#[they're really on a space kick lately...]

[sysig]

Good skeles, like you lots (Patreon)

[loopplays]

Loop's back at it with that marshmallow guy, traveling the universe!

[averlym]

whshdfhfjf.,,,

[vaspider]

Spider, can I ask you and your followers for some input in a situation? I want some unbiased opinions, especially from parents of adult kids (bonus if your adult kids are disabled). I've tried to be as unbiased as possible and include both sides. I am aware that you're under no obligation to actually answer, but I'm hoping that if you're not able to provide any input, then one of your followers might be able to.

TLDR at the end.

The context:

Basically, I am an adult in my late 20s. I haven't lived with my parents since they threw me out at 19 for being diagnosed with autism and they were told that I wasn't capable of living independently without years of occupational therapy. I was homeless for 13 months. Like literally two days later, they dropped me off at work, confiscated my house keys, and said to find somewhere else to sleep because I wasn't coming back home. (My parents insist that I wasn't actually homeless because I already had my current job and was able to afford to stay at a youth homeless shelter. I say "what the fuck do you think Homeless Shelter means??") After that, I was able to get a government grant for chronically homeless youth that allowed me to get a room in a student housing complex. It's not dorms, but it works like a dorm. I do have a private room.

My bedroom of my apartment is a mess. My bedroom has always been a mess. I have AuDHD and multiple disabilities, including extreme fatigue so that's not unexpected. During lockdown, it was especially bad. I had to move out of my last apartment in 2021 because one of my roommates was a bigot and my building wanted a new tenet so they could charge more rent, so between the two of them, they forced me out for being a "safety concern" due to the mess (the roommate did things like lie and say I didn't bathe, even though I was literally still wet from the shower). My parents ended up helping me pack up my stuff and move to a new place. I've been here for a few years and my roommates here have always been okay with the mess because it stays confined to my room.

(Also I wrote this at like 5AM and I'm half asleep but I wasn't going to be able to go back to bed until I ask someone unbiased. So please excuse any typos, and I hope everything makes sense and nothing came out as gibberish because sometimes by brain refuses to Word Good.)

The problem:

My mother decided when I moved in that my dad was going to be inspecting my bedroom in order to make sure it's clean. He's been putting her off but she's been on his ass about it for three years so he's finally caved and said that next time he's here to bring me something (I cannot drive due to disabilities), that he would be inspecting my room.

I do not want my room inspected. I've been very clear about that since day one. Yes, my room is a mess, but I'm also a grownass adult. My parents say that since they've given me some money for my rent over the past few years that they're entitled to inspect my room. I say that it's a violation of my autonomy. My room is my safe space. My mother is an obsessively clean person so growing up, my room wasn't really mine, and everything had to be to her standards whether I liked it or not (including things like what color I paint my furniture that I owned).

My parents do not care about my boundaries, and would say that since I've proven incapable in the past (re: because I'm disabled, not that they'd ever admit it), that they're trying to protect me by keeping me from being kicked out again.

I am skeptical about this and believe it's more about controlling me (see: throwing me out for having autism and just generally being extremely controlling my entire life). My parents have refused to stop giving me money for my rent every now and then (I have a job and pay at least the majority of my rent, but there are some months where business is slow and I don't get many hours, and no one wants to hire me because I act Autistic and use a cane) and I end up short. I have resolved to do everything I can to not need their help, including having my sister pick up my prescriptions, in order to avoid my parents coming over and inspecting my room.

Also, my building already does quarterly inspections and they've always been okay with my room, but I know my room won't be to my parents' standards. I don't have any local friends that I could ask for help cleaning up, but like, I'm a Spoonie. I clean my toilet and then have to go lay down because I'm getting dizzy. I am not making much progress myself.

The question:

Are my parents right? Have I shown that I cannot be trusted to keep my room clean, thus entitling them to come inspect it to make sure it's not a mess. They will definitely yell at me and have threatened to withdraw what support they do give me if my room is a mess or I refuse to let them inspect it? Or am I right to put my foot down and enforce my boundaries?

Side note, my parents have a history of being abusive and controlling. That's something I had to prove to the government to get my grant. They would insist that it's not abuse. Some of it was quite bad but I'm not going to get into it here.

TLDR:

I'm an adult with disabilities who has my own apartment. My parents think they're entitled to come inspect my room to make sure it's clean. I say that it's my apartment and I say no. They have threatened to withdraw what support they do give me if I refuse. Are my parents being unreasonable, or am I the one being unreasonable for refusing?

Your parents have no right to inspect your room. You are an adult. This is your apartment, not theirs. Your mother is wrong. Your parents are being invasive. I think they think they're being reasonable bc they care about your well being, but they aren't respecting your autonomy.

Sometimes, being a parent means you gotta let your kids not do things the way you would or even not do things the way that is best for them. It's hard, but it's necessary.

If you still lived with your parents and your lack of cleanliness was affecting their lives, it might be different ... but this is just your parents being fucking weird.

[24-05txt]

In regards to the whole soul mate thing, Soap's been through all the phases.

He'd started curious, then confused, then mournful, then resentful. For now he's settled somewhere in the vicinity of apathy—maybe spite.

He doesn't have a soul-mark. Never has, never will, and that's... fine. He's far from the only one lacking that kind of connection, and that's enough for him to feel understood. Not alone. He's got plenty of good friends besides—with and without soulmates of their own—and he's happy that way. Really, he is; it took him a fair amount of work to get to a place where he could say that and it not be wishful thinking. He's got friends, family, dalliances, motion and company and light in his life despite the lack of a mark that tells him where his place is.

And then he meets Ghost.

The Lieutenant is huge in the sense that his presence alone takes up what space his height and muscle can't. He's quiet, too, at least before Soap makes the effort to worm his way under all that tacgear. (The man is intriguing, what can he say? Who else walks around with a honest-to-fuck skull mask day in and out.)

Ghost seems to tolerate him at first, then inexplicably starts to prickle and grouch whenever Soap comes within six feet of him. He could make up a few reasons for why that is, but instead contents himself with pretending he doesn't notice—pushing the implied boundary until Ghost mans up and tells him off.

He never does, though. And it's not long at all until Soap's found that the boundary has given way and Ghost is—well he's actually pretty pleasant to be around. He's funny, and patient, and gives way too much of a shit to be in a career that pretty much ensures the death of everyone he works with. (He likes to pretend he doesn't, but there's no other reason he would have been waiting up in that church for Soap—in fact he shouldn't have still been there at all, since he'd already scoped an escape route. The bastard's soft, is what he's saying.)

And that's when things start to backslide just a little.

They're sitting in the mess—only three of them, the Captain unable to grace them with his presence—and Gaz is talking about his sister's husband's new boyfriend being the result of a late-discovery soulmatch.

"Could you imagine," he says, pausing to chew his mouthful before he continues. "Going thirty years knowing there's someone out there for you, and not seeing them until after you're already married?"

"Could be platonic," Soap pointed out, not bothering with the same courtesy of chewing his food. Ghost kicks him under the table for it, but he honestly can't be asked to care for only three words worth.

"Could be, but still—could you imagine?"

"Nope." Soap pops the 'P' and grins. Ghost doesn't kick him this time since he hasn't taken another bite yet. "I'm a wee bit hopeless in that department."

"Ah, brother." Gaz reaches out and they clasp hands for a moment, then he nudges his shoulder. "You and me both. Never much got the fuss about it, but that does seem like some sort of cosmic irony yeah?"

"Issat irony?" Soap asks. "Don't think that's right."

Obviously, that incites a short argument that ends when Gaz pulls out his phone to look up the actual dictionary definition of 'irony', and Soap grasps to change the topic to literally anything else to avoid Gaz gloating on the off chance that he's right.

"Lt, what about you?"

Ghost blinks at him as if he hasn't been staring at the both of them through the whole conversation.

"I know what irony is, Johnny."

"No—" he can't help the scowl, and talks over Gaz's sudden jeering as he shoves his phone under his nose. Soap lifts his chin to avoid it. "You got a soul mark?"

"Read it and weep, Soap!" Gaz cheers, only slightly subdued in respect for every else in the room.

"I do." Ghost says at the same time, dipping his head in a tiny little nod, and Soap's world ends just a little bit, right there in the mess hall. Curls up, withers, and dies without so much as a squeal.

He's not able to ask if Ghost knows who it is, or if he's met them, or if they're still alive, or if it's romantic or platonic; he's not sure if it even matters, because Johhny knows right then that he will never be as close to Ghost as they are.

And it hurts.

It hurts in a way he wasn't entirely expecting.

He must hold it together well enough through the rest of dinner, and then through walking with Gaz back to their rooms, but once he's got the door locked behind him he feels the smile fall off his face. He sits down on the edge of his bed.

Ghost has a soulmate.

Ghost has a soulmate and Soap is pissed about it. Because that soulmate isn't him—it can't be, since he doesn't have a mark of his own.

It's just—it's unfair. They work so well together, on the field and off. He knows for a fact no one else can read Ghost as well as he can, no one else talks to him like he does, he doesn't hang around anyone else like he seems to hang around Soap. If anyone should be Ghost's soulmate, it should be him.

But he's not. Which means there's someone else out there that can watch his six better, understand him more, have more satisfying conversations—and it seems fucking impossible, because he doesn't even know how it could get better given the time they've known eachother... and yet.

And yet Ghost has a mark, and Soap doesn't.

It takes him days to get over it—at least enough to act himself when he's in company. Ghost tries to get him to talk about it three separate times before he can manage to get his shit together. He won't *lie* to Simon, nor is he about to admit to what's eating at him, and it leaves him snappish. Leaves the vitriol closer to the surface than it ever has been around Ghost and he hates to see how he reacts to it; he doesn't cower, doesn't flinch, doesn't avoid him, just stares—in a different way than before. John's temper will flare and Ghost will freeze a little, tilt his head, furrow his brow, and fucking stare at him until the moment passes. It might be better if he raised his voice in return, let it escalate into a proper fight—or even if he shut Soap down hard and told him to cool off. Instead Ghost looks at him like he's gone and become a stranger; like he's confused where he doesn't expect to be, and that hurts almost as much as finding out his place isn't next to Simon—or at least, he doesn't have any rightful claim to it.

[literaila]

emotions

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you and megumi discuss how terrible satoru is

warnings: little spat between gojo and megumi, reader is the only sane one, lil fluff, and pining ofc

last part | next part

*

year three.

you're used to the door slamming open every day when they get home--and you've given up on scolding all of your family members about it--but what you're not used to is megumi storming through the door, his aura a dark and stormy color as he walks by you, not even bothering to look your way, and slamming the door to his room. all within a good three seconds. 

and, okay. you blink, trying to comprehend him, or what just happened. 

satoru comes in next, slower, more peaceful, shutting the front door softly like it'll make up for megumi's actions. for whatever he probably did. 

you immediately turn towards him, frowning. "what'd you do?" 

"why did i have to do something?" satoru asks, scoffing. "the kid is a glorified teenager. or an old man. he's moody." 

"yeah, but he didn't even say hi to me," you cross your arms, trying to analyze his body language and the twitch of his lips. 

satoru waves a hand at you. "join the club." 

"seriously. is he okay?" 

satoru kicks at the floor, mumbling something indecipherable under his breath. 

"satoru." 

he looks up, almost pouting. 

"what happened?" 

"i was just teasing him--" he's already pleading for mercy, taking a step towards you with his arms out. "i didn't even say anything bad. i just said something about his attitude, and he told me to leave him alone, and i... i didn't do anything!" he swears. 

and you both know that he's lying. you sigh, shaking your head at him. 

"did you listen when he told you to stop?" 

"no," satoru says, with a fake smile. 

"then you did something," you take a step away from him, watching as he slides off his jacket, then his glasses. "what were you teasing him about?" 

"he was telling me about some kids at school. i guess they're scared of him, or something." 

you raise a brow. 

his hand gestures to megumi's room, helplessly. "you know him and i like to mess with each other, i didn't think that he would... get upset." 

you almost laugh, because he looks so guilty, unknowing, and childish. and you can tell--by a mere glance--that satoru feels bad, and doesn't want to admit that. 

you snort, still shaking your head. this man is the sole cause of all of your problems. "okay, well you should apologize to him, and listen when he asks you to do something--" 

"no." 

"excuse me?" 

"will you talk to him instead?" he pleads, tilting his head at you. "you're so much better with him, and he'll listen to you." 

"satoru," you frown. "i didn't do anything. megumi doesn't need an apology from me." 

"but he's just going to yell at me," he whines, body flailing pathetically as he emphasizes this point. "and he's scary when he yells." 

"he's nine." 

satoru shakes his head. 

you flick his forehead. "honestly, all you have to do is say that you were wrong. easy." 

"i don't wanna say that," he mumbles, feebly, crossing his arms like a toddler.

you groan. "satoru--" 

"i have to go pick up tsumiki anyway. please? just talk to him? do you really want him to sit in his room all alone and be all gloomy?" 

satoru's lip twitches because he knows that he's got you there. just the idea of megumi brooding alone is enough to break you. 

you scowl at him, crossing your arms with a knowing glance. "i'm going to let megumi punch you, and then i'm going to do it myself." 

"we're not supposed to encourage violence." 

you roll your eyes. "go get tsumiki. do not be late again. i'll see how he's feeling, but we're going to talk trash about you, just so you know." 

"see? this is why i love you." satoru grins, then pecks your cheek. "okay, got to go! good luck," he says and swings himself out the door. 

and honestly, how did you get stuck with him? 

*

you give him a couple of minutes before you knock on the door, assuming that any space he has to cool off is probably good. but you can only wait so long. 

there's a worry somewhere in your chest, the fear that you won't know how to mend the rift between the two boys. but the other part of you feels easy, simple. 

kind of how you assume satoru feels about most things. 

if you can't fix it, you think, he probably can. 

"hey," you whisper, peeking into his room. the lights are off. "can i come in?" 

megumi shrugs. he's sitting on the bed, staring at the floor, looking like a forlorn statue. 

so you go in anyway, stepping over the backpack he threw on the floor and the books cascading out of it to sit next to him on his bed. 

it's actually a little hard not to laugh because even though he's grumpy, megumi is so cute. his little scrunched-up eyebrows and his pout make you want to squeeze him forever. you want to coo over him, or say something inappropriate, but you refrain. because you are not satoru, and you will never be. 

"how was school?" you ask, after you've settled in on his dinosaur sheets, watching him pick at something on his pants. 

he shrugs again. 

"wow. glowing remarks." 

megumi doesn't even smirk a little. 

you tilt your head, trying to meet his eyes. "do you want to talk?" you ask softly, trying so hard not to prod. even though you will.  

"no." 

you smile, a little. "too bad," you tell him, rolling your eyes for show, "you didn't say hello or give me my hug when you came in. talking is your punishment." 

"sorry," he mumbles. 

"i'll let it slide this time--only this time--okay, kid?" you give him a hard look and he nods immediately. you smile at him again, leaning up. "what happened with satoru?"

"nothing." 

"unforunately for you, he's a gossip so..." 

he rolls his eyes. "he was just being annoying."

"naturally. did he make you mad?" 

megumi nods. 

"did you tell him that?" 

he shakes his head. 

"okay. what'd you say when he started annoying you?" 

"to stop." 

"and then he didn't, so..." you hint, nudging him.

"i told him to leave me alone." 

"what'd he say to that?" 

megumi sighs. "he just said that i'm adorable when i'm mad." 

because of course he would. satoru is probably the worst person in the world. the sole cultivator of everything terrible. 

and, for some reason, you're kinda obsessed with him. 

"yeah," you shake your head, grumbling internally. "i'd expect nothing less from him. i'm sorry he didn't listen, though." 

megumi finally looks at you. "you are?" 

you raise your brows. "well, yeah. if you want to be left alone, then he should leave you alone." 

megumi looks at you skeptically. "you're not going to tell me that i shouldn't have gotten mad at him?" 

"um," you frown. "no. you're entitled to your emotions, megs. you can feel whatever you want." 

he frowns, too, but doesn't say anything. he's stuck somewhere you'll probably never reach. 

but you try to meet his eyes anyway. "and satoru'll be getting a lecture from me, don't worry," megumi smiles a little at that, looking a little more like the boy you're used to. "but i just wanted to tell you that you can talk about it with me, if you want. nobody understands being angry with satoru like i do." 

he looks away again. his fists clench, briefly, and he makes a sound at the back of his throat. "i just--why doesn't he leave me alone? he always teases me, even when i'm trying to be serious, or when i tell him to stop." 

you nod in agreement, letting the words sit for a moment. and then you say, "i think that satoru thinks if he never takes anything seriously, then the negative emotions and all of the things he doesn't want to think about won't matter to him. or as much."

"but they do matter." 

"they do. and if he's irritating you, you should tell him that." 

"i try." 

your lip twitches. "satoru's not the easiest person to talk to. but he's a lot like you, you know? in that way." 

megumi frowns. "how?" 

"you don't really like to talk about these things do you?" you ask, seriously. 

megumi thinks for a moment, fingers messing with the bedsheets, and then shakes his head, slowly, like he doesn't want to admit it. 

"satoru doesn't like it either. and he feels things the same way you do--very deeply, and seriously. that's why he always messes around. and why he frustrates you." you stop, thinking about how to explain this to a kid. how to explain it to yourself. "well, you know how when there's only one melon soda left and you give it to tsumiki, or when you let her pick the movie?" 

megumi nods. 

"that's your way of putting her first. because you love her. but it's different then the way that she loves you, right?"

"yeah. she says it, a lot," he rolls his eyes, familiar with the antics of tsumiki.

you smile. "and she gives those hugs where she tries to crack your ribs," you emphasize it by squeezing his shoulder, making him laugh. 

you swallow, shrugging. "you both show your love differently. everyone does. but tsumiki isn't afraid to let anyone know that she loves them, and satoru is, i think. and you're like that." 

he looks down at his lap, contemplating this. satoru might think that you understand megumi better than he does, that the two of you are easy, but you feel like you're standing on uneven ground. 

everything is so clear in your head. but you can't clarify the interworkings of someone as complicated as satoru for megumi. you can barely clarify him for yourself. 

"i don't know if that's the right way to put it..." you sigh. "well, i like to talk things out. like right now. i want to talk about how i feel, and why. that's how i process everything. but satoru doesn't do that. usually, he'll refuse to." you nudge megumi. "and that's okay, sometimes. but i think he's taught you to do the same, on accident." 

"that's not bad, though," he mutters, frowning. 

"no, not all of the time. but it also means that his emotions come out in his actions. like teasing you, or when he tries to get all of us to sleep in his room." 

megumi rolls his eyes again and you laugh. 

"there's no bad way to show the people that you love that you love them, but when you don't talk about things, or you try not to show those emotions, they get stuck." you poke his chest. "and then they break out, like today, and it's too many feelings all at once." 

megumi nods. 

"so when he's annoying you, you have to tell him. or if you need a break from him, or me, or tsumiki, you should say that." 

it's advice for all of you. some secret that you don't want megumi to know about--the part of you that's lying to him. the unspoken things you don't say--emotions buried so deep beneath your surface that they'll never see the sun. 

you can see the thoughts as they pass over his face, still dark, still stormy, but lighter now. 

eventually, he nods, meeting your eyes. "okay."

you give him a half smirk, leaning down just a little. "but you can't be mean about it, alright? i know today was hard, and satoru was pushing you, but it's still not okay to snap at him." 

megumi curls in a little. "i'm sorry." 

"i'm not mad, buddy," you assure him, ruffling his hair. "and neither is satoru. we're just here to help you, you know? but you have to let us in so we can. you can depend on us, i promise. and you have to be nice, because i can't deal with another satoru." 

he laughs, just a little. you rest your head on his. "i'm here if you want to talk about it," you tell him, "today, or anything else that's bothering you." 

"i know." 

and you feel like he does, just a little bit. he's a very smart kid, and you know that when you leave he'll think about it some more--put it into words that work for him. 

honestly, most of the time his intelligence frightens you--like you'll never be able to slow him down, or make sure that you're on the same page. but at least there's some use for it. 

you sit up. "good. now i'm going to leave you alone, but when satoru gets home and he apologizes, try not to yell at him?" you plead, only partly joking. "he's sensitive." 

megumi scowls, but nods anyway. 

you stand up, nudging his leg with your foot and then you step back over the maze of his things, turning the doorknob. 

"y/n?" 

you turn back, brows raised. "yeah, bud?" 

"do you want to... play cards, or something?" 

and finally, you laugh. just a little. 

*

"how'd it go?" 

"megumi said that he didn't like my haircut, and that i needed to review my wardrobe situation." 

"and?" 

"he's okay." 

you sigh out in relief. "good," you say, looking back down at the paperwork you're supposed to be filling out. the teaching courses, and jujutsu regulations, course handbooks, and bills... 

satoru sits down next to you, looking over all of the papers with a frown. "this is disgusting," he says, nudging your hand away from the pen you're lingering on. 

"true."

"take a break," he hooks his leg around yours. "let's talk." 

you sigh again. "we really need to get this stuff done, satoru." 

he shrugs. "we'll do it tomorrow." 

"you said that yesterday, too." 

"and i was right..." 

but you relent, and you turn so that you're sitting facing him on the couch, your legs crossed in front of you. 

"hey," he whispers, softly, grinning. 

"hi." 

"how was your day?" 

"boring. all i did was clean the house and wait for you and the kids to get home." 

he leans in, eyes crinkled. "can you imagine what your life would be like without me?" 

"not even a little bit. you take up all of my time."

satoru smiles, adoringly. he leans his forehead against yours. 

you want to push him away, or roll your eyes, or ask him more about his talk with megumi, or if he checked on tsumiki, but you don't. 

you just let a small, tired smile rest upon your lips and close your eyes. 

satoru is close enough to smell. his warmth is almost mechanical, unmoving. and everything about him feels sort of unbelievable. he's so close. close enough to touch and taste, if you were that daring. 

but you're not. 

"you okay?" you whisper to him, feeling his breath against your cupid's bow. you refrain a shiver. 

"i'm good," he says, voice soft and low. "you okay?" 

"i'm good." 

satoru nods against you. there's a whole minute where the two of you sit just like that, no need for words or movements. 

it's nice like this, you think. with him and nothing else. you don't get a break very often nowadays--and you don't mind it, really--but sitting with him is enough to not care. who needs a break when you've got your best friend, curled against you like a vice you'll never ever touch?

and then satoru asks, "do you think i mess with megumi too much?" 

"yes," you say, immediately, opening your eyes to meet his glorious blue ones. satoru is pouting, so you continue. "but he loves you anyway." 

just like i do, you think, so brief there's no time to push it away in your mind. 

"yeah?" 

"god knows why," you say, rolling your eyes, laughing when he bends down to tickle your neck with his nose, sniffing against you like a dog. 

but you do know why. and the paperwork can wait until tomorrow. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[my-castles-crumbling]

Just really close roommates?

You guys wanted Rosekiller :D

Year One:

"McGonagall's a hardass," Barty grumbles, collapsing back on the foot of Evan's bed, rolling his eyes. "Twenty-four inches in two days? I'm going to die."

He realizes too late that Evan is giving him a weird look, probably because he has just invaded his personal space. "Erm, sorry," he apologizes, sitting up and making to move off of the bed.

"Nah," Evan shrugs, grinning. "Too right. She's a bitch."

And Barty laughs.

Year Two:

"-and then Father said he'd rather I have been sorted in any other house than Slytherin," Barty says shrugging.

Evan, from his usual space at the head of the bed, kicks Barty's shoulder with his foot. "Your father's a prick."

Barty just snorts from his spot by Evan's feet. "Yeah. Fuck him."

Year Three:

"Alright. Marry, shag, kill..." he begins his turn, searching around his brain for the perfect three girls. He's wedged next to Evan in his bed, shoulder-to-shoulder, looking at the canopy above them.

"Shag, Narcissa Black. Every time. But don't tell Regulus," Evan smirks.

Barty cackles, ignoring a weird feeling in his stomach.

Year Four

His head is in Evan's lap, the taller boy's long fingers combing through his hair. "I took that bird to Hogsmeade," Evan offers as they lay there.

"She put out?" Barty askes, grinning.

Evan winks. "That's between me and the broom cupboard."

"Slag."

But he feels a strange pang in his chest.

Year Five

"You're an idiot," Evan says, rolling his eyes as Barty leans back into his chest.

"She's the idiot. She wants me to skip hanging out with you lot? For what?"

"Your anniversary!" Evan almost yells, shaking Barty with his laughter.

"One month hardly counts," Barty argues, rolling his eyes and leaning into Evan's hands in his hair. It makes him feel better. Calmer.

Year Six

"Honestly never would have though it'd be Reg who'd be the first of us to settle down," Barty quips, laying next to Evan, tangling their legs together.

"He's a romantic at heart," Evan jokes back.

"Don't let him hear you say that. I won't protect you," Barty warns, grinning.

"Like I need your protection," Evan says, nudging him.

He pushes back, making the taller boy yelp a bit, grab him to stop himself from toppling off the small bed. And then suddenly, without even thinking about it, they're rolling. And Barty is, without even really knowing how he got there, laying on top of Evan.

"I-" he begins to say, not sure what to say, because his body is hot, now, his chest pressing to Evan, his voice stuck in his throat.

But Evan just laughs awkwardly and places his hands on Barty's hips gingerly, rolling them both back on their sides.

The only thing that gives Barty some hope that Evan is just as confused as he is?

He leaves his hands there for a few minutes as they continue to talk.

Year Seven

"It'll be weird, huh? To not have this next year." Evan says it so casually, but the statement stabs Barty in the chest as he lays on top of Evan, their bodies pressed together.

"Suppose...suppose we lived together?" he whispers, unable to speak any louder for fear of rejection.

Evan chuckles. "You still want to be roommates? After dealing with me for seven years?"

It's only then that it all comes violently colliding into place in Barty's head.

Roommates?

No.

No.

He does not want to be roommates with Evan.

So he takes a deep, steadying breath and murmurs, "Maybe...maybe really close roommates?" he asks, unable to find the words for what he wants.

But before Evan can open his mouth to ask for clarification, his bemused expression showing Barty that he is definitely confused, Barty leans in and kisses him.

And the kiss is insane. It is intense and passionate and all tongue and teeth and they're already pressed so tightly together that Barty realizes he's been a total idiot for not doing this sooner.

Evan pulls back for a minute, eyes wide and pupils blown and whispers with a chuckle, "Really close roommates, huh?"

"Fuck off, you arse."

[sevs-corner]

Random HCs I have for the Tf 141: Mafia AU! characters :PP

for future plot points hehe

Ghost is a cat person but only came to love dogs because of Johnny adopting Riley and him ending up raising it for most of the time

On the other hand, Graves hates cats and hates you for taking care of the chonky white cat at the alleyway by the bakery (He also hates that you take care of it more than you do with him, like c'mon he wants to be fed by you too)

All of them are boy failures when they try courting you, and you try your best to reciprocate !! (but sometimes that there's so silly and trip over their own shoelaces that its too cute not to stand and watch sometimes)

Those big scary men being love sick fools

They definitely get slack for it from Nonna and Nonno

The two (Ghost and Graves) have the biggest sweet tooth actually, and then run through the entire stock of treats whenever they stop by but are unable to sit and eat

Ever since you started working regularly, the guys try to stop by as often as they can, which makes Nonno and Nonna happy (becuase they were drifting further away until you came)

Only Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz visit often even before you came but even that became harder to do as time went on

So, Nonno and Nonna likes spoiling you with food because of it (not like you knew the intention behind their actions, you were just happy to eat free food really)

Price and Johnny is the type to just drink coffee in the morning then go about their day, only eating meals once or twice

They aren't the biggest eaters, even though Johnny does more physically laboring tasks

But he's more of a protein shake kinda guy, the type to drink his meal if all of it can be blended (he couldn't be bothered to prep his own meals)

Gaz, on the other hand, needs his meals

So he ends up dragging Ghost along with him in the mornings at the bakery for the breakfast special

Ghost doesn't really care to have anything in the morning 'cause his appetite kicks in (for some reason) late at night, so that's when he eats a lot

Alejandro is a 3-in-1 coffee drinker and Rudy is appalled

Even more so at you as you encourage this behavior by making his sachet 3-in-1s fancy with all the extra foam and drawings on top (he's jealous)

Rudy is a plain black kinda guy, but will try anything you offer or have concocted with (he's just a test dummy for your experiments but he's happy being your dummy either way)

Graves loves lattes, hot or iced- you already know what he's feeling for depending how he strolls into the bakery

If he's a bit downtrodden, he needs a cold pick-me-up, but if he's hyper and needs a bit of a cold down? that hot one would be very much appreciated

He also isn't the type to eat a lot, but will scarf down anything you make (he would never decline any of your offers or experiments)

The one who gives you the best critique to your creations is Gaz, Rudy, and Ghost actually-- straightforward, gut-punched, but points of improvement all the same

Graves and Soap sugar coats too much, Alejandro gives simple praises (not wanting to make you hurt for commenting on your hard work) and Price...

Well, a simple nod and smile is enough to make you happy that he doesn't get the chance to as you prance away in happiness

>Bonus part:

Konig and Horangi loves your savory treats, like those quiches, tarts, pies-- everything, the whole menu!

Just send them a picture of your creation and they're quickly finishing off a guy and bookin' it to the bakery in no time

Konig likes the space (table) you saved for them at the side, a bit secluded but still in view of both entraces

He knows you keep it clean, with their favorite condiments stacked to the side, seats fluffed and cushioned, table clear of any food residue-- every. single. time.

Konig also like your personal favorites of treats as well (makes him feel closer to you somehow)

But draws the line at your weird concoctions of combines drinks he's not quite fond of (like that coffee and soda mix? yeah, he did not want to get palpitations thank you very much)

Horangi is one of the few who ready and willing to try out anything you dish out

Even that special energy drink you tried making for Soap once, and let's just say that he couldn't sleep soundly for a week...

He doesn't regret it though, when he sees your gummy grin and tiny hops that you do when you get excited

Maybe...next time...just lower the dosage for his sanity, please?

Alex and Farah are a duo you don't quite see often but wished you did!

Alex pops by at least once or twice a week to pick up his orders, but more often than not, you're delivering their orders to their HQ

Barely having the chance to eat with them makes you sad (they are too), but when you guys do-- you go on for hours

Gossiping is the main source of Farah's entertainment and why both also avoid doing it with you

Because, one time, they went on for hours that lunch became dinner and that became a sleep over

And they had to catch up on so much work

Yeah, they're both yappers

and they indulge you and your interest so much, that they're mainly the ones getting you the things you like and it being displayed in your room

You like that one movie with cars in it? Boom, you have the same race car as a bed

Roach actually helps around more than anyone in the family

Even though he's handling the back more, you sure as damn well know he makes the best food ever

He's sometimes with the 141 guys or KorTac duo, but either way-- you'd seen him come alone to the bakery a lot

Being his ear and shoulder when he needs it, but vice versa as well

the usual culprit that overstays at your apartment really (which makes the others rage)

Roach is the happiest when he sees you eating his food happily, so don't blame him when you become a lil' plump (you're cute either way and he'll definitely lessen it if you ask him to)

Makarov visits the least but always does the grandest of things (he's extra like that)

Surprisingly, Nikolai is tied to hip with him whenever he comes in (he keeps Makarov in check really)

And they either visit super early in the morning or late into closing that sometimes you come in early or close out late just so you could do something for them

they don't want you forcing yourself like this but they appreciate you very much

Makarov and Nikolai loves spicy food, or food that just gives them a kick in the mouth and they love how you adjust it to their taste the best

They are more of tea and beer drinkers really

Water? The tap is dry and so they are

So you have to force them to drink it in between

And that's the moment they leave and try to escape

Just so you know, you have chased them down the street before in nothing but your flip flops and you still caught up to them (not before accurately hitting them on the head with it)

Kate, Allen, and Ramirez often come in together as well, a quick order-in and a pick up thereafter

They're busy with the reconnaissance work but likes making light banter with you

Some scones, mini brownies, or any quick bite- they'll have it and compliment for your hard work

Allen likes his coffee half and half while Ramirez likes it in shots, he needs his bursts of energy being the 'designated' errand boy of the two after all

Kate on the hand, has a jug of tea (you swear) but often takes two to three cups for herself (which you happened to learn was actually all hers once you asked a confused Allen about it one morning)

And yeah, that it (thought it'd be neat to see what i can come up with for their food and treat preferences hehe) Please check out the chapters and other one-shots here in this masterlist!

[frostgears]

the chosen one

there are handlers that went to officer school and supposedly know what the fuck they're doing, all swagger with the authority of the Service behind them, uniforms like slices of space, voices like knives, their lethal charges trailing docile behind them.

they're the ones that show up in the porn sketches and the short clips of grainy video that circulate in the Fleet network. they're the ones that have pages and pages of fan fiction written about them.

then there's you. you didn't go to officer school. your entire signup process was this:

"hey, Cooper, you were in its old unit, weren't you? before it went to the lab? remember anything that'd distract it from biting at its own link sockets and screaming at techs?"

"uh, shit, sir, i can try…"

"great, it wandered into the rec room. go nuts."

you called your last conversation to mind. there'd been two major rec time activities in your last squad, and the alert that kicked off Paloma 17 had interrupted something.

you sat down next to the thing that had once been your squadmate, not meeting its weird red eyes. you already knew it didn't like that; looking it in the face was how Muñoz got their arm broken yesterday.

the augment whiffed of human sweat, the fake citrus of type-2 interface gel, something musty and unpleasant. its fatigues probably hadn't been washed ever.

"hey, asshole," you said, "you still owe me a Kinetic Princess match. best of five, remember? we were two and one when the hammer came down for P-17."

you put a gamepad on the floor next to it.

"ch. ch. ch."

was it laughing?

it swatted the gamepad away.

and then player 2's character select screen came up. without moving a muscle, it picked Valkyrie, switched her outfit to red, and handed you your ass, twice in a row, with no apparent exertion.

"ch. ch. ch."

yeah, it was laughing.

it kept laughing as it used its onboard hardware to disconnect your gamepad, choose the princess you'd just been playing, and win three matches against itself, beating Valkyrie with Marjoram.

again.

three-one.

three-zero.

three-one.

"well," someone said behind you, "that's kinda freaky. but better than tearing up the couch. guess you're on augment duty."

it was going all out. maybe trying to prove some sort of point. to itself? to you?

you got up.

it immediately paused the game.

"hey," you told it, "i gotta piss."

it followed you down the hall into the restroom. it tried to follow you into the stall.

"hah, you find a friend, Acey?" someone laughed.

"shut the fuck up, Lima." you tried to finish your business as best you could. it wasn't easy. the thing really did reek and it was not giving you a lot of space.

fuck it. you rose, didn't bother to wipe. you grabbed the augment and hauled it into the shower, spun the dial to hot, drenched the both of you, fatigues and all.

"wooooo! take it off!"

always a fucking audience in this place.

you found the zippers to strip the thing, flung wet clothing out of the shower at a spectator, pumped all-purpose soap into your hands.

"if you're gonna follow me around," you told the augment, "you gotta smell better."

this had to get done. you soaped it. all over. the generic floral smell of all-purpose soap was definitely an improvement already. felt human enough under your hands, except where it wasn't, the occasional beveled edge of a link socket. between its legs… human standard.

more hooting and hollering from the onlookers.

you remembered too late not to meet its eyes, but it just stared back at you, tilting its head a bit. no sign of aggression. was it smiling?

you never got around to the second major rec time activity with your old squadmate. you had no idea if she was ever interested. you also had no idea if sexual preferences survived augmentation.

fuck it. audentes fortuna iuvat, right? said so on your shoulder patch.

you slid a finger in.

shut the audience right up.

the thing kept staring at you.

you slipped a second finger in and stared back right up until you finished it off. it shivered visibly, made a sort of low whine.

nobody said shit after that. when you finally shut off the water, silence like a library.

you walked out. it trailed behind you. you grabbed a towel off the stack by the shower exit, wrapped the thing in it. it didn't protest. wearing nothing but your own towel, you stalked back to your bunk, hoping you still had a few clean uniforms, your expression daring anyone to mention that a single thing was out of the ordinary.

"heyyyyyy Acey, you get lu—"

someone always dared. this fucking unit.

the augment hissed. an unmodified human throat wouldn't have been able to make that noise; it sounded like a fire extinguisher. there was reverb in that hiss. there were teeth.

"oh, gods, just don't," you said wearily, looking back over your shoulder. it let Chroma, who had a tiny bit of sense in her head, back away slowly, in one piece.

anyway, that's how you became a handler. the pay bump is nice, your CO says you've been fast-tracked for officer school someday, and more to the point, the augment has already saved your whole squad at least three times.

but you have not once showered alone since that day, and you know it'd be a really, really bad idea to ever refuse a game of Kinetic Princess. that's just how it is when your real MOS is "weapon's favorite person". □

[kikyoupdates]

Girlfriend-For-Hire ⭑˚🦋⭑ 𝟶𝟸

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

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“Shit. I know it’s a bit late now, but I really don’t want to be here.”

Isaac exhales shakily. You’ve just arrived at your destination and are standing awkwardly in front of his parents’ house. He’s clearly reluctant to go in, no doubt dreading whatever is about to unfold. 

You flash him a sympathetic smile. Since he went as far as to hire someone to act as his girlfriend, he must be desperate to appease his parents. Life is difficult enough without being pressured to do things you don’t want. You just hope that after tonight, they’ll ease up and give him some space. 

“It’s going to be okay,” you promise. You’re not quite sure where you’re getting your confidence from, since this is your very first day on the job, but no matter what it takes, you intend to play your part. 

Even though you’re quite nervous as well, you still muster up the courage to reach out and grab Isaac’s hand. 

“We’ve got this,” you reassure, gently squeezing his fingers. “I’ve memorized everything you told me and I can recite it without a moment’s delay. They won’t be suspicious of us. I’ll do a good job.” 

Isaac briefly glances down at your comparatively smaller hand, which is tightly grasping his own. Whether it’s the warmth of your touch or the sincerity of your words, either way, he looks a bit more optimistic than he did a few seconds ago. 

“Okay,” he nods. “You’re right. I’m ready now. Let’s do this.” 

With a resolved expression, he rings the doorbell, and after a few moments, someone opens the door.

“There you are!” a woman beams. She must be Isaac’s mother, and you have to admit, she looks a lot friendlier than you were expecting. “I’m so glad you’re both here! You especially, [Name]. We were over the moon when we heard that Isaac was bringing his girlfriend!” 

Her gaze briefly pans down, and she notices the two of you are holding hands. This, of course, was completely intentional on your end, and by the looks of things, it seems to be doing a good job of convincing her. 

“Thank you so much for having me,” you smile politely. “It’s really nice to meet you. I hope I didn’t surprise you too much by showing up without much prior notice.” 

“Oh, of course not,” she reassures. “Isaac was the one who decided to keep us in the dark, for whatever reason. But it doesn’t matter. We’re just happy he’s finally found someone! It’s not good to be all alone at his age. He’s at the stage of his life where he needs to start seriously considering his future.” 

Isaac does his best to hide it, but you still notice how his lips momentarily split into a grimace. 

“I’m Mary-Ann, by the way,” his mother smiles. “My husband was just finishing up with setting the table. He can hardly wait to meet you as well.” 

You nod, still smiling pleasantly, and Mary-Ann leads you through the house until you reach the dining room, where Isaac’s father is waiting. 

Unlike his wife, who has a much more agreeable demeanor, he is stern-faced and imposing. To be honest, he kind of reminds you of your own father a bit. Both of them seem like the type to be needlessly strict and abstain from showing their child any affection. 

Then again, first impressions can often be misleading, so you could very well be wrong. 

“Isaac,” the man snaps. “What took you so long to tell us you were in a relationship? Do you get a kick out of deceiving your parents? I’m starting to get really fed up with your lack of respect. I didn’t raise you to be such a prick.”

…nevermind, you’re spot-on. 

“Come on, honey,” Mary-Ann scrambles to intervene. She must be the mediator in the family, or as close as it gets to one. “Don’t be so confrontational right off the bat. Let’s just focus on the fact that he actually has a girlfriend now, okay? Please help me make our guest feel at home.” 

Isaac’s father finally turns towards you, still with that cold look in his eyes, but again—you’re used to receiving the same treatment from your own father.

When it comes to dealing with shitty parents, you’ve got a lifetime of experience in your arsenal.

“It’s very nice to meet you, sir.” You maintain your smile, never allowing it to falter in the slightest. “I’m sorry if we surprised you with this news. I think Isaac was just trying to be considerate of me. I’m a very private person, and he probably didn’t want to tell his family right away to avoid putting pressure on me. But I really do apologize, and I’m glad that we’re finally meeting now.” 

You know all too well what kind of person he is. He values respect and subservience above all else, and so long as you tell him what he wants to hear, it should be fine. 

Well, theoretically, at least. 

But much to your relief, his irritation dissipates quickly enough at the sight of you. Just like his wife, he must be relieved that Isaac is finally seeing someone. It sounds like they’re extremely concerned with the state of his romantic affairs—even though they shouldn’t be. 

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you, [Name],” he nods, offering a tight-lipped, but genuine smile. “I’m Michael. There’s no need to apologize for anything. Isaac is our son, so it was still up to him to confide in us. But I guess what matters most is that he’s finally found himself a girlfriend. For a while there, we were worried that he might not even be interested in women, if you know what I mean.” 

You force yourself to keep smiling, despite the fact that your stomach just dropped. 

Just casually sprinkling in a bit of discrimination on our very first meeting. Fantastic. This is off to a strong start. 

“For fuck’s sake, Dad,” Isaac mutters under his breath.

Michael arches a brow. “Did you say something?” 

“...no.” 

It’s obvious that there’s friction between the two of them, and you can’t blame Isaac for wanting to bury this issue as quickly as possible. 

If you want to receive positive reviews—but above all else, to actually help someone—you’d better do a good job. 

“Anyways, the food is all ready, so please take a seat,” Mary-Ann says, gesturing towards the dining table. You offer her a smile in return, grabbing a seat just beside Isaac. You take it upon yourself to sit across from his father so that he doesn’t have to, and based on the appreciative look he gives you, it clearly doesn’t go unnoticed. 

Mary-Ann happily hums as she heads into the kitchen to bring the food out. You offer to help her carry a few plates, but she insists that you’re the guest and you don’t need to worry about a thing. 

“Your girlfriend has better manners than you do,” Michael tuts. “You should have been the one to offer to help your mother. I wonder when you’re going to grow up.” 

Isaac’s expression darkens. “Okay. You’re right. Sorry.” 

“There’s no point in apologizing. Just be more considerate in the future. Ever since you moved out, I can tell you’ve become rather self-centered.” 

Fucking hell. This really is like a sit-down with your own parents. It’s every bit as uncomfortable as you remember it being, but the only difference is that, as much as your parents were shitty to you, they didn’t go out of their way to air their dirty laundry in front of guests. 

Unfortunately, it seems like Michael doesn’t have that same decency.

Sensing Isaac’s discomfort, you decide to engage his father in conversation and take some of the attention off him. 

“So, Isaac tells me you’re a lawyer,” you say. “I heard you’ve handled all sorts of big cases before. I’ve always felt like it’s a very high-pressure job, especially for the lawyers that actually go to court. I’m amazed you can keep your calm in front of so many people. That’s really impressive.” 

You figure that stroking his ego is probably the best way to appeal to him, and thankfully, it turns out that you’re right. 

Michael clears his throat. “Yes, well, there’s no point in doing a job if you’re not going to do it properly. And it’s also true that not all lawyers can handle going to court, which is why they choose more niche areas of the law. But I find fulfillment in working as a defense attorney and keeping innocent people from ending up in prison. Back when I was younger, I was more enticed by the idea of working as a prosecutor, but I started to see things differently as I grew up.” 

“How so?” 

“Statistically speaking, most criminals are repeat offenders. Which means that even if they get lucky and are found innocent of one crime, they will later commit another and end up in jail regardless. I realized that rather than going after lowlives who would likely be punished at some point or another, my talents would be better suited for protecting innocent civilians from having their lives ruined beyond repair. There’s nothing more devastating than being sentenced for a crime you didn’t even commit,” he mutters disappointedly. “That’s why I’m there to make sure I can save as many people as possible.” 

You nod in understanding. What he’s saying makes sense, and in all fairness, he doesn’t strike you as being malicious or cruel—although perhaps quite strict and old-fashioned—but don’t defense attorneys also have to represent criminals every now and then? 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Michael chuckles. “Over the years, I’ve risen to a reputable position where I can afford to be picky with my clients. I do diligent research beforehand to determine whether it is truly someone in need of help, or a criminal looking to get away with their crime. Since I’m a private attorney, I’m not assigned to any cases without my volition. Of course, I realize not everyone is as fortunate to be selective in the way that I am, but this is ultimately the result of my own hard work. I painstakingly built up my career and am now in a place where I can take absolute pride in what I do.” 

You make a point to show that you're listening attentively, even though you can hear Isaac scoffing quietly from beside you. 

“But enough about me for now,” Michael dismisses. He casts a glance over his shoulder. “Ah, there comes Mary-Ann with the food. It smells delicious, honey. I can already tell you’ve outdone yourself.” 

Mary-Ann giggles while setting the plates down. “Save the compliments until you’ve actually tried it first. Anyways, is everyone ready to dig in?” 

You smile and nod, and it seems like Michael wasn’t just trying to get on her good side, because everything really does taste incredible. 

“Wow, you’re such a good cook,” you remark, covering your mouth as you finish chewing. “This is so yummy! It could seriously pass as a dish in a gourmet restaurant or something.” 

“Oh, please,” Mary-Ann blushes, but it’s clear that she doesn’t mind the flattery. 

“Yeah, this is really good, Mom,” Isaac seconds, happily digging in. 

“Mary-Ann has always been an amazing cook,” Michael says, eyes full of pride. “She probably could have opened a restaurant if she really wanted to, but she’s a woman of many talents and was already preoccupied with her career.”

It certainly seems like they’re still very much in love, which is a good thing, especially for married couples who’ve been together for many years. Still, it’d be nice if that warmth and affection extended to Isaac as well. You really wish his father was kinder to him. 

It’s quiet for a while, since everyone’s busy enjoying the first few bites, but you suddenly notice Michael’s gaze lingering on Isaac, and after swallowing his food, he scowls.

“You’re still wearing that earring,” Michael remarks in disgust. “Didn’t I tell you to get rid of it? People will get the wrong idea about you. It helps that you finally have a girlfriend now, but still. You’re going to be a doctor, for crying out loud. Put some thought into how you present yourself.”

Isaac narrows his eyes. “I don’t see what the big deal is. I’m still young. It’s not like I’m going to start working as a doctor anytime soon.” 

“People that see you for the first time will think that you’re shallow and cheap. You look like you’re supposed to be some kind of male stripper.” 

“And how would you know what a male stripper looks like?” Isaac challenges. 

Michael’s face turns dark red in an instant, and he slams his fist on the table, making the plates and cutlery rattle.

“Watch your goddamn mouth,” he warns. “I refuse to be disrespected in my own home. Not to mention in front of a guest.”

The tension is so thick you could probably cut it with a knife, but to you, this is more than just an uncomfortable dinner. This is a job, which means you need to remain professional and not let any of it get to you. 

“I think Isaac looks handsome no matter what,” you decide to interject. “He can pull off all kinds of things that most people can’t. But he clearly gets his good looks from both of you. I can’t help but be jealous of his genes.” 

Once again, empty flattery seems to be your escape, and Michael chuckles awkwardly, perhaps a touch embarrassed, but at least he’s not berating his son anymore. 

From underneath the table, Isaac squeezes your hand. You agreed beforehand that it was okay for him to hold your hand and hug you, so that your relationship didn’t look too stiff or forced, but this time, he isn’t doing it to put on airs. 

There’s a faint blush on his cheeks, and his eyes are full of appreciation. He even mouths a silent ‘thank you’.

You blink a few times. 

Was it really that big of a deal? I’m sure anyone else would have done the same. His dad keeps grilling him for no reason, and I feel uncomfortable being trapped in the middle. 

You suppose he’s probably not used to having someone be by his side while he has to deal with his father. At the very least, it seems your presence here is making somewhat of a difference. 

“You asked me a few questions earlier, so now it’s my turn to ask you,” Michael suddenly says. “Are you and Isaac roughly the same age? Are you still in school, or have you already graduated?” 

Well, it looks like it’s finally time for this part of the night. The part where you’ll have to seamlessly answer every question they throw your way. 

But it’s fine. You practiced for this. You studied all the information Isaac sent you as if you were preparing for an exam, and you’ve got all your facts memorized. Michael is a lawyer, so he’ll probably be looking for holes or inconsistencies in your story, but it doesn’t matter. 

You promised Isaac you’d be the best girlfriend he could ever ask for, and that’s exactly what you intend to do. 

“We go to the same university,” you reply confidently. “Actually, we’re in the same major too. That’s how we met. We have a class together. Isaac is always really on top of all the material, so he helped me study a bunch of times.” 

Michael looks rather pleased to hear that. “Oh, really? That’s good. I was worried he wasn’t keeping up with his studies, but I’m glad he’s been taking it seriously. So, you also plan on becoming a doctor?” 

“Yep! I know it won’t be easy, but I want to help people as much as I can,” you beam. 

“It’s great that you have so much in common,” Mary-Ann remarks. “Medical students have a big workload, so it’s nice that you can relate to one another. Even better if you can help each other study.” 

“Have you already taken the MCAT?” Michael asks. 

“I did,” you nod. “I passed it and got a pretty good score, so I’m just waiting to hear back from the medical schools I applied to. Hopefully Isaac and I can both start next year. It’d be nice if we ended up at the same school too.” 

“Perhaps it’s better if you go to separate schools,” Michael frowns. “Medical school isn’t easy for anyone, and I worry you might end up getting distracted. Maybe you’ve got a strong work ethic, [Name], but Isaac is prone to slacking off.” 

What slacking off? He told me he scored in the 90th fucking percentile, which means he’s all but guaranteed his top medical school choices.

You strain a smile. Honestly, it’s exhausting constantly seeing parents hold their children to ridiculous standards. You and Isaac have a lot in common in that sense. No matter what you accomplish, no matter how hard you push yourselves, it feels like they’ll just never be satisfied. 

“I’ve never seen Isaac get distracted,” you insist. “He’s probably got the best grades out of our entire senior year. Anyways, even if attending the same school would be nice, I think we’ll be fine no matter where we end up. We’re both willing to put in the effort.” 

Mary-Ann nods happily. She’s clearly the more easygoing of the two. She actually seems quite nice, all things considered. Michael is the real hard-ass around here. You just hope you’ve done a good job of convincing him so far.

“I guess medical school is still a ways off,” Michael acknowledges, taking a sip of water. “But I’m glad you scored well on the MCAT. It sounds like Isaac’s finally found himself a good girlfriend. You’re open to marriage, I take it?” 

Isaac tenses up. “Dad, please—” 

“Quiet. I was asking her, not you.” Michael turns back to you and smiles. “Well? I hope you’re not part of that new, incredibly stupid fad where young adults such as yourself choose not to get married. It’s very sad to see how people these days view marriage. If you’re not willing to commit to marriage, then really, do you even value the relationship at all?” 

“We’ve barely been dating for over a month,” Isaac grits out. “Don’t you think you’re freaking her out with the marriage talk? I’m sorry, [Name]. He’s clearly getting carried away.” 

“I’m not speaking as if the two of you are getting married anytime soon,” Michael sighs. “I just want to know what her take on marriage is in general. I want to make sure she doesn’t have twisted values like the rest of the younger population these days.”

Isaac is visibly uncomfortable, scratching incessantly at the back of his head. It must be some kind of nervous tic. He’s done it a couple times this evening. Poor guy clearly wants to get the hell out of here.

But you’re not about to get worked up over Michael’s intrusive questions. All of this is pretend, and thus far, you have yet to actually divulge any real facts about yourself. He doesn’t truly know what kind of person you are. He’ll probably never know. 

So, you smile, completely unfazed. 

“Of course marriage is important. If I’m confident about spending the rest of my life with someone, what reason is there not to get married?” 

Michael doesn’t respond verbally, but he nods and smiles, clearly pleased. All evening, you’ve done your best to appeal to him and convince him that your relationship with Isaac is the real thing, and he doesn’t seem suspicious in the slightest. 

Still smiling, you lean over and rest your head on Isaac’s shoulder. He knows exactly what you’re getting at, so he smiles back and wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. 

Both Michael and Mary-Ann watch with approving gazes. The tension has finally dissipated, and everyone is content. 

It looks like you might be better at this than you first thought.

“I’m bored of this relationship. Let’s break up.” 

Callum blinks lethargically. His pale gray eyes feel heavier by the second, and even though most people would normally be taken aback to hear those words spoken to them, at this point, it doesn’t even faze him anymore. 

“Didn’t you hear me?” his girlfriend—or rather, ex-girlfriend repeats. “I’m breaking up with you, Callum. I’m serious this time.” 

Yeah, right. 

How many times has she broken up with him by now? He’s honestly lost track. It always comes out of nowhere too. It’s as if she’s trying to catch him off guard or something. 

“Okay,” Callum shrugs. “I know it’ll blow over before long anyways. It always does. I bet you’re just in a shitty mood. Did your period come early?” 

His ex scowls, visibly disgusted. “It’s because you say those kinds of things that I don’t want to be with you anymore. You’re such an asshole.” 

“Come on, Nadia. Don’t act like we haven’t had this same conversation a million times by now. You always do this. So, I’ll give you space or whatever until you cool off. There’s no need to get so worked up.” 

“I said I was serious this time. I’ve wasted enough of my life on you.” 

With a derisive sneer, Nadia swivels around and struts off. The whole while, Callum watches with his hands shoved into his pockets. He doesn’t feel even a twinge of worry, because he already knows how this little game will end. She’s never once been serious about breaking up. Why should this instance be any different? 

But for the first time, he feels something other than indifference when it comes to being broken up with. 

He’s actually kind of pissed off.

Nadia’s been getting a little too carried away lately. She seems to think that just because he’s mellow and laid-back, it gives her the right to walk all over him. It’s a tiresome routine, and he’s gotten pretty sick of it. 

Even though he knows Nadia will come back to him, just like she always does, perhaps it’s time to teach her a lesson.

As chance would have it, he’s been hearing a lot of buzz about a new app recently. Some kind of companionship service that allows people to hire someone to act as their significant other for a period of time. 

Partner For Hire. Yeah. This is the one. 

Having downloaded the app, Callum proceeds to scroll through its catalog and see what it has to offer. Just as advertised, it looks like all kinds of people are offering their dating services at a certain price. Some assholes are charging ridiculous numbers just for a single day’s worth of fake dating. It’s actually kind of unreal, because as far as Callum is concerned, they’re really nothing special.

“No, no, no,” he repeats, scrolling endlessly through all the options. “God. None of these chicks are even that cute, and they expect me to blow a fuck-ton of cash on them? Get real.” 

Honestly, he’s kind of disappointed by how mediocre the options are. Then again, he figures it’s mainly losers that use this app. People that are too pathetic to be in a real relationship. 

The more he scrolls, the more discouraged he feels, because he doubts any of these women would be able to make his ex-girlfriend jealous. She has no reason to feel threatened over a downgrade, and none of these uggos are going to get the job done. 

Just as he’s about to toss his phone aside and consider another approach, he stumbles across a profile that actually catches his eye.

“Whoa,” he blinks. “She’s hot as hell.” 

Callum nods approvingly. Yeah. If it’s with someone like you, then even Nadia would have to reconsider her shitty choices. He’s already got a huge smirk just imagining how horrified she’ll be when he shows up with his “new” girlfriend in tow. 

Looks-wise, he’s hit the jackpot. There’s no guarantee that you’ll actually be up to his standards, but hey, he figures it doesn’t hurt to give it a try. 

More importantly, if Nadia sees you with him, she’s guaranteed to lose her shit. 

“Maybe next time you shouldn’t be so quick to break up with me,” he chuckles coldly. “Stupid bitch. You’ll be begging for me to take you back by the end of this.” 

[𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭?]

>> [𝐘𝐄𝐒]

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🦋 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[strawbby-shortcake]

Dating Tyler Durden! ♡︎

Tyler isn't one to wait around with his feelings, so he's very open and honest when it comes to you. He knew what he wanted, so he went to get it.

Honestly though, he doesn't take rejection well. So if you refused him the first time, you'll have to do it again and again until you give in. He'll display grand gestures to prove that he's the man for you.

If you didn't refuse, great! You're now with an anti-capitalist that kicks ass!!! He's not so bad once you get used to him though.

Tyler is a mix between talking a lot and not talking at all. He likes to talk to you about society and how he's going to change it for the better because you actually listen to him.

When he goes quiet, it usually means his mind is at work or he's focused on a task at hand. That doesn't mean he wants you to leave him alone though. He would rather you be by his side while he's planning.

When he starts Fight Club, you're the first one to know. He makes you promise three times that you won't say anything about it to anyone.

You are NOT allowed to fight, but you can watch him beat people up or tell them that they are "not their fucking khakis."

If you really wanted to fight though, Tyler would only allow you to fight him. Of course, he wouldn't hurt you or anything, but he'll get to see how strong you are.

Every member of Fight Club/Project Mayhem is super kind to you and often steals you things from stores. Whether it's because Tyler told them to do it, or they just wanted to, you didn't know.

For example, one day you were out with Tyler and a few of his space monkeys, and they noticed that you were staring at an item from one of the store's windows.

We all know how Tyler feels about consumerism, BUT he makes an exception for you. Plus, it's not like they're going to pay for it *hint hint*

The next morning, you wake up and see the item placed on your bed with a sticky note that has smiley face on it.

You often hear Tyler yelling at the members, but he never yells at you. He's quite respectful towards you.

Tyler takes you with him to all his odd jobs. You help him splice frames of explicit images into family films. When he has to work as a waiter, he seats you at a table and brings all the clean food you want. He gets distracted by you though and goes to your table far more than the actual customer's tables.

HE MAKES AND HE SELLS SOAPPPP!!! So that means you get to help him out and watch! Be prepared for late night liposuction clinic dumpster runs.

The first time you went with him, you threw up because of the smell. Tyler forced himself to throw up too so you didn't feel embarrassed.

If you have a complaint about anyone or someone is bothering you, there'll be a missing person report on the news within the same week. Tyler does not mess around.

Tyler doesn't force you to smoke, and if you don't like the smell of it, he doesn't smoke around you. In fact, if you really wanted him to, he would attempt to quit. It would be near impossible for him though, but you gotta give him credit!

He loves going into alleyways, hotels, or apartment buildings to dance with you. He doesn't care if anyone is watching. He'll probably have several of the guys to keep watch near the building though, just for safety reasons!

He likes to go thrifting with you. He will pick the most non-matching shirt, jacket, and pants and do a whole fashion show in the store and then walk out with it on. No, he didn't pay. He might borrow your clothes too if he sees something he likes.

Smashing cars around town at midnight? Check. Going to Lou's Tavern multiple days a week? Check.

He'll ask you to play with his hair all the time. He loves it when you do because it relieves tension and makes him sink into the floor.

CUTE EXTRAS:

Makes you special bars of soap with your name on it in different colors.

You get to try on all his cool glasses that he owns.

You'll always be protected no matter where you go.

He's extra cautious when he's out since he doesn't want to die without coming home to you. He could be bleeding out or have a limb ripped off, but he'll manage to come home to Paper Street just to see you one last time. But don't expect that because he's not going to die any time soon.

He shares his gum with you.

He's a great listener when you need him to be.

If you tend to his wounds or scold him when he gets hurt, he doesn't complain. He just sits there, grins, and leans in, knowing you'll kiss him afterwards.

He doesn't say "I love you" super often, but when he does, it's genuine.

Teaches you all about glycerin and the wonders you can do with it.

[the-kr8tor]

back to back requests, if you are okay with that. r finding out that she’s pregnant, and then hobie finding out? or maybe they both find out at the same time? up to you!!

Another banger request, bestie! Thank you 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW vomiting, description of illness, pregnancy talk, Billie and Ramona AU, Dad! Hobie, Mom! Reader, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The portal opens in the living room, from the force of it opening has the boat rocking in the stagnant water. the sounds of your trinkets falling and crashing on the floor has Peter B. Cringing, while Mayday giggles excitedly in his arms. MJ follows close behind, all dressed up and pretty for their anniversary. The portal closes behind her in a mechanical sound.

“Hobie! Y/N?” Peter yells across the small space.

Mayday babbles to what sounds like your names. She tries to escape from her father's hold, kicking and squealing excitedly.

“Maybe they're still asleep?” MJ looks behind the kitchen island, she shrugs, having no idea where you or Hobie are.

Meanwhile, Mayday escapes, crawling across the floors. Upon your request, Peter took off Mayday's web shooters because in their last visit, well, the toddler almost gave you a heart attack.

Peter scratches his head, eyes flicking towards the closed bedroom door. “Do you think they're, you know?” he asks his wife with a slight whisper, wiggling his eyebrows.

MJ side glances, “Come on, really, Pete?”

Mayday points at the bathroom further down the hallway, Peter's enhanced hearing picks up retching and dry heaving inside the closed bathroom, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls.

He picks up Mayday, cradling her head. Looks like date night is postponed when the only person who volunteered to babysit Mayday is sick.

“Everything alright in there?” he knocks softly on the door.

The living room window slides open and out jumps Hobie holding onto a brown paper bag.

“You're early, hey MJ.” He says nonchalantly.

“Hi, Hobie, is she okay?” MJ grimaces after another round of retching continues inside the bathroom.

“Dude,” Peter makes way for Hobie to enter the small hallway. “Is she sick? You know I can't drop Mayday off while there's some sort of infection happening in here–” he gets a thwack upside the head from his wife.

“She's fine” Hobie says it to the couple but it's more of a reassurance for himself. “We both think she ate something bad a few days ago and she's been like this every morning.” He knocks twice on the door.

MJ looks like she's thinking.

Your pained muffled voice echoes out. “I'll be out in a minute, sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, love. I've got your meds, yeah? Come out so you can drink it” he says through the door.

With a click of the doorknob, you reveal yourself to the party in Hobie's jumper and a very old sweatpants hanging on your hip. Your eyes are flushed, sniffing to hell and back.

“Hi, sorry I don't think we can take care of Mayday today.” You say dejectedly, eyes forlorn as you look at the toddler who's equally devastated to hear the news.

“Aww man but we've got reservations–” MJ slaps Peter upside the head again.

Hobie helps you walk with his arms wrapped around your shoulders, thumb massaging comfortingly. He whispers to you. “How do you feel?”

“I feel like my stomach is doing somersaults.” You groggily say. Hobie sits you down on the settee, handing you a water bottle and medicine.

“Y/N, sweetheart, when was the last time you had your period?” You almost did a spit take when MJ asked you the question.

“Honey, what the he–cow” Peter fumbles, realizing that his daughter's still in his arms, watching him with her big eyes.

Hobie looks at you with wide eyes, slowly realizing something. You ate the same thing he eats everyday so why are you the only one with the stomach bug?

“Uh I'm late this month…” you side eye Hobie who looks like he's about to vomit right there and then. “Why? I'm probably just stressed and…” MJ gives you a soft look.

“Are you fatigued?” MJ softly asks, you nod while Hobie observes you and you only. “Any tenderness in the chest” you nod again. Hobie flicks his eyes down to your stomach. “Y/N, darling.” She smiles at you and Hobie, Peter gives you two the most awkward thumbs up. Mayday copies her dad, nodding along.

You chuckle nervously, facing Hobie, your bottom lip wobbling.

“Y/N” Hobie looks at you with glistening eyes. “Love, I think I should swing by the chemist again.” He holds your hand affectionately, eyes never leaving yours as a smile spreads across his face.

Peter's spidey senses warn him, covering Mayday's ears in one quick dad movement.

“Holy shit! Am I pregnant?!” you screech.

One agonizing fifteen minutes later, two lines appear on the small plastic stick, confirming MJ’s suspicion. Hobie was with you the entire time, holding your hand, caressing your back as he whispers ‘I love yous’ in your ear. You know you and the baby will be okay.

[o0chiyami0o]

Second chance:

Pt 1. The Saviors

Lil warning before we start

Listen uh, I'm making a series because uh I want to. Judge me or not, I have a K9 dog with me(totaly a dog). But anyway other that I'd hope you all enjoy this lil series of mine, the reader have a bit of personality and hit of same backstory from a character, I'm not gonna really reveal who I was refering to but I'd love for you lots to keep guessing 'till someone guess it right:). Also, I'm not good with their accents so I might just slip in some the words I know, sorry.

Everything is dark and you can't even see a thing, is your eyes even open? Are you even alive? You keep asking yourself that. Your lungs feel full as if water were filling it each time you tries to took a breath.

Soft murmured can be heard but from where? You can barely make up the words they're saying "Poor soul" "Barely reach late twenties" "lord forgive this soul". And some you couldn't make up, soon the soft murmured became more louder and the voices adds up.

Your eyes finally flutter open only to meet with blinding white light as you can't feel yourself breathing, yet here you are, awake but the blinding light make you second guess it "Poor soul, it's not your time yet. I'll bring you back there but not at the same place you use to be. Be as brave as you're before." the voice say, sound so soft and soothing but something about it make you feel unease.

Before you could quest whoever's voice was it, you soon felt like yourself falling. The blinding light is no longer in view as you find yourself in a what seem to be a bulding with a gasp escape you once you feel yourself breathing again.

"What.. the fuck" you breath out as you clutch into your chest, everything felt so wrong and different as your eyes flick everywhere. The sounds of people yelling, screaming, gunshots and more chaos. Just what the hell is happening here? You ask yourself as you stand up on your feet before a groan escape you, everything hurts.

You look down at yourself before took a notice the bruses and wounds on your body which make your eyes widen 'What happening?' You repeat in confusion, you didn't have time to think before the door, that already broken anyway, kicked down by a male "Captain, foun' someone" he say, talking to the mic that were resting on his ear.

You took in his appearance, a soldier, what you can see from his uniform as his hair.. is somewhat unique for a soldier. Whatever it is, make you tense up once you saw his uniform. "Yer okay, bud?" He ask as he approach you, clutching the gun he holding while he keep his guard up.

You just continue to stare up at him, your mind telling you to fight or run but you remain still with body tensing. One time you're drowning and the other time you're here. Weird.

"Gee, could use a medic, kid" he say as he crouch down in front of you. Kid? You ask youself, this man doesn't seem to be older than you in any thought. "Come, let me help ya" he says as he put away his gun and carry you up in his arms. An arm behind your knees and the other behind your back.

"S'tense, wha' happened to ya, Lass?" Ask the man as he keeps his focus straight, running toward what seems to be a helicopter. His question remains unanswered as you keep your guard up when he steps into the vehicle only to meet four other men with the same uniform as his.

The sight make you tense up even more than you should which make the man who holding you took a notice of it "found 'er still breathing in one of the building. The other already left with the others suvivor" the man explain to his team as he sit down on the barely enough space in the vehicle.

"This is why I told 'em to check every building even there's no call out for help" mutter a man who sitting across from you, seems to be the oldest if you take in his appearance but look can always lie. "The medic is busy, let 'em be" say another man who offer you a sympathic smile.

The man who still holds you in his arms shift slightly to help you have a comfortable position while all of you fit in the small space "we're going" a gruff voice say from the pilot seat before the helicopter start do lift off from the ground.

"S'tense, where did ye find 'er?" Ask the man from across of you, tilting his head slightly as his bear shifting every time he start talking "one of the broken building, colaps as soon we leave. Lucky 'er" say the man who still holding you in place, giving his teammate a grin.

"Lass look traumatized" say the other man, who give you a softer gaze as if trying to help you ease up, that didn't help thought. "Wouldn't imagen wha' happend there, the town were turn upside down by tha' maniac".

That gets your attention as your gaze flick to the man who just talk. A maniac? Surely they just being overzealous but nothing is impossible to you anymore.

———

You can't remember shit. You're now in a medical room where they tend your wounds and bruses. They ask you your name, you say your name to them but it feel wrong to say as if it's wasn't even your name to begin with.

When the medics leave the room to let you heal, you hear the door of the room being open to reveal the man who save you "how 're ye doin' lass?" Ask the man as he approach your bed. Staying silent as you look up at him while laying down on the bed "not much of a talker are ye?" He ask, after a while he notice you're not going to answer him.

He soon called out your name with a grin on his face ",heard they called ye' that" he say as your head nod comfirm his words which make his grin widen when he knew you're not fully ignoring him. "Call me Soap, Bonnie" he say as he watch your expresion, wich to his supprised, you let out a short laughter.

This fact make him tries to pull out more of your laughter from you by making some jokes in hope to ease you up, some were so bad that manage pull out a louder laughter from you.

But soon it come to an end when one of the nurse tell him to leave you to heal, you watch him walk out of the room as he give you a grin before leaving the room.

You now left alone in the medical room, you glance to your side to find an open window that reveal the night sky. You look outside from your bed, looking at the stars as you still confused what will happend next since you know nothing of this place neither how you got here.

The stars held no answer for your questions as you found yourself slowly falling asleep, maybe tomorrow will answer at least some of the questions that have been flooding in your head.

[ghcstao3]

reunion drabble based on this

-

Johnny shouldn’t be awake at this hour, but he is anyway, and that’s about the only reason he ever hears the knocking at his flat’s door.

He decides to ignore it initially, playing it up to his imagination as he plucks away at his thesis, just as he has been for the past several months, but then it happens again—sharp, abrupt, loud. Without a doubt someone is wanting his attention.

It's irritation that reaches him first, rather than some mild form of fear. Johnny takes his time getting up from his desk, stretching with a low groan and shaking the pins and needles from his foot. He figures whoever it is would be willing to wait—they must be, being that they're so inclined to disturb him at such an ungodly hour.

His slippered footsteps drag as he moves toward the door, his near-chronic exhaustion weighing heavy on his eyelids.

There's a third knock just as he reaches his destination. It sounds more desperate than the last.

Johnny turns the lock and swings open the door.

And suddenly he's more awake than he's ever been.

"Simon?"

Except it isn't him, not really. Sure, his face is the same, give or take a few new scars. And sure, those are the shoulders Johnny had watched him grow into, and sure, that's the ugly tattoo that they both hate on his forearm—but it's not Simon.

His eyes were never that hollow.

For a moment, as Simon remains stock-still in his doorway, Johnny starts to think everything currently is just a figment of his imagination. That he's worked another too-late night and has just fallen into a grief-induced dream in the hopes of having Simon back any way that he can.

But then Simon speaks, and he sounds like his vocal cords have been torn to shreds, and Johnny doesn't think he'd ever imagine something quite so awful.

"I'm sorry," Simon rasps. "I didn't—I—"

Johnny wants to push this imposter away. He wants to pull him into the flat and never let go.

Instead all he does is stand there just as uselessly, shoulders slumped as a pooling sadness bubbles up into nothing more than a second, pitiable, "Simon."

And like that, the dam breaks. Something snaps, and with the silent tears that trail down Simon's sunken cheeks, there's a glimpse of him that returns. There's a glance of something Johnny recognizes just in time for Simon to come crashing forward into him, quietly crying into his shoulder and clinging onto his shirt like a lifeline.

It's second nature, to hold Simon in his arms. Even as conflicted as Johnny feels.

He coaxes Simon inside, gently kicking the door shut as he leads the man to the living space, their contact kept unbroken. It's become much less a home in Simon's absence, nothing more than a place to house Johnny in a city that felt so lonely without Simon.

And even then. Some nights had been too difficult to even manage that.

Johnny brings them to the couch, where Simon easily curls into him like he has so many times before, both in sorrow and otherwise. His head ends up in Johnny's lap, Johnny merely able to pet hair that's been shorn too short to card fingers through as he normally had. He lets Simon sob into his stomach, unable to offer anything more than soft hushes and words of reassurance.

The crying gradually slows as Simon eventually falls asleep, fists balled around the hem of Johnny's shirt.

He doesn't mind. He sort of just feels... numb.

Johnny thinks he should be feeling something—maybe relief, or hell, even joy—but he really doesn't feel much of anything at the moment. He's not sure what he could feel.

But as he continues to absentmindedly scratch his nails against Simon's scalp, he supposes it doesn't really matter here and now. He supposes it won't matter for another few hours, not until Simon has woken up to a better state of mind.

They'll have plenty to talk about—if this really is his Simon. Is still his Simon. And Johnny doesn't know if he looks forward to that.

He just hopes that for once, after this past miserable year, something could finally turn out okay.

[mychlapci]

That tfa hypnosis au actually kind of sounds fun, especially the difference in how autobots and decepticons hypnotize. Autobots hypnotizing their wives to be pretty and dumb, just how they like, meanwhile the decepticons realize how much they love it when their wife has more spice to them. They soon realize that getting rid of their skills would be a waste.

Optimus can match Megatron in a fight, which is no easy feat. Ratchet's probably one of the only qualified doctors they have, Bulkhead is an expert with space bridges, and Prowl's a damn cyber-ninja, he'd make a great assassin and spy. (Also, Blitzwing definitely finds Bumblebee's attitude way too fun to get rid of. He prefers it over what happened to Sentinel.)

The autobots don't know how the decepticons hypnotized them into being their wives, for all they know their personalities were completely wiped and rewritten, so they treat them like poor, helpless beings. Decepticons are miffed because how dare they assume their wives are weak, but Team Prime realize the advantage this gives them, no matter how annoying.

All they need to do is act welcoming and playful, add a splash of neediness for good measure, autobots can't resist that. (Honestly, and they think the wives are the helpless ones, smh) Wait until they get closer, coax them onto the ground and remove their weapons while they're distracted, then strike.

And the autobots fall for it everytime, especially when it comes to Bumblebee. He's just so small and helpless! And the poor thing got stuck with someone like Blitzwing, how horrible! ...Bumblebee's torn between hating or loving this, because all he has to do is act bashful as he admits that he loves using his stingers, and how could they say no to his cute face? They find out too late that Bumblebee wasn't taking about him being shocked until he's unconscious.

When their husbands come back, they're either swooning or puffing up in pride.

oh yes, we've had someone bring up the difference in how the autobots and decepticons use their wifefication hypnosis before, i really do love it. The autobots erasing everything the bot was, rewriting their personality, their desires, their ambition... the decepticons, however, have no need for pretty little dolls with empty helms. they want wives, not... bimbos. Of course, the autobots aren't aware of the decepticons' preferences. When they see their soldiers separated from their decepticon husbands, they treat them like lost little things, stupid and full of cum, they need to be relocated to an autobot husband asap! Bumblebee absolutely fucks with them the most.

But i'm also (unsurprisingly) very into the thought of the autobots coming into contact with Optimus and pitying him because of his cute little baby bump... poor thing, already carrying the warlord's heir. Of course, they don't get to pity him for long before he kicks their teeth in.

[icypantherwrites]

Icy Fic Recs

I was recently asked for some Langst fanfic recs and as noted in that I don't really read fanfiction anymore outside of my own stories, but here are a few I've read in the last ~few months if anyone was looking for a Langsty fic :) Sorted alphabetically!

Caged Nightmare

Summary: The cage is far, far too small to fit Lance, but the Galrans still force him into it. He’s then loaded like a piece of cargo on a ship bound for a cruel, painful destination and the journey to get there is just as harsh. As Lance floats in and out of consciousness over the days he comes to the conclusion that he’s dreaming when Keith of all people appears in the cargo hold (on a ship in the middle of space) to rescue him. But maybe that’s because it’s no dream at all. It has to be a nightmare because there is nothing crueler than false hope like this. But it seems so real and maybe… maybe he’s not dreaming after all.

Crimson Puddle

Summary:  Lance tried to stop it. He did. But the blood just keeps coming; gushing, oozing. It’s everywhere now; his leg, his hands, all over the floor. The crimson puddle keeps growing while he only grows weaker, the world going dark and cold and numb. And he never… he never thought he’d die like this.

Feel Me, See Me (Or Please, Please Don’t) (I always read for Halloween!)

Summary: When an attack goes wrong Lance ends up trapped in a dimensional plane separated from his team. But he’s not alone. The Druid they’d been fighting is there too. Lance’s bond with his fellow Paladins is the key to getting home, but the Druid isn’t going to let Lance so easily escape and leave him behind. He needs to subdue Lance, to use him as his own ticket back. And when you pit a Druid capable of teleporting and summoning magic against an injured, near defenseless human? Let the hunt begin.

Feel My Pain

Summary: “Your friends are going to watch you hang here,” the alien kicked the stool Lance was precariously balanced on, “until you can’t anymore. And then,” his grin was sharp and cruel, “they’ll watch you die. Helpless to do anything. Helpless to save you. And they’ll get to experience a sliver of the pain I’m in knowing that my brother is gone,” his voice cracked, “and I’ll never see him again. This is all I want and all you can offer, Paladin. No apologies. No reparations. Just your pain and theirs.”

Holding On To Hope (Chaptered)

Summary: There’s a traitor in the Coalition.

Lance is the only one who manages to escape the subsequent trap but the rest of his team is captured and they're counting on him to save them, but Lance knows he can't do it alone (he can't seem to do anything right). The Coalition cannot be trusted to help, but there are some people above reproach amongst the Rebels and Blades and now it's up to Lance, Coran, Matt and Keith to save everyone.

Only, that is, if there's anyone left to save.

Koala Hugs

Summary: They’d been told that the guest houses were supposed to keep them safe from the deadly low temperatures of the planet. And while for Pidge that is indeed the case, she learns it’s not so for Lance as she’s awoken by a projection of pure terror from the Blue Lion, who can sense her Paladin dying. And now as Pidge hurries to Lance’s guest house and finds him so so cold and still, she can only hope she’s not too late.

In the Name of Love (chaptered; also always read this every year for Halloween!)

Summary: Lance just wanted to buy a flower. Instead he's now the newest victim of a serial killer who has no plans to release him until he has served his purpose. Lance may be a Paladin but he's got a higher calling in life now. And it starts with his death. / "Do not try and resist again," his captor warned, "You will not like the consequences." Lance's voice cracked. "Like being eaten?"

Only a Crack in this Castle of Glass

Summary: Something strange is going on with Lance. The wincing and shivering and worried, scared glances in Allura’s direction mean something and Hunk is going to get to the bottom of it. But nothing could have prepared him for what he found. / “Allura was in trouble. And I… I shielded her. Me and Red. And… and we got hit. And…” Lance audibly swallowed again, voice even quieter and Hunk felt faint. “And I… I died.”

Or; the missing scene fic where Hunk (and the rest of Team Voltron) discover Lance died at Omega Shield and what this now means for them all.

Twitch 

Summary: The explosion came out of nowhere. One second Lance was rounding a corner in the Galra Empire base, bayard drawn and steps quick and light. And the next the ground was rippling beneath him, the walls were buckling, the ceiling caving and…

And now…

Now there's a slab of wall lying completely across his entire upper body, a pipe sticking out of his lower left arm, the ceiling groaning and ready to finish coming down and Lance has no idea how he's getting out of here. He's... he's not certain he actually can.