#we all need to stream it so it doesn’t get taken off

[atomicradiogirl]

NOBODY MOVE HOUSE IS BEING ADDED TO NETFLIX THIS MONTH EVERYONE PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR A RESURGENCE

#house md #i’m so ready #we need to make house relevant again #we all need to stream it so it doesn’t get taken off

[venusacrossthestars]

sharp or dull

pairing- Lando Norris x fem!reader

summary- Lando has begged you to stream with him, you will on one condition- it has to be an ASMR stream

wc- 1.7k

a/n: I wrote this in one sitting bc I cooked this up as a nighttime scenario, because I am an ASMR hoe, hope you enjoy! I also tried something a little new, I added the 'chat' section of the stream, you'll see what I mean. idk if I'm a fan of it or not.

f1 masterlist

Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response, or better yet known as ASMR, had taken TikTok, YouTube, and nearly every other social media platform by storm. To you, ASMR was a calming and relaxing way to unwind after a long day. And as an ASMR-artist you were constantly trying to find new ways to bring that experience to your viewers

Lando, however, could never understand the appeal of ASMR. He didn’t find it relaxing, calming, or anything of the sorts. He much preferred to fall asleep in pure silence, maybe the sound of a fan once in a while. While he didn’t understand it that didn’t mean he didn’t support you and your ‘art’. 

“Babeeee,” Lando whined. 

“What?” 

“Stream with me, pleaseeeee.” 

You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. Lando had been begging you for days to with him. Why? Well, when you asked him his exact words were, “Because I get lonely.”  And while you loved Lando, sitting there while he played whatever random game he could find just to keep him company, did not sound appealing. 

“Landoooo,” you draw out in response to his whining. 

“Baby please,” he begs again, “I’ll even let you choose what we do, I swear.” 

A lightbulb goes off in your head. “Anything?” 

“Yes?” He replies, curious to your response. 

Your face breaks out into a grin, “And you promise you’ll do it.” 

Lando takes a big gulp, “What are you planning woman?” 

“Promise?” You hold out your pinky and shake it at him, awaiting his answer. 

He takes your pinky in his, “Promise.” 

Its a week later when Lando is finally able to stream and you couldn’t be more excited. You still haven’t told your boyfriend of your plans. 

“Babe, what are we doing? I need to know so I can set up.” 

“Don’t worry about setting any of your games up. We are going to be doing something else,” You tell him. 

Lando shoots you a confused look, “Care to let me in that pretty head of yours.” 

You giggle, “Well since you said we can do anything of my choosing we will being doing an ASMR stream!” You throw out your hands excitedly. 

Lando looks less than thrilled, “No.” He says flatly. “I meant like you could pick out the game or a challenge. I am not doing ASMR.” 

“You should’ve specified the terms then Norris. And if I am remembering correctly you pinky promised on ‘anything’, can’t go back on that.” 

“Babe I'm not doing ASMR.” 

“Fine then you can stream by yourself.” You cross your arms across your chest and give Lando a pointed look, you were not backing down. 

“No.” 

“You wouldn’t even have to do anything! I would be doing all of it!” 

“No.” 

“Not even a head massage?” 

“No.” 

“Not even sharp or dull?” 

This is when you know you have him hooked. Lando can tell everyone that he doesn’t care for ASMR, that he doesn’t find it relaxing, all that jazz. But you know something they don’t. You know that this man is a sucker for the ‘sharp or dull’ genre of ASMR, and since Lando has sworn you to secrecy you were unable to share this juicy piece of information with the world. 

“... fine, I am only doing this because I love you.” 

As Lando was setting up the stream you were busy gathering your supplies that were spewed about Lando’s streaming room, which at times doubled as your recording studio when you filmed for your YouTube channel. 

Lando went live, muting his mic while being black-screened. You could see the comments flooding the chat:

landonorizzzzzzz- LANDO STREAMMMMMMM pizzaparty124003- about time!! we were in a drought! carlando4lifeeee- HE”S BACK FROM WARRRRR justaninchident- WE CAN”T SEE YOU papayaboyzzz- LANDOOOOOOOOO

Lando unmutes his mic, “I know you can’t see me chat.” 

You whack his arm, “Lando, be nice.” 

carlando4lifeeee- IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS???? landoandy/naremyparents- MOTHER IS HERE justaninchident- DEFEND ME MOTHER PLEASEEEEE sofishdicatedaf- OMG WE ARE GETTING A Y/N AND LANDO STREAM??

Lando finally turns on the camera and chat continues to lose their mind, “Yes chat, Y/N is here.” 

You wave at the camera, “Hiiiiiii!” 

“Do you want to tell them what we are doing today or do want me?” 

“I can tell them. Chat, today we are doing something I am a literal professional at.” Lando rolls his eyes, “Don’t roll your eyes at me mister, you begged me for a literal week to stream with you.” 

landoandy/naremyparents- HE BEGGED HER TO STREAM WITH HIM?!?!!  y/nismymotherfrfr- RELATIONSHIP GOALS papayaboyzzz- lol simppppppp

You glance at chat, laughing at their reaction, “Yes, he’s been begging for me to do this for a long time! I only agreed once he pinky promised that we could do whatever I want. And I chose,” you pause in suspense, “to do ASMR on my lovely boyfriend.” 

“Yay,” Lando says enthusiastically. 

“Stop. You are going to love it.” 

“If you insist.” 

You launch into explanation, “So as some of you know I run an ASMR account on YouTube and TikTok and today I’ll be doing a couple different ‘triggers’ on Lando.” 

“A couple? I only agreed to one,” he interrupts you. You shoot Lando a pleading look and it takes only a few seconds before he is admitting defeat. “Fine, only a couple though.” He glances at the screen where the chat is displayed, “Call me a simp all you want, at least I have a girlfriend to simp over.” 

“Chat, don’t mind him, he only found out what I wanted to do like 20 minutes ago. But as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted is that I’ll be doing a couple different ‘triggers’ that are pretty popular amongst my audience such as- sharp or dull, head massage, hair brushing.” 

After your explanation you get up from your seat and gather your supplies as Lando messes with the camera and mic. 

“Lan, can you scooch back just a tad?”

“Hmm? Oh, of course baby.” 

“Thank you,” you give him a small kiss on the crown of his head.

“So I am going to start of with the head massage and hair brushing first,” you explain to chat, moving to speak in your softer, slower tone that you use while filming, “Then for the grand finale I’ll do the sharp or dull.” 

Lando always turned to putty when you played with his hair, you weren’t expecting this to be any different, well minus the fact that a bunch of fans were watching. At first you weren’t sure if the mic was even picking up on any of noise but one quick glance at chat seemed that they were all enjoying it. For multiple reasons, you were sure of it. 

After five-or-so minutes of head scratching you decide to check in on your completely silent boyfriend. “Still doing okay baby?” You ask, voice nearly a whisper. 

“Yeah, I’m doing great,” Lando response at full Lando volume. 

papayaboyzzz- MY EARSSSSSS sofishdicatedaf- tell me why I had my volume all the way up and this man decided to talk FULL VOLUME WHAT THE HELL LANDO ass-mr- this man has no idea how to asmr asmrismycrack- no bc why? his gf is literally an asmr PRO

You chuckle at the comments, “Baby you have to be quiet.” 

“What? Why?” He turns around, looking at you confused. 

“Because having people talk loudly, or practically screaming in your case, isn’t really relaxing to listen to.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Lando drops his voice to a much quieter tone, giving you a sheepish smile. 

“That’s okay baby.”

You go move through a couple other triggers, and around the 20-minute mark you decided to wrap things up, “Ok, since I don’t want to bore all of you we are going to move onto the sharp or dull. Then, I don’t know, maybe a Q and A or something.” 

Once again you explain the sharp or dull concept to Lando and the chat, “By the way chat this is Lando’s favorite genre.” 

“Lies, I don’t watch ASMR.” 

“You’re the only one telling lies. You love sharp or dull ASMR, it’s the only one you watch.” 

“Babeeee,” Lando whines, “You were sworn to secrecy.” 

You shrug your shoulders, “Whoops.” 

“Now no one will think I’m cool.” 

“I don’t think you needed any help with that.” Lando looks at you offend that you would say such a thing, you grab his head and turn his face back to the camera. “Okay close your eyes and tell me if this is sharp or dull,” 

You alternate between poking Lando's face with the Q-tip or the toothpick that you have in your hand. Lando gets every guess correct but as you go on you can tell by how his voice gets quieter that he is getting more and more tired. Maybe doing this stream late at night wasn't the best idea. 

“Ok, I think that’s enough.” 

Lando groans at his cut off, “Chat I don’t think I’m gonna make it.” 

You giggle at his sleepiness, “Next time we can do something you want, but for now I think it’s time for bed.”

Lando hums in agreement, “Goodnight everyone! Thanks for tunning in!” 

You wave at the camera, “Goodnight!!” 

Lando shuts down the stream along with his PC and slumps in his chair, “What did you do to me. I’m ready to pass out.” 

“It’s the magic of ASMR.” 

“Fine, I guess it was the magic of ASMR,” Lando sighs out.

“Does that mean you like it now?” You ask, pulling him out of his chair. 

Lando collapses against you, his arms wrap around you as the two of you waddle towards the bathroom. “I only like it when you do it. That’s it.” 

“I’ll take it.” 

The two of you brush your teeth in silence, you watch as Lando can barely keep his eyes open. His sleepiness at your ASMR was a compliment in the highest regards. Lando reattaches himself to your back as you make your way into your shared bedroom. 

As you climb under the covers and reposition yourself in Lando’s arms you can feel his breathing steady out. 

“Babe?” He whispers. 

“Lan?” 

“You meant what you said?” 

“Meant what?” 

“That we could do whatever I want next time you come and stream with me?” 

“Well, anything within reason.” 

“Promise,” Lando wiggles his pinky.

“Promise,” you whisper back, interlocking his pinky with yours.

taglist- (crosses out names mean I couldn't tag you)

@arieslost @customsbyjcg-blog @gr1mes-cc @styl1shl1v @landoscardotcom @poppyflower-22 @blancastans @katiezdiarysblog @mrsstylez @jamieeboulos @xfuckoffx @motkanykodas @emi0358 @ab-127 @alrightysyaphrodite @sya-skies @liacoresstuff @leathersuitrry @travelingece1995 @kageyamas-milk @ugfuchvvvz @jupooo @alex0808 @caleysblog @jess-wither @cassymendezz164445 @rattiefattie69 @sadisticfries @lou-larcher5 @harrietstylinson7 @inlovewithdeadboys @rickyrivera11 @cleverpeachheropersona @loveyatopluto @elysyannemimi @arayofsunshineme @lilyevanswhore @slaygirlbossworld @jupooo @heyheyheyggg @eringaitskill

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #lando norris #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 #mclaren

[sharkorok]

all eyes on you (enhypen)

or the moments that make everyone think you’re dating

cw/genre: idol!reader, reader doesnt have specified gender but implied to be a female, fluff, so cute bye, secret relationships, humor, u have delulu fans

requested: naurrr

a/n: ehe thx for 100 followers :) I hope my writing makes u happy because knowing people read my works makes me super duper happy! luv uuuu

•-•-•-•-•-•

heeseung

-at an awards show your outfits were matching, like very obviously matching

-matching bracelets, you had one on your left wrist and he had one on the right, the colors matched each other, same style and aesthetic…

-he gets v nervous but also you were in some dating rumors with another idol so…he wouldn’t be mad if he was next tbh….BUT THEN UR GROUP WAS ASSIGNED NEXT TO HIM??

-dawg was sweating the whole time trying not to admire you and how cute you two looked

-but no every one of those “enhypen mma reaction” or “heeseung reaction focus” showed him very clearly staring at you 😭, twt had a field day with you two

-he can’t help it, you looked so good and how can he keep his eyes off his lovely s/o when they’re all dressed up + matching?? seriously his management was insane for putting him so close to you

-and when all groups were leaving he was seen literally sprinting to be closer to you

-ya dispatch didn’t even need to confirm anything after that awards show

the others r below!

jay

-during a live he got his guitar out and started playing all your favorite songs

-and this was literally a day after you named your favorite songs

-then to make it worse he was like “yeah these are y/n’s favorite songs don’t they have good music taste?” and then he kept talking about you and staff was sweating while watching istg

-the way he talked about you tho,,he either had a massive crush on you or you two were dating

-the ship edits the next day were insane honestly some of your fans need to get into the editing business because you genuinely believed a photo of him holding your waist was taken at inkigayo

-he doesn’t even try to hide how much he likes you istg, he goes out of his way to talk to you at awards shows and always films challenges with you, he gives the shippers so much content

-then another time jay cooked your favorite food in a vlog and specifically said it was your favorite food, name dropping and everything

-literally no one is surprised that you two are confirmed dating after a while.

jake

-accidentally went on live while talking about you

-he fully believed he closed out of the app when he was talking to jay and saying stuff like, “I’m really excited to see her at the performance, I hope we have time to hang out…” and then he hears notifications and sees that he was streaming and he nearly faints

-plays it off like he fully intended for everyone to hear that and continues like he planned on going live

-he’s also trying to hide the way his eyes flickered up to your rapid texts being like, “JAKE WHY ARE WE TRENDING ON TWITTER??”

-jay is behind the camera just trying not to laugh becuz how do you even recover from this one, literally all the comments are talking about you and him

-“y/n…? yeah ahahah I know her uh huh mhm anyways moving on” and his horrible deflecting skills are making it even more obvious

-and when you go on live?? oh u bet the comments are “did you see jake’s recent live?? are u cheating on us y/n?”

-u desperately distract by spoiling your comeback but there’s already 14k Tik toks analyzing every interaction you had with Jake and why you two are cosmically intertwined

sunghoon

-describes you to a T when asked about his ideal type

-he meant to just mention the broad details but he gets excited talking about u ok :(

-“yeah a good heart and around (your exact height), with (the hex code of your eye color) eyes, born on (your birthday), hobbies include (every single one of your hobbies) and also…(literally all the information under your kprofiles page)”

-ur fans catch on and are like “isn’t this literally y/n” and he’s like “omg nooo coincidence”

-it is NOT a coincidence bro he was fully thinking of you and only you during that interview

-anyways you don’t help the situation by describing him too when asked about your ideal type, but ur at least a tad less obvious 😭

-“yea I love guys who ice skate and stuff”

-u two definitely get scolded by management

sunoo

-sometimes he forgets to care about keeping things secret (like that lipton tea thing he did)

-so he’s showing fans his camera roll and he shows selfies you never posted before…in his camera roll…never before seen by anyone but him and you to the camera and is like

-“y/n’s visual is so perfect, right?”

-and yeah duh ur stunning and gorgeous but fans are distracted by your beauty for a second before being like “hm…how did he get those selfies and why r they in his camera roll”

-ur fans r thankful for the content tho so he kinda did everyone a favor

-but it’s a LITTLE suspicious…but neither of you address anything so it just festers a little

-until you two do a tik tok challenge together and he captions it with a heart emoji like oh my god 😭

-you’re not innocent either when you said “sunoo’s visual is so amazing” like both of you get some media training I beg

-everyone loves how obviously whipped you two are for each other tho :,)

jungwon

-accidentally exposes your polaroid in his phone case

-thankfully he has photos of his members and maeum but why were you there??

-he completely ignores it tbh he shows the photos to the camera and is like “these r the polaroids in my phone case. anyways.” n he’s playing it cool but internally he’s PANICKING

-“hopefully they didn’t see the heart I drew on the Polaroid,” he thinks foolishly

-we did.

-so you try to do some damage control on your own live when asked about why he has ur photo in his phone and ur like “oh we’re really close friends!!”

-n honestly that’s a good and healthy response because everyone has the right to their platonic relationships

-but jungwon’s heart he drew on your Polaroid was just a little bit tooooo suspicious…anyways this leads to fans over-analyzing every single interaction to the point you two weren’t allowed to be seen in a ten foot proximity at events for a while

-but at least it reminded jungwon to be more careful lolol

niki

-accidentally rizzes you up on live television

-you’re an mc for smth and you’re interviewing enhypen and you’re like, “oooh, some burning questions, what is your ideal type?”

-and Niki, with no hesitation fully goes, “you lol” and you see ur career flash before your eyes

-ur co mc is nervously laughing and niki realizes like oh wait we’re being broadcasted so he’s like “oh just kidding haha!!!” even though you two are making awkward eye contact while you’re mentally scolding him

-he’s so used to teasing and flirting with you in private so it’s a little hard to shake off in public

-anyways fans notice he’s looking at you a little too lovingly and being a little too genuine when he responded so it’s not long before you see ship edits on Twitter and tik tok

-doesn’t help when you answer the ideal type question with “someone who is playful and funny” thinking it was broad enough but ‘twas not <3

-he doesn’t really care too much but thought it was funny, even if he had to take a media training class again afterwards >:T

#enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enha fluff #enha imagines #enhypen headcanons #enhypen reactions

[scarlethexelove]

I Did

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2261

Warnings: Mentions of torture, scars, mean tony. Nothing much else.

A/n: I want to give credit to Dolls.mcu.editz on tiktok where I saw the edit that gave me this idea. So after asking for a poll of who this should be with I made this. Starts a bit angsty but it is super fluffy at the end. Soft Natasha and Wanda 🥰 Hope you all enjoy.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You sit in the meeting room surrounded by all of the Avengers. On either side of you are Natasha and Wanda, your girlfriends. The conversation that is happening is making you uncomfortable to say the least. They are all talking about what is to be done if one of you is captured and possibly tortured by hydra or another entity. What would be protocols and procedures that need to be followed during and after the event. You’re quiet throughout and don’t add anything. Tony notices this and doesn’t appreciate that you are not contributing to the conversation. 

“Y/n do you have anything to add?” Tony questions a bit of malice in his words. “I would rather not.” You reply, sinking more into your seat. Wanda placing a hand on your thigh in comfort. “You always have something to add so why don’t you actually contribute to the discussion.” He pushes. You scoff and look him dead in the eye. “You would not hold up well under torture.” You calmly spoke back to him. “Oh and you would?” He raises his voice. “I did!” You just about yell back to him. 

Tony pauses a moment. Tears shine in your eyes as memories flash in your mind reminding you how you even got here. You don’t notice the sad looks around you from your fellow avengers. “Y/n I didn’t mean-” Tony is cut off by you. “Save it.” You mumble as you push your seat back and quickly make your way out of the room. Your ears ringing with the memories of your life before. You can’t even hear that people are calling after you. 

Tears start to stream down your face as you quickly keep walking. You feel a burning sensation in your skin as you become overwhelmed. The scars that scatter your body make it feel as if they are open wounds again. The pain and memories still flood in as your body moves on autopilot back to your room. 

Natasha and Wanda quickly rise and try to start following you. “Where do you think you are going? We aren’t done with setting these protocols.” Tony quickly jumps back in as your girlfriends try to go after you. Both of them turn around specks of red swirling in Wanda’s eyes as Natasha clenches her fist. “We are going to see if our girlfriend is ok. I don’t really care what you have to say right now.” Natasha spits back her anger with the man clear to everyone in the room. 

“You can check on her later. We need to get these set.” Tony still protests. Natasha slams her hands on the table, a small crack forming where her hands hit the glass table. “Listen here tin man you insulted our girlfriend. I don’t care what you decide, we are going to comfort her.” The room is tense as there is a staring contest between the two. “Well she started it.” He comes back still trying to defend himself when everyone in the room believes him to be in the wrong. 

Wanda tilts her head and red swirls in her hand. “Tony, you have no clue what she has been through. You may have been captured and held but you were never tortured. Natasha was raised and trained as an assassin against her will. Bucky was taken and experimented on as they constantly brainwashed him. I was experimented on and locked in a cell.” Wanda seethes, pointing towards the living quarters. “But she was experimented on, locked in rooms, tortured for days on end. Cut up just for fun, you have no fucking clue. So if you will excuse me we are leaving and you can fuck off.” Wanda grabs Natasha’s hand and they walk out of the room. Everyone in the room is left in show of the revelation. The only other person who is not shocked is Bucky, your best friend.

The two hear arguing ensue as they walk away towards your shared bedroom. They lightly knock on the door to not scare you but they hear no movement so they slowly open the door. They slowly enter the room but don’t see you but they see the bathroom door open. Light shines out and the sound of water pelting the tile floor is heard. “Detka.” Wanda calls out for you as they make their way into the bathroom but hear no response. 

Wanda and Natasha enter the bathroom, their eyes landing on your form sitting in the shower, your knees pulled tightly to your chest. You're still in your clothes and shoes as the water beats down on you. Natasha quickly moves to you going around you to your right side crocheting down as the water hits her. Wanda moving to your left side. They give each other a look and look back to you. You’re staring off into space, your body slightly rocking. Both women know that sometimes in stressful times your mind plays back what happened to you. Not just your mind but your body has a physical reaction. 

“Detka can I touch you?” Natasha asks. You don’t respond. She slowly reaches out for you and gently touches your arm. You jump lightly to the contact and she pulls back, but then you give a small nod for her to continue. She reaches out again and places her hand on your back gently rubbing comforting circles. “Detka may I?” Wanda asks and you also give her a nod. She smiles and follows Natasha’s lead. 

“What can we do to help sweetheart?” Wanda asks you. You finally look over to her and she can see past the water that trails down your face that you are crying, your eyes red and puffy. You open your mouth trying to speak but nothing comes out. Your eyes telling Wanda what you want her to do. “Are you sure detka?” She questions before proceeding. You lightly nod at her. She smiles. “Okay.”

Her hand goes to your head as red fills her eyes and red whisps come from her fingers. She lets what words you can’t say fill her mind before pulling her hand back, her eyes turning back to their beautiful shade of green. She gives you a soft smile and small nod. She then looks up to Natasha who is watching the interaction. 

“Her scars are burning and her clothes are overwhelming.” Natasha nods at Wanda’s words. They both work together taking off your shirt as you raise your arms. Natasha then moves in front of you. She takes off your shoes and socks, tossing them into the bathroom to deal with later. Wanda has removed your undershirt and bra tossing it with the rest. Working together again they work to remove your pants and underwear. You lift your hips to make it slightly easier on them. 

Wanda gently runs her hand down your arm. “Do you want me to try and help?” She gently asks you. “Please.” You mumble lightly. She kisses your head. “Of course. Which ones hurt?” She asks you. “Big ones.” You tell her. She knows which ones you mean. Her hand going to your left side the scar runs from just under your breast down to your mid thigh. Red comes from her fingers as it seeps down into the scar. The burn slowly fades as you feel her magic calming the nerves. Her hand moves to your right shoulder covered in a large burn scar repeating her action. She then moves to your left thigh a large circular scar doing as she has done with the other two. Your nerves calming as the burning and pain disappear. “Better?” She asks you.

You give her a nod. “Thank you.” You tell her finally, letting your body relax as you lean into Natasha. Her arms wrap around you. “No need to thank me detka.” Wanda leans in kissing your forehead. 

“Do you want to get cleaned up in the shower and get in bed?” Natasha asks you. “Mhmm.” Your reply comes in a hum. So that is what you all do. They help you up before they take off their clothes. Throwing them into the pile already on the floor. Gently washing your body and hair. 

You love the close moments with your girlfriends. Nothing sexual about it, it is just full of love and caring as they take care of you. They quickly clean themselves before helping you out of the shower. Since you have already been sensitive and overwhelmed Wanda uses her magic to dry you three off. The feeling of her warm magic eloping you and calming your nerves even more. 

Natasha picks you up. Your legs wrap around her waist and you bury your head in her neck as she carries you to bed. “My strong and tough super soldier.” Natasha chuckles as you whine into her neck. Which just causes her to chuckle more and you to poke at her side. “Heyyy.” She says. Wanda giggling at your two antics. 

 Wanda walks around to the other side getting into the bed. She moves the covers and opens her arms as Natasha places you into Wanda’s open arms. You instantly wrap around her and lay your head on your chest. Natasha crawls into the bed behind you wrapping her arms around your waist and cuddling into your back. She places small light kisses on your shoulder causing you to smile. Wanda then peppering your face with kisses which then causes you to giggle. 

“There is my sweet girl.” Wanda smiles down at you as you nuzzle into her chest. The room becomes silent as you relax into your girlfriends. The skin to skin contact is doing wonders for you. Letting you feel a closeness that you wouldn’t get with clothes on. 

Natasha kisses your shoulder again. “Marry me?” Natasha breaks the silence in the room. You look up to Wanda before turning to look at Natasha. Not sure if this is just in the heat of the moment or a true proposal. Natasha smiles before letting go of your turn and reaching into the drawer of her bedside table. She pulls out two small velvet boxes. “Wanda Maximoff and Y/n Y/l/n will you two do me the honor of becoming my wifes?” Natasha asks opening the boxes to show off two gorgeous rings. Each of them is set in silver with a beautiful garnet as the center stone and surrounded by smaller black diamonds. You can’t help but cry in happiness as you and Wanda answer in unison. “Yes!”

The three of you are now crying, happy to be taking a step forward in your relationship. “I was planning to do some crazy romantic gesture for you two but this moment just seemed too perfect to pass. I wanted you two to know how much I love you and that I would fight to the ends of the earth to keep you safe.” Natasha says through happy tears as you and Wanda cry harder. She places the rings on your fingers. 

You kiss Natasha hard and filled with love before pulling back and kissing Wanda. Wanda then leans over you and gives Natasha a kiss. Wanda then chuckles and shakes her head a bit. “What?” Natasha asks. Wanda says nothing as she gets up and walks towards the dresser and opens her sock drawer. You whine when her body heat leaves you. “I’ll be right back detka.” Wanda chuckles. 

You can’t see what she grabs as she turns and hides what she has behind her back. She walks back to the bed and climbs back in next to you. “Great minds think alike I guess.” Wanda says, pulling two more velvet boxes from behind her back. She opens them revealing similar rings that have a ruby at its center and diamonds surrounding it.  

Natasha behind you chuckles. “I guess so.” She says. “So Natasha Romanoff and Y/n Y/l/n will you marry me?” Wanda asks. You and Natasha laugh before saying yes to her. Wanda places one ring on Natasha’s finger the other she holds out for you not exactly knowing what to do with it since you have one on already. “I can wear both.” You proudly say before putting it above the other one. “Y/n/n that isn’t going to work.” Natasha laughs at your antics. 

“Wait, I have an idea.” Wanda gets back up and goes over to her jewelry box. You hear her digging through before pulling something out. She walks back to you and holds out her hand. You place the ring in her hand. She then reveals a necklace. She puts the ring on the necklace before motioning for you to turn. You turn around and Wanda secures the chain holding the ring around your neck. You smiled, placing your hand on the ring before turning back and kissing her again. 

As the excitement wears down a bit you three settle back into the bed relaxing. “I love you both so much and can’t wait to be your wife and for you two to be mine.” You say snuggled between the woman. “We love you too.” Both women say at the same time and kiss each of your cheeks. 

This day turned from a horrible day of overwhelming panic and pain into one of the best days of your life and you couldn’t be more happy than to be alive in this moment. Holding onto the loving memory forever and excited for what your future will hold.

#wanda maximoff fic #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff #wandanat #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff comfort #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female #wanda maximoff x female reader #natasha x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda fluff #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x wanda #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff fanfic

[ragingbookdragon]

Someday We'll Be All That We Need

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: I made a new friend so I made that friend a fic. @temeyes <3 -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Other than the shivering, Simon doesn’t so much as twitch in the corner they’re huddled in. She’s cold herself, but nothing feels as terrifying as losing the man wedged in between her thighs, head resting against her chest. The bleeding has stopped though, the bullet wound plugged well enough that him exsanguinating is the least of her worries—it’s the ever-dropping temperature and the broken-down cabin that scares her.

It was thirty degrees Fahrenheit when the mission started; the last reading was ten and dropping. The cabin they’d taken shelter in was worn down, broken windows and missing ceiling allowing streams of frigid winter air and snow to fall in and continue to chill their bones. Simon had sealed his wound and managed to stay awake but with the blood loss he’d suffered and the stress, fatigue had set in, and that’s when she’d found herself curled up in the corner with the emergency blanket from her kit wrapped around his torso, his body wedged up against hers, trying to conserve energy and heat.

The comms had gone down, Simon’s radio busted in a skirmish of hand to hand with an enemy, and she had only managed to get one SOS out before the line cut off. They were alone in the middle of enemy territory, in a temperature-dropping environment, wounded and unable to call for help. Her worst fears were coming alive.

She swallowed thickly, shaking the thoughts away, and readjusted her grip on Simon, jostling him awake in the process. “Alrigh’, love?” he murmured lowly, tongue lazy and slow; he only called her love when they were alone and serious.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “You?”

“Back’s killin’ me.”

She huffed a laugh. “I bet it is. You’re folded like a pretzel.”

Simon shifted, or tried to, and rested his head on her shoulder. “How long’s it been since I feel asleep?”

“Maybe an hour?” she blinked, looking around the room; snow was beginning to pile up where the holes in the ceiling dropped to the floor. “I haven’t really been paying attention to the time.”

“Hmm.” He breathed into her neck. “I can’t feel my toes.”

Her eyes shifted to his feet, and she let out a breath, a mixture of shock and fear. “How bad is it?”

“Bad,” he admitted. “‘s bad, love. Spreading up.”

“Motherfucker,” she laughed in disbelief and wrapped her arms tighter around him. “Price heard the SOS. He’s coming, okay? Just…just keep it together until then.”

Simon swallowed thickly; his eyes still shut as he nudged her neck with his mask-covered nose. “Got a safety deposit box back in Manchester,” he muttered. “Key’s in my nightstand back at base.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Got ‘bout five-hundred thousand pounds in’it.” He shifted again as if trying to get into her skin to be warmer. “Deed to a property in Herefordshire. Got it a few years ago when I was staying with Price.”

“Simon, stop,” she warned—she knew exactly what he was doing.

“Want you to get out and go live there. You’ve served long enough to get pension. You’ll be set for the rest of your life out there.”

“No. Not without you I won’t.”

He shook his head. “I don’ think I’m comin’ back, love. Not this time.”

“Don’t say that,” she stressed, turning her face to his. “They’re coming. We’ll be okay.”

Simon didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Want you to buy one of those big black Corso’s. Name her Morrigan. Let her take care of you and the land.”

Tears began to gather in her eyes. “You’re a bastard,” she whispered. “Quit it.”

“I want you to listen. I want you to be taken care of. I want—”

“I want you alive,” she cut off. “Now shut up and save some energy.”

Simon cracked an eye open and simply gazed at her. “I love you. I know I didn’ say it enough. ‘m sorry, love.”

She clenched her jaw against the wave eating her chest inside out and inhaled deeply. “Simon, stop and rest. I won’t say it again.”

He let his eyes close and laid his head back down. “Alright, love.”

***

It was at least another two hours before noise echoed outside, and it drew her from a slumber she hadn’t realized she was in; she jolted up, Simon jostling with her. “Simon,” she whispered. “Someone’s outside.” He didn’t respond to her, and she pulled away, looking at him. “Simon?” he was asleep, unresponsive to any of the stimuli around him. “Fuck, Simon?” the noise outside grew louder, and she pushed past her fear and shifted from under him, tucking him against the wall as she grabbed her gun and rose to her feet.

Kneeling down, she put a hand against his face. “I’ll be back, okay? I promise.” She swallowed. “I’m coming right back, Simon.”

She rose again and headed for the door, cracking it open and slipping outside as a vehicle pulled up; tucking behind the railing, she breathed deeply and lifted her head, catching sight of a few men exiting.

Before she could even raise her weapon, she heard, “Contact!”

Ducking again, she cocked her rifle and listened as the others did the same, obviously hiding behind shelter themselves. It had to be the rest of that enemy squad that she failed to take out when Simon got injured. Fuck, she only had one mag left and she was running on fumes herself. She had to be quick. She had to be careful. She had—

“Identify yourself, or we will shoot!”

Wait, that sounded like—

“I will not say it again! Identify yourself or—”

“Price!” she called and peeked over the railing. “Price, it’s me! It’s me!”

Soap and Gaz appeared on the other side of the SUV. “Athena?”

She felt tears gather in her eyes as she stood up and lowered her gun. “Holy shit, I’ve never been so glad to see you guys.”

Price stopped in front of her, pulling her into a quick hug. “Good to see you. Where’s Simon?”

Simon.

Her heart dropped. “Fuck.” She turned on her heel and sprinted back into the cabin and to the corner, the men on her heels; she got to him first and dropped to her knees, shaking him. “Simon! Simon, wake up!”

He didn’t move.

“Simon!” she called again, lifting her cold fingers to his neck. Whether it was her own anxiety or him, she couldn’t feel a thing and she started panicking. “I can’t get a pulse!” she turned to them. “I can’t wake him up!”

Soap pulled her back as Price and Gaz got to work and she thrashed in his arms. “LET GO!”

“Lass, calm down!”

“LET GO! SIMON!” she screamed, her own vision beginning to haze, exhaustion weighing taking its toll.

“We’ve gotta start compressions,” she heard Gaz say and he looked at Price. “He’s not going to make it back if we don’t do something now.”

Price looked back. “Soap, get her in the SUV, we’ll prep Simon for transport.”

“Aye, sir,” Soap said and hefted her up against her thrashing.

“NO! I’M NOT LEAVING HIM BEHIND! LET GO OF ME GODDAMNIT!”

“Lass, you can’t help him even if you wanted to.”

Her body felt like lead and she felt her limbs going numb as her breathing kicked into a wildness, head light and heavy all at the same time. She kept trying to get out of his arms when Price tossed a syringe his way, and a prick to her arm drew blackness into all sides of her gaze, the last thing she saw was Gaz yanking open Simon’s gear to press his hands to his chest.

***

There was an impossibly annoying beeping going off on the side of Simon’s bed and she had half a mind to kick him in his hip and gripe at him to turn it off; she managed to mumble something akin to it but when the beeping didn’t stop, she managed with great effort to crack her eyes open, only to be met with the sterile walls of a medical room.

It all came back in an instant and she sat up straight, yanking the IV out of arm, the oxygen tube from her nose, rolling from the bed. Her knees kissed the floor and pain seared up her legs as she scrambled for the door, only to fall again, but she crawled on her hands and knees to the handle. Lifting herself, she pulled the door open and leaned heavily on the wall of the hallway as she stumbled down, looking in every room for her lover.

“Simon!” she called weakly; the mission had taken its toll on her. She was weak, far beyond her own capacity and she was barely standing as it was. “Simon!” she yelled again, and Soap stuck his head out from a door about five doors down.

“Athena? Holy shite, you shouldn’t be up!” he made it to her, trying to help her, but she pushed past him.

“Where’s Simon?”

“Love, you need to go back to—”

“WHERE IS HE!”

Soap recoiled and recovered, gently wrapping his arm around her. “He’s down here. Still asleep.” His grip was steel. “I’ll take you to him.”

“I can—”

“You either let me help or I take you back to your room.”

She fell silent and let him, that was until she turned the corner of Simon’s room, and darted from his arms, barely managing to avoid face-planting into the hospital bed railing as she clambered onto the bed with the man.

“Simon?” she whispered, grabbing his face in her hands; he was so warm now. Tears seeped down her cheeks. “Simon, sweetheart?” she said again, pressing her head to his chest to feel his steady heartbeat thumping beneath; a choked sound of happiness escaped her, and she looked at Soap. “He’s alive.”

He smiled at her. “Yeah, love, he’s alive.”

“He’s okay?”

“Eh, we’re a little worried about his toes, but so far yeah.”

She buried her face in Simon’s chest, crying into the gown he wore, and grabbed one of his hands; she squeezed it tightly, relief flooding her as his fingers tightened around hers in his sleep.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader imagines #simon ghost riley x reader imagine #simon ghost riley imagines #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader imagines #simon riley x reader imagine #simon riley imagines #simon riley imagine #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x reader imagines #ghost x reader imagine #ghost imagines #ghost imagine #ghost #cod imagines #cod imagine #cod #call of duty imagines #call of duty imagine #call of duty

[wosoamazing]

Injured

warnings: vomit, injury

A/N: just a kind of random short fic, I hope you like it.

The throbbing in your head continues to worsen, your head feels like it’s going to explode with every beat of your heart. You feel sick to your stomach. Each tiny little movement in your body makes your stomach roll. Your ankle hurts, it’s almost definitely broken,  the medics have given Sam and Steph the Green Whistle to hold for you hoping you would use it but you have flatly refused it so far. The sick feeling in your stomachs starts to worsen, you lean the rest of your body weight into Sam in hopes it will help somehow, but it doesn’t, your face changes, a face Sam doesn’t recognise but Steph does, she quickly jumps into action.

“Do you have a bowl or something?” Steph asks the medics “She’s going to be sick,” to those words the medics swiftly hand her an emesis bag, and place a few more beside her just encase. You start to gag, as Steph brings the bag up to your mouth, you clearly in no state to hold it yourself, Sam rubs your back as you gag a few more times but nothing comes up, you let out a little whimper as you collapse back into Sam’s body. Tears start to roll down your checks and Steph rubs your arm in an effort to reassure you. You see the bright orange stretcher being carried on and your universe breaks, you have made it your mission not to have to use one but today you have no choice, even you know you need it, and to make everything worse Leah’s not here, maybe you should’ve chosen the Lionesses, in this moment it would’ve meant that you had your sister next to you. Your body starts to shake from your sobs, you try to speak but it doesn’t work. “Hey, hey, it’s okay take some deep breaths.” Steph says, you take four depth breaths following Steph’s lead.

“Le-Leah, I want Leah” you cry out.

“I know bug, but she can’t come right now, what if we face time her once we are in the medical room” you nod slightly at Steph’s suggestion.

“Okay we’re going to move you onto the stretcher now” one of the medics inform you, with quite a lot of pain and not much ease you were taken through to the medical suite, the medics did some scans before they took you to your team medical room in the back of the locker room. Steph sits behind you on the bed as you lean your weight into her, a boot wraps around your foot, tears stream down your face, to put it lightly the x-rays were not a fun time at all, although Steph and Sam might’ve had it worse, they stood outside the room as they heard you sob in pain wanting nothing more than to be in there with you comforting you, but they weren’t allowed too.

“Here she is,” Sam says as she walks back in.

“Hey bug how are you?” a familiar voice warms your ears. You don’t reply just smile which is enough for her, the familiar sound of her voice relaxes you as you doze off, Sam and Steph talk to her for a while before saying their goodbyes. The peaceful feeling in the room quickly evaporates when you wake up, you gag and Steph and Sam react quickly, Steph helps you sit up more and Sam grabs the emesis bag, but it’s too late, the contents of you stomach are all over you, the bed and unfortunately some is even on Steph, you burst into tears, which doesn’t help the situation as somehow you’re sick again, this time though Sam managed to catch it. Once the pair are happy, you’re okay and not going to be sick again, Sam goes to get a medic, and Steph leans you back into her, helping you take of your now vomit covered shirt. “S-Sorry” you cry out feeling terrible for what just happened. “Hey, its okay, it’s not your fault, you got hurt, okay?” you nod, which wasn’t the best idea as it starts to make the room spin. “Do you want to have a shower now? We can help, we’ll keep you in your undies and crop top” you give Steph a thumbs up.

Sam returns with a medic, “sorry” she says as they enter.

“There is nothing to be sorry about, this is nothing, I’ve seen patients do way worse” the medic replies.

“Um we were thinking of maybe getting a shower, is that okay, we will go in with her” Steph asks the medic, who smiles at her “Of course darling, just take the boot off and carry her down will probably be easiest. As she is alert and orientated, so I’m no too concerned about the vomiting, as it could be from the pain she is in,”

“Okay thank you.” Sam says to the medic.

“Okay, I’m going to slide out from behind you and Sam is going to take your boot off and I’ll pick you up and take you to the showers, okay” Steph lets you know their every move. “Thank-you” you whisper in her ear as she carries you, getting you showered wasn’t the hard part but getting you dressed was, after your shower Sam took over so Steph could have a quick shower, as much as you adored Sam the loss of the constant and familiar reassurance made you whimper, you sat in your locker while Sam put your boot on. Sam was about to help you move over to the bench in the locker room so you could be comfier when Steph came out of her record fast shower.

“Hey Sam,” Sam looked up, “I’m all done, I’ve got her now, go get a shower quickly then we can get on the bus before the rest come in” Sam nods. Steph picks you up and cradles you in her lap, and you start to doze off, Steph is relieved as she knows if you’re asleep you can’t feel the pain, she shots a quick message to Tony updating him and not long after Sam comes out. Sam gets all three of your bags packed up and they start to head out, Steph carrying you, Sam carrying all your stuff, they’re walking along the corridor when Steph suddenly stops.

“Steph, what’s wrong?”

“Do you have sunnies?”

“Um yeah I think I actually do,” she rummages through her bag and manages to find a pair, she slips them onto your face, and they start walking again.

They manage to climb onto the bus and into a set of seats, Steph sitting with her back against the window of the bus with you in her lap, leaning back on her. They are a set of four from the front as they know when the rest of the girls get on the bus it will be loud, not because of the girls but because of the press.

This time Sam messages Tony letting him know you’re on the bus and asking if he can get the girls to stay silent while they enter.

Just as Tony messages to let the girls know the game is finished and that the others are just having quick showers and they will be there soon, you wake up to an all familiar feeling, however this time your captains are prepared and know the signs, so Steph notices you and quickly holds up the emesis bag for you, in which you are relieved that you do not have to relive the events of earlier, once you are finished you start to cry, you hate being sick, Steph wraps her free arm around you trying to comfort you, Sam hands Steph a new emesis bag and takes the old one, she leaves the bus in order to find a bin in which she does and returns at the same time the girls start to show up. Sam again asks them to be quiet as the enter which they are more than happy to do for their little teammate, as they get on the bus, they all smile softly at you, not wanting to speak just encase, Harper gave you a very gentle hug as she boarded the bus with her Mum, which warmed everyone’s hearts. You had fallen back asleep before the bus started to move and slept the whole trip.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #matildas #auswnt

[kararisa]

between you, me, and these bookshelves

synopsis: just the little things that happen in a little bookstore.

— featuring: albedo, ayato, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader (separate)

— cw: modern au, swearing, yn is an avid reader, use of childe's real name, none of the books i mention here are real lol

— author's notes: first headcanon post with multiple characters~ very self indulgent so hope you guys enjoy <3

Working at a bookstore isn't the most glamorous job in the world.

The pay is good for the amount of work you need to do, and most days nothing much happens.

But sometimes, there are just some events that happen between the bookstore's mahogany shelves that make your days just a bit more colorful.

Albedo

The bookstore has a chalkboard stand outside that details new releases, promotions, or events that the store has. Displayed on it are elaborate illustrations or hand-lettering, all of it done by the same person.

And he comes by every other weekend to re-do its contents.

You sometimes watch him as he draws, his nimble hands becoming dusted with colored chalk as he sketches on the blackboard, his light blond hair tied back as he furrows his brow, deep in concentration.

He’s caught you staring a handful of times, to which you turn away in hopes that he doesn’t bring it up. Thankfully he never does.

This week you watch as he colors in his artwork, a dragon and a young man with wings at the center soaring over rolling plains and sharp cliffs.

As the boy gets started with the lettering, you ask him a question.

“Do you really just come up with all this on the spot?”

The boy looks at you with curiosity in his eyes, “So you do talk. And here I was wondering if you just didn’t like talking to me.”

“Well, I don’t exactly know what we can really talk about. You’re a freelancer right?”

He smiles as he returns his attention back to his illustration, “You can say that. Well to answer your first question, I usually have a final outcome in mind before I start sketching. Your boss sends me a gist of what he wants and I draw it. Simple as that.”

You converse with him until he finishes, sprinkling in some questions about his work in between. As he packs up to leave, you ask him one last question.

“I never got your name, chalk boy.”

A silent question, but one that he still understands.

“It’s Albedo.”

The two of you end up striking up an easy conversation every time he visits, with you always watching him draw

If you express interest in his other works, he’ll let you browse his sketchbook 

One day while flipping through his drawings, you begin to see some familiar sights: a vending machine outside a nearby convenience store, a food stall, and the outside of the bookstore. Some pages have small doodles in pencil and ink, and some in color. Others have full illustrations.

The next page that you flip to, though, nearly takes your breath away. 

You find a colorful illustration of the bookstore, a blend of paint and ink. Sunlight streams through the glass walls and envelops the scene in a warm light. Boxes lay strewn on the floor, all of them brimming with books. And among the boxes stands you, a stack of books in hand as a small smile graces your face.

You look up when Albedo spots the page you’re on, “Ah, I hope you don’t mind that I sketched you a handful of times. I tend to draw what I find interesting.

“So is it alright if… I sketched you more often?”

Scaramouche

Scaramouche pisses you off most days.

He distracts you while you try to do your work, he steals the pen by the cash register whenever you need to use it, and worst of all, he always makes fun of whatever book you read.

No matter what genre it is, mystery, fantasy, or heaven forbid, romance, he'll always find something to tease you about.

But it’s odd. For someone who claims to hate every novel that you've taken interest in, you find yourself discussing with him each and every book you’ve read.

“Sure, Forest of Lies had a strong opening,” he starts, leaning back on his chair, “But did the princess seriously need to go through those arbitrary trials just to prove that she was determined to save her kingdom?”

“Fine, I thought it was stupid too,” you say, “But you have to admit, the characters are actually well-written and have interesting subplots. The knight having a backstory connected to the princess’ was a good twist.”

“But does anything really come from that twist? Or was it just there for shock value? When you get to the part where–”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, “Spoilers! I just got past the twist, asshole.”

“You should read faster then!” he says, going into the storage room to fetch some supplies, “Whatever, we’ll continue this when you finish the damn book.”

You’re about to continue reading when Scaramouche pops his head out and adds, “The next two novels in the series go downhill in quality from there. Trust me.”

“But this is a trilogy??”

“That’s the point!”

You realize that he had a point when you finally got to the second book.

Around halfway through reading the book, you catch him reading over your shoulder. You turn to look at him and he simply gives you a smug smile. You simply rolled your eyes and continued reading.

A couple of days go by after you finish the second book when he approaches you.

“What’s the occasion?” you say as Scaramouche hands you a book, a pen, a highlighter, and some book tabs.

It’s a novel on your wishlist, you notice; one that you had mentioned to him in passing. Small colored tabs stick out from the side of the book. Thumbing through the first few pages, you see that he underlined some passages, his neat writing occupying the margins, the blue highlighter bringing your attention to a handful of quotes. Just from reading the first sentence as well as Scaramouche’s comments, you could tell that you were going to enjoy reading this.

But you recall a casual remark he during one of your past conversations — he doesn’t typically annotate his books. Did he do this for you?

“Nothing. Just thought you should read a good book for once,” he answers, not quite looking at you.

“Excuse you, I read good books sometimes.”

“The last book you read, you kept ranting about how the writing wouldn’t just ‘let the characters fucking talk’. Your words, not mine.”

“And the last book you read, you literally couldn’t finish because you kept getting fed up with the protagonist doing nothing.”

He groans, “Are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

You give him an unimpressed look, setting the book and stationery aside, “This novel better be as good as you say it is.”

He was right. The book was actually good. You even ended up adding your own annotations alongside his — like having your own conversation amidst the pages of the book.

His comments, whether they be snarky, insightful, or analytical, definitely enhanced the experience. And thanks to that, you end up finishing the book in just two days.

Another one of your story discussions happens and, amidst the bickering, a book he mentions piques your interest.

After making fun of the ever-growing list of books he wants to read, to which he retorts by saying you’re not better off, an idea pops into your head and you search for the novel he’s looking for.

It’s in a genre you wouldn’t typically go reaching for, but this is the least you could do for him, right?

You spend the next week reading and annotating the book, using the highlighter and tabs Scaramouche had given you to highlight passages and give your comments.

The shocked look on his face when you gave him the copy of the book was definitely worth it.

“Just thought you should read a good book for once,” you say, sliding the book toward him.

“Huh. Don’t you hate this genre?”

“Surprisingly enough I actually liked the story; you have decent recommendations when you’re not being such a dick. So, are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

He rolls his eyes, snatching the book from the table, and mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’. 

You pretend not to see the blush that reaches his ears.

Ayato

It starts off as most days do, with a delivery of new books.

You open the box to find the newest releases as well as some bestsellers. One of the covers catches your eye, the title Child of the Roses emblazoned in front of an illustration of two women laying in a field of red roses — one of the books you’ve always wanted to get your hands on ever since the author announced the plot.

Sure you could purchase the book right now, but your budget for the month didn’t have a lot of wiggle room. And if you did wait until next month, you couldn’t exactly guarantee the availability of the book since it always manages to sell fast.

While you’re restocking the shelves, the door to the store opens, and in come a man and woman with pale blue hair. 

The girl starts looking around while the man walks up to you.

“Does your store happen to sell the book Traingazing?” the man asks. There’s an elegance in the way he carries himself — well-dressed, handsome, and dignified in the way he speaks, “It’s alright if you don’t.” 

You confirm its availability and lead him to the nearby shelves, “You lucked out today, sir. This is our last copy.”

He laughs. Fuck, even his laugh sounds expensive, “Lucky indeed. My sister and I have gone to five stores today just looking for it.”

The girl, his sister, you presume, comes up to you two with a small stack of books in hand, “Did you find it?”

The man holds up the book, its silver-edged pages gleaming in the fluorescent lights of the store, “Got their last copy, too.”

She sighs in relief, “Good. You can finally stop nagging me about you never being able to grab a copy before they sell out.”

“Says the one who dragged me to eight stores looking for a book you ended up hating.”

The siblings leave shortly after purchasing their books. 

The rest of the day passes by as normal. Rush hour usually comes around early afternoon to late evening, when students get out of school and people usually get off work. 

Unfortunately, your shift just about lines up with the store’s more chaotic hours.

You spot a familiar blue-haired man again later that evening while you’re in the middle of helping another customer. He’s browsing the shelves when he spots you.

“Can you help me with something? I’m looking for a gift for my sister.”

“Oh, the girl you were with this afternoon, right? What kind of books does she like?”

He describes the types of books she favors along with a handful of her favorite authors. You lead him to some nearby shelves, picking out some books and giving him a brief synopsis of each one. He listens intently to each of your suggestions, his lilac eyes focused on you.

As you’re finishing up, he spots a book behind you and grabs it from the shelf. You spot the familiar title, Child of the Roses. As usual, whenever you restock it, it’s the last one in stock. “You thinking of buying that one? It’s our last copy.”

The man reads the synopsis as you summarize the plot, “Seems like quite the interesting book if it got you so excited.”

You laugh at his remark, “Well, I’ve been wanting to read that book for a while now, but I never manage to get a copy before they sell out.”

He considers the book before saying, “Is that so?”

Your co-worker calls for you before you can respond, saying that they need help with manning the cash register.

After almost an hour of helping with scanning barcodes and packing books, the blue-haired man stands in front of the counter.

He holds up Child of the Roses, “If it’s alright, I’d like to make this a separate purchase.”

Figures he’d buy the book if the reviews and your excited ramblings are anything to go off of. While you were sad that the chance to purchase the novel had once again slipped away, at least you could be reassured that it would be in good hands.

After giving him the book and the receipt, he simply hands them both back to you, “You were quite passionate when you described the book to me. I thought I should buy it for you before someone else gets it.”

This has to be a dream, “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I mean don’t get me wrong! I’m grateful, but don’t you want to read this, too?”

A smile graces his face, “Of course. You helped me find what I was looking for this afternoon, so this is the least I can do for you.”

When you finally get home and settle down for the evening, you open the book, intending to get through just one chapter.

That’s when you find a calling card in between the pages of the index and the first chapter, the name Kamisato Ayato in immaculate handwriting on one side along with his number.

On the back was a message: I’m actually currently reading Child of the Roses, so I have no need for another copy. But if you’d like, we could go out sometime and read it together. What do you say?

Childe

Most days there's not really much to do aside from the usual talking to customers, restocking the shelves, and helping close up shop. 

So sometimes you read just to pass the time. 

You’re just finishing up a chapter when the door to the store opens.

Ajax, you learn his name, is a massive flirt. Instead of talking to you like a normal person, he instantly says the cheesiest pickup line you’ve ever heard.

“I don’t need glasses,” he says, leaning on the counter, “ ‘cause I can clearly see that we were meant to be.”

It’s way too early for this shit, “... sir are you going to buy a book or not?”

He tips his head back and laughs, “C’mon! You have to admit that one was good.”

And he’s come by the store every so often ever since.

He’s quite the chatterbox too, talking about anything he can think of whenever you scan his items at the counter.

You learn he’s an older brother when he asks you for book recommendations for his younger siblings. His attentiveness to his siblings’ taste in literature never fails to put a smile on your face.

You also learn that he’s very knowledgeable in literature.

He comments on one of the books you’re reading during one of his visits, talking about his favorite scenes as well as discussing the characters with you.

A week of nearly daily visits turns into a month, with you getting used to his corny pick-up lines and little conversations.

But then it suddenly stops. A week passes without Ajax’s visits.

You don’t think too much of it until that one week turned into three. 

He was under no obligation to come back every day, of course. He was a customer, at the end of the day, and there was never any guarantee that he wouldn’t suddenly stop visiting the bookstore nearly every day.

But you couldn’t help feeling dejected at the thought of just never seeing him again.

Then, on one unassuming Monday afternoon, a familiar face returns to the store.

“Hope you didn’t miss me too much,” Ajax winks at you, “Mind if you help me look for a book?”

You smile, doing your best to hide your surprise, “Good to see you’re still doing well.”

He gives a vague description of what he’s looking for: a sci-fi series that’s appropriate for his little brother Teucer, the third book to a series his sister Tonia is currently reading, and “whatever you think is good” for him.

Walking over to the shelves, you could feel his eyes on you as you started picking out the books for his siblings. A soft smile is on his face when you turn to face him, becoming wider when your eyes meet his.

“You were gone for a while,” you say, unsure of how to continue. His life is none of your business and like hell were you going to admit that you missed him.

He sighs, “Yeah. Work has been a lot these past few weeks, but now that it’s loosened up I can finally start seeing my favorite person more often.”

“Your favorite person huh?”

“Getting the chance to talk to you is the highlight of my visits. Of course you’d be my favorite person.”

He leans in close to you, “Y’know, I just realized that I’ve lost my number. So can I have yours?”

You roll your eyes, still smiling, “You could have just asked for my number like a normal person.”

Ajax laughs, and you find yourself wishing you could listen to it every day.

#albedo x reader #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #scaramouche x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #albedo fluff #ayato fluff #scaramouche fluff #childe fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin modern au #genshin drabbles

[gildedkrone]

KINKTOBER 2023 🔞

Gold is the colour of royalty. In filigrees embossed into vermillion cloaks, in the frames of paintings in royal courts with ceilings of skies adorned with angels and cherubs. Gold is the dust blowing through a cracked façade and a bleeding heart.

He doesn’t bleed red. He never does.

Shake off the dust gathered on the tarp over his heart and rein in his faith—he is a man facing a crisis of faith shaken and broken as with marks deep and scarring in the soft flesh of human emotion.

He has emotions, contrary to typical belief and what his coworkers think.

Erudition is a curse—the knowledge contained within only serves to break him further into pieces of unfulfilled longing and desire shimmering and shining under the rays of heaven.

He bleeds gold and he bleeds it all over your hands in streams of gold particles blowing off the charred remains of his supposed heart. A lie; it is one he tells himself all the time.

You can’t hurt what you don’t know.

Faith in crisis—man down in a pool of gold lust lapping at his ears and his nose as waves crest in periods synced with the surging of his heart strings tangled between your fingers in splinters of his shield.

He’s a compromised soldier of god when he first laid eyes on you. His oaths are nothing against what you bring with you when he experiences your touch initially. It blinds him with fervour and shakes the foundation of his understanding of the world.

He finds gold to be his new favourite colour as it’s associated with the lustre of your wings, the crown on your head and the tips of your fingers brushing over his when he’s injured on the battlefield. His comrades have abandoned him, warrior left to rot in ruin as they retreated from their unsuccessful assault.

Gold is his eyes with the reflection of your smile in a sardonic pose.

“Oh Ghost—have you fallen?”

He grits something in ashes of pride and shivers at your touch against a wound in his thigh. Gold filters through your fingers in something viscous and lazy and you swipe it on his garments to get rid of them. He feels small under your touch and he whispers a prayer.

A prayer to a god no longer willing to listen and on deaf ears are his final pleas. What fools to take him for nothing.

Defiance is salacious in eyes burning with hatred—but it’s so pretty set against his blonde lashes. The wind blows from the east and you lean into his space. A caress of his hands tenses his body before you tell him of your intentions.

“I think I will keep you, Ghost.”

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

Gold is the colour of his pleasure when he gives in to his carnal desires. No man can truly hold out against temptation and with his mask removed, his pretty face is framed by skin resplendent and healthy.

A man in a crisis of faith always seeks redemption; to seek another higher purpose so you will have to step in and be his religion. It has taken months, gently nursing him back to health and breaking down the barriers of meaningless restraint inculcated by weak men with fragile egos.

“Need your consent before we do anything, Ghost.”

He nods even if his faith is tested. He can’t love another man; it’s against the beliefs his father and the military have knocked into him over and over again.

“But you no longer believe in that, do you?”

He moans.

“Take me to be your faith, Ghost.”

“Let your belief be moulded by me and let yourself be rewarded.”

He chokes and it’s a sound echoing around the chambers. He lays on duvets and a hand is busy between his thighs rippling up and down a shaft neglected by his duties as a soldier. Your fingertips leave trails of gold weaving down his body in intricate markings and patterns to help him find his new purpose.

“Look into my eyes and tell me to stop. I will.”

Crisis and ruin gag his tongue and he comes noisily and weakly into his hands with his second orgasm clawing it way out of his throat. The mighty Ghost, once feared by all laid naked before you in the throes of pleasure with an eager hand lost in earthly desires.

You seek to show him heavenly desires.

The cloth around you falls to the floor in a heap and he zeroes in on your pelvis. A gilded cock ring affixed at the base and rings pierced in your nipples. The mattress dips below your weight as you kneel between his thighs and encroach into his space.

A hand touches his thighs and the question hangs in the air. He debates and gives his consent. To be bathed in your fervour and magnificence and your ego is stroked by the simple gesture itself. Fingers gently swiped through a bowl of liquid before they prod gently at his entrance and they push through between a gasp and growl of pure surprise and instinct.

He is beautiful, laying there with a hand clasping onto your arm pressing into the bed for support. The mask never did suit him—it’s ugly and hides a face sculpted in the truest image of man. Chest heaving with the thrumming anticipation of his first time with you and the light around you is blinding in it’s intensity. With three fingers in him, you taste him on plush lips pushing into yours with eager and a moan slipping from his slipper grasp on his awakened desires.

Gold is the colour of his nails when his hand wraps around your shaft and you smile encouragingly as he felt up what is going to enter him. He tugs your length and you clamber forward and rests a hand against the back of his head.

Sacred, in every sense with your body shadowing his and cradling him in pleasure as the length gently pushes into him. The hand on his head allows you to see into his eyes dilating with pleasure and supposed sin he once believed in.

A man’s pleasure is another’s too.

He gives a gasp when it’s halfway in and you stop; any further will hurt him. He is tight and eyes shut in an attempt to regain some semblance of control over his body and desires as you tug and pull on them to keep him off balance. Eventually, you give a shallow pull and thrust as he keens. The sound is melodious—pure and unfiltered without the meaningless shackles once denying him of pleasure this euphoric.

“Tell me how you feel, Ghost.”

His words are disjointed and broken, like lines of gold spiralling into loose ends as you rock into him again with the burning fervour to show him what he has denied himself for so long. Rebuild his faith and bring him to ecstasy over and over again.

In the bedroom, he loses himself to the chants of your name with frantic pawing at your chest when he feels the burn blaze in his loins. The body with gold paint flexes and shakes with thrust and symbolically, it represents a man seeking truth and knowledge with trust and vulnerability.

Tears streak down his face and they aren’t gold. You don’t expect them to be—they are pure as his heart is light in the moment. They fall in beads of expungement of false teachings of fake prophets.

Shake his faith and be his keeper—chant the name. Chant the name until all is nothing but drudgery behind a brilliance of gold that is his climax when he topples over the crests of vermillion into your hands ready to catch him and make him whole. He runs a hand through your flank as you whisper his name.

Simon.

“mmfph! C-come … come in me, p-please!” His voice beckons and his dick leaves evidence of his desire in strings on his pelvis. The tip leaks with clear fluid and you swipe a taste of tangy and salty and the quivering of a virgin hole around your aching dick. With each thrust, his whines are words of a siren in an altar defiled by your presence if they were to be believed. His eyes beseech you to be merciful as he slings an arm over.

“Cl-close! P-please, just … let—let me cum!” His body, aflame with desire getting higher and higher swallows you greedily as you thrust harder into him to make his wish a reality. His cheeks are smattered with pink and desperate men make convincing pleas.

Gold is the future waiting for him with you in seas of calm waters and a sun warm as your body pressed against his and seeding him in spurts as he spews messily over his stomach. His tears are rivers of release; cathartic is what he experiences when he lets out everything he has suppressed for so long to allow himself to feel.

“Stay with me, Simon.”

He nods and looses himself in your lips and grunts when you pull out of him before rearranging his rogue limbs into an embrace of suns and stars—a man sated and fulfilled with his desires snoozed, for now. His tears wipe off with a hand.

Gold, truly, is a colour best reserved for him. For his splendour and brilliance of a man having found his faith with you descending upon him in radiance and glory. In a house without god, he finds what he has been looking for. Upturned tables and roots of culture in a space no longer empty with your presence as you cup his face gently to soothe.

After all, what would you be if you didn’t safeguard a being as divine as him?

Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist || kinktober masterlist

#fanfic #cod mw2 #male reader #cod x male reader #x male reader #x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x male reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #ghost fanfiction #call of duty

[ajaxsprettyboy]

NEW PLAYER

Streamer / camboy male reader x biggest fan leona (mostly ooc but I mean come on it’s leona he’s hot regardless)

Leona has the funds to support his infatuation with you. He doesn’t feel bad about it, well, maybe a little, considering you’re barely 18. But aside from that who is he to discourage a pretty boy from showing off his gaming skills, good commentary, and gorgeous body. The sound of your voice could be heard from his phone whenever he felt the need to get off.

Maybe it was your face, maybe it was the pretty sounds you made when you got jump scared, or maybe, just maybe, it was how he’d assure you reached your tip goals just so he could see you in cute little outfits. Most of them being natural prey to lions.

Much to Leona’s surprise, you held an interactive event. You had goals set and for each one met, you would hold a stream only for the contributors. The last goal you had had a bigger prize. To meet you. This would only have one winner, selected via raffle. Most would be too nervous to put their names up for the contest, but leona had a good feeling about his chances.

He was right! He won! The next two names are the second and third winners, winners of compensation prizes. Leona didn’t care about those though, when he got the email about meeting his favorite streamer he was so pleased with himself. Leona read over the email, telling him what can and can’t be done unless explicitly stated by you. When the day came, you didn’t expect to see a guy around your age, let alone an attractive one.

He smirked and introduced himself, watching your sheepish expression melt away. He looked down at you and waited for you to speak. “Well, you already know who I am,” you laughed. “What would you like to do! We don’t have a time limit so if you’d like to play a game, go live, or maybe just talk, we have time for it all!” You smiled at him, it was the same smile you had when you were laughing, a genuine smile. He liked that.

“I’ve got a better idea” “oh! What’s that? I’m all ears!”

Well you didn’t mean your sentence to be taken literally, but now with the floppy bunny ears on top of your head, a tight skirt, a pair of fishnets on, while you struggle to fit all of Leona’s cock in your mouth, you couldn’t help but blush. The camera was rolling, live on your nsfw streaming service, recording how tears prickled your lash line.

Leona’s tail flicked behind him in a pleased manner, his hand on the back of your head, careful not to disturb those bunny ears as he watched you choke on him. Leona’s not dumb, he knows you wouldn’t do this if you weren’t attracted to him, yourself. He knew if he was going to get more than sex out of you, he’d need to get your number. But right now all he can clearly think about is how pretty you look on your knees for him.

Leona made sure the camera caught how you swallowed his load. He made absolutely sure the camera could see your pretty face as he sunk you down onto his cock. He wanted to watch this all over again later but feeling it was much better. The camera caught the way your pretty cock slapped against his stomach, the way you moaned, whimpered, and begged him for more.

“Sir, please, can I cum?” Only to be met with a low growl and a deep chuckle from behind the camera. “You know better, bunny.” His reply was laced with sadistic lust and adoration. “Good boys earn their orgasm. Make me cum again and maybe you’ll get a reward.” He planned on letting you cum, but he didn’t want you to know that. He planned on watching your pretty face contort as you shot hot sticky load after hot sticky load onto him but god he loves the look of determination that always graces your features when you have a goal in mind.

Eventually when leona came, he let you cum, wrapping his much larger hand around your cock. When you came he couldn’t help but look at your pitiful expression and shaking legs with pride. He then shut the camera off after you waved goodbye. Usually, whenever leona sleeps with someone, he just lets them clean themselves up, but he helped you. He ran you a bath, got you food cooked by his personal chefs, and even fixed up your bed.

Safe to say leona got your number and did in fact rewatch that video after he left.

He’s proud to say he’s got a date with you in a week.

#snow.writes #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst reader insert #leona kingscholar #leona x you #leona x male reader #twst x male reader #twst leona #twst leona x reader #disney twst #leona smut #leona kingscholar smut

[sunshine-theseus]

I’ve Got You | Charlie Grant x reader

Word Count: 2.4k Summary: Having someone like Charlie by your side makes pregnancy a whole lot easier. i don't think this is my best i'm sorry Warnings: none? Request for - @charligrantismygirlfriend

Being friends with Katrina basically guaranteed being friends with Kyra and Charlie.

I met Kat in 2022, toward the end of her time at Brisbane, as she was beginning to get back in with the Matildas. I found myself crying in the baby aisle of a rather desolate IGA in Clayfield when she crouched next to me and asked me if I was alright. I didn’t look up as I struggled to calm my sobbing to explain my situation.

“He- he left me. I’m 21 and pregnant without a partner. How am I supposed to have a baby without a partner?” I stared up at her with red-rimmed eyes and tears that stream down my cheeks. It’s then that I notice she has a young baby resting on her hip, eyes gently closed as her head rests on the shoulder of this woman.

“Do… do you have anyone that will help?” I vigorously shook my head, then told her how I’d been living alone for 4 years, my parents running off to whatever dingy town they decided would bring them the most drugs without police caring.

“A- and he kicked me out. Oh fuck I don’t have anywhere to live what the fuck am I doing?!” my eyes frantically flickered around the store as my situation settled in. There was no way I could survive this.

“I know this is a weird offer but… you could live with me? I have a spare bedroom and rent is getting kind of wild. And Harper would love you.” She looked down at the girl who clung to her with such adoration.

“I’m Katrina.” She reached out her hand and I took it.

“Y/n” I smiled gently at her.

“I mean it. You living with me. I had Harper 8 months ago and I have bunch of pregnancy books and clothes and all that stuff.”

“W- what about your partner? Won’t he mind?”

“She lives in Sweden, so probably not.” Katrina then told me her story of wanting to be a mum and going through IVF, and how Harper brought her back to football.

~~~~~

About 2 months later, I was flying over to Sweden, following shortly after Kat and Harper left. I attended pretty much every game Kat played, taking care of Harper when her mum couldn’t make it, and researching a lot.

I was lucky my job was remote, so I was able to move around with Kat without an issue. My boss had sent a small gift basket of baby books and clothes when I told her I would be living overseas for 6 or so months. She also gave me less work, insisting that I meet people and do fun things instead of worrying about how much I had to do. She was probably the person who pushed me the most to meet someone new.

It was 2 weeks after I moved in with Kat, and met Clara, that I met Charlotte and Kyra. Despite Kyra’s club being 5 – 6 hours away, she’d somehow managed to make it down for a few days on a short break between matches. We all went for coffee and brunch, me limiting my food to hashbrowns and toast because most other things made me nauseas.

Charlie and Kyra asked how Kat and I met and why I was living with them. I gave them a rather short version of the day in the IGA, and Charlie reached over and put an empathetic hand on my shoulder. I give a tight-lipped smile in return.

It doesn’t take long for me to grow close to the two younger players Kat had also taken under her wing. Some days they had off, I’d take Harper off Kat and Clara’s hands and take her somewhere with Charlie, like the park or a pool. Other days we’d all go together and when Kyra could, she’d come down and spend a couple days.

It’s nice to have friends my age to hang out and talk with, Katrina having been the only person I had for the most part of 3 or so months.

Both girls insisted I need to meet the other Matildas, but I struggled to find time when they have camp, or I’m too nauseas to travel.

This creates a new problem when Kat and Clara both decide to head back to Brisbane in mid-November now that the Swedish season is done, so Kat can play with the Roar again during the A-League season.

My bump is relatively big, and most forms of travel make me sick, so I know I won’t really be able to travel with them back home, and in a few more weeks I won’t be allowed to fly. So I’m stuck by myself again. Until Charlie makes a rather compelling offer.

They don’t have any matches in the up-coming international break, so she offers me to live with her for the time being so I’m not as alone. The one fault to present itself, is she only has 1 bed. I insist I sleep on the couch, but she waves the idea away as I hold my stomach, trying to relieve some pressure.

“Oh! Can I try something? It might help give you some relief for a moment. I saw it on TikTok.” I simply nod my head; I’ll try anything at this point.

I’m slightly shocked when she circled around behind me and reached around my front, but I can’t question anything before she placed her hands beneath my belly and lifts. I groan in relief and my hand rolls back onto her shoulder.

“Holy shit that feels so nice.” She holds my belly for a minute or so before gently removing her hands and pressing a kiss to my cheek.

I flush red as she goes back to making lunch. I’ve found myself doing that a lot around her recently. Any nice gesture or any touch and I’m blushing and butterflies flutter around my stomach. Sometimes I wonder if the same thing happens to her.

Later in the day, I'm desperate to take a nap, so I slowly lay down on Charlie’s couch. It takes her all of 5 seconds to realise and start pulling me up, dragging me to her bedroom.

“If you’re so adamant that I don’t sleep on the couch, and you definitely shouldn’t be sleeping on the couch, we can share the bed. It’s big enough for us both.” I don’t have the energy to refuse as I fall back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as Charlie plays with my hair.

~~~~~

I spend the next 2 months spending time with Charlie and Kyra, who also decided not to travel home until their Cup of Nations games in February. Kyra stays on a blow-up mattress she lugged with her from Stockholm while Charlie and I continue to share the bed.

I’m a week away from my due date when I feel something wet drip down my legs. Kyra and Charlie freak out, but I let them know my contractions haven’t started. And I nearly think that maybe it was somehow a false alarm.

Nearly a day later, I feel severe pressure on my pelvis. I groan in pain and clutch my stomach as I move positions, assuming it’s just a Braxton Hicks contraction. The pain doesn’t subside for a minute or so, and Kyra doesn’t take notice of my groans from the other room, on a call with Charlie who had forgotten the grocery list and now had to have Kyra recite it to her so she could rewrite it on her phone.

I don’t think much of the contraction until I feel another one 20 minutes later, and another 20 minutes after that. They progressively get closer together and I call out to Kyra to help me up from the bed before calling for an ambulance, and I frantically scroll my contacts for Charlie’s number. It takes 10 minutes for her keys to rattle against the door and she rushes in, followed closely by the paramedics.

~~~~~

I suffer through 13 hours of labour before I’m holding a small bundle in my arms, Charlie holding another, as Kyra takes photos to send Kat later.

“I can’t believe that fucking piece of shit left you, but at least he gave you two little cuties.” Charlie passes the baby off to Kyra and turns to me.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you, Kat and Kyra.”

“I’m so proud of you.” I don’t stop to think before I lean over and gently place my lips on hers, her strawberry chapstick is all I can taste.

I see a flash go off in the corner of my eye and whip my head to look at Kyra, who giggles sheepishly before looking back down at the baby in her arms.

“I know this is probably rushed and wild, but do you want to move in with me? Officially? We can find a bigger place to house the girls. But I’ve been holding in my feelings for you for like 6 months now. I promise to take care and love you and the twins with my whole heart.” A tear falls down my cheek as I nod my head, and she kisses me again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Oh! Mini’s calling! She doesn’t know! What do I do? Do I answer?” Kyra interrupts us, frantically looking for whether she should answer or not.

“Facetime her.” Kyra hands the baby back to Charlie and quickly facetimes Katrina, who doesn’t take a moment to answer.

“None of you have answered any of my calls for the past 14 hours what the fuck is going on? Why does it look like you’re in a hospital” is the first thing she says as Kyra’s phone faces away from me.

“Well… we have a surprise.” The phone slowly pans over to Charlie and I and we both grin.

“WHAT THE FUCK? You had the baby?!”

“Babies” Charlie corrects her.

“Twins?!”

“Kat, I’d like you to meet Ashley Jade and Maysilee Hazel Gorry.” Everyone’s heads snap to look at me as I smile.

“What, what do you mean ‘Gorry’?”

“You literally changed my life, took me in when I had no one, introduced me to my best friend… and girlfriend,” I pause and give Charlie a look, she smiles in return.

“I also changed my name like a month ago, to Y/n Gorry. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind what the fuck!?” I glance back at Katrina; tears prick at her eyes and my own mirror her’s.

“I’m going to fucking fly over and meet those little cuties.”

“Well, I was thinking… if they’re healthy enough to travel, we’d fly over with Kyra and Charlie for your Cup of Nations matches in February? And I’d meet the team.” Another wave of shock ripples through out the room

“Fuck yes!”

We talk to Kat for a while after that. Harper tumbles into screen and coos at the babies but soon looses interest, and Clara comes in to congratulate me. We eventually have to say goodbye.

“Is it ok if I head back to the apartment? I think if I fall asleep on these chairs, I’ll never be able to play again.” Kyra dramatically complains, but I just smile and nod, sending her on her way.

“I know I already said it, but I am so proud of you and I love you so much. You could’ve given up on these babies, but you pushed through.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you Char, these little guys are going to adore their mumma so much.”

“Of course they will, you’re so amazing.”

“I mean you…”

“R-really?”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side.” She kisses me passionately, well as passionately as you can kiss someone who’s lying in a hospital bed while you’re both holding a baby.

~~~~~

“Are you excited to see your aunties?” Ashley and Maysilee’s giggles fill the car ass Charlie tickles their feet.

“Yay yay yay!” they both chant as we help them out of the car and onto their feet.

They’re running down the corridor as soon as the elevator doors part open, giggling and screaming without knowing where they’re supposed to be going. They only stop when they run into two pairs of legs, and they sheepishly look up as they go to apologise, only to be picked up.

“Aunty MinMin! Aunty Anna!” Maysilee screams as Alanna gives her a sloppy kiss on the cheek, Ashley much quieter as she returns Kat’s hug.

“We’ll look after them while you settle in. I missed my favourite twins.” Kat says as she also gives Maysilee a gentle kiss on the forehead.

Charlie and I take each other’s hand as we walk to our room, kissing our daughters goodbye and thanking the pair of teammates. When we reach the room, I waste no time in fall on the bed, Charlie following swiftly behind. I lean into her as she wraps her arms around me before I kiss her.

We spend another hour or so cuddling and kissing, basking in the childless quiet. I admire Charlie like I do every moment we get together, her crystal blue eyes, the shape of her nose, her dull pink lips, the small scar above her right eyebrow. And I wonder the same thing I always do; how did I get so lucky.

“I can’t believe we brought our kids to the Olympics. Who does that? We should have left them with someone back in London.” I joke before kissing her.

“I’d take my babies anywhere; I hate being apart from you all.” Charlie pouts and kisses me again, and again.

~~~~~

Charlie brings Ashley, Maysilee and I to all the events and training sessions Tony allows her to, the girls always with one of their Mumma’s jerseys on or something that showcases a blatant support for the Matildas.

After a particularly difficult game, the team silently heads back to their rooms, Charlie curling up under the blanket as I get the twins ready for bed. When they notice she hasn’t come to kiss them goodnight, they clamber up onto the bed and start to tickle and poke her. She doesn’t respond and they seem to understand she’s upset.

“What’s wrong mumma?”

“Mumma’s just sad and hurt about today babies.” Charlie whispers through shaky breath.

I watch as they calm down and instead wrap their arms around her and kiss her gently, like she kisses them when they’re hurt. I slowly slide in behind Ashley, wrapping my arm around all 3 of them.

“We’ve got you baby.” I give them all a kiss and we fall asleep like that, the sun slowly allowing the blanket of stars to fill the sky.

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #the matildas x reader #the matildas #charlie grant x reader

[rainbowchaox]

Qsmp Characters Analysis: Wilbur Versus Missa

A common thing I have been seeing off and on is people not really understanding why Wilbur absence is treated more harshly in canon than Missas. Therefore I wanna explain in more detail the reason why. Yes, they are both absent fathers because of In real life commitments. Wilbur canonically being forced to go on tours by the federation and Missa having to be off island for reaper duties (always imagine Philza saying YouTube as him being like reaper job never done).

But the fact of the matter when Chayanne and the rest of the eggs had to be taken care of at the start. The egg missions were daily. So Missa and Chayanne gained a strong connection. Tallulah only had a couple days. The main issue is that yes Tallulah does love Wilbur. She’s hurting but does love him. They don’t really have a connection. And it’s visible clearly how much Philza and Chayanne care for Missa. Despite him being gone for practially four months. People are easy to forget why Chayanne and even Philza cares so much for him.

In the time since Wilbur went away he popped in like once while Missa popped in about four times. Not to mention the times he went on off stream. If one wants to consider absence as something to measure. Then Wilbur is the more absent parent. Missa actually gets on more.

Missa is trying his best. He doesn’t want to be considered a bad dad. His character is openly trying to be better. For Philza and Chayanne. For his family. Even though his family don’t need him to show that he is a good dad. He already is. He loves Chayanne so much. Missa is just good. Even when he met Tallulah he wanted to know more about her. He wants to be part of their life.

And it’s stupid to think his family doesn’t know this. They know he is trying. So yes they always forgive him with open arms. They mention him off and on missing him. But not upset at him. They understand. Philza if anything is always thinking of him. He misses him so much. You can miss someone and selfishly want them to be with you. And not be upset and not be angry. And Philza and Chayanne can never be upset or angry at Missa.

But with Wilbur? Tallulah only had him and he left. He only came once when she was going through the worst time of her life. When she was scared. So of course she is upset. Of course she is angry. In her point of view her dad failed her again. And worst of all she doesn’t have that strong connection she can see other parents have with their eggs. So she’s jealous that she is the only one without her actual dad. Of course this isn’t true. We know that Wilbur canonically loves her and wants to be back on the island. But she is a child. She can be upset and still love her dad.

So despite being similar being absent dads. They are utterly different. Missa is loved and will be loved. Wilbur doesn’t have the connection with Tallulah anymore. It’s sad but Philza is her dad now. Philza has that connection with her. So completely different situations. And we shouldn’t really compare them.

We also know that the first week that Chayanne had a favorite dad and it was Missa. There’s reasons why Chayanne never say anything bad about him. Solidified by Philza openly missing or mentioning him. Tallulah only had letters and eventually memories to remember him by. But she does love Wilbur. She loves Wilbur so much. That’s why she so upset.

#qsmp #pissa #qsmp pissa #Qsmp Wilbur #qsmp chayanne #Qsmp Tallulah #qsmp missa #Qsmp Philza #OKOKOKOKOK ENJOY

[thecasualauthor]

@jilymicrofics March Prompt 30: Inferior

Brought to you by a jegulus fueled rage. Thank you to my discord people for enabling me. This one's for you.

Read under the cut!

----

Lily is not a violent person.

She prefers to talk things out, to have a reasoned, rational discussion. 

Most of the time. 

But Regulus Black is staring at her with such a smug expression, having just called her mudblood to her face after belittling her potions abilities (and her magical ability in general), and she will not be made to feel inferior to Sirius Black’s kid brother of all people. 

So she really doesn’t feel the slightest bit guilty as she launches herself at him. 

Regulus, it seems, was not expecting this, and he lets out a yelp. His wand goes flying out of his hand as Lily collides with him, sending both of them to the ground. 

Her father had taught her how to defend herself as a child without magic, and every single memory of where to hit, how hard to hit, flies through her mind, and she acts on it. 

Ignoring any protests or attempts at retaliation from the Slytherin sixth year, Lily unleashes a flurry of punches, each one fueled by her rage and determination. 

Regulus, taken aback by the unexpected assault, attempts to shield and retaliate, but he's clearly outmatched, despite his quidditch activities and supposed “dark arts” training.

“Potter! Do something!” 

Lily doesn’t know who says it, but she isn’t being stopped, or even told to do so. In fact, she’s ninety percent sure James is laughing hysterically. 

Unfortunately, the commotion attracts the attention of Professor McGonagall, who arrives on the scene with a small shriek, and she pulls Lily off of Regulus, who’s curled into something like a ball on the ground.

"Lily Evans, what on earth do you think you're doing?" McGonagall demands, her voice sharp with authority.

Breathing heavily, Lily meets McGonagall's gaze. "He had it coming, Professor," she retorts. And despite the horrified look on McGonagall’s face, Lily glances at Regulus and feels a sense of satisfaction wash over her. She’d beaten him. 

The muggle way. 

James keeps laughing. Tears are literally streaming down his face, and he manages to chortle, “That was the greatest thing you have ever done, Lily.” 

“That’s enough, Potter,” McGonagall snaps. “I should give you a detention for not intervening.”

James just wipes tears from his eyes and gives Lily a thumbs-up, and she feels a surge of pride. 

“I’m guessing I’m getting a detention for this?” She asks politely.

McGonagall blinks, as if she can’t believe her eyes. “Yes, Miss Evans. You are absolutely getting a detention. Several of them.” 

Lily shrugs. 

“Fair enough.” 

As McGonagall turns her attention to Regulus, ensuring he's not seriously injured (which is unnecessary in Lily’s opinion), Lily catches James's eye. His laughter has subsided, replaced by a look of admiration mixed with absolute elation. Lily can't help but feel a warmth spread through her chest at the sight of his approving gaze, and she winks at him. 

Later, after Lily’s been assigned a week's worth of detentions cleaning the trophy room, as well as been banned from attending the next Hogsmede trip, James walks with her back to the common room. 

“I thought about helping you,” he says, “but it looked like you had it under control.” Lily shrugs.

“You’ve had enough detentions,” she says. “And besides, he needed a muggleborn to take him down a few pegs.” 

James grins. “I can just imagine the look on Lucius Malfoy’s face when he learns his latest recruit got beaten to a pulp.”

“I only wish we could see it,” Lily laughs, and James nudges her with his shoulder. 

“I would take you out to Hogsmede this weekend if you weren’t forbidden from going,” he says. “As a treat, you know.” Lily’s smile widens, and she lets her fingers graze against his. 

“Ask me next time,” she says, a little softer, “And I might just say yes.” James looks even happier, if possible, and as they continue their walk, he reminisces every second of Lily’s victory like he does about his quidditch wins, and Lily thinks she’s content to listen to him all day. 

When they push open the portrait hole, the first person they see is Sirius.

“Heard you got a load of detentions, Evans,” he says gleefully. “Whatever did you do?” He looks at them innocently, and judging by his expression, Lily can tell he knows exactly what Lily did to earn all those detentions.

“It was amazing, Padfoot,” James beams. “The greatest thing to ever happen at this school.” 

Lily rolls her eyes affectionately. 

“Sorry I beat up your brother, Black,” Lily says, and Sirius shrugs. 

“I’m not,” he says. “I just wish I’d been there to see it.” 

Lily grins. 

#jily #lily evans potter #james potter #emma floods the jily tag with jily #I had the time of my life with this #regulus black gets beat to a pulp the muggle way #Justice for Lily evans

[twyftwyt]

part 2 to this little imagine that I posted earlier today (since you guys seemed to like it very much)

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: smut 18+ (a little at the end), angst

Authors note: so this started as a little imagine I wrote in my drafts a few days ago and I got so many positive comments to expand it, so you know, i gotta give it you, it’s only fair; let me know if you’d like me to continue this story as I have quite a few ideas for it

…you have more pieces of me than the desert has sand

and i have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand…

By the time we reached my house my tears had dried and I’d calmed myself down as much as I could. Noah stayed silent the whole drive home and it crushed me a little that he didn’t fight back on what I said earlier. Silence was agreement, in my eyes. And he seemed to be on the same page with what I said.

He parked the car in front of my house and turned off the engine. The low hum coming from the speakers fell silent and the air felt even thicker now. Neither one of us knew what to say or do next and I didn’t want to leave like that. But I wasn’t going to be the first to speak either. I was too scared to look at him, as well. I knew that the moment I looked at him, I’d cave and try to hug him. Or say something to make this whole situation better. But the truth was that it was better left this way. We needed time. I needed time.

“Can I walk you to the front door?”

I wanted to say “yes”, believe me, I did. But it was not gonna be like the usual times, where he’d walk me to the door, kiss and hug me, sometimes even try to come in, and I’d let him. I knew this time was gonna be tough and heavy. And so I decided to politely decline.

“I can walk myself to my house, Noah. It’s fine.”

I knew that came out a bit harsher than I wanted it to be, but I didn’t have the capacity to be nicer. I was hurting and I had all the right reasons for my emotional state right now. My eyes were red and puffy, my lips - swollen, my heart felt heavy in my chest.

“Don’t be this way, please. It is shit enough as it is. Just let me walk you.”

“Why? You can wait in the car until I close the door”

“Get out of my car then.”

I didn’t expect that kind of an answer and so I finally looked up at him. Same blank expression, right hand firm on the steering wheel. Did he really just tell me to get out of his car?!

“You know, I wanted to be nice to you. End this night on a more positive note. But since I see you’ve managed to bring your attitude with your goodnight’s, have it your way. Asshole.”

My tears were bubbling up again and I didn’t wait long enough for him to see them streaming down my face. I took my keys in my hand and got off the passenger seat, slamming the door. By the time I reached the patio my vision was blurry and my hands were shaking. I managed to put the key in the hole and didn’t look twice before slamming the door to my house as well. He could go to hell for all I care about.

I can’t properly remember how I managed to take a shower and tidy up my room before I got into bed, all I knew was almost six months of building something with someone just went to shit. And I should’ve known from the start. I should’ve seen the signs, I should’ve taken my friends’ advices when they told me numerous times to not deal with a man like him. I should’ve listened. I should’ve left when he said he doesn’t know what a healthy relationship feels and looks like. I should’ve left when he stayed silent for all of our arguments. I should’ve left when he said he wasn’t ready. But of course, I’ve always been known to go against my instincts. Like I did the first time I met him.

I got invited to a friend of a friend’s party at the Hollywood Hills, a place I wasn’t very fond of and up until the last moment, I decided not to attend. And if you ask me now, why I changed my mind all of a sudden, I won’t be able to come up with and adequate answer. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain everything that happened that night.

It was a nice pool house, looking over the hills, all white and minimalistic and the music was booming all around. There were people everywhere and liquor, lots and lots of liquor. I wasn’t used to going to parties. At least not anymore. I preferred having my peace of mind at home, with a movie or working on something. And so when I arrived at said party, I wished I could teleport anywhere but here. That’s up until I met him. Noah.

Noah, Noah, Noah.

The first time I laid my eyes on him he was leaning against a wall, holding a bottle of beer in one hand and a phone in the other. I found it amusing that he was wearing sunglasses inside but I kinda understood why. I’d wear a pair too if it made me look less approachable. He was looking at the screen of his phone, scrolling away his life. He was wearing all black. Black “The Witch” shirt that immediately caught my attention. Black sweats and what looked like skull slides with white socks. In all honesty, he looked ridiculous for a party. I must have stared at him for too long, cause he picked his head up from his phone and looked my way. I quickly moved my glance from him and focused on a girl trying to get into the pool, but soon enough I felt the air move around me and the smell of a strong perfume enveloped me.

“That’s a cute pajama.”

I tuned to face the man who called my boho pants “pajama”, ready to call him out, but quickly froze when I was met with the piercing eyes of the man I had just spent 10 minutes staring at.

“And that’s a bold first thing to say to anyone.”

“Not as bold as your fashion statement.”

Cheeky.

“Says the man wearing skull slides and sunglasses indoors.”

He laughed at me and raised his beer up to my face.

“Cheers to that.”

We locked eyes and I felt my knees getting weak.

I checked my phone one last time before I put it on DND and placed on my nightstand. I don’t know why I was expecting a text from him, some sort of explanation, reassurance that everything’s gonna be fine and this was just a stupid spat. I don’t know why I wanted to believe this is not over. I don’t know how I managed to trust him so fast and to get hurt just as fast. I grabbed my phone one last time to check for messages again and my heart sunk once the screen lit up.

“I’ve been sitting in front of your house for almost 2 hours now, trying to figure out what the hell just happened between us. All I know is, I don’t wanna go home tonight. Not like this. I need you.”

The speed at which I went for the stairs almost got me killed. The moment I opened my front door and saw him leaning on the hood of his car made my knees go weak the same way it did when I first saw him. Our eyes locked and I could swear that by the time he reached my patio, he was basically running. His body slammed so hard into mine that it made me trip over my legs and almost knocked me over. His hands were around my waist, his wet lips all over my face and I could feel his dick pressed against my belly.

“Noah..”

Was all I managed to moan in his mouth, while digging my fingers in his hair.

“Let me..” he looked me up and down hungrily and gripped my ass “..inside.”

I was done for.

#noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens cult #fic

[azsazz]

More vamp azzy as we all desperately need.

This one is a request from an anon: “Okay so for vamp Az. I’m not sure if vampires eat anything other than blood but if not, then imagine him trying to cook anything for reader because she got sick or something. I don’t want to get into too many details since you only asked for ideas so totally no pressure! I fell hopelessly in love with vamp Az and am so excited for more!! ❤️‍🔥And spooky season is coming and it just fits perfectly 😌🧛🏼”

**Not edited!**

A clatter from the kitchen shocks you from your sleep. Your eyes are heavy and sore, nose stuffed and mouth dry. You cough a little as you swallow, trying to wet your throat and gather your bearings.

Your blanket sits heavy on your body, and you notice not only one, but three thick comforters piled up and tucked under your chin. You’re a cocoon of warmth, and despite the chill wracking your bones, sweat dampens your forehead.

The couch is as good as any bed, but the room is missing the body of the vampire you’ve become accustomed to seeing. Azriel doesn’t need sleep, not that you have noticed anyway, but he often never lets you leave his sight, even if he knows you’re in your rooms or his excellent hearing picks up on you prowling around his home during the daylight hours.

You’ve grown into his schedule, sleeping away the days and staying up during the nights. You hadn’t even realized you’d been doing it until as of late. It had been purely survival instinct at first, to stay up for as long as possible. You pulled open the thick, black, heavy curtains to let the sun stream through the windows, hoping it would keep Azriel away from you, but he’d only reached into the blazing sun to pull them shut again. It how his hands got like this, you realized, when they had started sizzling and one had caught fire from the sun. He hadn’t hissed, but the hazel of his eyes gleamed in a way that had scared you and made your stomach twist. It was paired with a hint of fang, the curve of his lips telling you all you needed to know about him.

You weren’t going anywhere.

The other night, you had attempted escape, to no avail.

Azriel had been away at one of his meetings, with whom or about what you didn’t know, but you’d managed to shimmy open one of the ancient windows. There was a storm raging, and it seemed like the perfect escape. The rain would cover your scent and would wash away your footprints in the mud.

You hadn’t anticipated being hunted through the woods.

Being out in the rain that long hadn’t been good for you, but the fucking you received when Azriel had found you had almost made it worth it. He’d taken you right there in the middle of the forest, and then again when he wrangled you home and lit a fire in the hearth so big it rivaled those of Hel. He’d been silent the entire time, even as he lied you down to dry and fucked you deep. You thought your shivering body was due to his cold hands and wicked tongue, not the oncoming cold.

The noise is followed by a low string of curses that you’re sure he means to keep soft. Your eyes slide shut again, exhausted and too achy to move.

It’s better to keep silent, not draw his attention to you no matter how badly you want a glass of water.

It doesn’t take long for him to enter the room. He holds a bowl in one hand and helps you sit up with the other. You can’t help but notice the bulge of his biceps from underneath his tight shirt as he does so, and you didn’t think that your mouth could possibly get any drier, but here you are.

You stare at the bowl wearily, then back up at him, heart stumbling at the nervous look on his face.

“You can cook?” You ask, watching as he paces to the hearth to stoke the fire. He avoids your eyes, not wanting to see the sympathy swimming in them.

“I used to be able to, once upon a time,” Azriel’s voice is soft, longing. He can no longer consume food that sustains you, you realize. You find yourself aching for him, a little.

“And now you can’t eat,” you trail off, glancing to your bowl again. It smells delicious, the scents of vegetables and spices filling the room with warmth. Your freezing fingers are beginning to thaw already.

Azriel shakes his head in response, gesturing to the bowl. You pick up the spoon, dipping it into the bowl. You see the carrots and shallots swimming in it, along with barley and herbs that make it taste like heaven.

You can’t help but to groan pleasurably, the flavors exploding on your tongue. “For someone who can’t eat, this is delicious.”

“I can eat, but there’s no use,” Azriel says, eyes intent on you as he watches you take another bite. He’s filled with pleasure at the sight of you enjoying something he’d made for you, and he can admit that he did have fun being in the kitchen again. “Everything tastes boring and it’s not the kind of thing that can sustain me.”

Right. Your stomach swirls, thinking about the blood he needs to consume in order to survive. You feel a little sick at the thought that this is what he’s taken you for, to use you for pleasure to ultimately drain you one day.

You shiver but shove the thought away. Azriel’s eyes grow warmer with each spoonful you take, and there’s something itching at you to be nice to him, despite everything that’s happened between the both of you. He had taken you in from the rain, most likely saving your life in the process, and now he’s feeding you.

You find a part of yourself wanting to return the favor.

“Eat with me,” you say, patting the spot you’d just sat up from. It’s piled with pillows but you can surely shove them aside to make room for Azriel.

“What?” He asks, brows furrowing deeply. He looks like he’s about to protest but you’re cutting him off before he can.

“Come on, come eat with me.”

Azriel stares at you like you’ve grown a second head and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“I just told you that it doesn’t matter if I eat.”

“Then come eat.”

It’s clear you’re not giving up on this. Azriel sighs, pushing to his feet and striding towards the kitchen to get his own bowl.

But you’re a stubborn one. He doesn’t expect you to grab for him, and you’re as quick as an asp. He’s not expecting the feel of your hands on his exposed forearms, sleeves of his thick, black shirt rolled up to keep away from the food as he was cooking.

“You can share with me.”

“No,” he says, voice harsh and demanding. “You ned to eat.”

You quirk a brow. “Afraid of catching a little cold?”

Azriel can’t contain the rolling of his eyes and you want to laugh at how human it makes him look.

“I can’t catch a cold.”

“Of course you can’t,” you agree, shoving the pillows onto the floor and biting back a grin at Azriel’s grimace. “Now sit down and eat.”

#azsazz #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #vampire!azriel #vampire bat boys #acomaf #azsazz drabbles

[thechaoticplayer]

that anon wasn’t me but they are absolutely correct and i feel like i should give my two cents worth about all of this among the sea of hate towards the nijisanji livers. i’m not bootlicking the company, but i feel like it’s hypocritical for people to sent hate to the talents after doki said MULTIPLE times not to since she was also a victim of such behavior (and plenty of dragoons no longer even feel safe in her community because of the immense amount of people who are only there to harass and don’t even care for her) this is a rant that just shows that the issue is gray and that we’ll never really know what’s going on as outsiders

tell the remaining members to graduate because their fanbase will follow them is stupid, acting like they didn’t work their asses off to get where they are and haven’t invested so much in their current persona. ike, elira, and vox are some of the most popular talents so that it makes sense for anycolor to force them into making the stream. saying that vox doesn’t care about mental health after his charity stream and saying that it was just for show need to shut up because we’ll never how how he’s really feeling behind the avatar. elira specifically doesn’t deserve the disproportionate amount of hate and disgusting things she received from it from what was essentially revenge porn to art of her being abused, have these people not been taught that if you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all? it costs NOTHING to spam hate on your private account instead.

while i agree that the 2% merch sales and 1/4 (after youtube) of the supas should be raised, that doesn’t mean that the livers aren’t making any money and are poor as several of them have mentioned being able to pay off student loans and have turned their lives around with the money. while it sucks that selen made no profit after investing 200k into projects, maria has mentioned before that covers were more of passion gifts to fans rather than something to make money off of (i DO think that they should be paid for their projects, but that’s just how it goes unfortunately). last cup of coffee was taken down because she didn’t have all of the proper permissions and rushed posting it as a sweet gift to fans, management had full intentions to put it back up.

accusing livers of being bullies based on speculations is idiotic as it just hurts innocent people in the crossfire. these may just look like anime women and men to you, but they are REAL PEOPLE and streaming for nijisanji is their main livelihood! have some empathy, it’s hurting their mental health (the mental health some “dragoons” seem to care about so much)

this goes to say, i am on doki’s side because NO ONE should have to go what she went through, but i just want to show that there are two sides to a coin. i think that nijisanji needs better management, to allow their talents more freedom and a higher percentage of merch sales/supas, and stop treating their livers like shit! stop the harassment and move on, it’s what doki has mentioned multiple times that she wanted! don’t be one of the reasons another liver may have to go what she went through because you have an irrational hate boner for the company

also stream mani / gilty x gilty by maria marionette, finana ryugu, POMU RAINPUFF, meloco kyoran, and kotoka torahime

guys this shit right here

This right here

We need to like post this everywhere bc holy shit people need to understand

You are 100% right!! I agree with everything you just said, esp the "graduate and get out of the company" because they really did bust their asses off to get where they are now and it's a childish way of thinking

#chaotic.text #nijisanji #nijisanji en #vtuber #nijien #Kurosanji #Selen tatsuki #Vox akuma #elira pendora #ike eveland #Black company

[tiddygame]

hello im sorry i wrote more for @myriadblvck ’s streamer au ghoap

I time travelled and around 4,000 words magically appeared in a document titled: "you didn't juju on the fucking beat soap" I think I was possessed by something. anyways here’s that:

tw: is it a panic attack? is it just typical ghost angst? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just be careful it's mostly fluffy (ghost is mean to himself cause he almost kissed soap on the forehead)

also i just realized after i wrote this whole thing, this is based on my general knowledge of dog tags… as an american. writing about the british military. so if you know your shit about the british military, uhh sorry in advance. my bad. from a very brief search i think a lot of it’s the same or at least same enough but this might hurt for people that know a thing or two. whoops!

fun fact: did you know for a brief stint (iirc, >40 years from around 1960s to 2010ish) the american military was printing soldiers’ ss numbers on their tags? yeah can’t imagine why they switched back to serial numbers.

Ghost had been pacing outside of his office for three minutes before he actually entered. When he did, he didn’t say a word. Just sat down in one of the chairs, fidgeting. It wasn't that uncommon of an occurrence, he was normally either gathering his thoughts before talking to Price about something more personal or hiding from what/whoever he didn't feel like dealing with.

When it came to mission debriefs, he was clear and concise. However, personal matters were a different story, and based on the way he anxiously opened and closed his hand, he'd guess this was a personal matter.

Price didn’t ask. He knew that whatever it was Simon needed to say would come out eventually. For now, he continued filling out paperwork and trying to figure out what it was that had Ghost so worked up.

Honestly, there wasn't much guesswork involved. Chances were, it was probably yet another leave request. He knew from Gaz (who was such an awful gossip he sometimes wondered how the man made it through interrogation training) that Simon had been visiting some social media person he had taken a liking to.

(Look, yes, Price knew about Twitch and live streaming and everything. He’s not actually that old. However, as long as he kept up the front of the old man who complained about the keyboard on his phone being too small, he didn’t have to deal with social media. Sure, it caused all of them to joke that he was geriatric and on his last legs, but he was able to convince Roach that he doesn’t know what TikTok is, meaning he wasn’t in charge of reviewing all the bullshit he and Gaz posted. A fair trade if you ask him.)

He also knew that Gaz was convinced the two were in love to the point that he and Roach had a bet going to see when they would get together. Price thought it was rather stupid, but he had to admire their ability to keep it under wraps; if the lieutenant found out they’d been placing monetary bets on his love life, he had a feeling he would need to find replacements for the 141.

Regardless, Price hoped that one day Simon would tell him about the friend but, until then, he was happy to fill out any paperwork that would get the poor man off base. God knows that idiot needs a vacation.

Simon was bouncing his leg, messing with his fingers, and staring off into space.

Three of his nervous habits at once? He must be even more worked up about this than Price thought. But, he was a patient man. It was about seven minutes of companionable silence before Simon spoke.

“I need replacement dog tags. I seem to have lost mine.”

Price looked up. He could see the chain around his neck and the outline of them still under his shirt.

"You do?" Price shuffled his documents around, eventually finding a blank piece of paper he could write on.

"Yes sir."

“And do you know what happened to them?”

“I believe they were knocked off during the fight from the last mission. I didn’t notice until later that night when we were back at base.”

Price paused and looked up from where he had been writing.

The last mission had been an odd one. Ghost normally stuck further away, their eagle-eyed lieutenant typically stayed at long to mid-range, watching for hostiles and making sure whoever else was in the field wouldn’t get caught off guard by someone they hadn’t seen.

During the last mission, he decided to engage at close range, a far cry from his usual approach of sniping hostiles from the shadows.

At one point, their lieutenant had been tackled and almost strangled. The fight had pretty much ended, his attacker was the only one left there. Ghost, being The Ghost, dispatched him with ease, but it stuck out to Price. Ghost may prefer to stay further back, but that didn’t mean that his hand-to-hand combat skills were lacking by any means.

He remembered thinking at the time that it was a clumsy mistake, that Ghost would have had to be intentionally trying to fuck up to get knocked down. He assumed the man had just been caught off guard, but he knew that theory wouldn’t hold up to any scrutiny. Ghost isn’t one to get caught off guard.

What was stranger yet still was Ghost specifically pointing it out in his mission report, calling even more attention to it.

Price set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

“You planned this?”

“I plead the fifth,” said the British man.

Price just continued to stare, curious to see if this was actually going where he thought it was going.

“Is this off the record?” Simon eventually asked.

“Of course,” almost everything the 141 did was of dubious legality. Not reporting a conversation about possible wasted assets was far from the worst thing that had been swept under the rug.

“Then yes.”

“Why?”

Simon didn’t answer. Price waited, giving the man time to gather his thoughts, but based on the way his mouth opened and closed before he slumped in his chair, it seemed he didn’t know what to say at all.

Price had an inkling he might know what this was about.

“You know, Gaz likes to keep me informed,” Ghost looked up at him, somewhat panicked yet resigned, like he already knew what Price was going to say.

“He tells me you have a certain someone you’ve been visiting?”

“Yes.”

“Is this person a friend or…?” Ghost once again paused, calculating the potential consequences of his available responses.

He didn’t answer.

“Hmm,” Price paused, wondering how far to push before he continued, “You want to give this person your old dog tags?”

“Yes.”

Of course he would pre-plan “losing” his dog tags. Price mentally chuckled, leave it to Simon to be such a sap that he wanted to give someone his dog tags yet still make sure to follow protocol so he never actually risked going without them.

He had to hand it to him, it wasn’t a bad plan.

Price had a smile now, knowing his grumpy hard-ass lieutenant had a sweetheart he wanted to be sappy with.

“Romantic or platonic?” Price tried again.

“… I don’t know,” he’d never seen Simon look quite so… forlorn.

Hmm… That would explain his hesitancy.

He was pushing how much Simon was willing to divulge.

“And does this person know the significance of you giving them your dog tags?”

Well, curiosity killed the cat…

“No, they don’t.”

…But satisfaction brought it back. How interesting, the plot thickens.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

There was a long pause, after which it dawned on Price, “You want to give them your dog tags because they don’t know.”

It wasn’t a question, he already knew. Simon somehow slumped further, attempting to hide his face as if he weren’t wearing a balaclava.

His grumpy hard-ass lieutenant. Absolutely smitten with someone yet too shy to say anything, deciding on a quiet confession, one they likely wouldn’t pick up on.

Price chuckled, jotting down the necessary information he would need when he got his hands on the right paperwork, polishing up some of the details of Ghost’s story to make it more believable, before reading off what he had written to Ghost to make sure he got everything right. Ghost nodded once, and that was that.

“Replacement tags will probably be here in two to three weeks.”

“I would like to request leave for two to three weeks from now.”

Price handed him the form, having already grabbed it. He noticed how the man seemed to calm at just the thought of getting to visit his mystery person.

Oh, he thought to himself.

I am definitely joining Roach and Gaz’s bet.

<><><><>

They were lying on the daybed in his streaming room, or, well…

No, that’s not quite right.

Simon was lying on the daybed.

Johnny was lying on top of Simon.

His computer was still softly playing quiet (non-DMCA) music from where his stream had just ended. Instead of turning it off, he had decided to unplug his headset and leave it on, the music just loud enough to be heard.

Simon was sleepily scrolling through his phone, trying to pretend like he hadn’t almost dropped several times while dozing off, desperately trying to stay awake. Johnny had watched his struggle and decided to lay down right on top of Simon, not even trying to pretend like he was trying to fit on the remaining space on the daybed. Why would he when Simon was right there?

It was meant to be a joke, having thrown himself on top of him to annoy the man into sleeping on an actual bed (he claimed he wasn’t tired but the comically loose grip on his phone and the waking world said otherwise.) However, unfortunately for said sleepy man, Simon was very, very comfortable.

His head was resting on Simon’s chest, arms under his back like he actually was just a pillow, one hand reaching higher to feel where Simon’s hair had begun to grow out slightly.

I wonder if he would let me help him cut it…

Simon had said he was like a clingy cat, his free hand running through his hair in the same manner one would pet a cat to prove his point. The joke's on him though, he likes it.

Simon had tried to stop but Johnny didn’t let him, threatening to tickle him if he did.

(“I’m not ticklish, I just don’t want you throwing a tantrum.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say,” he was definitely ticklish, and one of these days he was going to prove it.)

At some point, Simon had given up on keeping a grip on his phone, letting it drop to the side. They would probably have to go digging through the cushions to get it out of whatever crevice it had fallen to. As of right now, the idea of ever leaving his spot was comical at best.

The sun had begun to set, orange and pink tinted light filtering through the sheer curtains, making everything look more like a dream. Or maybe it was just the proximity to the man below him that was making him feel so serene.

Johnny took a second to inhale and exhale slowly, appreciating the moment. He hoped that this memory, this beautiful tranquility with Simon, would be something he cherished for a long time to come.

He knew that they had things to do. Soon, Simon would be catching a flight at some ungodly hour, headed back to save the world yet again. But for now, he was happy to nap away in their own little bubble. He never was a religious man but here in the arms of Simon Riley, he was tempted to think heaven was real, and that it was right in front of him.

“I almost forgot,” Simon mumbled, not sounding any more awake than he looked, reaching up for the collar of his shirt. Thankfully, the hand that was running his hair remained. He didn’t like proving the cocky bastard right, but he probably would have thrown a tantrum had he tried to remove it.

“They had some fuck up along the line or something and accidentally printed me an extra set of dog tags. I was just gonna toss ‘em but thought you might want—”

Johnny was now wide awake, sitting up and yanking the chain out of his hands.

“Don’t you fucking dare throw them away, of course I want them!” Simon’s face reddened, a frequent treat for Johnny now that he had gotten more comfortable going without the mask. Simon might have been good at keeping a poker face, but without his mask, he was a blushing mess.

He wondered if the blush was from his obvious jubilation at the gift or if it was because he was now straddling the man. Such pesky details, however, (even ones that would keep future Johnny awake at night) were far less important than examining the necklace in his hands.

It was obvious this was the older set, the metal worn and dented in some spots though the writing was still clearly visible.

“Calm down, I’m not going to take it from you,” the gruff tone was severely undermined by the aforementioned blush. It was hard to sound tough while half asleep on a daybed and being used as another man’s pillow.

Johnny stared at them for a little bit longer, feeling every dent and wondering the story behind how they got there, before putting them on.

He smiled at the man under him, “How do I look?”

He was going to joke, asking if he looked like a rough and tough soldier ready for war, but something in Simon’s eyes made him stop short.

He was looking with… with… Reverence was far too intense of a word for the softness of the moment but it was the only word that came to mind.

Simon reached up with his hand, grabbing the tags, his knuckles grazing his chest.

Well, that’s just fucking unfair.

Simon was supposed to be the blushy one. Not him, goddammit!

Though, he thinks when they make eye contact, they end up tied for who is blushing the most. They stare for a while, maybe it should have felt awkward but it was too adoring for either to feel any form of uncomfortability.

Neither moved.

It was Johnny that broke first, smiling at him, yet again tracing all of the scars he could see. It was his new favorite hobby, especially when Simon would blush making the scars on his face all the more visible.

He took one more second to sleepily appreciate the man before him, then went back to using him as a pillow. His hands went back to where they were before, one under Simon’s back and one playing with his hair. His head, however, did not fall back to his chest, instead resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Simon’s hand returned to running through his hair, his other now coming up to rest on his back, rubbing up and down a few times before the sleepiness from earlier fully returned with his hand stopping somewhere around the small of his back.

Johnny leaned up slightly and gave a chaste kiss to the part of his neck that he could reach, then settled back to where he was. The hand in his hair paused.

“Thank you, Simon.”

A second of delay, and then the hand continued.

“You’re welcome, Johnny.”

Simon shuffled slightly, getting comfy before—

A kiss, on his forehead.

He couldn’t stop the blush and smile if he wanted to. He snuggled closer before drifting off to sleep.

When he woke, he was in his bed, practically tucked in. His window had been opened slightly, blackout curtains that had been drawn closed now swaying slightly with the breeze. When he focused, he realized he could smell petrichor and hear heavy rainfall outside with the occasional grumble of thunder.

There was a note on his nightstand. As he expected, it was Simon’s handwriting, apologizing for not waking him up before he left. It said that he had made breakfast for him (pancakes, with enough for when his sister would inevitably try to steal them), that he made sure to lock the front door, and left the window cracked.

He giggled sleepily at the last line. Regardless of the context, it always made Simon anxious to have the curtains open, much less to leave a window open. But, he also must've known how much Johnny loved the rain and set his worries aside, just this once, so he could wake up to the rain.

He set the note down and flopped back onto his pillows, his hand felt something cold and he remembered.

The dog tags.

John MacTavish is no stranger to crushes and heartbreaks.

He's had high school sweethearts, been in and out of love, he knows his way around the world of dating. Which is why he most certainly does not squeal and kick his legs while holding the tags like some kid with their first crush.

He did it like a grown man, thank you very much.

He grabbed his phone and sent Simon the worst pun he could think of; it was tradition at this point to send him some god-awful joke before his flight.

Simon has probably already forgotten about the whole exchange. He probably woke up and assumed he threw them away when he noticed he wasn't wearing them. It was probably stupid, an insignificant gesture with no meaning. But to Johnny, it felt like everything.

He sighed dreamily at the ceiling and felt the cool metal once more. Thunder roared outside. He thought about how he had felt in the man's arms. Thought about how much he wanted that again.

God.

His phone dinged and he immediately reached over to grab it.

I'm fucked, aren't I?

<><><><>

Elsewhere, Ghost was in an airport terminal, having far too much time to think.

Over the weekend, it was almost impressive how many times Ghost had talked himself into and back out of giving Soap his dog tags. He really hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

Simon felt the spot that Johnny had kissed and wondered if he remembered it. Wondered if he had meant it.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked cradled in his arms when he carried him to his room, the way he had reached out for him when he laid him in bed. The way he had grabbed his wrist and clung to it, grumbling when Simon tried to pull it back.

If asked, he'd say that he had woken up late and that's why he was so far behind schedule. He'd keep the part where he sat there, kneeled in front of Johnny's bed, waiting for him to fall back into a deep enough sleep to pull his arm away all to himself. After all, it would have been rude to wake him up, no?

He had made sure to plug up his phone and, upon seeing the forecasted weather, hesitated before opening the window. It was only barely cracked, just enough for the sounds of the outside world to shamble in, but not so wide as to worry about water damage. He stared at it, convincing himself not to worry and that Johnny would like waking up to the fresh air.

He turned back to make sure the man was still asleep, still comfy, but stopped for a moment. He approached the bed and hesitated before running his fingers through his stupid haircut, almost wishing the man would grab his arm and give him an excuse to stay.

He didn't. Simon did, however, lean in to give him one last kiss on the forehead as some stupidly sappy goodbye, before his brain turned back on and he ripped himself away.

What the fuck is wrong with you? What? He grabs your arm in your sleep so you feel entitled to be able to kiss him?

Simon backed away, staring at the hand that had just been in his hair. He felt dirty.

For fuck’s sake, relax. It's not that big of a deal, you did it earlier; the man fell asleep in your arms, a forehead kiss isn't too much of a stretch.

He went to the kitchen and scrubbed his hands for a while, only stopping when he thought about how much water he was wasting. He still felt dirty.

Not a stretch? You don't get to decide that. How would you feel if someone tried to kiss you while you were unconscious? If they said that they felt they should be allowed to do so because you fell asleep?

He had started making pancakes. Something quick, easy, and reheatable for when Soap woke up. Like making him breakfast would make up for trying to kiss him in his sleep.

Why can't you just be normal?

Eventually, and after a run-in with Soap’s hell-spawn of a twin, he had to leave. The time on his phone showed that he should probably already be halfway to the airport by now but he has always been a selfish man.

He had snagged some paper and left Soap a quick note, hoping the apology would make him feel better about worse sins than not waking him up. It didn't.

He stared at the man for a second, admiring him, before he reminded himself that he was a fucking creep and left.

The storm left the flight delayed by 1.5 hours. Ghost had sat waiting, wireless headphones on and connected, but not playing anything. He had far too much time to think.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked, his dog tags around his neck, silhouetted by the fading light, the sun behind his head as if even the stars knew they could never compare to him.

He stood and started pacing. Amongst the screaming children, feuding families, and people who think they're entitled to listen to their music without headphones, one middle-aged man having an existential crisis didn't stick out.

He thought about how he had never understood weighted blankets so well until Johnny had thrown himself on top of him. It should've hurt. He should've been annoyed. Instead, Simon selfishly hoped he would never get up.

It took him a while to put his finger on what he had been feeling exactly. Finally, he realized.

There, in that moment, he had never been so happy to be alive. It was a startling emotion to discern amongst the swath of negativity he normally felt. It startled him so much, he had snapped out of his reverie and stopped short in his pacing. When he checked the time, he saw he had one missed text from Johnny.

Soap (art streamer): i was trying to think of an airplane joke but none of them landed

Simon chuckled and sat down; he almost forgot about their dumb little tradition.

Ghost: Disliked.

Soap (art streamer): everyone is so mean 2 me 💔

Ghost: It is not my fault your pun was so Boeing.

Soap (art streamer): well i thought i could wing it

Ghost: Did you look up what giving do-

Ghost: About the tags, you

Ghost: I think you make me want to live

Ghost sighed and fell back further into his seat, coming to a conclusion that his subconscious had long ago discovered.

I'm in love, aren't I?

Soap (art streamer): speechless huh? finally, the Wright reaction to my comedic genius

Ghost: Absolutely awful, Mactavish.

Soap (art streamer): :D

Took you long enough, dumbass.

<><><><>

Soap’s twin spent a good bit of time staring at her brother's new accessory.

“Is something wrong?” he challenged, hoping she wasn't in a bothersome mood.

She failed miserably at hiding her shit-eating grin but didn't care.

“Nope!” she replied.

She had run into Ghost early that morning before he left.

"Detergent."

She was pretty sure he never even learned her name, just jumped straight into calling her detergent.

"Ghoul," she greeted, glaring at the man.

Being required by law to not trust him, she checked on her brother as he was still gathering his things and noticed the necklace.

“You gave him your dog tags,” she accused, like she was framing him for murder.

“Yes, I did,” he replied casually, as per usual robbing her of the fight she so desperately wanted to pick.

“Did you tell him what it means?”

“...What does it mean?”

Damn, he was good. If she wasn't convinced that he was the devil incarnate, she might have fallen for his feigned ignorance.

“100 bucks and you buy my silence.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“200 then.”

“It doesn't even mean anything.”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose you might be right… JOHN!” their neighbors were probably going to complain.

“What the fuck are you doing?” ooh he was getting panicked now.

“If it doesn't matter then you won't mind me telling him to look it up,” she started walking to his room, “JOHNSON!”

“Fucking Christ, woman! Just— Fucking— Here.”

He pulled out his wallet and started counting bills. Damn, that was easier than she thought.

“What did you say? 100?”

“Nope! That was before inflation. Now it’s 300.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You said 200!”

“So you admit you tried to scam me?”

“Just take the 100 and g-”

She didn't even get to yell, he reached for more before she could finish taking a deep breath in.

“Just shut the fuck up! Here! Three fucking hundred!”

She was tempted to raise her price further, but she was no gambler, she was a strategist. She knew a defeated man when she saw one. If she played this right, she could extort money out of him for a long time to come.

Something, something, vampires not fully killing their victims and all that.

She took the money, counted it, and then held out her hand to shake.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Wraith!”

He didn't shake her hand.

“Christ, both of you are awful.”

He packed his stuff and left, broke, broken, and defeated.

She ate as many pancakes as she could, rich and victorious.

She thought about how much power, how much blackmail she had in this moment.

“I’m fantastic actually,” she walked to her room.

I am going to be so fucking rich by the time they get their shit together.

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #streamer au #streamer! soap #streamer!soap #streamer! au #ft. Old Man Price and Chronic Shit Stirrer Twin Sister (unnamed) #ghost never changes soaps contact name #my version of ghost in this au has convinced himself that he's nothing more than an incel/neckbeard #and that's why he is the way that he is #[I know my mess of 'family hcs' or whatever was derailed to shit but I still think ghost would call his twin detergent] #i’m scheduling this for when i’ll be asleep so goodnight i hope you all sleep well and drink plenty of water #my writing