#so it does make sense it would finish shooting 'early' but then again it makes me even more worried abt his role lmfao.........

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Let's play a little game | Ethan Landry x Reader

Summary: You get a phone call from a masked ID when you’re home alone…

Word count: 2k

Warnings: smut, fingering, p + v action, ambiguous consent, home invasion, cheating,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You looked at your reflection in the mirror as you brushed your hair, admiring how hot your body looked in those small shorts and cami. The rumors were true, you really looked your best in your early adulthood. You posed, making sure all your curves were in a flattering angle, and sent a picture to your boyfriend. It was a bummer Chad was away in Woodsboro for the weekend when you looked that good.

After exchanging some naughty texts with Chad, you called Tara if she wanted to come over and watch horror movies. The weather had been gloomy and cold all day, which was perfect for the occasion.

‘’If you had called me two hours ago, I would be running over in my pajamas and bringing along my fuzzy blanket, but I may have gotten a call from a certain brunet from my film class and agreed to go on a date…tonight.’’ Tara covered her mouth to stifle her excitement, but you could hear it in her voice.

A smile bloomed on your lips, excited for your friend. ‘’Oh my god! He did?’’

‘’Yes.’’ On the other side of the line, Tara paused, her head full of Tyler. ‘’I’m so nervous. It’s my first date ever.’’

‘’It’ll be okay, T,’’ you reassured her. ‘’And if he turns out to be a jerk, excuse yourself to the bathroom and send me a text. I’ll call you and fake an emergency.’’

Tara promised, then hung up to finish getting ready for her date. She needed to leave before Sam got home and asked a plethora of questions. Maybe she’ll do a full search on Tyler to make sure he’s not a crazy Stab fanatic like her own ex-boyfriend.

You were about to shoot a text to Anika, but your phone rang again. This time, the caller ID was masked.

You answered with a frown.

‘’Hello?’’ a distorted male voice said.

Your frown deepened. ‘’Eh, shouldn’t I be the one saying ‘hello’?’’

‘’Who is this?’’

‘’Who are you trying to reach?’’

‘’I don’t know.’’ There was a short silence, then the man spoke again. ‘’Do you like scary movies?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ You took a body-spray from your vanity desk and spritzed a little on you, smiling when the sweet caramel scent filled the air.

‘’What’s your favorite scary movie?’’

You took a moment to think. ‘’Probably Jennifer’s Body. Does that count? It’s more of a horror comedy, but I’ve watched it a thousand times.’’

The stranger hummed. ‘’The one with the hot chick that eats her best friend’s boyfriend?’’

‘’Yes!’’

‘’Speaking of boyfriend, do you have a boyfriend?’’

‘’Why? You want to ask me out on a date?’’ you joked, fixing the pendant of your necklace that had flipped over.

‘’Maybe.’’

‘’If you want to ask someone out on a date, calling on a masked ID is not the best way. It gives off stalker vibes.’’

‘’I’m not a stalker.’’

‘’How can I know you’re not?’’

‘’If I were a stalker, I would tell you how hard my cock is just from looking at you in those pajamas.’’

You gulped uncomfortably, standing from your vanity chair and going to your window to peer through the curtains to see if anyone was outside. You were on the tenth floor. How would anyone get up there from the outside? It didn’t make sense.

But it was the only window in your bedroom…

‘’I…I’m gonna hang up. I need to take my dog out.’’

It was a lie. You didn’t have a dog, but the stranger on the other end didn’t know that.

‘’Don’t hang up on me!’’ he yelled at you.

You did anyway.

Seconds later, the phone rang again. Fuck.

‘’Why are you calling again?’’ you snapped at the caller, not bothering to check the ID. You knew it was him.

‘’To apologize, of course.’’

‘’Okay. You did. Now bye.’’ You pulled the phone away from your ear, but the man yelled at you.

‘’If you hang up again, I’ll come inside and gut you!’’

The threat was stronger and starting to scare you, but you couldn’t let him know.

‘’You’re bluffing,’’ you said, praying your voice wouldn’t falter. ‘’I’m on a high floor. You can’t get to me.’’

‘’From the outside, no. But who said I’m not already inside.’’

Fear settled in your guts as your phone buzzed with a text message. A picture. Someone in a Ghostface mask standing in your bedroom. He had a knife in his hand and you had a feeling it wasn’t a fake one.

When was this taken? And where was he now?

You searched your vanity for something to use as a weapon. There was a ton of makeup, a few perfume bottles, your hairbrush — all useless. Then your eyes fell on your manicure scissors. You used them a few nights ago to cut a thread from a shirt. They were small but pointy. It could injure your stalker.

Scissors tight in your hand, you stood from your chair and ventured to your living area. It was a very small apartment. The living room and kitchen were merged into the same room and all the lights were off. You turned the main light on, illuminating the whole room, but saw no one.

The curtains were closed. They were tall and thick enough for someone to hide behind.

Putting your fictive big-girl pants on, you walked to the window to check, but jumped and when you heard the distorted voice in your ear.

‘’Let’s play a little game. I say something and you do as I say….or else I’ll use that sharp knife on you. Got it?’’

You gulped and nodded. A part of you wanted to call the cops and signal a home invasion, but if your intruder was already inside, they would never get to you on time. Even at night, New York traffic was a nightmare.

‘’Take those little shorts off. I want to see those lacey panties you have on underneath.’’

You didn’t want to, but you reached for your small dolphin shorts anyway. You weren’t shy with your body, but getting undressed for a stranger to jerk off to you made you stomach churn. Your fingers touched your waistband, about to pull your shorts down, but stopped when you remembered you were not wearing anything under.

‘’I-I'm not wearing any.’’

‘’Don't lie to me. I can see those tiny shorts from here.’’

You looked around the room, trying to figure out where he was hiding. Your bedroom window was already out of the options. Your bed was a box and your closet and the bathroom door were shut. Where the hell was he hiding?

‘’Not the shorts,’’ you corrected. ‘’The panties.’’

‘’Naughty girl.’’

You should be disgusted, but you found yourself blushing — and slightly turned on — at the creepy stranger's words. Was it the Ghostface mask that was suddenly having this effect on you? You did feel a strange liking to the masked killers when you watched horror movies.

‘’Strip.’’

You fumbled to push your dolphin shorts down and out of the way, exposing yourself bare.

‘’Now go back to your room, get on the bed and sit against the pillows.’’

You did as told and leaned back into your pillows, but kept your knees closed. You could sense where this was going. Men loved to watch a girl touch herself. If you look at their internet history, you’ll find a ton of porn videos of women touching themselves.

He tutted you. ‘’Don't try to hide. Spread your legs. I want to see.’’

You knew you shouldn’t part your legs, but your arousal was getting stronger at every instruction. It’s like he had casted a spell on you and you were helpless to disobey him.

God, you should be disgusted with yourself. How could you be turned on by a masked intruder in a Ghostface mask asking you to strip and give him a free view of your intimate parts?

Shutting your subconscious, you parted your legs and exposed yourself, shivering when you felt the cool air of the room.

You heard a groan in your ear. ‘’That’s a beautiful pussy. Show me how wet you are for me.’’

Your free hand slid down your body and to your mound, then lower. You sighed as you reached your folds, spreading them and showing the way your lips glistened with wetness.

‘’Am I wet enough for you, Mr. Ghostface?’’ you asked into the room, sliding your finger up and down your folds a couple of times.

‘’Why don’t you stick a finger inside? Play with yourself for me.’’

A soft moan slipped from your lips as you did, your finger sliding easily. You thrusted in slowly, then out, and repeated. The pace was too slow for your personal liking, but you knew how to tease and turn on a partner. Watching a video of your fingers sinking in and out of yourself, coated with your arousal had made your boyfriend cum in his dorm bed many times.

But let’s not talk about Chad now.

You added a second finger and caught your bottom lip between your teeth when you curled them. You wish you had your pink vibrator for your clit, but your other hand was occupied holding your phone.

‘’Mmh, you’re making me so fucking hard right now.’’

‘’Are you touching yourself to the sight of me, Mr. Ghostface?’’ you asked, bringing your thumb to your clit and rubbing.

A distorted whimper came from the other side of the line. He was.

The sensations from your touches were sending fuzzy tingles from your neck to your dripping pussy, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

‘’Is that all you’re going to do? Are you going to just watch me fuck myself for your own pleasure like a selfish asshole…or are you going to come and fuck me?’’

The line went dead and all the lights went off, sending chills down your spine. You removed your fingers, unsure if this was part of the game or not.

‘’Hello?’’ you called into the darkness of your bedroom. ‘’Is someone there?’’

It was stupid to ask, having seen enough horror movies to know what happens to characters who ask that very question.

The light returned with a static noise and you jumped when seeing a tall Ghostface figure standing at the end of your bed, watching you intently. He pounced on your bed like a lion on his prey, grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you toward him.

A deafening scream left your throat, thinking he was going to kill you. Instead, he parted your thighs and lifted his robe, his pants already down to his thighs and his hard cock out. He wasted no time, thrusting himself between your wet folds and splitting your cunt open as you moaned out loud.

‘’You like being filled with my cock, uh? You unfaithful little whore!’’ the distorted voice said, grabbing your hips and pounding into you. ‘’Getting fucked by someone else while her boyfrined is away in California.’’

Unfortunately, you couldn't deny it. This cock felt fucking amazing.

You pushed all thoughts of Chad to the back of your head. You’ll figure this out later.

Right now, all you wanted to focus on was the man between your legs.

The sounds that rang from your throat were nothing short of obscene, mouth hanging open helplessly while he wrecked your pussy, his cock slick with the evidence of your arousal. You clawed at your sheets, your back arching from the bed from the intense pleasure filling your whole body.

Moans and grunts mixed with wheezings came from underneath the mask. Breathing must not be easy under the rubber mask. You reached out and took it off, gasping in shock when seeing who was underneath.

Ethan?!

You opened your mouth to speak, but he threw your legs over his shoulders and you cried out at the change of angle, not caring that your boyfriend’s roommate was fucking you.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly

#ethan landry #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry smut #scream 6 imagines #scream 6

[heliads]

Enola Holmes x sibling!reader who isn’t as smart as Enola and feels inadequate because of it; and gets hurt on a case and worries Enola?

'my mind isn't yours' - enola holmes

masterlist

To be a Holmes is to be beyond anything or anyone else. No one in your family would ever say this aloud, of course; it didn’t need to be said, and all of your direct blood relations knew better than to say things that weren’t needed. You have your mind for the long, extensive, impractical thoughts, but spoken words are meant to be heard and pondered over for generations. A Holmes does not need to state their supposed victory over their neighbours. It is simply known and celebrated in the glorious expanse of their own private intellect.

Sometimes, though, again in the quiet confines of your mind, you wonder if this divine knowledge skipped a beat when it came to you. You may be a Holmes in blood and legal right, but that doesn’t mean you think like them. Sometimes, it feels a bit like being an outsider in your own family, watching Sherlock and Enola race off on proverbial puzzles while you sit back and try to pick up the pieces they’ve already put together.

You try not to let it get to you, but it’s hard not to feel some sort of inferior. You’re a clever student in your own right, but clever alone does not a Holmes make. You’re supposed to be a genius like your brother or a prodigy like your sister, but instead you just feel like you. Y/N Holmes, not a screwup in any sense but worse than that to some– completely, utterly normal. Base level. Right in the middle of the pack if a little bit above.

To a Holmes, though, mediocrity is a mortal sin. Sherlock and Enola seem leagues out of your reach. Since Enola is closest to you in age, you feel the sharp stab of that comparison with extra burn. She excels even despite the extra burden of being a young woman in this world of yours, but you could never burst the bubble and go shooting far beyond the stars like her.

You’ve never brought up any of this to either Enola or Sherlock, of course, but there’s no reason to do so. You have no doubt that they both realized your inadequacies compared to them far early on. Why comment on something that’s so obvious? Every time you’re working on a case together and they both figure out the twist in the plot ages before you, you can feel that deep cut slice open afresh. You don’t have to be a complete genius, you were never planning on becoming a mastermind academic anyway, but goodness knows you really want to feel like something compared to them.

It aches away, but what can you do? With your mother off doing who knows what, Sherlock and Enola are the closest you have to family. You have your friends, of course, but they don’t understand what it is to be a Holmes, even if you don’t entirely feel like one all the time either. To put it simply, it’s your siblings or nothing sometimes, and goodness knows there’s an awful lot of aching in nothingness even when the only alternative makes you feel terrible about yourself too.

And thus you find a way to sit on the outskirts of the case discussion and puzzle solving sessions anyway. Maybe you can’t always be the first to untangle the riddles, but you can be the first to offer up a cup of tea, and sometimes there’s something they’ve overlooked in their grand hurry to get to the finish line that you can point out and feel useful for along the way. It’s not awful, no, not in the slightest. You just wish it could be a little better as well.

You’re reminded of this little agony whenever they stumble upon a new case, which, as luck would have it, happened recently. Mysterious ransom notes are popping up all over town. Some group of strangers is threatening the top businesses around, demanding cash and gold in exchange for being left alone. No one was really taking the notes seriously until a small bank ignored the messages and had their establishment robbed before being burnt to the ground.

Now, the case has been turned over to the Holmes’ possession. Well, it’s been given to Sherlock and Enola, to be precise. They’ve been kind enough to allow you to join their inner circle while they try to puzzle the whole thing out, but you swear there’s this unspoken agreement that they’ll be the ones finding the solution, not you. It’s not like they’d ever bar you from speaking, they just know that you won’t have anything new to say that they hadn’t already come up with.

You sit silently, watching them go back and forth. Sherlock and Enola get lost in their own world at times like this, forgetting there’s even a country or universe outside of their feverish planning. At the end of an hour’s time, though, they’ve decided that the criminals must be hidden somewhere near an abandoned railway station near the southern end of the city, and that their main modus operandi involves bribing secretaries in each building to anonymously drop off the notes, then clue them into easy ways to get into the businesses without getting caught.

More importantly, this group of thieves has managed to get their hands on a master ring of keys to the city through bribing an overworked and embittered assistant of the chief inspector. So long as these crooks have that key ring, they’ll be able to let themselves into whatever building they please, and the demands will just keep worsening until the entire city has been wrung dry.

An idea is occurring to you. You may not have been able to figure out the clues quite as easily as Sherlock and Enola, but you can still be helpful. While they’re haggling over how exactly to move forward, an idea is already occurring to you. You take after your mother in one important manner:  you are a person of action. When you are given direction, you follow it exactly. And, when you come across a situation in need of a physical solution, you take charge and get the job down. Adrenaline is your best friend, followed quickly by good balance and good coordination. This, at last, is where you can step in.

Sherlock and Enola are too busy with their plotting to notice when you sneak out of Sherlock’s flat and creep into the city. You’ve got an hour or two until nightfall, which means it’s the perfect time to strike. These robbers will have day jobs and places to be. There’s a reason all of the attacks happened at night, it’s because these people had to keep up pretenses until they could break into the businesses under the cover of darkness.

That means you’ll have a very short window of time in which to find their hideout and grab the master key ring before they come back. You don’t doubt that the key ring will be in their foxhole near the abandoned railway station; they can’t exactly risk bringing it back to any of their respective flats and having it found out by the maids or neighbours.

You stealthily make your way over to the abandoned railway station. The sun is setting much faster than you’d like, so much for taking your time to thoroughly scout out the place. Then again, that doesn’t much matter. What’s most important is getting that key ring and getting out, then seeing the looks on Sherlock and Enola’s faces when they realize you’ve saved the day.

It is this thought of victory that propels you into the station house. You stalk down the dusty corridors, checking in rooms and peering in the drawers of desks. Most everything here seems long abandoned, but there’s one room at the far end of the hall that seems most frequently used, at least judging by the smears of fresh mud outside the door. 

After pausing to listen carefully in case of approaching footsteps, you quickly try the doorknob and are surprised to find it opens easily. These guys were so sure of themselves that they didn’t even bother to lock the door. You try a few drawers in the desk in the center of the room, and you grin in silent victory when you find the key ring sitting in one of them, covered halfway by a stack of folders labeled with the names of various buildings in the city.

You grab the key ring and the folders as well, just in case extra evidence is needed. Just as you’re straightening up, though, you hear sounds echoing through the dusty hallways. You panic, quickly closing the desk drawers and heading for the door. You won’t have time to run, though; you can see a silhouette in the corridor, right outside the door.

Instead, you flatten yourself to the wall right next to the door. Moments after you get into position, the door flies open and a man steps inside. Brow furrowed, he calls out a name, likely one of his compatriots.

“Miller? Was that you I heard?”

The second he’s clear of the door, you immediately scurry back outside. You do your best to be quiet, but the man whips around.

“Hey! Get back here!”

You’re not all that inclined to follow instructions, especially when doing so would likely bring great danger onto yourself, so you hurl yourself out into the corridor, dashing down the dusty floor in a mad sprint. The man immediately gives chase. He almost catches up to you by the end of the hallway, but a series of quick turns give you a chance to put more distance between the two of you again.

All that’s left between you and the freedom of the outside air is a wide, rickety staircase. You go up the stairs as quickly as you can. Risking a glance behind you so you can tell how close the man is behind you, your eyes widen when you realize he’s pulled out a knife. You’re almost to the top, so close, but the man lunges at you in an attempt to slow you down and you feel a hot pain as the knife cuts through your sleeve and slices your arm. It’s not a deep cut, or you don’t think so, at least, but it’s the extra incentive you need to push yourself to the top of the staircase and out into the open.

Immediately, you’re greeted with loud shouting. For a moment, you panic, and then you realize it’s the inspector with his men. “You’re alright,” one of them tells you, “Stand aside so we can put the thief under arrest.”

You nod, taking a hasty sidestep so you won’t get in their way. The robber comes up just seconds after you, but upon seeing the police, he immediately starts sprinting down the abandoned railway. The inspector and his men give chase, and you watch them go shouting down into the gloomy distance.

You’re not alone for long. Sherlock comes up to you, shaking his head. “That was an absurd move to pull. Give me the key ring and folders, I’ve got to get this to the inspector as soon as possible.”

You want to protest that you should be the one handing over the evidence since you went to so much trouble to get it, but one firm look from Sherlock reminds you of how much trouble you’re probably in for pulling a stunt like this and you quickly hand over the materials. He starts walking back towards the city proper, trading out his spot by your side with your sister.

Enola. Great. She looks furious. “Just what were you thinking?” She asks incredulously. “That was ridiculously stupid. And look, you’re bleeding. This is awful.”

You frown. “Don’t call me stupid.”

“I’m not calling you stupid, just the idea to break into the robbers’ hideaway,” she clarifies. “I mean, why on Earth would you feel compelled to do this?”

Looking at the tortured expression on her face makes the last of your confidence bleed away. The whole point of retrieving the key ring was so your siblings would finally feel like you might be one of their equals, but now they’re even more convinced of your bad decision-making skills. This was precisely the opposite of what was supposed to happen.

“Well, that’s the thing,” you say desperately. “If I can’t be the smart one, if I can’t be the one making all the clever plans and figuring out the loopholes like you and Sherlock, at least I can be the brave one. At least that’s something right I can do.”

Enola’s face slackens. “What are you talking about?”

You laugh bitterly. “I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now. Come on, you can crack cases and solve puzzles in your sleep but you can’t understand your own sibling? I’m not like you two. I’m not as smart as you and Sherlock, and I hate that.”

Enola shakes her head. “I’ve never thought that in my entire life. We’re both chatterboxes, obviously, but just because you weren’t talking as much as either of us didn’t mean I thought you weren’t as smart. I just assumed you were doing your thinking in your head instead of out loud, which was what I was supposed to be doing, anyway.”

You look at her cautiously. “Really?”

“Really,” she promises. “Y/N, the thought had never so much as occurred to me. I’m so sorry, I wish I had realized you felt this way sooner. You’re my sibling. Of course I hold you in the greatest regards. I mean, I never would have been brave enough to march into the thieves’ hideout like that on my own, not without several hours of planning to make myself better about it. You up and decided it just like that. I was so impressed with the whole affair, only I was so worried about you that I forgot to tell you.”

You smile at her. “I’m glad you think so, Enola.”

“Well, of course I do,” she says exasperatedly. “What else would I think about? Now come on, we’ve got to get that arm of yours bandaged. Maybe I’ll see about getting the paper to put something in about you being a local hero while I’m at it, too. It would be quite deserved.”

You laugh. “That’s more than I was expecting, to be sure. I’ll settle for knowing that you’re proud.”

“That, of course, is already decided,” Enola declares, and starts to lead you back into town. Watching the sun set overhead, you think that this little rescue mission of yours went quite according to plan indeed. Perhaps you’ll have to stage another one fairly soon.

enola tag list: @mayfieldss

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#enola holmes #enola holmes imagines #enola holmes x reader #enola holmes oneshot #platonic enola holmes #enola holmes x sister reader #enola #enola imagines #enola x reader #enola oneshot

[ragingbookdragon]

Even If I Knew, The Day We Met You'd Be The Reason This Heart Breaks, I'd Love You Anyway

It’s a bit cliché to label them fire and ice, but in all reality, it’s true. To Simon’s cold and calculating, she’s hot and impulsive. And Simon’s no fool. A girl like that will send him to an early grave, but God if he isn’t already a dead man walking. It’s a long time before he finally drops his walls enough to let her inside, mostly because she’s always worming in places she shouldn’t be, asking questions she doesn’t need to know the answers to. That degree in psychology really starts to make sense when she needles him with the ones that instead of him glowering at her and snapping back, he falls silent and broods—he doesn’t brood but she swears he does.

She contradicts Simon’s frosty exterior with an inferno of life, and he begins to wonder if maybe he is too afraid of caring that he doesn’t let himself love. Which is why her words are so jarring as they come across his face, a verbal slap that has him reeling harder than any hit he’s ever taken.

“Simon, I can go on a mission by myself. I’m not a child.”

“I’m know. But I still don’t want you to go.”

“Okay, but you’re not my direct superior. So, I’m going.”

“Well, considering the fact that even if you’re a lieutenant commander. you’re in the 141. And if I recall, I am Price’s second in command.”

“You don’t get to control what I do just because you fuck me.”

It startles him, the way she bites that out and he shakes his head, a little disbelieving that she would say that—especially the way she did. “I’m not trying to control you, love,” he stresses. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

And then it happens. Her eyes slant in a way he’s never seen before and he never wants to see again, a frigid sneer crossing her face as she barks an ice-cold laugh. “Keep me safe? You couldn’t even keep your own fucking family safe.”

And that has Simon faltering a step back, throat tightening, heart beating so loud and so hard that it might come out of his chest.

“You fucked around with the wrong people, and you got all of them killed. Your own family. Your own fucking nephew.” Her laughter is dark. “You couldn’t keep anybody safe. What makes you think you can save me, you fucking failure?”

This isn’t his love. This isn’t her. He doesn’t like this version. She’s supposed to be hot; he’s supposed to be cold. She isn’t supposed to be cruel like this. He’s the cruel edged sword, she’s the fiery voice of reason.

Simon doesn’t even remember what they’re fighting about. And frankly, he doesn’t want to remember. But her laughter burns his ears, aches something in his body, he reaches for her, world suddenly tumbling in on itself and her cruelty is the last thing he hears.

He shoots up, heart hammering in his chest, throat tight as he sucks in a deep breath, sweat running down his temples and in a sheen on his chest. Simon takes a moment to assess that he’s in his room, he’s had a nightmare—a fucking nightmare of his girlfriend. His eyes draw down to his side and before he can even curse, her eyes are fluttering open, a sleepy-haze in them and he knows before she even says it.

“You okay?”

“‘m fine,” he mutters, reaching up to wipe his forehead. “Just hot.”

She stares at him, the sleep beginning to clear as she retorts, “It’s sixty-five in here and you’re covered in a sheet.” Her hand comes up to rub the sleep from her eyes and he grunts at her. “Just hot my ass.”

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Simon doesn’t fight when she sits up beside him and leans into his arm. “Bad dream?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna—”

“No.”

She pouts. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“Because I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Her gaze is sharp, and he sees the inferno he loves building in them but uncharacteristically, she ceases needling and lays back down, and Simon thinks for a moment he’s in the clear before she grabs the back of his hair and yanks hard enough that he knows a smirk is on her face when he bites back that certain grunt low in his throat. He falls back, rolling onto her, head on her chest.

Her hands are cool from the temperature of the room, but he feels relief as she rubs his back and soothes everything away.

“You know I’m always here, Si.”

“Mhm.”

“I know you don’t like to talk about things that haunt your dreams but I’m always open to listen—without doctoring you to death.”

“I know.”

“Simon, I know I’m not everything I could be for you, but I love you, and I’ll follow you till the end. I’m in for the long ride.”

Simon looks up at her, a lifetime of exhaustion in his gaze, but a softness in the gruff of his voice as he admits, “Love, you’re the best thing I got.” She blinks and he lets out a long, deep sigh, repeating more to himself, “You’re the best I’ve got.”

Her hands become softer than he’s ever felt, and she brushes her fingers over his face, all had jaw and cheekbones. “Go back to sleep, Si,” she murmurs, her voice a halo of protection over him and their bed. “I’ll guard your dreams for you.”

#simon riley x reader imagine #simon riley x reader imagines #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley imagines #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader imagine #simon ghost riley x reader imagines #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagines #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader imagine #ghost x reader imagines #ghost x reader #ghost imagines #ghost imagine #ghosr #cod imagines #cod imagine #mw2 imagines #mw2 imagine

[mikhailwrites]

Remotely Possible / Ghost x Soap

Short fic inspired by a recent Patreon art from Umikochan where Soap gets to have a sort of remote control for Ghost (you can guess where this is going). It's a stub, might or might not add a second chapter eventually.

Ghost's face is unreadable, a deceptively blank canvas adorned with scars, thin lips, blond eyebrows, and surprisingly cold brown eyes. His voice rumbles low and gravelly as he firmly dismisses Soap's idea with an emphatic "Absolutely not" before returning to the stack of documents that must be done by tomorrow morning.

Soap isn't so easily discouraged. Persistence has served him well in the past, particularly with Ghost. Moreover, he is reasonably sure Ghost is actually intrigued.. The only thing holding the Lieutenant back is discipline and, well... common sense. Johnny slips in behind Ghost, placing both hands on his broad shoulders as he leans in close. "'Fraid ye wouldn't last, LT?"

"You're not going to taunt me into it, Johnny," Ghost replies, attempting to ignore him. The tension in his muscles under Johnny's touch tells a different story.

Soap's hands move lower, sneaking around Ghost's neck in an intimate embrace. "Fine. How about a trade, then?"

Ghost hums, contemplating the offer. "Depends."

Soap thinks it over. It won't come cheap, so the only question is, how badly does he want this?

"An eye for an eye. You let me do this, and I'll let you do the same," Soap finally proposes.

"Deal," Ghost's agreement comes quickly enough to make Soap wonder if he's just made a mistake. Not that he can back out now. Even if his pride would allow it (unlikely), Ghost wouldn't.

It's early, too early for Soap's liking. He yawns openly, not bothering to stifle it. Price shoots him a disapproving look, and Gaz mirrors the same disapproval as he himself yawns and remarks, "Can't you control yourself? It's contagious." Soap shrugs, taking a sip of the mediocre coffee. His other hand discreetly slips into his pocket, searching for the button on a small remote. The moment he presses it, Ghost, who had been utterly motionless until now, jerks as if something had bitten him.

Every pair of eyes in the room instantly fixate on him, but Ghost simply shifts in his chair, appearing as detached from the rest of the room as ever. The briefing isn't all that important, certainly not enough to justify a morning meeting this early. Usually, Soap would complain about it, but today, he has a remote control for Ghost in his pocket. Well, sort of, and only for a single day, but he plans to make the most of it.

Price continues to brief them about the layout and potential hotspots in Al Mazrah. Soap already knows all of it, as does Gaz, and Ghost has been deployed there too many times not to be intimately familiar with the place. The only ones who genuinely need this briefing are the Marines, about half a dozen squeezing around the table. They'd be much more comfortable if they were willing to sit closer to Ghost.

Soap discreetly taps the control in his pocket once more. Above the button is a slider. Carefully, he nudges it up a notch. Ghost shifts once more, clearing his throat to mask a sound that's less innocent, perhaps. The corner of Soap's mouth twitches. He's feeling powerful and smug. He's also turned on.

Price raises an eyebrow, glancing up from the map on the table. "Do you have anything to add, Ghost?"

"The airport. It's obviously the best spot for exfil," Ghost begins, even though Soap is quite sure he hadn't planned on saying anything. The slider goes up again. Ghost stills, his gasp audible even through the balaclava. However, he manages to collect himself enough to finish the sentence at least. It's impressive, really. "The enemy would expect it. We should use the quarry instead."

"Yes, I was just getting to that, Lieutenant. Are you feeling alright?" Price frowns, clearly running through a hundred scenarios in his mind to explain what's happening. Soap would be willing to bet that none of them would involve Ghost having a remotely controlled plug up his arse.

Ghost's reply is clipped, his voice slightly strained. "Solid, sir."

Soap can barely contain his grin. This is an absolute treat.

His amusement is rudely interrupted as he feels a hand gripping his forearm. "What the hell is going on?" Gaz whispers into his ear. Soap carefully takes the control out of his pocket and opens his palm under the table for Gaz to see. It takes all of two seconds before the puzzled look shifts into one of utter shock and soon after into a full-blown smirk. "You've got to be kidding, mate." Soap doesn't respond, not in words, anyway. Instead, he pushes the slider another two notches up.

Both Sergeants watch as Ghost grips the edge of the table while his other hand discreetly moves between his legs. "Can't believe he'd let you do that, absolute madman!" Gaz whispers, unfortunately not quietly enough.

"You, too, have something to add, Sergeant Garrick?" the tone is sharp. Their Captain has apparently had enough of interruptions.

"No, sir. Sorry, sir!" Gaz straightens up, doing his best to appear apologetic.

The debriefing wraps up, and the Marines stick around to go over the maps a bit longer. Ghost slips out like a shadow, making a quick exit without raising any suspicion. Gaz struggles to stifle a chuckle, while Soap does his utmost to look utterly bored as he rises from his seat and trails after his Lieutenant.

Unfortunately for him, Ghost is just too damn good at what he does. As Soap passes by a door marked as a storage room, it swings open, and he can't help but let out a startled yelp as he's forcefully dragged inside. Instincts honed by rigorous training kick in, prompting Soap to try and elbow the assailant, but his efforts are met with rough resistance. The resulting hollow thud echoes through the cramped space as Soap's back hits the wall. A strong forearm presses against his neck, and Soap realises it's best to give up any struggle. Simultaneously, he identifies the threat.

Well, perhaps this whole scheme wasn't such a grand idea after all.

“You smug little shit,” Ghost growls, his voice low and dangerous. He sounds breathless. Soap, somewhat belatedly, also realises that Simon is pressed up against him way more than necessary. The outline of Ghost's hard prick he feels against his thigh is a welcomed bonus. Soap was never quite right in his head, so he takes advantage of Simon’s distraction to subtly touch the controller through the fabric of his pants. He has no way of knowing which way is up, and he’s much less precise. He has no idea what’s going to happen.

Simon shudders against him, dropping his forearm from Soap’s throat as his head falls into the junction between Johnny’s neck and shoulder. He moans into Soap’s tee as he grinds against his thigh. Soap smiles, deeming the situation safe enough to hold Simon close. He also adjusts his leg to provide better friction.

Ghost’s breath is hot and moist against Soap’s neck; the edges of the skull mask scrape him a bit, but he doesn’t mind. The only thing on his mind now is how much he wants to find out if Simon can come like this.

Simon’s movements quicken. Soap’s had his fair share of uncomfortable boners in jeans, and with the force Ghost is putting into it, it must be borderline painful. There’s no stopping Simon, though, and Soap doesn’t even try.

Simon’s grip on Johnny tightens to the point of bruising. Soap doesn’t as much as wince; his full attention is on Ghost and the way his hips stutter and his breath comes in ragged gasps. Johnny knows Simon well enough to sense how close he is. The way his body tenses and he grows quieter as every ounce of his consciousness turns inward, entirely focused on that one last thread holding him back from completely breaking.

The moment the thread snaps, Ghost stops breathing. He thrusts a few times before going completely limp in Soap’s arms. Johnny might be a bit of a bastard, but he’s not cruel, so he fishes the remote out of his pocket and turns it off. Simon lets out a long, shuddering breath.

They stand there for a few minutes. Ghost is boneless, resting his full weight against Johnny.

“Bloody hell,” Ghost mumbles quietly. Johnny only hears him because he’s so close. It doesn’t sound pissed, so Soap dares to hope he’ll live to fight another day. Ghost peels himself off Soap and does his best to make himself look at least decent enough to make a short trip to the barracks and his room. “Are you going to come with me to collect the damn thing?”

“What do you mean? It’s still early in the morning; we’ve got a whole day ahead of us, LT,” Soap offers him his sweetest smile. “That was the deal, remember? A day.” The way Ghost’s eyes widen triggers something in Soap. Something a little bit wicked. “Unless you want to call it off?”

He can see the moment Ghost commits to it, his shoulders squaring and his hands flexing at his sides. “Not a chance, Johnny.” He leans in, his voice quiet and measured. “I’m looking forward to your end of the deal. Gonna make you scream, sweetheart.”

Coming from Ghost, the pet name sounds more like a threat than an endearment. And Johnny would be lying if he said he doesn’t like it.

#call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #soap mw2 #ghoap

[obsidiancreates]

Catching Up (With No Murders This Time!)

(I just wanted Shawn and Abigail to like, see each other again and get a little closure since they broke up under such horrible circumstances.)

"Hey, sweetheart. I just wrapped up a case and I just so happen to be next to that awesome bakery you love, do you want- sweet! Uh, no, no Gus with me, your croissant will make it to you with no bites taken out of it. ... No, I'll buy my own so I'm not tempted either. Yeah, well, Selene called and told him Charlie is running a fever so he sped off before I even finished the wrap-up. Oh, gotta go, someone is about to try and get the last Nutella-filled one."

Shawn hangs up and rushes up to the counter as the person who's eyes were lingering on the Nutella-filled croissant is about to order. "You know, I am amazed you guys still make these, because I heard that hazelnuts and chocolate combined can give you hair loss."

The woman freezes, and Shawn almost does a little celebratory shimmy- until she turns around.

Shawn's mouth parts in shock. "Abigail?"

"Shawn?" Abigail blinks. "Are you really..." She leans in and whispers, "Why are you in San Fransisco?"

"I- I uh, moved here. A few years ago with- uh, well with my wife." He holds up his hand. Please don't let this be awkward, please don't let this be-

Abigail holds up her hand, showing off her own wedding ring. "We match."

A tension Shawn hadn't realized he was holding bleeds out of him. "Look at that!" He grins at her. "Who knew us crazy kids would ever find that, huh?"

"Who knew. ... Oh, you um, wanted the Nutella."

"Yeah, if- it's Jules's favorite so I just-"

"Jules? The detective you worked with? ... Actually, that makes sense."

"... Is that a... bad, 'that makes sense'?"

"No, just... it makes sense. Here, uh, I'll have the regular chocolate instead. My husband is allergic to hazelnuts anyway, I'd have to brush my teeth before kissing him, it's... a whole thing."

They order, and sit together while waiting for the coffees.

"So, um... how long have you been married?" Abigail asks before taking a bite of her pastry.

"Let me see, uh... six years, now? ... Holy crap, I've been married for six years. ... What uh, what about you?"

"Four. We met through the program I do, for teaching abroad."

"Ha, that's cool. I'm a detective, I married a detective, you're a teacher, you married a teacher... fits, it-it fits good."

"Yup."

"... Sorry about uh... all the stuff I put you through, back then. Taking you to crime scenes and client's houses was a little-"

"Stupid?"

"I was going to say offbeat, but... stupid works too." They both give a small laugh. Shawn awkwardly picks at his own pastry, Jules's sitting in his lap. There's a beat of silence that's just agonizing.

"How's Gus?" Abigail looks up at Shawn again. "I mean, I just assume you're both still doing the psychic detective thing."

"Oh, Gus is great. He uh, he got married too, about four years ago now, just before the whole uh... pandemic, thing. She's basically a clone of him, but a woman, and they've got a kid."

"Let me guess. You're the godfather."

"Which still freaks me out, by the way. He's a great kid though. Smart and awesome, just like his dad, and it looks like he got The Super Sniffer too. Gus says it's too early to tell, but-" Shawn puts a finger by his temple. The movement feels weird. He hasn't really leaned into the whole "psychic" thing for a few years now, and when he does he usually use the finger-to-eyebrow device anymore. When was the last time he did? ... Dear god, it's been ten years. Ten years since he moved out of Santa Barbara.

"Time really flies," he finds himself saying."

"Tell me about it." Abigail shakes her head. "My husband and I adopted, about two years ago now, and she's just... shooting right up. When she started walking I couldn't believe it."

"Gus couldn't either. I think he showed me the video about a billion times."

"Crying?"

"Absolutely weeping, yes."

"Nice to know some people never really change."

"Mmmm, I wouldn't say that. He's done some pretty badass stuff since you last met him."

"You do know that seems... a little far-fetched."

"More far-fetched than the time we had to prove a polar bear was framed for murder?"

"... I'm not sure if I believe you about that."

"If we had time, I could condense each little weekly adventure into about a forty-three minute story each."

"That's not very condensed."

"... You're right, it's not." Shawn nods, and looks up as the bell on the door jingles- he hears Abigail laugh a little about it and mumble that yeah, people don't really change.

The man at the door spots Abigail and grins. Shawn hones in on a wedding ring, a tie with Abigail's favorite flowers as the design, and hair that just may rival Shawn's own.

"Hey, honey." The man sweeps right over to Abigail and leans down to kiss her in her chair. "Finally sorted out the issue with our plane, we should be on our way day after tomorrow."

"Oh, thank god," Abigail groans, holding her husband's hand as he pulls over another chair to sit next to her. "I'm so tired of hotel food."

"You and me both," her husband chuckles. He looks at Shawn. "Who's this?"

"Oh, um, this is Shawn Spencer."

"Ooooh, you're the guy who took her to a crime scene as a date one time."

"Guilty," Shawn says with a laugh.

"Nice to meet you, I've heard a lot about you. Good things!"

"And some not-so-good things, I'm guessing?"

"No, no. ... Not about you as a person, anyway. Plenty of bad things about your job."

"Yeah, I figured. ... Oh, there's our coffees." Shawn takes his paper tray with 4 coffees (Gus and Selene will need them) and stands up. "Well, this was totally unexpected, but I'm glad it happened. It was nice seeing you again, Abigail."

"Nice seeing you too, Shawn." She smiles at him. "I'm glad you're doing well."

"Me too. Doing well is pretty great. Oh, and, glad for you, I guess."

Abigail laughs again. "Bye, Shawn.

"Bye, Abigail."

He walks out of the bakery, the sound of Abigail chatting with her husband following him until the door closes. She sounds happy. Happy and relaxed in a way that even on their best days, she never was with him. And he's glad.

He's just genuinely happy for her. That's a really, really nice feeling. No jealousy, no feeling of missed chances, no wondering of 'what-ifs'. Just... actual, authentic happiness that she's doing well.

He tucks Jules's croissant into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

"... Hey, babe! Yeah, got the last Nutella for you, and a coffee. ... Yup, that perp was our case. Really? Described being caught by 'some kind of ninjas or something?' Well, babe, as much as I'd love to tell you I've secretly been a martial arts master our whole marriage, you can put in your report that he's absolutely lying because he's very embarrassed. Truth is Gus accidentally knocked over some marble statue onto him while he was chasing me through the art exhibit. ... Can I fill out the statement later tonight? I got coffee for Gus and Selene too. Awesome! I will hang around to tell you who I just ran into, though. Of course I'm neglecting paperwork in favor of personal matters, if I ever don't then your husband has been replaced by a pod person. Okay, love you, I'll be there as soon as I find a ride..."

#psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

[shoot-the-oneshot]

Just a jacket

requested by @vampireatemycats​ 32 "you need to work on your people skills," 42 "is that mine?' "are you refurring to me or the shirt?" Derek hale x reader A/N i know this one is a little short i just wanted to get it out quick the others will be longer but i hope you like it

He doesn't know when it started but Derek found himself not dreading the pack meetings in his loft once a week as Scott demanded be hosted there since Derek was the alpha, don't get it wrong he still hated the uncontrolled teenage hormones stenching up his home or how Stiles would bring over all the pieces of his wall of crazy and spread it across every inch available. but he always found it worth it when she'd walk in suddenly her scent stuck to everything she touched and the dusty old police files seemed like the most interesting thing when the contents fell from her lips as she read aloud. that's why he's leaning against the island watching the door like a hawk.

you were late, you were never late you always came early to help him set out snacks which he only had because they were your favorite not that he'd ever admit it. "Hey!" Stiles yelped when Derek reached out and yanked his arm. "Where's Yn?' "What!" rolling his eyes at the spazz he readly doent know how you deal with him, "Y/n isn't here where. is. she.?" he sighed out trying again making Stiles bristle up, he sensed Dereks' weird obsession over you no matter how many times Lydia and Alison say it's a normal crush he refuses to see it like that. No way sourwolf could have normal emotions, nope. "Why do you care? matter of fact while we are asking where things are where is the food? drinks? little dog treats you nibble on at night?" Lydia could see the older wolf getting irritated at the game Stiles was playing and decided to break it up. "She has dinner plans tonight in town." no longer than it took her to finish her sentence he was already out the door, the strawberry blonde smiled pulling her phone out to warn you, she was definitely your biggest shipper. in the center of downtown becon hills, you were sat at your favorite diner books laid open across the table being ignored as you laughed at some joke the young deputy told you the smile on his face slowly fell as he locked eyes on something behind you. before you could ask what was wrong two hands landed with a heavy thud on the table as Derek glared at Parrish, "Don't you have better things to do?" at the flash of Dereks eyes, Parrish just sighed and gathered his things. not without saying goodbye to you drawing out a low growl that only the two supernatural could hear. once he's out the door Derek drops into the empty chair and flipped through one of the books set out like nothing happened. raising your eyebrow at him gaining nothing but a shrug, "That was rude." "So is being late." he rebuttled, shooting you a look before going back the the book which you know he wasnt actully reading seeing as it was upside down. 'For the record, I texted Stiles and Scott that i was busy tonight," for some reason wanting him to know you didn't just ditch. "Next time text me." he hummed, meeting your eyes, a smirk pulled up of his face as he sat the book down and leaned in, eyes shooting to the jacket draped over the back of your chair. "Does your little sherrif know you brought my jacket on your date?" crap, he gave it to you weeks ago after a pack meeting and it was too cold outside you had almost forgotten it was his only the occasional whiff of his cologne reminding you but still hadn't stopped you from practically taking ownership of it, not that he needs to know you were nervous and it brought you comfort, the jacket, not Derek. "It wasn't a date and he's a deputy." you didn't notice your foot tapping under the table or the fact he could literally hear your heartbeat but you didn't want to give in that easily. Derek who was still leaned in sat back in his chair smiling not caring you defended the deputy one bit and nodded his head back at the leather jacket. "You didn't answer the question, is. that. mine?'' his tone slowed as it did in the loft but had a completely different meaning with you. the look in his eye gave you some unexpected confidence. you and Derek have always been close ever since Scott got bitten he never got irritated at you or withheld information and you were normally the middle man because of it. while you both knew you had feelings for each other and could often be found stuck to the other side or cuddling on his couch during a full moon when he was too afraid to leave you alone claiming you were safer there, regardless you had never crossed that line but the feeling tonight had you toeing that line. mimicking his previous position. "Are you refuring to me or the jacket?" You didn’t bother to hide the teasing tone your voice took sinking your teeth into your bottom lip when his eyes flash down to them. You knew you were being blunt but you were tired of waiting for him to make a move which came to a shock to your table companion but wasn’t objecting. Dereks smirk changed to a real smile as he met your eyes and took a breath as if preparing himself to speak the words aloud or preparing for what could be your reaction to them. But with the signs you’d given tonight, he felt more confident than he normally would around you. “The jacket.” He words or lack there off made your shoulders drop in defeat. Maybe Lydia was wrong maybe you were wrong. To far in your head you didn’t notice Derek lean forward in the table again, close enough to feel his breath fanning over your nose and lips. “I already know you’re mine.” Pulling away leaving you in your haze he stood, grabbing the jacket from your chair you thought he was carrying it for you until he took the one he was wearing off and held it open waiting for you to slide your arms through. Not fully understand why until you obliged the cologne and a scent that is solely Derek engulfed you. Laughing under your breath which you knew he heard. “Did you give me this because it smells more like you?” Derek didn’t even look ashamed for being so transparent, slinging his arm over your shoulder and pulling you further into his side. Loving the fact he could smell himself on you knowing that if he could so could every other supernatural in town.      “Have you make sure everyone knows who you belong to"

#teen wolf imagine #derek hale imagine #derek hale x reader #derek hale x you #teen wolf x reader

[sarahrogersevans]

Hey bubs! I had another idea if it’s okay? If not don’t worry :)

Chris x reader, she’s anaemic so her body is lacking in iron and they’ve been on set all day, and she’s been saying she feels really cold, faint and just tired but she plays it off as just having to be up early on set so she toughs it out and puts her glasses on to help with the dizziness. Chris is worried about her because he knows her body can just overwhelm itself and shut down which is the reason she faints. And unfortunately that happens and Chris has to get iron back into her so he gets her some orange juice and some dried mango (I would say nuts but let’s just say for this she’s allergic) after she’s finally back, it takes a minute and she does faint again so Chris is just calm as he can be but panicking on the inside and just comforting reader because she feels guilty about having to deal with this then when she can’t others have to for her. So it’s just fluff and chris helping reader and going at her pace so she doesn’t overwhelm more than she already has :)

I hope this makes sense ❤️

Only Do What You Can Handle- Chris Evans POV xreader fan fic request

Summary: Reader is anemic and is working on the set of Red One with Chris Evans her co Star and faints while filming and Chris helps reader get better & takes care of reader

Warnings: mentions of fainting, angst, fluff, mentions of being anemic, soft Chris, mentions of feeling exhausted and cold, comfort fluff, let me know if I miss anything

I was working Red One with Y/N my co Star & after a few shoots Y/N was starting to look a bit pale and tired and I walked over to see her reading her lines practicing and I stood by the wall and said “hey Y/N you doing ok there?” She looked over at me and said “oh hey Chris, yea I’m just tired why?” I was really worried about her and said “you look a bit pale do you need a break? We can finish this part later if you need to rest.” Y/N shook her head and said “nah I’m alright but I really appreciate you checking on me let’s do this.” I nodded and we went back to filming.

A little while later Y/N was about to grab us water bottles & then fainted. I freaked out and ran over and knelt down and said “oh my god Y/N doll hey come on easy.” I got her some water and had her sit up and drink it. Y/N put her arms around her and said “hey I’m a bit cold.. can I have my sweater?” I looked behind me and noticed her blue sweater on the chair and I handed it to her with a sad smile and said “here you go sweetheart.” She put it on carefully while I helped her and she smiled shyly and said “thank you Chris, I really appreciate you helping me I’m umm.. I’m sorry you had to see me like this.”

I helped her up carefully and said “hey no don’t apologize all I care about is that you’re ok and not injured.” Y/N smiled and gave me a hug and said “I’m ok now Chris or at least I think so.” I smiled and said “ok Y/N just let me know if you need anything, is there anything that causes you to faint?” She thought for a minute and I could tell she was nervous about telling me. I walked closer to Y/N and before I could say anything could happen we were called back to work. I looked back at her and said “we’ll continue this later doll.”

Y/N and I decided to go over a few scenes we wanted to re do because we goofed around too much & then all of a sudden Y/N wanted to sit down because she said she felt dizzy and then fainted again. I yelled “ok cut guys hang on!” Y/N tried sitting up after a few minutes and said “I feel so weak.. I guess I’m really low on iron.” I gave her a sad sympathetic smile and said “what do you need darling?? Just tell me and I’ll get it for you.” Y/N drank some water and took a deep breath and said “could you possibly get me some orange juice and dried apricots?? Those have iron in them that’ll get me going.” I smiled and said “orange juice and dried apricots you got doll just sit still ok? Don’t move. I’m gonna have someone check you for a concussion when we leave ok? Be back in a minute.” Y/N blushed and said “alright thank you so much Chris you helping me means a lot.”

I ran to the food table to get Y/N some orange juice and a bag of dried apricots and I also grabbed her a muffin cause why not she likes muffins.” I ran back over and sat down by her and said “ok, here is the juice, the dried fruit and a muffin because I remembered you like them.” Y/N hugged me suddenly and said “thank you Chris, that is so sweet! I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you I was anemic.. I just thought I could handle everything and not have it be a big deal.” I put my hand on hers and said “Y/N only do what you can handle ok? You really worried me.. I was scared something was really wrong.”

Y/N finished eating the snacks I got her and she sat closer to me hugging me and said “I promise you Chris, I’ll cut back and not over work myself I’m really sorry I worried you, I’m ok now I promise you, now that I got some iron in my system I’m good now.” I smiled and hugged her closer and said “good I’m glad sweetheart but we’re still having you checked for a concussion ok?” Y/N nodded and said “deal thank you for everything.” I got out of the hug and looked at her smiling and said “hey I care about you a lot Y/N I just want to make sure that you’re ok.”

Hey lovey!! Hope you enjoy it xx♥️♥️

@jessybarnes

@fluffycutecevans

@nana1000night

@writersblog20

@vrittivsanghavi

@marvelstarker-mha98

@delicatecoffeepeanut

#chris evans #fluff #fanfics #chris evans fluff #chris evans x fem! reader #chris evans fan fic #chris evans angst #chris evans x reader #chris evans blurb #chris evans one shot #chrisevansdaughter #chrisevansedit #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagines #chris evans comfort fic #chris evans drabble #chris evans fandom #red one

[sleepsonfutons]

20 questions for fic writers!

Ope it's double tag time >:D thanks @spockandthings & @bazzybelle for the tags~

This one's got length to it so get the scoop under the cut lol

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Shoot, how many do I have... let's see now... ooooh, that'd be 18!!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Eyyyy 104,261 since I started posting last year :3

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Sandman and The Witcher, though mostly Sandman so far lol

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

hmmmm, those would be...

In Awe, I Stand -> 370 kudos

Dream of the Dark -> 226 kudos

My Comfort. Your Touch. -> 216 kudos

Every Inch of Me -> 161 kudos

Starlight, Star-Bright -> 139 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do my best to, yes indeed! That doesn't always means it happens though cuz life and energy and honestly attention-span...but I read every single comment I get and cherish them. They are bright spots in my day and I like to share the joy I've been gifted with the person who gave it when I'm able 💖

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ohoho that's gotta be Don't Ask Me To Say Goodbye!! I have Plans for that AU, but as it currently stands it's angst-central with only heartbreak~

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics have happy endings I wanna say, but happiest has got to be a toss-up between Starlight, Star-Bright and My Comfort. Your Touch. They're both super soft, self-indulgent delights :3

8. Do you get hate on fics?

*knocks on wood* nah

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do [hellmo.gif] How do you feel about potatoes? (but also like relatively "normal" stuff: butt stuff, mouth stuff, touching stuff, eldritch stuff, basically a variety of different stuff >;3 LOL)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not so far, though I'd not be opposed to writing one.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

*knocks on wood again* not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope, but open invite to anyone who might want to! Just give me a shout when you're done cuz I'd love to see~

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

HECK YE!!!! @phinofthestorm is outstanding and I literally can't say enough nice things about writing with her! The amount of time we've spent on the same brainwave with our collab fic As a Stranger I Know Myself has been mindblowing and fantastic!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Honestly, I'll never get over GrimmIchi (Bleach) I don't think lol. The nostalgia factor is unbeatable at this point.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Truss Me Up But Never Leave Me Hanging probably fits the bill best, much to my chagrin. It was meant to be a canon-verse Dreamling shibari fic, but *vague handwaving* I wound up getting in my head over whether I could write it to the level of accuracy/quality I feel it deserves

16. What are your writing strengths?

Setting the scene? aka "purple prose" and metaphors

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Concise, "non-flowery" writing in general and dialogue

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I mean if it makes sense, idk why not. Only caveat to that is if it's not a language you speak yourself, definitely get someone who does speak that language to proof it!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Witcher with the bday fic I wrote for my bestie: Where You Least Expect It

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Dang, twist my arm why don't'cha... Sheesh favorite fic I've written... I love 'em all honestly, but I reckon Along the Garden Path, We Meet. It's just a short little thing though Dream being a lil shit to Hob early on, before even their first centennial meeting in 1489, absolutely sends me every time.

Woooo we made it to the end! Now to torment tag to join the fun with 0-whole pressure @seiya-starsniper @phinofthestorm @mentallyinvernation @certifiedbisexualdisaster @blueberrymffn @gabessquishytum @delta-pavonis @aquabluejay

#tag game #20 questions #sof gets tagged #sof answers

[restlesshush]

I think I’m going to further expand on these tags of mine re Jack and the concept of family, because it is just a fundamental concept to making sense of Jack, and I’ve finished the show now so I can.

Basically, “family” as conceived of in terms of a group of people who care about each other, support each other etc and crucially, feel obligations to do those things is just a useless concept to apply to jack. Where would he have got it from, y’know? Of people who initially take him in, one wants to kill him, and one is being kind to him, but is also focussed on getting him to use his powers, and is advocating being being useful as a way to stop the other one from wanting to kill him. Like, when he calls them his family in 13x23, he’s barely had any positive interactions with Dean at all, and in fact their most recent interaction was Dean shooting him and calling him “psycho”, after which he gets incredibly distressed. It should be pretty clear from all this that you can’t treat his use of the word “family” as saying anything particularly meaningful about his relationships with Sam and Dean. Like, the situation does get better in s14, but that’s just people treating him better, and they fundamentally are still the same people who treated him the way they treated him in s13 – that past stuff still doesn’t disqualify them from the designation “family” for him.

And then it’s not just that taking “family” at face value as used by Jack is misleading, it’s also incredibly informative to know that you can’t. Like, because he has no reason to think anyone has any obligations towards him / his well-being, it’s not something he thinks! This is part of why he just does not realise he’s been mistreated – because he doesn’t realise that it’s possible to mistreat him. Obviously his self worth issues and belief/fear that he’s inherently evil play into this too, but like, however cruel someone within his ~family~ is to him, they can’t be falling short of anything in his mind, because there’s nothing for them to fall short of. In early s13 Sam and Dean’s treatment of him does rankle him, but once he’s designated them family and rationalised all that as okay, he does just become a mistreatment sponge. Like the idea of better treatment as something he could be entitled to just flat out doesn’t occur to him, because there’s no reason for it to. His notion of “family” doesn’t feature the idea of him being someone who’s owed care and respect.

Season 15 is obviously where this is most apparent, given Sam and Dean tried to lock him in a box forever and then Dean nearly killed him but he’s still desperately seeking their forgiveness for accidentally killing Mary, and trying to die to this end. He never shows any indication of thinking that they could/should be being kinder to him, which is again, because there’s no way for it to occur to him to think he might be owed that. He has no points of reference for it! Any expectations he has of people’s behaviour towards him are only factual: he can be upset when they turn out not to be true, but not indignant, because there’s no unspoken contract that’s being broken.

Given family terminology is used a lot by/around Jack in the show, it is really important to have a solid grasp of what’s going on with it. There are points (mostly early to mid s14) where the show does want you to view tfw 2.0 as a family with a bunch of positive connotations, so it’s understandable to be deceived by this into thinking Jack’s conception of family aligns with a more generally held one about care and obligation, but the thing is it really really doesn’t! And that is absolutely central to understanding him and his relationships with the rest of tfw.

#spn meta #jack kline #spn s13 #spn s14 #spn s15 #spn 13x23 #usertabitha #spn #worded thoughts

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic. // a raw wound

she now looked like what she was.

masterlist | gallery | taglist

WARNINGS: none specific but uhh drinking! god bless

SUMMARY: daisy wastes little time in dedicating herself to her new position and responsibilities — but that doesn’t mean it’s the only thing on her mind.

TAGLIST: @liebgotts-lovergirl , @softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs , @monalisastwin

Familiarity does little to comfort her, but a little is still something.

Ginny comes back on Sunday. After that, Daisy receives an itemized list of names, the third squadron of twenty-three nurses, all of which would defer to her. And she’s grateful to recognize Carolyn Foster and Laura F. Rogers among them. She immediately catches Jane’s name too — but chooses not to remark on it. Of course, on the surface level she recognizes nearly every name, the Browns and the Palmers, the Campbells and the Gilmores. She’d been working with these women for several months now, some since Normandy; how could she not? But on a more intimate level, she really didn’t know all of them that well.

And it’s one of the first things she has to amend.

She tries to look at it through a clinical lens; knowing what jobs to give who, their strengths and their weaknesses. Evelyn Butler is called Evie by the women who know her, and Daisy makes a habit of calling her that from time-to-time. She’s level-headed and pragmatic in a way that reminds her of Catherine — and strong like Catherine too. There’s Marion Laurent who as her name might suggest is well acquainted with the French language — it rolls off her tongue effortlessly. June Liebmann and Vivian Kelly, joined at the hip, she thinks they might even be able to finish each other’s sentences.

So she’ll default to Marion when her minimal French can’t get her through conversation, and if she can help it, Vivian and June will work together if it’s a two-man job that needs dealing with, like carrying stretchers, and Evie’s strong enough to carry heavier loads of supplies, which will make the work go by quicker.

And she familiarizes herself with a few more of the medics in Mourmelon, because it really can’t hurt even if she could be called away to some other regiment at any point. Not all of them look at it through the lens of logic and reason, but she’s learned that even soldiers could be opportunists. Couples being married within the week had become increasingly normal. Being hit on by some of the men was just another part of the job.

“Got a lot of nerve, taking one of my best nurses,” Catherine teases. If there was one thing they could count on the Army to do — it’d be to find a place with access to a bar after being pulled off the line. Because what better way to cope with what they’ve seen than with alcohol? And for once, Daisy could use a drink. She gives the woman a smile.

“If I had it my way, you’d be mine too. Blame Ginny.” She shoots a glance across the table, and Ginny takes a sip from her glass, shaking her head.

“Blame Peake,” Is all she supplies the two other women with, but it’s enough to garner a laugh. Apparently after the Colonel left, Ginny’s office reeked of cigars, and she had to open up all the windows to get rid of it. Now, every minor inconvenience was Peake’s fault. “Besides, those girls from Fox are good women. Not their fault Fox Company’s full of active duty yokels that left all their sense in the airfield.” Another round of laughter from her two counterparts, Daisy looks around to see if anyone is really paying attention to their conversation. It doesn’t seem like it.

“Speaking of that, what’s the word? Do you think we’ll be auxiliary support again? Or are they sending us to a hospital?” Ginny sighs, setting down her glass.

“Honestly? I’ve got no clue what they’re thinking.” Ward’s groan is a bit more melodramatic than usual, but Daisy assumes it’s because the alcohol is making her a little looser.

“C’mon, Cap, no early gifts from Old Saint Dick?” Ginny scoffs at that lightheartedly, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

“Captain Nixon thinks it’ll be a Berlin jump in three months, so as far as I know, our odds of relinking with the Airborne in Berlin are about as good as us being stationed in a hospital or being reassigned to some other Division,” she stares into her empty glass for a moment. “In any case I might move Rita’s squad to Fox. She’s got the attitude to handle them, I think.” Catherine nods, and Daisy quirks an eyebrow as the woman then reaches to tug on her ear.

“Hope we’re under American command then, for this one’s sake.” Daisy tilts her head up, sticking her nose in the air for a moment as she finishes off her own glass of brandy. She’s never been much of a drinker, so it doesn’t take long for her to feel a little warm all over. And it loosens her up enough to smile at Ward’s teasing, at the very least.

“He started it, and Ginny finished it. I was an innocent bystander.” Ward rolls her eyes at that, giving Daisy’s earlobe one last definitive tug before releasing it.

“There are many ways to describe you, Daisy. Innocent bystander sure as hell isn’t one of them.” Daisy smiles in spite of herself, gives a bit of a shrug, and is about to offer to get Ward another drink when the door opens.

“There she is! Our very own Madame President,” the voice isn’t loud enough to garner all the attention from the room, but it’s familiar. From the way Ginny rolls her eyes with a certain fondness, she recognizes it as well. Daisy cranes her head back. She recognizes Dick’s red hair immediately, and then the dark-haired man, Nixon, from Eindhoven. The curly-haired man with them is someone she’s never actually spoken to — but has seen all the same. Nixon stops at their table, and looks the three women over before his gaze settles on Daisy. “So then I take it you’re Clarke.”

“What gave me away?” He jabs a thumb at Ginny, who’s scooting over on her side of the booth to allow Nixon a free space. She watches as the curly-haired one goes to grab an empty chair, and Dick then slides in on her and Ward’s side.

“You know how many times this one says Daisy in a day?” Ginny pouts, reaching up to pat Nixon’s cheek.

“Aw, is Dick not showing you enough affection these days, Lew?” Dick scoffs and rolls his eyes, shaking his head as the curly-haired man returns. They go through their rounds of introductions, and the curly-haired one is Harry Welsh. Daisy can vaguely recall his name being mentioned every now and again by the other men, in Holland. He offers to get everyone another round and Catherine accompanies him — so Daisy watches with a bit of a smile as Nixon and Ginny begin to go back and forth.

“I thought vacations were supposed to make you more relaxed,”

“You have a special talent for spiking my blood pressure, sir.”

Daisy looks at Dick and mouths a quiet ‘Are they always like this?’ — Dick just nods with an amused sort of glint as Daisy tries to piece together what exactly they’re talking about. Bits and pieces of Ginny’s time in Paris, which she then learns, was also spent in Dick’s company. Ginny recounts Dick’s poor French with an amused glint in her eye, before admitting that she isn’t much better at the language herself. Every now and again in the midst of conversation, Nixon will eye her and she doesn’t quite understand why. But Catherine and Harry return with drinks for the table and the night moves on.

Harry talks fondly about a girl at home, Kitty, and it makes Daisy feel warm as she lets her thoughts drift, uninhibited as a result of the alcohol in her system as she downs the refilled glass. She can’t help but wonder if Ron ever talked about her in this light — like she really was the best thing since penicillin. Or maybe she was a secret, something closely guarded for only him to know; what had he done with her letters? Did he burn them after reading? Did he carry them around? She tries to keep up with the conversation, throwing in her own small quips and laughing when everyone else does, but her mind is, once again, preoccupied. She finds herself leaning against Dick’s arm for a moment, her face warm and brain muddled with thoughts of Ron that just won’t go away.

Nixon looks at her again, and she wipes her nose, pulling herself away from Dick and sitting up a little straighter.

“I think m’gonna go…” Daisy declares, but it’s more like a murmur, mixed in with a quiet “M’tired.” She feels Dick’s fingers wrap around her arm gently as he rises to his feet.

“I’ll walk you back.” Nixon rises shortly after that, waving his hand in a gesture as if to tell Dick to sit back down.

“I’ve got it. You walk too slow anyway.” The two men continue to exchange words, but Daisy isn’t really listening as her gaze falls to Ginny, who just gives her one of those softer smiles of hers and bids her a quiet goodnight. Whatever debate the two of them were having — it seems that Nixon’s won out as he offers his arm to her. And while she isn’t stumbling yet, she takes it, letting the man guide her out of the bar and back towards the camp set up on the outskirts of town.

He smells like a bar and military soap, and runs warm in comparison to the frigid December air. She shivers for a moment, and Nixon looks at her, a teasing grin making its way onto his face.

“Don’t go getting cold on me now, Daisy. He might get mad if I give you my jacket.” Her lips tug into a frown, not quite getting the joke. And since it’s just them, she doesn’t have to play along and laugh regardless.

“I don’t think Dick would care. He likes Ginny.” she states bluntly. Nixon chuckles sharply through the nose.

“He wouldn’t.”

The conversation dies there for a moment, with Daisy left discontent by Nixon’s remark. It nags at her, incessantly. Her arm wraps around his a little tighter, as she takes her lip between her teeth for a moment. Daisy takes another look at him, at his scruffy beard, hair slightly mussed from Ginny ruffling it at some point in the night.

“Captain Nixon..?” she murmurs, more to herself than to him, but he looks at her all the same, with a tilt to his head. She tries to grasp the words before they slip from her sluggish train-of-thought. “He was… looking for you one time. N’I was with… Liebgott. Think it bothered him.” she continues to mutter. Nixon smiles again, amused.

“Oh it definitely bothered him. If a look could kill, Liebgott would be dead three times over,” he starts out before trailing off with a slight shake of his head. “Still a little sharp even after drinking half your weight, huh Clarke?” Daisy narrows her eyes at him.

“Wasn’t half my weight.”

“Oh right, it was a third.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Or you’re just pouty when you drink,” Daisy shifts for a moment, wiggling her fingers until she can find the inside of his arm, and gives it a sharp pinch. He jerks away at that, looking at her with wide eyes. Daisy smiles to herself, giving him nothing more than a shrug. He shifts, so his hand is ghosting the small of her back, preventing her from pinching him there again. The thought makes her grin a little bit more, satisfied with herself. Eventually, they do reach the tent she’s staying in.

“Sorry for pinching you,” Daisy professes, and Nixon gives her a bit of a shrug, waving his hand dismissively. They bid each other quick goodbyes before she’s slinking towards her cot to lay down and shut her eyes, hoping that her body will be merciful on her in the morning.

. . .

She’s been privy to enough of James’ hangovers to know what they are and what they aren’t. She’s even watched as his friends recount whatever he’d gotten up to the night before, because he couldn’t remember it. So she knows that at the very least, she wasn’t as bad as her brother. She recalls most of the night, even if things are just a little fuzzier towards the end. She still knows what she said and to who, and at least it wasn’t too embarrassing.

It doesn’t change the fact that her head hurts and the sun is a little too bright for her liking and the people around her are a little too loud, but who is she to complain, really? She sucks it up and continues on with her day, because that’s all she really can do. She’s on duty at the infirmary all day, and it’s a little strange to now be the one giving the orders instead of receiving them, but even so she still assists her fellow nurses.

“Afternoon, dollface,” a voice drawls out — Bill Guarnere is perched upon one of the cots like he’s a kid going to see his pediatrician, and she can’t help but roll her eyes fondly as she approaches.

“The leg again, Bill?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she kneels down to take a look at his leg. He’d gone AWOL from the hospital, and considering he wasn’t fully healed, Roe had been keeping a watchful eye on him. She looks up at him through her lashes as she rolls up his pants leg.

“See this right here, this is what happens when we try to leave hospitals with shoe polish on our casts. Honestly I think you might be the worst of the worst,” she scolds, and Guarnere simply laughs, coming up with a million different reasons why he couldn’t stay in the hospital. She holds up her hand to get him to stop speaking, looking up at him fully. “Just try to stay off it. I could see about getting you an extra pillow so it’s elevated when you sleep. Not much we can do about it now. We’re running low on everything and I will not enable recreational morphine use.” He grins a little wider at her remark.

“Oh c’mon, you really think I would do that? A person of my character?” he teases. Daisy stands up again, and reaches to flick his forehead gently.

“I think a person of your character has the impulse control of a schoolboy. Who knows what you’d get up to. Is Lieutenant Dike having you guys go on another parade march?” She reaches for a piece of scrap paper, and a pen. And then she starts to scribble.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Sit it out.” She hands the note over to him. “Tell him it’s the doctor’s orders. And if he wants you marching three months from now, then he’ll let you sit this one out. And if you don’t I’ll pull you back here by your ear, that clear?”

“Crystal.” Guarnere takes it, sauntering out of the infirmary — or rather, trying to, with a slight limp to his leg that he tries his best to mask. She watches for a moment, wanting to help but knowing he (alongside every other paratrooper she knows) would decline that help.

She has a meeting later, with Brant, Ward, and, McCarney to talk about that same supplies situation, along with some of the officers from 326th Medical — so she doesn’t dally when it’s time for that. Improvising what exactly to do while they wait for things to come in is an arduous task, everyone laden with understandable frustration. That, combined with the lack of penicillin and winter creeping in leaves Daisy feeling a little uncertain. She’s heard her fair share of wet coughs and wheezing breaths around Mourmelon. Winter’s finally settling in and they haven’t even gotten the proper uniforms for it yet.

And even though there’s not much that she can do, she’s still going to mull it over as she leaves the office with a hand brought to her chin, stroking pensively. There isn’t much to do about the uniforms, but scrounging for supplies and trying to figure out how to make what they do have last.

Her gaze drifts ahead, towards a dark-haired soldier and she straightens out, ready to thank Nixon again for walking her back last night and once again apologize for pinching him so hard. Her lips pull into a polite smile, anticipating some sort of snark from the man that she’d witnessed last night. As she approaches — she feels her chest begin to tighten, a lump forming in her throat, any remnant of a hangover vanishing.

“Ronnie?” Her voice is trembling, she thinks it cracks. His head turns to her — and then the rest of his body with it.

“Daisy.” He greets, standing still. No blood, no water, no cam cream and no holes or bandages.

She launches herself at him without a second thought.

#ronald speirs x ofc #ronald speirs fic #ronald speirs #band of brothers #band of brothers fic #hbo war x oc #hbo war fic #fic // sad beautiful tragic #hbo war #ron speirs #ron speirs fic

[johnlocsin-johnyakuza]

Part 1 of chapter 2 of Omori x Deltarune

Kel knocks on Sunny’s door, happy to see him but also to make sure they both didn’t go crazy yesterday, they both go in Sunny’s closet and transform into their new forms, happy to see their new friends they made, including the rather quiet Stranger who welcomes them. They look around for a bit and Stranger reveals a small portion of the world that resembles a more fleshed out building version of Neighbor’s Room, with 6 rooms, two of which belong to Sunny and Kel each. Kel’s room is a over exaggerated version of his side of his and Hero’s light world bedroom, instead of a small basket to shoot hoops he has a small basketball court, lots of colorful posters and other some personal belonging counterparts. Sunny’s room is Whitespace but with a bed in there, Mewo is also there which is weird to actually pet a real version of her and for someone else real to do the same. After talking for a bit Kel tells Stranger he and Sunny are going to go hang out around town before he moves but promises to visit again when they finish. During all this if the player explored every corner they would find out a couple things. First off anytime Kel is gone Stranger talks to Sunny in a more blunt manner letting him know how he has feels with the current choices he’s made, as well as the danger Sunny will face, but he believes if he sticks with and trust his friends he will be fine. Another thing to notice is the way Kel likes encouraging Stranger to be more of a person by just treating him as one, instead of just the embodiment of Sunny’s need to seek the truth, this will be used as the story goes on with Stranger struggling with a sense of self identity and figuring out what he enjoys outside his role. Stranger during the first chapter warns of the dangers of dark worlds, instead it being the end of the world it’s more about the dangers of those worlds may kill someone or that a lightner may use it to escape their problems rather then face them. Finally the hints to the mysterious entity that is creating Dark Fountains and no one seems to know who is causing this, not even Stranger as he assumes Omori vanished with the dream friends, though early on there is text that hints at the mysterious things Stranger does in secrets and making him a possible suspect for this “Knight”.

Nice, I’m liking this so far

[gayspock]

ok im finished with s2 of bsg btw

EVERY TIME I THINK I KNOW HOW BAD GAIUS CAN FUCK UP HE ASTONISHES US ALL. ITS SO FUCKING FUNNY. HES THE FUNNIEST FUCKING CHARACTER EVER TO FUCKING EXIST.

LIKE IVE NEVER... THE WORD CRINGEFAIL? ITS FOR HIM AND ABOUT HIM; DEFINED BY HIM. HOW DOES HE FUCKING MANAGE IT. IM LOSING MY MIND. THIS MAN WILL DOOM US ALL . GOD SPEED

anyways im starting the resistance webisodes rn. a few things. i hope going forward we do get more development for the civilians and again not the same recurring issues ive been bringing up bc NOW i feel like its imperative that theyre well fleshed out if this is taking the direction i think its taking

bc otherwise this whole thing could be exhausting as hell LOL

also cally. her actress is really cute and early on i was endeared to her (bc shes set up as a chara i'd rlly like) but since then its so funny like... they just get her to do whatever the fuck huh. like. she'll shoot sharon or she'll get beat up and now shes married to the chief. ok. right. its so funny like shes existing outside the narrative until they randomly decide to ave her do osme shit

btw i bet if billy was still alive the voter fraud well they would have still been caught no doubt tory fucking rules but it would have been funny if billy was caught instead

ALSO GOD I DONTKNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY MY BRAINS EVERYWHERE LIKE

i dont know how i feel about the cylon storyline right now. i absolutely did really love the caprica six and boomer episode bc theyre my favies BUT im unsure if i like it narratively speaking does that make any sortof sense

again i think its coming from a place of like... hmm... the societal aspects of cylons ALSo has always felt underdeveloped BUT that was more passable under the guise of mystery and NOW i think its one of those things where its like... ahrgh you've tried to put the bad sfx into good lighting and we can see it dont do thattt LOL bc like

i dont know i do worry that the cylons will approach a state of "too human" if that makes sense. like within the story and within their own motivations. i dont quiteknow how to describe it im very tired but its like... I DONT mean discussing how they're like/unalike humans thats FINE but. AHRHGHGHGHGG

YOU KNOW WITH LIKE EVERY AI STORYLINE THERE'S ALWAYS THAT "I'LL NEVER BE AREAL HUMAN

YEAH but then a lot of the time its still done in a very... human way even when theyre trying to reject it and... NOT purposefully its like people cant write an actual inhuman perspective, without assuming some fundamental aspects of human nature. does that make any sense in the world and whatsoever???

anyways i dont know my point is i get a little anxious the more and more aspects of cylons that come to light bc i feel like ive been anticipating A LOT with them with the wa y theyve been stringing us along but yeah theres behaviours like that where im like am i about to get terribly disappointed

speaking of im wondering who he other cylons are in the fleet still bc they mentioned 8 and idk if that meant 8 copies or 8 models and who that counts as but surely there must be some unrevealed did the girlies just pretend thats not a concern or assume it was porkie pies

also also im . very tired all over the place but hmm.im thinking moreso about the nature of the others and i think i brought up last time abt how lee couldnt be a copy bc theyd have to make a line of models identical to him and so and such BUT ehhrm. hm. i still dont think lee is one but i do wonder if like... the order of their numbers is significant that maybe like. there are later/newer models thatmight be unique or are working to be replicas of existing people rather than just .. whatever is occurring with them rn

alsog od what else

roslin is so girlboss funny for just becoming a teacher again

what else

idk

im tired

i'llremember whatelse later<3

#Egg.txt #bsg liveblog

[mirrorballwhoistrying]

Sky Blue January (02.02.2024)

Hey, it's me again! I can't believe a month of 2024 is gone already. Who said January was moving slowly didn't make sense. I never feel like time ever moves slowly. It moves a little a time then all at once. Oop! Just like growing up!

I had a countdown party at my cousin's house on New Year's Eve. It was fun until the topic of marriage was constantly brought up. I wasn't even surprised. My brother was the main target. He left early and never came back. Good for him as I would do the same.

I woke up to New Year late as I should. I had a haircut. That's already the norm, right?

The next day, January 2nd I went to Chef Nak's house with BKT and BSR for photoshooting. The main purpose was not only for the photo shoot but also to talk about the unfinished work. Things were going okay until discussing with BSR. What I could hear from him was that my work is not worthy for him to pay a lot. A side of me wanted to prove him wrong and tried to do my best, but then on the way home, I became mad and decided that if people not going to see value in my work, then I was not wasting time trying to prove them. Did I do the right thing? Is this a sign of my lack of communication skill and collaboration skills? Is this what's costing me all the good opportunities?

On the first weekend, I went on a trip with BKT and BKL. This is definitely another occasion that sent me into another existential crisis. They lived in a very different world from my usual circle and that's somehow all my friend groups are. They are rich and talk about businesses and having fun. Money isn't their concern, but it's about love and friendship. I had fun of course but a different kind of fun, but a good thing is I know they are people I can count on, right?

I also started posting content back on social media. In a way, I feel so lost in direction. Am I doing the right thing? Do people even care what I'm saying? Am I not trying hard enough? Am I trying hard in the right direction? What does it all lead up to? Why do I have to question so much instead of putting effort into making it good and happen?

I finally announced my resignation to my teammates. They were so sad and really wanted me to stay. I feel so lucky to have them for real.

I have to address the elephant in the room. I was selected for YSEALI AFP! Damn! My 5 years of effort finally paid off! I was so happy, but I also hated another part of me that immediately started asking "What's next?" Why can't I live in the moment instead of always constantly looking for what's next? I really need to enjoy the moment and appreciate my efforts. I know for sure that I'm the oldest in my cohort but I don't care as long as I'm going to the US!

I went to G sauna and on a date. It was nice and I'm glad and I put myself out there again. Workwise, it's also really hectic at the workplace as it's still the peak season. I sent a message to VT to separate PPUB but she hasn't responded yet. I made up my mind and she's not going to change that.

I'm 25 this year. I feel such an existential crisis. Most of my peers are either in their family era or cooperate era because they finished their academic era already. I feel like I'm still starting. This is a hard thing I have to constantly tell myself to stop living my life based on society's pressure, and limited belief... I can travel around, enjoy the view, and arrive at the destination. I should enjoy the journey instead of rushing to finish the race. It was always about the journey.

I feel so old when there are these young upcoming youths lately. Maybe that's what I shouldn't worry about. It's not about competition. It's about helping one another win.

I feel lost, to be honest on what I should focus on now. Should I focus on switching my career? Should I focus on building my project? Should I focus on academic things?

Or maybe I shouldn't be stressed out too much. I learned from Taylor that I can switch from one era to another era any time. I really just have to focus on choosing one thing in front of me and focus on it and make it the best I can. It's easier said than done, but I'd do the best I can for 2024 because I'm in my 1989 era!

[kelli56n3994253]

Five Things Every Great First-Person Shooter Needs

Neat, he'll keel over, and while he does, here, have 500 XP. Oh, you shot many guys? Here, have a brand new skill level. Now you possibly can shoot guys more efficiently. It's dull and repetitive, yet this is what video games like the Borderlands sequence deal with. I've watched early footage of Gearbox's next sport, Battleborn, and thus far, it looks much the same method. The user interface stands in for what the sport itself ought to be doing, and as a result, combat would not really feel almost nearly as good as it should. That you're utilizing guns doesn't seem to matter in these games; by no means mind that you are taking pictures enemies. The progress you make is shown by means of the game's consumer interface, but it doesn't have to be that manner, because of a little bit factor known as feedback. I just lately began replaying Rage. Look at how this mutant stumbles once i shoot him! This is feedback. With a superb shooter, there's a sense of progress and influence.

As it's a truth that each single little one has more than five toys in their childhood. A few of The kids have a complete wardrobe of toys which they use for enjoying. In all these toys, Toy Gun is likely one of the toys the kids desire because it's fascinating and entertaining to play with. The nerf Guns are excellent as they are available a wide range of designs and qualities. Now many corporations have started producing automatic nerf gun with some extraordinary quality to draw the kids in the direction of it. Playing with toy guns could be very safe and enjoyable for the youngsters. Allow us to see how the nerf guns are appropriate for teenagers. One in every of the perfect things the children do with the help of Nerf guns is that they spend extra time doing a little physical activity somewhat than spending their time in front of idiot box on the cell phone. Every mum or dad wants their little one to do some bodily activity in order that the bones of the physique can turn into extra robust.

In the course of the day, place your sponge in a sunny spot, ensuring the sponge stays wet -- water around the sponge; do not put water straight on the seeds. 3. For selection, draw and cut out totally different shapes from the compressed sponge. You may even strive sprinkling seeds over simply certain areas of the sponge. For example, you possibly can cut out a shape that appears like a person's head and sprinkle the seeds over the world the place hair would develop. Then you could draw on a face with markers. Pretend he is a leprechaun for even more luck. Leprechauns are exhausting to seek out. But they will be appearing in all places this St. Patrick's Day with the help of the craft you may find out about next. The primary St. Patrick's Day parade happened not in Ireland but in New York City on March 17, 1762. Patrick's Day, make your individual band of lively leprechauns out of chenille stems, paper, and imagination. Cut out a paper circle, draw a face on it, and add a cottony wisp of a white beard. Cut out and glue a hat to the top of his head. Twist a second chenille stem around the body to make wee arms. If you'd like to make a pin out of your buddy, glue the again (the aspect that doesn't open) of a small safety pin to the back of the leprechaun's head. Now you have received a green pal you can carry or put on to inspire a smile. You'll be within the green so long as your little buddy is near. Make different individuals while you finish your leprechaun. Use your imagination, and come up with your personal fun guys and gals. Keep reading to discover ways to make a festive balloon shamrock. Fold the balloon over. Pull the knot by the fold. Repeat the final two steps twice to make the shamrock's other leaves.

All that in an reasonably priced price tag that is simply north of twenty bucks is tough to pass up and our motive why it took the top spot overall. The Nerf Zipfire 2 Pack Combat Blaster is the last word water Orbi Gun duo that promises limitless water-soaking excitement for water warriors of all ages. This set contains two compact and excessive-efficiency blasters, good for dueling with friends or partaking in thrilling water battles. Each blaster features a quick and simple-to-use design, guaranteeing speedy-fire action and drenching enjoyable in each spherical. With the Nerf Zipfire 2 Pack Combat Blaster, you can take your water fights to the subsequent stage and become the undisputed champion of splash warfare. Top Reason to buy: With two blasters in the set, you can workforce up with a friend, go head-to-head, or take them both and twin-wield each. The compact dimension and lightweight design make these blasters straightforward to carry and use, permitting for agile movements during intense battles.

Good shooter degree design is the same manner-it's all about maintaining you considering concerning the combat. It's about supplying you with quality time together with your enemies. A superb shooter enemy's job is to maneuver the player around the map. Don't believe me? Imagine an enemy that stands nonetheless and accepts your bullets; you shoot it, and it simply sits there with out responding. How boring is that? What about an enemy that dies as quickly as you click on him? He'd be boring, too! Either enemy is like a nasty tug of conflict opponent-you don't need an opponent who enables you to pull the rope with out resistance, however you don't need a rope that refuses to budge either. For tug of battle to be enjoyable, you want enemies who've a bit of give and take. Now suppose about a superb shooter enemy, one you've loved preventing. For me, it is guys like Halo's Elite, an enemy who will get in close to punch me within the face, that make the game enjoyable.

[wolfwing04]

As Above, So Below - Rock and Roll

Rin Okumura x OC

Blue heart is Rins POV, Purple is Ren's

Chapter 2

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

The next morning comes quickly after I close my eyes. Body parts scream at me even as I lie relaxed in bed. One would think stretching would help, but oh no! I just found more screaming muscles to deal with much later. I slip on some shirt from my floor, a hoodie, and a pair of trackies. I may have class but it's Cram only so I’m going to be comfy god damn it.

The washroom is cold in the early morning and echoes the sound of a presence in there. “Morning.” I call to announce my arrival. “Morning.” the muffled voice of Rin responds. Joining him at the sink, I see he is muffled because of his toothbrush. He may be dumb but at least he’s hygienic. “Thanks for your shirt yesterday. I’ll give it back this arvo after I do laundry.” He finishes brushing and flashes a big grin “Sweet! Thanks.” I finish up in the washroom and make my way back to my dorm.

“Hey!” Kamiki shouts from behind. I wait for her to catch up to me, and she hands me my folded flannel. “Thanks for yesterday…you and Rin.” I take it from her outstretched arms. “No problem. How are you and Paku holding up?” “She’s ok now. Hey, don’t tell anyone I was crying, ok?” She shoots me a glare “I wasn’t going to anyways but ok, I promise.” I send her a quick wink before I make my way to the kitchen…then to my dorm which was the actual place I was heading.

—

That afternoon, we have Cram classes. We are all still tired from yesterday's ghoulish events so attention is lacking and fuses are short. I have moved from sitting behind Rin, to next to. Shiemi said she didn’t mind and "It makes more sense than having to move ourselves to talk properly”. I still feel bad though. After yesterday, I asked Shiemi to be my friend. Poor thing almost died of excitement. Kamiki, though, seems extremely down. After what happened with Paku, I don’t blame her. 

In scripture class, Miss calls on Kamiki to read the te deum assigned for homework. She’s so out of it, she falls over her words and goes quiet. “Oh my, Miss Kamiki! This isn’t like you at all! Mr Suguro, why don’t you give it a try.” and Bon does. Flawlessly. We all can’t help but be in awe. 

When Miss left at the end of class, the usual bullfuckery commenced. Bon makes a snide comment to Kamiki who fires one back and on and on it goes until they are standing at the front of the room with mine and Rins desk behind them. The moment Bon makes a grab for Kamiki, RIn and I are out of our seats. I make a grab for Kamiki while Rin tries to go for Bon. Instead, Rin gets a slap to the face and I get pushed into Rin. “Oi! Watch it!” “Ow that hurt!” We remark. ‘If you're gonna fight, do it outside!’ The thud of a heavy bag hitting the teachers desk snaps our heads in that direction. Yukio has arrived. “Enough with the fighting…” Oh boy does he look pissed.

—

“The hell is up with this damn rock? It’s getting heavier by the second!” Rin grits through his teeth. As punishment for fighting, Yukio is having us sit with a demonic rock, bariyon, in our laps that keeps getting heavier. Surely this counts as corporal punishment, right? Nonetheless, my posture is perfect. Sam would be proud. 

It hasn’t stopped the arguing though, which I’m sure no one saw coming (sarcasm). Yukio goes on a spiel about teamwork in the field. He’s not wrong but there's also a moth in the room which is arguably more interesting. “Ok, I have to leave on a 3 hour long mission. Now, because of the attack yesterday I’m taking extra measures and locking the entrances and putting up wards.” Yukio smirks way too smugly. Asshole.

The moment Yukio shuts the door behind him, Kamiki and Bon are at it again, with Rin and I in the middle yet again. “Will you quit fighting with us in the middle?” “Bon, mate, I’ll deck you so hard you’ll find your teeth in Kyoto. Shut up.” Bon looks at me slightly shocked, Rin a little impressed. The electrical system even had a reaction. It shut itself off. Lovely, now we’re all in the dark.

We all stand up in a hurry, Rin dropped his bariyon on his foot. “Is it a blackout?” “I can see lights outside.” “So it’s only us?” “Should we call someone?” “Ow! My foot…” Shima declares he’s going to look outside. “I love scary things like this!” “Man, you’re gonna get yourself killed.” We watch in silence as he opens the door, stares at the ghoul, and closes it again. Hairs stand up and the air drops a few degrees. “My eyes must be playing tricks on me. Either that or we have a de-!” the ghouls arm bursts through the wall to make a grab at Shima, who screams and darts back to us. “Good one, dickhead!”

The rest of its body slinks through the wall’s hole into the room. We are frozen in place trying to work out what to do. None of us are trained for this and Yukio is gone. The large mound on its shoulder bursts open to form a second, flower-shaped head. A bunch of its fluid is sprayed onto the 9 of us. Kamiki shrieks in disgust. “Ew, ew!” I repeat, trying to rub it off my arm. No matter how hard I rub, it still feels like it's there, deep in my skin, seeped into the flesh. Rin gently takes my arm and makes me stop rubbing “I know, but we need to work out what to do.” We make ‘eye contact’ and I start to feel a little better. 

Shiemi’s little Green Man sprouts a giant thorned wall between us and the ghoul. “Hey! Good one Shiemi.” I clasp her shoulder in approval. “Damn, for a dead thing it’s pretty lively.” “That's because it’s stronger in the dark.” I explain to him. Glancing around the room everyone, except for the two weird students, have their fear plastered on their face. Suddenly, Shiemi begins coughing hard. “I feel…dizzy…” She collapses to the ground under my hand. I go to catch her but ultimately end up gently guiding her down. Everyone else starts coughing too, except Rin and I. I’m fairly certain I’m not affected by the ghoul’s fluid because of my…lineage but Rin…Rin is human…right?

“Hell of a good time not to be picking up, Yukio!” Rin sasses his phone. I turn away to check on Shiemi for one second, and when I turn back Rin is making his way to the thorn wall. Self-sacrificing asshole. I leave Shiemi and follow after him. “Ren, stop!” Bon grabs hold of my arm. His eyes scream that he doesn’t want to risk losing someone else. “Someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble.” I slip his grip and dart after Rin. 

Down the corridor I chase them, slowly catching up. Walls get demolished as we go, and when the ghoul moves in such a way I can get past, I do. “Ren?! What the hell?” “Just keep going!” I shout back. “I’m going to try and turn the power back on.” “Aight! I’ll distract the bastard.” And hopefully I can figure out why it’s after me, and maybe Rin too. 

I take out my daggers and have at it. Rin takes off down the rest of the hallway to check the fuse box. Yesterday was one thing fighting this with Rin. Today it’s one on one, but it might as well be one on twenty. I pray that Rin will get the lights soon, and try to focus on landing hits. Easier said than done. I may be well trained but the ghoul is a crafty motherfucker. “His Soldier…” it groans. “How do you know about me?” Instead of answering, it grabs my hoodie and uses it to throw me down to the end of the hall and into Rin. The ghoul follows, eager to finish us off.

We both stand to fight against the ghoul; daggers and…a sheathed sword. “You could draw that you know! Might help.” Rin ignores me. The back and forth bores the ghoul and once again takes it out on me by backhanding me down to the ground. I’m out.

—

💙

They’re out. Ren isn’t moving. The ghoul turns back to me and all I feel is a burning, seething rage. “Don’t mess with me!” I burst.

Blue. Bright, burning blue. I’m used to this now but…I didn’t draw my sword. What’s happening? The ghoul stumbles back “Excellent. That’s what I’ve been wanting to see.” Wait…that’s… ‘Those brilliant blue flames you keep hidden away.’ Noihaus knows…I don’t understand. All I know is Ren can’t wake up and see me like this. “How’d you find out? Who told you? Hang on, are you the one who’s behind these attacks on us?!” His laugh just pisses me off more. Cocky asshole. He almost seems proud. “Actually I am. But enough about me. I wanna see more of that power of yours.” 

The ghoul and I begin the song and dance all over again. But this time, I’m finishing it. And finish it I do by driving my sword deep into its head. Pushing all the anger I have into it. Please…please don’t wake up yet. 

—

💜

Blue. Bright, burning blue light. Not at all concerning to see when you open your eyes for the first time after being unconscious. “…Rin?” I know he was here when I went out…I hope he’s still here. Though, if the light is burning it could be fire so maybe he's not. It abruptly stops and I’ve got to rub my eyes to readjust to the darkness again. “Hey…you alright?” It is Rin “Thank god you’re here…I was worried I was dead.” I nervously chuckle. He flashes me a sheepish smile and we share a forehead touch. I worried him? “What was that blue light?” He tenses up and looks away. He knows something. “I don’t know. But I know who’s behind this. Come on!” He helps me up and fills me in on the way, but not before turning the lights back on. 

—

We make a detour to check on the others and make sure they’re ok and the other half of the demon is dead. “Hey!- what happened to the other half of the ghoul?” All eyes are on us. Stunned.“But your ghoul…??” Bon trails off“Huh? Oh I killed it!” Rin grins. “I attempted to help but ended up unconscious instead.” I admit, a little too casually. “Guess y’all got yours too huh? Sweet.” “Ren…you went unconscious?” Bon asks, genuinely concerned. “Yeah. I don’t think it was for long though. Just long enough for Rin to have all the fun and kill the ghoul.” I shrug before I go and check on Shiemi while Bon tries to murder Rin for being stupid and taking on a ghoul alone. And just like that, we’re all back to normal.

It's not long before Yukio returns from his mission. Is 3 hours really over that quickly? “Hey Yukio! Where the hell have you been? We’ve-“ Rin falls silent when he notices Noihaus walk in. The vibe of the room changes and grows thicker. My gut tells me things are getting really bad.

#rin okumura #rin okumura x oc #ao no exorcist #blue excorsist #fanfic

[kaijime]

watch your mouth

includes. osamu miya x f!reader

cw. corruption kink, virgin reader/first time, osamu wants to breed u <33, dubcon, kitchen sex? [it’s in his shop so?], fingering, pierced dick [prince albert piercing], vaginal penetration, size kink, praise kink, tummy bulge, breeding kink, slight dumbification, creampie, thigh slapping?

wc. 3k

a/n. my piece for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab, thank you for letting me join!!

osamu miya likes to think he follows a strict routine. he wakes up early, shows up for his job, works, and goes home, waiting for tomorrow to arrive and the cycle to repeat itself.

but ever since you've entered his restaurant, you've become a part of his routine.

he sits behind the kitchen counter, watching in admiration how you tend to the customers. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't staring at your ass, but it’s not a lie if he doesn't say it right?

"samu?" there's that nickname again, the one you deemed him ever since that interview for the part time job. "this customer says you forgot to give her a part of her order"

"no i didn't"

"yeah, look" you approach him with the receipt in hand, pointing to a small part of the inked writing. "see?"

he can't see. or at least he can't see the receipt. he's too focused on you, pressing up against him. he knows you're not at fault, but you couldn't be that innocent.

you couldn't be innocent enough to not know the things you were doing to him, the things you were making him feel, the urges that blossomed with every lingering look and longing touch you left on his body. you just couldn't be.

right?

yet, even when his idiotic brother dropped by his shop and shamelessly started flirting with you, you, it seemed like you didn't catch onto what he was doing.

"what's the freakiest place you've ever had sex in?" the fake blond asked, and osamu would've stopped him, if he wasn't curious to hear the answer for himself. still, he doesn't drive his full attention away from the counters he's been wiping, seemingly focused on the simple task.

you chuckled awkwardly under your breath. "that's inappropriate, tsu-"

"c'mon, tell me" he bumps his elbow against yours "can't be that bad"

"no i-... i've never uhm..." osamu can tell you're stumbling and stuttering to find an answer, so he lends you a few helping words.

"'tsumu” he calls "will ya stop harrassin' my employees?"

"'m just talkin' to her samu, no need to make a big fuss" he downs the last of his food and leaves, supposedly in a sudden rush.

it doesn't seem like it’s been hours since then, but the moon hangs low, and the crickets sing outside the window in spite of the late hour. despite the passing of time, not a single word has been said between you and your boss about the conversation you had with his brother, and every minute that passes only seems to thicken the tension between the two of you.

"shit" you mumble, mostly to yourself. you didn’t expect him to shoot up from his place, bent down searching through the lower cabinets.

"watch yer mouth" he says, an evident frown on his face, where he would once smile at you and nod in greeting.

"sorry" you reply, lip pouting slightly while you cleaned off your finger with a paper towel "just got a papercut" the blood tints the paper red and you wince at the stinging sensation.

"here" he holds out his hand to examine yours, even though you already cleaned most of it off, there's still a slight trickle of blood. he wipes it out with the towel he always hangs on his shoulder.

as he cleans your hand, he can't help but think about how it'd look so pretty wrapped around his cock. it would certainly bring more relief than his fist after all this time he's spent thinking about you while stroking himself late at night.

it’s not the first time thoughts like these cloud osamu's mind, but this time he's a little less discreet about it. he stares at your hand like he wants to devour it, and you'd be a fool not to notice it.

"samu?" you call out to his faraway mind, and he snaps out of his thoughs, loosening his grip around your hand.

"right" he mumbles, clearing his throat "sorry"

"thank you" you almost whisper, if he wasn't so close to you, he probably wouldn't have heard it.

he turns and goes back to the cabinets, thinking about what you answered earlier. you'd never what? had sex? were you that uncorrupted?

it would make sense to him, and it would help ease the pain of seeing you let his brother flirt with you like he wasn't even there, but those are all selfish reasons he wants to believe, and he's too scared to ask.

apparently not scared enough.

“what were ya talkin’ about with my brother” he asks, nonchalant as ever, making your breath hitch as you turned around hesitantly.

“we were just chatting” you say, the slightest purse on your lips that tried to relieve the nervousness of the conversation.

“sorry about that” he apologizes. “he can be annoyin’ sometimes”

“oh no, he wasn’t” you lie, clenching around the table cloth you held in your hands. even if the talk had been going smoothly, you still felt on edge after the question his brother left you thinking about. “he was really friendly”

“really?” his hands find comfort in his pockets, and if you’d looked close enough, you would’ve seen the slight smirk in his lip, one that indicates how eager he is to hear what you had to say. “then why didn’ you answer his question?”

if only you knew how much it mattered to him, to know if you were a pretty untouched virgin or not. osamu miya likes to go for girls like you, college girls who look for a quick cashgrab as a part time employee, innocent little girls who unknowingly fall for his charms and next thing you know he’s ruining them with his cock.

but you feel different, you feel delicate. like a pretty piece of porcelain he might break if he continues to toy with you under his calloused hands. yet, he can’t help but think about how perfect he finds your body. perfectly ripe and ready to be filled to the brim with his seed, the perfect age to be plump and round with a child. his child.

“does it matter?”

oh, it does, especially when he pins you against the counter and grips your cheeks between his thumb and his index finger. “samu?” you ask, displaying that innocent look on your face he’d grown to hate.

“i told ya to watch yer mouth” his hands roam down your body until they grab at the back of your thighs. “now jump”

“samu i- i’ve never done anything like-“

“i said jump” hesitant with your actions, you jump and wrap your legs around his waist as he settles you on the shop counter, where he takes off your pants and runs a finger over your clothes slit.

“please” you grip his wrist and beg in hopes for him to stop, but he slaps it away, pinning them behind you with his other hand. he slides your panties down your legs and plays with your clit, circling the nub with his fingertips and watching as your expression changes from one of fear to pleasure.

“please what?” his breath shudders against your neck, where he nuzzles his head and finds comfort in your scent. he slowly inserts a finger into your hole, scanning your face and searching for any signs of discomfort, despite him practically forcing you into this position.

you’re not strong enough to answer him, too lost in the way his fingers feel inside you. you’d been too afraid to do anything by yourself, but god did it feel so good when you gave yourself up to him, slightly bucking your hips into his thrusting fingers and arching your back into his frame.

he’s fond of every little expression you make, the bite of your lips, the clench of your thighs around his hand, and the tilt of your head, willingly granting him access to the skin, all for him to mark, bite and suck. all for him to claim as his.

“d’ya like it?” he asks, putting another one of his fingers to use inside your tight walls, feeling them clench and suck his fingers back inside every time he was close to taking them out.

“yes! yes! i-i... mmh!” you can’t even finish the sentence, not only because you’re sobbing and clenching around his digits uncontrollably at the foreign yet pleasurable sensation, but also because his lips suddenly enclosed yours in a hungry kiss.

he didn’t even have to put up a fight with you, pleased to find you let him do whatever he wanted with your mouth. his tongue tangles with yours in a passionate clash of lips, until he pulls away at the feeling of your hips wildly bucking against his hand, a sign of your inevitable orgasm approaching.

“feels weird ‘samu! ‘s-‘samu please!” the implication of your sensations being new to you made his cock strained against his pants, threatening the thick fabric of his jeans to snap if he grew even harder. the tight knot in your stomach finally snaps when he curls his fingers, sending you into ecstasy as your vision blocked out and you moaned uncontrollably loud.

still, after everything, osamu hasn’t forgotten where he is, and he knows his shop isn’t a decent place to lose your virginity. so he puts you down with shaky legs and slips up your panties, catching you before your trembling thighs can treason you and make you fall.

“do ya have a car here?” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and puts a hand on your hip, guiding you over to the door which he locks before he continues to walk to his car. the dim lighting of the parking made this the perfect spot, if he were to fuck you in his car, no one would see it. but he has self control, or at least he tells himself that.

“no, my friend usually picks me up” he hums an answer and opens the passenger door to his car.

“i live a few minutes from here” he explains “wanna come over?” he asks, fully aware that he’s taking a leap of faith and you could just refuse him. but that’s not the case, and he’s more than happy to see you hesitantly get in his car and put your bag in your lap, covering yourself as much as you can since he ‘forgot’ to give you back your shorts.

the short ride to his house is awkwardly silent, and terribly torturous. his hand had found home in your thigh, and it had only sent an ache between your legs like you’d never felt before, prompting a clench from your thighs every so often.

he wasn’t lying, he only lived ten minutes away from his shop, but the distance seemed so much longer when his lingering touch would leave you high with the need for more.

“you ready?” he asks, holding the door open for you again as he waits for you to take his hand and get out of his car. he’s quick with hoisting you up and wrapping your thighs against his hips, carrying you to his doorway and leading the way to his room. there, he gently placed you on the bed and stripped off his clothing, taking off the apron he should’ve taken off at the shop, his shirt, his pants and—

“eager?” he can see the wanting look in your eyes, he’d be a fool not to notice it. his voice only startles you out of your thoughts, enough to make you stand up and take off your shirt as well, now fully exposed to him if it weren’t for the bra covering up your tits. there’s only so much he can hold back, but right now, with those pretty puppy eyes you unintentionally give him, he just can’t help it when he takes off your bra and slightly suckles at your nipple, circling his tongue around your perky nub and watching your face warm up in embarrassment.

he takes you to his bed again, this time while he plants kisses all over your neck. he’s hungry with the way he nips and bites at the skin, leaving a trail of teeth marks that would need to be covered up in the morning. in the morning, because right now, you couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else other than the way he rutted against you.

his cock already seemed big when he hadn’t taken off his briefs, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he slipped them off and rubbed his tip against your clit, right?

he was huge, thick tip dripping precum, with a girth that looked too big to be real, pulsing against your pussy. he positions it against your drooling hole, using your slick to lube up his tip and feeling— metal?

you sit up, leaning against your elbows to see the prince albert piercing that runs along his tip, metal jewelry threatening to slip into your pussy, but you put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“i-it won’t fit!” you kick and shake your thighs around him, only for him to put your ankles together and fold your legs over his shoulder, pinning you down and slipping in the pierced head of his cock. you wince and gasp at the sudden stretch, silenced by his mouth clashing against yours, eagerly nipping at your bottom lip, desperate to drink in all your saccharine moans.

“good girl” he praises, slipping in inch by inch of his cock into your tight virgin walls “fuck- this tight little cunt is suckin’ me in, want ma cock princess? yeah? gonna stuff ya full of me ‘til ya can’t even speak, you’ll just be a dumb baby for me”

“hurts!” your words only drive him closer to shoving himself in one smooth thrust, but he holds back, he sees how much you struggle to take barely half of him, he wants to make this good for you to. he wants to make your first time your best time, the one you’ll remember and think about if you ever fuck another man. he wants to mold your insides to fit his cock perfectly, he wants to train you to be his perfect little girl who won’t find another way to get off if she doesn’t have his cock, he wants you to depend on him to always make you feel good.

“‘s ok princess” he leans down, folding you into a mating press as he kisses your neck and slips in the last of his cock, covered in a thin layer of white sheen. “my good girl, creamin’ around me” he mumbles against your ear while he starts a slow pace into your pussy, carefully rutting his hips into you, almost afraid he would break you. “so pretty”

“please!” you sob, tears stream down your face despite his carefulness, it would break his heart, but he can feel the way your own body betrays you, clenching around him and pulling him in for more of the delicious sensation of his cock dragging against your walls. “so big! c-can’t take it!”

“sure ya can, look” he puts a hand to your tummy, guiding you to do the same as he puts his hand over yours. there’s a small bulge, that appears and disappears whenever he thrusts in and out. “you’re takin’ it so well princess, keep yer hand right there” his other hand starts working tight circles against your clit, making you throw back your head at the sudden sensation.

“no! if you do that i-!”

“what are ya gonna do? cum? clench around my cock like yer doin’ right now every time i praise ya?” you fist the sheets to your sides, anything to relieve the aching between your legs and the tight knot that keeps forming in your stomach again.

“please don’t!” you desperately paw at his wrist, only to be slapped away and for him to increase the speed of his cock, rutting into your with more force. suddenly, the head of his piercing hits a different spot, one that left you gasping for air and arching your back against the mattress. “ah! right there- right there ‘samu!”

“yeah? you like it when i fuck ya right there?” he parrots, angling his hips at the same spot over and over, abusing it until he’s sloppily thrusting into you, on the verge of cumming and spilling all his load into you. “my pretty girl, moanin’ like a bitch in heat, all because i’m makin’ ya feel good”

“yes ‘samu! please please, please m-make me feel good! wanna cum, please!” fresh tears roll down your cheeks as you scream and beg for him, unwillingly rutting your hips against him as you cum around his cock, your high too much for your sensitive body as you whine uncontrollably when he doesn’t stop. you’re too overstimulated to say a word, gone too dumb on his cock to even realize that you’re babbling little nonsense words about how good you feel, and how much you want him.

“dumb lil’ thing” he says, giving one sharp, final thrust before he empties his load between your legs, deep inside you, careful not to move you too much in fear of his cum spilling out of your clenching hole.

he’s right, you are a dumb little thing, because as soon as he pulls out you’re desperately bucking your hips, blindly searching for him in hope he would fill up the sudden emptiness in your pussy, unintentionally spilling all his hard work between your thighs.

“no!” he grunts, slapping your thigh and grounding you to the mattress as you wince in pain, dark color blossoming at the skin where he’d placed the spank. “look what you’ve done, bad fuckin’ girl” he says, the sudden tone shift sends a tinge of fear all over your body, and you’re reduced to nothing but a kin to a stray puppy, a terrible look of guilt in your eyes, even if you don’t realize what you’ve done wrong.

“look at the mess you made” he mumbles, flipping you over and placing ass up “now i’m gonna have to fill ya up all over again”

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