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glittering-moonlillie · 1 year

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My Beloved (Damian Wayne x Reader)

Word Count: 2740

Warnings: None

Summary: Not knowing how to express his feelings any other way, Damian resorts to calling you pet names in his mother's tongue in order to air out his pent up affection.

“Habibti, can you hand me the yellow frosting?” Damian was in deep trouble - absolutely terrible, hideous trouble.

“Of course!” You reached over to your left and handed him the buttercream, the arabic pet name flying over your head.

In his language, Habibti was a sign of endearment given to your lover, usually meaning something along the lines of My Love or Darling - but to you, he was utterly convinced that you believed it was a form of belittlement similar to Idiot.

Of course, Damian was too afraid to correct you and he was not sure if you would believe him if he tried. He would rather keep it a sweet secret to himself, even if his fragile heart was practically leaping its way out of his rib cage to expose itself to you.

“You know, if you want to call me something mean at least make it so I can understand you.” You laughed, a noise that would certainly haunt him late at night when he was alone and longed for your presence.

“But it’s much more fun seeing you like this.” You scruched your nose, your forehead creasing with the movement. Your lips were parted but no words came out. It was an adorable look he had grown to love despite how dorky you appeared.

You retaliated with a poorly placed handful of orange frosting along his cheek, your lips twisting into a pout that only served to make the fantasies of kissing you worsen.

Orange was an obnoxiously disgusting color but he would bathe in a lazarus pit full of orange frosting if you wished it.

He ran his thumb along his cheek and licked away whatever frosting was there. Alfred’s special buttercream frosting really was to die for. Damian enjoyed the way your eyes slightly widened, relishing in the fact that it wouldn’t have been noticeable to anyone else. He liked to think that the scarlet decorating your face was because of him being undoubtedly sexy, and not the fact that it was because it was a hot summer’s day.

“You’re staring, ya amar.” He smirked. “And I believe that cookie has way too much frosting, it looks like Picaso threw up all over it.”

Ya Amar had to be Damian’s second favorite pet name for you, translating to my moon. He often recalled the way his mother praised the moon for its beauty, treating it similar to a guiding life force. More than anything, Damian wanted to be the sun that illuminated your countenance - to be the man who kept you steady and loved you even if you just saw yourself as a clumpy rock. The name suited you perfectly. You were his beautiful, crated moon with star imbued eyes and a body that reflected the power of an inescapable black hole.

“Hey, are those cookies almost finished? B wants them set out within the hour-” Tim walked in, his under eye bags accentuated further with the distasteful dark blue sweater he threw on.

His brother paused, rolling his eyes at the state of the dining table. Damian hoped that the kitchen disaster was enough of a distraction for him not to notice the lovey-dovey eyes he assuredly was giving his best friend.

“We’ll clean it up, Tim. Sorry about that.” You replied quickly. “But most of the cookies are done, Damian still has a few to finish though.”

You nudged him with your elbow, grinning wildly like the Cheshire cat.

“Just don’t get distracted flirting with each other, I don’t want to deal with an irritated Bruce.”

“Shut up, Timothy. At least we aren’t aggressively making out like how you and Conner were at the last gala.” Damian shot back.

Tim frowned. “I’m too tired to deal with this. Try not to explode anything, okay?”

Damian waved off his brother and went back to decorating one of the cookies for the large event at Wayne Manor tonight. It was a charity event to raise awareness of the increase in homeless population on the streets of Gotham, and alongside the event, his family was hosting a soup kitchen for any struggling person on the streets. Along with a hearty, full course meal, they would be served one of the cookies being decorated by the two of you.

Although Damian’s father normally did not allow any friend’s to charity events, you were always an exception due to the fact that if you weren’t there, Damian would blow a gasket and murder someone if he was in a suit for too long. Your presence beside Damian was often looked over when you were both younger, but now that a few years had gone by plenty of journalists speculated the possibility of “a secret blooming relationship.”

The common theory circulating around Gotham was the idea that his father was disapproving of them being together since you were a “commoner,” therefore excusing the lack of concrete evidence of the relationship existing. Damian had found the notion completely ridiculous; even if his father disapproved of you in that context, that would not stop him from loving you the way he always dreamed, consequences be damned.

You treated the whole situation with carefree ease, giggling at the awful pictures and wack job theories concocted by 40 year old men looking to sell half-baked news. On one hand, Damian was pleased that the unwanted attention did not bother you, but deep down he also felt a pang of poison seep its way into his bloodstream. Was the idea of being his lover that much of a joke?

The clicking of a phone keyboard brought him back to reality. Damian peered over your shoulder and saw Safari pulled up.

“What ever are you doing, habibti?”

“I’m trying to decipher what you are calling me.” You said. “Can you repeat that last word for me, please?”

The youngest Wayne felt every single pour in his body drip in sweat, excess saliva pooling in his mouth. Perhaps if his blood was functioning properly, then he would have found a better response other than a simple no.

It was very rare for Damian to be properly caught off guard. He should have thought that you would have looked up the words he was repeating, should have come up with a game plan instead of looking like a strangled goose.

His first instinct was to snatch the phone away and cut it up with the plastic, buttercream decorated knife. Damian could pretend to be possessed by a ghost and buy you a better phone with specially installed programs that inhibited your ability to look up any Arabic term. Yes, that was a wonderful idea-

“How are there zero search results?!!” You exclaimed, turning to him. “Did you make up a language or something? Why are there absolutely zero results??”

Damian looked at your phone again. You certainly took some liberties with the spelling of the pet name, letting him relax into his seat. It was nowhere close to how the word was spelled. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Why are there two y’s in the word?”

Your cheeks flushed. “Well maybe if you told me the other 20 languages you spoke I’d get somewhere.”

For the next 15 minutes, you angrily punched in 17 different ways to spell Habibti, all massively incorrect and leading to nowhere. You eventually threw your phone on the ground with a huff while he cackled.

“This is so unfair. I demand restitution for the amount of time I have lost thanks to you.” Damian hummed.

“I can’t give you back those missing minutes, but I can pay you back with your favorite meal and my full attention tonight.”

You pretended to ponder over the offer, but Damian knew you could not say no to Alfred’s cooking. “Okay, fine. But only because I love Alfred’s food and nothing else.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moon peered over the horizon, the stars twinkling like falling fairy dust on a navy blue canvas. Hundreds of Gotham’s richest filled Wayne Manor, most of which were dressed with gaudy colors and bedazzlements, with feathers and overpriced jewels.

Damian was dressed in a dark green suit, one that Alfred had picked a little while ago. He was fully aware of the lustful stares he was given by the woman (and some of the men) there but he could care less. There was only one person he cared about impressing and that said person was “discreetly” stuffing themselves with a plate full of food in the corner.

As an attendant of the Gala, you were in a stunning dress that fit every single curve of your body marvelously, all courtesy to Stephanie who helped you pick out the dress to begin with. Heat rose to his cheeks and he began fumbling with his tie.

Damian was not the only one there to notice your beauty either. As you were trying to polish off your plate of food, several men had made attempts to woo you onto the dancefloor. Thankfully you declined all of their advances - Damian was not sure what he would have felt if you did. If it weren’t for the hundreds of other people present, he would have unquestionably sliced off the suitors hands if they tried to touch you again.

“Ya Helo, you look…” His throat clogged as you stared up at him. “You look stunning…”

Damian was convinced that your smile was the brightest thing in the universe; he was also sure that it could cure any bout of irritation or sadness possible.

“About time you showed up! Are you done flirting with the 70 year old women yet or does your dad want you back in there?” You poked his chest, the touch feeling like an electrical transfer.

“You know that I would never flirt with those women back there, Habibti. My dad just wanted me to manipulate them into giving more of their money to charity.”

Before you could pull your hand away, he clasped it and brought it closer to his heartbeat. Your hands were a pebble compared to his own and yet they still managed to fit perfectly together like Incan architecture.

“I-I…” You looked away with a crooked smile. “I know that, obviously. I just wanted to tease you a bit!”

When you turned towards him once more, he noticed the way your eyes trailed down his visage, strawberry lips parting ever so slightly. Your laughter died in your throat. The scene felt like the ridiculous romcoms he analyzed from time to time while you were over. All he had to do was lean in a little bit closer and his dreams would be fulfilled-

The tight grip of someone’s hand seized his arm, effectively pulling him away from his darling. The movement caught Damian off guard (the second time that day). There was only a select handful of people who were able to sneak up on him like that…

“Mother.” Damian seethed, turning to gaze upon the woman with a cold glare. “What are you doing here?”

Fitted for the occasion in a sleek black dress, Talia crossed her arms and matched her son’s glare. “Is a mother not allowed to visit her son, especially when he has not messaged her in months?”

Damian stood in front of you, his hands slightly raised in case Talia decided to activate her mother bear mode. Talia’s eyes furrowed, her lip pursing.

“How about you and your little friend follow me upstairs. You can tell me all about how you two met.” She suggested but her voice made it sound more like a threat.

Damian hated how your smile disappeared and was replaced with an apprehensive grimace. He reached for your hand and squeezed.

“Dami…”

“It’ll be alright habib albi…” He whispered, squeezing your hand once again. As the three of them climbed up the stairs, the soft tune of the violin faded into nothing, not even background noise.

“Mother, I find this hardly necessary. Could you have interfered in my life some other day?” Damian groaned.

“Of course not, my son.” Talia shut the door of the room they entered. “If I had, I wouldn’t have been able to meet the girl who stole my beloved’s heart.”

Damian’s heart dropped. “I- what?”

“Y-you must be mistaken. Damian and I…Damian doesn’t like me like that!” You stuttered out with nervous laughter.

Talia raised a single eyebrow. “I find that extremely hard to believe considering what I heard him call you.”

Fuck. Damian mentally slapped himself. He should have known that his mother would have heard him call you that. The pet name was just so natural to him, slipping off his tongue like sweet honey, he forgot that his mother would have been able to understand.

You tilted your head towards Damian then back to Talia, reflexively playing with your hair. “I…maybe you misheard? He calls me these made up names, they really have no meaning.”

“Wait, so he has not told you what they meant?”

“No, he refused to tell me and when I looked it up, there were no search results.” You said.

“Mother, please-”

Talia raised her hand to silence him. “I can’t believe you have been lying to her, Damian! I have raised you better than that. She deserves to know that you are calling her Love of my heart and Darling in Arabic!”

You snapped your head towards Damian, who was internally screaming a colorful variety of cuss words towards his mother. He expected you to look horrified and slap him away, to run for the hills and never speak to him again.

Instead you had this beautiful awestruck look in your galaxy-filled eyes. Your face was a deep crimson.

“Dami…” You hesitated. “Is this true?”

The hopeful tone in your voice was as intoxicating as a few shots of bourbon.

Damian imagined that the day he confessed to you would be atop a starry hill with perfectly blooming jasmines and evening primroses. He would pull you into his arms and whisper his love for you when the moon was at its peak, ending it with a kiss if you let him. It would have been perfect, if fate allowed it to be.

However, there were no starry hilltops or sweetly smelling fragrances - no moon that would peer over them and give its blessing. But you were there with him, an arm's reach away. As long as you were there, wasn't that all that mattered?

Damian glared at his mother, who was in the background with a smug smile, pretending to not overhear the conversation. When she didn’t get the message, he cleared his throat as loud as he could.

“Fine. I suppose I’ll leave you to it - but I expect you to message me afterward since I did the hard work for you.” Talia sauntered her way out of the room, leaving you and Damian alone.

“You didn’t answer my question, Dami…” You glanced up at him with a shy smile. “Were you really secretly giving me pet names in Arabic?”

Reaching for your hands, Damian pulled you close to create a few inch gap. “Yeah…I wanted a way to show you how much I…how much I loved you without you figuring out.”

You giggled, the vibrations of it causing his heart to flutter. “You’re a dork, you know that? I would have reciprocated your feelings no matter what, but it would have been nice if you had told me sooner.”

Your finger trailed down his neck to his collarbone, leaving a trail of lightning in its wake. “I demand more restitution for the time lost.”

Damian hummed, pretending to think of the perfect solution despite him already having one. You edged closer to him.

“How about,” he began, “I kiss you until your lips are as blue as this night sky?”

But before you could respond, Damian already brought his lips to yours. The dreams and fantasies he had did not live up to the actual softness of your lips - the subtle taste of raspberries filling his senses.

Your hands tangled into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. “Shouldn’t we go back to the Gala?”

Damian looked back at the door, contemplating how mad his father would be if he ditched the rest of the party. It was waning closer to midnight anyway and he could just say you were tired.

He turned back to you, his smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “He’ll be fine. Besides, I would rather be with you than flirt with 70 year old women.”

Your attempted giggle was covered with the rougher press of his lips against yours, causing you to fall backwards onto the guest bed. After years of calling you Habibti, now he could finally say it without you thinking it was an insult.

Damian is a simp with huge dimples. Fight me.

#Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x Reader #Damian Al Ghul #Damian Al Ghul x Reader #Damian Wayne x Y/n #Romance #Damian has dimples!!#DC #Batfam #Fluff #Damian speaking Arabic #Arabic pet names #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Alfred Pennyworth #Tim Drake makes an appearance out of his tomb #Comics

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canarydarity · 1 year

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Tango hadn’t quite yet wrapped his mind around the fact that he was here. Having done it now three times before didn’t make starting over any easier, didn’t make the game any less terrifying. He tried not to let his eyes stray to the timer perpetually counting down in the corner of his vision, but it didn’t matter—each beat of his heart was a second, and his pulse was keeping time even if he was trying not to.

Tango thrust the shovel back into the ground, the dirt on their island moist and clumpy instead of crumbling and dry, and resolutely ignored the reminder that this game—like all the others—would likely end with him fertilizing this very ground. He wasn’t really expecting to win. Tango had no idea why it was that he was here.

“Oh, it’s Joel!” Etho called from the other end of their small patch of land, and the call sounded like a warning. At first, Tango was thinking about how you almost wouldn’t believe the two had been soulmates last time, but as he thought about it, he changed his mind; what is a soulmate but he who knows and understands you best of all? If Etho’s call was a warning, it was because he knew Joel demanded one.

He hadn’t looked up, but the waves made by Etho’s boat washed further up the shore toward the ground Tango was terraforming, and he shuffled a step or two to the side in distaste. He hated the water; it always made him feel…extinguished.

“I can’t believe you’ve replaced me with a cow, Etho!”

Tango snorted. No offense to Joel, but he could. It was probably more telling of Etho though than his spurned ex-soulmate.

Tango pulled his shovel out of the ground, tossing its contents off to the side. He primed to dig into the ground again.

“Hey guys, are you setting up here, by the way?”

He stopped. Tango knew that voice—he spent weeks obtaining fluency in its passive anxiety, in the undertones of worry about doing something wrong.

He had no trouble finding Jimmy; Tango simply looked up and he was there, one hand in his pocket, the other scratching the back of his neck like he did when he was feeling unsure. His face was scrunched in a kind of wince and his eyes shifty, but this too was not unusual for him. The familiarity hit Tango like a truck—no, that wasn’t enough. What hit harder than a truck?

He hadn’t seen Jimmy since…

Since when? Since they’d watched Scar get eaten by zombies? Since they got separated in the commotion of having succeeded in leveling the playing field of green names and changing targets? Since whatever last brush of shoulders or arms or hands occurred before he fell to his knees, alone, on the doorstep of the boat Joel and Etho argued over now only a few feet away?

“Cause…we’re the bad boys and we were gonna set up here.” Jimmy finished awkwardly, trying to sound firm and falling flat; the phrase came off like it was said by a kid who was threatening you with a toy sword but acting like he could use it to deal you some good damage.

Tango raised an eyebrow; it took him only a second later to realize that he was smiling (he wondered when that had started). Bad boys, huh? One guess as to where that name came from—but Tango couldn’t let his gaze stray from Jimmy to lay eyes on Joel; he heard him and Etho bickering in the background, but it breached not a thought in Tango’s mind.

He wanted to laugh, or—no, he wanted to play scared; he wanted to double over and fake being in pain like anyone should do when pretend stabbed by a kid playing with things he couldn’t understand.

But Joel was still yelling and Etho was still taunting, and the division between this little island and the hill across the water was clear. Tango dropped his shovel and wiped his hands off on his pants so he didn’t do anything stupider.

Skizz and Impulse giggled and laughed about Jimmy’s claims, but Jimmy seemed none the wiser; stopping to place a furnace and quickly cook some steak; glancing over his shoulder, glancing at those on the island, glancing at Joel. These games always made him jumpy, Tango knew that.

Tango hadn’t looked away, which was how he knew Jimmy’s gaze didn’t land on him once.

It was Etho that caught his attention at last. “No! Don’t you dare…”

Tango scrambled up the slant he was working on to see Etho on the other side rowing away, cow in tow, and Joel smirking on the edge of the sand, arrow notched. There was not a second more of observation before he let it fly and it made its mark.

Tango whined at the loss; of course, Joel had no way of knowing just how hard a time they’d been having with their bovine friends, but even if he had, he’d likely just have laughed.

“YES!” he heard Joel scream, jumping around in the sand; a sore-winner he definitely was.

Tango was already skidding down the side of their island and into the water when Joel shouted again, “Jimmy, run!”

He heard his soulmates cry of “wait wait wait!” but wasted no glance backward as he climbed up onto the mainland, shaking water out of his hair as he did; steam evaporated off of him as droplets flew.

“Hey!” Tango shouted after Joel, though he clearly only had eyes for antagonizing Etho. “that took us 30 minutes to find!”

Tango was knocked over from behind before he got the chance to see if he’d managed to get through to Joel at all (this was probably for the best, as he definitely hadn’t). He felt the fine gravel of the sand dig into his palms where he caught himself, but he barely registered the tick of damage from the shove and subsequent collapse; not like he felt it from the realization of who it had come from.

Eyes wide and blinking like he couldn’t believe what it was he’d done either, there was Jimmy, only a few feet away. His chest heaved from the running, but he was otherwise still, half turned towards where Tango kneeled on the ground, half turned towards where Joel was running off into the woods.

Neither of them looked away. Tango felt his health regenerate, but he didn’t think he believed it. Sure, he was at full hearts, but then why did he feel like the sand beneath him was shifting and making space for his burial; had Grian coded in some sort of quicksand?

Tango used their hesitation to process the fact that this hit hadn’t harmed them both; he knew logically that it shouldn’t have, but the experience was something else entirely; the feeling somewhat akin to grief.

“C'mon, Jimmy,” fell out of the trees to which Jimmy’s back was turned, and Tango watched him tense as the sound reached them both. Also behind him and to their right was Etho climbing out of his boat, feet touching down on the shore, path ahead pre-determined.

Jimmy broke their eye contact only to close his eyes, and when he opened them again he swallowed and said “sorry, rancher,” feet beginning to backpedal. It was quiet enough that Tango could believe it just for him, and that implication of not wanting anyone else to hear shoveled the last of the dirt on Tango’s corpse, surely, it had to. Jimmy didn’t turn away—not until he stumbled and absolutely had to, not being able to risk the danger of walking backwards anymore.

Tango rubbed his hands on his pants, feeling the sand and stray pebbles peel themselves from the indents they’d created in his palms upon impact, scrambling to his feet to follow. He bent only to scoop up a rock on his way.

Even just inside the first row of trees, the forest was a different place entirely. The beach fell away, but the scene change didn’t do anything to turn the tide of their circumstances. Tango stopped just behind Etho, caught up just in time to hear:

“Everything precious you have in this series, Joel, it’ll be taken from you, you understand?”

Joel didn’t look concerned. He was still smirking, still playing up the part of the bitter ex (and seemingly getting too much enjoyment out of it, for Tango's liking). It was just like Joel to enjoy the breakup more than the relationship.

Jimmy was further away, half behind Joel and resolutely avoiding looking in Tango’s direction; he was always hiding behind things he was taller than. Tango remembered when Jimmy’s go-to source of cover used to be him.

Joel just rolled his eyes, a scoff his only response. He placed both hands on Jimmy and pushed, jumpstarting him into moving. Tango somehow managed to resist the urge to narrow his eyes further. He dropped the rock he was holding—he felt stupid for grabbing it now; it wasn’t like he was going to throw it; it wasn’t like he was capable.

Bad boys they’d said; the Jimmy that Tango remembered had been kind. Maybe he had to rework his definition of a soulmate; he didn’t think he wanted to.

Etho turned too, having done what he’d intended. Tango felt more so than saw Etho pat him on the shoulder as he passed. He didn’t need to look at his timer to know that not even 3 minutes had passed.

“Yeah, I’m with you, Etho,” he said—but he was still staring off into the trees. He watched until Joel and Jimmy had woven too far into them to be visible anymore, but Jimmy didn’t turn back once.

#hey guys i havent thought about anything besides jimmy hitting tango for days hahaha #happy belated gay minecraft birthday to me amiright #worm writes #limited life spoilers #limited life #limited life fic #team rancher #boat boys #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #tangotek #tango tek #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans #etho #ethoslab #team rancher fic #life series fic

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belltari · 6 months

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Happy (early) Halloween!!

I finished editing this today but I couldn't wait until Halloween to post it so here it is, an EXTREMELY self indulgent ghoap sex-in-the-closet Halloween fic.

If you're under 18, you shouldn't be reading it.

warnings & tags: plot with porn (a halloween party, its what the boys deserve), terrible dad jokes, flirty banter, established relationship (I'm imagining that it's still new, like only Price knows and Gaz is putting the pieces together), some dom!ghost tones (nothing too dominant), pleasure dom!Simon (that man just wants Johnny to feel good), public sex (it's a blowjob in a closet), face rutting, cum eating, someone gets called a "good boy" a couple of times

it's about 3 thousand-ish words

This was my first time writing something this explicit, so please keep in mind that I have a lot to learn. The other writers in the cod fandom are excellent teachers and inspire me a great deal.

If you just want to read the porn, start reading after the ' -- '

Anyways, I hope you enjoy and have a great rest of your spooky season!

Approaching the mess hall, Johnny chuckles at the purple and orange 'Happy Halloween!' banner hanging above the doorway, it's very clearly homemade with streaky paint and clumpy glitter making up the words and what looks like an old, tattered tarp as the banner. He wonders if it was a team-building exercise for the recruits, as this whole party was a mixer for them to get to know each other better.

Paper party streamers act as a curtain on the wide doorframe, blocking Johnny's view of the interior of the mess hall, he can feel the bass of the music thumping in his chest and hear cheerful laughter from the other side. Pushing the curtain aside, he steps through to see the short corridor has been decorated. Plastic bats with light-up red eyes hang on strings from the ceiling, jack-o'-lantern string lights flickering along the walls accompanied with signs with sayings like "enter if you dare" and "turn back" written on them. When he gets to the end, he surveys the now-repurposed dining hall, more streamers, banners, and cheap plastic decorations decorate the room. The lights have been turned off and the windows covered, floodlights and spotlights covered with coloured transparent pieces of plastic are the only lights illuminating the room creating a dramatic scene.

Several tables are being used as pumpkin carving stations, one of the recruits is ripping the guts out and complaining about the smell, and another is stabbing their pumpkin with a hunting knife. Gaz is there, dressed as a vampire with a long cape and plastic fangs in his mouth, to supervise. He's laughing with them telling them they need to work on their techniques a bit more when he catches Soap's eye giving him a smile and a quick wave, he returns the gesture and continues scanning the room.

He turns to where the music is coming from, tables cleared from the corner creating a makeshift dancefloor. Recruits dressed as ghouls, goblins, witches, and all sorts of different costumes grind and dance together to the music, drinks in hand, and smiles on their faces. 'No better team bonding than getting absolutely shit-faced together' Soap thinks to himself with a grin across his face. He notices Price standing with a group of other captains and lieutenants, he's got a glass of whiskey in one hand and is using the other to help animate whatever story he's got everyone laughing at. Price is dressed in a tri-corn hat with a tall feather sticking out of the side and a knee-length red coat with gold adornments on the sleeves and lapels. 'Gotta be Captain Morgan' Soap smiles, shaking his head. Price notices him, giving Soap a smile and a quick nod which Soap returns.

Finally, he spots the man he was looking for, his broad back facing away from him. Soap approaches walking up to grab a drink next to Ghost. He has his balaclava rolled up to his nose, a half-eaten cupcake in one hand, and a plate of other confections in the other. "Thought you'd put a little more effort in L.T.." Soap says as twists open the bottle of beer he's picked up and turns to smile at Ghost.

Ghost is wearing his normal skull balaclava and skeletal gloves, but his 'costume' has the addition of a hoodie with the skeletal system of a torso and arms.

"Didn’t put much effort in 'cause my heart just wasn’t in it." Ghost response points to his chest where his heart would be.

Soap snorts. "Bet you've been waiting to say that all night."

"Gotta 'nother one for ya."

"Go on then."

"Why are skeletons so calm?" He pauses. "Because nothing gets under their skin."

"Ugh please no more." Soap says in a playful tone shaking his head.

"What are you supposed to be then?" Ghost asks, pointing to Soap while eating the rest of his cupcake.

"Thought it was obvious? The fluffy tail and ears, the roguishly good looks?" Soap pauses, looking at Ghost with a wolfish grin. "C'mon Ghost, I thought you were good at this?"

Ghost eyes rake over Soap’s form. Starting at his furry-eared headband, then down to his bright red collar around his neck. He pauses there for a second, Soap can see his Adam’s apple bob under his balaclava, before continuing further down to his distressed dress shirt that he’s left open at the top exposing his chest, he’s half tucked in his shirt to his jeans that he often wears on ops, the ones that hug his hips and thighs just right. And between his legs, a dark furry tail hangs ending just above his knees.

"Oh, I see you're one of those yappy little lap dogs."

"Oh aye. I'm very territorial and I never shut up. Watch your ankles L.T., I always go for those." Soap says stepping closer to Ghost. He looks down at the collar he's wearing, lifting his eyes back up, over Johnny's chin, to his smirking lips then setting on his bright blue eyes.

"Hmm" Ghost hums. "And is he a good boy too?" He said as he bites into a ghost-shaped sugar cookie.

"Depends on who's giving the orders, sir." Soap looks up through his lashes at Ghost, taking a swig of his drink.

Ghost looks around to make sure no one is paying any mind to them. When he's sure no one is, he hooks a finger under the collar pulling Soap even closer. He then leans into Soap's ear and whispers "Be a good boy then and go to the utility closet, lock the door, and don't open it until you hear three knocks of a beating heart." He doesn't wait for Johnny to respond before pulling away and walking over to Price, where Gaz has now joined him at the other end of the room.

Soap takes a deep breath, downing the rest of his drink, and grabs another one before joining the rest of 141.

When he approaches, Gaz is in the middle of telling Price about the pumpkin carving recruits and their 'interesting' techniques. But Soap's not listening, he's watching Ghost eat another cookie, licking the crumbs from the corner of his lip, laughing at something Price had said.

Soap's face gets hot, he downs a couple mouthfuls of his beer to try and cool down. "You good, Soap?" Gaz asks smiling at him.

"Aye, but this beer isn't. Has to be the weakest thing I've ever drank."

"It's probably a lot better than at piss tequila you drink." Ghost jokes.

"Think I'll go find ya some then LT. Maybe I can get you to come round to it." Soap winks at Ghost and turns to leave, only to be stopped by another captain holding a camera. "Group shot for the books, boys?" She asks. Soap looks over his shoulder at Price as he answers "Alright, come on then," waving the boys closer.

Price throws his arms over Gaz and Ghost's shoulders, Ghost rolls his balaclava back down over his jaw and Soap takes his place on the end next to him, snaking an arm around his back placing his hand on Ghost's waist.

"Say 'Happy Halloween!" The captain says as she readies to take the picture. Soap throws up the peace sign and the boys say the words the captain wanted when the camera flashes.

She comes over to show them the picture, they all look happy, even Ghost looks like he's smiling under his mask. They deserve a break like this after their last op. They move apart and Soap tells them he is going to find that drink for Ghost and excuses himself.

"Ma'am, could I get a copy of that picture?" Soap taps the captain with the camera on her shoulder on his way out. "Of course, hun! I'll make sure to give Price a few extra copies once I get them printed."

"Cheers!" Soap says raising his bottle in response "Enjoy the rest of your night."

"You too!" She says, giving a short wave to Soap.

'Oh, I will.' Soap thinks as he makes his way out of the mess hall and into the corridor leading to the utility closet Ghost wants him to wait in. He walks as fast as he can without looking suspicious, a tightness growing in his stomach and a heart wanting to break free of his ribs in excited anticipation of what's to come.

Rounding a corner, he meets a group of recruits.

"Leaving the party already Sarg?"

"Don't cha worry I'll be back, I'm only out looking for a little something stronger to drink." Soap responds with a wink as he walks backward down the hall coming to a corner. "You lads better get back there, don't want the captain to catch you out here." He turns the corner, hearing the recruits retreating footsteps as he approaches the utility closet door.

When he's standing in front of the door, he grips the handle, checking both ends of the hallway to make sure he won't be seen entering. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he opens the door and steps inside, reaching to his left to flick on the light and shutting the door behind him locking himself in.

He waits for what feels like ages. He finished the last of his drink a while ago and is now pacing around the small room.

"The things I do for this man." Soap signs. "This is ridiculous, what am I even doing in here?"

He checks his watch, 20 minutes have passed.

He's been waiting in a closet for Ghosts for twenty minutes.

"Oh, I'm so making you pay for this LT." He leans against the wall, readjusting his headband to distract him from the tightness in his pants that has been there for the last 15 minutes.

'Fuck it' he thinks, 'I'm not waiting any longer.' He reaches to palm himself through his jeans, moaning at the feeling of finally being touched. His briefs are wet with precum and creating a slick surface that his cock twitches against earning another sign from him. He reaches into his shirt to grab his nipple when a knock from the door startles him.

Knock-knock

Soap takes two long strides to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open. Ghost pushes his way in, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Jesus Simon, I thought you were going to make me wait here all night," Johnny says moving to stand chest to chest with Simon. He places one hand on Simon's waist and moves his other to take off Simon's mask.

Simon grabs his wrist and moves away. "Thought you were being a good boy? Think you need to learn some patience."

"My patience ran out 15 minutes ago." Johnny groans, freeing his wrist and ripping Simon’s mask off, throwing it somewhere on the floor behind him. His hair is an absolute mess, sticking up in all directions and a smirk is plaster across his face, he's looking down at Johnny hungerly.

Johnny smashes his lips onto Simon's in a desperate sloppy kiss, tongue and saliva pushing into Simon's mouth. A moan escapes Johnny. Simon reaches one of his hands up to the back of Johnny's head, caressing his nape first then gripping the back of his mohawk to deepen the kiss.

Johnny pulls away breathing hard when Simon's other hand touches his cock through his jeans. "Fuuuuck" he moans into Simon's neck, placing several open-mouthed kisses there and bringing his hands to wrap around Simon's broad back grabbing fist fulls of his hoodie.

Johnny ruts against Simon's hand earning a chuckle from Simon, "Desperation looks good on you, Johnny."

"Can think of a couple other things that might look even better."

Simon pulls away from Johnny, placing a hand on his chest pushing him away, "Stay." He says as looks down at him with half-lidded eyes. His gaze wanders down Johnny's face to the collar he wears on his neck, then to his chest that heaves in excitement, shirt half unbuttoned showing off his well-defined pecs that are covered in dark hair. Simon takes his hand and brushes Johnny's shirt where he knows his nipple sits underneath, drawing a shutter out of him. He smiles, looking up to Johnny's eyes that are already staring back at him. Simon looks down to see Johnny has clenched his fists that hang by his sides and sees that he's straining against his jeans, a wet spot has formed where the head of his cock has been twitching, wishing to be free from the confines of his jeans.

"You gonna me show how good you are?" He asks Johnny.

"Simon, please I-"

Simon walks Johnny backward until his back meets the shelf full of cleaning supplies behind them, shaking when they collide with it. Simon goes to plant a kiss on Johnny's mouth when Johnny tries to meet him halfway, "Ah-ah, I said stay" he scolds as he grabs Johnny's jaw with a firm grip. He places a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth, then on the scar on his chin, and then one more on the pulse on his neck, he can feel it racing under his lips.

He suddenly pulls away and crouches down to settle on his knees in front of Johnny. Simon reaches for Johnny's belt unbuckling it, he unbuttons his jeans pulling them and his boxer briefs halfway down his thighs in one fluid motion, letting Johnny's cock spring free in front of his face.

A string of precum hangs from the half-covered head of his cock, creating a string that connects to the inside of his briefs. It twitches and another pearl forms under Simon's gaze. The pearl drops to the floor when Simon's gloved hand connects with his shaft, slowly moving his foreskin back to reveal his glistening, swollen head.

"Ahh, fuck" Johnny sighs, throwing his head back to smack against the self with a bang, knocking over a couple of the bottles.

"Careful, Johnny. Need to stay quiet, don't want anyone finding us do ya?" Simon teases as he starts lazily stroking his cock. He gets a hiss from Johnny, as he slides his gloved hand down his shaft to the base, creating a rough sensation for Johnny.

Simon's hand slides back up to his leaking head, thumb going to Johnny's frenulum drawing agonizingly slow circles on it. Simon looks up at Johnny to see his face contorted in pleasure with the overstimulation he's causing and that his headband has been knocked out of place. He brings his other hand to grip Johnny's balls, pulling them down gently. Johnny's chest heaves in when he releases a heavy breath, his hand shooting out to grip the edge of the shelf he's leaning on, his other hand hovering over Simon's head, hesitating to grip his hair. He looks down to Simon for permission, to which Simon responds by releasing his hand from Johnny's cock and catching it on his tongue.

"Yer gonna kill me." He breathes, getting a open-mouthed grin out of Simon. He wraps his lips around him before sucking on his head, flicking his tongue on the underside.

"Simon." Johnny warns.

Simon sinks his whole cock into his mouth, nose pushing into Johnny's pubic bone, a burning feeling in the back of his throat. He sticks his tongue out to caress his balls while he starts messaging them with his hand. Drool drops into his palm helping ease the rough feeling of his glove for Johnny. He slides Johnny's cock out of his mouth to take a deep breath.

"Think yer enjoying this more than me." Johnny chuckles at Simon looking down at the saliva dripping from his wet lips. Simon only looks up at him in response before pulling his cock back into his mouth, sucking and bobbing up and down his cock with a relentless pace this time. He never breaks eye contact with Johnny as he starts playing with his balls and moving his forefinger to brush against his taint. This makes Johnny buck forward deep into Simon's mouth and grip his own pec, wanting to place pressure on his nipple. Simon pulls Johnny's hand away, ripping his shirt open making a couple of the buttons fly free. He finds Johnny's nipple and pinches. Hard.

"I'm- I’m gunna-!" Johnny pants out. Bucking forward once again, pushing his cock farther down Simon’s throat, making his eyes water.

Simon can feel him twitching and pulsing inside his throat. He pulls his head away quickly just as Johnny starts to come, he tastes it briefly on his tongue before releasing his cock with a pop and feels Johnny's cum land on his face. One release squirts up his cheek stopping on his cheekbone and another across the bridge of his nose just missing his eye. More oozes out as Johnny grips the sides of Simon’s head to rut through his orgasm, rubbing and grinding his cock against Simon's face, his balls slapping against his jaw with a wet sticky sound. Simon closes one of his eyes as Johnny’s cock gets dangerously close to it, even more cum is leaking out of the tip as Johnny overstimulates himself. When he stops, he's breathing hard and hunching over, shaking from his orgasm, his cock jumps against the bridge of Simon’s nose. The cum pooled there drips down his face and over his chin, dripping onto his neck and disappearing under his shirt.

"Good boy." Simon says as he pats Johnny's thigh.

"Lemme be even better than,” he says, as he unsteadily crouches down in front of Simon, “and help clean you up." He sticks his tongue out, licking the cum off Simon’s neck, trailing up to his chin, then up and over his cheek. After he's collected it all in his mouth he kisses Simon, holding eye contact when he pushes it into his mouth with his tongue, smiling when he accepts it. Johnny pulls away, looking very impressed with himself, a string of saliva connects them and Simon swallows what he’s given him. Wiping his mouth with the back of this hand, Simon stands them both up, pulling Johnny's pants up, tucking him back in his briefs, and making his best attempt to fix his shirt.

Johnny places an arm around Simon's neck pulling him into a sweet tender kiss. "Let's get you sorted then." He smiles into Simon's lips, he reaches underneath his hoodie to brush along Simon’s abdomen, running his fingers through his happy trail, flattening his hand to slide into the top of his cargo pants.

Simon pulls away slightly, reaching up to fix Johnny’s fluffy-eared headband. "You know I don't need that."

"I know" he pauses "but I want too," Johnny whispers into his cheek. "I'll come to your room later. This time you'll have to wait for me." He smirks looking up at him.

"I'll be waiting." Simon kisses Johnny one last time, then steps out of his reach, picking up his discarded mask from the floor and slipping it over his head back into place. He grabs Soap's long-forgotten empty bottle and says, "Wait five minutes before leaving, yeah?"

"I know, Ghost. This isn't my first time." He smiles.

"And remember that piss tequila you were supposed to be findin'."

"You won't be callin' it that by the end of the night."

"Mmm, I doubt that." Ghost opens the door quietly to listen for anyone outside, when he hears nothing, he looks back at Soap over his shoulder and nods a 'see you' then steps out closing the door behind him.

Soap takes in a deep breath. 'Think I gotta start wearing a collar more often.' He thinks. 'Maybe I should start wearing the throat mic again?'

#ghost has a sweet tooth and i wont hear otherwise #price and gaz are here but they play a small part so imma not tag em #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod #bell writes

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biggaybunny · 1 year

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The universe is weird and doesn’t make sense. You get yourself a crapload (technical term) of energy and some dimensions (exact number debatable) and just leave them there. You come back and your energy has gotten a bit clumpy, it’s all quarks and electrons now I guess. Sure. You leave it a little longer and the clumps get clumpy and now you got protons, and some neutrons, and electrons. You see the pattern. The clumpy clumps get clumpy and now you have hydrogen and helium, and you’re like, oh cool. That’s probably as clumpy as its gonna get, right? So you leave it and for the longest time (at least one of the dimensions you had lying around) you’re right. And then what does it do? It forms GIANT clumps MILLIONS OF ORDERS OF MAGNITUDE LARGER THAN THE PREVIOUS CLUMPS. Like, OKAY. SURE. NO MIDDLE STEP THERE. Just, fuck you, your universe has stars n-- oh what the fuck is happening in there. Nuclear fusion? What the fuck is that! Where did that come from!

But whatever! The result looks mostly the same. Sure there are fucking photons now, whatever is up with THOSE things, and all sorts of other asinine particles you don’t remember seeing before, but you’re still basically dealing with the same clumpy clump-clumps you used to, just in more varieties. You get like, lithium, and carbon, and oxygen, but what’s the big deal. Oh, the big deal is now SOME OF THEM ARE MAKING CLUMPS. There’s that middle step that MAYBE SHOULDA SHOWN UP BEFORE HUH? So now you got MOLECULES. And you have STATES OF MATTER. You had those before you guess but you didn’t really have any need to distinguish them but for fuck’s sake now you got ROCKS and boy are those bitches CLUMPY. I mean the way they ORBIT STARS is kinda nice. Pretty, right? And like, this is clearly gonna be the new status quo. It’s not like these weird rocks are gonna produce anything weirder, right? Right??

Well guess the fuck what!! SOME ASSHOLE PUT WATER ON A ROCK. FUCK, RIGHT? And there’s like a crapton (technical term, different than crapload) of carbon down there (what the fuck!!) and carbon is like the most clump-loving bitch you’ve ever fucking seen and it makes all sorts of crazy fucked up molecules down there in the water. THAT’S RIGHT BITCHES ITS TIME FOR ORGANIC CHEMISTRY. So guess what! Some of those molecules down there are fucking UNIONIZING on you. And now they’re REPLICATING THEMSELVES. Think about that. That’s not in the fucking instruction manual. That’s not supposed to happen. Quarks didn’t do that. Particles didn’t have the fucking audacity to do that. Not even stars did that shit (not exactly, there’s this thing, with novas and nebulae-- its a whole thing just trust me). Oh, and APPARENTLY some of these things are INCREASING IN COMPLEXITY which is just a whole load of bullshit (technical term again, sorry). Like, what!!! That!! Is!!! Illegal!!!! You can’t just do that!!! Sure there was sort of a progression of states up until this point but it was more just a shuffling around of things, okay technically they’re not violating the rules but you definitely think you need a referee in here because this clearly wasn’t intended.

And before you even fucking know it some of the clumps of molecules (so, clumps of clumps of clumps of clumps of clumpy energy) are fucking OBSERVING this whole state of affairs i.e. the universe and THEMSELVES, a bunch of particles that KNOWS its a bunch of particles and part of the universe and how the fuck are you supposed to handle that situation you literally just started with energy and dimensions man, energy and dimensions, where in that equation was there room for poetry and canned goods and laughter and generational wisdom and buttons???

You realize you ought to put some pants on.

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isure-hopeso · 4 months

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12.31.2023

48 books this year. My hunger never ends. I am insatiable. Here's my reviews:

Five Classics by Agatha Christie 8/10 Started the year off strong with a handful of Christie's shorter classic mysteries

The Fortune Teller by Gwendolyn Womack 4.5/10 Super super cool story idea with very poor flow and had a cheating trope

Mountain Mama by Axsom & Pelham 6.5/10 A depressingly realistic look at life on the frontier for a single mom

A Well-Behaved Woman by Therese Anne Fowler 8/10 Alva Vanderbilt was so incredible

Followers by Megan Angelo 6.5/10 One of those books where you really don't care the first 2/3 and then you can't get over it for the last 1/3

The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien 10/10 my annual reading of one of the Big Four, as always

"Kitchen Princess" Omnibus 2 by Ando & Kobayashi 9/10 I'm pretty sure I learned my love languages from the Kitchen Princess series as a kid

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas 5.5/10 A little tropey and the riddle was stupid easy, but I love me a Beauty & The Beast retelling

Homeland: The Legend of Drizzt #1 by R.A. Salvatore 5.5/10 It really didn't need to be that long, but Salvy loves his extra DnD context

The Black Poets by Dudley Randal 10/10 When I tell you how often I think about the poetry from this book. When I tell you.

Mansfield Park by Jane Austen 6.5/10 Witty and wild for it's time, like all Austen novels, but she's boring and falls in love with her cousin

A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas 7.5/10 Turning the Beauty and the Beast retelling on its HEAD and using tidbits from the previous novel to change everything - but also very very smutty

Tithe by Holly Black 7/10 Rereading an old book I love in high school and finding that I still like it quite a lot

The Big Four by Agatha Christie 8/10 One of her biggie Poirot heists, super thrilling

"Kitchen Princess" Vol. 6 by Ando and Kobayashi 9/10 I have dreams, actual dreams, about these stories for weeks after reading them. Good dreams.

The School for Good and Evil by Soman Chianani 7/10 Decided to read this after watching the movie -- it might not be incredible storytelling but it's a fun story-world, so I decided to read it all

A World Without Princes by Soman Chianani 4/10 S for G&E 2 -It had some good bits, but was overall way too clumpy

The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien 10/10 This was actually my first time reading it, and I LOVE getting all the universe context!!

To Weave a Web of Magic by Delacroix, Kurlana, McKillip, and Shinn 8/10 This series of short stories had some real bangers and some ehh

On The Incarnation by St. Athanasius 7/10 the deconstruction never stops, love that for us

Unfinished Tales by J.R.R. Tolkien 8.5/10 It was so cool reading some of his last unfinished works, it was really not cool reading a bunch of stories with no ending

The Viscount Who Loved Me by Julia Quinn 5.5/10 Where the first Bridgerton book was much better than it's season, the second book was exactly as whatever as the second season.

"The Tempest" by William Shakespeare 7.5/10 really very odd, but the overall vibe was so good and exactly what I needed after Quinn

The Last Ever After by Soman Chianani 6.5/10 S for G&E #3 Thus begins my attempt to finish the whole series because I bought them and they were sitting there

"Sophist", "Statesmen", "Parmenides" and "Philebus" by Plato 10/10 What's the difference between is and is not? Is 'is not' a state of being? lol I dunno

Quest for Glory by Soman Chianani 7/10 S for G&E #4 Okay finally these stories are getting interesting again

A Crystal of Time by Soman Chianani 6.5/10 Really pulling out some wackadoodle things for this one, but I wasn't against it too much

One True King by Soman Chianani 6/10 An alright wrap-up, but my boi Hort deserved a more thorough ending

In the Flo by Alisa Vitti 6.5/10 I learned more about my period in this book than in any health class, but it also got a little woowoo with moon phases

The Green Witch by Murphy & Hiscock 7/10 I had a late-night book buying stint where I bought like 7 witchy books and this was the first to arrive

Acting on Impulse by Mia Sosa 2/10 I have nothing particular against this author, but this was the book that convinced me that I could get a book published

A Court of Wings and Ruin by Sarah J. Maas 7.5/10 Hoo boy does a lot of stuff go down in this spicy, spicy book.

A Court of Frost and Starlight by Sarah J. Maas 6/10 Just a fun little story about wildly traumatized characters

Save the Cat! Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody 9.5/10 One of the coolest things I've read, I learned so much about reading and writing

Walden and Others Writings by Henry David Thoreau 10/10 So much beautiful writing, this is going to be a regular reread for me

A History of Magic, Witchcraft, and the Occult by DK 8.5/10 Naturally one of my favorite books of the year was a literal textbook

A Court of Silver Flames by Sarah J. Maas 8/10 Apparently I didn't hate this book as much as I was supposed to, but also please mind your manners in shared eating spaces

American Brujeria by J. Allen Cross 6.5/10 It turns out Hispanic witches are super super Catholics, which I bet would make some non-Hispanic Catholics real angy

Magic Lessons by Alice Hoffman 7/10 Practical Magic #1 it was such a lovely writing style, like an actual witch telling a prophecy

House of Earth and Blood by Sarah J. Maas 8.5/10 A really cool story, standing ovation for Lehabah every day, but also weird that the big bad killer guy wears hats and watches basketball

Nevewhere by Neil Gaiman 9/10 Hadn't thought much of it while I was reading it, but this story had stuck with me like a bad cold baby

Bones of Faerie by Janni Lee Simmer 5.5/10 This one had been sitting in my TBR for too long, and it wasn't too bad

Well of Darkness by Weis & Hickman 8.5/10 Getting to read a fantasy story in the perspective of the bad guys? Heck yeah. So cool.

After the Funeral by Agatha Christie 6.5/10 This one had alllllllll the rich family drams

Ironside by Holly Black 8/10 my first time reading this finale of Black's trilogy, and I just feel like the main character could have been more logical or taken more action

A Writer's Notebook by Ralph Fletcher 2/10 I pretty much learned nothing, got nothing out of this

Search the Sky by Pohl & Kornbluth 8/10 Only took off points for misogyny, but it was from the 50s, otherwise a really cool story

The House Witch by Murphy & Hiscock 5/10 A follow-up from the first witchy book to arrive, this one didn't teach me as much about witches as I hoped it would

Approximately a 7/10 average for the whole year! I went out on a limb for a lot of books this year, and that was rewarding just about as often as it was disappointing, but I can at least say that I haven't DNF'd a book yet. I largely write these for myself, and I don't expect anyone to take the time to read it -- if you did, then you are a saint and a hero. May your pillows be cool, your blankets warm, and your eyesight always clear enough for reading.

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uzumakisavior · 4 months

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Continuation of x @cursesavior

"Whatever you do, don't scratch."

Shoko hovers both hands over his upper spine. A circular white glow engulfs her palms and the deep flesh wound beneath them. Low wet popping sounds eminate from the injury. As it heals, uncomfortable itching crawls within, as typical for RCT.

As she heals him, Shoko frowns. Eyes harden at the sight of her beaten, bloodied friend.

"You ask me not to worry, and yet you've been reckless." She answers, her voice seeping with concern despite its assertive tone. Shoko can feel herself losing her composure. The tenderness she usually imbues is slipping away. Haibara's death had taken hold of her too, and the grief was influencing her character.

"Your injuries get worse every mission. You're a special grade sorcerer. That shouldn't be happening. You give me the same answer every trip and expect me not to worry?"

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in an attempt to collect herself. A deep inhale enters her nose, then a mindful focus on the air that fills her lungs, and lastly, the slow exhale leaves her nose. The tension melts away, and her voice molds into a soothing manner of speech.

"Geto, when you speak, you sound soulless. The bag under your eyes have bags of your own. They look darker now that you're losing color on your skin. Cheeks are sunken. And I know you're not eating, Geto. You look like the undead." The wound heals halfway. Brown eyes soften at his oily clumpy locks and slumpy body language. Geto looked like exhaustion personified. "You can't lie to a doctor-to-be. We're trained to be observant. Talk to me, Geto. -Oh, and by the way, you make for a terrible liar. Dont even try."

#cursesavior #shoko #thanks so much for the ask #I was hella nervous

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aeide-thea · 9 months

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watched witcher 3x03 and it really is just like. this show continues to lurch wildly from scene to unconnected scene. which could work if they were written and costumed and acted well enough that each vignette was compelling in its own right, so that you wanted to keep watching even though nothing quite hangs together or makes sense yet? but they really. aren't.

and they keep introducing all these bit characters, i guess in an attempt to convey that geralt has History and Connections, but it's just feeling to me like, why are we foregrounding all these interactions that should have been background. did i really need to learn all these names.

also i continue to feel like ciri is just. too old. like fundamentally you can't take the naïveté and petulance of a child, or teenager at most, and paste them unaltered onto a twenty-something and expect to garner the same level of sympathy for her! also like. minor point but if they're on the run would she really be religiously applying her clumpy little maybelline every morning. she looks more overtly made up than most of the adult characters on the show, and like, i know we're in fantasyland and not any actual specific historical time period but it does feel distractingly anachronistic to me nonetheless.

also like. you're really asking me to believe that surly taciturn traumatized geralt would open up to this random 'friend of his mother's' about his childhood. like. i get that, again, we're attempting to establish that Geralt Has History, but like. you can't just have him infodump without any consideration of what he's like or who he's talking to??? like—i understand that we basically gave up on any notion of consistent characterization for him, or even a clear throughline to an evolving characterization, after s1, but. why is he opening up to this random druidess as if she were yennefer. what is happening.

like do i want to see jaskier's big gay romance (which based on radovid's beleaguered-weasel characterization so far i cannot imagine doing anything but going up in flames in the back half of the season??? like, clearly radovid is going to fuck them over the second he's caught in a political bind, the only question imo is whether jaskier also fucks them over)? yes. but is the rest of this worth sitting through? extremely debatable.

did love vespula's dress, ditto jaskier's costuming. also yennefer's struggle to balance who she knows how to be in an aretuzan context vs who she wants to be for ciri (and for herself?) was compelling (although, again, i'm really struggling to buy the idea of her as mother to ciri when the two actresses have, like, a seven-year age difference. like i get that it's found family and not literal but. it just doesn't ring true, i'm sorry). but on the whole this really was just. a jumble.

also emhyr is just not icily intimidating enough. like he's supposed to be this always-five-steps-ahead omnipotent manipulator or whatever, as i understand it, but even setting other versions of canon aside, this version of the story needs him to be that! and instead he's like. a potatoface in a molded plastic breastplate. action figure villain.

also okay this really is the last thing but. what is up with all this 'the evil mages all have their faces grotesquely burnt off' shit. can we not do better by real live people with facial differences than that.

#critical #tvblogging #and i guess file it under #kakos kaischros babey!!#for that last item.

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monkeyparasite · 2 years

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i think i think the dear boy willys willam has a bad case of the 'tism's expect he isn't diagnosed and if he was it would absolutely ruin his stupid lil heart because he has forever built up hatred of what he is, like a homosexual, so he will just pretend he is oh-so straight and allistic even though his "homie nights" with his blonde boy consist of him not shutting the fuck up about the confederacy and civil war, all while he shares a milkshake with two straws in them for him and his blonde human clumpy cottage cheese of a boyfriend's green dotted eyes literally fuck-about going in two different directions, but not to worry, because ol' willy silly is too into telling him about whatever his stupid wet brain is hyperfixated on and that Dick also has his own straw in his (or their?) milkshake

its only when the food finally get delivered that he notices that there are TWO STRAWS instead of JUST ONE!! in the milkshake, and both are pointing at the other person, which he then offendedly asked his stupid eyed boyfriend why he put one in there for himself huffing that he wasn't gay and didn't want it anymore, only for the blondie to correct him by saying he was the one that put the straw in that was facing towards him while he was caught up infodumping or should i say.. explaining where the confederate flag was first made and who made it before then putting his own pointing towards himself

but he just gets more upset and tells dick to fuck off and shut the fuck up. anyways after a long awkward silence he goes back to rambling about whatever the fuck <33

#this was supposed to be a simple headcanon post #why did this turn into a imagine #o well #anyways uhm #metalocalypse headcanon #metalocalypse #im sorry #im actually scared of most people in this fandom #off topic sorry #dethklok #william murderface #dick knubbler #dickface #murderdick #knubface

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dxsertrot · 3 months

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Tfw you open up about some of the strange functions of how your brain operates and you wish you could retract it back into your mouth because you're met with a wide eyed stare and a hesitant smile. Sometimes I forget that there's a lot I don't say and it just randomly spills from me and I'm reminded why I withhold so much about me. I like to believe that most people, if not everyone, has such thick and deep layers that can be peeled back, but that they simply don't. For whatever reason it's my nature to endlessly shed layers until I'm met with the skeletal frame of my own cognition and it's like staring into a void. And sometimes you see shapes and patterns in that void that elicit a feeling that you might be able to discover something you can understand in it all, only to realize it's just a trick of the eyes, and those shapes and patterns contort and shift and blip in and out. I have been everybody, I am everybody, only I'm not. But sometimes I see it and feel it so vividly it's almost real. It's like I grasped reality so firmly that it gushed between my fingertips into a clumpy mush. I want to feel everything and see everything and understand everyone and feel what they feel and think what they think and see what they see. And I want them to do the same for me. I feel a constant confliction. It's like I'm everybody I know and yet I am still aggressively me. And what is me feels more muddy and senseless than what is simply enveloped by me. What have I forged and what was forged by circumstance beyond me? Is one outcome more genuine than the other? I'm not who I was, but simultaneously that's impossible. Because who you were was you, and you've never been anything else but you. I never once felt I was crazy until tonight. Sometimes I sit with this dreadful sensation that I will never be able to unveil everything and anything about me. That nobody could ever strip me down and wear me. I want those I love to understand with a deafening clarity who I am and witness the murkiness and attempt to navigate it with care rather than skepticism. And I want so badly to do the same with them, with everyone. But the me I am when I am interacting and perceived is so separate from who I am in the solitude of my own mind. And yet they are undoubtedly linked, a seemless flow that seeks no sense, yet seeks a desire to understand. I am me but I am also the observer. I am a witness. But somebody is witnessing me as well, and I forget that. And my mind simply concludes that these aspects must be separate from one another. Not sure if it's spiritual, or if its the result of the overexercion caused by a mind trying to understand itself. But its present, and it seeps into everything. And yet nobody can know. And they couldn't if they wanted to.

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aspoonfulofmoss · 3 months

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cw self harm implied

26 january 2024

i am very diseased

my disease does not spread through air or fluid but finds its stake in the big black pit of a gentle gaze, in the flashing of the gums in a genuine smile, in the folds in the corners of the eyes as the muscles of the mouth stretch and touch those in the eye corners. i do really want to be loved in this way, with a smile and the threading of fingers through my tender scalp and my clumpy mass of hair. i really do want to be tended to like a baby. i really do want to be held like a child. but this is how the disease spreads, and there must be some reason that nobody has decided i am worth such a risk.

i lay on my bed, i cry a little, i lay and turn like i can write the disease out of my body. but the spore has grown roots in my skin (mold is not supposed to do this) and it will be with me forever. i am the favorite gestating place of this kind of spore. for i am warm and dark and hollow and have much in the way of yielding pathetically to whatever comes to harm me.

'stay in bed. don't write. don't drink. don't eat. don't sleep. stay in bed awhile. lay wasting and dying and pile up clean clothes at the foot of your mussed up sheets and don't put them away and just stay in bed awhile.' it says to me.

'why?' i always think. 'okay.' i always reply.

disease likes me because i do not fight it. i am still and very quiet and only whine and cry a little bit and i am so good and quiet for the disease, i promise, i really am. it is the only thing that wants to touch me and keep me company.

every day i wake up in my bed with an ache. every day i wake up and the skin of my thighs clings to my nightpants where blood has dried. i go about class and worksheets and my job at the theater and lunch alone by the lockers with my disease, and my ache, and my pants sticking to my legs, and a pile of clothes on my bed back home, and the rest of the world passes by unseeingly, torturously, passing by my diseased wretched form like stupid cattle passing by dead leaves as they graze the plains.

i think a lot about ivan ilyich with his floating kidney and bazarov with the splotches of blood poisoning on his stomach. i wonder if i will know when the disease begins to kill me.

#prose #cw self-harm #january 2024

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ledgrowlight-aquarium · 1 year

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How to Remove Temporary Tattoos

Temporary tattoos are great for kids, a costume party, or for a night where you just feel like looking hardcore without the commitment of a real tattoo but they can be stubborn to get off. Whatever your reason for putting a temporary tattoo on, at some point it will start to peel and you’ll want to remove it. Follow these different methods to rub, peel, and soak your tattoo away.

Method 1 Scrubbing

Apply a small amount of baby oil to the temporary tattoo. Keep in mind that most temporary tattoos are able to stand up to water and soap, so oil is generally the best way to go if you want to scrub a temporary tattoo off. You could also try to use a face or body scrub. The beads from the scrub should help remove the tattoo from your skin. Alternatively, you can use special temporary tattoo remover wipes like Limisan. Those wipes contain silicons which ensure easy removal of the temporary tattoo. Alternatively, you can pour a small amount of rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball or piece of paper towel. Be aware that rubbing alcohol may burn a bit. If you do not have baby oil, you can use olive oil on your tattoo as well.

Let the baby oil sit on the tattoo for a minute. Doing this will allow the baby oil to soak into the tattoo (and your skin) making it easier to rub the temporary tattoo away.

Get a washcloth and rub the tattoo vigorously. The tattoo should begin to become clumpy and start to peel off and rub away. Keep rubbing until all of the temporary tattoo has been removed. You can use a paper towel in place of a washcloth.

Wash the remaining oil off with warm water and soap. Wash your skin until there is no oil left. Pat the area dry with a towel.

Method 2 Peeling

Rip several pieces of tape off of its roll. Clear tape, such as Scotch tape, works better than masking or painter’s tape. Hang the tape pieces by one end off of the side of a table or counter (wherever you will be working).

Press a piece of tape down onto the temporary tattoo. Make sure that you press it down firmly so that it attaches to the surface of the temporary tattoo. Use a finger to rub the tape down along your skin.

Peel the tape off of your skin. The temporary tattoo should peel off with the tape. This process might take several tries, particularly if it is a large temporary tattoo.

Rub an ice cube on the spot where the temporary tattoo was. Do this after all of the temporary tattoo has been removed. Doing this will reduce the redness caused by peeling the tape from your skin.

Method 3 Cold Cream

Apply cold cream to the temporary tattoo. Make sure that the tattoo is fully covered by the cream.

Let the cold cream sink into the skin. You should leave the cream on for an hour or so to make sure that it thoroughly works its magic on the temporary tattoo.

Rub the cold cream away with a washcloth. Use warm water and soap to remove any remaining cold cream.

Method 4 Nail Polish Remover

Wet a cotton ball with nail polish remover. If you do not have nail polish remover, you can also use rubbing alcohol.

Rub the temporary tattoo with the cotton ball. Scrub at the tattoo so that it begins to flake off of your skin. You may need to wet the cotton ball again or get a new cotton ball, depending on how large your temporary tattoo is.

Wash your skin with warm water and soap. Use a washcloth to rinse your skin where your temporary tattoo was. Use warm water and soap to remove any of the acetone left behind by the nail polish remover.

Method 5 Make Up Remover

Soak make up remover into a cotton ball.

Rub over the temporary tattoo. Rub gently.

Wash off with soap and warm water.

Allow to air dry or dab with a soft towel.

Repeat if needed.

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vaultofqueenorion · 1 year

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Prompt: Arena

Blood dripped from her chin, her teeth a crimson crescent when she smiled. The beast took a step closer, readying for another strike. It’s hulking form loomed over her.

Around her, the noise of battle was too loud in her ears, her allies fighting constructs not unlike the one she faced while the crowd cheered. The Fae and Faeries and other creatures on the benches looking down the arena had no idea of the danger - of the ritual that these beasts of curved branches and ancient stone would fulfill if left unchecked.

The bloodshed that would ensue.

She grit her teeth as the clumpy stone hand was brought down upon her like a mallet, the shield and sword she had been given lay discarded, crumbled and broken in the crater the last strike had left.

She waited until it was almost upon her, counting down seconds before she leapt, her clawed hands leaving marks in the beast’s own hand as she used it to leap into the air.

So far, nothing had been able to hurt it, her claws and weapons bouncing off its hard hide harmlessly.

She landed harder than she meant to, her knees buckling beneath her as the impact sent pain shooting up her body. Her hands hit the dirt, tiny stones prickling her palms as her eyes watered with pain.

She scrambled back, her feet dragging behind her before she righted herself and got to her feet again, grimacing at the jolts that shot through her knees at the movement.

The beast's hollow sockets seemed to glow, and it shifted with unnatural speed for a creature of its size.

Her heart beat in her throat, her breaths coming hard as she ran to the edge of the arena, past ally after ally as she gestured for them to follow, their own foes setting in pursuit as they did.

They stood near the edge of the massive arena, their backs almost pressed against the wall. They were all caked in dirt and sweat, blood seeping from their wounds.

One by one, she saw them fall to their knees around her as whatever poison the creatures had left in theri systems took effect. She felt it burning in her own veins, and she grit her teeth against it. Her vision swam, the beasts lumbering after her seemingly grinning in the sharp light of the arena.

She would be the last one left standing.

It was the curse of her bloodline. Scorned daughter of the Queen of Fae with magic thrumming through her veins.

Horror overcame her. That had been the plan all along. She was meant to watch her friends, her only real family, perish one by one while she struggled to fight against the poison.

The only problem was that she had never been good at doing what was expected of her.

She looked to her best friend standing at her side, his hair caked with blood and mud from a gash in his head.

“Pull up the shield when I tell you to,” she said, and something cracked within her heart at the broken look he gave her.

“It will do nothing against their attacks,” he said through gritted teeth. “There’s nothing magic about them.”

“Trust me,” she replied as she turned her back to him and took a step forward. Then another.

Until she was running towards the beasts, glaring down the maw of death with defiance in her eyes. If this didn’t work - if she failed this time, it would be the end of them all.

“Now,” she yelled as she pulled to a stop mere meters from the beast closest to them. It lifted its massive hand, bringing it down for the killing blow.

Because she would be too weak to move out of the way. Because the poison in her veins was already working on paralyzing her.

She closed her eyes.

Felt the surge of magic as the shield covered her friends, a shimmering barrier of pure light.

Then she dove deep into herself, down, down, down until she reached that reeking core.

She released the flood.

#tw violence #tw blood #gladiator #arena #magic #rot #this is actually part of a WIP #snippet #Prophecy of Stars #The Blood Ball #fighting #action #writblr #amwriting #write #writing #writerscommunity #fantasy #fae

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bananamuslim · 2 years

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Homemade cheese sauce recipe

#Homemade cheese sauce recipe how to

#Homemade cheese sauce recipe mac

I know there are loads of cheese dip recipes “out there”. Place this with a pile of corn chips in front of me and I stand no chance. Therefore, this Nachos Cheese Dip is pretty much all my weaknesses bundled into one bowl. If there’s something to nibble on within reach, it’s like my arm is on auto pilot. Plus I have a weakness for all things snacky. Because I love cheesy dips, and I wanted one that did not harden or congeal as it cooled.” “This Nachos Cheese Dip was an invention out of necessity. It takes just over 5 minutes to make and is great to make ahead as it reheats well. When warm, it can be used as a cheese sauce to pour over nachos, chips or whatever else takes your fancy. And for those of you having trouble, keep trying! You will be glad.A silky smooth Nachos cheese dip that doesn’t harden or congeal as it cools!! It is just as good served warm, at room temperature or cold. my sauce tastes best when I make it in my old pot.

#Homemade cheese sauce recipe how to

I am happy to report that all of children know how to make this! It is our ‘go-to’ when our going needs to go! I love your website! Oh, I almost forgot …. I also use white pepper so kids can’t see it! haha. After I cook the pasta I add butter & parsley & parmesian while it sits there waiting for its cheese sauce! If I know I have really picky eaters I leave out the parsley. Once it is mixed with pasta then I add little cubes of sharp cheddar and then bake the whole thing or put it in the crock pot to ‘meld’. Slowly pour the milk as you wisk, wisk, wisk! A good wisk is worth it! I also use Cheese Whiz or Velveeta to make my sauce really smooth. I whip an egg into the milk to add protein. Using warm milk works so well! It also works to use warm water to mix up dry milk if that is what you have. And wisk, wisk, wisk! I like to add the mustard right after I merge the butter & flour so the mustard browns a little. Always start with a lesser amount of flour, especially if you are adding it to pasta. Flour is always different so sometimes you will get grainy and cheaper ‘imitation’ cheese will also be a problem. The internet is so useful at times! Your website is so great! I have been making this cheese sauce for 35 years. Ohhhh, I am so happy the younger generation has this recipe in such nice detail. Taste as you go and season accordingly.Just reheat it in a saucepan to get it all nice and liquidy again. This cheese sauce recipe will keep in the fridge for a while–although it will turn rather gelatinous.Other varieties will be delicious as well–although I usually steer clear of mozzarella, since it has the tendency to get all stringy and clumpy when it melts. I prefer sharp cheddar, or a mixture of cheddar and parmesan. You can really use any type of cheese here.Eat it out of a bowl with a spoon *cough* I did not just type that….Mix in some chili peppers or salsa for an awesomely spicy twist.Use it as a dip for veggies, or crackers, or ?.

#Homemade cheese sauce recipe mac

Mix it with cooked pasta for quick homemade mac n’ cheese.Use it to garnish veggies (roasted broccoli comes to mind).Drizzle over tortilla chips for the ultimate nacho experience.Season to taste with paprika, mustard, and more salt, if desired. Add in the grated cheese, and melt & stir over low heat until everything is incorporated. Continue to whisk and cook over low to medium heat, until the mixture is slightly thickened and smooth.ħ. Season with a pinch of nutmeg and a sprinkle of salt/pepper.Ħ. Reduce the heat to low, and whisk in the milk.ĥ. Let it cook for 1-2 minutes, or until the flour is slightly browned.Ĥ. Melt the butter in a saucepan, then stir in the flour.ģ. That’s just a fancy name for mixture of fat and flour that’s traditionally used to thicken sauces and stews.Ģ. Salt and pepper, to taste (I use and love this salt.)ġ.(And hey–I used to buy both of those things–so I’m not judging!)īut didja know you can make this cheese sauce recipe at home? From scratch? And no weird ingredients required? Oh yeah baby… Homemade Cheese Sauce Recipe The average American makes cheese sauce by (a) buying a jar of Cheese Whiz® or (b) melting down a ginormous brick of the no-refrigeration-required-and-will-last-until-Armageddon Velveeta®. And I understand that.īut if you are one of those folks–you may want to look away…īecause today I’m talkin’ about the most glorious cheese sauce recipe you ever did see… not only does it have cheese in it, but it has milk and butter too. I know there are a lot of folks these days who strive for a dairy-free & grain-free diet.

#Homemade cheese sauce recipe

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rafescoke · 3 years

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Never sent a request idk if I do this right. Been to lazy and not good lately and honestly I just need a good fluff. The basic plot where he is in a bad mood like angry and then he turns to his lover etc etc. Do your thing I just need some comfort and love!

Cupcake ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Maybe making cupcakes with a girl he likes won’t be a bad thing

Warnings: Slight angst on the earlier part, cursing, substance, extreme fluff, adorable Rafe Cameron

A/N: I hope you're doing good, sending all my love and hugs @ you <33 remember to rest!!! @asimpwriter

p.s; you know the drill - send any requests!

"Fuck off," Rafe sighed, shutting his eyes against the bright chandelier above the dinner table. Since when did it got so bright? The last time he checked, it was dimmed. "I swear Sarah, say one more word and I'll fucking kill you."

"Rafe," Ward sighed, placing his cutleries down onto the expensive wooden table. "It's family time. Excuse your sister."

"She's hanging around with those stupid pogues, dad!" he groaned, not wanting to believe that his dad was on her side. Not that he was ever on his, but he thought his father would have the same mindset as him towards this topic.

"Let. It. Go."

"They're my friends," she breathed, and Ward closed his eyes again, knowing the screaming that was about to occur. "I'm sorry you're stuck with Topper-"

"Didn't you cheat on him?" he laughed, and turned to look at his dad. He mouthed at him with an amused expression, "She cheated on him."

"I didn't, and we broke up 2 weeks ago. I'm sorry he couldn't move on from me," Sarah shrugged, and Rafe watched as she put aside her green beans and offered some of the mashed potatoes to Wheezie.

How could she act so normal about this?

"Oh, and-" Sarah turned to Ward, and Rafe waited impatiently for the lies that was about to slip from her mouth. "Do you know that he does drugs?"

"Sarah!" Rose yelled, furrowing her eyebrows as Rafe laughed out loud, clapping his hands loudly that the sound echoed throughout the huge house. "It's a family dinner!"

"I don't give a fuck about this family," Sarah said, removing the napkin from her lap and quickly standing up to get out of the house. Ward didn't say anything, neither did Rose, and after a few seconds, he let out a sigh.

"This is getting out of hand," he started, clasping his hands. "Rafe, I'm no longer letting you take over my business."

Rafe stopped his movements, looking at his father with widened eyes. After all those time he spent at college, trying to make his father proud and to take over the business, only for this?

"Dad, you can't. She's lying, dad, I haven't been using drugs."

"I saw the stash, Rafe," he sighed, and Rafe thought about the space under his bed. He closed his eyes, muttering a ‘fuck’ when he finally remembered the empty space. He didn't think much about it earlier, thinking about how he must have used up all of the powder.

"Until you get your life back on track, or nothing at all."

"Dad-"

"Go find your sister, and bring her home."

"Dad, please-"

"Go find Sarah."

"Okay," he sighed, standing up immediately and letting the chair scraped the polished floor. Wheezie shifted uncomfortably at the sound, and Rafe had an urge to do it again, just for the sake of riling his father's anger.

He cursed silently, walking away towards the table and to the porch, all while thinking about the joy if he could destroy the Pogues' life for making his hard.

The drive from Figure 8 to The Cut took him 30 minutes at high speed and being fully caffeinated, and when he arrived at the Chateau, all riled up from the quarrel with his father that he had before, he didn't try to see if his sister was even in there before barging into the small home.

"Yo, what the fuck?"

"Where's Sarah?" he muttered, giving Kie his side glance and continued searching for her. "Where the fuck is she?"

"Yo, bro, this land is off to the kooks," JJ stepped in, eye to eye as he leveled up to Rafe's height. He was only an inch shorter, but the difference was apparent. He continued to place his hands against his chest, whispering slowly. "Especially to crackheads like you."

Rafe laughed, tilting his head to the back to release the tension building up in his body. He was so, so close to give the blonde boy the consequences of his words, but was halted when Sarah entered the room, hand in hand with John B.

"What are you doing here?" she groaned, walking forward and standing in front of him. "God, can't you leave me alone?"

"Oh, trust me, I rather do that more than anything especially-" his eyes trailed to John B, "When you're fucking with a trash."

"JJ-" Kie stepped up, pulling JJ's shirt to stop him from doing anything. She sighed, knowing that this was bound to happen anytime soon, and she had told John B about this before, but he didn't listen. Now it was like her job to protect her friends from Rafe.

"Leave," Sarah stated, her lips pulled into a tight grimace. "Leave before I'll tell dad about this."

"I'm just trying to protect you," he ran his fingers through his hair, making it more messier than ever. Why couldn't she get that? All he was doing - it was all to protect her, so that his father could see him for what he's worth.

"You know what?" he sighed, wrapping his face with his large hands and turning towards the exit. "You wanna be one of them? Go. Don't ever come back home. You're just another trash, anyways."

He wasn't sure if he meant them, or if it came from the heat of the moment. All he could think about was to run away, to hide and to never come out and face his father or the judgement put by everyone else. He felt an uneasy feeling rising in the pit of her stomach, but he was too proud to say sorry.

“That was useless," he thought, leaning over his motorcycle and blinking his eyes against the lights by the side of the road. He couldn't go back now, not when his father had just ordered him to bring Sarah home and he had failed to do so, and he couldn't go to Barry's; his dad could find him there if he search for him the next day.

He groaned, feeling the cold air nipping at his skin until the final thought occurred to him. He laughed then, not sure as to why he hadn't been thinking of that sooner, and soon he was in front of the mini apartment.

He rapped on the door and waited patiently, his heartbeat quickening. He looked at his watch, checking if his arrival was too late. He groaned, noticing the time, but it would be embarrassing for him to turn now.

(Y/N) was trying to figure out what colour should she put into the frosting mixture, her hands on her waist when she heard the knock.

Her head instinctively looked at the clock, frowning when she read the time. It was not that late, only around 10 p.m., but she was not ready for any guests or her friends to come over.

Had she been too loud that the cranky neighbor next door who sleeps early everyday had come to tell her off?

She sighed, lowering the music coming from the radio before making her way to the door. She was in nothing but her ribbed top and a pair of sweatpants, and her hair was messier than ever.

"I'm sorry, Jerry," she sighed, opening the door to greet the old man. But standing in front of her was not the grey-haired man with furrowed eyebrows, ready to scold her, but it was the boy she had been crushing on since forever instead.

"Rafe?" she exclaimed, and she couldn't deny the shock spreading through her veins at the sight of him. He was sweaty, like he had just been in a fight, and his shirt was sticking to his body. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, I'm sorry, can I come in?"

The smell of freshly baked cupcakes wafted into his nostrils, and he noticed the drool in his mouth. He didn't eat dinner that much, being forced to chase after his sister, and all he wanted was to enjoy some good food and get a good sleep for the night.

"I'm not. . . we can't. . . I'm not prepared for anything-"

"It's okay, I didn't come for sex," he bit his lips, trying to contain her amused laughter at her statement. "We're friends, (Y/N), aren't we?"

"Yeah," she raised a brow, not grasping at the way he was playing his words. She allowed him in, asking him to sit by the kitchen counter and checking her porch outside to see if there was any cameras in case he was trying to prank her.

Rafe Cameron never contacted her for anything if it wasn't for sex.

"What are you making?" he pointed at the mess on the kitchen, and (Y/N) tried to hide her red face as she quickly tried to put the stained bowls and cutleries into the sink.

"Uh, cupcakes."

"Yum," he chuckled, liking the way she was so nervous around him. The truth with (Y/N), she was extremely wild in bed but also very shy outside. It was like a complete two different person, but he was always intrigued by this.

The first time they had done the deed, he was shocked when she got into control, and he would lie if he said he didn't enjoy it. That night was one of Rafe’s best nights, the starting point to the many after.

"Relax, (Y/N)," he laughed, watching as she tilted a cup and placing his hand under the table to catch it before it could break. (Y/N) yelped, struck to her position, and let out the biggest relief when Rafe put it back to its previous place, safe as ever.

"Why are you so jumpy?" he whispered, sneaking beside her to help with whatever she was doing. He hadn't got a clue about this whole baking thing, only watching Cake Wars for the drama, but he wanted to help the girl beside him if it means he got to spend time with her.

"What are you doing?" she muttered, glancing at Rafe's hands as he whisked the fluffy frosting. "Rafe, you're going to get it more clumpy."

"No, I won't."

"Rafe, I swear," she groaned, reaching over to grab the whisk only for him to turn around, laughing while she struggled to get him.

"I'm just making it more fluffier," he smiled, continuing to whisk the mixture without even looking at the white colloid. He was too busy looking at her, and he wondered if she knew about the small amount of flour powder that had gotten on the top of her nose.

"Was the coke good?"

"Huh?" she tilted her head, confused, and still angry at the way he was not listening to her.

"The nose. Was the coke good?"

(Y/N) gave him a look before going to the corner to stare at herself in the mirror, letting out a yelp when she saw the powdery stain on her nose. She quickly dusted them off, stalking back to the still-whisking boy, and she wondered about the amount of energy he had in him and how he was still not tired.

"Rafe! It's all clumped!" she sighed, finally having a hold on the large bowl. She took her a finger and tipped it into the mixture, pulling out before slipping the finger into her mouth. Her face scrunched up, and she reached for the glass of water by her side.

"What? It's more prettier. More texture-ish. If we're in Cake Wars, we'll be the winner."

"That's not how it works," she groaned, pouring the failed mixture into the sink and letting the water cleansed them off. "Now my cupcake's going to be naked."

"You know what can be naked too?"

She held up her middle finger, placing the wet bowl onto the counter and using the clean cloth to wipe it dry. "And I'm not giving these to the children's home naked. You have to help me, Rafe."

Rafe felt a smile tugging on his lips at the mention of 'children’s home', and he thought about how perfect could she be. She’s the epitome of the girl everyone wants to be - she's good in school, never using anyone's money for her, good at baking, and has a big heart?

He thought about how she's good in bed too, but he tired to shake the childish thought away.

"What can I do? Should I go to the store and get any Betty Crocker's frosting?" he offered, his hands in his pocket to reach for his keys. He watched as her shoulder slumped, and he felt bad for ruining her cake. He touched her shoulder, "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't know it would actually be clumped. I thought it would get even more fluffier."

"You don't think, Rafe, that's why," she sighed, "But that's alright. Do you think you can help me make another one?"

"Are you sure? I don't want to ruin anything," he backed away, glancing at the sink and thinking about the clumped mixture making their way to the sewer.

"Yes. Can you reach for that sugar? That's flour, Rafe, god, yes, yes, okay, c'mere," she rolled her eyes, taking the container from him and dumping the content into the dried bowl. "Now, what do we do?"

"Put water?"

(Y/N) laughed, tilting her head to one side, trying to clutch her stomach from hurting. "Yeah, if you want the kids to get sick."

"Okay, Gordon, what should we do next?" he grunted, but he liked the lightness in the air. How the conversation flowed easily, and how quick he regained her trust to help her make whatever this is.

It was like she didn't care about the Rafe Cameron that gets into fights with the pogues or snorts coke when he's stressed. He felt like staying in this moment forever, wanting to help her bake whatever and watching her smile.

(Y/N) handed him the butter, muttering something along the words of 'dump them in', 'use the mixture', 'you're going to break your arms' and 'watch while it's whisking'.

He didn't care about the many orders she was giving him - he enjoyed it. He truly liked how his night was ending after a long day of bullshit, starting with his college sending him a letter for the vandalism he had caused outside of the Dean's office, Kelce and Topper going on a road trip without him and giving him the explanation of 'we asked you, and you said no'.

In truth, he didn't even remember anything about meeting them. His memory was starting to fade, and he shuddered at the thought of not knowing anyone when he reaches Ward's age.

"Okay, that's enough," she groaned, switching the button off. Rafe apologized quickly, being so caught up with his own thoughts, and waited for her next order.

"Choose the colour," she exclaimed happily, pointing out two different food dyes. "I can't choose!"

Rafe skimmed over the label that said 'blue' and 'pink', and made a face. "Are you going to give the blue ones to the boys and the pinks to the girls or something?"

"What? No?"

"Okay. . . why can't we just use both?"

"And make purple?"

"Yeah? Hey, look, I'm wearing blue and you're wearing pink!"

(Y/N) looked down to the ribbed top, noticing the colour, and her face turned into a red shade. Now everything's going to be awkward.

"Okay, purple it is," she rolled her eyes, giving him the blue bottle and taking the pink one for herself. "Three drops together. Are you ready?"

"Mhm."

"1."

Rafe licked his lips, so eager to watch the colour forming.

"2," she looked at him, and back to the frosting. "Rafe!"

"What?" he raised a brow, following her gaze and watching the blue dots on the frosting. He put his hand over his mouth, too stunned to say anything. "Oh my god, I'm so-"

(Y/N) laughed out loud, this time with her hands gripping onto the kitchen counter to stabilize herself, her mind rewinding back to his expression when he found out what he just did.

"Ha-ha, now you're just being an asshole," he rolled his eyes, but he was glad he had made her laugh. Instinctively, her laugh had made him feel better, and all of his worries dissipated into the air.

After a while, she tried to get ahold of herself to put the pink drops in, but failing to do so as his face kept appearing in her mind. Rafe groaned, having to wait for a few minutes now, and pulled her to feet. He pushed her against the counter, her back against his front as he trapped her.

"Don't laugh."

(Y/N) bit her lips, being in this position but not for what they usually do, and concentrated on dropping 3 drops of pink into the bowl. She cheered when she was done, pulling his hand away to move to the other side. The back of her neck was still hot, and she could still feel his arms around her.

"Mix it," Rafe smiled, leaning against the counter to watch as the mixer whisked the frosting, turning the pearly white colloid to a beautiful dark purple.

"It's dark!" she groaned, but she thought about how it still looked good, though it wasn't her expectation. Her job was almost finished now, and she could hear her bed calling.

"Now, the fun part," she smiled, taking her icing materials and placing them before his eyes. She watched as he laughed, being so excited as if he was a toddler seeing a playground for the first time.

"They used these in Cake Wars," he said proudly, showing her a nozzle.

"Stop with your Cake Wars," she mumbled, preparing the icing bag and giving Rafe one. "Put some frosting- not yet, Rafe, God, do you ever wait? Don't fill the bags too much, just in the middle, yes, just like that, and, wait, let me do mine."

She showed him how to do the perfect icing, practicing on a clean plate and asking him to do the same. He scoffed at her, saying how he got this, but what appeared was nothing more than a crooked line.

"That's nice," she muttered, sighing. "For a coming-out party."

Rafe groaned, trying to copy her artwork, and by the time it was 12.03 a.m., he had managed a copy of hers. Not literal, but there was a hint of hers in his.

"Okay. Now, Rafe, we'll make this quick. I do 80 cupcakes, and you do 20. Is that okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, concentrating on his piping bag. He watched as she did the first cupcake, ending her icing perfectly and exclaiming happily as she put it aside. She looked at him, waiting.

"Don't look at me, you're making me nervous," he mumbled, and leaned to decorate the cupcake. It took him a total of 2 minutes, stopping at times and getting a yell from (Y/N), saying how he should not stop, and the result was impressive. At least to him.

"This will probably be in the rejected part of a bakery, you know, that they'll sell with a discount."

"Not everyone can do arts, (Y/N)," he rolled his eyes, but he truly enjoyed the joke.

It was nearing one in the morning when Rafe saw her sighing in relief, placing the last cupcake into the pastry box and safely storing them in the refrigerator. Her hair was in a bun, he had helped her put them up, and when she refused to let him help her, he gave her a poke.

"What? It's not like it's my first time putting your hair up."

"God, Rafe, you're impossible."

His eyes were almost shut, being so tired after being a cake decorator, and all he wished for was to pull her into her bed and sleep until the morning greets them. He waited until she was done cleaning all of the utensils, walking tiredly towards to him to wake him up.

"Get change, Rafe, I'm not letting you sleep in my bed with that shirt and that sweatpants."

"It's not a problem before," he mumbled, allowing himself to be pulled by her to the bedroom. He removed his shirt weakly, pulling off his sweatpants and jumping into the bed as soon as she closed the light. (Y/N) giggled lightly, noticing how adorable he was being, and she pinched his cheeks before she could stop herself.

"Take off your clothes."

"I'm not going to take off my clothes," she laughed, pulling down her shorts and getting into the bed beside him. She finally laid her back against the mattress, letting out the biggest relief ever as she tried to get comfortable.

He pulled her close towards him, breathing into her scent. She smelled like cupcakes, and he loved it.

"I'm going to the children's home with you."

"What?" she pulled a face, because she wasn't sure if she had heard him right. There was no way Rafe Cameron would ever step his foot into a children's home, what more to give out dark purple cupcakes.

"I'm going to the children's home with you. To give them cupcakes."

(Y/N) smiled and kissed his cheeks. "Okay."

"And we should do this again."

"Okay."

"Goodnight, Rafe," she laughed lightly, placing another peck before closing her eyes.

He placed a long kiss fully on her lips, feeling the butterflies soaring in his stomach. "Goodnight, (Y/N)."

taglist is close atm until i figure out wtf is up with tumblr :(

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleep @im19yearsold @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @drewstarkeyluver @unfortunatekiwitrash @Mellifluouszayn @hhishho @hvrcruxes @scottybitch @asimpwriter @starxqt @amaya124 @Made212 @adriee16 @eggirl @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @beyatch012 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @lumzs @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @Emmalvei_03 @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagines #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagines #rafe cameron smuts #rafe cameron fluff #outerbanks #outerbanks imagines #outerbanks x reader

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