#just trying to make as much of it as possible without erasing anything

[biceratops7]

hold- wait a fucking minute...

Beelzebub is acting really freaking weird in this scene.

Ok so I encourage you to rewatch it cause I can't really properly illustrate it in gifs, but they don't sound irritated, or even particularly intimidating. We know Beezlebub to be a very dry person, even in moments they want something and need to manipulate/ convince someone for it. So this abnormally animated and even somewhat friendly demeanor doesn't strike me as part of buttering Crowley up to get him to help them.

This is a weird line. We know Beelzebub isn't like Shax, they've been around a bit more and have a better grasp on things like tone and figurative language. There's almost no way they're unaware that saying this would immediately clue Crowley in to the fact that Heaven and Hell do in fact have communication, so they must want him to know. For whatever reason, it's important to them that Crowley knows they're a reputable source.

And then I remembered where I've heard that tone before.

It's nearly the exact same one Crowley uses to tell Aziraphale that he needs to protect them. It's the kind of tone you use when you need someone to read between the lines and understand more than you can safely tell them. Beelzebub is fully ready to believe Shax when they say Gabriel's in the bookshop, and acknowledge later that Aziraphale was a very fitting and likely candidate to harbor him. They know full well Crowley doesn't want jack shit to do with Hell, and would probably be offended if anything by anyone referring to his "nasty little heart". That is merely a performance to mask what they're really trying to tell him, which is that Aziraphale is in danger.

Without this detail Crowley very well could've turned Gabriel in to Heaven instead of Hell, he certainly doesn't see much difference between the two. Beelzebub is the reason he decisively doesn't, and races home in a panic.

And I think it's genuinely so sweet, this moment of understanding and comradery between them that goes unnoticed, even to Crowley. They drop the shtick and make sure that he knows the book of life is a real threat, and you only need to be merely involved in hiding him to be erased from it. Because to them, there's also the very real possibility that Crowley knows about Gabriel while Aziraphale doesn't, so they're double checking Crowley will not to tell him and instead go straight to them. There’s just something so protective in it.

#idk how to end this post #blah blah blah the queer experience of finding small ways to protect eachother #especially when there seems to be so precious few of you against everything #‘’I know what it’s like’’ #’’please look out for mine; and I’ll look out for yours.’’ #good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable bureaucracy #Crowley #aziraphale #Gabriel #beezlebub #aziracrow #meta #analysis #biceratops

[endlessthxxghts]

Animals

DBF!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈2.5k

Summary: Joel randomly calls you and tells you to meet him outside. Your parents are home though, and you can't necessarily tell them that Joel, your father's best friend, is asking you to go with him somewhere. Do you give a little white lie and leave, or do you wait until it's safer?

Warnings: Age gap (unspecified, but legal). Reader still lives with parents but she is an adult. Nosy and controlling ass parents to their child who's a grown ass adult. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Inappropriate car activities while driving. Handjob. Blowjob. Pulling into a parking lot in broad daylight to do some stuff... P in V unprotected. ✨Save a horse, ride a cowboy (in a parking lot)✨ Reader has bit of a size kink. Cum swallowing... Is there a term for kissing with semen in both y'all's mouths??? (Don't look at me...). Possessive kink. Spanking (just once though). Getting caught... Exhibitionism...😵‍💫 I think that’s as much as I can say without spoiling anything, so! After you read it, let me know if there’s anything that I should put in here that I missed out on!

A/N: One of my all-time favorite songs is Animals by Nickelback. As of lately, though, with all my Joel brain rot, I can't NOT think DBF!Joel every time I play it... so... here we are... I recommend listening before or when you read, just to really add to the experience hehehe.😈 @javierpena-inatacvest I hope you’re hungry!😋 Enjoy, y’all!!!

MASTERLIST

You’re beside me on the seat,

Got your hand between my knees,

And you control how fast we go by just how hard you wanna squeeze.

“Two minutes, get your ass outside.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. You blindly brought your phone up to your ear with your parents in the room with you, not taking the time to check the caller ID. 

“I-” you start as you head to the bathroom, not wanting your parents to overhear anything. “I can’t just leave right now, and especially not with you.” He scoffs over the phone. “I was at the dining table with my parents, jackass.” 

“But you’re not anymore, right?” 

“No.”

“And they didn’t question you?”

“Didn’t give them the chance to.”

“Just get out here. I’ll drive off quick, no one will see,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Joel,” you say, your tone betraying your logical responses.

“Now,” he says before ending the call. 

Your heart racing, you peer at yourself in the mirror, making sure you look semi-presentable even though you know Joel’s intentions are going to ruin your appearance anyway. You leave the bathroom, heading for the front door as fast as possible. 

“Who called ya?” your dad asked. 

“Going somewhere?” your mother followed.

“Just a friend. And I’m gonna step out real quick, I’ll be back in a bit,” you say nonchalantly, not trying to raise any suspicion. Your mother raises her brow at you. 

“I really hope you both find the value in respecting people’s privacy,” you say, stepping out the front door as you speak, erasing the chances of any further commentary. That may have come across more harsh than you would have liked, but even into adulthood, the three of you have gotten into huge fights for your whereabouts. It’s not like you left them in the dark all the time or kept them up late waiting for you to get home. You were living under their roof, so you still respected their time. Yet, it was never enough. And you were too wound up thinking about Joel to bite your tongue.

He parked a house away, and you’re practically running at the speed of light to get into the passenger side so he can pull away before your parents decide to make it to the window to gain any more information they can. 

As soon as you get into the passenger seat, though, Joel has different plans as he immediately puts one hand around your waist and the other on the thigh closest to him. You’re barely able to shut the door before he pulls you into the middle of the bench seat of his truck, your body flushed against his. You squeak out at his quickness, his strength. He smirks at it. 

He lets his hand on your thigh drag up your body and situate itself on your jaw, turning your face to his and kissing you deeply, all tongue and teeth and thickened spit due to how fucking turned on both of you are. 

You pull away, breathless, “Baby, you need to drive off, now.”

“Shit, sorry,” he says, releasing his hold on you. “Stop distractin’ me,” he playfully scolds, a smile full of trouble across his face as he pulls out of the neighborhood. 

You scoff at him now, perplexed at his audacity to tell you that you’re distracting him. It makes an idea pop in your head. You’ll show him a distraction. 

You shift your body to face him. Your hand lands on his thigh, running up and down lightly, getting closer to his hardened bulge that’s been begging for your attention since he dialed your number. 

His grip on the wheel tightens, his jaw twitching, “Darlin’,” he grits. “What are you doin’?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say as you lean in closer, licking a stripe up his neck, your mouth at his ear. “Just,” you cup his erection, “being a distraction.”

His hips push up into your hand. He is painfully hard right now, his entire neck and face a bright red from your ministrations. You unzip his jeans, pulling it and his underwear down to let his cock free. You moan at the sight.

“I’m warnin’ you, girl.”

“Want me to stop?” 

Silence. 

He moves his arm closest to you to sprawl along the back of the bench seat, giving you complete access to him as he attempts to drive you two to God knows where. 

You scoot closer in, and let out a content giggle. You place a wet kiss at his pulse point, whispering in his ear, “Thought so, baby.”

You bring your hand up to your mouth and let your spit pool in your hand, bringing it back down to his length, spreading it all over before you wrap your fingers around him.

“Joel, baby, fuck-” you moan in his ear as you slowly begin pumping him, “look how fucking big you are in my hands,” you whine. “Can barely wrap my hand around you,” you say as you nip at his neck again. 

Joel begs his eyes to stay on the road, knowing that if he were to look down right now, he’d lose every ounce of his control — on both his self restraint and his damn truck. But, God damn, the slapping sound of your hand on his spit-soaked cock as you whine and writhe at his side has him desperate. He glances down for barely a millisecond, and he can’t help the groan that leaves his throat, his head threatening to throw itself back in utter pleasure. 

“Am I doing good, baby?” You ask him. “A good distraction?” You add, your lips ghosting his jaw with each syllable. 

“F-fuckin H-hell, baby,” he stutters, hips softly meeting every push and pull of your hand. “G-gonna make me c-crash this f-fuckin’ car.” 

With his admission, your grip gets a little tighter, pumps get a little faster, and you're giving extra attention to the head of his cock. He’s pulsing beneath you, breathing erratic, and you can’t stop the urge to lean down and take him into your mouth. 

On instinct, Joel’s foot falls a little heavier on the gas, causing him to drive a little roughly over a bump on the road. His dick pushes deeper into your mouth, causing the tip to hit at the back of your throat. 

The spit that forms from your gag reflex gives you an easier ability to devour him just as he likes—warm, wet, and sloppy. Your head begins to bob faster, your hand still supporting the base of him as you periodically cup him below, and he’s an absolute mess. 

You pull away for one moment in a choked breath, your hand now jacking him off, and you look up at him through your eyelashes. 

“I know you’re close, baby, I feel it,” you gasp out as your hand squeezes a little more, at the pressure you know makes him break. “Need you to cum, baby, need you to fill my fucking throat,” and with that, your mouth is back on him. 

“Oh, f-fu-…” Joel nearly growls out, immediately pulling into some random parking lot, thankful the nearest slot was empty. The second the car is in park, he’s shooting his load down your throat, his hand flying to the back of your head to keep you stuffed full of him. 

The way that you’re so turned on right now just by giving him the sloppiest head he has ever experienced has you absolutely dripping—an absolute moaning mess, vibrating him into overstimulation. He pulls you off, and you can’t help the blissed out smirk that forms on your face as you swallow almost everything he gave you, residue dripping down your chin. 

He brings your face to his, and his tongue collects up his own spend, feeding it back to you in a desperate, sloppy kiss—if you can even call it that. 

As your lips tangle in a nasty embrace, he’s quick to rip your bottoms off as he settles you on his lap. The feel on your pussy of his spent cock slowly getting erect again has you moaning into his mouth, your hips grinding down onto him, arousal coating him, urging him back to his full, hard length. 

“Sh-shit,” falls from your mouth as his trails further down, leaving kisses down your throat. Joel brings his hand down to pump himself a few more times, ensuring he’s at full attention. Your hips lift up on instinct, Joel notching his tip at your soaking entrance. 

You lower yourself onto him, going in with ease with how wet both you and him are, the stretch of him still providing that delicious burn. No matter how prepared or lubed up either of you are, that burn will never go away. You never want it to. It flips a certain switch of lust within you—an animalistic need—knowing just how fucking big he is, knowing that it’s all for you. 

Usually when you’re on top, he’s extra sensitive, and you wait for him to give the signal for you to move. That need is there, though, and you can’t wait. As soon as your hips are flushed with his, you’re immediately lifting back up and dropping down on him again, maintaining a brutal pace that has you both uttering incoherent filth. 

You place your hands on either side of his head, gripping the back of his seat to give you better momentum as you bounce on him. His hands are gripping at the globes of your ass, guiding your movements, fingertip-shaped bruises threatening to form. “Fuck, sweet girl,” he lets out, “just like that, baby.” His face is nuzzled in between your breasts, nipping and licking at them with every bounce of your thrusts. 

His words cause your pussy to flutter, a possessive feeling gliding down your spine. Your one hand releases the chair and grasps at the curls on the base of his neck. “T-tell me,” you stutter, “t-tell me who my p-pussy belongs to,” you get out, licking into his mouth before you let him answer. 

His hips begin to meet your movements, his pubic bone providing the cherry on top to unravel you. His lips are against yours, breaths intertwining into the thick air, windows beginning to fog. “Mine,” Joel growls. Your hips speed up, the truck shaking and squeaking with every movement. “This pussy is mine. You,” he breathes, “are fuckin’ mine,” a stinging pain fills your senses before your brain registers the slap to your ass. 

Your thighs begin to shake and your body goes rigid, your climax teetering against the edge. 

“Joel,” you cry out. 

“I’ve got you, pretty girl, let go for me,” he coos. And just as he’s about to hold you down to fuck up into you, a car parks right next to you, door immediately slamming as the person gets out and urgently peers into the driver’s side window. 

Both of you are too close to stop your movements, the person’s face outside the car falling into pure horror and shock at what’s going on inside. 

“Oh!” you scream out, both of you using all your strength to stop but unable to.

“That’s my dad outside the car!”

Oh please, the keys, they’re not in the ignition,

Must have wound up on the floor while we were switching our positions. 

Before you know it, you’re pulsing around his cock as he fills up another one of your holes with thick, hot ropes of his cum. 

Neither of you realize just when your father scrambled back into his car and drove away, but the idea of getting caught turned both of you on more than you’d ever admit. 

You don’t get off of him just yet, both of you sitting in each other’s sweaty embrace as you let your breathing and heart rates return to normal. 

“So…” he says, rubbing circles on the small of your back. 

You look up at him, chin perched on his chest. “So,” you giggle. 

“What the fuck do we do?” he asks, wordlessly referring to the mishap with your father.

Not as worried, you mess with him before giving a serious answer. “Mmm,” you say as you place a light kiss to his chest, “I was thinking you give me your boxers since you ripped the only bottoms I have on me, and you deal with the jeans chafing your balls until you get back home.”

His eyes go wide, completely forgetting that he did that, and silently cursing himself for doing something so stupid. Luckily he decided to actually wear underwear today.

“Oh, fuck, baby, I’m so sorry, I just-” he pauses for a moment. “You fuckin’ distracted me!” he says before he completely busts out in laughter, a deep howl filling the car. You smack his chest, your laughter following suit. 

“You motherfucker,” you say, sitting up a little straighter, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. 

He smiles at you, pure warmth and adoration in his eyes. He clears his throat, his face a little more serious. “I, uh, I was actually talkin’ about your old man, though.”

“I know,” you say, completely unbothered.

“Are you not worried?”

You shrug your shoulders. “No.”

“You don’t think he’s gonna try and wring my neck out?”

“Baby,” you laugh, “no, he’s not gonna wring your neck out. I wouldn’t let him, anyway.”

“Oh, gee. Thanks,” he deadpans.

“I promise you, I’ve got it taken care of.”

His fingers grasp your chin, pulling you in for another kiss, a little longer than the last. “I trust you.”

As soon as you enter the front door, you see both your parents at the dining table again. Though, this time around, instead of controlling and angry, they look pale and embarrassed. 

You stroll to the dining table, not caring to sit down, and you get straight to the point. They can’t even look you in the eye. 

“So? Did we learn our lesson about-”

“Yes,” your parents say in unison, “please just,” your mother continues as your dad starts to retreat anywhere else but here. “Let’s not talk about it.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles in your chest. 

“You’re a grown woman,” your mother says, rigidly. “It’s really not our business what you do anymore.” You peer at your father. He throws a thumbs up at your mother’s words, eyes still trained on everything else but you. 

“Glad ya guys came to your senses,” you say, offering a smug smile. You can’t help it. If catching you having the steamiest sex in an older man’s car is what causes them to stop breathing down your neck, then so be it. You’d have intentionally done something like this ages ago if that’s what it took. 

You start heading to your room when your dad finally speaks. Still unable to look you in the eyes. “Tell Joel I don’t give a fuck what he does—what y’all do—just,” he pauses to take a breath. “Tell him not to address any of this with me. Ever.”

“Deal.”

No, no matter where we go,

‘Cause everybody knows,

We’re just a couple animals. 

End Note: Well. That killed me. The amount of laps I took writing this...🥴 Thank you all so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, etc, — all your support means the absolute world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without all of you. Thank you so so so much. There are genuinely not enough words to express my gratitude. As always feedback for my stories (at a technical sense) is also super super helpful whether it is constructive or positive! Anything helps me to be the best writer that I can be. All my love! Xo

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @akah565 @pedrostories

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

#smut #one shot #endless thoughts fics #pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedrostories #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou smut #joel miller one shot

[moonsaver]

Context before getting into the actual idea: I recently saw some fanart based on concept art for Dr Ratio where he has slightly longer, messier hair and the fanart interpreted this as him having a bit of a rebellious phase when he was younger.

So now I’m just thinking about Reader going to school with him when he was going through this phase. He had a bit of a crush on her but didn’t know how to express it so he just messed with her constantly.

And now they meet again when he’s changed and he hasn’t gotten over her she’s just getting massive amounts of whiplash from how wildly different he is. Could be yandere 👀

Anon. I am GRIPPINT YOU BY THE SHOULDERS. Listen. Unfortunately i doubt i did this justice but i tried my best PLEASE okay

A bit long, under the cut!

Its not exactly easy to imagine Dr. Ratio of all people being rebellious, but that just makes it even more possibly believeable in my opinion. I am deeply convinced he has had his crazy scientist, jerkward asshole phase at least once and was soo deeply embarassed the moment he left it.

But listen. His professors all probably HATED him because he would probably constantly correct them, be so disgustingly overeducated to the point they'd send him to the library or tell him to get lost just so he wouldn't disrupt class. He's the infamous asshole who sits wherever he wants, and hoardes an entire table to himself if he's at the library or at the cafeteria. Any student who needs a pen or eraser or a pencil knows he's NOT the one to ask, even if it was in the middle of an exam worth half their grade and he was the only person beside them. He does literally anything he wants and no one can stop him except probably by force, and if they do, something worse ends up happening to them instead.

Anyways, here comes in reader. Probably already knows his sour reputation. Regardless, maybe you're the poor soul who's his seatmate. If the crush is already established, he's constantly bothering you. Asking for stationaries like the entirety of his desk isn't covered by it already (he likes the miniscule interaction), taking your notebooks without your knowledge and sometimes even scribbling inside of them (its his horrid handwriting, he's just trying to help you with detailed notes), he comments on how "lame" your outfit is, asking about your social life, rolling his eyes when your response isn't exactly.. pleasing (he's actually a bit content with it. Perhaps you'll hang out with him more, instead?). You note the smell of alcohol trailing him a bit everytime you interact with him.

It's not easy for him, especially when you can't seem to keep up and look so queasy around him. Aeons, his heart is so twisted up and squeezed everytime he seems to be getting more distant from you, but he just has no idea how to convey his feelings. Not when he didn't even account for the fact he'll have a crush on anyone in the first place.

Anyways, timeskip!

You're probably a researcher of some sort, maybe not so well known. Let's just say for the sake of simplicity you're a researcher on Herta's space station. It's not too soon before he runs into you, probably after the whole mess at the station's been "cleaned up" regarding the curio and whatever. Maybe he doesn't leave right after that interaction with Screwellum, and he decides to, by his curiosity, take a look around once again before he leaves (certainly not because he's heard a familiar name thrown around a few times).

And there you are. In your little research-getup, professional vernacular, hair all neat. He's probably right behind you in an instant, and you turn around to look as the colleague you were talking to suddenly starts stuttering and becoming squeamish while looking behind you. There he is, in all his (cruel?) Glory. The infamous asshole who was your classmate.

But.. it's surprising how much more mellow he's become (at least towards you?). His hair are neatly tamed, his build is taller and more muscular than it was back then, but his attire is also quite tame (if not a little.. fancy?), compared to his brash taste back then. His eyes still seem to hold contempt, but more distantly so.

Veritas figures your mouth is agape and you're speechless considering the change in his countenance as of recent. He's also not yet come to terms with the fact that his heart still twists and squeezes whenever he sees that unsure look on your face. If you were made of clay, and if he could, he'd meld the most beautiful smile on your face with his craftful fingers. Alas, he resorts to tamer methods. At least he supposes he's a wiser man, now. He's more aware of different courting methods.

He asks about your station, your current life, family, friends, etc .. in a seemingly disinterested tone. There's a bit of resignation but hidden constrain in his voice, everytime you mention a "close friend" of yours or a colleague you worked with "closely". But he hasn't been berating you the way he would have back then. His fingers slightly constantly strain, folded behind his back, trying desperately not to taper towards you – there's stray strands of hair on your face. Your headpiece is off centre. Your pen is slanting in your pocket. Your shoulders are too tense. Your eyebrows are furrowed. your eyes look tired. Have your lips always been chapped? They were fine back then.. hold on.

While you stutter out useless formalities and pleasantries, Veritas' eyes scan you over. Time has weathered you well, in his opinion. The thin line of his pressed lips dont quite indicate that. He sighs almost grimly, shutting you up in an instant. He offers you to accompany him and possibly consider joining the Intelligentsia Guild (is it not worth a shot trying? It may be foolish, but he's a tad too desperate when it comes to you). You timidly mumble out a refusal, the words barely leaving your mouth. He nods.

Catching up makes his heart squeeze and rush all over the place. Topics he once tried to teach you back then (by.. VERY unsuccessful methods,) seem to be elementary knowledge to you now. You work more efficiently, hold yourself in a better, more confident way, and you seem to be smoothsailing in your life. Granted, it's technically the bare minimum, but its been so long since he talked to you. The chirp in your voice, the chuckle you let out every now and then despite your nervousness around him, has his heart in his throat. He can't bring himself to try and even "set you straight" by giving you (unwarranted) advice or piddling your achievements, there's a soft smile he's duly hiding behind his scorning face.

He offers you again, if you are unsure about joining the Guild, and discreetly mentions it being filled with imbeciles regardless when you deny again, pulling another string of laughter out of you. Hmph, you weren't so joyful when he made those statements back in high school.

Granted,you're obviously still not quite sure about Veritas' new look. He's still got his infamous reputation as an extremely strict teacher, the oddball with an alabastor head and having worked with the IPC, it's not a pleasant image per se, but it's heaps better than his reputation back at school. You politely make a joke about it, and he groans, earning another cautious, light chuckle from you. He has become different. You prattle on about the length of his hair, his refinement of speech, the difference in how he holds himself now.. it does leave him melting a tad bit inside. You noticed it? Hm. Clever little thing.

Of course, goodbyes are seldom sweet. He does manage to pry out your contact information once again, before. If you don't budge,he finds another way regardless. Your network of colleagues aren't exactly as strong as you might have thought. He remembers this information carefully.

Like the old days, maybe he'll manage to keep slipping notes into your reports and files. Perhaps pull a few strings back in the old days to keep you in his class, he'll slowly knot and twist a few strings to bring and budge you over to his little workplace. Sooner or later, you'll end up in his home. He's sure of it.

And just like the old days, his little seatmate is by his side once again. Care to put up with him for a bit longer? Probably forever, in this case.

#moonink #hsr #honkai star rail #yandere hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #yandere honkai star rail #hsr veritas ratio #hsr veritas #hsr dr ratio #hsr yandere #dr ratio x gender neutral reader #dr ratio x y/n #dr ratio x you #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio hsr #yandere dr ratio #dr ratio #veritas ratio hsr #veritas ratio x reader #honkai star rail dr ratio #honkai star rail veritas ratio

[penny00dreadful]

And They Were Roommates! - Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 AO3

When Steve arrived back home that evening, he was a little surprised to find it mostly empty. There was no sign of Chrissy or Eddie’s Corroded Coffin boys apart from the empty containers of ice-cream and candy, along with an empty bottle and a half of wine. 

Eddie himself was sitting curled up on the couch watching the TV with wide unseeing eyes, chewing through his fingers.

His gaze snapped over to the door but as soon as he caught sight of Steve, his shoulders loosened and his thumb was released from his teeth. 

He looked relieved and Steve could not fathom what could possibly have Eddie feeling relieved to see him. 

Eddie seemed to think the same thing because the next second the scowl was back on his face.

“Where is everyone?” He asked, stepping forward and starting to pick up the stray wrappers and empty containers while Eddie watched him like a hawk, his shoulders tense again, frowning.

“Told them to go. Said I was fine here by myself.” He mumbled.

Steve dropped the trash in the bin and turned to him, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Are you?”

Eddie bristled, puffing himself out, gearing up for a fight while Steve stared him down. But then he watched in real time as Eddie was only able to hold it for a few seconds before deflating, slumping back down into the cushions.

“I’m fine.”

Steve pursed his lips. 

After talking with Robin, he had to admit to himself that maybe he did want to look out for Eddie, a little. Because Eddie was scared. He was nervous and jumpy and clearly did not like being home alone.

“Are you worried he’s gonna come back?” 

If Rick did come back, he didn’t think Eddie would allow himself to be pushed around but it would fuck him up mentally even more than he already was. 

And Steve couldn’t have that.

Eddie stood, brushing crumbs from the front of his shirt and glaring in Steve’s direction without meeting his eyes. 

“I’m fine.” He insisted, turning on his heel and storming back into his room.

Steve sighed to himself after the door was slammed closed.

Well that went great.

“Shit.”

Steve wasn’t sure whether it was better to keep dancing around Eddie, being as gentle with him as he could stomach without making it obvious, or if he should go back to the way they used to be. Because if he knew anything about Eddie, it was that he couldn’t stand the idea of being handled like he was delicate even though he was clearly affected by what had happened to him.

Eventually he settled on a mix of the two.

But still, Steve was struggling to find a balance between sniping and bitching at each other regardless of what kind of wounds might be there and trying to not pour salt all over it.

He and Eddie still snapped at each other but Steve kept any arguments on his side away from anything Rick or Rick adjacent, and as the weeks went on he took note of what would have Eddie flinching or recoiling. 

He erased those triggers from his snappy comebacks.

One of the things that was completely off limits was anything to do with sex. 

After that first night when Eddie came home bloody and bruised because his ex fucking attacked him, Steve had to remind himself, they traded barbs about topping and bottoming and power dynamics in the bedroom all the time before, but now?

Eddie really, really didn’t like those things being thrown around.

He never said so much to Steve outright, almost like he expected Steve to pounce on it, which made a new flame of anger burn up in his stomach thinking about why Eddie would think he’d even do that, because it had to come from somewhere, right? Eddie had to have been treated like that in the past to make him think that Steve would do the same.

But he didn’t, he wouldn’t. He’d never.

And as time passed he got the impression that Eddie was starting to see that.

He just hoped he could make it obvious that he just wanted… what did he want?

He wanted what was best for Eddie, but why did he fucking care?

He didn’t care, that was the thing. 

He didn’t fucking care.

He kept telling himself that.

He was just being a decent human.

He didn’t care, he just wasn’t trying to kick a guy while he was down.

It had been a couple of months since the whole Rick thing had happened and Eddie had stayed at home for most of it, only leaving to go to work or to pick up groceries.

He didn’t go out anymore.

He didn’t hang out in bars or clubs or enter gigs with his band.

Chrissy called over often and the Corroded Coffin boys even more so.

But it was after one visit from Chrissy that things seemed to have changed. 

Steve had heard them talking. She was trying to encourage him. He wanted to go back out, it seemed. He missed it. But he was nervous. And she wanted to help him. 

He heard his own name being mentioned once or twice but aside from that he couldn’t make much of it out. 

Not that he cared to. It was none of his business and he wasn’t going to stick his nose in where it didn’t belong.

No matter how much he wanted to.

But apparently it was going to be done anyway, because one evening, as Steve sat over a bowl of soup, he became aware of Eddie hovering behind him.

He didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t even look up from the TV where he was eating on the sofa, always enjoying the feeling of rebellion in the small act.

His mother would have had a fit if she’d seen him but she wasn’t going to see him. Was never going to see him again after the things she’d said, and good riddance to her.

So Eddie hovered and Steve ignored.

Until,

“You're a reformed slut, right?”

Steve stopped his spoon half way to his mouth, just sitting there frozen for a moment before he slowly put the spoon back into the bowl.

With a glance up he could see that Eddie was red faced, twisting his rings around his fingers and looking up to the ceiling like the mysterious brown stain was suddenly very interesting.

Steve took a deep, soothing breath in. 

“Calling me ‘reformed’ makes me sound like it's something I should be ashamed of. Like it was wrong.”

Eddie finally brought his eyes down to him with a raised eyebrow. “Where's the fun if it's not a little wrong?”

“Whatever.” He replied with an eye roll. “Yes, I'm a reformed slut. What's your question?”

“How…” Eddie crossed his arms and turned to the side, looking away from him again, as if it would make this conversation go easier. “How do I… do… that?”

Steve blinked at him. “Be a slut?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you go out there and be a slut.” He shrugged. “It's not that hard.”

Eddie scoffed then muttered, “For you, maybe.”

Steve sighed, putting his bowl down on the coffee table. “Well, what are you looking to get out of it? Orgasms?”

Eddie wouldn’t have any trouble picking up people, never has had any trouble picking up people in the past, even when he clearly wasn’t single, people still wanted to try their luck. Steve had seen it with his own eyes and he couldn’t blame them. 

Eddie was gorgeous, all dark hair, dark eyes, dark tattoos and pale skin, lanky limbs and wiry muscles. And he used to be all confidence and devil may care attitude that drew people in.

Though that seemed to have fled him after Rick.

But casual sex with strangers had never really been something Eddie seemed interested in so Steve was a little confused about the line of questioning.

Eddie always seemed like a ‘connection’ type of guy. 

Eddie's ears went pink. “No. I can do that on my own, thanks.”

“Yeah, I thought so. So what are you looking to get out of it?”

He shrugged. “I dunno… like… I haven't- not since Rick. And I want to feel…” He shrugged again, turning in an aimless circle. “I dunno.”

“You wanna feel… desirable?” Steve hedged.

“I guess.”

“And you don't wanna get orgasms out of that?” He asked again, just to be sure. 

“Is that allowed?” Eddie snapped.

“Of course it's allowed, Mary. Don't go out there and start having sex if you don't want to be having sex.”

“I won't. I wouldn't. I'm not… I don't think I'm ready.”

“Okay, that's okay. And it’s okay if you never are. You don’t have to be going out and having casual sex at all.”

Eddie hummed then kicked the base of the sofa, frustrated, hands stuffed in his pockets. “But how do I go and slut it up if I'm not having sex?”

“You don't have to have sex to be a slut.” Steve spread his hands out. “It's a vibe.”

“A vibe.” Eddie mocked.

“Yeah, honey. A vibe. You can go out and just get kisses if that's all you want.”

Eddie actually fell silent at that, thinking.

“Just kisses?”

“Yeah. Just kisses. With tongue, without tongue, with hands, without hands. Y’know, whatever.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay. Okay. I can do just kisses. Okay.” 

He paused, like he was going to actually thank Steve which would be fucking wild but the second Eddie turned to look at him, it was like he'd just remembered who he was talking to and his entire face flamed before he turned on his heel and stomped out of the room.

Steve just rolled his eyes, returning to his soup.

Despite that little conversation, Eddie didn’t go out for another two weeks. 

Or at least Steve didn’t see him go out.

Not that he was watching.

It was like Eddie was trying to build himself up to it and more than once Steve had wanted to remind him that he really didn’t have to do it if he didn’t want to.

But it seemed Eddie was determined to get back on the horse.

It was one Friday evening when Eddie came out of his room and hovered again, just standing in the apartment, putting himself within Steve’s line of vision.

“Can I help you?” Steve asked, not bothering to look up from his newspaper, slowly lifting it a little higher to cover his eyeline as he sat on the couch.

Eddie didn’t answer and didn’t move until with a roll of his eyes, Steve tipped down a corner of the paper.

Eddie raised his eyebrows at him, though he seemed reluctant to do it, almost as if saying ‘Well? How do I look?’

Steve pushed his glasses further up his nose, scraping his eyes up and down Eddie’s body.

He looked good.

Really good.

His long legs were wrapped up in a pair of tight ripped jeans, he had his usual chains at his hips, perfect for pulling. There was a large belt buckle settled across his hips, drawing the eye down to the hem of his black crop top, a dark trail of hair just visible underneath along with the lithe muscles of his stomach, and sides. The ripped out sleeves of the top left an excessive amount of skin and tattoos on display and his face was slowly getting redder and redder the longer Steve looked.

He looked fucking delicious.

Except for-

“Fix your hair and you’re good.”

Steve flipped his newspaper back up and decided he wasn’t going to think about it anymore. 

Nope, no way.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Eddie asked. “Chrissy said it looks good up.”

Which wasn’t a lie. Eddie did look unfairly good with his hair up, but not like that.

Scraped back to within an inch of its life, practically pulling his skin taut and leaving his bangs looking especially thin. 

It wasn’t a cute look.

“It does.” Steve said, letting it slip out without his permission. He barreled forward, trying not to draw attention to it. “But not like that. That’s not what she meant.”

“Well, what the hell did she mean then?”

Steve flipped his newspaper down again. Eddie was glaring at him with his hands on his hips, like this was all Steve’s fault. 

“She meant when it’s, like, messy. Looser.”

Eddie just looked at him bewildered as Steve huffed and closed his newspaper, folding it haphazardly and throwing it down onto the couch next to him before standing and grabbing him by the wrist.

“Come on. I’m not letting you leave the house with hair like that.” He said, dragging him into their shared bathroom. “If it gets linked back to me my reputation would be ruined.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a stereotype.”

Steve shoved him further into the room with a scowl. “A stereotype who’s about to help you get some kisses, so shut up and say thank you.”

Eddie snorted. “Keep dreaming, sweetheart.”

Steve was maybe a little less gentle than he should have been, standing behind him, taking Eddie’s hair out of the ponytail he had it in, tugging on the strands and leaving Eddie grimacing with a scowl on his face as he glared at Steve through the mirror.

Once he had it all untangled, Steve ran his hands through, close to the scalp, trying to get the strands to relax a little more from where they’d been tied up so tight and Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed.

Right. He should probably be a little gentler but he was surprised to find that Eddie’s hair was actually quite soft and the curls wanted to clump together in the way that curls did.

So he was forced to come to the conclusion that Eddie had just been dragging a brush through his perfectly healthy hair and fucking up his curls at every opportunity and Steve had to stop himself from sitting Eddie down right at that moment and giving him a lecture on proper curl maintenance. 

Except no, because that wasn’t what he was doing right now, he was trying to keep his good hair reputation intact for tonight.

That was all.

With gentle fingers he coaxed Eddie’s hair back up onto his head, trying it off with the same hairband and lightly tugging to give it a bit more volume. 

He was in the zone now, the hair zone.

He turned Eddie to face him with a hand at his shoulder.

He was a little surprised at how easily Eddie went and it was only when he was hovering so close to his face, hands in his hair, tugging a few whips free and tucking a few more behind his ear, he noticed how quiet Eddie was.

Moving his gaze down from Eddie’s hairline, he felt like he’d had the air punched from his lungs as he met Eddie’s eyes.

How had he never noticed them before?

Deep and brown, almost black from a distance but with different shades up close, copper and caramel and chocolate and something deeper, almost like burnt wood, staring at him with such intensity he could feel it all the way in the back of his brain.

Steve took a step back.

This was not happening. 

This was not happening.

Eddie tracked every one of his micro movements with those eyes, watching him closely like he was a squirming insect. 

It made his skin itch.

“It’ll do.” Steve said into the thick silence around them, distracting himself by reaching into his cupboard for the hairspray.

“Hold your breath.”

He barely gave Eddie a moment to respond, his mouth hanging open in a question and his eyes a little wider than they had been before he sprayed, coating Eddie’s hair with a light spritz while Eddie scrunched his eyes and mouth closed, devolving into coughs once Steve had stopped assaulting him.

“Jesus.” He hacked out, a hand to his chest and a glare sent in Steve’s direction. “Are you ever not a bitch?”

Steve just gave him a peppy grin. “No.”

Then, against his better judgement, he opened his mouth again.

“You look gorgeous, darling.” He said, managing to put a slightly condescending tone into it because that was not the kind of fucking game he was playing here. He was not… feeling things about his dickhead roommate. 

He barely caught Eddie’s eye roll before he turned on his heel and booked it out of their tiny shared bathroom, not wanting to be trapped in there with him any longer.

Eddie cursed after him as he left and Steve was content to hide away beneath his newspaper again, keeping it firmly in front of his face as Eddie finished up whatever primping he was doing in the bathroom and left the apartment without another word shared between them.

He wasn’t awake when Eddie stumbled in home that night, or the weekend after that, though he was quietly delighted to see that Eddie had taken his advice to heart and followed the steps to keeping his hair looking good when he had it up, though he didn’t wear it up all the time. 

Steve was also left very confused for a while after Eddie left to go out on the third weekend when he walked into their bathroom and was met with the smell of his own cologne still lingering in the air.

It took a few minutes of him scouring his own memories, trying to think if he had sprayed it and not remembered, before he realised Eddie had probably stolen some, sprinkling it over his skin before he went out.

The thought made some deep desire lick through his veins. Eddie would be out kissing strangers, maybe more if he was feeling up to it, but he’d be out there with Steve’s smell on him. 

Like a claim of ownership.

He wasn’t sure he liked that it made him feel that way. 

Eddie didn’t know it made him feel that way.

But why had he done it? He had his own smell that he wore all the time, why switch it up now?

It confused the shit out of him. It made no sense. 

Adding onto the smell of hairspray that was also still lingering in the bathroom along with it, he’d smell exactly like Steve.

While out there, kissing strangers.

Steve would be on him like a brand.

He needed a cold shower. 

This time around, Steve was still awake when Eddie stumbled in through the door, his gangly limbs seemingly unable to keep him moving in a straight line as he hung off the wall to swing around into the kitchen, nearly sending himself flying into the kitchen counter.

His face broke out into a wide smile when he caught sight of Steve, his eyelids heavy with that drunken relaxation and his movements clumsy but cute.

“Stevie.” Eddie was leaning most of his weight up against the counter next to him. 

Steve just raised his eyebrows at him, continuing to stir his tea, swamped in his throw. Eddie never usually called him that unless he was teasing. 

But there was no teasing in his tone now, just… affection?

Weird.

Eddie looked like he had had a good night. He had smudged red lipstick across the corner of his mouth and down his neck, and what looked like black glittery lipstick around his collar. That was gonna be hell to get out of his white Metallica tour shirt.

“Good night?”

“Mmm.” Eddie hummed, still smiling up at him from his slumped position. 

Steve flicked his eyes over Eddie’s face again, feeling something inexplicably warm settle over him at the sight of his easy happiness. 

Rick was slowly fading further and further into the past, and thank god for that. 

“Want me to make you your tea?”

Eddie sighed, heavy and dreamy, like Steve had just offered him the world. “Oh my god, that would be amazing.”

Steve couldn’t help but grin, pulling down Eddie’s favourite Garfield mug.

“Good night?”

Eddie nodded. “I kissed eight people.”

“Eight? Impressive number.”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s smile was blinding. “Three boys, a girl, two drag queens and two others who… I think they were enbies but I didn’t really stop to ask. They were good kissers anyway.”

Steve couldn’t stop smiling back at him.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

“I’m having the best time, sweetheart. It feels so good to be out on the town again. No longer sitting home and thinking of-” Eddie cut himself off with a slightly choked noise, snapping his eyes away from Steve. “-things.”

“Things?” Steve hedged, not wanting to bring back up anything bad. Especially not while Eddie was so vulnerable. He wanted to keep him happy.

Eddie just shrugged. 

“Haven’t felt so good about myself in a while. Rick was such an ass face.”

Steve nodded, stirring Eddie’s tea up. “He was. He was an assface.” He slid it across the counter, meeting Eddie’s eyes. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

Eddie hummed to himself again, looking down at his tea, his hands curled around the hot mug, a blush painted over his cheeks.

He bit down hard on his bottom lip, like he was physically trying to keep the words in, but it was futile because a second later he opened them to ask, “How come you stopped being a slut?”

Eddie’s face lit up red as soon as he said it and Steve was…

Steve actually felt a little delighted at the sight of it. Eddie was usually pretty good about keeping any embarrassment he felt firmly locked away whenever he was around Steve and he was borderline giddy to see Eddie so open with him, even if it was only because it was fuelled by alcohol. 

Steve decided to take pity on him, pulling his own mug up to his chest, cradling it in his hands and creating a barrier in between the two, giving Eddie a moment to breathe. 

“It wasn’t what I wanted anymore. Yeah, it can feel really good to go out and get some action without really trying but after years and years of doing just that…” He shrugged. “I dunno, it kinda just wore me down. I wanted more than that. I want a connection, I guess. I didn’t want meaningless sex anymore. I want a relationship.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “So why haven’t you started looking for one?”

Steve frowned. “I have. No one has really been right yet, you know?”

“Why not?”

Steve glanced over at him. 

Eddie still looked so confused.

He shrugged, a little bewildered. “I dunno? They just didn’t fit. They would be suspicious of my relationship with Robin, or-”

“Robin, the flaming lesbian?”

“Yeah, but apparently boys and girls just can’t be friends without something going on.” Steve rolled his eyes. “If they didn’t think Robin was only a pretend lesbian, then they’d think I was secretly in love with her.”

“I mean, you are in love with her, but like, platonically.”

“Yeah, but people don’t want to hear that, apparently.”

“Maybe you should stop dating the straights.”

“I haven’t just been dating the straights, honey.” Steve said with a little curl of his lip. “But if it’s not Robin, it’s something else. But it’s fine. It’s okay. I’m okay being single for a while. It’s helped me get to know myself.”

“But you would be open to a relationship if one came along?”

Steve glanced up at him again but Eddie wasn't looking at him. He was just staring into his tea like it was the most fascinating potion.

“Yeah. I would be.” Steve tilted his head, trying to figure out where this line of questioning was coming from. 

Eddie finally glanced back up, nodding.

“I think I would be too. But for now, kissing is good.”

Steve smiled. “Kissing is very good. I like kissing.”

“Me too.” Eddie grinned back at him and for a moment the two of them just stood there, smiling at one another through the steam of their tea, somehow, inexplicably closer than they had been. 

All at once, Steve realised who he was drifting towards. Eddie seemed to catch on at the same moment, and the two of them abruptly stepped back.

“I’m going to bed.” Eddie squeaked, turning on his heel and almost running back to his room.

Steve hid away in his own room only a second later. 

Robin just groaned to herself, pressing her fingers into her eyes. 

“If I told you a girl was acting like that with me, asking me all those questions, what would you tell me?”

“That she liked you.”

Robin looked up, her eyes weary from where she’d been pressing into them from frustration, staring at him hard.

It clicked.

“Oh.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 AO3

@augustjustice @geekymagicalpotato @wormdebut @eddielives1986 @releasethexbarakat @a-little-unsteddie @steddietogo @steddiehyperfixation @raisedbylibrarians @silver-snaffles @estrellami-1 @bookbinderbitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @marklee-blackmore

If I missed anyone for tagging please let me know! 🖤

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.

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#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #pennys anniversary event #robin buckley #enemies to lovers #roommates au #roommates

[thir10th]

I literally love the way you write emily! could you please do something like Morgan or anyone on the team points out how clingy you are around her so you get insecure, but Emily makes it better? thank you💕

hi anon 👋 ofc i can!! i love this concept ❤️

summary: Morgan says something that upsets you, thankfully Emily knows exactly what to do (basically the ask lol) tw: smut, shower sex, oral sex, idk i'm tired i think that's all a/n: i'm trying to do your requests, like you guys already know i can't promise i will make them all, but you're still very welcome to try! Like & reblog as always <3

You had spent a whole week on LA on this last case, more than 3 women had been murdered before you caught the unsub, which means you desperately needed a long night sleep, preferably wrapped in your girlfriend's arms.

You're sitting on the window seat, keeping the one next to it free for her, she smiles when her eyes meet yours, and sits next to you, you surround her with your arm, kissing her cheek, she moves to peck your lips as well

"hey baby" you whisper, your mouth close to hers

"hey" she answers with the sweetest voice, you can sense she also wants to get home as soon as possible.

Your other hand wraps around her leg, squeezing it

"I'm gonna go for a tea, ok? you want one?" she asks getting up, wrapping herself off of you "yeah that'd be nice" you answer, the silliest smile on your face.

"ugh, you two get a room" Morgan's voice makes you lift your head, the smile instantly erased form your face.

"What do you mean?" you ask, he has never pointed you two out before, so it surprises you

"c'mon, can't you spend 2 seconds without touching her? we were just at the airport and you were all over each other, i could not handle someone being so clingy" you're too baffled to say anything. Clingy? you had never thought about it, you loved your girlfriend so much it came natural to you hugging her and touching her, the possibility that she didn't like it had never crossed your mind.

Morgan couldn't be bothered about it, he put his headphones back on as soon as he dropped the unfriendly comment.

"there you go baby" Emily said, handing you your cup, you take it, a small smile to thank her, and you lay back to the window.

As much as you're trying you can't seem to get Morgan's comment out of your head, you never wanted to suffocate Emily, you just wanted her to feel loved, maybe she was just ashamed to tell you how uncomfortable it made her.

You sip your tea, looking out the window, "hey" Emily grabs your cup when you're finished and opens her arm offering you to lay on it

"I think I'm gonna try to sleep now, ok?" you tell her, and turn around to lay your head on the window.

You can tell se knows there's something going on, she frowns, you can feel her stare, but finally let's it go, and gets back to her book.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

When you finally get back to your apartment, Emily throws her bag away, and you do the same, moving to sit on the couch to take your shoes off more comfortably.

"Well, I desperately need a shower, you coming?" she asks as she takes her shirt off

"Yeah, you go" you don't even look at her to answer, trying to focus on untying your shoes, you keep your head down.

Emily stands on the middle of the hallway, she looks at you, raising an eyebrow, now she knows there's definitely something going on.

"You're not gonna shower, love?" she asks, a concerned tone on her voice "Yeah, sure, you can go first tho"

Your girlfriend was too stunned to speak. It wasn't like you to turn down the offer of showering together, you couldn't remember a time when you had said no to a shower with Emily, specially after a case.

She would always lather your back soothingly, you didn't even always have sex (although it was quite common), sometimes you would simply enjoy the warm water stream, you would take care of each other, wrap yourselves into a warm embrace that could last minutes, and she would always lend you her clothes afterwards, there was no other feeling better than going to sleep clean and fresh into your girlfriend's clothes, wrapped around each other. What do you mean you don't want to shower with her?

"So, you will wait for me to shower, and you will go after me? first on the plane, now this? Baby, is something wrong? Did i do something to upset you?" you lift your head to look at her after getting rid of your shoes, her big brown eyes reflect the worry on her voice, she looks to you carefully to see what is going on.

"no, it's nothing, i just... i just don't want to be too clingy, you know?" you finally reveal. Her mouth tenses up, and she bites her lip. You know your girlfriend way too well to know that's one of her classic faces, it's the one that says -ok now i see-. She walks up to you, sitting right next to you on the couch, places her hand on your thigh soothingly.

"Baby, who told you that?" you don't wanna say, you don't want her to get upset too, but the way she runs her palm over your leg to soothe your worries makes you want to tell her everything she asked for.

"Well, Morgan, he suggested i could be suffocating you" when you say it aloud it sounds ridiculous, since when do you care about what Morgan says? About what any man has to say about your relationship? His words had just sunk into you way more than you could've expected.

"what did he say?" she licks her lips out of impotence "Because after a whole career on the fbi i'm considering murder just now" you laugh it off, blinking to avert the tears pickering your eyes.

"he said if i was his girlfriend, he would feel suffocated by how clingy i am, and how i can't keep my hands off of you" her eyes scan your face, runs her hand up and down your thigh "ok, i'm sure gonna kill Morgan tomorrow" you both chuckle "well he is kind of right, i mean we can barely spend an hour off of each other" you say trying to make sense out of the situation

"ok, so you are clingy, so what?" her voice raises a bit towards the end, a couple of notes higher, you can't help but to smile, you think it's too cute.

"I love touching you" the hand that was resting on your thigh now gets higher to rest on your waist, her other hands moves up to your neck, her thumb caressing your face "I love it when you touch me" her face gets closer, the tip of her nose brushing against your cheek, you close your eyes relaying on the touch

"I love feeling you close" she moves to sit closer to you on the couch (if that is even possible at this point) her hand keeps moving up and down your back, she kisses your cheek, "and i don't care about what anyone has to say about that, i don't want you to care about it ether" her words sink into you, everything is basically forgotten.

"I want you to touch me, to feel me" she moves your hand, previously resting on your side, she places it on her waist, and you take it upon yourself to grab her face with your other hand.

Closing the small space between you, your lips collapse in a deep kiss, Emily holds you. The kiss is quite sensual. Emily takes her time and eases your mouth open, slowly pushing in her skilled tongue into your mouth, but to your displeasure, the kiss breaks.

"C'mon, baby, come shower with me" she says standing up, holding your hand, you get up too, grabbing on to her for support "lead the way" you say, a grin on her face.

Emily opens the water stream, letting the warm fog fill the bathroom, you try to catch Emily's lips to kiss her again, she offers a very fast for your liking peck that you try to prolong, but she's faster to grab the neck of your shirt, unbuttoning the buttons one by one, and taking it off.

Her eyes never leaving yours, she kisses your collarbone as she unclasps your bra, you reciprocate the action, doing the same with hers, Emily sighing in relief as her own restricting bra was undone.

The soft trail of small kisses on your collarbone soon moving southern to your sternum, she reacher your left boob, her soft lips feel warm on your smooth skin, never getting exactly anywhere, she removes your pants along with your underwear, and you do the same with hers.

You just want to jump in the shower with your girlfriend as fast as possible and forget the day.

She slowly pulled you into the shower behind the hot water, instantly calming your tingling body. Emily instantly pulled you into a hug as the warm water engulfs you two, running her hands through your back.

She lets you lean on her shoulder while she takes whatever sweet scented body wash she could reach faster and scrubs your back, washing the day off of you.

You do the same, grabbing the bottle and squeezing some on your hands to lather your girlfriend's slightly muscular arms, up and dow, then you move to get her shoulder, her back, you cover her in bubbles.

"I love your hands" She says. Her words take you by surprise, too focused on your task of getting your girlfriend clean that you hadn't even realized she was following your every move, her expression full of love. You chuckle first, but she interrupts before you open your mouth "I'm serious, baby. Please, please don't stop touching me" she kisses you again, depositing all her love and care on the kiss.

When you break the kiss you keep your ministrations, this time you lower your hands, her breath hitches when you cup her breasts, the same massage you were delivering to her arms, now you give them a gentle squeeze.

"mh- please, honey, touch me" you love hearing your girlfriend beg, asking for it, it's not the most common thing for her to do, but whenever a plead falls form Emily's lips, your completely at her mercy, ready to comply anything she asks you to.

She let out a breathy gasp as you played with her breasts, giving your girlfriend's mighty breasts another hearty squeeze before ultimately releasing her boobs. She grabs your hips pulling you close to her, she then leaned in, giving you a quick kiss, as you swiped her tongue against her bottom lip, she grabs your ass ginig it a gentle squeeze.

Grabbing her by the hips, you push her body gently against the shower wall, you move the kisses to her neck, sucking and biting her sensitive spots as Emily throws her head back to give you better access. You slowly kissed down her valley, dropping to your knees and stopping at her belly button.

"I will touch you as much as you want baby, whatever you need" You say as you look up at her. Emily only moans in response to your reassuring words. The sound sending her into a frenzy as you slowly lick up Emily's pussy with your broad tongue, stoping at her clit as you slowly suck it, swirling your tongue with intent. 

"oh god- yes sweetheart just like that" you moan at the nickname, the sound sending vibrations over the swollen bud. You alternated between gentle licks and firm sucks, using your fingers to tease and explore every inch of her sensitive flesh.

Emily could already feel herself beginning to fall apart, with her knees threatening to buckle out at any moment while pressure swelled within her loins, she places a hand on the back of your head for support, slowly pushing it to encourage you to keep going, and breathed out, "y/n… More! F-fuck, this feels great baby…" said as you dive back into her pussy with your tongue.

Your own arousal surged at the taste and sound of Emily's ecstasy, with each flick of your tongue, each gentle caress of your fingers, you bring Emily closer and closer to the peak of pleasure.

Really, you could keep your head in your girlfriend's pussy all day just eating her out, especially from hearing Emily's sweet moans.

Honestly, she could have stood to keep you buried between her legs forever. It won't take too long for her to be able to keep holding out against the growing pressure between her thighs, which makes her legs feel weaker and weaker with every lap of your tongue.

"I'm so close, baby, please" she moans, you pick up the speed, flicking your tongue against her clit as you curl your fingers against her g spot over and over again. Emily screams as her orgasm takes over. Crying out your name, she allows her body to do as it pleases as she comes hard onto your face.

As she comes down from the height, Emily holds you tight as you slid back to you feet, standing up, the warm water still running, warming your muscles, as your bodies grind against each other, she holds you close in an embrace, surrounding your waist with her arms, you both stay there letting the water rinse your bodies.

Emily is the first to break the silence "you have no idea how lucky i feel when you touch me" she says, caressing your lower back in soft circular motions.

"I'm the lucky one, Em" you say looking at her, she grabs your face, all wet from the shower "but i'm starting to get cold, we should get out now" she chuckles, pressing your lips together in a much sweeter, gentler kiss.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Next day you arrive to work together, Emily has her arm fully wrapped around yours, you don't pull apart until you get to your deks.

Emily sees Morgan on the kitchen, he's making himself a coffee, excusing herself to go talk to him

"Hey Prentiss, how you doin'?" he asks, in his face the usual cocky grin, Emily doesn't even respond

"If you ever tell my girlfriend anything about the way she is with me again, you will suffer the consequences, all right?" she says, a big, ironic smile on her face, she pats him on the shoulder, warning him.

She never leaves your side for the whole day.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Ok yes this one is longer than i thought it would be, but this was such a cute concept, I love overprotective Emily (should i write something with that? idk) Also no hate to Morgan at all!!!! I love him and he was just being playful, ok? I won't tolerate any Morgan hate on this blog!!!!

Hope you enjoy!! <3

#emily prentiss #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss lesbian #wlw smut #wlw fanfic #wlw #emily prentiss imagine #lesbian #lesbian pride #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #emily prentiss fanfiction #bisexual reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you

[groceryreceiptss]

hii! could you do peeta melark x reader? just some domestic sunday morning cuddling :) thanks so much!

'cause it's gravity, keeping you with me

peeta mellark x reader | word count : 0.9k | requested

a/n : hii!! to be honest, i wasn't really sure on how to write this so i'm really sorry if this wasn't what you had in mind, but i tried my best, and i hope you'll enjoy reading it either way! :) thank you for the request < 33 (also yes, i know the picture i chose doesn’t quite match the theme of this fic but look at him!! and look at that golden light on his face!!!)

contains : baddd writing. fluff -> soft intimacy!! but a bit of angst too if you squint. you know, longings and a sense of vulnerability. feelings of hopelessness and despair in the past. let me know if there's more!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the soft morning sun drifted its way to your face, resting its warm light against your closed eyes. you were just about to give yourself an excuse to sleep in a bit later before you subconsciously remembered that, today is a sunday. no business in waking up early then, you thought, as you pulled the blanket closer.

you shifted a bit and shuffled in closer to peeta’s body next to you. His breathing met at the same pace as yours and his heartbeat the same thrum as the one you had going.

peeta mellark. you knew it was silly to dwell on what could have and would have, but every day, each morning, as you woke up to his comforting presence next to you, you couldn’t help but wonder, what would your life have become, if he hadn’t been there to keep it going?

the war had destroyed everything, leaving trails of loss in its path, wider than the land itself. you didn’t know what you would have done, if you hadn’t seen him again. if he hadn’t come back to your life and reminded you that there were still reasons to live and try to heal for.

and every day you woke up feeling more grateful than the day before.

you didn’t know if an hour had passed, or had it been merely minutes later, when you felt peeta’s arms on your waist, pulling you back onto his chest, engulfing you in more of his warmth, his comfort. his head nested on the crook of your neck, his messy golden blonde hair on your cheek.

in response and out of habit, you brought your hands to his curls, smoothing them softly.

“y/n, sweetheart?” he muttered, and you could feel his lips on your shoulder, sending vibrations onto your skin and bone. it was crazy how he could still make your heart skipped a beat like it was the first time.

“hm?” you responded, still not ready to part with sleep too much to say anything else.

his lips lost touch with your skin and moved on to your ear, whispering, “turn around, look at me please.” 

and so you slowly did. with your eyes still refusing to open, you felt his fingers playing with your hair, pulling them off your forehead. 

“morning, sleepyhead.” he chuckled, and you could tell that he was playfully rolling his eyes. he kissed your temple slowly, and you let your eyes flutter open. 

rubbing your eyes in an effort to erase the sleep out of them, you mumbled, “how are you already awake? it’s sunday.”

“old habits die hard,” he’d answered before you felt his hands on your wrists, stroking them softly with his thumbs. 

you placed your arms around his chest, and as if on cue, he pulled you closer to him, earning him a soft sigh. “do you think it’s physically possible for us to get any closer?” he wondered aloud with a way too cute smile on his face.

still not entirely conscious, you muttered without thinking, “maybe once our bodies have withered into skeletons." oh, you caught yourself. “oh wait, that's dark.” 

he let out a light laugh at your scrunched up eyebrows. “i love you.” 

you looked up at him, into his deep beautiful blue eyes. his eyelashes are so long. “i love you too, peet.” 

and you did, you really did. you told him that everyday, but you never did think it was enough. it was so dramatic to actually utter it, but you truly didn’t think there was enough variety in the english dictionary to fully capture this. this thing that passed between you and him.

as if hearing your quiet thoughts, maybe your eyes had displayed a moment of fragility in them, he responded saying, “i know, love, i know.” 

the grip on your waist held on tighter, like it was scared if it faltered, then it would lose. you mirrored his gesture and snuggled your head further into his chest, the top of your head touching his chin. 

“you want to get some breakfast?” he mumbled into your tousled hair. 

you thought about it for a second, but then shook your head. you looked up at him, a wide smile etched onto your face. “no, i’m good here.” 

you didn’t want to leave this yet, this sacred place. one where you could feel his signs of life all around you, one where you could shut the entire world all around you and its bleak reality and made it only consist of you and him. peeta mellark. 

was it possible to fall further in love with the same person every time you heard his name in your head? was it possible to have the same name echoed through your head over and over like a promise?

you saw his lips formed into a bigger smile, his fingers played with the strands of your hair. 

maybe you knew, maybe you didn’t, but all he could think about  at this very moment was how he had gotten so lucky. to have you here beside him, letting him love you and and letting him show it to you. he looked at your face, with that big smile on it, eyes still bleary from sleep. you were so beautiful, my god. 

he nodded, agreed. he didn’t want to leave too. if he could stay here forever, he would. it would be like having lived a lifetime itself, he thought. “yeah, me too." he said softly as he planted a kiss on your forehead. 

#this is literally the first time i have ever posted any of my fics on... anything so sorry if it's bad <3 #thank you for reading!! #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark #the hunger games #thg #my writing! #requested

[picklypickle]

- The only one -

a/n: hiii everyone!! this is my first little story, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it, if you want to see more of my writing feel free to send me a request!! Enjoy! ;) words: 1.9k

warnings: tiny bit of swearing, I wrote this with a fem reader, kinda jealous Melissa

When you walk into the staff room in the morning, the first person you notice is your beautiful girlfriend, sitting at her usual table, sipping her coffee with her work wife, Barb, right next to her. At first, she doesn’t notice you, being way too preoccupied by whatever story Barbara is telling. But when she does turn to you, with a frown still on her face from the conversation that was happening prior, her gaze softens and she gives you a soft smile only you can recognize as an “I love you”.

“There she is!” you hear Jacob saying from across the room “Where were you? How come you didn’t get here at the same time as Melissa? Oh no, did you guys fight?” He nervously says as he quickly makes his way over to you.

“Nooo!! No no, I was just running a little bit late so I told Mel to leave without me, thank you for your concern tho!” you laugh.

Everyone at Abbott knew you and Melissa were together, infact, they were the ones who had gotten you two together in the first place, six months ago and they were the biggest fans too. If anything ever happened between you two, your colleagues would probably be more crushed than you and your own girlfriend.

You hear the teacher’s lounge door open and turn around to see who it might be. Suddenly, one of your very close friends and fellow teacher at Abbott, Lauryn, bursts into the room with her usual smile plastered on her face. When she sees you waving, she makes her way over to you.

“Hey girl!! Such a nice day today huh?” she says.

“It is! Oh my god I love your dress!!” you exclaim as you look up and down at her outfit. She is wearing the most beautiful flower patterned dress. You make a mental note to look online for a similar one when you get home tonight.

“Thank you so much!! You know, I bet it would make that perfect ass of yours stand out, you should get one.” She says and proceeds to lick her lips.

You blush out of embarrassment. Did she forget you are with someone? Even worse, that Melissa is literally sitting not even 2 meters from where this very awkward interaction just took place and heard it? You quickly try and look at Jacob, trying to see if he heard the same thing, but unfortunately, he has already left and is talking to Gregory. You quickly glance over at your girlfriend who you can tell very well, has her fists clenched so hard and is fuming right now.

“Uh, thanks!” you try to say as normally as possible, trying to hide the confusion in your face.  “Um anyways, I really have to go, the kids are going to get here soon.” You quickly say and wave goodbye, smiling at her. You rush out of the room, wanting to get away from this whole situation as fast as possible. However, Melissa notices this weird behavior, as she is getting up to come check on you Barb sits her back down. 

“Melissa, you heard what she said, the kids will be getting here soon, she probably just wants to prepare everything.” she says “And besides i'm not done with my story yet, so sit back down.” she adds, while tugging at her sleeve to bring her back down.

When you get to your classroom, you start writing everything you need down on the board, such as the date and the kids schedule that they can rely on during the day. While you’re writing with your favouite purple dry erase marker, your mind starts to wander off. You start to think about how everyone has been telling you for weeks now that Lauryn might be in love with you, but you’ve just been denying it and shrugging it off. But now, you’re starting to wonder if it’s actually true. It’s not like you’re into Lauryn or anything, you have the best girlfriend in the world! Infact, Lauryn’s flirty comments are starting to make you feel uncomfortable, you thought she knew that you were dating Melissa…maybe she forgot?

Before you know it, the bell rings and your little kiddos are running in and hugging you like they normally do every morning. You snap out of your thoughts and start your lesson, you’ll deal with the issue eventually, but for now, all that matters is your students.

★

After lunch was your free period while your students were in gym class. Today, you preferred to avoid everyone and stay in your classroom to do some grading on the most recent test.

Just as you put a sticker on the last copy, you hear a soft knock at the door, you turn arround expecting to see Melissa but you’re met with Lauryn’s grin, holding her cellphone.

“Hey! Am I bothering you?” She asks, peeking into your classroom to see if anyone else is there.

“Nope, I just finished grading these papers.” You reply, gesturing to the stack of documents on the corner of your desk.

“Ahhh alright well, I need to show you this video, it’s so us!” She says excitedly and comes to stand next to where you’re sitting down.

You start to watch the video but quickly realise it’s dedicated to couples… you stop paying attention and focus more on the reflection of the glass of the phone, when you see Lauryn, she’s not.. looking at the video? You try to see what she’s looking at and realize that she is staring directly at your cleavage, practically drooling too. You get red. You get uncomfortable. You start to pray for her to leave or someone to wal-

Someone knocks at the door, again.

“Am I interrupting something?” You look up, recognizing the voice. 

Melissa is standing at the door, hands on her hips.

“Oh hey Melissa!” says Lauryn “You aren’t interrupting anything, I was just showing Y/N this video.” She goes to show Mel the clip.

Your girlfriend clearly also realizes the video is meant for couples and clears her throat, crossing her arms. This makes you look up at her. You can see that she’s jealous, she is part of the group of people that think Lauryn is in love with you and she is also not having it right now.

“Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it!” Says Lauryn, she waves goodbye at the two of you and walks out of your classroom. Clearly she knows that you and Mel are together, so what is this all about?

You and your girlfriend stare at eachother for what feels like forever, until you decide to speak up first.

“Look I d-” You start.

“What the hell was that?” Your girlfriend cuts you off.

“Listen Melissa, I have no idea she just, ugh!” You say, being exhausted from this whole situation “Please don’t be mad, I don’t feel like fighting, I’ll talk to her later.” You finish.

“Hon,I'm not mad, heck if anything I'm jealous!” she says, uncrossing her arms and slowly walking towards you “She’s always making these comments and remarks about your body and undressing you with her eyes! I’m the only one who gets to do that here. And the worst part is, I can tell you hate it, it makes you extremely uncomfortable.” She continues, bending down infront of you and resting her hands on the armrests of your chair. You blush, she knows you perfectly.

“It does.” You say, getting more and more red. You quickly look down at her lips, unknowingly licking your own. The redhead in front of you notices.

“I know it does” she answers, bending her face down to yours, your mouths are inches away from each other “And no, i’ll be the one to do something about it.” 

You smile before kissing her softly, she kisses you back with just as much softness. After a moment, the kiss starts to turn more and more hungry. She places her hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You smile into the kiss. The school bell suddenly rings, signaling that you have to go get your kids from the gym. 

You groan as you pull away from her mouth

“Fuck, I have to go get my kids at the gym! I’m so sorry Mel, I'll talk to you later!” You quickly peck her lips before exiting your class.

Melissa stays there for a moment, smiling to herself, thinking about how much she loves you. 

★

It’s the end of the day, you students have alrea dy gone home and all that’s left to do is go down to the teacher’s lounge to collect your things that you had left there. 

When you get there, you’re greeted by all your friends who are also gathering their things.

“Hey girl, did you have a good day? I didn’t see you around much?” Asks Janine, with a small frown, her face slightly coated in worry.

“Yes I had a good day, I just had a lot of grading to do and preferred to do it in my own space.” You reply reassuringly.

“Oh okay!” She smiles at you.

“Hey, uh, Y/N?” You recognize the voice, it’s Lauryn “Do you think maybe.. you’d wanna um, get drinks or something tonight?” She asks nervously.

“Uh, um” you have no idea what to say “I uh..”

Melissa, who was talking to Barb as per usual, notices you and Lauryn right away and decides that this is her time to shine, this is where this little Lauryn thing stops. 

“Hey, Lauryn?” Melissa says while approaching you from behind “Have you ever noticed in the last six months that, I don’t know, me and Y/N are dating? Or did you just think we were joking?”

“Oh! Well..” The girl in front of you says 

“Save it glasses, and save up that money for a new pair because this one isn’t working” Mel says “Now back the fuck off before I throw you down the stairs and the only drinks you’ll be getting are jello cups from the hospital” She finishes, before quickly turning around to grab her things and you by the arm and dragging you out the door.

“Oh, bye guys!!” She loudly says to everyone else in the room to make sure everyone heard.

“Bye Melissa!” Janine awkwardly says and makes her way towards Lauryn to check on her, not to comfort her, just to make sure no one ends up hating her in the future.

★

When you get to Melissa’s car, you can’t help but smile at her, and then well, laugh. You had no idea she was going to do this right then and there but she did. She joins the laughing fit after a few seconds.

“Oh how I love you!” You kiss her passionately before turning to your own car “I’ll see you at home sweetheart!” You yell at her before shutting your car door and starting your engine.

“I love you more hon, i’ll cook you your favorite pasta for dinner!” She yells back before shutting her car door as well.

With that, you both drive away to where was originally only Melissa’s house, but is now yours too, and you plan on it being for a very long time. Plus, you get to look for that new dress you want! 

#melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic #oneshot #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x reader #i love her

[lskisms]

(not) strong, c. berzatto

syn. you think you traded all your luck on being able to wake up next to carmen every morning because it doesn't look like you have any left to spare. no matter; carm is here to patch you up.

gen. romance, angst.

warnings. crying, reader has a bad fucking day, carm is a sweetheart, mentions of food and eating.

word count. 1.8k.

you’re lucky that bad days tend to be few and far between; how could they not be when you have the privilege of waking up next to carmen berzatto every morning? he, of course, denies the effect he has on your life, says if anyone’s making a difference here, it’s you. but you really can’t downplay the warmth and light that sharing a bed with him, sharing a life with him brings to you. seeing him first thing in the morning is always the best part of your waking hours, a nice pick-me-up before you go to work; you have never taken that for granted.

but there are days where even seeing your boyfriend isn’t enough to wipe the slate clean, to erase that familiar sense of dread that makes its home in the pit of your stomach for you to carry around all day. having carmen with you, body or spirit (through text, of course), always momentarily eases the pain, but when he’s gone, when you have to stop texting, it comes back, agonizing and sharp like a blade twisting in your gut. all you can do is count down the hours, minutes, seconds until you get to go home and see him again.

today, it seems, is one of those days. regardless of the fact that you woke up feeling well, sharing a few soft kisses with carmy in bed before he made you breakfast and left you to your own devices so he could get to work, it seemed like the universe was working against you: you got to the train late, meaning you made it to work late, meaning you started the day off behind and if that wasn’t enough, you just couldn’t seem to get anything right. time has moved by at a snail’s pace, almost like the world is taunting you, wanting to drag this torture out for as long as fucking possible.

and it is. it is torture in all the worst ways, excruciating and harrowing. you didn’t have time to slip away and text carmy the whole day, barely had enough time for a lunch break, and even when you had taken your lunch break, typically a reset for you, things still were entirely awful. you’re astounded you even made it through the day without breaking into tears.

in public, at least, because the second you get home, it all comes rushing at you. the door closes behind you and the tears will not stop, no matter how hard you will them to just go away. you can’t even be bothered to hang your bag up on the coatrack, letting it drop to the floor instead on top of your different pairs of shoes left stranded at carmy’s front door. you trudge through the apartment into the bedroom, change into comfier clothes (a pair of shorts and one of carm’s sweaters), and lay down. it’s the only thing you can think to do after a rough day while you wait for your love to come home to you.

he does, eventually, though much later than you do; with his hours at the restaurant, it’s not often he comes home any time before eleven pm, and even that, that’s pushing it. it’s maybe closing in on half past eleven when you hear the door open and carmy’s voice, your name sounding as perfect as ever (nobody says it like he does, you maintain, your name has never sounded prettier than it does coming from him), and you become acutely aware that you have completely wasted the evening.

carm’s footsteps draw closer and then you hear him again at the door, a sweet lilt of “baby? you doin’ alright?”

and that, for some reason, just sends you over the edge. you’re not facing him, which is lucky, but you shake your head and close in on yourself, drawing your knees to your chest and making yourself smaller. you’re trying not to cry, not again, but it feels like the only way to react, the only way to get all of this out.

“sweetheart…” his voice is quiet and then he’s crawling up the mattress to lay beside you, shoving himself in the small space left between you and the wall his bed is pushed against. when he sets his gaze on you, all soft and clear blue sky, you fall apart, not sobbing but not holding back the tears anymore.

for a few moments, carm doesn’t know what to do. even though he’s seen you like this before, he still hesitates because you aren’t communicating what you need from him right now. still, the best bet, as always, seems to be wrapping you up and holding your pieces together. 

so he does. he scoots in close, tucks your head under his chin, and wraps his arms around you. and he doesn’t say anything else, just lets you cry into his shirt, no doubt staining it with your tears, but if he cares, he doesn’t show it. you’re sure part of the lack of speaking is from him just being a little awkward about it, but still, you’re thankful that he isn’t pressing you on it.

when the tears finally do stop, he waits for you to pull back, waits for you to make the first move. he meets your gaze head on, the arm that isn’t pinned under your head moving so that he can wipe away stray tears caught in your eyelashes or on your skin.

“what’s all this about?” he asks softly, tipping his head so that your foreheads touch. “what’s got you all worked up?”

you shrug with one shoulder, casting your eyes down, letting them focus on the neckline of his shirt. “i don’t know. today was just… a really… really bad day, carm.”

he nods, brushes hair out of your eyes, lets his thumb stroke your cheekbone. “you can tell me about it. i’m listenin’.”

so you do. you recount the whole day to him, every gritty little detail, and he listens intently, like what you’re saying is the most important thing in the world to him. and maybe it is because he treats everything you do and say like that; he takes everything to heart and turns even the smallest things into something big and monumental.

you realize as you’re talking that all of the bad things that happened are so inconsequential and it makes you feel kind of stupid. carmen comes home and complains about much bigger issues all the time, and you listen, of course, offer advice when he needs it; but his issues are always so much bigger than yours, there are things, lives, that ride on his decisions going over well. not like yours, not like this. and it gets you worked up again, laughing when the tears burn at your waterline again.

“hey, hey, what’s all this?” he asks, ducking his head to look at you when you try to turn away. “why’re you cryin’ again?”

“i really don’t know, carm,” you answer tearfully, shaking your head like the movement will get rid of it all. “guess i feel kinda stupid. i’m not strong like you are.”

he mimics you, his turn to shake his head, curls falling into his eyes. “you don’t need to be, alright? you don’t have to be strong like i am. i can be strong enough for the both of us. that’s my job.”

“are you sure? i just-”

his hand, rough and warm, comes to rest on your cheek and you look up at him. his gaze is gentle in a way that he reserves just for you. “i’m positive. i can’t do much, but i can do this, so let me… ‘kay?”

you nod, closing your eyes and muttering back an “okay.” he leans to press a lingering kiss to your forehead before tilting back down, his nose brushing against yours. you lay like that for moments that stretch into forever, his breath hot against your mouth and his arms warm around you, your own personal weighted blanket.

“i’m not that strong, by the way,” he says quietly, breaking the silence. when you make a noise of confusion, he clarifies. “you said i’m strong, but i’m not. not really. i got a lot of fucked up shit goin’ on ‘n half the time, i’m spaced the fuck out… y’know, and i worry that you’re gonna figure that out one ‘a these days, but… i wanna be strong for you. i try really fuckin’ hard it almost scares me. so i mean it when i say i can be strong for us both because i want that to be the truth, y’know?”

you wrap an arm around him and nod, pressing your face into the soft material of his tshirt. the thank you you say into his shirt is wet and thick with tears, but he doesn’t seem to mind all that much, wrapping his arms tight around you and holding you against him; he doesn’t seem to mind a lot of the things you do, just takes them in stride and adjusts, which is sweet.

“you don’t need to thank me for anything,” he says into your hair, rubbing your back. “it’s my job to take care’a you, so that’s what i’m gonna do, alright? now… you eat dinner yet?”

the scoff he lets out when you tell him that no, you haven’t, might come off as mean to anyone else, but to you, it’s anything but. this is, for all intents and purposes, what he was made to do and this is proof of that.

“‘course ya haven’t. alright, what d’you want, hm? i’ll make whatever you’re cravin’, so just tell me what it is.”

you rattle off your order and when you pull away to look him in the face, he’s got a smile that belongs solely to you. he kisses you all soft and gentle, lips warm against yours, the one thing you’ve really wanted all day, and it dismantles that dread you’ve been feeling, takes its house apart piece by loving piece until it’s razed.

“you really gonna make me a grilled cheese right now? it’s almost midnight.”

carm lets loose a breathy chuckle, kisses you again, quick this time. “yes, chef. not letting my baby go to bed on an empty stomach. you know i don’t play around like that. what kind of cheese you want?”

you know he doesn’t play when it comes to making food for you, so you tell him to surprise you. you’ll eat anything he makes anyways because when he makes it for you, it’ll always taste good.

© lskisms 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

#carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear x reader #.thebear #.carmy #.fic

[justauthoring]

the harsh truth [2].

because the truth was, it just wasn't possible. even if you and reno desperately wished it was.

a/n: this didn't start as a continuation of my other reno fic but it ended up being one :) you also don't need to read part one, but it's recommended!

pairing: reno sinclair x f!reader

tw: potential rebirth spoilers? just be cautious if you haven't played

part one.

This was so wrong.

Unbelievably, without a doubt, to the point your friends would hate you if they knew, wrong.

And yet, you couldn’t help yourself.

He was everything you stood against. The perfect embodiment of everything you fought against. He worked for Shinra… and not just a businessman or a foot soldier, but a Turk. He’d spent the entirety of his career trying to convince your friend Aerith to help Shinra, and while he’d never physically harmed her nor did she seem particularly afraid of him, it still stood to point that his and the rest of the Turks intentions weren’t all that innocent. 

Cloud had fought against them many times. Yes, more times than not, Cloud had come out on the winning side, it didn’t erase the fact that they’d been at each other’s throats more times than you could count.

He was the enemy.

He was Shinra.

Sure, you didn’t inherently think he was a bad person. In fact, you thought he had the capabilities to do great things, that deep in his heart he was a good person but he still did bad things.

He’d actively participated in the Sector Seven plate falling. There was no doubt, no way to change the story in small tweaks that made him seem just a little better. You’d been there. Sector Seven was your home just as much as it was Tifa’s or Barrets, Jessie, Wedge and Biggs had been your friends just as much as anyone else's… You’d seen him that day, in that helicopter, had nearly been barrelled by his own bullets.

Of course, he hadn’t known you were there. Not at first.

But still, it didn’t change anything.

It terrifies you though. Scares you to the core. Watching as Cloud pulls back his sword and aims it directly for Reno’s head. He’s going to kill him, you realize, going to hit him without a second thought. And sure, the others looked just as horrified; particularly Tifa, because killing was never something any of you had ever done.

Hurt, maim, beat… sure. All of those. But never killing. 

It’s different, though, for you. Means something else.

The striking, paralyzing realization that despite all of it, the thought of Reno dying makes you feel sick. It hurts in a way you can’t directly explain and there’s a desperation that’s bleeding through you to save him without a second thought. It’s why your feet move before you can stop them, it’s why it feels like you blink and then suddenly you’re in front of Reno, holding onto him tightly, on your knees, turning up to look at Cloud’s terrifying gaze and pleading with him.

“Please,” you cry, hoping there’s a shred of some care in Cloud for you that he’ll hear you and that he’ll stop. “Please don’t hurt him!”

And the words are intimate. More intimate than you mean. You’re not begging Cloud to stop for him, nor are you doing it because the act in itself is wrong… you’re begging him because you don’t want it to be Reno on the other end. You don’t want Reno to die. You’re doing it because you can’t stomach the thought of losing him. 

There’s a moment of hesitation, Cloud stops and his fingers twitch on the handle of his buster sword but then, he’s leaning forward, shifting with the intention of following through and your heart sinks. But you refuse to move. You’d rather be hit then Reno.

Reno shifts when he realizes Cloud isn’t going to stop, and there’s a paralyzing fear as your name leaves his lips in a shrieking cry and he moves with the intention to shove you aside but then Tifa’s arms are wrapping around Cloud and she’s pulling back, screaming his name.

You watch for a moment more, heart pounding against your chest, eyes drifting across everyone else who stares in a mix of shock and confusion, particularly aimed at you. But then your eyes fall on Aerith, and oddly enough she’s smiling; there’s a hint of worry behind her gaze as she shuffles to Cloud but she winks at you and despite it all, you flush.

Pushing yourself to your knees, you turn, knowing that Tifa has Cloud and let your eyes drift across Reno. You avoid his gaze even as he stares deeply back at your own, letting your eyes drift across his entire body. He’s got a few bruises here and there, and there’s a cut across his arm that’s bleeding but–but he’s okay.

When you finally meet his eyes, Reno is staring back at you, lips parted in disbelief. 

There’s a moment where the two of you just stare at each other, no words spoken, and then Reno leans towards you; “Y-Y/N–”

“We need to get going.”

Cloud’s sharp tone pulls you from Reno, eyes turning only to find him staring back at you, gaze harsh. Your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach, the realization of what you’d just done catching up to you; they probably all hated you. Tifa, Aerith, Barett… all of them were probably looking at you with a similar look because of what you’d done and it was you standing with Reno, on the opposite side of them.

With the man who had indirectly or directly hurt them in some way.

“We don’t have time to waste,” Cloud continues, and you flinch at his tone.

Eyes falling to your feet, you can’t bear to look at the others. “I…–”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Aerith cuts in and your eyes snap to her at her soft, warm tone. “We understand.”

She’s smiling, just like before. A gentle, comforting smile as she steps forward and nods at you.

Your lips part, shock flooding you.

When your eyes drift across the rest, they all wear similar expressions. Tifa, though clearly worried about Cloud, is smiling at you too and Yuffie’s grin mischievously down at you, wiggling her brows. Barrett looks somewhat confused, but he doesn’t look mad and Red and Cait’s expressions are just as eased.

None of them are mad.

“We’ll keep going,” Aerith nods at Cloud who has since turned his back to you. “You should get Reno somewhere safe,” she explains, sending you a thumbs up, stepping until she’s right in front of you.

You blink, body easing as her words settle.

Then, she leans down, lowering her voice; “and don’t worry about Cloud.”

She pulls back before you can say anything else, grabbing Cloud by the arm and tugging him with her as Tifa and Barrett both send you nods and then they’re all turning, walking off.

And just as Aerith turns the corner, she smiles back at you; “try to catch up you can, kay?”

You nod, still in shock, numb somewhat, until a minute passes and it’s just you and Reno.

Turning to the man, your chest tightens when you realize you’re faced with a whole new reality and that is Reno who no doubt will say something.

“Where’s Rude?” You find yourself asking, shifting to grab him so you can help him up. “Can you walk? If not, I can–”

Reno stops your movements, grabbing onto your arm with a tight hold before tugging you back down to sit with him. You stumble slightly, falling against him, your hands falling on his shoulders to catch yourself as you meet his gaze, faces inches apart from one another.

“Reno–”

“That was insane,” Reno breathes, shaking his head at you. “He would’ve killed you.”

Frowning, you swallow thickly; “it’s Sephiroth, I think… Cloud–well, I don’t think he’d try to hurt me–”

“Y/N,” Reno cuts in, “that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Lips parting, your shoulders fall. “My feet just moved.”

“You could’ve been killed!”

“You too,” you find yourself crying, eyes widening in exasperation as you meet his eyes. “And I couldn’t… let that happen, okay? Not to you… I was so scared and then my feet were moving and I just… fuck, are you okay?”

Reno stares back at you in disbelief.

“I thought you hated me,” he whispers, finally letting go of your arm.

“I tried to,” you mumble, glancing at your lap. “But I can’t. I… I love you.”

Reno sighs. “I’m a Turk.”

“I know,” you echo, biting your lip. “And I'm a part of Avalanche.”

His hand twitches by his side and he leans closer; “we could never work out.”

“I know,” you repeat, finally raising your head to meet his gaze once more. This time, you hold it, refusing to look away. He’s inches away, you can feel his breath ghost across your skin and feel his warmth radiate off of him. It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before the plate fell and you’ve missed him so much. “I couldn’t let you die though.”

Reaching forward, Reno cups your cheek and instantly, you lean into his touch. His eyes are sad, and there’s a deep frown across his lips. “I know,” he mimics, having nothing else to say. “I love you too, you know.”

Eyes falling shut, you let out a shaky breath. Normally, someone telling you they loved you as well would be happy but it pulls an ache from you that you can’t rightly explain.

“Can you walk?” You decide to ask after a moment.

“Yeah,” he grunts, pulling his hand away as you shuffle back, grabbing him by the arm and helping him to his feet. He lets out a groan as he does, and you frown up at him, watching as he uses his free hand to hold his stomach.

“Here,” you mumble, wrapping your arm around his waist and letting him lean his weight against you. “I’ll get you to Rude, okay?”

He hums lightly; “okay.”

“Then… then I have to go after them… you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “yeah, I know.”

He says it with a heavy heart and you feel it all the same. Because you loved him, and he loved you, but he was Shinra and you were Avalanche and despite it all, you both knew the reality of your situations.

Even if it hurts.

So damn much.

#final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii x reader #ff7 #ff7 x reader #ffvii #ffvii x reader #ffvii rebirth #final fantasy vii rebirth #reno #reno x reader #reno sinclair #reno sinclair x reader

[drarrily-we-row-along]

"What?" Harry asked, whined really, squirming a bit in his seat and trying not to feel too pleased. Or rather, trying not to let how pleased he was feeling show on his face.

"What, what?" Draco asked, grinning at Harry as he scooped another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and continued to look at Harry with that particular gleam in his eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, grin stealing over his face without his permission. In his lap, his fingers twisted around themselves as his heart fluttered around in his chest.

Fond. So impossibly fond. Looking at Harry like he was absolutely enthralled by his very existence. "Like what?"

Harry opened his mouth, closed it again, and shook his head. He looked down at his hands in his lap, fingers twisting while his heart continued its merry jig. "Like you love me," he murmured, shy and terrified of being too much, of reading too much into the expression on the other man's face, afraid that he was wrong.

"Harry," Draco said, voice light with gentle laughter.

He looked up, couldn't help himself, only to see that Draco's face was still doing that. Draco was still looking at Harry with such delight, such affection, that Harry couldn't breathe with it. His body was going to simply cease to exist, it wasn't possible for him to exist when he felt this loved, when he felt this happy.

"Is that all my face is saying to you?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He shook his head, looked away, bit his lip to stop the smile that was a product of the warmth that had spread from his chest and up his neck, warm and sweet as honey it filled his limbs, filled his brain, tried to erase his fears and doubts with more success than Harry would like, if he was being honest. Fears and doubts kept him safe, kept him from falling too far, falling too hard, falling into a place from which there was no returning.

"Do you want to tell me what else my face is saying?" he asked, teasing, and Harry ached with it.

He never wanted this moment to end. Never wanted to leave this place, leave this love, leave this perfect, crystalline day. Harry shook his head again, he couldn't say it. He couldn't tell Draco what else he saw on his face because what if he was wrong? What if he was just projecting all of his hopes and his dreams, but it wasn't really how Draco felt?

"I'm so into you," Draco sighed, resting his chin in his hand.

Harry looked up at him, couldn't help it. The smile was too big, too wide, his heart in his mouth ready to just spill his guts for what was surely not the first and hopefully not the last time.

"You're so attractive," he continued, giving Harry the words that he so longed to hear. "I love getting to spend time with you. I love when you look like this."

"Like what?" Harry asked, wondering what Draco saw when he looked at him, wondering if Harry said as loudly with his face and with his body that Draco was loved, was cherished. He wondered if Draco knew that he always wanted to be with him; always wanted to hold his hand, to cuddle on the sofa, to eat meals together, to tease him and make him laugh, to hold him when he was sad. "What do I look like?"

"Like you know you're loved," Draco said simply. "You look so happy, and I can't," he broke off, shaking his head, "I can't believe I get to be the one to put that look on your face."

He laughed, "What?" Without his permission, his fingers reached for Draco's, ghosting over his knuckles before Draco's fingers caught his and slid together.

"I love getting to make you happy," Draco said, shrugging helplessly, as he continued to look at Harry like he never wanted to look at anything else, face so open, so delighted that Harry felt like he couldn't quite look at him.

"I want to make you happy too," he said, squeezing his fingers, afraid, so afraid, that he was taking too much and unable to give Draco enough in return.

Draco lifted his hand, pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles, "You do. Harry," he said softly and Harry met his gaze once more. "You make me so happy."

"Yeah?" he asked helplessly, needing the reassurance, needing to hear the words to see his face when he said it.

"Yes," he said, huffing an incredulous laugh as he brushed his lips over Harry's knuckles once more.

"I love you." The words flooded out of his mouth, spilled between them without his permission. "So much, Draco. Do you know that too?"

"Of course I do," Draco assured softly, squeezing his hand. "Yes."

"A lot," Harry added, just in case his face wasn't as good at telling Draco as Draco's was at telling Harry. Just in case all of the love that filled up every nook and crevice in his body was being missed, just in case all of the love he felt and expressed differently was somehow not as readable, was somehow not enough.

"I know, love," he assured again, thumb brushing over Harry's wrist.

He squeezed the other man's hand, "It's different," he whispered, even though Draco already knew that, "Different than how you love me."

"Harry-" he started.

"But it's really big," he said, eyes filling with tears, "I love you so much."

"Hey," Draco said, moving so he could pull Harry into a hug, tucking him under his arm and letting Harry hide his face in his neck. "Hey," he soothed, "It's alright. I know, sweetheart. I know you love me just as much as I love you. I know."

"Promise?" Harry whispered.

He nodded, pressing his face into Harry's curls. "Yes, love. I promise. You're so good," he whispered.

He let out a soft sound, somewhere between a whimper and a word of dissent.

"You're so good. It's such a gift to be able to love you. You're such a good gift."

He wrapped an arm around Draco's waist.

"I love you," he murmured into his hair.

Harry nodded.

"Thanks for letting me," he added.

Harry hummed, he wanted to be loved more than anything, wanted this more than anything. But he could understand what Draco meant, it was scary to allow yourself to be loved, to believe that you are worthy of such a thing. Scary to imagine what could happen if you let yourself open up to the possibility of blossoming into a person who is loved, scary to imagine what would happen if you came to need someone else. Maybe sometimes part of loving someone else was allowing yourself to be loved in return. Maybe believing that someone loves you and letting them is itself an act of love to them. "I'm a little afraid."

Draco nodded, "that's okay. I am too sometimes."

"What do you do?" Harry asked.

He hummed, "Well, I ask if I can just let myself be happy."

"What?"

Draco shrugged, "I ask if I can just let myself be happy," he repeated. "Can today be enough for today? Can I just enjoy all of the good that this relationship has to offer without worrying about the possible loss in the future?"

"Can you?"

"Sometimes," he replied and Harry could hear the smile in his voice. "I try to. Because today is all we have and grieving what I do not know today has never made loss later any easier."

Harry sighed, snuggling a little closer.

"So, Harry Potter, can you just let yourself be happy today?"

He took a deep breath, thought about it, and nodded. He could do that. He could just let himself be happy. One day at a time.

-----------------

Read more of my fics, if you’d like

#drarry #ace harry potter #love #soft #fluff #one shot #reassurance #tenderness #may or may not be based on the author's real life experiences presently #being ace and navigating a relationship is scary

[arashi-no-saxlphone]

Axl Low is literally insane and inhuman for making that decision at the end of Xrd btw. I know I keep bringing it up but I really don't think we appreciate just how fucking different you have to be to make that decision. Axl lived his whole life doing the right thing and trying to make the world around him better (ending gang violence in his neighborhood, refusing to take a life no matter what, that bit that mentions he cannot ignore someone in trouble) and after all that effort, he gets fucking shafted by fate. I need you to understand that for the majority of this series HE DID NOT HAVE CONTROL OF HIS TIME POWERS: HE WAS SLIPPING TO RANDOM POINTS IN TIME AND HAD NO IDEA WHY. There are a few moments where he gets happy with a specific situation and TIME SLIPS IMMEDIATELY! This happens to him for YEARS. Do you know how insane that would make the average person? He misses his home, he misses his friends, he misses his wife Tails (he misses her a lot), and he just can't do anything about it.

Now imagine after all that you find out you can go back. You have a way back home. "Finally, it's fucking over. I can be done"

Oh but hold on! You are a Time God now, a "Possibility!" If you go back you are essentially killing everyone in THIS timeline (which is fucked up and shitty and plagued by monsters, arguably) and you are just a normal man who has to cope with all of that! But hey, go back if you want, it's your power.

After YEARS of putting up with all that. Put yourself in Axl's shoes. Look me in the eye and tell me you'd give a flying fuck about any of that. Aren't you fucking tired at this point? You didn't ask for this. You were stolen from your time without your consent and time powers got basically stapled to you and now its YOUR fault? You should give a shit and be stuck here forever because of that?

Now, REALLY become Axl Low. Really look back at all that angry paragraph and think to yourself "Wow Sai, that's not how Axl thinks of it at all."

Exactly.

Axl agonizes over a decision that should be easy, even if that decision would be monstrous and selfish, because this is a man who is carried by PERSPECTIVE. Axl is a man who will tell you a glass is half full no matter how you phrase the stupid logic problem, and if you dump the glass out completely he'll just go and get you a fresh one. Axl talks to a bunch of people about his decision - hell, as I recall, Sol actually tells him if he tries that shit he'd try and stop him because that's his world you're erasing. Bedman talks about how much he cares for his sister. I-No talks about how no matter how powerful she is, she can never seem to write the future she wants. Axl seeks the advice of all these people and that's when he realizes:

These are people too. These are people just like him. They didn't ask for this fucked up world they're stuck in either, but they're all living in it. They're making it better. If they can all do it, hell, can't Axl do it too?

"A girl passed by a dog's bark bow wow the smell from that cafe makes me hungry I knew all about it"

Isn't there stuff in this world that makes it special too? Isn't life just as beautiful here too? Don't these people deserve to exist too?

"I'm alive. I'm alive. It is dramatic with just that."

He's still kicking isn't he? Sol's still around and he's been through hell - he's still finding time to drink with this goofy brit he keeps bumping into - Can't Axl find a way to live here too?

He outright admits to Sol that Megumi would probably forgive him - it's an impossibly unfair decision after all, he KNOWS that. But I think after seeing himself in all these people he knows what he'd want- he'd want to live and exist.

And Axl Fucking Low says "How could I be a man worthy of Megumi if I did that?" and saves the fucking world with Sol Badguy. He makes an impossible decision and stays here. And he says he's lucky.

You're the unluckiest man alive, Mr Low. I've not seen anyone get more unfairly treated by fate in my life. But then again-

I suppose I can't convince you how much water you've got in that glass.

#sairambles #guilty gear #axl low #ggst #sol badguy #I-No #Bedman #long post #sorry I've been drinking I kinda started crying about this LOL

[ghcstao3]

Soap likes to draw. It’s a simple fact of his life, and just about anyone who knows him knows it too. On or off base, he’s usually never without a notebook and an apparatus of some kind, because it passes the time, and it serves well to document his missions in further detail for both himself and debriefing.

Everyone knows this, and Soap is aware of that. What no one knows, however, is Soap’s favourite subject, because that’s a notebook that’s kept secret and often left only to be used on leave.

The only person who knows is Ghost, whose form fills those pages in some way or shape, because Soap knows damn well no matter the effort he’d never be able to hide such a thing from him, especially not once they’re living together beyond work.

(Of course, it doesn’t help, either, that Soap prefers to study Ghost while he sketches, rather than drawing solely from memory—because how else would he capture the most intricate of details?)

That being said, Soap could trace the fixation back to a single moment in time, where an itch to scratch branched off into a near obsession from only a couple of seconds, and that moment is the first time Soap ever sees Ghost’s face.

It’s unexpected, the way Ghost pulls off his mask in front of the 141 and company. His eyes are almost squirrely, never quite meeting anyone’s gaze, but Soap doesn’t think he’s ever been so in love.

He doesn’t get quite enough time to memorize, however, before another mask is being slipped over mussed blond hair and pale scarred skin, and suddenly Soap is overcome by the desire to draw Ghost.

To draw Simon.

When they finally arrive back on base following the Las Almas operation, Soap doesn’t waste any time pulling out his notebook and drawing Ghost to the best of his memory. When he finishes, he knows he’s gotten some things wrong, but he hasn’t much to work with. He erases and pencils in new lines tens if not hundreds of times trying to get it right, but it simply isn’t possible.

It’s too bad for Soap, because he just isn’t satisfied with his current result, and it’s too bad for Ghost, because Soap is a persistent, stubborn sonuvabitch.

They’re not quite on leave when Soap begins his endeavour, just between missions. He starts by making a purposeful show of drawing the 141, forcing them to sit so he can, supposedly, get everything perfect. It’s under the guise that he sucks at drawing people (a complete and utter lie), and what better way to practice than with those waiting around.

Soap saves Ghost for last, and it’s a damn good thing he does, because what a difficult affair it is convincing him to sit for, what Ghost deems, “a stupid art project”.

“I have better things to do, Johnny,” Ghost tells him. “And you do, too.”

Soap shrugs. “Maybe. But I won’t stop asking ‘til you agree, Lt.”

Ghost would continue to push off the request—a true testament to his resolve, really—but Soap would continue to insist, so finally, eventually, Ghost breaks.

The encounter is more than reluctant, but Soap figures that Ghost has realized it's either now or later that it happens. He still wears his mask, of course, but it’s only the balaclava—so at the very least, Soap could get his eyes just right.

And that’s a better start than none.

They’re tucked away in a quiet corner of the base for Soap’s “stupid art project”. Ghost shifts constantly while Soap scribbles away in his notebook, first unsure where to look, then unsure of where to put his hands. Soap wears a smile the entire time.

“You’re allowed to move, you know,” Soap says after much too long of a time. He keeps himself from laughing. “It’s better if you do, really.”

Ghost glares daggers at Soap. “You didn’t want to tell me that sooner?”

Soap grins at the Lieutenant but makes no further comment. He’d rather have his life spared for the time being.

Once Soap has finished, he doesn’t say anything. He just sets his pencil down and closes his notebook and makes to leave. Ghost watches every movement closely and remains silent himself. Only, he doesn’t move from his spot, and Soap can almost feel that he has a question he’s debating to ask.

It never ends up phrased as a question, but Ghost’s hesitation is so palpable it might as well have been.

“Let me see.”

Soap hadn’t expected Ghost would want to, though a part of him had most definitely hoped otherwise. He doesn’t put up a fight for such a reason, instead wordlessly passing the notebook to Ghost to browse.

It’s Soap’s turn to fidget as Ghost flips through pages. Most take only a few seconds, nothing more than an impassive look, but Soap knows the moment Ghost stumbles upon the page of his face, sans mask. There’s an instant of realization from them both, and the world feels at a standstill.

When Ghost clears his throat, Soap does his best not to flinch. Maybe this endeavour isn’t worthwhile. Maybe it’s nothing more than an invasion of Ghost’s privacy. Of his person.

Finally, Ghost looks up at Soap, his hardened gaze no different from the one he always wears. There’s no emotion in them, and Soap doesn’t know if that makes everything better or worse.

Soap doesn’t notice how tightly Ghost grips the notebook until later, when he spots the accidental smudge of graphite from the Lieutenant’s thumb.

“When did you do this, Johnny?” Ghost asks. His voice is low and steady as usual, but there’s a near unnoticeable strain that sends guilt through Soap’s body. By now he’s certain he’s made an irreparable mistake.

Soap swallows. “When we got back from Las Almas, sir.”

Ghost looks back at the drawing and nods. He does as Soap had and closes the notebook, sliding it back and standing from the bench where Soap had told him to sit. Soap waits nervously, impatiently, for Ghost to say anything, to curse him out, to tell him to get rid of it, but soon it seems like he would do nothing of the sort.

“Not bad,” is all he tells Soap, before walking off to disappear to God knows where. Soap stays glued to the spot for a solid five minutes following, until he finally feels like he can breathe again.

Not bad. Soap supposes it could’ve been a lot worse.

#i hope i haven’t posted this before #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ghost x soap #soapghost #ghoap #ghostsoap #writing

[luveternals]

paring: 4. simon 'ghost' riley x artist male reader. cw: introvert reader with low self-esteem, there's a waiter whose love language is food, ghost has selective mutism(tell me if I got anything wrong), swearing, the seafront location was originally inspired by Naples' Lungomare, Italy. <- posto da visitare assolutamente, guys. a/n: bam! they thought I was gone, but I ain't. Lol guess whose first language isn't English. anyway, new posts' schedule: still to be decided (check the my pinned post). ~ ~ ~

You've seen this trend around for a while and decide worse case scenario people get offended, call you a creep, and you won’t be able to show your face to the public ever again.

What could possibly go wrong?

Put on the brave face, man, you tell yourself taking in a fortifying breath. It’s not that they don’t know how much of a loser you already are.

Not wanting to be the stalking weirdo on the train or subway, you choose a nearby café. They know you here, at least. Though, you can’t decide if it’s for the better or worse.

The waiter is already setting up a tray on the counter when you open the door, and from the cheeky little wink he gives you, you know it’s for you. Noah knows your goto morning food and drink, though you never told him. He found out all on his own — honestly, you don’t even recall having a favorite to begin with.

“There he is,” he says and pushes the tray towards you when you stop at the counter, “precious little artist. Punctual as ever.”

You try to smile, but it pulls at your lips and you know it looks nothing but awkward. “How do you know I might change my order today?”

“Are you going to?”

You shrug.

“Thought so.” He pokes at the tray and points at your table, set way at the back of the café. “Now, this better not go cold, hmm,” he leans forward and squints at you, “I mean it.”

You huff at him and turn away with the tray in hand. “Whatever, mom.”

“Oh!” you hear him gasp offended, “kids these days.”

Idiot.

One thing is certain, being a loyal customer of theirs has its little perks. One being your usual table has an unspoken reservation on it. Every time you come here, it’s there for you. The fact that people don’t usually sit this far from the counter unless there’s no other option is an appreciated bonus. You place the tray on the table, set your bag on the empty chair next to yourself, and finally take a seat.

Unsure of how to start, you pick Noah as the first subject of your little experiment. He’s been nagging you about making a portrait of him for ages now, so you know for a fact he’s not going to mind.

You start your sketch with his beaming face. A circle for the shape of the head. A downward line at the center to keep everything spaced correctly. Find the position of eyes and nose. Shape of the face. Erase the lines you don’t need anymore.

You brush off the little eraser crumbs away and raise your head to check his face again. He’s turned away though, and your attention slides to the customer in front of him waiting for his turn.

He’s a hulking figure, dark wear and face mask covering mouth and nose. You’ve never seen him around before.

Noah's café is small and cozy, tucked away in a little corner. Tourists don’t really pick this as their first choice.

You move to draw on an empty part of the page.

-

“Oh ho! Looky here.”

You jerk and almost fall off the chair at the sudden presence peering over your shoulder. "Jesus, fu— what the hell is wrong with you?”

He steals the sketchbook and flips through the pages. “Love struck, aren’t we?” he snickers, inspecting the lastest drawings you’ve added to your collection.

You snatch the book back and fight the urge to check if anyone heard. “I thought I told you not to touch without permission.”

“I’m sorry,” he says and raises his hands before him, “I just… it’s been a while since I saw you draw so passionately, and I got curious. thought you lost your muse.” He glances down at the sketchbook and gives you a playful grin, “I guess you found a new one?”

-

“It’s been an eternity, are you ever going to talk to him?” Mr I-don’t-know-how-to-mind-my-own-business sets a second pastry you never ordered beside your empty plate and lean over to look at your current drawing.

“Can you, like, leave me alone?”

“You’re an artist,” he says with the flattest tone, “without me, who would keep you fed and hydrated and alive, you?”

You purse your lips and raise your chin to stare up at him. How dare he? You don’t need no one’s help to take care of yourself, thank you very much. It’s not like you forget time passes when you're drawing and end up with only breakfast in your belly all day. it happened, sure. Still.

“You know what, you’re being a real pain right now,” you say and stand intending to leave the café and head to the park or something.

Of course, your action is too abrupt and you end up bumping into someone who was making their way to a table near yours. And catastrophe happens.

When you turn, you realize the person you knocked into is the man you’ve been drawing these last days. Even worse, his eyes are locked onto your open sketchbook right on the spread littered with portraits and drawings of him.

Fuck.

Here comes the part where he thinks you're a weirdo and leaves the café with the intention of never coming back.

“Oh, hello!” Noah says and wiggles his fingers at the man with an overly cheery expression. “My friend here was just about to come and talk to you about these,” he says, gathering your drawings and shoving them into your arms, “he’s a little shy, so he needed a little push,” he adds, then shoves you towards the other man.

You stumble but recover quickly, and when you turn to glare at your friend he simply sends you a wink and mouths ‘don’t be a loser and ask him out’.

“He’s not even being subtle at it.” You don’t expect the man to talk to you at all, or to stay after that to begin with. There’s amusement in his voice and when you meet his gaze, you find a soft look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you say, breathless. From this close up, his eye color catches your attention and you have to refrain yourself from leaning closer and finding out how it is that it seems to change from hazel-brown to blue and back. “Yeah,” you say again and drop your attention back to your things to stop yourself from staring, “he’s an idiot. But he's a good friend despite it all. He pretty much keeps me alive by shoving food into my face.”

-

Talking to Simon is not as awkward as you'd told yourself it'd be. He doesn’t judge you for all the drawings you did of him and instead compliments you on your skill. He does tease you, though.

“If I knew I was being stared at for so long I would have posed.”

“Shut up.”

“Need a model? I could do naked as well if you want.”

“Ugh.”

His laugh is contagious and you're helpless, so the teasing doesn’t stop.

-

Friendship with him is not the same as with Noah.

The waiter is a beaming ball of life, open and bold and buzzing with energy. You love him but, sometimes, spending time with him is quite exhausting. 

Simon on the other hand, he knows silence. 

He sits at your table, book in one hand and tea in the other, enjoying the simple company that is your presence despite not having said a word since the simple greeting you shared this morning.

Noah gives you a thumbs up from over Simon's shoulder.

-

“Why don't you just use a normal pencil for sketching?”

You peer up at him, hunched over the page. He's not even looking st you, but you know he's waiting for answer, curious and with real interest.

The first time he asked you a question, you've fumbled with your words unsure if he cared at all and if you'd scared him of with your chatter. Words aren't for you, but the longer you talk about the same thing on and on, you figure he doesn't mind and didn't ask just to have some awkward small talk. And so you blabber on about how it makes it easier to distinguish the first quick sketch with a color and the details you've added later with another.

He's eyes are pinned on you now, and you find you don't really mind being stared at like you thought you would.

-

“Ask him out.”

You haven’t even reached the counter and Noah is already at it. “Can you not?”

“Precious, I can see the love struck dreamy smile you give him from a mile away,” he says, adding a second steaming cup to your tray. “Introvert doesn’t mean allergic to people. You’re not the complete failure at socializing you imagine yourself being.” He pushes the tray towards you and leans against the counter. “youst case scenario, if he says 'no' I’ll go with you.”

You grimace. And then wide the look off your face when you register your reaction. “I mean— it's not that I don’t like you, it’s just that—”

“Wow, man. Wow,” he scoffs, “this is worse than when you left the sketch of my face half done.”

Oh, fuck. You forgot about that one?

“Whatever, man,” he says with a roll of his eyes, his lips twitch at the corners. “If he does say 'no', I'll buy you that kit you’ve been swooning over for the past month. Best quality color and all that.” He waves at you to move along, only to pull your tray closer to himself again and popping a tiny little pastry right in the middle. Then sends you off to your doom.

-

“I've been thinking,” you blurt out in response to his ‘mornin’’.

Simon pauses right about to take a seat, raises an eyebrow and finally settles down. “Have you, now?”

“Yeah,” you say and tap the end of your pencil against the table. “Yeah. Do you like the park? No, wait. Do you like going to the park with me— would you…” You take in a breath and raise your gaze to the ceiling, “really, now?”

After a long moment, you shift your attention back to him ready to try again. His eyes are shining, little wrinkles decorating the corner of his eyes.

The mask covers it, but you know for a fact that he's smiling.

You feel your cheeks going warmer and you have to fight the urge to backtrack and hide behind your sketchbook. “Do you wanna,” you say, “go to the park with me?”

-

It's an oddity to find him already seated, no tea in sight either. From the look Noah gives you, after a month of simon coming in every day, this is a novelty for him as well.

You bring your tray to the table and sit beside him without a comment, only a simple greeting and a gentle smile. You set a cup of tea before him, alongside one of the sweets Noah refused to take back when you told him it was probably too much food. He actually looked offended by the comment.

“It’s double the stuff he usually gives me, Simon,” you say when he tries to have you keep it, “just eat it. Or better, help me finish it all, I beg you.”

He stares at the food for a long moment, then visibly gives up on convincing you. He doesn't touch it though.

The tea goes ignored as well.

You purse your lips. Well, that won’t do.

“Say,” you start and tilt your head to catch his gaze, “do you wanna go out for a walk? There’s a place I wanted to show you.”

He watches your face, then shifts his attention around the café, on Noah and finally on the food he left untouched.

“I'll have Noah put everything in a bag. I know he won't mind.”

He hesitates, but nods.

You smile at him and beam when the gesture seems to lessen the tension on his shoulders.

You bring him to a local bookstore. Like with the café, this is a little business famous mostly in the neighborhood. It’s never overly crowded but there’s always a kid or two binging their current read.

You leave him to scan the shelves and move to do the same not far.

Hah! They’ve finally restocked the stationary corner. Hooray! You definitely don’t need another journal, but no one can stop you from staring at them with gut wrenching despair.

Would Simon like it if I bought him one?

At the thought you turn to search for him and find him already making his way to you with a new book in hand.

You've got the membership card here so you manage to convince him to let you pay. Both for his book and the journal you're holding.

-

You don’t know many places to visit, but those you are familiar with are the best for those who don’t care for ‘crowded’.

The seafront isn’t one of them but you hope the view will make up for it.

It’s a risky move, but you think you’ve grown close to him enough to know he's quite comfortable with being by himself, but sometimes silence isn't what he wants or needs.

Noah told you you’re a pretty good observant and that analyzing the world around you is what makes you an artist. So you hope he wasn’t making that up.

There's a little corner towards the end. Here the view is partially covered but when you check his face, you're glad to discover he doesn't seem to mind at all. He hasn't said a word at all since you met this morning, but his attention has been pinned on you all day even after the nonsense rant you've gone on about AI art. 

You pull out a thermos from the café’s cute, little bag and hand it to him like an hesitant offering. His tea has been kept safe and warm inside all morning, but you don't know if he'll accept it after earlier. 

His eyes soften and he takes the thermos with the same care you've handled it with, and holds it in both hands like he wants to keep it safe.

A spark of hope warms your insides, so you take out two pastries and hand one to him. "He's going to make me eat more tomorrow," you say and take a bite, as if to show him Noah does know how to bake — oh, yep, he really does. God. "And you haven't had breakfast yet. Please?"

It takes a moment, but eventually, he turns away from any unwanted gaze, moves his face mask out of the way, and brings the food to his mouth to take a bite.

It slow, delibeate and so very careful, but he's eating, and now you finally understand. How Noah cares so much about keeping you fed. 

~ ~ ~ a/n: I'm not entirely sure if I got it right. Here's what I was thinking: noah is there to keep the reader from neglecting himself; ghost is a new face at the café and with a little push they become friends; reader starts taking care of ghost end consequently takes care of himself. comment, reblog and/or follow. yadda, yadda, yadda, this blog feeds off feedback or it'll go boom! don't just like please...

#simon ghost riley #x top male reader #call of duty #top male reader #dom male reader #male reader #reader insert #x reader #cod x reader #cod #cod mw2 #second person pov #original writing #story day

[deyisacherry]

TSAMS Drabble. — Moon. [Solar's Death]

The screen reflects his face. Sometimes he wishes he wasn't able to have facial expressions.

He looks tired.

Depressed.

He doesn't hear any sound. Ruin has done his part by not speaking to him unless Moon addresses him.

And Moon prefers to pretend he's not there when he's not talking.

He assumes that he must be watching something in his headspace for entertainment. Because of course he doesn't have to deal with any guilty thoughts.

Not like him.

This... this whole situation, he could have avoided it. Part of him wants to give himself the comfort of not blaming himself, of saying that he was doing the right thing by just trying, for once, not to kill as the only way to protect his family. That he was doing the right thing in giving at least a little of his trust to what he could see.

But, it is stronger, more stormy, the part of him that allows the guilt to slowly eat away bolts and bytes in his system until it leaves nothing but... emptiness. Pain.

No matter how much he tries to convince himself, he feels responsible.

He feels like an idiot.

Perhaps he deserves it.

He makes a sighing sound and weakly lifts his arm, opening the compartment in it to send information to his computer.

But...

Before touching any button, his hand freezes. His brow furrows as he feels as if his core is being hit mercilessly.

The sticker. That... silly little thing.

Something they only used when Eclipse had just reappeared and then it just stayed there. In them.

And yet...

"Ah, you're cute."

"Yeah, I know."

. . .

Solar's disappeared too, didn't it?

But... it wasn't part of the other dimension. It was just attached to him...

Maybe-... No.

Why does he think about that?

It's no use looking for it, checking, what's the point? It doesn't contain anything...

But it's-

Moon just wants...

A memory.

Physical.

He closes the compartment. His arms lower to their previous position.

Yes, Solar rebuilt the daycare, Solar worked in the theater. But just something small, something he can carry around with him while -... while he keeps trying. Something to give him extra motivation to continue...

God, how is anyone supposed to deal with this?

Death, loss.

He rushed to stop Ruin believing he would lose Sun. He lost Solar.

If it were the other way around... Moon knows he'd feel the same way. Or worse.

At least he has him.

But still Solar was-... Solar is an important part of his life. For the others, although it is only a short time since they had him with them, it hurts horribly.

For Moon, the short time he has been around since he was reset is what makes it hurt just as much or more. That's almost how long he had to know Solar.

He spent so much with him in his dimension, helping, coexisting.

That's why it hurts like this.

Because with Lunar, despite waking up without knowing him while everyone else did, knowing later about him and understanding that he was his brother, even if it hurt, they still had hope that he was already being rebuilt. That he would return, and he would be the Lunar that the others knew, and that he could meet once more.

And so it was.

But this?

This loss?

. . .

He would really like to erase from his mind the possibility of never being able to bring him back.

Of never hearing his voice.

His quiet, tired, kind presence next to him as they worked, or as they hung out. With family, with friends or...

Just the two of them.

Why does this feel this way?

He's so... broken.

He doesn't want to rest, he doesn't want to pretend he's being strong. He's not strong...

He misses him.

He wants solar back.

He wants to apologize for being an idiot. For not thanking enough.

He wants...

[Loading 23% of information out of 100%]

[10 hours remaining.]

“…” He makes a call. The tone rings for a few seconds. They answer.

“M-Moon?”

“Sun… Are you home?”

“Uh- yeah? I-I just got there. Did something happen?” He answers with nerves, or concern. Both.

Moon sighs. “Could you... check in- the guest room if there was... something left on the floor? Anything?"

“Ah- I thought there was... nothing left? I-I honestly haven't wanted to go in there again, to clean or something, since-”

“I know, I know- I just-... Please?” Moon's voice is weak.

On the other side, Sun squeezes both of his hands together. Hearing Moon this sad is not easy. "... Okay..."

Moon can hear Sun silently walking into the room. The door opening.

It takes a few minutes. Sun mumbles to himself. Moon just continues watching the computer screen in front of him.

For a moment Sun stops talking. Moon feels cold

“… What-… am I looking for exactly, Moon?” Sun sounds shaky when he speaks.

"What did you find?"

“... There's- uh-... it's- not that important I think, but... it's- it's something, I guess?”

Moon receives a picture. Solar's sticker

Cheesy. Childish. Just any idea they had.

But it was his.

“... Could you keep it for me? While I get home?”

“Uhm-... sure.” Sun answers softly. "It doesn't…” He hesitates in his words. “It doesn't work to bring Solar back, does it?”

"No..."

Moon doesn't explain why.

But Sun gets it. He really does, and he will support his brother in any way he can. “I'll leave it in your room, Moon.”

"Thank you..."

"No problem..."

Moon hangs up the call.

Complete silence once again

. . .

He can't leave yet.

He will charge his battery when he gets home.

#tsams #sams #sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #sams moon #sams solar #sams sun #tsams moon #tsams solar #tsams sun #implied solarmoon #can take it as family though #platonic #anything #idc #drabble

[heliads]

Hello if on’t know if it’s closed or open but if it’s close I’m sorry erase what I did, can you do a Thomas tmr hurt comfort when the reader is sad and reckless and everyone in the group notice and try to cheer her up ? Because she feel empty with everything that happened in her life from the glade to the scorch ? Please 🙏 thank you 💕

'after the safe haven' - thomas

masterlist

No one knows you better than the Gladers.

That, of course, should come as no surprise. You and your friends have survived more horrors than you ever thought possible. If it weren’t enough to find yourselves stranded in the middle of a massive maze without any memory of who you were or how you got there, you also had to break yourselves out, then find a way to survive both WCKD and the end of the world.

When you finally made it to the Safe Haven, you had assumed that you would finally be alright. You weren’t in danger anymore. You and your friends were safe. WCKD couldn’t find you if it tried, and the Cranks were an ocean away. It was truly a paradise. It should have been enough for you.

It wasn’t.

How could it possibly be enough? Whenever you looked around, you saw the signs of society starting to rebuild itself. Some of your fellow Gladers were taking charge, having already been used to what it took to organize everyone after the Maze trials, and others opted for simple jobs, deciding that their days of responsibility were over. Your friends are doing better, for the most part, but you feel the opposite way.

No, you feel terrible. It’s like having this break from running around day and night has only given you the time to realize how much you’ve lost. When you watch Minho and Thomas joking with each other, you don’t appreciate their friendship, you think about how strange it is that Newt isn’t there with them, or Alby, or Chuck. When one of the younger kids falls and skins their knee, your first response isn’t to brush off this small injury but to wonder if they could have survived out in the Scorch with an open wound. It would get infected easily, you know. Anything could happen.

This is supposed to be the part where you relax and give up your paranoia, but you just can’t manage it. Even weeks after the last time you came in contact with WCKD or the Cranks, you still jump whenever you hear a loud noise when you’re not expecting it. You still get nightmares about running through the Scorch with a pack of infected behind you. You still carry your weapons around, even though there’s nothing to fight. Even Gally has given up on tucking knives into his belt loops, even Minho knows there’s nothing to run from. Everyone is aware of this but you.

You’re not sure why you’re taking it so much harder than the rest. All of your friends are dealing with all of the torment of the Maze and the Scorch, obviously. The first few days after you arrived at the Safe Haven, everyone’s eyes had bags under them from lost sleep, and no one could hold a conversation without speaking quietly in case a Crank heard them or jumping when they saw someone moving in the distance.

Over time, though, they were all able to move on. You’re coming up on a month after your arrival in the Safe Haven, yet you’re no closer to healing than you were at the start. You’re not sure what it takes for you to be better, but at this point, you’re willing to wager anything. You spend time with your friends, but you can’t stop yourself from being quiet and withdrawn. You force yourself to put in extra hours at your job in the hopes that the tedium of a chore will take your mind off of things, but you still get nightmares when you go to bed, no matter how exhausted you feel.

It’s enough to make anyone feel hopeless. You’re sure your friends are aware of it, but there’s nothing they can do. Everyone’s dealing with this, everyone’s trying to figure out how they are when they’re not fearing for their lives. There’s simply no good way to move on after the apocalypse.

Thomas, however, seems to be the most attuned to your shift in mood. He asks how you are every morning, and doesn’t seem content until you honestly answer him. He’ll listen to you ramble on about the unsettled feeling in your blood when you don’t have to be on the run anymore, and he constantly reassures you that you’re all going to be alright.

Truthfully, you don’t know what you’d do without him. Thomas is one of the best parts of your life, if not the very best entirely. You have no idea how he’s still going after losing so many friends right before his eyes, but he somehow manages to not only keep himself alive but you, too. He’s all you need. Him, and the splendid truth of the Safe Haven, the knowledge that for once in your life, you are not going to die. Not of something violent, at least. That’s worth more than you could have ever imagined.

You wonder what you must have been like in a former life, before WCKD stole your memories or even stole you away from your home. Before the disease of the Cranks. Before the solar flares. When everything was simple and you didn’t feel like you do right now– haunted, terrified, and uncertain of who you’re supposed to be when the world isn’t ending. Maybe you would have been close with Thomas anyway. Maybe you never would have known him at all.

If there is one good thing to come out of this chaos, you have to admit it would be him. Thomas is a bright spark. He stood out in the darkest nights of the Maze, the worst horrors of the Scorch. If there’s one reason you’re still alive, it’s him.

And, if there’s one reason you’re going to become your old self again, or at least grow as close as you can, it’ll be because of Thomas, too. That night, Thomas gathers your old friends from the Glade and announces that they’ll be bringing back a good tradition from your old days before you broke out of the Maze:  bonfire night.

Instantly, your spirits soar. Much like every other Glader, past and present, bonfire nights were the best times you had. Gally manages to cook up a batch of his special brew in record time, Frypan’s already hard at work producing some delicious foods, and crews of people are bringing back piles of wood for your fire.

When the sun sets, the bonfire is lit. You watch as the flames climb up to the sky. Around you, the survivors of the Flare laugh and shout and dance, talking to each other and having fun. You can feel the heat of the fire on your cheeks even despite the cool night, and for what feels like the first time in a very long time indeed, you smile.

Thomas pushes through the crowd to come to a stop by your side. “I haven’t seen that in a while,” he says.

You chuckle quietly. “I haven’t had a whole lot of reasons to smile. Thanks for proving otherwise.”

“Anytime,” Thomas promises. “We made it out, Y/N. We’re alive. We might as well celebrate, right?”

“I know, I just feel bad for celebrating when we’ve lost so many people,” you admit. “It doesn’t feel right that we’re all out here having a good time when we left so many of our friends behind.”

Thomas blows out a low breath through his teeth. “I know how you feel. Shuck, I feel it every day. I don’t think our friends would want us to be moping around all the time, though.”

“Really?” You ask doubtfully.

“Really,” he repeats. “Come on, you know Alby is watching us somewhere, shaking his head with annoyance that he went to the trouble of saving us just so we can waste the chance he gave us. Same with Newt, and Teresa, and the rest. They’d want us to be happy. They wanted that when they were alive, too.”

Your heart twists painfully at the mentions of the friends you’ve lost. “I think so, too. And I’m trying, it’s just hard sometimes.”

“I know,” Thomas tells you. “You’re trying, though. So am I. That’s the important part.”

You look back towards the bonfire. You can see some of the Gladers clustered together. Minho’s telling a dramatic story about something he’d discovered that day; he spreads his arms wide to demonstrate something and they all break out into laughter, even Gally. Maybe Thomas is right. Maybe there’s something here worth smiling about after all.

“Let’s have fun tonight,” you decide.

Thomas puts his arm around your waist, starting to lead you back towards the bonfire, back towards your friends, back towards the life you’d like to keep on living. “Let’s.”

It’ll take a while for the nightmares to stop, for you to avoid flinching whenever someone mentions something that reminds you of the Glade. You’ll never be exactly who you were before you woke up in the Box, but maybe that’s alright. You have a life you never thought you’d have, and best of all, you have a happy ending. You have Thomas. You’re going to be alright.

requested by @hope92100, i hope you enjoy!

tmr tag list: @blondsauduun, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver, @il0vebeingdelulu

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#thomas #thomas imagines #thomas x reader #thomas oneshot #tmr #tmr imagines #tmr x reader #tmr oneshot #the maze runner #the maze runner imagines #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner oneshot #tmr thomas #tmr thomas imagines #tmr thomas x reader #tmr thomas oneshot #the maze runner thomas #the maze runner thomas imagines #the maze runner thomas x reader #the maze runner thomas oneshot

[mono-dot-jpeg]

lost and sick - express crew

summary; being part of the underground meant you lived an unstable life and it was hard to erase.

genre/extra tags; one shot, fluff, angst, teen! reader, no dialogue fic, reader is from jarilo v

word count; 440

[platonic] [teen! reader] [gender neutral! reader]

[warnings; chronic illness, reader does not like being touch and makes it obvious, children experiments, death of parents, mentions of torture (but never talked abt any deeper)]

a/n; you'd think with all the time I've been on genshin (idk how long but too long), i would take the time to learn more of the characters. but to be fair i stopped playing when sumeru first released. i played like a decent chunk of it, then i stopped. uhh, well, hope you enjoy anyways.

being a citizen of the great mine sucked. a lot of it sucked. and a lot of it was traumatizing.

being forcefully tested on, pushed down to your tiny limit as a kid, trying to sway your naive brain that this was fine, and trying to convince you that you would be cured.

if only it was that easy.

if only it didn't take years for someone to find out about the secret circle of fake doctors that were "curing kids" just to get a quick buck out of parents.

your parents were long gone after you got worse. they ran out of money and out of time.

but you were found, broken, lost, and ill. you were taken to natasha immediately.

you told them your origins, albeit not all of it. and you were taken in by a mysterious group, the astral express, trailblazers; they called themselves.

you went wary. extremely so.

they understood. they thought, this young teen is lost without a parent and support, and now they're getting it? they would be wary too. it looked too good to be true after your experiences of torture and anguish.

you kept your distance. well... as much distance as you could when you were ill. some days, you would find yourself with the energy to walk around and care for yourself for most of the day. and other days, you would be bedridden, unable to move as you feel like you were stuck in that damned lab again, numb and unable to fight.

it was.. a struggle.

the crew was extremely patient with you. it was almost embarrassing to you. having them to be so nice to you even if you avoided them as much as possible, it made you feel bad for them. but.. it's not like they knew anything about the labs. they just knew that you were a broken kid needing a home. and they wanted to try and provide that.

maybe it was time to really tell them everything.

and you did.

you told them, the horror you lived through, how your life was ticking faster than others because of it, how you were forced to deal with unwanted shots and lab tests.

they were in shock but they were proud that you had spoken to them about it. and after that you opened up to them a little more.

you started to find a way to embrace your short life with the help of the astral express.

and you don't mind living this short life if you know that you have a family who love you dearly and gave you the home you deserved.

#honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #welt yang x reader #himeko x reader #caelus x reader #stelle x reader #march 7th x reader #dan heng x reader #hsr x reader