#Except spy. It’s hard to admit spy is even a friend

[cheese-n-crackerjacks]

I wanna see Scout after he’s taken time to overcome his internalized homophobia. Like before, if anyone made some kind of comment he’d adamantly defend himself like “I’m not gay! I like girls!” But after some much needed thinking and advice from close friends, now he just beats the shit out of any homophobe he meets. Like if the team was in public and heavy and medic share a quick tender moment, anyone who would dare even look at them wrong would get a face full of Scout’s bat

“You got a problem? Wanna mess with my friends, huh? What, ya hate love or somethin?? Get back ‘ere!!”

[sincerelyneo]

no control | l.jn

“i can't contain this anymore, i'm all yours i've got no control”

💿now playing: no control by one direction

❯ summary: The guy sitting at the bar next to you seems pretty smitten - and Jeno hates it. He wants to be the one making you blush…or more accurately, scream his name.

❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, friends with benefits

❯ words: 3.7k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), jealousy, arguing, wall sex, swearing, back scratching/marking?, possessiveness, public sex, reader uses she/her pronouns, pet names, slight begging, a bit angsty, porn with feelings, literally just jeno being petty and jealous.

Jeno hates to admit it, but Mark was right. Casual, no-strings-attached sex does in fact suck. And God does he know it. It’s hard to forget when his friends keep bringing you up.

“Who’s she talking to?” Renjun asks.

Jisung replies with a simple shrug before Chenle chimes in with a quick, “I don’t know, haven’t seen him before.”

Him. Jeno feels that pronoun hit harder than expected, but he forces himself to keep cool. He doesn’t turn around to see who’s got your attention, even though every fiber of his being screams and begs for him to look.

His spying friends keep giggling amongst themselves as they sit on the stools at the bar. But it wasn’t until Renjun throws back the last of his whiskey and says: “He looks pretty into her.” That Jeno’s gaze is forced to find you.

Jeno’s too proud to admit it but he finds you instantly, you’re like a magnet, a force that he’s drawn to. And truthfully, he considers it a talent that he can seek you out of a crowd in seconds.

There you are, with some guy. Some guy he didn’t know. Some guy that, from what he could see from the side of his head, was probably good-looking. The good-looking ones always liked to try and talk to you.

Not that it matters, Jeno reminds himself, dragging his eyes away from you for his own sake. You hadn’t come to this party with him; he never even asked you. He agreed to keep this casual. You could spend your time with whoever you damn well pleased.

Even if that wasn’t him. And even if that’s a bitter pill for him to swallow. 

“Leave him alone guys,” Jisung finally speaks up. “They’re probably just talking. Besides aren’t you staying over at Y/N’s tonight anyway Jen?” He asked. 

Jeno takes his eyes off you for a second to look at his friends, he’s thankful for the reminder that he was supposed to be coming over to your place tonight. But now his mind is racing. Maybe you would change your mind, ditching him to hang out with that good-looking man instead.

You’re not like that, he tells himself. While you hadn’t attended the party with him, you had promised to spend the night with him, and you weren’t one to break promises. Besides, you didn’t bring strangers you just met home, either. He had nothing to worry about.

Except…what if he did?

When he dared to glance over to the last spot he had seen you across the lavish bar, he wasn’t expecting to still find you there. Surely, you would’ve found an opening to excuse yourself and re-join the friends you’d arrived with, but there you were. Still talking to that asshole. Smiling at him. Enjoying yourself.

Maybe it was just the whiskey talking, but Jeno felt like he was being replaced as if he was across the world and not merely across the room. Because it had been well over half an hour since he had first seen them together. And who knew how long you two had been talking before he or his friends even noticed?

Jeno doesn’t like this feeling. So he orders another drink.

He tries to ignore you – tries to focus on his friends but they keep mentioning it. Mentioning you. Which makes it so damn difficult to stop his eyes from sliding over, and noticing every little detail about you. 

The short dress that had ridden up from where you’d sat down and crossed your legs, showing off more than enough of your toned thighs. The deep black of it suited you, and not just because it was Jeno’s favourite colour, but because it complemented the tumble of hair falling over your shoulder. You looked like a goddess, untouchable. Especially when you smile. God, he loves when you smile. 

Just not when he’s not the one doing it. He should be the only one to make you laugh, to make you feel more relaxed at a party. Because he knows you, all the little things and your quirks.

But not once did you glance his way; and he’s fully aware of that because Jeno has definitely been staring. You’re ignoring him, and he hates it. So fucking much.

Maybe the alchohol was catching up to him, finally settling into his bloodstream and mixing dangerously with his jealous streak because he’s suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that he has to do something. 

Impulsively, Jeno abandons the conversation he had already half checked out of with his friends, and doesn’t waste a second marching over to you and the man. Ideally, Jeno wanted you to be thrilled to have him sweep you away, but when he arrived at the booth you and him had been sitting at, Jeno sees your eyes flash with an undeniable ‘what the fuck are you doing over here?’

“Nice to see you, Y/N,” Jeno greets you charmingly, sliding right into the booth on your side without an invitation, blatantly interrupting.

“Hi, Jeno,” you reply, keeping your tone polite despite not moving to give him more room.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” It hasn’t. “I thought I’d get you a drink and we could catch up?”

Jeno’s attempt to get you away is feeble, but it’s not exactly like he had enough time to devise a good plan. He was being impulsive, jealous, reckless – acting on instinct and he instinct was telling him that he need you, by his side. 

“Maybe later, yeah Jen?”.

“Why? You having too much fun already?” he asks, which was rather a loaded question, considering you had company sitting right across from you. 

“I’m having a lot of fun,” you emphasise a little more than necessary, glancing at the brunette across the table and playfully rolling your eyes. It had the man smiling in understanding, which was quick to piss Jeno off. 

“Really?” he said flatly. “You don’t look it.”

“Maybe you don’t know what I look like when I’m having fun.”

“I think I know better than most.”

That’s when Jeno squeezes your knee, and you want to disagree, but you couldn’t. Because Jeno knew, alright. He knew pretty damn well.

The guy opposite you shifts in his seat, probably aware that he had suddenly become a third wheel, thanks to the flirty tone in Jeno’s voice. Jeno gets a sick sense of enjoyment watching the man get uncomfortable – all the confirmation that whatever little plan he had going on was working. It made him only want to do it more.

So Jeno oh so casually reaches to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear. You try not to react, but your head tilts slightly towards him, and your features soften. 

“You look beautiful,” Jeno compliments, fingers trailing down your hair, brushing over your shoulder before they settled back on your knee. “Black suits you.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. 

“Are you two friends?” The man asks, reminding you both of his presence.

“Sort of,” you began to say, just as Jeno declares, “Very close friends.”

With your cheeks now flushing, you cut him a look that he largely ignores, before feeling the need to explain yourself to the friendly guy you had just met. “We catch up sometimes. Occasionally.”

“We’ve known each other for ages.” Jeno emphasises because he liked that fact. Liked knowing he was here first, having that leverage and advantage over any guy you’d ever meet.   

“I should leave you to it then, let you two catch up,” the man says through a tight lipped smile as he began to slide out of the booth. He knew exactly what Jeno was trying to do. “Nice meeting you, Y/N. See you around sometime.”

“I hope so!” You reply trying to sound enthusiastic. You didn’t want to give Jeno the satisfaction he was clearly hoping for. 

Once the man turned his back on you, you grab your glass and take an extra generous gulp of your drink. 

Before Jeno had the chance to open his mouth and say something else that was only going to irritate you, you lean into him. 

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. “Out. Get out. Let me out.”

Shuffling along as he was told, Jeno watches dumbly as you hastily slip out of the booth after the stranger, tugging the hem of your dress down with one hand and clutching your nearly empty glass in the other.

Jeno blinks for a second as you try to parade away from him. Then it registers in his mind and he’s chasing behind you and out of the bar. That’s when he tugs on your arm to stop you in your tracks. 

“Y/N. Stop, please.”

Much to Jeno’s surprise, you do as he says, turning around and holding up a commanding finger.  It almost seemed like a joke, but there was no humour in your tone when you asked, “What were you thinking?”

Jeno tilted his head to the side, tonguing the side of his cheek. 

“We weren’t at that party together! You knew that,” you continue your rant.

“I didn’t know it was a crime to speak to you in public,” Jeno replies naïvely with an innocent shrug of his shoulders.

“You know that’s not what we do. We don’t hang out at social events, Jeno. We agreed on casual. I don’t want a relationship.”

Casual. Yeah, you seemed to really not want a relationship when you were chatting up that guy for ages. The thought makes Jeno scoff, his gaze dropping to his feet. 

 You cross your arms over your chest, exhaling, “What?”

“That guy,” he simply says, his eyes flashing with a slight fury when he looks back up at you. “You were with that guy.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Who was he?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It does matter when you refuse to even speak to me in public, but spend your whole night with him.”

Jeno’s smile is long gone, and almost, almost, you wanted to forget this whole thing and bring it back. You hated when Jeno was mad at you, not that he was very often, but he was being irrational right now. 

“I just met him, it was all friendly” you explain. “I can’t believe you’re jealous!”

“I’m not jealous!”

Jeno knew he was, but there was not a chance of him admitting that seeing you with any other man drove him absolutely insane. Every single damn time. Still, you know better.

“You obviously are! Jeno, you know how I feel about you–”

“Do I? You didn’t seem to be into me tonight.”

“Because you came out of nowhere and acted like I was all yours!”

“You are mine!”

That was the wrong thing to say. Jeno knew it as soon as it came out his mouth, saw it in the way your expression tightened slightly. Even so, he wouldn’t take back what he thought was true.

“We haven’t defined anything–” you fumble, “Infact, I think we did the opposite—” 

“How would you like it if I’d been flirting with another girl all night?” He cuts in.

“It wouldn’t matter,” you lie. “You can do what you want.

Jeno takes a few steps towards you, and it makes you unconsciously hold your breath. He’s so tall and intimidating and goddam sexy—wait you’re mad at him right now! 

“What I really want, Y/N, is to be with you,” he spells it out frustratingly slowly. “Seeing you all night long in that short dress that barely covers your ass and knowing I can’t touch you, claim you, fucking kills me.” 

Your eyes betray you, because despite every brain wave in your mind telling you to yell at him for that slightly misogynistic statement—your eyes still soften. 

“Well, you should’ve just said that,” you try to explain instead of lecturing him. “If you’ve been feeling like that you should’ve talked to me instead of acting like a caveman.” 

“You don’t listen.”

“I’m listening now.”

Jeno blinks at you, his jaw loosening as his eyes watch your gaze drift down to his lips. The action is loud enough for him to not waste another second before his hands move to your waist, pulling you in to the kiss he had been dying to give you all night. 

It’s harder than he would’ve given you earlier, more possessive – oh, definitely possessive when he forces your back against the brick wall at the side of the bar and your arms have no choice but to hastily wrap around his neck. You stumble a little, but he keeps a firm grip on you.

If you wanted him to tell you how he felt, well, that’s exactly what you’re going to get.

He tells you in the desperate way that he kisses you, lips parting and unwilling to leave yours. He tells you by the way he presses his body flush against yours, pinning you to the brick so you can’t slip away from him, not again. He tells you in the low moan that escapes him when your hand tangles up in his hair and your own lips work just as eager.

When he breaks away for a moment, he takes his time to just look at you. So pretty, so desperate, and so undoubtedly all his. 

And when you gaze back at him through long lashes and eyes radiating with lust, he has to groan because he’s the one making you like that. He’s the one getting you to bite down on those pretty lips, lips that were made for him, belong to him. 

But you’re feeling too desperate and he’s taking too long. So within a mere few seconds, you’re reaching for him again. It has him thinking maybe you’re trying to tell him the same thing. But there was no need to do that. Jeno had made it abundantly clear that he was yours. 

There was still a lingering frustration fuelling the two of you – mostly from you; it was jealousy for Jeno. He is jealous that someone else – another man – had gotten to spend the night at the party with you. He needed you to know that he hated to see you with him, and that this – this was never going to be better with anyone else. 

No matter how hard a man would try, they could never know you the way that he did. They could never make you feel the way he did. 

Ridiculously, you want to apologise despite him reading the situation all wrong. You hadn’t been flirting with anyone else, and you thought it didn’t matter who you chose to simply talk to. You never knew he’d feel this threatened. Never suspected it would upset him this much. 

You proposed the idea of keeping things casual to not get hurt. Jeno was unbelievably attractive and could have his pick of any woman. You thought keeping him at arm's length would protect you—figures it’s only hurting him. 

Regardless, no matter the context there was no denying that he was being a jealous ass tonight and the two of you had argued. An argument that you were both getting very turned on by and had you conflicted between getting down on your knees for him or letting him fuck you against the wall, outside and all. 

You always found great thrill in surprising him: breaking from the feverish kisses, you reach up under your dress and yank down your underwear. The delicate fabric falls around your ankles, and you kick them off to the side, inviting him to what he so clearly wanted.

I’m yours right here, right now, your eyes tell him.

And you really thought you had won at the whole surprising thing, until he hooks your legs around his waist and presses his hips harder against you. You never pegged yourself or Jeno for being an exhibitionist but something about him taking you against the wall of the very same bar he thought a man was flirting with you at, awakens something feral inside him. 

All of a sudden the wall seemed like the perfect spot for make up sex. Honestly, Jeno just wanted any sex. As long as it was with you. 

He exhales heavily when he starts to ease his pants down and you fumble to undo his shirt buttons. But you get far too distracted by his lips beginning to trail down your throat. He reaches for your thigh, smoothing up your soft skin, as he hitches up your dress around your hips. 

You’re so desperate for him you can’t help but whimper. And just when you think ‘Yes, finally,’ a cocky grin spreads across his face as his finger slips effortlessly (and too goddamn slowly) over your centre. His teasing is somewhat annoying, but it’s so hard to be pissed at him when he’s touching you like that. Hell, it’s hard to be mad at him in general—you’re weak to him and that’s exactly why you’re pushed up against a wall. 

Jeno picks up his pace as soon as he begins stroking you with another finger. You squirm against the wall and he watches that hungry expression grow as he rubs you rhythmically, fingers sliding up and down, up and down, so easily from how wet you are. Pride swells in his chest because he did that. 

Every moan that leaves your lips is his own little reward, one that he is dying to receive more, and more, and more of. Forever. 

Jeno knows you’re close. It would’ve been easy to get you off right there, and he would’ve, had he not abruptly pulled away from you. You curse under your breath at the loss of contact. 

“Jeno!” 

He smirks, loving the way you squirm as he nudges your legs further apart. His breath is hot against your skin as he murmurs, “Got to tell me what you want, baby.” 

You groan frustratingly, since apparently he wasn’t going to give it to you unless you said something. “I want you, now. Just need you inside me.”  

He smirks, the grip he had on your thighs tightening and the muscles in his arms flexing beneath his shirt. He shifts his hips, pushing the crown of his cock against your entrance — slowly, sensually, tormentingly. 

You lean into him, nails digging into the fabric on his back as he presses his forehead against your neck, soft hisses escaping him as he feels you — wet and tight. 

“This pussy was fucking made for me,” he growls, cock buried to the hilt. He could stay there forever, selfishly he wants to, but he can hear your whimpers and the need to please you becomes priority. 

He bottoms out and then his hips are snapping forward hard, fast, possessive. Whatever words you wanted to say dissolves into a senseless moan. His thrusts become more erratic and needy and the pace has you clenching down around him. Fuck. 

Jeno stills. His breath ghosts over your collarbones and his fingers dig even further into your hips. You know that look, he’s struggling to keep himself under control, which, given the circumstances is the last fucking thing you want. 

“Not gonna last long if you keep doing that baby.” 

He’s trying to reason with you, but before you really have time to think about what you’re doing you’re clawing at his back, tightening your legs around and digging the heels of your shoes into his back hard enough that he growls, low and frightening in a way that makes your spine tingle. 

“Fuck,” he grits out thrusting into you hard. The sound of skin hitting skin is loud and vulgar in the middle of the street, but you don’t care and can’t care because fuck, all you can think about is how it feels as he rocks into you, again and again and again. 

“Jeno,” you gasp out, grip digging into his shoulders as he fucks you, ruthless and unforgiving. 

He’s relishing in it, you can tell by the way he’s looking at you that he’s trying to fucking burn the sight into his brain forever, the sounds you’re making and the way you shiver in his arms and the sheer force of it all. He groans and when he kisses you again it’s nearly violent, a clash of lips and tongues and teeth. 

“All mine,” he groans against your mouth. He hisses as you bite at his bottom lip, retaliating with a growl and driving his hips into yours with a newfound ruthlessness. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“Oh—fuck please,” you gasp out, breaths coming out in little huffs in time with the movement of his body. 

“Not what I asked,” he lowers his voice, serious. His pace slows down and it has you squirming and crying out.

“Fuck yes—yours Jeno. Always been yours. Just please don’t stop—” 

Jeno groans and kisses your neck. He picks up his pace again. The same low tone in his voice as he promises, “I’m all yours too.” 

You swear those three simple words were the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Your walls flutter around him and you don’t miss the prideful grin on his face as his hand moves down from your hip and his thumb presses against your clit.

His fingers move hurriedly and the pleasure is suddenly blinding and white and fuck fuck—

“Jeno yes just like that I’m gonna—”

“Good fucking girl,” he chokes out, your orgasm shaking him to his core, making his thrusts half-desperate. 

His rhythm falters and his own breath catches. He digs his fingers into your hip hard enough that it makes you hiss and then he falters and slows and gives one, two, three more thrusts before pinning you harder with a shaky, breathless sigh.

The two of you stay like that for a beat before he lowers you back to the ground, pulling down your dress. Then slowly, he brings his fingers to his lips and licks, tasting you with a roll of his eyes. 

“I mean it, you know,” He quietly says. “I’m all yours.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into a revering kiss, and you tell him the exact same thing back. 

[taegimood]

— nudes?! (c.sb) ♡

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader genre: best friends to ?, non-idol au, suggestive rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1k warnings: mention/description of reader’s nudes, brief mention of a blowjob, implication of sexy time at the end, soob has a boner, everyone’s horny synopsis: what happens when your best friend who secretly has the hots for you accidentally sees your nudes?

requested forever ago by @mapofthemazeinthemirror <3 [blog status: semi-hiatus, requests closed]

| yeonjun ver. | beomgyu ver. | taehyun ver. | kai ver. |

masterlist

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soobin is an honest guy, but he'd have to admit that he's been lying to himself a little when it comes to you.

you, his pretty best friend who he's always been able to tell nearly everything to — everything except for the naughty stuff, the kinks and the turn-ons that he keeps firmly clutched to his chest every time you try to teasingly weasel one out of him.

he has no idea how you can be so casual about that stuff with him, tossing out a joke about the last blowjob you gave while he sits red as a tomato at the mere thought, and as a result he's left with the burning question:

why is it only you that makes me feel this way?

but there's no time to think about that right now as he sits on the edge of your bed, waiting expectantly while you pull your phone out of your back pocket.

one of the things you and soobin had first bonded over was your mutual love for anime, so when you’d told him recently that you want to try cosplaying for the first time at this year's comic con, he readily agreed to be the beta viewer for your costume;

you had already taken the test pictures of yourself as yor from spy x family (merely hearing which character it was had him swallowing hard to begin with) and you're ready to sit down and show him when suddenly the stove timer beeps from the kitchen.

"ah right, the ramen. here - you can just look through them all. let me know what you think i should change!"

"alright," he calls after you as you hand him your phone and skip off to the kitchen.

his heart thumps in his chest the second he sees you in costume, scrolling slowly through the pictures you took, fingers hovering over the screen with the guilty temptation of zooming in a little on your peeking cleavage — shaking his head to himself as if to clear the thought away before scrolling on to the next.

but his brows raise subconsciously the longer he swipes as your poses seem to grow more and more.. he gulps.. provocative....

soobin freezes.

he blinks. once, twice- three times-

"f-fuck."

he stares wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the sight in front of him, a sight he never thought he'd ever get to see, his mind going blank as all of his blood rushes immediately straight down to his cock.

your body,

your naked body,

displayed on the screen in his hands.

you had removed the dress with nothing underneath, still clad in the thigh-high leather heels and golden headpiece, his eyes wandering hungrily over your figure despite every moral warning bell in his head telling him to quickly scroll away.

but instead he swipes to the next one, and your tits- god, your tits- he has to stop himself from groaning as the next picture has you leaning forwards, breasts pushed together deliciously as your tongue sneaks out to trace the fake golden dagger in your hand, and soobin's head is reeling.

he shouldn't be looking at his best friend this way, at these pictures that he clearly wasn't meant to see, he knows it, but.. soobin has obviously been lying to himself for more than a little too long as he swipes and swipes, dizzy as he reaches the end and finally forces himself to turn your phone off, gaze trailing down to the rock-hard bulge in his pants.

he doesn't even have time to wonder how to hide it or what he should do when you come back before he's suddenly jumping out of his skin at the sound of your panicked voice as you rush down the hallway, yelling,

"WAIT! SOOBIN, WAIT!"

he's like a deer caught in headlights as you burst back into your room, quickly coming to the accurate conclusion of what happened as he stares up at you with wide, panicked, guilty eyes, posture stiff and face redder than you've ever seen it before.

even if he were to try sputtering through a poorly executed excuse, he can’t; soobin is speechless.

"um....... okay. so, i.. forgot.. that those were in there."

and as if the fact that you're speaking to him suddenly gears his brain back into motion, soobin's mouth becomes a motor as words fly out of it faster than you even have the chance to answer them.

"i-i’m so sorry, oh my god, i shouldn't have looked! i mean- i- ok, fuck i-i looked, i'm so sorry i swear i'll just forget this ever happened and never talk about it again a-and i'm not a pervert i promise and you can even hit me if you want and- uh, w-wait that's not what i mea-"

"soobin."

soobin shuts up.

he swears that you must be able to hear his heart banging against his ribage as his hands grip the material of his sweatpants, leg bouncing nervously, and he swears he's about to explode or cry or both when your eyes trail down to the impossibly large boner that he forgot to try covering.

(he would have failed anyway).

"soobin..."

his eyes snap back up to yours. something in your tone has shifted and he's not sure what, but...

he inhales shakily as you step closer. the look on your face has his cock throbbing in his pants.

"soobin, do you want me to put the costume on?"

"w...w-what?"

you're so close that if you were to take one more step, you'd be standing right between his legs;

"i can put the costume on for you... and then, if you want..."

you lean in close to his ear.

"i'll let you take it off."

soobin is certain in this moment that he must have saved a nation in his past life to be sitting in this situation right now, as the strangled little moan that accidentally escapes past his lips causes your own to curl up into a smile —

it seems to you that you won't have to pine secretly over your best friend any longer as his hand tentatively comes up to caress your hip, and he breathes,

"yes, please."

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— taglist: @razsberrie, @saejinniestar, @hyukalyptus, @florestalio, @beomiracles, @kiss4baku, @kejingken

if you want to be added to my taglist and get notified whenever i post any writing, drop a comment or an ask and let me know! ♡

[coffeecatcraze]

I would just like to say how hard it hits me in the chest to see Charlie masking every time she's onscreen the day before the fight (including what we see on Vox's spy screens of course), except when no one is with her but Vaggie. Even during her emotional speech she tries so damn hard to keep that confidence up and smile on. But we do see her stop masking twice, when the only person watching her is Vaggie.

First:

No one's really paying attention to her, and she's not smiling; she's worried. When Vaggie approaches her, she doesn't put on a happy face. She talks about her mom with the same smile as in the first episode (during a very emotionally vulnerable moment with Vaggie, might I add). It's not happy or confident. It's nostalgic, wistful, and sad, because her mom's absence is something very personal and painful for her. When Vaggie asks if they're ready, Charlie doesn't instantly start to smile or answer with confidence even though she usually would (even within that short beat of time), because her mask is off. She's not confident or optimistic. She's scared. She's not ready.

Then Pentious comes out and she's all smiles again! The mask comes back on when someone other than Vaggie is there.

Second:

Of course, one of our favorite scenes. Charlie's alone when she breaks down, but when Vaggie shows up, she keeps the mask off. She admits how scared she is. When she does smile, it's not the big smile she's been throwing on throughout the day, and it's not strained either. It's soft, gentle, and real. She's not masking. Vaggie is genuinely making her feel better when she's finally letting herself fall apart, just by being there and reminding her that no matter what happens, she's already accomplished so much, and she's so loved.

Charlie is under a lot of stress and pressure. She's scared. She's not as optimistic as she's making herself out to be. She's giving everything she's got out there being a strong, confident, inspirational leader and friend in front of everyone, and it's only with Vaggie that she lets it go. She doesn't have to try to be strong. She doesn't pretend. She lets down her guard, because for her, Vaggie is that one infinitely special person who gets to see every part of her; the one person she can always be her honest self with.

There were plenty of times in other episodes when Charlie didn't mask her negative emotions around people, but that was when she didn't have anyone looking to her as a leader. She's running on adrenaline and the weight of people's expectations as Extermination Day gets closer, and she can't let the mask she's put on slip in public. She has to seem like she's totally ready for what's coming. But Vaggie is different.

The amount of trust and love Charlie has for her is staggering. She's under an insane amount of stress and pressure, and having Vaggie by her side is probably the only thing keeping her from completely falling to pieces. Seeing a relationship so full of deep trust and love is absolutely beautiful. <3

[nataliasquote]

Is It All For Nothing? | n romanoff

Summary: You just want a friend. Is that so bad? How is it fair that everyone else gets one but you. What did you do that was so wrong?

Warnings: idk. just depressing stuff ig

Pairings: none. a small bit of Nat x reader but all platonic

wc: 1.3k

notes: I wrote this in 45 mins in one sitting. It’s written in a different pov than usual and idk if it even makes sense. I just typed and didn’t stop until I was done 🤷‍♀️ the idea just came to me and yeah :)

-⧗-

Frankly, being on the sidelines sucked. Everyone knew it yet no matter how many times someone engaged in small talk to be polite or proclaimed they were there to talk to everyone, somehow you were always left out.

It didn’t matter where you were, loneliness followed like a dormant disease. High school sucked, you were a nobody, but thankfully those years were in the past. But your fifteen year old self didn’t realise that your isolation would carry right on over into your adult life.

And sure, it wasn’t all bad. The nights spent chatting with new friends you’d made that day left you on an all time high, but that just made the fall that much harder. And when the low inevitably came, you could only laugh at yourself at your naivety, because why would things suddenly change? You weren’t someone people stuck around for.

Unfortunately, Shield agents were no different. Those in your cohort were nice enough to say hi in the hallway or invite you into group conversations. A couple even chatted with you over lunch. But you knew they only did it because they felt bad. You saw the difference in their demeanor; you were a spy for god’s sake. They were so much happier with their friends, and that didn’t include you, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself it did.

There was one agent who’s attention toyed with you that little bit more. Natasha Romanoff was a couple of ranks higher, both in social and training status. But she was always kind, no matter what. You conversed whilst waiting for your training session, mainly her listening as you talked. She was sweet, despite her intimidating facade and before long she had you completely wrapped around your little finger.

For a month, you both chatted any chance you got. If you saw her in the cafeteria, you’d make a beeline for her table, smiling at the other agents as you sat down. She responded to you, her eyes holding yours as you spoke, seeming actually interested in what you had to say. She would joke with you, calling you out with a laugh which sent a flush to your cheeks. You didn’t care what she said, she was talking to you. That’s all that mattered. Maybe this was where your life changed for the better. Evenings that followed those days would be blissful and you would fall asleep with a smile on your face, feeling on top of the world all because of the redheaded Russian.

However, as the weeks went on, days would go by with no contact. At first you just thought she was going on more missions; that was her job after all. But then you’d see that flash of red hair in a meeting room or one of the agents talking about something Natasha had said earlier and it hit you sharply in the throat.

Was she just like everyone else? Playing the pity card, building you up only to leave you hanging once she got bored? Natasha didn’t seem like that kind of person, but had essentially placed her on a pedestal, so of course she could do no wrong. That was your downfall.

Emerging from a debrief with Maria Hill, you tucked a stack of files under your arm and stepped out into the hallway. And there she was, a soft smile on her lips. You reciprocated it and made eye contact, opening your mouth to speak. You hadn't spoken in a few days and you hated to admit it, but you missed her.

But Natasha clearly didn’t feel the same. Her eyes caught yours and then darted to the floor, her feet picking up the pace as she walked past. “I’m sorry Y/n, I’m busy today. We’ll talk later.”

Except she wasn’t busy. Because there she was, standing at the end of the hall laughing with another agent in your cohort. It shouldn’t have been, but it was like a punch to the stomach and you quickly turned around, retreating back into the room you’d left to avoid her seeing you watching her.

You knew that agent. They were friends, everyone saw it. And she was nice enough to you too, but jealousy coursed through your veins and turned you into a green eyed monster.

What did she have that you didn’t? Besides the ability to win Natasha over, obviously. Every single interaction you’d had with the redhead suddenly started replaying in your mind, frantically scanning to see what went wrong. Did you overstep? Were you too pushy? Too clingy? You just wanted a friend, was that so hard to understand? Was it so bad to want?

You thought about texting her, but decided against it. You didn’t want to know the answer. What if your worst fears were confirmed? That she only spoke to you out of pity, and quite frankly didn’t want anything to do with you.

It hurt. It really did. Countless times you wished that she was the one that would change your bad history of making friends. Because when you were around Natasha, nothing else mattered. The days of no contact slipped out of your mind. You’d forgive her for anything in a heartbeat… maybe that was the problem.

You thought the world of her. And she saw that. ‘Never meet your heroes’ that’s what they say, isn’t it? And maybe she wasn’t quite at hero status for you, but you looked up to her. Praising her work when she returned from a successful mission, commenting on the ingenious moves she made to lead her team to victory. She was everything you wanted to be as an agent, with one seriously important factor.

Everyone loved her.

Everyone loved her, and nobody knew you. She was the prize rose and you were behind, stuck in her shadow. They didn’t see you as anyone but the agent who sucked up to Natasha. They didn’t see how hard you worked, how many hours you trained, how much effort you put in. And they never would. Because it was too much. You were a try hard.

A try hard in a room full of effortless people.

Effortless just like that other agent was. She’d been rumoured to move up into Natasha’s ranks and onto her mission team, leaving you struggling in the lower levels. It felt almost childish, yearning after the attention of one single person. But no matter how hard you tried, or how casual you tried to be, Natasha would never see you as anything other than a fan girl.

You knew she was capable of giving you what you desired, you saw it with that other agent. The way they laughed together, developed inside jokes and anecdotal phrases that they brought up in group discussions. You saw the way Natasha’s eyes lit up at the mention of her name, how she gushed over her but also teased her at the same time. Their effortless banter had you choking back tears as you sat one table over, watching with blurry eyes.

You wanted that so badly it hurt.

But if you stopped trying, stopped reaching out, stopped lusting after the perfect friendship you so badly craved with her, would she notice? Or would you fade into the background, silently, without a word. Maybe she would be happy, now that you’re no longer bugging her.

Maybe it’s for the best.

[hgfictionwriter]

Maybe This Time - Part Three

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie and you finally get some 1:1 time together (thanks Janine!). You work to build new memories together, but hurt from the past needs to be addressed.

Warnings: None. Temporary, very light angst, but mostly sweet fluff.

A/N: Part two and one.

"What do you think? Should I go for it?" 

Jessie smirked as she saw the screenshot you sent her of her jersey in the Thorns' site shopping cart. 

"I don't know. I thought you said that was too big a commitment." 

"I did. But I was rather impressed at the last game. And we went for drinks after, I finally got to meet Janine – so you know, points for that. And if I think about it, I'm like an OG fan. But if you think I should get a different jersey..." 

Jessie laughed under her breath, her smirk now a full blown smile as she read your message while she ate lunch. The conversation she'd been on the periphery of carried on as she ate another bite before typing out a reply. 

"Oh yeah? Post-game drinks were a hit, huh? And you know, my stats are only getting better with each game 😉 And let's be honest, I'd be pretty offended if you got someone else's jersey. Except Sinc's. Because, you know, GOAT." 

"Oh, well, say no more. You had me at 'stats' lol. Done. I'll pick it up before next game." 

"Lol I figured. My plan all along – I know how much you love stats." 

"You know me so well. I have to say, I'm kind of tempted to modify the jersey. Add some sort of patch or stitching, 'Yay sports!'" 

Jessie laughed out loud, less discrete than before.  

"Don't you dare lol. I've taught you better than that. But hey, if you ask nicely, I could actually sign it for you 😎" 

"I'm sure I have an old group paper kicking around with your signature on it. I need to be able to wash this thing lol. What else can you offer though?" 

Jessie swallowed her food hard, the bite getting caught temporarily in her throat with a wince. Okay, no signature – how humbling. However, there was an opening. 

She stared at her phone temporarily before a loud clearing of someone's throat caught her attention. She lifted her gaze with a curious frown on her face to see Janine staring expectantly at her. Jessie instinctively tilted the phone inwards towards her body. 

"I don't even have to spy to know who you're texting," the blonde said rather self-satisfied. Jessie looked around, heat building in her face already as she hoped Janine was the only one focused on her.  

"Yeah?" Jessie retorted, attempting to appear as unfazed as possible. "You should be pleased. You keep pushing me to text her." She cracked a smirk. "Now that you don't think she's the devil incarnate for 'stringing me along' in university." 

"Oh I don't think you need to be pushed," Janine teased with a wicked grin. "And I never said she was the devil incarnate." She lifted a hand to her chest in exaggeration. "I merely questioned things. But you're right," she relented, "she's quite lovely. And she gives you butterflies, and she makes you blush - more than usual - and you try to act all nonchalant and it's just too adorable for words." 

"Uh huh," Jessie muttered with a flat look. Janine leaned in excitedly. 

"And I have to say, I got the sense that she and I could riff off of each other and just tease the heck out of you, so that really sealed the deal for me." 

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, that's exactly what I need in my life." She'd never admit that it actually excited her that her best friend and you could get along so well. If – and it was a huge 'if' - anything evolved between you two, it was key that you got along with her friends and family.  

She started thinking about how well you got on with her parents and sister – you'd met before during your days at UCLA and they loved you. She also remembered how disappointed they'd seemed when she eventually told them that you two didn't speak anymore.  

"Well, since you're so invested," Jessie went on, rolling her eyes facetiously once more as she opened her phone again and turned it to Janine, "what should I say?" 

Janine squinted as she leaned in to read and it only took a moment for her expression to light up. Before Janine could say anything, Jessie snatched the phone back and placed it on her lap with a frown.  

"I don't want to hear it," she pre-empted the girl. 

"What?" Janine said innocently with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I am totally supportive of the flirtation between you two." She ignored Jessie's look of complaint and cut off her protest. "Her shutting down your autograph is pretty hilarious, by the way," she said with a marginally apologetic look. "Not smooth on your part – you know she's not impressed by your elite football skills. Don't lean on your Jessie the Footballer identity." 

"I wasn't," Jessie nearly hissed, trying to keep her voice down and avoid drawing attention. "I was joking. Half joking." 

"You were flirting, or at least attempting to. She left you an opening here though. So, you should ask her out." 

"I'm not asking her out," Jessie pouted, her shoulders rounding as she scooched closer to the table. She huffed upon seeing the scrutinizing look her friend gave her. "We're still getting to know each other again." 

"Fine. Don't define it as a date, then," Janine dismissed with a wave. She leaned in, folding her arms on the table. "Ask her to go for dinner." 

"Basic," Jessie remarked as she sat up and crossed her arms in disapproval. She frowned. "Plus that's too date-like." 

"Fine," Janine said curtly. "How about a hike?" 

Jessie hummed and hawed, unconvinced. "Maybe someday. Doesn't seem right at this point though." Janine rolled her eyes in exasperation.  

"Well, what did you two used to do back at UCLA?" 

Jessie shrugged. She saw the frustration Janine was telegraphing at how unhelpful she was being and jumped in. "We went to drop-in art classes sometimes." 

Janine held a hand up to the sky. "Thank you. Finally – something I can work with. Okay! Let's find a drop-in class for you two to go to then." She pulled out her phone and started browsing before shooting a look at Jessie as an aside. "Oh, and dinner's too date-llke, but an art class isn't? Okay." 

Jessie grunted and pulled out her phone as well to look.  

"Here," Jessie announced after a couple of minutes. "This'll work. She enjoyed painting." 

Without further consultation, Jessie began to type out a message to you. She bit back a laugh at how Janine's head was bobbing around periodically trying to peek at the message from across the table.  

"Don't send it yet! I want to see it," Janine pouted.  

"You are not writing my messages for me," Jessie told her pointedly, but gave a heavy sigh as she turned her phone for the blonde to see. An affronted look crossed Jessie face as Janine let out a guffaw and snatched the phone out of her hand.  

"No," Janine simply said with a wag of her finger before she started typing. Jessie reached out for the phone, but Janine turned her body away. Jessie clamored more, but stopped as soon as she noted some of their teammates glancing their way. She shrunk back into her seat, a hand rubbing the side of her face as she spoke in a harsh whisper.   "What are you doing." 

"Jeff. Relax. I would never lead you astray," Janine assured her. "And this is so very satisfying for me since I never got to help you with any of this during uni. Cause let me tell you, if I had been involved, you two definitely would've been living happily ever after." 

Jessie breathed in exasperation. "Please. Give me my phone back." 

"Okay, okay. Here," Janine said, all humour from her tone gone as she now offered Jessie a sincere smile. "Read it over, but I think this is good." 

Jessie gave her a lingering stare as she took back her phone and let out another withering sigh before reading.  

"Funny you should ask. I was thinking about how much I missed art classes together. How about I take you to one of the drop-in painting classes across town when I'm back from Houston?"  

Jessie lifted her gaze to meet Janine's and she studied the blonde for a few moments before relenting with an inaudible sigh. It was better than her original "I don't know. Paint class?" reply. She hit send and released another heavy breath as she tucked the phone away once more.  

"You're welcome," Janine said with a saccharine smile. Jessie gave her a fake smile in return, pulling a laugh out of the girl. "Hey, let's remember which one of us is engaged and which one of us is perpetually single." 

"Ouch," Jessie said with a light laugh.  

"I'm just teasing," Janine went on. "I genuinely hope this turns into something for you. Considering you've only come back into each other's lives, what, like a couple months ago? You two seem pretty solid already. And you seem happier." 

Jessie wanted to give a dry retort of some kind, but Janine was right. You two talked every day now and the chemistry you had in university was still very much present. And the depth you once had in your friendship was something that was quite easily and naturally being broached again. Even if you'd both grown and changed, the cores of who you were still aligned well and fit together. Too well. 

She'd more or less dismissed the spark of emotions that came up during your initial interactions as some sort of emotional muscle memory, but the feelings were proving to not be fleeting or diminishing.  

If anything, her feelings for you were growing. And this time they felt different, too. Heavier, deeper in some way. She was a more realized person now, as were you, and it made the connection between you more substantial. Less juvenile.  

Her phone buzzed. She opened her lock screen.  

"That sounds like a lot of fun! Let's do it." 

————

By the time your paint date night came around, Jessie was nearly buzzing with anticipation. It wasn’t an official date, of course, but she hadn’t seen you since that night after the game, and truthfully, it felt like it had been too long.

She was early - as usual - but as she rounded the corner to the building, she bit back a smile upon seeing you waiting. You were always early too, which she appreciated.

“Hey.” Jessie greeted as she approached. Again, she had to tamp her smile when you beamed back at her.

“Hey, good to see you,” you said as you stepped in for a hug, which Jessie reciprocated. “I love your shirt,” you continued when you stepped back.

“Oh,” Jessie said with a slight frown and a mild laugh as she looked down at herself in question. “Thanks,” she said as she gave a shrug and fought off a blush. She looked you up and down, not entirely discretely. “I like your outfit.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately and gave her a look. “You don’t need to reciprocate my compliment. But thank you.”

“I legitimately like your outfit,” Jessie retorted, her pitch rising and pulling a laugh out of you as you both walked towards the building. Jessie took a few quick steps and grabbed the door, holding it open. “After you.”

“Such service. Thank you,” you said, both teasing and appreciative. Jessie didn’t wink, but she did give a teasing lift of her eyebrows as you passed.

As the instructor gave their directions for the lesson, Jessie found herself distracted, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. The whole lesson carried on like that, really. Jessie had to make a point to not fall behind as she’d uncharacteristically lose concentration. The worst, well, best, moments being when she'd lean over feigning critical assessment of your work when really she just wanted to be close.

By the end, she was decently satisfied with the forest landscape she’d painted. However, she felt it paled in comparison to the ocean sunset you’d crafted.

“I love your colours. And the little cabin you added is great,” you told her as you were both leaving, canvases in hand.

“Well good,” she said as she got to a clearing on the sidewalk and stopped to turn to you. “Consider it my gift to you,” she went on as she held it out to you.

“Jessie,” you said sweetly with a smile as you took it and looked it over more thoroughly. “That’s really sweet. Thank you. It’s beautiful. And bonus - I get my Jessie Fleming signature, but on a far rarer painting as opposed to a jersey,” you laughed. “And what a coincidence. I painted this for you.”

Jessie looked at you for a moment before a smile broke out across her face as she belatedly took the painting you held out.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she studied the image. She frowned in realization as she lifted her eyes to you. “Is this the same beach from our photo?”

You nodded. “It is. Nice eye.”

“Who knew you were so sentimental?” Jessie teased.

“Apparently not you,” you replied with a roll of your eyes, but gave a small laugh. “Come on. It’s been a while, but you know me better than that.”

Jessie was quiet for a moment as she took you in. She eventually nodded. “I know.”

A small lull fell over you both before you asked. “So, what now? Do you have to leave?”

“No.” Jessie spoke quickly with a shake of her head. “I don’t have anywhere to be. How about you?”

You shook your head in return. “Same. Well, it’s beautiful out tonight. Want to just go for a walk? We can drop these off at my car first,” you proposed as you held up the painting.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

After a short detour, you both began your stroll along the quiet, tree-lined street.

“Thanks for suggesting that class,” you said. “I don’t really get to paint or pursue creative hobbies as much anymore. It was nice to make a point of it. I can’t imagine you have much of an opportunity to focus on things like that anymore, hm?”

Jessie sighed quietly in contemplation and gave a shrug.

“Not extensively, no. But we do lots of team building, so sometimes we’ll do artsy things. And I can do hobbies and such in my down time, whether during the week or between seasons.”

She looked over to see you giving her a soft smile.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing really. Just kind of crazy how everything turned out. You’ve achieved so much and your life is so impressive.”

Jessie was about to interject with a compliment for you, but you carried on.

“Are you happy with how things turned out?” You asked with a slight cock of your head.

“I-um, yeah.” Jessie stammered slightly, caught off guard by your question. “I mean, yeah it’s been incredible. More amazing than I could’ve ever pictured. And I know I’m very lucky.”

“You’re not lucky, Jess. You’ve worked exceptionally hard.”

She huffed lightly. “Yes, but luck is involved too. Lots of people work hard and still don’t get half the opportunities I’ve had.”

“I suppose,” you relented. “But you’ve made the most of those opportunities and haven’t taken them for granted.”

“That’s true. But look at you. You’ve worked so hard. And I know what you’ve been up against, but you’ve risen above and built a great life for yourself,” Jessie emphasized.

“Thank you,” you accepted with a half smile. Jessie knew the ins and outs of your family dynamics - something few people truly knew. You smiled more fully at her. “And look at us now. We both left LA and then found ourselves in the same city again and got to reconnect,” you finished with a laugh. "It sounds strange, but it really feels like in some ways like no time has passed. Not really, anyway. Like you and I were able to pick up where we left off."

You let out a quick sigh, giving a deep shrug as you did so. Your eyes remained trained on the ground as you two walked. "I mean, we talked the other week about my family and it just felt so different. Like, I've told recent friends or girlfriends my history and everything, and they listen and they 'get it', but it's not the same. That conversation with you – via text, no less – had more depth and weight than any comparable conversation with my exes or current friends. You were there. You know it – and me, I guess - inside and out. And even if I retell things, it's just not the same." 

Jessie nodded, watching you. It did feel like yesterday when she was sitting next to you on your bed, sobs wracking your body after one confrontation too many with your family. Normally, Jessie was so analytical and tentative about her physical contact with you, but the second you started crying she put her arms around you without hesitation and you leaned in, resting your head on your shoulder as she held you. That was the first time, but it wasn't the last.  

Looking back on it, maybe your girlfriends did have good reason to dislike her. 

"I know what you mean," she told you. "It's different. I mean, it's the same with you in a lot of ways. You were there for me during some critical points – big decisions in my life and you understood who I was and who I wanted to be." 

You smiled at her fondly. You looked ready to say something and Jessie waited. A moment passed and you exhaled, saying, "It really meant a lot – having you in my life and the support you gave me back then. I hope you know that." 

"I know," Jessie accepted with a smile of her own. "And likewise." 

Her mind drifted. She should probably just leave things be, but not speaking her mind is what held her back all those years before. She needed to share her thoughts and feelings if things were going to be different this time. She took a breath.  

"You know, I was really shocked when we saw each other here." She paused briefly. "I don't know. We hadn't talked in so long. I think I'd relegated myself to assuming we'd never see each other or ever talk again. Despite how important we were to one another at some point." 

Her statement seemed to give you pause, the mild surprise evident on your face. You eventually glanced down at the street as you two continued to walk. 

"Yeah. That's true, I guess," you conceded, your voice soft. 

Jessie studied you, unsatisfied with the response you gave. She pushed.  

"I knew we wouldn't be able to stay as close as we were. That was inevitable with us living so far away from one another, but I don't think I expected contact to fall apart as quickly as it did." You didn't reply right away and she went on with an ironic laugh. "We went from talking all day every day, to a few times a week with a video call scattered in there, to the odd message every couple of weeks, then just texts on birthdays and at Christmas, to nothing at all." 

She wasn't sure what she was anticipating, but she didn't expect you to turn to her with a perplexed frown.  

"Yeah. It did taper off pretty quickly."  

Despite the time that'd passed, Jessie still knew when you were telling half-truths. She gave a bit of an empty chuckle. "What else are you thinking?" 

You returned her laugh with a mild look. "I don’t know. I'm just kind of confused, I suppose." Jessie frowned.  

"About what?" She questioned. Faint alarm bells went off in her head when you stopped walking. She stilled her movements as well and you turned to one another on the sidewalk.  

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. You spoke with a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. 

"I know it was me who stopped replying right away to messages – I don't deny that – but you weren't exactly giving me a lot to work with." You took a breath, dropping your shoulders before you spoke further. "Honestly? It was kind of feeling one-sided. Yeah, you replied, but a lot of your replies were brief and noncommittal. And when I asked if everything was okay you just told me you were busy. Which," you let out a slightly rueful laugh, "is absolutely fair. You were building this brand new, big life. Which is exactly what you were supposed to do. I don't begrudge you at all. I don’t know." You shrugged and averted your gaze momentarily. "I guess things just started to feel off." 

Jessie exhaled quietly as she processed your reply. What you were saying wasn't false. It had been so long it was easy for Jessie to just recall the end result – that you'd stopped replying altogether. That you'd given up on her; on the connection you'd both built for years. 

Standing here now though, if she was honest with herself, it was true that Jessie grew distant in her messages - purposefully so - knowing it would drive you away. What was she supposed to do? You two were never going to be together. And being friends was so incredibly hard sometimes because it was never just friendship for her. There was always this bittersweet feeling to everything and now that you were on completely different paths, there was an inevitable conclusion. Yet, she struggled to cut herself off cold. So instead, she took the coward's way out.  

Jessie scratched the back of her head. "I was busy," she repeated. She contemplated doubling down, but thought better of it. "And I guess I was finding it hard. We were building two very different lives." 

There was so much more she wanted to say, but she couldn't. What would be the point? Her chest panged when you gave her a sad smile.  

"I know," you accepted with a sadness in your eyes. "And I really wanted that for you. I just - it was hard to not feel like a nuisance. Like some obligation. So I just stopped writing."

Jessie's frown deepened. She knew all those years ago that she had to be hurting you, but she could lie to herself about it and focus selfishly on herself. Seeing you talk about it in front of her wasn't something she'd anticipated.

"I didn't mean for that," Jessie said. "And I never stopped caring about you," she compromised. 

"Yeah. I never stopped caring about you, either," you reciprocated in a subdued manner. Despite her role in everything, Jessie was still harbouring hurt from all those years prior and she felt compelled to push on. Sure, she'd pushed you away, but you'd let her. She erased you from her life little by little, day by day and you allowed it.

"Funny how quickly things change sometimes," Jessie went on. She didn't mean to scoff, but she did. "You didn't even tell me when you and [y/ex] broke up. You didn't even tell me you were having problems."  

In years past, Jessie was your sounding board for all your girl troubles. She remembered it well – it was painful. Having to hear you either swoon or – more often – complain about your girlfriends. Hearing how they disappointed or frustrated you when Jessie knew she could love you better. Just thinking back to it stoked a fire in Jessie's chest again. While she had genuinely loved you and cared about your well-being, she'd vowed to never get stuck in that dynamic again.  

You cracked a smirk. "It just seemed frivolous to bother you with something like that at that point." 

Another pang in Jessie's chest. "Well," she kicked idly at the concrete beneath her, "I would've been there for you if you ever needed me. I hope you knew that." 

You sighed and gave a hollow laugh as you pushed your hair back, causing Jessie to get momentarily distracted by the way the rays from the street light hit your face.  

"I know," you said quietly before meeting her gaze. "And I hope you knew the same about me. I know you're surrounded by people who love you, but," you shrugged listlessly, "I'd be there for you, too." 

Before Jessie could respond you gave her another smirk. 

"Besides. Though you never said anything explicit, I know you didn't like her. And by the end I could see why, too. No point wasting any of our limited conversation talking about her." 

Jessie bit back a smirk, but knew her eyes betrayed her. "Well, I guess that's poetic. Your girlfriends never liked me and I never liked them." 

Despite the mounting tension in your conversation, you laughed and gave her a nod. Jessie didn't return your laugh though. She gave you a solemn look. 

"You always deserved better than them. I know some of them were just fine, some of them even good, but they didn't seem earnest enough and they didn't love you enough." 

You were taken aback by her sudden proclamation. You opened your mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words.  

Jessie never understood how they didn't worship the ground you walked on. She practically did, even if she didn't show it. While those girls showed they cared through superficial acts like a generic bouquet of flowers, Jessie listened. In many ways. It was obvious to Jessie that they didn't really get you – not the way she did. And if they were so in tune with you, then why was it her you came to when things were hard or you were scared or even hopeful. If she'd been your girlfriend, she would've given you everything you needed and more. They clearly didn't. 

You eventually gave a soft huff and offered Jessie a quiet smile. 

"You've always been very observant. And very thoughtful. I get it now. There's a reason I'm single now. I don't want to settle anymore," you told her. 

Jessie was quiet before giving a nod of acceptance.  

"I'm glad to hear that." 

You both started walking again, though neither of you spoke right away. There was still a heaviness in the air, but it felt different now; hopeful.  

"I'm sorry for how things ended," you said as she glanced over at Jessie as you two strolled through the quiet street. "You've always been really important to me – regardless of whether we were in contact or not. I don't want to say that I wish things had been different, because I really don't see the point in regretting anything, but I will say I'm very grateful that we've had this chance to reconnect and rebuild." You paused. "I've really missed you. I didn't realize how much." 

"I'm really sorry, too," Jessie said, a smile spreading across her face. "And I agree – we can't change the past, but I also appreciate the chance to be friends again. I've missed you, too." 

She swallowed as she contemplated whether to add more. The lull that naturally formed told her to forge ahead.

"And you were never a nuisance or an obligation. I'm really sorry it came across that way."

"Awww, Jessie," you said in a teasing voice, lifting your conversation up again. You paused your steps and Jessie stopped and turned to you in question. "Come on," you beckoned as you waved her over and brought out your phone. "We need a new photo together." 

Jessie didn't fight it. Instead, she smiled at you and walked over to stand next to you. You leaned into her and Jessie found her hand naturally gravitated to your waist. It rest there before Jessie could even realize it, but before she could fret, you looked back at her with a smile before facing forward again. 

You took the photo and immediately opened up your messages with Jessie to send it to her. Jessie belatedly realized her hand was still on you and she pulled it back, holding her hands behind her. 

"There," you announced. "Now we can start rebuilding our collection. Portland memories – not just UCLA anymore." 

Jessie laughed and held up her phone, pointing the camera at you. 

"No, come on," you whined immediately and she laughed further.  

"Hey, this is part of the deal," she countered. You huffed, but eventually smiled for her. "Just remember. This goes both ways. I get new photos of you, too." 

She found herself giving you a wink. "I'll allow it."  

A/N: Part Four is available here.

[captain-joongz]

so, here we are friends, at the end of the hard hours week! thank you so much for everyone that's participated, i love you all <3

now, here you have one last scenario as farewell!

HARD HOURS THOUGHTS

warnings: mafia au, unprotected sex, foursome, voyeurism, anal and vaginal fingering, double penetration, multiple orgasms, creampie, mouth fucking

i actually wasn't sure what to write for the last scenario. i agonised over it, trying to come up with what to write, and then it came to me. don't they look just so slick in that picture?

so i present to you spy woosanhwa who give you a little more than you bargained for when you got tasked with distracting them

you were often used as a distraction, after all you've been painstakingly trained to be the perfect honey trap - with your refined looks and sweet words, carefully chosen opinions designed to catch attention of rich old men and education in art and culture, everything you were was crafted to be a sweet sweet poison

growing up, you knew nothing else but the crime baron that you served and the tasks he threw to you so that he could steal and prosper off of others. you helped him blindside others, you got him information, and you lead his opposers into sure doom

but you've never had to deal with someone of their caliber

the moment the three men walked into the ballroom, you were aware that there was something different about them. these weren't the usual criminals or rich corrupt you were used to seeing, they had an aura of professionals, which confused you

so you were a little more than hesitant when it was signalled to you your job was to charm and distract the three men. they didn't seem like amateurs, quite the opposite - you immediately saw that your boss was being very naive trying to deal with them like he did with anyone else

you had a feeling they knew exactly what you were trying to do, but they still indulged you (and you would struggle to admit it, but it was exhilarating) and maybe you got a little charmed too, because despite seeing in their eyes they weren't falling for this cheap trick, you didn't alert your boss. on the contrary, you continued as if you were successful, because you wanted just a moment longer with them

the attraction at least seemed to be very much reciprocated, if the open flirting that went beyond your jobs was anything to go by. or the little slip of paper that only held an address and nothing more that somehow found it's way into your purse

honestly, you would have lied if you said you didn't know it would end up like this. you would lie if you said you didn't know what you were about to let them do when you discreetly whispered to your employer you had an opening to steal more information out of them, you would lie if you said that was the reason you followed after them

it wasn't. it was this - the feeling of Seonghwa's hands on your hips keeping you still, digging into your sides as San took you from behind, mercilessly, hard and quick, and Wooyoung watched excitedly while waiting for his turn

you came here because the whole evening you hoped you would end up with Wooyoung's fingers in your pussy, fucking San's cum slowly back in while Seonghwa lost his mind opening your tight rim for him so they could fuck you together.

everything seemed to be heading towards you being sandwiched between them, Hwa's pretty dick slowly slipping into your ass while Wooyoung moaned and grinded into your pussy, cock hard and swollen from watching you get fucked by his friends, and you wouldn't have it any other way. you weren't here for anything except for getting fucked silly by the three hottest men you've ever seen

they fucked you in tandem, Woo fucking in just as Hwa slid out, Hwa thrusting in hard just as Woo pulled out and you all moaned in a beautiful crazy symphony, the slaps of your wet sweaty bodies, of your slick, San's cum and lube all mixing together to aid the pleasure serving as a backdrop to your singing groans and whines

you felt like you were melting, your body bathed in sweat and reaching temperatures that felt dangerous for you, the heat off of their bodies driving you all higher, dizzier, hazier as you fucked each other mindlessly, and your mind was gone, wrapped in fog and laser-focused only on cumming and nothing more

you felt so full, you've never been stuffed like that before, never felt this much bliss before. you wanted to have this evening printed into your brain - the press of their cocks into your body, the way the combined juices dripped down your thighs, Hwa's possessive hands on your hips and Wooyoung's on your thighs, one hot mouth on your neck while other sucked on your tits, their moans vibrating through your body, San's eyes taking it all in as he got hard again until he couldn't take in anymore and tugged your mouth to his cock to fuck it

quickly after that the situation spiralled out of control, the rhythm of four bodies grinding and riding together, hips jerking into each other, a cock in your throat, a cock in your cunt, a cock in your ass, until your eyes were rolled back, unseeing, blind, deaf, mind empty except for the screaming ecstasy of an oncoming orgasm

when you crested that wave, it felt like fire consumed you from the inside, body shaking, clenching, twisting. there was bitter hot liquid streaming down your throat, someone biting your shoulder, a cacophony of moans, someone's nails biting into your skin until you were sure you'd be all bruised up but you couldn't care because you felt the cock in your cunt throbbing uncontrollably as Wooyoung came, the last set of hips barrelling into your ass in desperation before a hot splash of seed hit your skin

you felt like you were cumming through all that, their pleasure hightening yours and feeding into your mind-melting climax

you passed out practically immediately after, your spent body covered in layers upon layers of bodily fluids, bruised and tired in the best fucking way, and you couldn't even be bothered that tomorrow you'd get punished for not bringing any information back

and waking up in that same hotel room, in an empty bed, naked but clean and alone, only a phone number scribbled onto a napkin, you wondered if maybe you'd finally found your ticket out

and what a fucking ride they were

divider by @cafekitsune

[donovan-desmond-official]

I can't help but wonder jealous loid when?

Everyone thinks Loid would be jealous over Yor, but I think not; his relationship with her is a bit more tricky. Even though he loves Yor, a part of him still feels like he doesn't have her. Seeing her around other guys would evoke a sense of insecurity and make him distance himself from Yor. In his heart, he still doubts whether or not he is worthy of her loyalty and affection. He also just finds the possessive partner bit too tacky and cliché. Yor isn't going to cheat on him with the mailman; she might leave him for the mailman because at least the mailman didn't lie to her and pretend to be a made-up person while actively putting their entire family in danger.

But anybody else fuck yeah. Namely, his surrogate sister, adoptive daughter, his best friend, who is not really his friend because spies don't have friends, his brother in law who hates his guts - hell, even his boss. He hates to admit it, but he is very insecure and prone to fits of jealousy and possessiveness. How Yor alone managed to escape his madness is unknown (maybe he just knows if he pushes her too hard, she will kick him in the ribs).

Nightfall is like a baby sister to him. He is always flattered by the way she looks up to him. He's subconsciously very possessive of her. She's the only spy that can compare to him, so why would he let her go even for a second? Whenever Nightfall does a mission with someone else he gets all bent out of shape. When he sees her having a good productive conversation with someone at the hospital he goes into his office to sulk. He'll never just say it's because he cares about her and wants to spend time with her. He'll never just admit she's the second best spy in all of wise and it's an honour to work with her. No. Instead He'll pout like a baby.

Franky can never talk about his other clients with Loid. Once, he said he couldn't babysit because he had to work on something for another client, and Twilight was like "oh I see... so this other guy he's more important to you- no it's fine I just- nothing." He knows that Franky has other clients and jobs, but he always thought he was special and different, not like the other spies. He's Twilight for crying out loud, who would pick some low level nobody spy over thee Twilight. It's not because he thinks of Franky as his oldest friend and one of the few people who know his so intimately. It's not that he hates being reminded of the transactional aspect of their relationship and is too afraid to ask for more. It's just Franky not appreciating knowing thee greatest spy in all of westalis. Yeah- he's the problem, not Twilight.

Handler has already accepted that Twilight is a closed off man afraid of being honest and intimate, but he is also an ego maniac who needs to be praised every day or his will die. Will he ever admit that he does idolize Handler and think of her as a mentor and dear friend? Will he be honest about his worries for her health? Has having a daughter shifted the way he conceptualized her trauma and made him even more sympathetic to the woman? Does he hate being reminded that he's just another spy on her endless roster and that outside of his exceptional abilities she doesn't care about him even though she regularly shows interest in him beyond his espionage duties? No. Instead, he will fake gag whenever she mentions another agent like a brat.

But the worst of all, Anya.

And it's not like some creepy, possessive girl dad nonsense. Anya is his baby. She sees him at his most innocent and pure (well in his mind). Her love for him is raw and unaffected by his abilities. She loves him for him. She doesn't see the scared little beggar boy or the vengeful army man or the elusive spy; she just sees her papa and all the wonderful things he does for her. If Twilight had a saviour complex before now, it is in full drive. When he comes home and she hops out of the chair, toddling over to the front door to greet him with the brightest smile, it melts him completely. Not only does he love Anya, he loves being loved by her.

So when someone else is on the receiving end, her innocent yet boundless affection, it drives him insane. When she cuddles with Yor on the couch instead of him. When she runs and hugs Franky's leg. When she passes out on Bond. When she talks about how smart and cool Mr. Henderson is. When she shows off a gift she got from Becky. Damian. And let's not forget his life long beef with that bitch Bondman. Stealing all his swag.

Anya, of course, ignores the bastard. Before she would worry, he was going to take her back, but then she realized he was just afraid of losing her, so ain't no way she's going back to the orphanage.

So yes, Twilight is prone to fits of jealousy. But not for his wife- just everybody else.

[sufferingink]

the way that TMA has altered my brain chemistry is unreal so here's 911 characters and their fear alignments (without having watched past season four):

Buck: I don't think his would actually be The Lonely. while that's certainly part of it, I think too much of his fear comes from the idea that he's replaceable and filling too much space and needs to hide parts of himself to be loved and if that's not The Stranger, I'm not sure what is.

(I think you could probably make a case for all of them EXCEPT the corruption. when faced with a decomposing dead body he stabs it without gloves to manually drain fluids. when faced with a maggot that had crawled from somewhere I'd prefer not to think about, he goes "maggot :D!" he's kinda chill around killer bees apparently?? I've not gotten that far. but he's not afraid of bugs or sickness or anything so long as it doesn't keep him from his people. tldr: Buck loves bugs too much to be a corruption avatar)

Eddie: that's The Desolation babey. Is terrified of losing everything, so blows up his life before anyone else can. routinely loses things, relationships, people in a dramatic fashion, usually descending into guilt spirals that makes everything so much worse. has yet to end a relationship on even remotely good terms, I think it's fair to say they'd all be better to not have been with him at all

Bobby: I'm actually not too sure about this one but I'll go with The Eye. After the fire that killed his family he talks about how he should have known better, both in doing drugs and in the building's many safety violations. He's a fire captain that takes the injuries of his people very seriously because they happened under his watch and he should have kept a closer eye on them. he's got religious guilt. he even immediately gets sucked into spying on people "just in case" just like one Jonathan Sims circa Magnus Archives season 2

Maddie: The Hunt. do I need to explain this one? her abusive husband LITERALLY HUNTED HER through the woods. not to mention her relationship with her parents. The Hunt is also the fear that the people closest to you would turn on you, and I think trying to erase your brother from existence, leaving you (a ten year old) to raise your OTHER brother, then completely ABANDONING YOU when you get into previously mentioned abusive marriage qualifies as a betrayal, one that has broken her trust in others to help her (Buckley parents when I find you-)

Chim: The Lonely. his mother died when he was young, his father barely speaks to him, one of his brothers died BECAUSE OF HIM (in his mind anyway), he refuses to admit he thinks of his found family as more his family than his blood relatives till his late thirties, and I haven't got to where Tommy gets reintroduced, but Chim's origin episode I'm sorry but he's trying a LOT, TOO MUCH to become friends with someone that's been exclusively a jerk to him, he strikes me as a lonely guy

Athena: The Hunt as well, and I'm not just saying that because she's a cop! that's only part of it- but she's also a black woman working in a police department. she's aware of how easy it is for officers to get away with basically anything, even aware of exactly how unsafe her OWN family is, yet insists on staying and insists that there are more good cops than bad. you can't tell me she doesn't doubt that every single day, and what if they prove her wrong? (remember what I said about the fear of being turned on?)

Hen: I'm feeling The End, but less in a Death™ way and more of "there's nowhere to go from here." Hen prides herself on her ability to learn and grow so naturally that hard stop, you will be exactly as you are now forever, scares her. also people keep telling me she's the only one yet to get a major near death experience soooo

Ravi: Buck

[paninicupcakke]

Runway Traitor’s💣🔪

(Bomb voyage one shot + Engie & miss Pauling mentioned)

(Traitor! AU)

(CW: alcohol abuse / drunk driving)

Location: Applejack / abandoned storage building

📻🍷

Demoman bolted up the rickety stairs into the abandoned building’s attic. Hoping to find some temporary cover and more ammo. Instead, he found the enemy team’s Spy slacking off. He was sat on the floor with his back up against the wall. A small plug in fan, a portable radio and a stolen bottle of wine all sat on the floor beside him. Spy flinched at the sudden intruder, nearly spilling his glass of wine. Demoman froze in his tracks, looking utterly confused while aiming the iron bomber’s sight at him. He slowly gazed down at the open wine bottle on the floor. Spy rose an eyebrow, noticing his enemy’s hesitation.

“Don’t shoot. I’ll share with you.” Spy bargained. He cautiously set down his glass onto the floor then picked up the bottle of wine. Raising it upwards towards the Demoman as a peace offering. The rookie Demoman lowered his gun, genuinely intrigued by the man’s offer.

🕰️

An hour had passed and both men were now sat side by side on the hard wood floor together. Drunkenly mingling away as the current round continued on outside. Doing their best to ignore the gunshots and explosions in the distance.

“Everyone except Pyro’s been treatin’ me like I got the bloody plague. I don’t know what the hell their problem is.” Demo vented in a frustrated tone. Immediately taking a swig of wine right after. Spy frowned at his confession.

“My team despises me as well.” Spy drunkenly admitted. Gently resting his head onto Demoman’s shoulder. Taking a final sip of wine leftover from his glass.

“Huh? Really?” Demo asked in disbelief.

“Yes…supposedly, I haven’t been acting like myself. They all think I’ve changed ever since I got my body back.” Spy confessed, anxiously rubbing the back of his scarred neck. Demoman tilted his head as he listened.

“Well…do ya feel any different? I can’t imagine you’d be the exact same after somethin’ like that.” Demo curiously asked, setting down the nearly empty wine bottle back onto the floor.

“I feel better than ever…but they all find me repulsive now. I can’t seem to trust them the same anymore.” Spy honestly explained. Slowly meeting up with the enemy’s matching sad gaze. Demoman let out a defeated sigh.

“I know how that feels. Sometimes…it feels like ya can’t trust anyone. Not even the people you’re gettin’ paid to trust.” Demo replied with a sad shrug. Spy sighed and nodded in agreement. Both men sat there a few silent moments, listening to the faint instrumental jazz music spewing from Spy’s portable radio.

“Let’s finish this bottle, shall we?” Spy flirtatiously proposed. Grabbing the open bottle of wine nearby and taking the last swig into his mouth. He then immediately grabbed the back of Demoman’s neck, crashing their lips together. Messily transferring the sweet wine into his enemy’s mouth. Demoman’s face lit up as their lips met. He eagerly kissed and swallowed the last bit of sweet wine from Spy’s mouth. A few burgundy droplets trickled down both of their chins. Both men eagerly began kissing each other in a passionate frenzy. Spy let out an impatient groan. Demoman kept their lips locked while simultaneously turning up the volume dial to the radio. Hoping to drown out their crude noises. Spy parted ways suddenly, wiping off some of the wine from his chin with his hand.

“Wait…let’s get the hell out of this barn first.” Spy spontaneously proposed. Demoman paused and tilted his head curiously.

“Where ya wanna go?” Demo asked.

“Anywhere but here.” Spy grumbled, folding his arms. Demoman sat there a few silent moments. Conjuring up an impulsive and spontaneous plan to escape with his new found friend.

“Hmm…I got an idea.” Demo piped up. Spy rose an eyebrow.

“Well? Let’s hear it.” Spy replied with a devious smirk.

🕰️

Another half hour of company time had passed. Engineer suddenly yelped in disbelief from his current sentry camp. Witnessing his stolen red truck currently doing donuts in a field off in the distance. He squinted his eyes to find his teammate Demoman and the enemy Spy occupying his vehicle. The Texan abandoned his sentry camp momentarily to run up closer towards his truck. Hearing them both drunkenly yell and cheer as he approached them closer. Before he could draw out his pistol, Demoman slammed on the gas pedal and sped off. Driving through a wooden fence and off to the nearest road he could find. Engineer was left looking utterly baffled and upset. He angrily shoved his hand into his back pocket to whip out his cellphone.

🕰️

After about 15 minutes of driving down the dirt road, Demoman suddenly flinched hearing his work phone start ringing. The Scotsman let out an annoyed groan listening to the dreaded sound.

“Here, I’ll get it for you.” Spy offered, gliding a hand over the man’s thigh.

“Thanks man.” Demo replied with a drunken grin. Spy grabbed the man’s phone from his front pocket, hitting the answer button and holding it up to Demoman’s mouth. Before he could greet her, Miss Pauling immediately began yelling through the speaker.

“DEMOMAN! Where the hell are you!? Engineer just told me that you stole his truck and fled off with the enemy?!” Miss Pauling frantically shouted through the portable phone’s speaker.

“Aye! I’m just borrowin’ it for a wee bit.” Demoman bluntly replied. Miss Pauling let out an agitated groan.

“Listen to me carefully. Turn around, kill that Spy and get back to that farm! You need to help your team get that briefcase!” Miss Pauling angrily instructed. Spy was left silently pouting. Demoman furrowed his eyebrows.

“They’ll manage! I’m takin’ the day off.” Demo firmly declared.

“You have to schedule those off in advance Demo! That’s not how this works. You can’t just leave when you want to?!” Miss Pauling sternly lectured. Both men rolled their eyes in unison at those last few confining words. Demoman grumbled and pressed down on the brake pedal carefully. Slowing down his speed and inevitably coming to a stop on the side of the road. Demoman swiftly took his cellphone from Spy’s hand. Getting out of the driver’s seat momentarily to place the phone near one of the front tires.

“Hello?!…Are you there?! Listen to me! You’re going to get written up for this! Just get back to the farm-“ Miss Pauling shouted before completely cutting off. Demoman drove the truck’s front tire over the device, crushing it into several pieces. Running over the phone a few more times before speeding off down the road. Spy snickered hearing the device crumple underneath the truck’s weight.

“Once we find a gas station, let’s ditch the truck.” Spy suggested.

“Aye, they probably got a tracker on this damn thing too.” Demo agreed while quickly glancing around inside of the truck. Spy let out a disappointed groan after opening up the Engineer’s glovebox. Finding a pistol, a lone cigar and various paperwork. Nonetheless, Spy took the cigar and eagerly put it between his lips. Taking out his metal lighter from his pocket and sparking the tip of it. Propping both legs up on the dashboard and comfortably lounging in the passenger’s seat.

[jewels-writes]

deception (captain price x reader)

Warnings: None.. yet >:) Word Count: 1,434 Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Captain John Price x Reader Notes: There's a pre-established relationship between the reader and Price, you two are already dating when this story takes place. This is the first part of a longer series so please stay tuned!! As always, this is poorly proofread so apologies for any inconsistencies or grammatical errors. Part 2 Part 3 — — — —

It had been tense since you’d heard. Since anyone heard. You remembered your eyes locking with Price’s when Laswell made the announcement, cutting the mission short. Now you and the 141 were crammed into the back of the cargo truck, untrusting gazes passing through everyone. It was one of you, though the culprit would never admit it. 

One of you was a spy. A traitor. 

You sat between Price and Soap, your hands fiddling in your lap. The nerves ate at you, that there was a spy sitting in the same truck as you. Sickness welled up inside you, you couldn’t handle the thought of one of your friends, of heaven forbid your lover being the one compromising the team. 

You were sure everyone else felt the same. You could hear everyone’s tense breathing as their eyes scanned their teammates. You could see Ghost glaring at you from where he sat across from you, his gloves making a noise at how tight he held his gun. You swore he could dent the metal if he tried hard enough. 

It remained uncomfortably silent the entire bumpy ride back to base. 

When you got back, there were glares from every other unit when the 141 walked by, reasonably so. You were sure they’d also been notified, why else would they look like they wanted you dead. Despite everything, Price stayed close to you. He was your boyfriend, after all. His hand rested on the small of your back, never once wavering, even with the sickening knowledge you both now held.

“You’ll be alright. Everything will be okay. I’m sure this was a mistake.” His gruffy voice reassured you.

You knew how this went, what the protocol was. You were ready for the inevitable questioning and tests that came with such an incident. Soon you and the 141 stood before the single interrogation room, the window to the room revealing that Laswell and another agent sat across from an empty chair.

“I’ll go first.” You muttered, knocking twice on the door before entering. Inside, Laswell sat at the head of the table, her piercing eyes locked onto you. There was no kindness or sympathy in her gaze, only the steely determination of someone who was determined to root out the truth. You could feel the weight of suspicion hanging in the air, choking the room with its intensity.

“Sit,” she commanded, gesturing to the empty chair opposite her. You complied, taking a seat and trying to maintain your composure As you sat down in the hard metal chair, you felt a shiver run up your spine. The entire situation made your blood go cold. You couldn’t process how someone could be a spy. Laswell leaned forward, her voice cold and measured. “Tell me, soldier, what were you really doing during the mission? What information did you share?” As the questioning started, you shook off the nerves, realizing the need for professionalism and honesty. 

You met her gaze with a practiced steadiness from years of being a soldier. “I did as I was instructed. I followed orders and completed my assigned tasks. I didn't share any information with anyone outside the team.”

Laswell's eyes narrowed, watching your every word and facial expression. “And what about your relationship with Captain Price? Have you noticed anything suspicious or peculiar about him? Any conversations that raised your suspicions?”

Your heart skipped a beat, the mention of Price striking a nerve. You had to be careful, to protect him at all costs. Your relationship with him was public, you had nothing to hide. You knew he was a good man. 

“Captain Price is an exceptional leader and my partner. We trust each other implicitly. There's nothing that raises any suspicion on my part.” As you watched her scribble down information onto a notepad, you followed up, your tone accusatory. “You’re not seriously suspecting Price of all people, are you?” 

Laswell's gaze hardened, her eyes narrowing further. “Let's not jump to conclusions just yet,” she replied, her voice laced with a subtle hint of irritation. “We can't afford to rule anyone out at this stage. Everyone is under scrutiny, regardless of their rank or reputation.”

A flicker of anger flashed across your features. How could she even consider Price, a veteran soldier, as the spy? He’d risked his life countless times for the greater good, and his loyalty was unwavering. It felt like a personal attack, an insult to both you and Price.

“I understand the need to be thorough,” you retorted, your voice firm and resolute, gaining some volume as she spoke of your lover. “But questioning Price's loyalty seems baseless and disrespectful. He's proven himself time and time again, and his loyalty to this team is undeniable.”

Laswell's cold gaze bore into you, her expression unreadable. “No one is immune to suspicion, soldier,” she replied curtly. “We will pursue every lead until the truth is revealed. Including your Captain.” She paused for a moment before continuing in a lower tone. “Do not let your emotions blind you to the truth.”

You clenched your fists, fighting to contain the rising frustration within you. Despite the anger coursing through your veins, you knew you had to tread carefully. Pushing too hard might only raise suspicion against innocence. Swallowing the bitter taste of your words, you forced a neutral tone.

“I understand, Kate,”  you said with a deliberate calmness. “I'll cooperate fully with the investigation. But I stand by Price. I believe in his honor and loyalty to this team.”

Laswell leaned back, her gaze still fixed upon you. A moment of silence lingered in the room, thick with tension. Finally, she spoke with a dismissive wave of her hand, indicating you were free to leave.

“We'll see about that,” she murmured, her voice tinged with an ominous warning, as if she knew something that you didn’t.

As you left the room, it took everything you had to not let the door slam. Your anger had simmered to the edge, threatening to overflow. Price, who’d been watching the entire time through the small window, rushed to your side, seeing your upset state.

“What happened in there, love? Talk to me.” His voice was low and soothing, desperate to ease your troubles. As he reached you, his hands went to both of your shoulders, forcing you to look up at him.

“Laswell suspects you. You were all she would bloody talk about.” Your voice was trembling, giving way to your inner turmoil.

Price's hand tightened on your shoulders, his gaze narrowing in concern. He could sense the anger radiating from you, and his brows furrowed in response. “She suspects me?”  he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. “That daft woman must be blind if she thinks I'm the bloody spy.”

His grip on your shoulders loosened, his expression softening with understanding. “Look, love, I know it's infuriating. But we can't let it get to us. We can't let it tear us apart.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “We'll find the truth, together. We'll expose the real traitor and clear our names.”

“How will I be able to trust then?” You asked helplessly, your voice charged with stress. “These are the people I let protect me on the field. How am I ever supposed to heal if there is actually a traitor? And we’ve been deceived?”

Price's gaze softened, his voice filled with understanding as he spoke softly. “Trust is a fragile thing, love. But we can't let that fear consume us. We've been through hell and back together, and that counts for something. If there is a traitor, we'll expose them, and we'll do it as a team. We won't let them shake our faith in each other.”

He took a step closer, one of hands moving from your shoulder to gently cup your cheek. “You're strong, soldier. Stronger than you give yourself credit for. And I'll be right by your side, every step of the way. We'll get through this together, and we'll emerge stronger on the other side.”

Price's thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch offering a soothing comfort amidst the chaos. “Believe in us, in our bond. We've faced worse odds, and we've come out victorious. This is just another battle that we'll conquer. Trust me.”

And with those words, he pulled you into a warm embrace, enveloping you in a sense of security and love. In that moment, you felt the weight on your shoulders slightly lighten, and a flicker of hope flashed in your mind. You had to pray that he was right. — — — — As always, my requests are open. Send a message if you would like to request anything

[blackjackkent]

Ask prompt fill for @astreamofstars combining two different prompts: Karlach - "I think I'm losing myself again." (more random dialogue prompts) Jaheira & Karlach - "But for you, I will be making an exception." (Blood and Darkness prompts) A bit of late-game feelsiness. :3 TY for the prompt!

-----

Baldur’s Gate never truly sleeps, so even at four o’clock in the morning, the Elfsong is still pretty busy. Karlach looks around, detached and weary, as she trudges between the tables, taking in the clientele - the hard drinkers slumped in chairs waiting for the next round, the terse-muttering gambling game hunched in a corner, the bored-looking escort chatting with Lakrissa by the bar. 

A drink sounds tempting, given the mood Karlach is in, but it’s a bad fucking idea with the mood she’s in, and she knows it. So she avoids making eye contact with anyone, just makes for the stairs, concentrating solely on the effort it takes to put one foot in front of the other. 

Things are quieter upstairs. The wide-open suite that Hector claimed for them is silent and still, which is unsurprising, given the hell of a day it’s been. To her surprise, though, not everyone is asleep.

Jaheira is resting in one of the overstuffed chairs in the little sitting room area at the center of the suite. Her legs are drawn up onto the chair crosswise and her head is tipped forward; Karlach can just make out her voice, engaged in a low and evidently quite serious conversation with a large, grey rat. 

Jaheira’s head snaps up at the sound of the door opening, and then she relaxes and smiles slightly, seeing Karlach arriving. “There you are, cub,” she says mildly. 

In spite of the smile, her eyes are serious, searching Karlach’s expression thoughtfully in the low lamplight. Then she mutters something under her breath, and the rat on her lap squeaks softly and darts off, disappearing into the shadows at the corner of the room.

Karlach can’t help a slight smile in return. They’ve traveled together for a few weeks now, but having Jaheira look at her like a comrade, call her cub, still feels like she’s having some kind of dream. “Friend of yours?” she asks softly, jerking her head to indicate the shadows where the rat vanished.

“A business associate,” Jaheira says gravely, and she seems gratified when this elicits a low laugh from Karlach. “One does not become the High Harper of Baldur’s Gate without a spy network both robust and subtle.” 

A pause, and then she goes on more seriously, “I will not ask if you are all right, because I can tell by eye that you are not. If you wish to talk about it, I think you will do so without my asking, and if you do not, it will only aggravate you to be badgered.” Her eyes glint with wry humor. “Many is the time I have stood in the same shoes.”

Karlach grunts. “Gotta admit, I didn’t much want to talk about it,” she agrees. “But… well, for you, maybe I’d make an exception.” 

She sits down on another chair opposite the older woman, who watches her silently, expectantly. Not pressing, just waiting. 

Karlach sighs. “Sorry I screamed at you all, back in the Keep,” she mutters.

Jaheira barks a soft, humorless laugh. “I believe anyone would say you had your reasons.”

“Maybe. It just… bah. Fuck. It all closed in on me at once, y’know? Like the only thing keeping me upright was knowing I still had that fucker to kill. And now that he’s dead…” Karlach trails off and rubs at her forehead with the heel of her hand. She can feel the heat bleeding between the skin of her palm and the skin of her face; the engine, in spite of Dammon’s upgrades, is starting to run hot again. “I dunno. I guess somehow I thought it’d all come clear, suddenly. Some magical solution popping like a jack-in-the-box out of his dead stupid face. But there’s nothing, is there?”

Jaheira shakes her head. “No,” she says quietly.

“Mm.” Karlach twitches the heel of her boot against the thick pile of the carpet. Posh bloody place, she thinks absently. What the fuck am I doing here? “I went and walked along the river a while. Screamed at a gull and it screamed back at me. Made me feel better for a minute. A bit. Maybe.”

Jaheira doesn’t answer, just listens, leaning back in her chair, shifting her legs so they’re outstretched in front of her. Silence stretches between them before Karlach goes on in a low voice.

“There were some real bad times in Avernus, y’know? I don’t mean bad physically. I mean, there was plenty of that too; every minute of it was like being beaten with a fucking hammer. But… bad up here.” She taps her temple. “At first I had hope, and then later on I got hardened to it after a while, got so I could shut the soft parts of my brain off, but there was a bit in between where… I just felt empty. No hope left to keep going, just too damn stubborn to give up and die. Just… blank.” 

She stares at the floor, picking out a subtle crack in the wood planks that the edge of the carpet is trying to cover up. “Feels like it could happen again,” she finishes, almost inaudibly. “I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to fall back into that… fucking pit.”

Jaheira makes a soft, sad noise in the back of her throat. “You have been dealt a terrible hand, Karlach. A lesser soul would have crumbled long since,” she says. “You have been remarkably strong.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sick of fucking being strong,” Karlach mutters. “Sick of having to work so hard just to feel okay.”

“I know,” Jaheira murmurs.

She probably does, at that. If there’s anyone who’s got a loss to go with every victory in her biography, it’s Jaheira. Karlach sighs, lifts her eyes to meet the Harper’s steady golden-brown gaze, watching her. “Yeah. It fucking sucks,” she says vehemently.

Jaheira’s lips twitch sardonically. “A mild way of putting it.” Her mouth draws into a tight line. “The world is an unfair place,” she says flatly. “And you have caught the fullest force of its blows. I wish I had something to offer you that might bring true comfort… but I have only this.”

She leans forward a little in her chair, her eyes never leaving Karlach’s. “We will not let you fall into that pit. You were alone in Avernus. You are not alone now. Whatever path you walk is walked with friends. It fixes nothing, but I have had many dark days that were made bearable only because those I loved faced them at my side.”

Karlach draws a slow, unsteady breath, lets it out shakily. “Yeah,” she agrees. Her eyes flick over her shoulder briefly towards Hector’s bunk before returning to Jaheira. Then she laughs softly, almost involuntarily - that damned ornery determination to hope clawing its way back up out of her chest again. “Couldn’t just put on your ‘mum’ voice and tell me everything’ll be fine, huh?”

Jaheira raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you would like?” she asks, sounding a tad bemused.

“Probably not. But couldn’t hurt to try, right? Gods know screaming at the gulls didn’t help much.”

Jaheira chuckles. “Very well.” She straightens her back, folds her arms across her chest, and purses out her lips with a sober air. “It will be all right, cub,” she says softly.

It’s so stupid. She knows Jaheira’s lying. They both know she’s lying. But damned if it doesn’t somehow feel better anyway. “Thanks,” she murmurs.

-----

Tag list: @scribblingface @writer86 @thedarkstrategist @marigoldbaker @krawwan

@eluvisen

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[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Could we maybe get the SVE adventures (plus Marlon) and mages (plus Camilla) with a farmer who is very similar in terms of power to Mr. Qi please? Teleporting without totems, seemingly never running out of mana, almost omniscient in their powers. A possibly ancient, very mysterious farmer who doesn’t seem to bind to the laws of typical magic or the very stars themselves. Just an overall extremely powerful person whose full extent is never truly revealed because of the sheer strength of it, but resides as a simple farmer. No worries if not, thank you!

A cryptic farmer who brings chaos to all adventurers and mages with their mere presence? Oh yeah! Thanks for the question dear anon, and enjoy 🫰💕

_________________________________________

Isaac:

...Isaac wants to scream and tear the hair out of his head. Is this Yoba's punishment for his sins, or what?

He's mad at the absurdly powerful Farmer, who, not only breaks all the laws of physics and magic, out of a million people, has chosen to be friends with him specifically, no matter how much he tries to chase them away!

And it's like everyone else didn't give a damn about Farmer showing off their power.

They could be a spy of the Gotoro Empire, a renegade mage, an evil spirit, some entity with unclear motives. They could start wreaking havoc and harming people with these powers. But no one seems to care.

They need to be interrogated, monitored to make sure they don't hurt anyone!

IS ISAAC THE ONLY SANE ONE IN THIS MADHOUSE?! THE FUCK IS THIS?!

Alesia:

Alesia seriously now thinks that Farmer is a mortal incarnation of Yoba.

Because the sniper couldn't find any other explanation, no matter how hard she tried to find logic in their super powers and after several questions.

Don't think she was stupid and believed it right away like that, of course not.

Alesia watched Farmer, asking Marlon and the others about them. But their actions and their power simply defied any logic.

The final moment was when Farmer somehow made it through the barrier and stood on the wall of the Castle Village, startling everyone present.

"What are you...?" She received no answer as Farmer, babbling something about "automatic winemaking", disappeared again.

Camilla:

If even the smile came off Camilla's face and changed to complete bewilderment and shock, then yes, Farmer is very, very strong.

Because only a couple of people in the world could be equal in spell power to the strongest witch in Castle Village and the entire Republic.

The witch thinks Farmer accidentally dipped into a vat of elixirs. Or into some lake of magical water. Or maybe something else?...

She knew magic emanated from them, but it hadn't occurred to even her that it was that strong.

But aside from natural talent, Camilla had been successful through hard work. Farmer, on the other hand, is quite young and hasn't been formally trained anywhere.

How... interesting. Camilla will be watching them.

Jadu:

Normally, Jadu is a busy man, always rushing somewhere, always doing some errand.

But once he sees Farmer and their simply inhuman abilities, he's abruptly needed in the Stardew Valley. Because Marlon probably needs the support of a Castle Village mage....

And of course Jadu certainly won't be looking for an excuse to go to Pelican Town and spy on Farmer, of course not.

... Okay, Jadu himself admits that secretly spying on Farmer is kinda rude and even creepy.

But they wield a power that even true masters couldn't master in a lifetime. And he's curious, okay!? Where else would Jadu encounter such a phenomenon? Oh, that probably sounded rude too... He doesn't want to insult the Farmer in any way... But it's still incredible!

Marlon:

Sigh... He's too old for this shit...

When Marlon had first met Farmer, he had guessed even then that with that look, full of determination, they would make a good adventurer.

Except that nobody warned him that in addition to a decent adventurer, the world would provide him with the most chaotic and mysterious person in the world.

And the one-eyed adventurer does not even need to observe Farmer's successes - reports and conversations with colleagues give the big picture.

Strangely, Marlon had somehow got... used to it. To their constant teleportation, to their powerful magic, etc.

It's just that he's sure Farmer has a good heart and noble intentions. And the fact that they are a demigod - well, what can you do about it.

Lance:

Naturally, Lance is greatly surprised by such power from his young colleague, but he's also very curious about this unique case.

Naturally, he won't directly ask Farmer any not-so-convenient questions, but Lance approaches the topic of power carefully.

So far, the result is striking.

Farmer knows nothing about artefacts, for example, yet can use them as if they've been training all their lives.

How???

Strange or not, he quite admires their ability and believes that Farmer wishes no harm to anyone.

There will still be his share of doubts, for sure, but Lance won't treat Farmer any worse just because their natural talent is so immense. They're a good person.

[peebrainiac]

does anyone remember the skirt arc in the first twenty episodes of Jackson's Diary. I do. And I have feelings about it. Long rant incoming, I've held this in for a long time and I've never seen anyone talk about it.

I love the characters of Jackson’s Diary, they’re the reason I keep coming back, but you have to admit at the start they’re cliche. Maybe that's what Paola was going for, but the characters introduced later on aren’t any kind of cliche?? Jackson is the stock standard protag, Exer is the jock who bullies the protag for fuck all reasons, David is a twink, Ronald is the Russian One, Brenda is a popular girl, and Pamela is the goth chick. Side note, this takes place near the end of the cold war, I’m surprised no one thought Ron was a soviet spy.

These characters change later on, and by the end of season one and onwards they feel more like real people, but I’m left wondering why the beginning was so cartoonish.

Now the conflict, everyone and their mother hates the misunderstanding trope

misunderstanding plots are overdone and frustrating. Things like this happen in real life, sure, maybe if you're surrounded by idiots and have crazy bad luck. The main problem people have with misunderstanding plots is that the characters who’ve been friends for a long time suddenly turn on each other because they overheard something, and at least that doesn;t happen here. No one really likes each other yet. But yeah, this shit is so frustrating to read, I can’t imagine reading these as they came out and knowing the next episode would be the same song and dance.

Everyone feels. SO. DAMN. STUPID. Exer and David are actively making things worse and when the whole debacle is over Jackson blames HIMSELF?????? I get it, they think this guy is a pervert, but do they have to constantly talk over him? Why does no one let anyone communicate AND WHO WALKS AWAY WHEN SOMEONE IS TALKING TO YOU?? WHO DOES THAT?? WHAT THE FUCK BRENDA??

i get it stupid teenagers doing stupid things yada yada, this still just wasn't fun to read, man.

the thing I actually hate most about this arc is the fact that you could skip it almost in its entirety (except for the ron stuff because WHY WOULD YOU WANNA SKIP THAT) and it would not hinder your experience at all. This takes up almost ten episodes and FOR WHAT? You can’t even say it was so Jackson and Pamela have a meet cute because THAT IS NOT A MEET CUTE??? You're not cute, I’m getting second hand embarrassment JACKSON DON’T YELL AT YOUR HALLUCINATIONS IN PUBLIC YOU”RE GOING TO GET PUT IN A WARD, AND I KNOW THEY WERE SHITTY IN THE 80S.

TDLR: I just. I don’t know anymore man. This arc is a HARD read, I considered dropping it so many times because I wanted it to be over. On reread it becomes bearable, but maybe I’m just desensitized.

please remember people can criticize the media they like, I don't hate Jackson's Diary at all

This chain of events is a slog to get through, and with a few tweaks it could be written out of existence, and everything else could happen as it does in canon. This arc was probably thrown in to endear the audience to Jackson and see him as a little wet cat who’s the victim all the time, and it works. Because by the time Jackson snaps, it feels deserved. The thing is, other, worse things have happened in the time after the skirt accident and the time he snaps. So why is so much time spent on this?

Does this arc have any fans? Do I have to worry about getting swatted?

I could also rant about JD being detached from its 1980s identity and aesthetic but I'm not as angry about that.

[mvqtvn]

I wrote this (incomplete) passage a while ago, my language isn't very great but it is what it is

A short passage on my version of Cypher x Omen, my comfort ship:)

this is a warning for cringe.

The light flickered over the duo, who had just finished their training with Maxbot. Sweat trickled down Omen’s forehead, his shoulders heaving from overuse. He leaned against the lockers of the practice room, pouring water into his mouth. As Omen controlled his breathing, his shadowy form became more stable. Yoru watched him, puzzled. Despite Omen’s stoic demeanor and noble strength, he couldn’t understand how he could fall for someone as emotional and unpredictable as Cypher.

Cypher, the protocol’s spy. No one dared to get on his wrong side, knowing he might just leak every single personal detail about them. Most agents disapproved of Cypher having access to every file, and Yoru wasn’t an exception.

Watching the two interact so domestically baffled him. Their differences were stark. In missions, Cypher always relies on his utility while Omen relies on his raw strength. In the protocol, Omen is well-liked for having a strong mind and body, while Cypher is mostly avoided by the agents and some never even got to interact with him. Yoru simply didn’t understand their relationship.

“Omen, may I ask you about your love life?” he asked, leaning against the lockers.

“Hm, that’s unexpected coming from you… Sure, ask away” Omen glanced up, there was still a hint of wariness in his smile.

Yoru hesitated, sensing Omen’s caution, but still pressed on.

“I was wondering, and don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you still with that… Cypher?”

Omen stiffened. He had known some agents in the protocol disapproved of his relationship with the team’s spy, but he never thought that Yoru of all people would engage with such matters. Intrigued, he remained silent and let him continue.

“As in, I see your interactions with him. You care for him far more than he does to you… I mean, I think he’s just taking advantage of your affection. Using you as a way to feel loved. After all, it’s not like anyone can love him anyways...”

Yoru softened, but his words hit hard. Omen started shifting uncomfortably. Yoru didn’t want to seem unreasonable and desperately tried to explain himself.

Yoru - ”As in, everyone in the protocol knows Cypher’s a weird guy. Hiding his dirty laundry but digging around to find other’s secrets, you know, it’s just… not something people appreciate. I don’t want you to be betrayed by him, you don’t know what he’s hiding.”

That line made Omen snap. Cypher doesn’t hide things from him. He has heard the words that came out of the spy’s mouth, and it was definitely genuine. Or at least it felt that way. The shadowy mist that once Omen’s composure started to unravel slowly. He was getting agitated. Worry clouded his mind as thoughts raced through his head. Would Cypher really betray him after all the things he had said? The shadowy mist flowed out like water and wrapped around his arm in coils. The more Yoru’s words sank in, the larger the tendrils grew. The bandages that wrapped tightly around his arms were slowly starting to loosen. By Yoru’s lingering looks, Omen knew he saw it too.

“Sorry, I went too far.” Yoru admitted, backing off the conversation cautiously. He was aware of the tension he had created and didn’t want Omen to get frustrated or lose his composure. After all, he has seen what Omen becomes when he enters that unstable state.

“It’s alright riftwalker, but I have to go meet Sage. It’s time… for her to rewrap my bandages.” Omen said in between pauses while scanning his bandages that were now covered by his shadowy tendrils.

He could feel himself ripping apart, and it was almost unbearable. Despite this, he knew he couldn’t dwell on the pain. The safety of his colleagues mattered more than his need to relieve the stress. He couldn’t risk hurting another friend. Omen swiftly turned and walked away, heading to Sage’s medical office.

Yoru watched as the man walked away. By the twitching of his arms and the hesitant steps he took, Yoru knew he was clearly having a rough time keeping himself together. He wondered how Omen had managed to do so in the past. Omen’s body was mostly made of mist-like shadow with a few cyan-glowing stripes littered over his limbs. Maintaining a stable condition would definitely be straining. He took a final glance at Omen before he turned the corner, he had nothing but admiration in his eyes towards the enigmatic man.

reading what i wrote makes me cringe... lmao

i might continue writing this, i really enjoy the idea of cypher being disliked cuz of his role in the protocol

aaaaa

thank you for taking your time to read this

[bobamilkk]

TF2 HEADCANONS PART TWO ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

I told myself I’d get these up one of these days👍 I finished this list at 4 am last night so none of this makes any sense and every word is more chaotic than the ones before it and no I’m not sorry y’all sighed up for this bs

Scout

-Can understand a good chunk of French but can’t speak more than a few simple words if that, has no clue how he understands it (Spy spoke a good amount of French around him as a baby or something idk)

-Can be just has hard to find as Spy-once you loose sight of him he’s impossible to find if he’s actually trying to stay hidden-Like father like son

-Can and will steal your food-this includes Heavy and Medic-He has no fear whatsoever and has been sent to respawn god knows how many fucking times because of this-And yet he still does it

-Loves scifi movies and comics and if you watch a movie with him half of it is him pointing out random trivia facts because he’s incapable of shutting the fuck up (this is also what happens when you watch a movie with me irl. My grandparents are sick and tired of it. Yes this is even more self projection what of it?)

-has mastered the younger sibling talent of fucking climbing people if it means getting something that’s held over his head. He also bites

Soldier

-it’s impossible to tell if he’s insulting you or complimenting you 90% of the time

-Has stabbed Scout’s hand to the table to prevent him from stealing food before and no one stopped him

-The team has movie nights once a week and Soldier always puts on the same inaccurate WW2 documentary he made himself when it’s his turn to pick-he used to put on 10 hours of the American National Anthem but someone (read: The rest of the team working together) lost (read: Violently destroyed) the tape after the third time

-I said he was from Missouri once in a rp cuz my rp friend and I are both from different parts of Missouri so that’s my hc now

Pyro

-I always hc him as Irish for some reason idk why

-Can casually pick up every merc except for Heavy-He struggles a bit with Medic because that man is pure muscle but they can indeed pick him up

-May or may not be a cannibal-it’s a little uncertain but either way they’re banned from the kitchen and cooking duty

-I’m a sucker for the hc that he does not like water whatsoever-Getting this man a bath is like trying to bathe a cat except somehow even more deadly

Demo

-This may be the impulsive sleep deprivation but my brain randomly went “What If he can see general ghosts because of his possessed eye socket, not just Eyelander or the scream fortress ghosts” so sometimes people walk in on him casually having a conversation with the air. Considering he’s made out with his own organs in his head, this is one of the less weird things they’ve walked in on him doing

-Surprisingly he’s the best with kids out of all 9 mercs, Heavy is a good runner up though and Spy’s not far behind but will never admit it

Heavy

-Accent gets thicker when he’s talking to people he cares about

-Was the one who suggested the movie nights in the first place

-Actually cleans up in the base unlike literally everyone else

Engie

-People don’t realize how unhinged this man is ok??? Anyways he’s a caffeine addict and has developed the habit of pulling way too many all nighters if it means getting work done (like me. It’s 4 am as I work on this list. Help)

-What’s a southern farm boy without a few dozen concerning stories about pushing cousins out of second story barn windows or near drowning fishing story? My cousins lived on a farm when we were kids and they scared the shit out of me I swear there was a new broken bone every summer

-probably once had a sleep deprived mental breakdown on his workshop floor because the sweet tea one of the mercs made him wasn’t sweet enough idk man I’m sleep deprived rn and could really use a southern style sweet tea

Medic

-Mann vs Machine hc that his hometown would rather deal with the robots than having Medic anywhere near them ever again. They want him GONE

-Sleeps like a fucking corpse-You can’t even tell he’s breathing unless you look closely. He even crosses his arms like a corpse

-Will take you graverobbing for a romantic date-gotta get experiment canvases somehow he’s running out of room on the other mercs without them just dropping dead from it all

Sniper

-The opposite of a morning person, but his internal clock won’t let him sleep in ever. The suns up? He’s up! Someone help him

-Has befriended a wild owl and feeds it at night-The offense trio very violently helped him name it (They fist fought eachother over who’s name was better while Sniper spaced out thinking about random gator facts)

Spy

-An adrenaline junkie but will never ever admit it

-Spy can mimic voices to a near perfect even without his disguise kit-he however rarely uses this and instead simply mocks everyone instead because he finds it funny (“This is Scout! Rainbows make me cry!”)

-Wears a corset because I said so-It always matches perfectly with his outfit and underwear too-He feels SO bonita

Bonus since it’s Pride Month

-Scout is gay and so many levels deep in the closet it’s embarrassing-He’s also trans because I said so

-Soldier is trans, bi, and poly :) his list of wives consists of anyone and everyone /j

-Spy is bi and a cis man who wears dresses regularly he’s gnc af and I love that for him he’s my wife now

-Medic is gay and still legally married to his wife they’re mlm wlm solidarity married for tax benefits /j

-Pyro is trans, non-binary, and pan and uses he/they pronouns because I said so

-None of these men are straight ok

-Medic did both Scout and Soldier’s top surgery but both of them instead have overly extravagant extremely gorey stories on how they got their scars