#I feel like someone had to have gotten a kick out of this decision for it to have been done

[tmpestuous]

someone to stay

summary: bucky offers you solace as your mental fatigue rears its head.

pairing: boyfriend!bucky x reader

warnings: angst, reader anxiety/depression, fluff, non-sexual nudity, a comforting buck <3

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this was inspired by my own issues right now because i definitely need it at the moment :’) 

Getting out of bed was always the most difficult part of your day. Even when you were feeling okay, even when nothing was immediately wrong. You would wake up and stare into the void, blankets smothering your body and eyelids still heavy from the bit of sleep you’d managed to get.

There wasn’t anything pressing your anxiety, but having been out of your routine for a few weeks always left you feeling unmotivated. After having been sidelined from missions for a multitude of reasons—injuries, mental stability, and a dwindling success rate—you had nothing to do. None of your side hobbies entertained you long enough to keep you busy, so you fell into the same cycle. You sometimes wished you could sleep all day or even just stay stagnant in bed, but you knew it’d only make the fatigue worse.

Today, however, was not one of those days where you pushed yourself out of bed. Not bothered to check the time, you closed your eyes again. It was raining outside anyways, the perfect weather to stay cuddled in bed for. Soon enough, you found some sleep again, even if you’d regret it later.

Bucky, who was not sidelined from missions, had just come back from one, more than eager to see you. He was back earlier than expected, so he only figured you wouldn’t be in your usual spot waiting for him in the hangar of the compound. It was a bit past noon, so he assumed you were keeping busy elsewhere.

After a quick debrief, he made it to your shared room, only to be led to confusion at the curtains still drawn and all of the lights off. He knew how much you hated sleeping in too late, only ever sleeping past 9 if you were really exhausted and/or hadn’t gotten much sleep at all. Even then, you never let it get past 11 before you were up and out of bed.

Bucky knew you were taking your suspension a bit rougher than expected. He hated seeing you upset and he was even willing to skip out on a few missions to stay with you, but you’d insisted otherwise, saying “the bad guys don’t take breaks.” 

He never liked leaving you. Most of your missions had the two of you together, SHIELD thinking you worked well together even outside of your relationship. Going on missions without you meant he was always stuck with some reckless, inexperienced agent who wasn’t half as skilled as you a lot of the time. It was why he only liked the ones where he was with Sam or Steve, at least not having to stress about saving anyone.

He missed you on every single one. Your quips, how satisfying it was to see you kick people’s asses, and how swiftly you did just about everything. But Bucky also knew you needed a break. Your anxiety was more rampant lately, and it was affecting all of your skills on the field. The decision to bench you didn’t come easy to anyone, but especially not you.

You honestly had little to no idea what had you so anxious to start with, but anything else that triggered your anxiety only amplified it. Bucky was so reluctant to let Steve suspend you, but after you got seriously injured on a mission for lack of attention, he couldn’t argue against it anymore.

“You can’t be serious,” you said to Steve, tears in your eyes. “I’ve been injured so many times, why does that even matter?”

“It’s not just the injury,” Steve countered. “You’ve been off your game. I can’t risk losing one of our best members because you’re distracted.”

“I’m not dis—”

“You being distracted is how you ended up with a broken arm and a head injury,” he cut you off, making you look away from him. “You’re gonna end up dead if you keep on like this. I can’t deal with that loss, and neither can Bucky.”

Snapping your gaze back at Steve, you scoffed.

“So this is about Bucky?”

“This is about you, Y/n,” Steve said, his tone slightly more irritated. “He begged me not to bench you, said you just needed some time but even he knows putting you on the field again is risking your life.”

Wiping your tears away, you said nothing in response. You knew he was right, but the last thing you needed was to give in. It’d make you crumble, it’d make this whole situation real and you knew where you’d end up. 

Your conversation ended when Bucky walked in the room.

It was the right decision after all. However, Bucky’s chest ached knowing how low you were feeling. Knowing that you were doing everything just to get by, yet nothing at all. He hadn’t seen you in a melancholy state for years, but it always scared him. He barely made it out of his own episodes sometimes, panic manifesting through his bones. His worry only worsened at the thought of not being able to pull you from the darkness, the way you’d done so for him many times. 

Seeing you under the sheets, sound asleep past noon didn’t settle Bucky’s own anxiety. He was out on this mission for eight days, but you’d sounded okay when you spoke to him over the phone every night. 

Were you not getting any sleep? Were you falling asleep really late? Or was your current funk really getting to you?

Bucky set his duffel bag on the floor, shutting the door behind him. He decided against opening the curtains until you were awake, sitting on the edge of the bed next to your sleeping body, placing his flesh hand on your cheek gently.

“Sweetheart,” he said, leaning down and kissing your forehead a few times. “Let me see those pretty eyes, doll.”

Furrowing your eyebrows before peeling your eyes open, you were greeted with your favorite super soldier, a smile creeping on your face.

“Hi,” you said groggily, Bucky kissing your forehead again. “You’re back early.”

“Got the job done quickly,” he fed your curiosity. “What are you still doing asleep, doll? Are you okay?”

“What time is it?” You said, still unmotivated to get up from your lying position. 

“Almost 1,” Bucky answered before your eyes widened and you sat up, frantic about how the morning got away from you. “Hey, hey,” Bucky placed his hands on your shoulder, easing the tension a bit. “It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with oversleeping once in a while.”

You shook your head, avoiding Bucky’s gaze as you rubbed your eyes. “I shouldn’t have slept that long.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then your cheek, then pulled your hands away from your eyes. The bags under them didn’t go without notice, Bucky getting more worried than earlier. He knew you weren’t sleeping well, and him not being here to soothe you must have made it worse.

“Is everything okay?” He asked again, never getting an answer from you.

You sighed. “I don’t really know, I’m just- I’m always tired and don’t wanna do anything even though I know I shouldn’t just stay in bed. I was gonna wake up early today to see if I could get moving but then I barely slept and thought a few more hours could be useful but now—”

“Shh,” Bucky said, pulling you into his embrace, rubbing your back softly. “There is still a lot of time left in the day, but I don’t mind sleeping this Sunday away with you after the mission I just had.” He kissed the top of your head a few times. “We can shower then eat and then rest. Sounds good?”

You nodded, with a muffled ‘okay’ into his chest before pulling away, Bucky standing and grasping your hand in his to head to the bathroom. 

Bucky turned the shower on, letting it run to get warm before turning back to you. After you helped Bucky take his tac suit off, he helped you shed your pajamas. The both of you took your underwear off, Bucky checking the water before you stepped in. 

You always enjoyed showering with Bucky, most after a mission when you were both tired. Though this was different since you weren’t the one coming home, the sentiment of being tired remained the same.

Bucky could tell you were tense, that something was still bothering you. He never wanted to pry, so he massaged the tension out of your shoulders, getting you to relax your posture a bit. You both worked your way around lathering each other with soap, your eyes doing their usual routine of scanning Bucky’s body for any cuts and bruises. Bucky decided to wash your hair, finding any means of making you feel relaxed. You sighed under his touch, leaning your head forward to rest against his chest as he rinsed your hair.

“Steve mentioned you going back on the field again,” Bucky eased into the conversation. “You feeling up for it?” Much to Bucky’s surprise, you shook your head, prompting him to lift your face in his hands. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You know you can talk to me.”

Sighing again, you leaned into his touch. “I’m not ready.”

“I thought you wanted to get back,” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows.

“I do,” you nodded. “But I just feel so… out of it. Like my mind is out of fuel and it’s putting my body on pause. I have no energy lately, I don’t really know what’s wrong with me.”

Bucky looked at you, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. He’d been there, where his body was craving one thing but his mind just never allowed him to satisfy any of his desires. Depression didn’t always look the same, but he could tell when it was starting to consume you.

The restless nights, the fatigue, the lack of energy and motivation. It was a stark contrast to your usual, productive self. Sometimes Bucky would have to slow you down for doing too many things at once, so it pained him to see you not want to do anything at all. 

He decided right then and there he’d take a pause from any missions until you were okay. Until he could see the spark in your eye again, the pep in your step. The energy being revitalized.

“It happens, baby,” he reassured. “You’ve helped me through some of my funks, so let me help you out of yours, hm?”

“You don’t have to, Bucky,” you shook your head, but he shushed you, a chaste kiss placed on your lips. “I’m serious, you don’t have to pause your life for me. People still need help and I’ll get out of my fatigue stint eventually, so—”

“You know you’re not gonna convince me otherwise, right?” He shut you up again, offering you a smirk and another peck to the lips. “I would drop everything for you. At any time, on any day, at any given moment. You are my world, doll. If you’re not okay, then my world isn’t okay.”

“But what if they really need you—”

“They won’t,” Bucky grabbed the comb to detangle your hair. “Now come on, let me help you ease your mind, hm?”

Knowing you couldn’t say no to him, you turned so your back was facing him, Bucky smoothly getting any knots out of your hair. 

He knew how much you loved it when he did your hair, knowing the process was super long and you didn’t want to do it half of the time. When he first heard you complain about having to do it, he made you teach him your whole routine for whenever you were feeling unmotivated to. It was one of many things he eagerly learned for you, always wanting to pamper you. 

Feeling a bit overwhelmed over the fact that you had him back, here with you as he did everything in his power to clear your head from the anxious thoughts, you couldn’t help but tear up. 

When he finished detangling your hair, holding it up with a clip, he saw you crying, quickly pulling you in his arms, kissing you everywhere he could. 

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he said, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Once he let you return the favor of washing his hair, you made him sit on the built-in bench in the shower so you wouldn’t have to reach up the whole time. 

Bucky loved touching you, but he swore to everything that he loved your touch even more. Your hands were so soft and gentle, with each lather and rinse of his head.

“Your hair’s getting long again,” you said, running your fingers through Bucky’s brown locks, the length now passing his ear. “Are you gonna cut it?”

Bucky shrugged, his hands finding comfort in your waist as you stood in front of him. He placed a kiss on each of your hips then your stomach before looking up at you.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he answered before standing, kissing your lips again. He knew how much you liked his short hair when he first cut it, but deep down you loved his long hair too. You just never forced him to keep one or the other, knowing how many memories his hair held.

Bucky loved how well you knew him, how well you understood him. It was the main reason why he took his time to do the same for you.

Once you were both out of the shower and dressed, Bucky picked up his phone to order some food. You’d told him you were craving Chinese the night before on your phone call while he was away, so he ordered all of your favorites as you finished drying your hair in the bathroom.

After eating dinner, Bucky slid under the covers of your shared bed, extending his metal arm for you to grab as you slid in next to him. Your head found its usual spot on his chest, both of his arms encasing you in the pressure you sought so many times, your left leg over his right one. 

“Thank you,” you said softly as Bucky rubbed your back just the way you liked it. “For never judging me.”

“I would never plan to,” he said, using his right hand to lift your chin up. “We’re human. We have our moments where we need a break, a reset. You taught me that when I needed to hear it. Don’t think that it excludes you, my love.”

Leaning up, you pressed your lips against his in a soft kiss that said more than enough. 

Pulling away, you looked into those blue eyes that meant the world to you.

“What would I do without you?”

“Force yourself to do your hair routine every week,” Bucky joked, making you roll your eyes playfully with a smirk.

You pressed a kiss on his chest before laying your head on it again. “I love you.”

“I love you more, doll,” he said, massaging your scalp to soothe you until you fell asleep.

Bucky could watch you be this peaceful forever, vowing to spend the rest of his days making sure you were okay. He always knew you’d return the favor, enjoying every moment spent with you like this, comforted best in his arms.

[ceruleanchillin]

But is she really yours? (141 x Reader)

Note(s) -

It's long, so be warned.

The guys are doing a little of what we like to call Dirty Mackin, and yes, I think this is something they’d all do in their own way.

Still working on getting those accents to come through, while not stepping into cringe/wrong territory. 

I apologize, this is a very messy format (borderline stream of consciousness), and I’m trying to figure out a cleaner way to do this. I hope it doesn’t hurt the reading experience.

And I am the only one who kinda wants to see the reverse scenario, where Reader tries to get the guys away from their trash gfs? 👀Thanks to @bunnyreaper for the idea, it wrote itself as I read that.

Simon:

Annoying. That was the first thing Simon thought of you. So of course you had to work at the only cafe near his flat that made tea the way he liked.

You were always on your phone, arguing with someone (he guessed a boyfriend), and he hated getting stuck at your register. The calls clearly distressed you, and he didn’t know why you kept taking them. Especially on the job.

You’d gotten his order wrong more times than he could count, and you were always having to turn around and ask him to repeat the things he wanted. It got to the point where he waited until the other barista’s line was open.

Unfortunately, other customers had done the same, and it was causing a backup.

Then there was the day. His day started as it always did on his off time. The three S’s, and then he was at the gym to get his time in when he knew it was mostly empty. Then finally, his black tea.

He sighed, mentally preparing himself for the wait before he entered. As expected, there was a line.

You were there, and you appeared to be deeply engaged in conversation with the only person at your counter.

He was surprised to see you had a customer. ‘Must not be a regular.’

As he got closer to the counter, he could overhear the whispered argument. The man wasn’t a customer at all, he presumed he was the boyfriend from the phone calls. Based on the things the two of you were saying, that made the most sense.

‘Great. Getting the live version today.’ Simon had to wonder how you kept this job. Were you the boss's daughter? Did you own a share? Could he steal enough of the signature black tea blend and go into hiding until he had to ship out again?

You looked exasperated, and your co-worker stepped over to your side, coming to your aid.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Simon groaned, realizing the wait would be longer. 

He stepped outside for a cigarette, making the mental decision that if by the time he was done with it there was still a line, he would forgo his drink that day.

He chose the alley on the side of the shop, not liking the openness of the sidewalk, and staked out against the opposite building’s wall.

He was halfway past the tip of his cigarette when the side door he’d been eyeing warily opened, and out came you.

You looked frustrated, anxious, and maybe a little embarrassed. He didn’t think you noticed him, instead, walking over to the dumpster and kicking it, hard. It sent a loud, tinny groan echoing through the alley. He narrowed his eyes, feeling that itch of frustration under his skin.

You noticed him finally, and stopped angrily muttering to yourself. Instead, you started talking to him. It was mostly an uninterrupted stream of dialogue for two minutes straight (he timed it), before he could finally understand you.

“Mandatory break! That’s the second one this week, can you believe that?”

He started to say yes, and that he hoped the third one won you a prize: getting fired. He kept his mouth shut though.

“It’s not even me, it’s my boyfriend. He means well, but he just…I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.” You were searching for something in your apron, but he couldn’t tell what, out of the corner of his eye.

Simon flexed his fingers, eyes narrowing until the shop’s logo mural was a blur. You found it, and walked closer to him until he turned both eyes to you.

“Can I get a light?” You gestured with the unlit cigarette between your fingers to the one burning between his lips.

“Bloody. Fuckin’. Hell, Bird! S’not enough you keep half the fuckin’ place backed up on a good day, but then you prance your arse out here to annoy me some fuckin’ more? Fuck off.” He jabbed his pointer finger at the door you’d come out of.

The alley echoed his baritone, and somehow made his outburst sharper.

You stared at him like he’d taken his head off, instead of having bitten off yours. Eyes wide, bottom lip trembling, he thought you might cry, and he began to feel guilt grow in the pit of his stomach. He’d forgotten, in the midst of you stirring up similar agitation, that he wasn’t on base talking to some recruit dumped on him. 

You did cry, but once you started talking, he suspected it was more due to anger. “Fuck you! You fuck off, I work here!”

He ignored the small voice telling him ‘stop’, and fired back. “Work?” He snorted. “Real fuckin’ rich that is. Don’t confuse work with your million mandatory breaks.”

You clenched your fists, eyes wild with adrenaline and voice shrill with anger. “Go to hell. You’re just some freak in an alley who can’t remember when Halloween is. You don’t know me.”

You angrily wiped at your tears to no avail, as more quickly took their place, and then you started sobbing. 

Simon sighed, feeling like shit and wishing he’d held it together just a little more. “Alright. Alright. ‘Nuff of that now.”

“I’m not crying *hic* because of you…” you huffed, trying to get your voice under control. “Just go back to your cigarette. I hope you suck it up and *hic* choke!”

He chuckled, you were the first person in a while who’d lashed back out at his harsh disposition. At least to his face. “Was uglier than I should’ve been, but won’t pretend there wasn’t some truth to it.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re a shit barista, wanna form a band?” His lips quirked into a smirk around his near-stub cigarette.

For a beat there was silence, until the two of you burst into laughter. Yours a raucous peal of giggles, and his, raspy chuckles.

“Well, you earned that light. Got more balls then a lot of soldiers I know.”

The two of you stayed in that alley for thirty minutes just riffing off different topics. It ended with Simon giving you the friendly (read: rough) advice to not let your boyfriend cost you your job.

That’s not how he saw his day going. Having the most interesting conversation he’d had in a while with the woman who annoyed the piss out of him for the better part of his leave.

You were no longer annoying, you’d been upgraded to interesting, and that was the second thing Simon thought about you.

After your talk in the alley, Simon was pleasantly surprised to find that you’d taken his advice and stepped your skills up. It turned out, you were distracted by your boyfriend, but Simon had come to see why. He was obsessed with knowing where you were, and if you were thinking of him, and wondering if he should drop by. 

Simon felt more guilt for being so impatient, and he decided no matter what, he would pick your line. That was the only reason too. It certainly wasn’t because he couldn’t stop thinking about you after your last conversation. 

Sometimes you would take your breaks with him now, exhibiting that same forward nature from the alley, but it no longer annoyed him. He’d tease you about whether or not that break was mandatory, but he looked forward to it all the same.

You talked about anything and everything, from where you were from, to Simon having to explain the delicate ins and outs of football to you. (He was pretty sure you were pushing him to have a heart attack by pretending you forgot a different detail every time you talked).

It was an unstated, but mutually understood, thing that your time together fulfilled something missing for both of you. For him it was cutting into his habit of cutting off socialization until he was back on base or a mission, and for you, it was a break from your relationship.

He liked to think that you looked forward to your talks as much as he did, if your expression every time you saw him was an indicator. 

Unlike him, you were an open book, so you did most of the talking. Simon soaked up everything you told him, filing it away. You were funny, and fascinating.

On his end, he was careful about some of what he shared, and nervous about other things. He had more dark or restricted anecdotes than humourous or endearing ones, and he didn’t want to bring you down. After all, you had more than enough of that to deal with.

The boyfriend. He was a nightmare of obsession and insecurity. It was perhaps your fourth break-hangout that Simon saw it completely for himself. He’d all but dragged you out of your seat, which made Simon rise from his so quickly, it almost toppled over behind him. He wasn’t unaware of his size, nor was he afraid to use it on the shorter man, but you assured him it was fine until he sat down.

Your boyfriend was panicking, wondering why you were keeping someone like him company. He wanted to know what it meant for the two of you, and Simon hated seeing you in an endless loop of begging the pathetic prick to believe you loved him. All of your humor and your cute little habits disappeared as he forced you to become a helicopter girlfriend, concerned only with his fears.

Simon decided then he would sway you away from him. He didn’t deserve you, and Simon may not have known you long, but he couldn’t stand to see you withering under him and his emotional blackmail. No one ever accused Simon of being sane.

You would be his, and that was the third thing Simon thought about you.

If he said so himself, he was slick about it. He’d forgotten about the amount of energy it took to pursue a relationship with someone, and why he limited his romantic interactions to hookups with women he found interesting.

You weren’t just interesting, he was fully infatuated with you by the time he started to actively move towards getting you away from that neurotic dumpster. You were worth the effort.

It started with seeing you outside of the cafe in a way that seemed natural. He thought about it for a while, before he settled on inviting you to a football game. He couldn’t believe he’d worried that you’d say no, your ‘yes’ came out before he was even done asking.

You were impressed with his timing, confessing that the night before, your boyfriend had thoroughly embarrassed you at a party, and you needed a fun day.

Simon had smiled tightly all through your hurried explanation that everything was fine, and that he had apologized once you got home with him.

The day of the game, you were absolutely adorable when he picked you up. Giddily introducing him to your roommate. She eyed him with approval, and even congratulated you for trading up.

Before you could correct her, he slipped in his answer. “That remains to be seen. Depends on if she embarrasses me at the game.”

You snorted, launching into that now familiar peal of giggles. “I promise I won’t. Now, which of these soccer teams is yours again? The Manfordshire Mermaids?”

“You wanna ride there on the roof?”

The trip was a better investment than he thought. You were enthralled with what was going on, the hype of the crowd, the skill of the players, and just being there in person. However, you had to rely on him to translate this new world to you, and that left you literally clinging to him in interest. Simon was your whole world in that stadium, and he locked that feeling down tightly for motivation.

Step one had gone off without a hitch, and now it was on to step two. 

Outings with you became a series. Simon encouraged as many as possible in order to trigger the response he wanted.

He knew it wouldn’t be long until your boyfriend started getting antsy, and insecure again. You were going out twice as much as you had before you started hanging out with Simon outside of the cafe.

To push the matter, Simon told you his work schedule was getting hectic. It was a half truth, the training period before the announcement of a deployment had commenced, and Simon planned on having a girlfriend to come home to this time. Namely you.

He used the excuse to create later meetups. Dinners, movies, wandering the street and stumbling into things to do. All the while getting you hooked on his touch. Simon wasn’t a touchy-feely person by nature, and this was something everyone who knew him picked up on quickly. You picked up on it too, but he wanted to touch you. He didn’t though, at least not often. 

Starting off with little touches that could be confused as an accident, he increased the pressure but kept the frequency low so you became addicted to his rare touches. He wanted you to feel special that someone like him indulged you in that way, so that you’d seek out more, even though HE was the one who felt blessed every time he felt your skin on his.

When you were together, he made sure things were about you. He didn’t imagine your boyfriend left much room for that with his paranoia, but he wanted to show you what you were in for once you were together. 

One night, Simon kept you out later than usual. He’d stayed away from you for two weeks, which wasn’t hard, work was starting to pick up. He could’ve carved out a day or two though, but he wanted to make you crave his time like he did yours. 

It worked. He scheduled a late dinner at an upscale restaurant, letting you fill him in on all that he missed. Namely, you missed being with him. You weren’t the type to keep your feelings to yourself, and you’d inevitably vented to your boyfriend about missing your friend. He didn’t like that label at all, but he liked what would come from your actions.

Periodically throughout the dinner, your phone rang, increasing in frequency as the night wore on. 

You had to excuse yourself multiple times, and Simon pretended to be annoyed. In reality, he anticipated that. Each time the phone rang, you cringed and looked at him apologetically. 

On what had to be the tenth time, Simon said. “Go on then, run off to pamper the pathetic bastard. Powder his arse too this time.”

Your face screwed up in objection to his barbed words. “He’s just worried…”

He shrugged. “Don’t owe me an explanation lovie. S’just a mystery why you’re in such a rush to be a nursemaid.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood up from the table. “I’m in a rush to be a good girlfriend thank you. Stop being an ass, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“S’go,” he downed the last of his bourbon before he pulled his wallet from his pocket. “I’ll pay the tab and take you home.”

“What? We’re supposed to have dessert, and then maybe a movie.” 

Simon watched your distressed body language and expression with mild amusement, and he was proud of being able to hide it, even though he’d forgone his mask that night. “You’ve gotta tuck in your kid. S’not on me you won’t date a man.”

You pouted and sat back down. “If I put my phone away, you put your wallet away. You promised me dessert.”

He smirked, refusing to hide it now. This was the first time, since he’d met you, that you’d ignored your boyfriend, and it said a lot.

You did it once, so Simon was able to turn it into a habit. Your boyfriend looked increasingly unhinged as Simon made sure you starved him of your attention.

The ugly voicemails and text messages began soon after. He didn’t like that at all, and he had to remind himself the time to deal with your boyfriend would come, but he did appreciate that you were becoming less tolerant of him. 

Every time you returned to Simon after having to soothe your boyfriend’s ego, and stop his tantrums, Simon made your life easier. He worshiped you in subtle ways, reminding you of what a man was, compared to a child.

There was guilt on your part, but it felt so good to be taken care of for once. To not have to worry about Simon bursting into a fit of insecurity that made you completely responsible for his feelings, and left little to no room for anything else. 

When he touched you, it lit your nerve endings on fire. You knew that the touches were bordering on inappropriate, since you were still taken, but you also knew that your brain went numb with good vibrations with even just a brush of his fingertips.

Simon still kept it light, almost questionable as to whether it even happened, and you finally began to seek it out. Wearing backless tops so that his fingertips would brush your bare skin, sitting next to him in diner booths so a thick thigh was always brushing your own, going for things in high places so he’d steady you by your waist.

He never seemed to miss a beat on when and where to touch you, but it wasn’t enough.

The breaking point came when he invited you to a dinner Price was holding as a goodbye to civilian life until next leave. The verbal invitation was the most valuable thing to you in a while. Not only because you were increasingly becoming addicted to him, but because for someone like Simon to invite you into that part of his life, it meant that he was in deep with you too.

All of Simon’s friends were funny, inviting, and very taken by you. They were so polite to you, complimenting you, and telling you as much as they could about their work, trying to impress you.

You were having fun trying to keep up, but you got the impression that Simon inviting a woman he was seeing to meet them was a new thing, and they didn’t know the protocol.

You were surprised to find he went by Ghost in his field, and they were unused to hearing Simon. You shared how the two of you met, and how polite he wasn’t in your first conversation, and they weren’t surprised.

You were enjoying your time with them, the conversation never stopped, and you would venture to say Simon looked fond at times. Though, as each man became more flirtatious, his expression would change. It became an unspoken game between you and his team to try and make him speak up about it. He didn’t take the bait.

Then came the topic of your boyfriend.

“Come now love, you’re a smart girl. Why do you wanna waste your time with that bellend?” - Price

“I don’t ken what the situation here is, but if Ghost and the other one don’t appreciate you, I promise I will.” Soap

“I had a girl once, who used to follow me in her friend’s car, sit outside my apartment, and call me from different phones to test me. You’re fit as hell love, dump him.” - Gaz

 It was a little embarrassing, and you were slightly annoyed that Simon had told them, but your mind kept shortening it to ‘he talked about me to his team.’ 

During dinner, you excused yourself to the bathroom. While you were washing your hands, Simon slipped into the room, making you jump.

Your eyes met in the mirror, where Simon just glared.

“Have fun with the boys, bird?”

“Have fun broadcasting my business?” You raised an eyebrow, but your tone held no anger to it.

Simon chuckled, locking the door. “S’not my business is it?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head slowly.

He trapped you between the sink and himself, hands locking onto the counter on either side of you. 

“Let’s fix that.” His lips pressed to the pulse point on the side of your neck, speaking his command against it. “Get rid of him lovie, and come home where you belong.”

You tried to do just that, but for the first time that you could recall, your boyfriend wasn’t taking your calls.

Simon watched you while he packed, tucked beneath his sheets where you belonged, bare. It’d been a week since you took that next step in his captain’s guest bathroom, and you’d been trying to inform your ex he was now in fact, your ex.

You gingerly rolled over to face him, mindful of all the reminders that he loved you he left your body. “Si, he’s still not picking up. I don’t want to do it over the phone, but…”

“Don’t get worked up. Maybe he got the message already...”

Kyle:

He’d re-visited Chicago on his downtime, and met you in a club. Unknown to him at the time, your boyfriend had stood you up for the third time that month, and you decided not to waste the night. It’d made you so free and enthralling to watch, he couldn’t look away.

Gaz spent the entire night with you, glad he’d ignored the jet lag, even when you took him to all the best after-hours spots.

The only problem was your boyfriend, Keith, who Gaz personally believed formed in the bottom of a toilet, and sought life elsewhere. His team thought he was delusional, and/or giving you too much thought.

“You hitting the States again then? Don’t get in the kind of trouble that you can’t get out of because you’re jealous.” - Price

“Garrick! Get your fuckin’ head off your cock, and on the exercise, before I shove my boot down your throat!” - Ghost (after he fumbled a training exercise twice)

Except for Soap, Soap backed his delusions %1,000. “She let you charge your phone when hers needed it more? That’s wedding bells lad, and I wanna be best man.” 

Then there was the relentless teasing every time he spent his leave with you, but Gaz didn’t care. He couldn’t bother being embarrassed when you were waiting for him. Your grin was for him, your excited laughter was for him, and your hug was for him. The one he always held longer than friends do, his heart racing when you relaxed in his hold. Smirking when he felt your nose brush over chest quickly. You were sheepish when he grinned down at you, realizing what you were doing.

You’d gotten him cologne on his first (date) daytime hangout with you. You’d been strolling through the mall, Gaz trying to make you forget about the ugly scene he’d walked into between you and your boyfriend when he arrived at your place.

You’d been so sad, and it didn’t suit you at all. He just wanted to take you out of that environment, and let your real-self blossom again.

His hand brushed with yours, pinkies locking and unlocking so he could feel his stomach dip again and again.

He was able to slowly bring you back, into a little world of inside jokes and friendly culture clashes. Gaz fully had you back by the time he stopped in front of an expensive looking fragrance shop and said:

“You know what? I need a new aftershave, but I’m clueless about shopping for that stuff.”

“Uh, aftershave?” you’d looked puzzled, peering into the store window. “Do they even sell that here?”

He let out a confused laugh, pointing at the bottles on the glass shelf. “We’re looking at it, so I’d guess yes.”

“You mean cologne?” you gave him your first real smile since you’d gotten there, and Gaz forgave yet another correction in favor of it.

“Get in here, and help me find an aftershave.”

He proposed that you guys find the perfect scent for the other and buy it as a gift. The two of you spent the better part of thirty minutes teasing and sniffing each other. Every time Gaz lifted a part of your arm or wrist to his nose, he let his lips brush across your skin accidentally.

“Kyyylee..” you whined every time, making him stir in the right places at the wrong time. 

Eventually you both settled on something for the other, but Kyle slyly placed himself in the position of paying for both. The thought of you paying never having been a real thing in his mind.

“You’ll get it next time, love.”

He treasured that scent, you’d specifically picked it out for him, and he’d savored the look you gave him when you’d finally found it. Now he was in front of you again.

“Yeah, it’s the one you bought me. Did me a good turn with that. I get compliments like they get paid to give ‘em.”

“Who’s complimenting you?” you asked, your wince revealing it’d probably come out sharper than you meant for it to.

Gaz didn’t mind, he liked you as jealous as he was. 

He chuckled, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Just..other girls with good taste.”

Your pout and sharp head turn went right on display in the mental gallery he had of you. He couldn’t resist teasing you again.

“Are you wearing the one I picked.” he leaned down hovering just over your neck where he knew you could feel the soft puffs of breath on your neck. He heard your breath hitch when he hummed, confirming that you were.

“I am, and don’t worry about who’s complimenting it, since you have sooo many of your own.”

Gaz laughed as you yanked him after you with a huff. If he was delusional, you weren’t helping.

This visit was going how he imagined it, and he intended to end it exactly that way too. Finally getting that bastard out of a picture he should’ve never been a part of. 

When clubbing, Kyle kept you close. You both loved to dance, and every song that came on seemed out to prove that your bodies were built to fit together like a puzzle.

He took an interest in your life, wanting to see what you got up to when he wasn’t there. You’d resisted, thinking it’d bore him. It did not.

 He enjoyed meeting your co-workers, and eating at the cafe you loved a block from your job. You even took him to spend an afternoon with your family. Every time he scored a point with them, you gave him this dreamy expression he was determined to see for the rest of his life.

When he suggested making plans with your friends, so they didn’t feel like you were ignoring them while he was there, you were thrilled at how considerate he was, and he got the pleasure of overhearing you hype him up to your friends while you invited them out to do something.

It was you blocking your girlfriends every time one of them tried to push the flirtation with him too far, that let him know it was time.

He decided he would make his move when the two of you were having a movie night at your place. It wasn’t ideal, because that piece of shit was lingering around the place. Kyle hated that you lived together, but wouldn’t let that interfere. He had work to do.

“Kyyyleee.” you giggled, dragging his name out the way he loved when he ran a finger down your cheek to your neck, complimenting your skin.

“Just admiring your skin routine. You’ve gotta share.”

Or, when he shivered, and you instinctively extended your blanket to him. He took it without question, trying not to think about all of the things you could do under a shared blanket. Although, your boyfriend walking in and out of the room, pretending he had things to get out of the kitchen, made the thought more enticing.

You’d invited him to watch in earnest, and he’d just cut you down in a way that made Kyle quickly remind him he was in your apartment, because he’d lost his job, and had nowhere else to go. That you’d sweetly taken him in, and that he should remember that.

He enjoyed kicking him down while raising you up.

Your boyfriend finally just sat at the kitchen table in the dark, fuming. The living room was visible to him from there, but Kyle was glad to have him as an audience to him reminding you of your worth.

You two exchanged snacks and commentary, easily ignoring the unwanted third party.

“No offense love, but beer here is straight piss.”

You laughed, stealing one of the cookies left on his plate. “Beer tastes like that in general.”

“How would you know? You’ve never been anywhere.” your boyfriend snapped at you nastily, from where he’d been glaring at the two of you for an hour. “And why don't you go back to jolly old England if you hate it so much?”

Gaz lazily rolled his head in his direction, body language shouting how much he didn’t respect him. “Mate, you’re being a right prick right now. It’s not like you bought the beer, or anything else you’ve been shoving in that hole.”

Your boyfriend leapt to his feet, fast enough to knock over the chair. “Come over here and repeat that teacup.”

“Blud, that’s not what you want.”

“Kyle don’t, he’s just drunk and embarrassed. Ignore him when he’s like this.” you quickly passed a hand over the back of his, but he just gave you a soft smile instead. 

“That’s his problem, he embarrassed himself. Why don’t you go in the back and find something to do.” He was so effortlessly dismissive, that your boyfriend mistook this for being unprepared to fight.

Kyle’s one rule for his plan was that he wouldn’t physically handle your boyfriend unless he got physical with you. He’d planned to show you how you should be loved, and let a smart girl like you do the rest. That went out the window.

He kept it clean, the other man was stocky, but didn’t stand a chance against his training. If you hadn’t been there, he might’ve taken it further, grinding his hatred of him into harsher blows. Instead, he gave him quick, almost surgically effective, blows to put him down. He was too intoxicated and unskilled to retaliate. 

“See, he just needed a nap.” Gaz tried to lighten the mood.

“I’m so embarrassed,” you whispered. “I don’t know why he’s always like this now. He didn’t use to be. I just want this to stop.”

Kyle shushed you, crossing the room to pull you into his arms. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. You’ve been dealing with this for too long.”

“I’m so tired.” you admitted, clutching his soft shirt, and inhaling his scent (your scent, that you gave him) that made your eyes roll back in your head. He was so solid, warm, and a darker word popped into your mind, ‘mine.’

“You’ve been so good to everyone, too good. Let me take care of you.” he whispered, hands roaming from your lower back to cup your ass.

He heard the hybrid of a whimper-moan, and it had him at attention before you were done.

“I’d be just like him…” you trailed off weakly.

“That’s not possible.” He lowered his lips to yours, giving you the first kiss from him that couldn’t possibly be mistaken as platonic. You kissed back without any hesitation, not even willing to pull away when he started to lead you to the back. To your room.

Hate him as he did, Gaz noted somewhere in his mind how dark the scenario was. The location, and situation, in which he was about to fulfill the second-to-last step of his plan was kind of fucked.

He cupped your jaw in both hands,“Babe…we can go back to my room at the hotel.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to erase any trace of him here, starting in your room. He wanted you everywhere he could have you in the apartment, and he wanted him to come to just enough to hear it.

“Makes no sense. Too far. Here.” you murmured, pupils blown wide. 

Gaz didn’t need to be told twice. You were barely able to string a sentence together, and it was top three one of the hottest things he’d ever heard.

“Yes ma'am.” 

Kyle didn’t doubt you’d complete the final step in the morning, and officially dump the forgotten man on the floor.

Johnny:

You and Johnny met through social media. He thought you were gorgeous and, being John “Soap” MacTavish, couldn’t leave your profile without letting you know. Though he threw in some playful critique.

You responded with a thanks, and a challenge for him to do the picture better. It resulted in a months-long photo battle that quickly became a real friendship.

Late phone calls, video calls, and constant strings of texting built a whole world between the two of you. 

You were the highlight of his day sometimes, especially when he’d been gone awhile. You helped him reconnect with the world after shutting it out to defend it.

The only problem was your boyfriend. Johnny prided himself on being able to get along with all kinds of people. It was just in his nature. Hate was so rarely felt by him, that he always had trouble identifying it when he felt it. 

He felt hate for your boyfriend, and it didn’t take him long to figure that out. He thought he didn’t deserve you. He was always talking to you reckless, like he didn’t have the most beautiful woman in the world in his life. Johnny wouldn’t talk to you like that, he wouldn’t have time to even consider it for all the worshiping of you he’d be doing. 

He’d cheated, only to make you feel like that was on you, and you took him back. 

When Johnny heard your pained sobs for the first time, he’d been halfway through texting Simon to ask for help with a dark favor before he was able to talk himself down.

It was then Johnny realized how much you’d come to mean to him, and that only made him hate your boyfriend more.

Your conversations ranged from anything to everything, but they always ended with you venting, and Johnny comforting. He didn’t mind it, in fact, most times he initiated it.

He realized, he must mean a good deal to you too, because you got all your comfort from him. Johnny’s thoughts mattered to you, and you sought his advice all the time. He hated what for, but he loved that you did.

“He didn’t even like the dress Johnny. I told him you thought of it, and he accused me of wanting to wear it for you.” your screen shook violently as you stomped into your bedroom, sending said garment sailing through the air.

“M’sorry to hear that. I meant what I said when you showed it to me in the shop. Any guy that doesn’t lose it to you in that dress deserves to be committed.”

You sniffed, choking out a humorless chuckle. “I’m glad you liked it at least.”

“Oh, you don’t ken how much sweetheart. In fact, put it on for me again.”

Six months into the friendship, he convinced you to come visit him in Scotland. You’d been having more trouble with your boyfriend than usual, living with him didn’t exactly give you a lot of places to take a breather.

Once Johnny confirmed he hadn’t hurt you physically, he’d switched to coaxing you into coming to see him for a couple of weeks.

“C’mon bonnie, I’ve been stateside more times than I can count. You haven’t been here once.” He watched you do your bedtime routine, as the sun came up in the windows behind him.

He loved how despite being countries away, the moment felt as intimate as if you were with him. In his home, getting ready to come to bed with him. Except if you were, he’d tell you not to bother brushing your hair. You’d just have to do it again later.

You laughed as you ran a comb through your hair. “It’s not like you came here for me Johnny. We didn’t even know each other the last time you were here.”

“So…you’ll return the favor later. Be my pretty tour guide.”

You wound up in Scotland barely a week later. A suitcase full of clothes haphazardly thrown into it.

“I don’t even know what I packed, it's a mess!” 

Cue Johnny, who can’t quit hugging you, and they feel less and less platonic. “Don’t worry ‘bout it bon. I’ll find somewhere for it all to go.”

Somewhere turns out to be designated drawers and shelves, that he’d cleared in advance, for your clothes and bath products. Johnny putting them away himself like the simp for you he is. All the while distracting you from stating how you wouldn’t be there long, and you don’t need all that space. 

“We’ll see.”

Johnny had been coaxing less and less innocent behaviors out of you all week, and just worshiping you when he wasn’t. You were a worked up hybrid of desperation, and restored self-confidence. It was addictive, and you started to lean into Johnny’s touches and kisses. You pretended you didn’t hear his murmured dirty statements so he’d have to try again and again.

It came to a head when you finally accepted a video call from your pathetic boyfriend. 

You were in Johnny’s living room, wearing his favorite football jersey, with him behind you, absolutely refusing to make himself scarce. You didn’t want to take the call anyway, but Johnny convinced you it’d be good for closure.

Your boyfriend started going off, yelling about how you didn’t respect him or your relationship, and demanding that ‘you bring your ass home’.

“The thing of it is lad, there’s not really anything about this relationship to respect.” Johnny slipped around to your side, tilting your head up to press his lips to yours. 

You hummed in surprise, but all of his gentle touches and sweet kisses over the week had you pliant. You immediately responded, squeezing his arm when he slipped his tongue into your mouth as a tease.

He pulled away, looking way too smug, and looking all the more impossibly-handsome for it. “Say bye to your ex-boyfriend then bon. The rest of this isn’t for him.”

You gurgled something like goodbye as you slammed the lid on your laptop, attention still fully on Johnny.

John Price:

Price thought your fiance should crawl in a fire and stay there. Yeah. He wasn’t ashamed.

The man was garbage, and hardly worth you giving him a glance, let alone this much sacrifice. You’d moved countries for him, happy to make your home with him because of his job. He treated it as though that should’ve been a given.

That’s how Price had gotten to know you. You lived in the apartment across the hall from him, and the first moment you smiled at him, John was a goner.

You introduced yourself with a smile, your pretty little hand extended out towards him. He’d stood there, wishing he hadn’t worn his ratty sweatshirt with his old football team logo in fading letters. You looked gorgeous, hair framing your face, slightly out of breath from lugging in your things.

He’d stumbled in his mind until he finally remembered proper social protocol. “Price…Captain John.” He cleared his throat. “Captain John Price.”

Your mouth formed an ‘o’, you were visibly intrigued.“Captain? You’re in the military.”

“Yes.” 

“Well…thank you for your service.” 

Normally, John didn’t react to that line as expected. He’d heard it enough times to wish he had a pound for every time, but that was about it. He didn’t do his job for thanks, and sometimes felt they shouldn’t be for him anyways.

Coming from you however, it was different. He had the reaction he knew most people wanted. He knew from the heat in his cheeks and the tips of his ears, they were red.

Your fiancé, who’d appeared in the doorway behind you, stole his chance to answer.

“Yeah, thanks or whatever. (Y/N), come in here and figure out where you want your hair crap to go. I’m just going to toss it anywhere in a moment.”

“Oh, you could’ve just put it under the sink.” 

“You should be getting ready anyways, we have a dinner engagement.” He adjusted his shirt cuffs, eyeing John like he was picturing ways he could kill him.

John wanted to see him try just one.

“Bye John,” you gave a wave, a soft smile on your lips. “I’ll see you.”

You disappeared inside, leaving the two men in a stare down. There was a silent conversation at play, what your fiancé wanted to say was stated without a word. How much John cared about that was conveyed in the same manner.

Your fiancé broke first, slamming the door behind him. 

“We’ll see if I’ll stay away.” He muttered, going into his own place.

Over that first month, you two got to know each other well. Your fiance was often at work, and you turned to John with your questions as you tried to settle into your new home. You had no one else there, and even though John had planned to decompress in complete isolation, he couldn’t do that to you. Didn’t have a part of his being that wanted to. 

However, as John got to know you, he got to know your fiance too. Enough to know if he was ever going to murder someone outside of work, it’d be him.

It started with small things like what takeout you should go for, or which grocery store did he use? It seemed your fiance was useless.

One day, you needed help putting together your beauty table. You’d come to John, clearly embarrassed, and something told him you’d debated on asking him for a while. Your fiance refused, because you hadn’t paid attention when you were checking out, and didn’t select the construction help option.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me love. You mean to tell me that he never made a mistake?” John was already coming out of his apartment, ready to help.

“It’s stupid, but I don’t feel like arguing with him over it. We’re in an ok place right now.” you laughed awkwardly, leading him inside.

“Ok probably isn’t a place you want to be when you’re headed for the church.” it came out of his mouth before he could think about how it wasn’t his place.

He was so used to being blunt, and dealing out cold, hard facts or opinions. It always took him a minute to readjust to what was appropriate, but by then he was back on duty.

You looked stunned, clearly not expecting that from him. Your arms crossed defensively, giving him a side glance while you mulled over responding. 

He meant what he said, but he never would’ve delivered it to you that way, or at all, if he had thought two seconds more.

“‘M sorry. It’s really not my place is it?” he gestured to the back of the apartment. “Where do you need me?”

There were many more opportunities to spend time with you, and with them, opportunities to point out the toxicity he was seeing. It wasn’t in John’s nature to ignore obvious problems, he got paid to do the opposite. He had to resign himself every time so he didn’t upset you.

With every time he gave you directions, or answered a local cultural difference that confused you, you two lingered in each other’s presence a little longer. He wasn’t going to spoil that. 

Your requests started to leave the territory of furniture building and directions, and started to cross more into trying a new recipe, and how you could do better at fitting into your new home. Your conversations started to get deeper, more information about each other being shared.

There were times where you dropped off food, having made too much, or your fiance didn’t want what you cooked. John loved your cooking as it was, he normally lived off whatever he could grab and nuke, but he threw in extra enthusiasm for spite and your pretty smile. 

Sometimes John found reasons to come over to your place. 

“Share a cake love? Don’t get excited, I picked it up at the shops.” “Just bringing back your bowl.” “I can take a look at that window if maintenance is still laying about.”

And without fail, you made him stay every time. You got lonely, and you still knew very few people in the area outside of him. Your fiance didn’t seem to care, he felt he’d set you up with plenty of friends in his circle. John called them posh knobheads, and you couldn’t agree more. You had nothing in common with them, and you always wound up back with John to vent.

He found it easier to talk to you than he had anybody else, and from the never ending conversation between you two, he guessed you felt the same. The topic of the nature of your relationship was verboten, but that was fine by him. By that point, he was more interested in making you forget you even had a fiance. He really hadn’t even made an effort to do it, it just tilted that way, and he leaned into it.

You weren’t exactly stopping his flirtatious comments, in fact, you seemed to light up in ways he hadn’t seen until then.

Then came the outings. As your fiance got more negligent, you got bolder. It started with you taking a chance to invite John to a movie when you two bumped into each other in the mailroom. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to the cinema, and he couldn’t say what was playing if someone held a gun to his head, but ‘don’t see why not’ fell out of his mouth with no resistance.

Then it was shopping together, or you dragging him to a museum and him bullshitting his art knowledge to make you laugh. He didn’t normally spend his time off being this active socially. He decompressed, and prepared for the next assignment. Maybe he’d meet a woman at a pub and bang out some release before getting back into formation.

He’d wondered if he would regret doing things differently on his next deployment, but that stopped the first time someone mistook the two of you for a couple. That alone would’ve been enough for him to keep his delusions (that he definitely did not have) going, but it was the fact that you didn’t correct them. It happened again, and if he thought he imagined things, he hadn’t. You never corrected the person, just gave a coy smile and accepted the compliment.

Well if you didn’t, he certainly wasn’t going to.

The final time that John could say he only found you attractive, instead of wanting you completely, you’d come to him to ask him if he could drive you to a little farmer’s market outside of the city. Things hadn’t been going well with you and your fiance.

You didn’t have to tell John, he could attest to that himself. He’d heard your arguments in his place, and between the noise level, and trying to make sure it didn't go to a place where you weren’t safe, he wasn’t getting much sleep.

Your plan was to cook your fiance a favorite meal from his childhood, using nothing but farm fresh ingredients. You figured that all you needed to get things on track was a quiet night in, focused on reminding each other why you were engaged. John nearly bit through his tongue to keep himself from bringing up the fact that it seemed the workload on maintaining the relationship fell solely on your shoulders.

Instead, he shoved his bucket hat on his head, and lied about needing to head out that way anyways.

The car ride started out quiet on his part, with you filling in the conversation. Price may have flexed his fingertips in jealousy more times than he could count, but you were so goddamn beautiful when you were excited. It almost hurt to look at you head on, so he gave you side glances to show he was listening.

At the market, your excitement didn’t die down. In fact, it turned into infectious playfulness. You two teased each other, engaged in playful scams to get more samples, and dared each other to come up with crazier and crazier stories about yourselves for the owner of each stall you visited.

Price would die twice before he admitted that he imagined you were on a date a couple times during the day. You never brought your fiance up, and he had to remind you to check your grocery list more than once.

It was late afternoon when you returned to the car, laden with goodies and constructing inside jokes. John was enjoying his time with you so much, he almost forgot he had to tell you he was shipping out the following week. He didn’t know if you’d care so much as to need an announcement in advance, but he felt he should.

 He was worried about you, and he would think of you wherever he was bound to wind up, hoping you’d come to your senses and leave the garbage behind. Of course, he’d miss you…and he certainly wasn’t under any delusion that when you’d taken out the trash, maybe you’d consider him.

“Why’re you so quiet?” you’d squeezed his bicep to get his attention, and he instinctively pushed his arm into your hands, encouraging the touch.

It was quiet for a moment, before you slowly uncurled your fingertips, and placed your hands in your lap. His face flooded with embarrassed warmth. 

Had he gone too far by leaning into the physical?

Price white-knuckle-gripped the steering wheel, swallowing down what he thought was a rejection he had no right to be hurt about, and cleared his throat. “Right. I’m heading out next week, and it won’t be short. Just thought you should know.”

Whatever reaction he expected from you, it wasn’t the one you gave.

“What?” You placed a hand on your chest, and then rolled your eyes. “Well that’s great.”

John gave you a bewildered expression, and it must've shown, because you quickly straightened up and faced forward. 

“I don’t know about great, but it is my job. The one I was quite clear about when we first met.”

“Pull over.” you said so quickly, he wasn’t even sure you’d heard his response.

“What? Why? Are you feeling il-”

“No..just..please.” you gestured to the side of the road.

He obliged, brows drawn tight and carrying all of his questions. “Your boy is going to be home soon, and we still have a bit of a drive ahead of us. What-”

“I wanted to come here because of you.” you breathed out, still facing forward, your posture almost impossibly rigid.

“Me? You’re not making much sense (Y/N).” 

You huffed, and when you turned to him, your expression took his breath away. In that moment he could read every thought you were thinking, and it would’ve bowled him over if he wasn’t sitting.

He felt electricity beneath his skin, the feeling he got any time he was about to do something drastic and dangerous.

It was the little hidden thing in your eyes that he couldn’t place that gave him pause.

“I came here, because I wanted to get away with you for today. I needed to.” you turned your whole body to him. “I don’t give a fuck about fresh ingredients for him, he probably won’t eat it anyways.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “We agreed to start over. And I’m going to try, I really am, but…I still can’t stop feeling need.”

In the looming silence, all John could do was scratch his beard, and try not to look as stupid as he was sure he did. He knew what you were saying, what you were toeing at, but surely you were just venting. You couldn’t-

“S’not right love.” Now it was his turn to look ahead. “Not for him, fuck him. For you. You’re upset and you’re scared, and you're raw.”

“And I need this.” you breathed. “If you’re trying to protect me, stop. If you don’t want me in that way..ok, I’m a big gi-”

“Oooh,” his voice came from deep in his chest, baritone thrumming through the car. “That’s not it. I promise you, that’s.not.it.”

Your fingertips gently pulled his face in your direction. “You’re leaving me…and when you get back things are going to have to be different.”

There it was. John swallowed, hard. 

“I’m being selfish, but..I thought I’d have a little more time with you before..” Your eyes watered. “It’d be one thing if you really were just my friend, but that’s not right is it?”

John wiped at your eyes with his thumb before cupping his cheek in his hand. “No, it’s not.”

“Just one time.”

It was a struggle to say no to you, and that didn’t stop now. He pulled your mouth to his, hands gripping your shoulders in a subconscious effort to prove this was happening. You were in front of him, kissing him back as hard as he was kissing you.

He unbuckled you, and pulled you into his lap, sliding the seat back. 

“I’m gonna miss you.” you were crying now, and neither one of you did anything about the tears.

His hands cupped the back of your head, fingers gently threading through your hair. “Oh, sweet girl. Why didn’t you meet me sooner?”

What transpired after was the most bittersweet moment he could recall. He had heartbreaks and troubled relationships before, but he’d never had to have a breakup with a woman he wasn’t sure he’d been seeing in the first place, but knew that he loved.

He took you twice in his car, before finally, the two of you could no longer ignore the setting sun and had to return home.

John remembered why he preferred to take a girl somewhere quickly, and then spend the rest of his leave in solitude, occasionally seeing a trusted friend. It wasn’t as fulfilling as what he had with you, but it didn’t hurt this deeply either.

He sat in his apartment for hours after he watched you disappear into your own. He didn’t even bother turning on a light when it got too dark, he just sat there, continuing to contemplate how things had gotten to be such a mess. How could he continue to pride himself on being the logical leader he thought he was, when he’d made such a mess of himself so quickly?

How was he supposed to forget you? How was he supposed to forget that he loved you, and that you loved him with another man’s ring on your finger?

The thought of seeing you, carrying your fiance’s child, and looking miserable during what should’ve been one of the happiest times of your life made Price leap from the couch. That familiar electricity raising every hair on his person to a point.

He didn’t know what he was doing, or what he was going to say, but he was moving like he’d planned it for months.

When he stepped into the hall, he paused.

You were sitting on the plush hall couch, eyes puffy, with a death grip on a pyrex dish. Your hair was perfectly styled, and you were wearing a low-cut silken dress that made him want to fall to his knees now that he knew what lay beneath. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, trying to curb your sniffles.

“I was right, he wouldn’t eat it. He got mad and left.”

“You should’ve made him wear it instead.” John’s fist clenched at his side, itching to do what he wanted from the moment he first saw him get short with you.

You shook your head, rising to your feet. “I don’t blame him this time. I didn’t make it for him, anymore than I shopped for it with him in mind, and I told him so.”

You held up the dish, and John saw it was his favorite. His idea of a perfect Sunday roast in one pot. Your meaning was clear.

“I just kept thinking, it shouldn’t be this hard. I mean, it shouldn’t be, right?” you stepped forward.

“No, it shouldn’t be.” He also took a step forward.

“It’s not that way with you.” Another step.

“I would hope not.” he also took another step

You stopped when all that separated the two of you was the dish.

“So this belongs to me then?” he was staring at the dish, but his hands gently grasped your wrists.

You, however, were looking directly at him when you breathed out. “Yes.”

[a-hazbin-reader]

OMG CAN YOU DO A ALASTOR X MOTHER READER WHERE THEY WAS TRYING TO HAVE ALONE TIME YK MOMMY N DADDY TIME BUT THE TWINS CAME AND RUIN PUSHING ALASTOR AWAY SO HE WON'T TOUCH THEIR MOMMY

👀

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Suggestive?, Alastor VS His babies, Alastor and his kids being possessive

Description: 👆⬆️

When it first happens, Alastor thinks it's adorable and can't help laughing at his silly children

He had come back from an overlord meeting and was eager to kiss you, pulling you in close

"How was the meeting, darling?"

His lips are almost touching yours, practically teasing both of you by denying that final touch

"Uneventful as always, my dear~"

Just when he goes to close the distance, you're both suddenly frozen in place, feeling little hands pushing you apart

You both look down to see your twins trying to shove Alastor away from you with all their little might

Their little faces scrunched up in outrage and concern as they try to break their father's iron grip on you

"Oh my~! It seems someone doesn't like it when I take their mother's attention~"

He's laughing and picking up the twins just to squish them between you and him, kissing their squishy cheeks

"BA!"

The second time it happens, Alastor is shocked, not realizing how serious his babies were about this

They're sitting in their highchairs, being fed by you when he comes up to kiss your cheek

His arm wraps around you and he rubs his cheek on you, not paying attention to the warning growls from his spawn

Or the way their ears fold back and they start bleating at him to get off their mother

He goes to kiss you, when suddenly, there's a wet slap of food hitting his cheek

You have to cover your mouth to keep from laughing, your twins already grabbing another handful of food

"Now now~ It's important to share with your pap-OH! That's not very polite..!"

It seems Alastor has finally met his match, running out of the room with his tail between his legs

The third time is when Alastor starts getting concerned, the two of you alone in bed

He just wanted some time alone with you after you two had put the twins down for the night

And you could hardly deny him with his lips kissing along your neck and strong arms pulling you against him

Eventually, his lips find yours, and the kiss turns heated with wandering hands starting to slide under each other's clothes-

When there's a cry from the baby monitor and you both are taken out of the mood, giving each other sheepish looks

"Not to worry, darling~ Watch as your capable husband puts them back to sleep~"

Alastor picks up the monitor and speaks into it softly, his voice usually enough to make the babies fall back asleep

Instead, there's the sharp sound of radio interference and an indignant shriek on the other side, making your husband's ears fold back

"I think I should probably be the one to put them back to bed..."

You give your husband a small pat on the head before kissing him, heading into the nursery for the night

The bed has never felt more lonely

Alastor never thought his own children would turn on him, betrayal truly is a devastating thing

SOMEHOW his children have gotten the idea in their heads that their mother isn't something to SHARE

He has no idea how they learned that

It looks like he'll have to do something he had hoped he would NEVER have to do

Talk about sharing his wife

With his children

But still

So he takes the children for the day, letting you have a day to yourself and kicking you out of the hotel

His twins are obviously a little miffed at him for sending you away, it wasn't a decision that Alastor made lightly

But without the object of their little obsession, then they're back to being his loving little babies

They're snuggling into him when he decides to try and explain why the three of them need to share you

"Now, your mother and I...we need time not only for ourselves but also for each other."

At first, the twins eye him with a dubious expression on their faces, little hands curling into angry fists

"And the three of us, we all love her very much, don't we?"

Then they start to relax and lean on him again, as if accepting their father's words

Things feel calmer when you come back home later that night, your husband and babies all practically glomping on you

Whatever rivalry they had going on before seems to have ended, finally being able to have some affection from your husband without being interrupted

"So...it looks like we're alone~"

"It would seem so, darling~"

He's chuckling and pulling you close, reaching back to lock the door behind him-

"Um? Alastor? There's a bunch of angry guys outside and..."

At least not by your own children

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

[highwaydiamonds]

A pure and unholy SADIST. That’s who chose it.

random word bpc: publisher

Who made this design choice? I would like to have a word with them.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[10:14 am]

(cw: pregnant reader, some cussing I think, pregnancy symptoms/discomforts)

You groaned as you continued walking. What would have been a beautiful day for anyone else felt awful for you, nearly 2 weeks overdue. The sun was shining brightly- which was making you hot and sweaty. There was a breeze- which wasn't strong enough to cool you down. The birds were singing- just more noise to piss you off.

"Come on, honey. Keep going, almost back home," Jaehyun smiled at you while his hands gripped your forearm.

You glared at him, fury in your gaze, "you better not be lying to me like the last lap around the block Jung Jaehyun."

Being nearly 2 weeks overdue was a major pain in the- everywhere. You back ached, you couldn't sleep, you felt every movement of the human inside you, you were hot, cranky, tired, swollen everywhere, and sore. You had spent hours bouncing on a yoga ball, eaten spicy food, chugged various teas, ate viral salads, and here you were, going on your- you lost count- walk since your due date. One foot remained on the curb of the sidewalk while the other stepped on the road for uneven steps to "really open your pelvis." Jaehyun was very supportive, maybe even a little too supportive, in helping you during this tough period. It was him that encouraged all this excessive movement! Lovely!

As much as you grumbled about it now, he truly had been such an angel your whole pregnancy. He had painted the nursery 4 times when you couldn't decide on a shade only to end up choosing the first color he had painted! He never complained about waking up to get you your fast food cravings in the middle of the night and even tried your weird combinations.

Finally your familiar front door came into view and you left Jaehyun's hold in favor of making your way back to your favorite spot on the couch. You sighed in relief as you settled into the cushions of the couch, the air conditioning quickly cooling you off.

"More raspberry leaf tea, honey? A date or some pineapple?" Jaehyun asked.

You sighed tiredly, your eyes falling shut. "Can I just get some peace and quiet please?" You asked quietly.

"Do you want a snack for your quiet time?"

You felt yourself getting overwhelmed, hot tears filling your eyes. You breathed deeply, trying to get yourself to calm down, but all you felt was your body temperature rise all over again as your feelings rose. Your breath trembled as you repeated, "Can I please just get some peace and quiet?"

Jaehyun scrambled over to you in a panic, "Honey! What's wrong?!"

You felt your shoulders shake as you cried harder. "I feel terrible! This baby was supposed to be out like 2 weeks ago. I feel like a hippo, I can't do anything by myself. I'm tired of raspberry tea and salads and dates and pineapple. And you always want me to be active and I hate it! It takes a lot of work for me move the way I used to with my center of gravity thrown off and an extra 30 pounds to move. I always feel the baby moving and even when I want to be alone, I'm not! I can't ever have any peace!" You ranted while hot tears streamed down your cheeks, "And every time we go to the doctor she always mentions that this kid has gotten you big ass head- do you have any idea how much damage a head the size of yours will do to my body?!"

Jaehyun looked at you in pure shock. His eyes were wide and lips pursed. "I-I-I don't know what to say." He didn't dare mention that the doctor had mentioned the high likelihood of a c-section.

"Because it's not happening to you! You don't get it and you want me to do everything the way I used to but I can't! And I really, really feel like if you try to touch me in any way for the next 3 days I will hire someone to kick you in the balls since I can't get my legs that high," you add while exhaling shakily, using the backs of your hands to wipe away at your tears.

Jaehyun cleared his throat with a decisive nod, "I'm gonna go shower. I'm closing the windows and turning down the air for you. Then I'm going to draw you a bath with your favorite bubbles. Can I get you anything else before I give you your peace and quiet?"

"I want an iced coffee, please."

Jaehyun opened his mouth to argue- you were supposed to be limiting your caffeine! Then he remembered the rant from a minute ago and decided not to. He disappeared into the kitchen, whipping up your coffee and setting it beside you along with the TV remote.

"Honey?" Jaehyun started almost nervously, "I love you."

You sipped your coffee happily, "I love you too!"

Jaehyun wasn't sure he'd get used to the mood swings that came with you being pregnant, but luckily they wouldn't last that much longer since you went into labor just 5 hours later. This of course brought a whole new wave of you cursing him and screams- but at least at the end of it all he got to welcome your beautiful baby girl.

[jhkfan123]

million dollar man | coriolanus snow

"you're screwed up and brilliant.."

pairing: academy! snow x fem!academy student

in which: you just couldn't seem to win with him. every 100% you got, he got a 101%. with graduation approaching, you knew you had to get valedictorian somehow. he was making it too difficult.

warnings: slight angst, academic pressure, slight non-con kiss

wc: 1.7k

a/n: i genuinely struggled to write a happy ending but it's finally here

the professor handed you back your test, faced down. she always did, with every other student too, but there was something about receiving it face down that always made you nervous. at least you weren't like some of the others, who constantly left class with their head hung low.

you turned your paper over. 98%. it wasn't good enough. not to your standards, anyway. and it especially wasn't good enough for coriolanus snow, who now was glancing at you from across the classroom, a smug smile on his face. you weren't ever going to hear the end of this, just like every other time he had scored higher than you.

this had to stop. graduation was approaching at a rapid pace, and valedictorian was the role you had aimed for your entire life. both your parents had achieved it, your older brother had too. which meant you pretty much had to. and the boy now looking over at you made it increasingly hard for you to achieve this goal. and worse, he didn't even know how bad you needed it.

you assumed he had gotten a perfect 100. it was the only reason he would already be smiling. it meant there was no way you could beat him. not this time.

you heard your professor dismiss you and for once, you became one of the kids who walked out of class with their head low. you had recently realized how close the valedictorian decision was. this 98% would set you back farther than it should. making your way out, you saw snow approach you out of your periphery. you picked up your pace, hoping he would just back off today.

it didn't work. when you left the crowded sea of people exiting the class, and found yourself closer to your locker, he caught up to you.

"hey 83." 83. it was the lowest you had scored at the academy, and he never let it go. it was aggravating.

"coriolanus, please, i can't do this today" you sighed and finished opening your locker. you put your book away in the small cube and grabbed everything else you needed for your afternoon classes.

"can't what? admit i did better than you on this one?" he showed his paper to you, a big red 100% circled in the top right corner. you rolled your eyes at him and slammed your locker door.

"whatever you want to tell yourself." you groaned and made your way to the lunch line. you noticed his demeanor change. he hated when you weren't up for his competition. it was his favorite part of the day, that's what you determined anyway. he realllllyyy seemed to get a kick of out it. he followed behind you swiftly.

"wait wait wait. what'd you score?" he asked. you thought about wether or not you wanted to tell him. if you didn't he would keep vexing you the rest of the day. if you did, you would have to sit through a couple minutes of verbal torment. you truly couldn't decide what the better option was.

"98." you said, very quietly. just because he wanted to know didn't mean the whole school had to know. you saw a smirk appear on his face.

"sorry what was that?" the look on his face made it crystal clear he had already heard you, he was just provoking you.

"i got a 98, coryo. now please, go find someone else to torment." you urged him away, but he got in the lunch line directly behind you. you sighed again.

"98." he repeated to himself, feeling the success roll of his tongue. "two away from perfect." that's what it seems to be. you were always two away from perfect. there was always something wrong, always something to be improved. you weren't sure if that was your family talking, or the perfectionist inside you. nevertheless, he had suddenly made you more aware of the faults in your recent test. it was maddening.

"look i have a meeting with professor click." you faced him now, which startled him slightly. " and i need to talk to you. i'll swing by you later." you grabbed your lunch tray and headed off.

afterschool, you rushed over coriolanus's dorm. every student had to do at least one semester living on campus for graduation, and most seniors chose the last semester, to live together and be together for the last time. so the walk from your dorm to his was not very extensive. you walked down your hallway, down the stairs, outside, up stairs, and approached his dorm. at least, you were pretty sure it was his. you had never actually been.

you knocked on his door. there was silence for a moment. then you heard a monotone "come in." you did as told and opened the door. you found coriolanus hunched over his desk, his hand fanned over his forehead. he was looking over numerous papers.

you knew the high grades the two of you had achieved came at a cost. multitasking this and a social life was not very possible. you had managed to somewhat pull it off, but it was very difficult to achieve. you had assumed every night was like this for him. study hard, and it pays off. but studying hard also means stress and pain. you looked like this most nights. in fact, it was a miracle you even had time to come visit him today.

"hey." he said, moving the papers off to the side. you never really had seen him like this. he was usually so cocky, such a showboat. but here he was stressed and real.

"hi. look, can we talk?"you stood in the doorway, until he gestured you in. you closed the door behind you. while awaiting his response, you looked around his dorm. there was an empty dorm bed parallel to his. he had attained a room with no roommate. there was a makeshift kitchen where the other desk was. there was a dresser below the window and very basic decorations all around. when you made you way back to coriolanus, he was nodding. "ok. i just want to let you know that i need this."

he seemed confused. "need what?"

"valedictorian. i don't know what kind of pressure you have on your back, but i assure you mine is worse." you began to ramble.

"seriously." he seems dissapointed that this had become the subject of the conversation. "why would i just give up valedictorian to you?" he shrugged his shoulders.

"i'll tell you. my entire family has been valedictorian for years." he rolled his eyes. "if i don't get valedictorian, my parent's would kill me."

he thought for a moment. "and why would i care about that?" he continued to counter your statements.

"because, coryo." you whined "you have the grades, you have everything and i need this because i have not worked my entire life for this to lose." you got more angry now. you didn't deserve to lose to him after spending your entire life studying.

"what makes you think that i have less pressure than you? have you ever considered that maybe the plinth prize is a factor in this?!" he raised his voice now. the statement seemed odd. the snow's were rich, disgustingly rich, right?

"look you may want that prize, but some people need it." you rebutted. you didn't need the prize for the money, but for the satisfaction. so that your parents could frame the certificate on your wall.

"i need it. trust me." he became stricter now. he looked at you with a dark gaze. in what world would a snow need the plinth prize?

"ok well," you thought for a moment. "if i don't get valedictiorian i will have done everything for nothing, and got nothing from everything; from all the hard work i've put in every single year of my life!" snow became more annoyed by the moment, but you couldn't stop rambling. "and i didn't have anything in my way until you decided that everything had to be a competition and you had to beat me, and now you have and i just want you to-"

"shut up." he walked over to you and shut your mouth with a breathtaking, rough kiss. it was completely unexpected, and you fell into a moment of shock. his kiss kept going and you weren't sure wether to shove him away, or let him do it.

usually you wouldn't even have to think and take the first option immediately, but for some reason you let it happen. and out of some world, you kissed him back.

maybe it was all those years of built up anger against him. maybe it was a stress release. maybe you just needed an escape.

but maybe it was something else. you decided that you felt comfortable here, his lips on yours. this complicated feeling of hating him and loving him at the same time. the second one was new. loving him. you didn't have an explanation.

maybe it was the years of arguments that had turned into banter he looked forward to every day. soon the dot's started to connect. you realized how many chances he took to talk to you.

your mother always taught you that boys had a funny way of showing things. a funny way of telling you things. and now it made sense. he had been doing this as a way to talk to you. as a way to get closer to you. you didn't need confirmation. the kiss was enough. you liked this. no. you loved this.

everything became more intense. he hadn't pulled away, and you hadn't either, so you kept going. you felt his hands around your waist as he pushed you against the front wall of the dorm.

you could have kept going all night with him. but you needed to hear him talk. you finally pulled away and took your first deep breath after around five minutes.

"what. the hell." you said through exasperated breaths. you spoke the words to him, but also to yourself. this was not how you expected the day to go.

"god." you heard him mumble under his breath.

"what?" you asked.

"i just hate that i waited so long to do that." his comment sent goosebumps through your body.

"i didn't even know i wanted that until now." you again, spoke to both yourself and him. he smiled at you. proud of his accomplishment.

this was a different type of success that you normally felt. this success in romance felt different than the academic success you had been working towards your whole life.

you liked this success.

[samkerrworshipper]

I have an idea for a smut fic for alexia if you are interested. Reader and alexia are having movie night with other teammates but alexia is feeling extra horny that night and keeps teasing reader. During the movie reader is fed up so she fingers alexia from behind without the others knowing

Movie Night

Alexis Putellas x Reader

smutttt minors dni 18+

Alexia was pushing it. It was team movie night for the Barca squad, a fortnightly affair that had us all piling into Ale and I’s house and couch to watch whatever movie the girls could agree on, whcih was a suprisingly grueling process with the group that we had. Ale and I always sat back and watched, as Keira, Lucy, Mapi, Aitana, Patri, Claudia, Ona and occasionally Ingrid fought fairly endlessly until me or Irene stepped in and told them to just make the decision. Ale just sat back and laughed, they were all like her children and you could tell that she got a massive kick out of watching the younglings of the group quarrelling like five year olds over something as stupid as a movie. We normally settled on some kind of family friendly classic or a super hero movie, marvel specifically because the English girls claimed that DC was just knock off Marvel. I couldn’t tell the difference but I could tell Lucy was extremely passionate about it so I let it go. Sometimes we would watching something scarier or a more serious movie but that was mostly when some of the younger players had something going on. Tonight was no different, the group settling on Up. Me and Irene made our bets on who would cry first, I said Ona because she was a sucker for a sad movie, Irene bet on Ingrid, who was also a fairly safe bet.

Once we’d wrangled the children and gotten them all seated somewhere on the couch I made my way back over to Alexia, she stood up when I got close enough, letting me slide down onto the couch so she could lie on top of me. Once she did, someone flicked the movie on and we all began to watch, snacks being passed around as the movie progressed on. It was about twenty minutes in when Alexia started to tease, I think she thought she was being discreet, or she was trying to be discreet, but I noticed. Noticed the way she was sliding, rubbing herself up against my thigh, how her hands were very clearly rubbing against her nipples under the blanket that was draped over us. My horny little girl. I let her get herself riled up for a little while, looking out of the corner of my eye as she continued to tease herself, I towed the line though when she started teasing me.

First it was just a hand on the inside of my thigh, it was a little bit abnormal but Alexia was a very touchy person so I let it go. Then her hand was creeping, until it was cupping my pussy and her hand had slid up to my tit, groping it with her hands. As quickly as I could whilst still being discreet I grabbed her hands firmly with my own and pushed her head back so she was leaning against my chest and I could whisper in her ear.

“Is my girl feeling needy?”

It was lucky that the room was so dark, dark enough that I could hardly make out who was sitting on the other side of the couch, dark enough that I knew Alexia’s actions were only visible to me.

She shamelessly nodded into my chest, her head tilted back with that signature smirk on her face, quite similar to the Cheshire cat.

“Please mommy.”

I smirked back at Alexia, it never ceased to amaze me how fucking brave she was, we were surrounded by teammates, who could at any minute turn around and ask what was happening.

“Are you going to be good for me? Not make any noises?”

Alexia nodded quickly, her obvious need to be touched eliminating any common sense that she normally possessed, it was so fucking slutty.

“Eyes on the screen babygirl.”

Alexia nodded at me, sitting herself back up against my chest, so her ear was pressed directly on my mouth and her back was laying against my chest.

I licked a small stripe up the side of her ear, smirking a little bit to myself when she shivered as soon as I did it, so sensitive, so fucking perfect.

“I’m going to touch you, you make a noise, move without permission or cum without permission you won’t be cumming for a month, am I understood?”

I was whispering it directly into her ear, my breath hot on her earlobe and I watched her shake slightly in reaction. My voice was barely audible, I didn’t want to bring any attention to us, we were lucky that most of the girls were enraptured by the movie, and the ones that weren’t were busying themselves with their phones.

I moved my hand between Alexia and I’s bodies, moving it down over the small of her back and then slipping it under the pyjama pants she was wearing, very quickly coming to realise she was wearing nothing else below them. It was fairly normal for her to sleep naked, but at team movie night, really?

“No panties?”

Alexia smirked back into me, her hips arching slightly as my hand made its way over the curve of her ass and down to the spot between her thighs. There was already a considerable puddle pooling between her legs, it was somewhat surprising but also not, Alexia could get turned on by about anything, it was sort of freakish. Her sex drive was insane, completely astounding and it wasn’t all that surprising to me that she was now choosing to get herself worked up on team movie night.

Alexia’s teeth were biting down hard on her lip, if you were an outsider it could appear that she was focusing really indepthly on the movie, the two of us being the only ones aware of what was happening under the blanket covering us.

As soon as my hand dipped between Alexia’s folds I felt her inhale deeply, this was a test of her self control, something she assured me she had acquired over the years. Anytime the conversation of semi-public sex had occurred from us she’d assured me that she could keep her cool, I suppose this was the real test.

I didn’t bother with teasing her, keeping my movements as limited as possible. She was drenched to the core and one swipe across her folds and hole was enough to tell me that I was going to have absolutely no troubles having to get her worked up. I pushed two fingers into her with ease, noticing how she jolted slightly at the sudden intrusion. She did well to hide her surprise, disguising it with a very quiet couch that no one turned a head to. I started very slowly, hardly moving my fingers and refusing to curl them against the spot that I knew she wanted them most. If she wanted to get off in public then she was going to be patient.

Her patience didn’t last long, I was setting her up to fail to be fair but I had expected her to last longer than a few minutes. Obviously sick of the very little movement I was giving her she decided to take matters into her own hands and fasten the pace by moving her hips an action that I very quickly put a stop to with a few words whispered in her ear,

“Move again and I won’t be touching you again, understood?”

Alexia nodded quickly, her teeth still clenching down on her teeth, hard enough that I was concerned she was going to draw blood.

I stilled my movements for several seconds before continuing my pace, fastening it just enough to give her a little more. I teased her like that for a few minutes, focusing on the movie as my hand sloppily made its way in and out of my girlfriend. The pace was torturous for her, who was obviously seeking out some kind of release.

When I had her physically sweating, her back arching off against my chest I finally started to curl my fingers, very quickly locating that spot that I knew had her clenching down on my fingers in a matter of seconds. She was a shaking mess within a few seconds, unsurprising to me, I knew exactly what buttons to push when it came to Alexia, a complete open book for me.

I fastened my pace slightly, but focused on the motion of curling my fingers, observing out of the corner of my eye how her face reacted to my movements, her eyes rolling into the back of her head and her thighs starting to shake violently.

“Please let me cum.”

I shook my head immediately.

“Sluts who ask to be fucked in public don’t get to cum without permission.”

The realisation of complete horror appeared on Alexia’s face and in that moment she’d realised she’d fucked up, that she wasn’t winning this battle.

“P-Please, can’t hold on much longer.”

I knew her statement was true, her thighs and pussy clenching down hard on my fingers, hard enough that I knew there was a chance I’d struggle to remove them.

I kept my eyes focused solely on the tv, doing my best to make it look like there was nothing out of the ordinary occurring between Alexia and I. We got enough shit about our relationship, without the squad knowing about our sex life. If they got wind of anything to do with this I knew we’d never hear the end of it, Alexia in particular, their captain, their La Reina. Who put on the brave face every single motherfucking day to face it all for her team, people forgot who she really was sometimes, that she could be soft and innocent and just a human sometimes. That’s why we’d worked so perfectly for each other, she knew that she could be whoever she needed to be in front of me and I’d never judge her for it, that was what unconditional love looked like for us.

“Hold it Alexia, be a good girl for me.”

I watched as she almost let a moan go at my praise, she was such a fucking sucker for praise and I used it to my advantage whenever I could, she was such a people pleaser.

I continued my ministrations, at the same pace, watching as Alexia struggled to refrain from putting herself over the edge, she was trying her very hardest but I knew eventually it was all going to crash down, she could only push it away for so long. I was waiting for her to fail, it was mean but a part of me felt like she needed it, that she wouldn’t ask this kind of attention from me if she didn’t want something like this, something that would push her. We would talk about it later, I decided, when the team had left and we were tangled up in our blankets, we would talk about it, talk about more appropriate ways she could ask for my attention than shielding it with sex, like she’d taught herself to do. Now wasn’t the time though, I was pushing her and she was so close to breaking, so close to breaking all of her self-control.

I could see the tears cascading down her face as she kept her jaw locked, her eyes clenched tight shut as she tried to keep herself together. It was kind of cute, cute how she was trying her very hardest to please me, to the point where she’d put herself in tears. It was then that I’d decided I was done pushing her, she’d proven me wrong and I was glad to admit it.

“Cum baby.”

My voice was so low, so very quiet that I was scared she might not hear it, but the feeling of her clenching down fully on my fingers and her juices coating them sublimely was enough of an indication, if her face wasn’t. Her eyes fully rolling into the back of her head and her jaw finally relaxing as she let it all go. Once she’d stopped shaking and she’d come down from her high I very gently removed my fingers from her hole, relishing the ‘pop’ sound that came when my fingers fully made their way out. Alexia smiled at me dopily, her face still fresh with tears that were a mixture of frustration and orgasmic bliss.

She relaxed into my arms, pulling one of my arms over her waist so she could wrap herself in me, the both of us settling in to watch the rest of the movie.

“Ale’s crying!”

The voice came from a very excited Lucy Bronze, who was sitting on a bean bag a few feet away from us. Her words had the whole team turning around to look at us and I couldn’t help but snort as Alexia buried her head in the shoulder of my hoodie, clearly not bewildered about the idea of her teammates seeing her cry.

“What can I say, Ale’s a sucker for sad movies I guess.”

The group on the floor all started giggling, never having seen their team captain crying on a team movie night. I looked over towards Irene, who was looking at me with a glint of something else in her eye, like she knew we’d been up to something but she couldn’t pin down exactly what it was. I sent her a smirk, which was enough to confirm her suspicion but also give her absolutely zero assistance in trying to figure out what it was.

As the group turned back to watch the end of the movie I looked down at Ale, smiling at the pout that had found its way to her face.

“A sucker for sad movies, really?”

I snickered at her as quietly as I could, she was so vulnerable in the moment, so innocent.

“Did you want me to tell them that I’d just fucked you?”

My voice was quiet enough that I knew no one had heard but Ale seemed a little bit worried, shushing me and pushing a lone finger up to my mouth, silencing me quickly.

“Quiet, movies to focus on.”

Rolled my eyes at Ale’s antics but nodded along with her, turning my head back to the screen, letting Alexia relax properly into my body before I let myself focus properly on the movie.

[dr5amatic]

THE AGONY OF UNMADE DECISIONS ,

a sentence starter prompts list comprised of quotes from the novel if we were villains by m.l. rio. please be advised that this list may involve topics including, but not limited to, murder, death, and violence. change verbiage as needed.

why are you here? you should know by now i’m not going to tell you anything.

seems safer to let sleeping dogs lie.

it must eat you alive, not knowing. not knowing who, not knowing how, not knowing why.

you’ve kept your secrets all this time. it would drive anyone else crazy. why do it?

want to come out for a smoke? might help you relax.

your time will come to be the tragic hero.

let’s go skinny-dipping! i haven’t been swimming all summer.

seems like just yesterday my dad was shouting at me for throwing my life away.

you can’t do good work if you’re hiding, so we’re going to get all of the ugliness out in the open.

if you haven’t made any enemies in life, you’ve been living too safely.

you make a surprisingly convincing villain.

i know what you’re doing. you’re baiting me.

i don’t know about you, but i want to get cleaned up and go to bed and pretend this didn’t happen for like at least eight hours.

i think we were all fucked up from the start.

you promised me you wouldn’t say a word, so don’t.

i’m sorry, what the fuck just happened?

you know, people aren’t going to put up with your bullshit for much longer.

you’re probably the only person he’d listen to.

where’ve you been all night?

i was making the rounds for a while, but i got overwhelmed and snuck upstairs to do some reading.

i’m done with this fucking party, with all of them down there. what do you want?

why don’t you just tell me what happened? no performance. no poetics.

we can’t just stand around arguing about how it happened, we have to do something.

look, i know you have a pathological need to play the hero, but right now you need to stop and ask yourself if that’s really what’s best for everyone.

someone’s dead and you don’t know where you were?

before last night, everything was fine.

i care about you, and what might happen if you carry on like this.

he wasn’t an easy person to like, but he was an easy person to love.

what do you do? ignore your grief, or indulge in it?

maybe every day we let grief in, we’ll also let a little bit of it out, and eventually we’ll be able to breathe again.

i’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.

it doesn’t add up. we’re missing something.

you look like you might need someone to carry you.

i’m going to bed unless you’ve got something to say.

i’ve had enough of your sexual misadventures for one year, thanks.

it’s fucking freesing and i’m not leaving you out here alone.

when did we become such terrible people?

why don’t we get a drink or something? just us. i can’t think straight with everyone watching like we’re a reality show.

i just–maybe it’s because you’re you, and i mean, look at you–but i don’t understand. why me? i’m nobody.

you know, everyone calls you ‘nice,’ but that’s not the word. you’re good. you’re so good you have no idea how good you are.

we carry on as usual, or they’re going to want to ask all kinds of questions we don’t want to answer.

are you going to cold-shoulder me all night?

what’s gotten into you? you don’t sound like yourself.

you’re smarter than this. 

i’m not keeping any more secrets for you.

you can justify anything if you do it poetically enough.

you’re just going to leave me?

i think hell may have frozen over.

when you enter the theatre, there are three things you must leave at the door: dignity, modesty, and personal space.

anything can feel like punishment if you’re taught poorly.

you can’t quantify humanity. you can’t measure it–not the way you mean to. people are passionate and flawed and fallible. they make mistakes. their memories fade. their eyes deceive them.

i want so badly to be so mad at you that i could kill you, but i can’t, so i’m mad at myself instead. do you even understand how unfair that is?

i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i want to hurt the whole world.

why don’t you sit, and i’ll pour tea?

he was my friend—much more than that, truthfully—and that was enough. i didn’t need to know why.

can i help? i still–i want to help.

let me put myself back together and then i’ll come find you.

it’s like i look at you and suddenly the sonnets make sense.

tell me you didn’t do it.

i never wanted you to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.

we have to go back and act like nothing’s wrong. we’ve got to get through tonight, and then we’ll worry about it. all right?

you know, it’s not too late if there’s another version of the truth you want to tell me.

will you rest easier with one less mystery on your mind?

you were real to me. sometimes i thought you were the only real thing.

[stelladess]

I feel like using very powerful operators but your own strategy that you thought of takes more skill then copying exactly one to one a low rarity guide with the same exact timings and operators and everything does.

Ive mentioned before I have played a LOT of yugioh in my life and in trading card game circles there is a term called "netdecking". Where basically you copy another person´s deck (usually from the internet, thereby the "net" part).

There are a lot of reasons why people consider it bad, it being uncreative, stealing another person´s work but the one relevant to my point here is that it requires no understanding of *why* the deck is constructed like it is.

In my opinion the best way to build your deck is to decide on what kind of deck you want, build a cheap but solid enough version of that as you can (konami is making the "cheap" part harder and harder of course but still, on master duel it is still doable for many). And then you play with it. You see what works and what doesnt, you iterate over time, removing cards you end up not having use for and adding stuff that will help your strategy or counter things that gives you trouble. A lot of these things you add may also be engines or staples you can then put into a new deck once your old one has fallen behind from power creep or gotten everything banned, although certain themes are convenient in that they almost always work at least (shaddolls, branded, bystials, tearlaments and zombies are all some of my favorite deck types in part because they are very resistant to getting outdated, dragon combo is another one like that I just do not like using it).

This way you understand why every single card is there. You learn how to use them and WHY you use them instead of some other card. The adjustments you make you know the reasoning that went into. So a netdeck might not be terrible as the first version, but you should iterate on it based on your experience if you do that, and try to think about why the person who made this deck made the decisions they did (I also think this might be a risky starting point because it will likely be much more expensive then the approach I outlined since most really good decks will have a lot of cards that either were already pricy or just shot up in price after that).

If you do not understand your deck you cannot play it well no matter how good the deck is.

I have a similar issue with following guides completely. Watching them and trying to understand why the person who made the strategy does what they do is good, but if you just copy them without trying to get the actual thinking behind the strategy you are just gonna be stuck playing increasingly difficult parts of the game without having had to overcome the challenge to get there.

Chapter 7 is one of my favorite chapters of Arknights from a pure gameplay perspective because it really kicked my ass when I first got to it as a new player. It forced me to see weaknesses in my own roster (no levelled shifters, lacking vanguards, etc). And my favorite map is H12-4 because it presented so many little problems to solve and to beat it was this long process of having to isolate each problem and figure out a solution to it, one that didn't step on the toes of a previous solution for another problem. And sure some of those solutions ended up being "pull for Eyjaberry so I dont have to worry so much about elemental damage" but it still meant I was thinking about what the actual challenges of the map were and how to counter those. But a key thing of H12-4 is that it is a map that no matter how OP your roster gets you still have to use your head to beat. It is the the best boss battle in the entire game by a huge margin currently and I really hope we can get more as good as it in the future.

Anyway I think it is just more interesting to actually solve things by thinking about it yourself. Even if it requires you to use more powerful options then someone who does it with like only 3 and 4 stars and a single 6 star. The people coming up with those strategies are like, experts at the game. And it is far more valuable for a new player to actually learn to play on their own and make their own strategies, the basics, before they can work on gaining a deeper understanding and doing more challenging stuff. It takes time to get to the skill level where you can get the prestige of clearing the hardest maps in the game with no 6 stars or only welfare operators or stuff like that.

[lokidips]

How would loki react if he had an accident infornt of anyone :<

apologies anon, this turned from an imagine to a short fic. I hope this is okay <3

thank you for sending this in!!

Set in New Asgard, AU everyone lives

1425 words. age regression, mentioned diapers, accidents

The meeting wasn’t supposed to go so long. It was only set from eleven to eleven-thirty, but it was well into one now. Loki wouldn’t be bothered by this if it weren’t for the fact that it was almost ten minutes past his usual nap time, and he was beginning to feel quite sleepy. He had kicked Thor’s leg under the table a few times to remind him, but his big brother had leaned over a moment later and quietly told him to be patient. Which wasn’t fair at all, in his opinion. He didn’t even want to be here in the first place, the only reason he was, was because Thor didn’t want to leave him at home alone. And if he was honest, he didn’t like being alone, so that was a welcome decision, he just wished they had fun jobs to do, instead of sitting here for ages listening to old men talk about selling fish.

He had been woken quite rudely this morning too. Thor had slept in and therefore so had Loki. He had been shaken awake, quickly dressed and ushered out the bedroom for toast on the go. Not even a bottle, which he hadn’t detested openly only because he had been too dazed to comprehend what was happening. He had asked why Brunnhilde couldn’t just babysit him, but she was at the meeting too, sitting right across from him. When he had been twisting his spinny chair back and forth, she had smiled at him and lifted a finger to her lips. The chair was a bit too squeaky.

Someone began to raise their voice from across the table and it startled Loki, where he was trying to sit still. He felt strangely wriggly, he supposes he was quite bored. The shouting continued with several people joining in, before Brunnhilde shouted over the top of them to be quiet. Loki sighed in relief. He was starting to get cranky too, today hadn’t gone very nicely. He tried not to be grumpy with Thor, because he knew running a village was hard, but he just wished it didn’t have to ruin his morning.

Loki glanced over at his older brother. He looked a bit cranky as well, maybe they could both have a nap!

He shifted again in his seat, before he froze.

Why—?

Why was he wet? He had a nappy on, didn’t he? That wasn’t right. The nappy usually wicked away any wetness, Thor never let him get uncomfortable if he could help it. He glanced down and barely contained a startled squeak. He was soaked.

Oh no. Thor had forgotten! Loki remembered now. He had gotten out of his nighttime nappy, but Thor must have been in such a rush that he had forgotten to get him into a fresh daytime one. How was he going to hide this? What if the meeting went on for hours more and he had sit here. He was probably already getting a rash.

He bit down on his bottom lip when it started to tremble and folded his hands in his lap, to hide his accident and to resist sucking his thumb. He scooted his chair closer to the table.

Would Thor be mad? No, no that wouldn’t make sense. Loki had had accidents when he refused to wear a diaper and he hadn’t been angry, surely he wouldn’t when he hadn’t even realised he was without one.

Brunnhilde was looking at him now, but Loki was too scared to look up from the table. He was trying really hard not to cry. All he wanted was his pacifier and to curl up in Thor’s bed, it was warm there and his wet pants were starting to grow cold.

At the corner of his eye, he watched Brunnhilde lean over to Thor and whisper something, before returning to her seat and calling for the council’s attention.

Loki felt a tap on his arm and forced himself to look up and meet Thor’s eye. He didn’t look angry, he look worried. Thor leant in closer to whisper, “are you alright?”

Once, Loki may have lied and said yes. Now though, he knew Thor wanted him to be honest, not convenient. He could feel himself slipping more and more and he was starting to feel really yucky. Loki shook his head. No, he wasn’t alright.

Thor just frowned and ran a hand over Loki’s arm, before leaning back to say something to Brunnhilde, who was wrapping the meeting up. Council members were starting to stand and leave the room. Brunn stood too and seemed to be ushering them out with more vigour this time. Loki felt his shoulders begin to sag with both relief and exhaustion.

Thor left his chair to stand over Loki and pass words with the people leaving, all while keeping a hand firm on Loki’s shoulder.

When they had all finally left the room, Thor immediately crouched down to Loki’s level and pinned him with a searching gaze. Loki didn’t like it and looked back at the table.

“Loki?”

His vision was beginning to blur, and he knew he was pouting in an attempt to not cry. But it was pointless, everyone was gone and he just wanted—he wanted Thor.

He let out a sob and brought up a fist in a futile attempt to wipe away the tears that began to cascade down his flushed cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” he heard Thor say, before he was pulled sideways in a hug. It was nice and warm, but he was still wet and cold. He cried harder, not at all perturbed when Brunnhilde sidled back into the room. A hand rubbed up his back.

“I didn’t think a missed nap would upset you so much,” Thor said, his voice rumbling through his chest pleasantly. But that wasn’t it! Loki let out an exceptionally loud wail to get across his discontent.

“Thor, you might want to get him up.”

There was a pause, before Loki was hefted to his feet by hands under his armpits. He opened his eyes and watched as Thor and Brunnhilde took him in. Simultaneous realisation passed through both their faces, and Loki may have laughed it weren’t for how keenly aware he was of how his jeans stuck to his legs. He kept his arms held high at his shoulders, as if he could distance himself from his own mess.

“Oh, Loki… I’m so sorry.”

At the sound of Thor’s sympathy and guilt, Loki began to wail and sob in earnest.

He was pulled into strong arms again, and the large hand returned to his back. They stayed like that for a short while, but it didn’t take long for Loki to grow fussy and start tugging at his pants. Perhaps if he could just get them off…

Thor pulled his hands away gently, before pulling off his own sweater. “Not yet brother, we need to get you home.” He tugged the sweater over Loki’s head. It was too big and hung over his fingers and almost came down to his knees. It hid his accident, he realised. Thor was very smart, he concluded in that moment, even if he forgot Loki’s diaper that morning.

“You can go out the back door,” Brunnhilde said to their left. Loki almost jumped, he had forgotten she was there. “Away from the people’s eyes.” Loki watched Thor nod, before he started to gather the papers on the table. Brun grabbed them from his hands, however.

“I’ll take care of those, you focus on Loki.” She turned to Loki then, giving him an uncharacteristically soft smile and running a hand through his hair before she turned on her heel and headed out the door.

Thor took his hand and headed straight for the opposite door, the one that lead to the back of the village. Brunnhilde was really smart too, he realised as they stepped outside and began their trek up the hill to their cabin.

There was no one on this side of the village, only the occasional rabbit, so Loki finally put his thumb between his teeth.

Loki sniffled and turned to look up at Thor.

“T’or?”

“Hm?”

“Boddle n’ na’?” He asked around his thumb. Thor chuckled and turned to give Loki a smile. Loki liked his big brother’s smile.

“Yeah, Lo. A bottle and a nap, just for you.”

Loki smiled back.

“As soon as you have a bath and get a nappy on.”

He couldn’t argue with that, not this time.

[fannishstuff]

How would Ford get kicked out instead of Stan?

So, a bit ago, @ckret2 posted an essay expressing frustration about the fandom portrayal of Filbrick. Filbrick is often characterized as violently and irredeemably abusive, whereas ckret2 cites some very convincing evidence that he was a well-meaning but authoritarian father - not a good dad, but not an evil person.

This discussion was prompted because ckret2 was considering an AU in which Ford never goes to college and ckret2 prefers the smallest possible change in AUs.

I wanted to link those posts because they have absolutely gotten me thinking about the subject. The following will make more sense if you've read that essay and this follow-up about Filbrick's regret over Stan's behavior. I accept the contents as canon for the purposes of this post.

(For completion's sake, the entire discussion was prompted by a Ford as a Trucker AU, but the following doesn't actually have anything to do with that.)

Let's make Ford the kind of person Filbrick would kick out of the house

Stan's eviction is the end result of many, many years of contention between Stan and Filbrick - an earnest last-ditch effort by a desperate father to get his delinquent son to shape up, and a decision he only made because he thought Stan was legitimately malicious. Most AUs in which Ford is kicked out instead of Stan will just rewrite the Science Fair scene so that Stan has more to lose than Ford. If we're talking "smallest possible change," though, I don't find that convincing. If Filbrick was an unpredictable maniac who's ready to ditch his kids at a moments notice? Yeah, fine, any small mistake by either one of them would work. But if Filbrick has been earnestly trying to be a good father, and just didn't feel like he was getting through? One mistake, even a big one, from his less troublesome son would be unlikely to prompt a disowning.

So, my question is: what "single small change" early in life would lead Stan and Ford to develop in a way that flipped Filbrick's expectations of them?

Personality traits and how they affect the relationships

Let's talk about Filbrick, Stanley, and Ford.

So, first of all: Filbrick wants is sons to be industrious, tough, honest, and hard-working. Those are the qualities that matter to him. He makes them box so that they'll be able to stand up for themselves and others. He fights with Stanley because Stanley is a thieving scam artist. He demands the kids be profitable and successful because that is a mark of success as an adult for him. If we assume that the twins were an unplanned pregnancy, then he also firmly believes in taking responsibility for your mistakes -- in owning up.

Stanley is a born liar. Like, even his playful and friendly interactions with his family involved good-natured lies. (He reminds me of one of my uncles, who was an avid prankster up until the time he went up against me, but that's a whole story that I won't get into here.) I think in order to be on Filbrick's good side, he'd have to prove that he was honest in his own way - for example, by defending people when it really mattered even at the expense of his own reputation, or by refusing to take advantage of someone who has wronged him. I don't think canon Stan would do either of those things for anyone except family, but canon Stan is also convinced that nothing he does will ever be good enough. His last, dying words were "I guess I was good for something." He never until that moment thought he was. We need to make sure that he earns some self-respect earlier in life.

Now we need to find a flaw in Ford to exacerbate to the scale Stan had in canon. This isn't really hard, honestly. Ford may have been the less troublesome kid in high school, but he is ruthlessly ambitious, and as an adult he will steal or destroy anything to get the results he wants. I think that the reason he was the less troublesome kid is because there really isn't a good way that a high schooler can be ambitious at the expense of the people around them on a scale that matters. The stakes are just too low. Maybe Ford put down his classmates to secure a win in a spelling bee or stole an answer key once or twice, but it's hard to imagine Filbrick caring about schoolkid drama. That said, if Ford did have an aspiration - a science project, for instance - that he became truly obsessed with, it's easy to imagine him stealing or breaking things to achieve it.

So, how would we make stealing and destroying things a pattern of behavior for Ford, instead of a single one-off mistake? And how would we make Stanley's good-heartedness and self-sacrificing nature something that is visible to his father and overwhelms his tendency to lie?

Oh, and one more thing:

The big fight didn't just happen because Ford lost something he wanted. The entire Tale of Two Stans is about two twins who are very close to each other when they're young drifting apart over time as their needs, ambitions, and hobbies begin to diverge.

How do we make this separation happen in a way that flips the script?

Ford as a more isolated kid

Ford has a one-track mind.

In order to make this alternate canon work, I want to isolate Stan and Ford from each other very quickly. Filbrick might not be violently abusive, but he does ignore the kids, and Ford is already isolated from his peers due to bullying and poor social skills. If Stan isn't spending all of his time with Ford, then Ford might become more and more withdrawn. I don't think he would even be unhappy! Maybe a little lonely, but he's a bright kid with varied interests, and he'd keep himself occupied. But he might get a little... unhinged.

My Ford sans Stan is a kid that gets into trouble. A lot of trouble. Way more trouble than parents should have to deal with.

He gets arrested for disassembling abandoned cars. He gets detention for melting things in the chemistry lab. He gets stitches and tetanus shots after climbing under bridges, or ends up in the burn ward because he stuck a fork in an outlet. (I knew multiple academically gifted children who did this, what is wrong with you guys.) He might make a weapon like a nail gun because he thinks it's cool, and while that wouldn't cause as many alarm bells in 1980 as in 2020, it gould get someone seriously hurt. And, moreover, no matter how many times he's yelled at or bailed out or suspended or has his privileges revoked, he just doesn't get it. He'll express genuine remorse every time, but Filbrick will stop believing him after a while because he never changes. He never changes because... well. Because he is incorrect about what's wrong.

This version of Ford is isolated from his peers and doesn't have his brother to entertain him, so he's extremely self-centered. He doesn't think about the consequences of his actions and he doesn't think about how they might affect others. Let's say he snuck into the chemistry lab after hours, did an experiment without adult supervision, and ended up catching a shelf on fire. When he is punished, he's contrite and apologetic. He earnest in his expression of grief. He feels horrible. You'll tell him what he did wrong, and he will say, "I know," and accept his punishment without complaint. But, if you were to actually ask him what he did wrong, the answer will be:

"I used the wrong solvent." Or, at best: "I wasn't careful enough."

Nothing about disrespect for property. Nothing about breaking the rules. Nothing that reflects the fact that he is a child using someone else's resources to try a dangerous experiment without permission or supervision.

I don't think the adults around him, least of all Filbrick, would notice the communication error. Filbrick isn't in the habit of asking young boys about their feelings. Even if they did notice it, I don't think they would handle it well; this is before modern mental health science, and it might actively frighten the adults around him to realize that he doesn't understand morality in the way the kids around him do.

I think that if we start with this version of Ford, it would be very, very easy for him to screw up so badly that Filbrick felt the need to kick him out.

Some ways we can reduce Stan's influence

Option One: Stan might actually be worse off.

Usually, these reverse AUs are about Stan being the golden child and Ford being the one who Filbrick has it out for. However, that doesn't necessarily have to happen in order for Ford to be the one who gets kicked out. If Stan gets caught (or framed) for a crime big enough to send him to juvie for a while, or for Filbrick to send him off to a reform school, Ford would be left alone for years - long enough for Ford to develop the habits I just described.

This AU would fit really well with the themes of canon, too. The show is about how, even though family has its ups and downs, we're better together than we are apart. If Stan is separated from Ford against his will, and the rest of the Pines live to regret it, we address that theme head-on.

In an AU where Stan goes to boarding school, juvie, or something like that, I personally think Stan would still love Ford dearly and do his best to support him. Ford would do his best to make his own way in the world after his falling out with his father, and Stan meets up with him whenever he can. They have their own lives but remain friends.

Option Two: The ever-so-beloved Sports Stan option! If Stan ends up in a successful hobby, it might keep him out of trouble enough to curb his more dishonest tendencies. If that's the case, Ford's isolation comes from Stan having more friends (teammates!), more extracurricular responsibilities, and possibly the kind of social life that keeps him busy during school hours. I figure that in this version, Stan might stand up for Ford getting bullied, and he would be listened to, because you don't fuck with the football team. That would leave Ford with neither friends nor enemies. Ford might hang out with the sports kids for a while, but it would be really awkward, since he's just Stan's brother and doesn't have much in common with these guys.

This version leaves Stan slightly less delinquent but otherwise the same as his canon counterpart. Sports keep him out of trouble, might get him a scholarship, but otherwise leave him pretty much intact.

My problem with both of these two options is that I feel like, for maximum effect, we need to isolate Ford in middle school or earlier - I think fifth grade would do it. Sports don't really get that serious until late middle school or high school, and it's hard for a ten-year-old to get in enough trouble to get sent away.

The sooner the twins begin to separate, the better for this narrative.

Option three: Boy Scouts (or something). In this version, Stanley doesn't just have a hobby he likes - he has a hobby that becomes a lifestyle. He joins a club or meets a mentor that has a profound impact on him as a person. This, I think, would be the biggest possible impact with the smallest possible change.

I'm going to use Boy Scouts as my example, even though I can't really imagine Stan joining a troop without Ford. Just know that this is a placeholder, and it could be anything: he might find a car repair shop with a kindly and avuncular war veteran mechanic, he might fall in with a volunteer group, et cetera. If we go with the boy scouts, though, here's what happens:

Stan is bored and frustrated and has too much energy as a prepubescent or barely pubescent kid. He ends up hanging out with some boy scouts, and they do things that he thinks are really cool. They're the first kids he meets who like boats as much as him, and they know all the rigging knots. Maybe one of them tells him all about how to take care of lizards, and that other kid knows how to light a fire using a flint.

He convinces his parents to let him join the troop. At first, he doesn't fit in at all. All of the other kids have been doing this since first grade, and he's bad at making friends. However, one of the troopmasters becomes a mentor to him: this man intentionally gives him attention, spends time with him, asks him about his interests, teaches him skills that he's missing, et cetera.

If you've ever been or known a young kid who didn't get enough attention and then, suddenly, met someone who made them feel included, you know what happens.

Stan would sell his soul for this guy.

Stan memorizes his handbook, he attends all the functions, he mentors the cubs, the whole shebang. I think Stan would have a blast, too. Boyscouts make up bullshit to tell the little kids constantly. They play pranks on each other and the troopmasters. They haze the new kids. The develop complex internal mythologies for their troops. They get up to all manner of ridiculous shenanigans, oftentimes with the help of knives, ropes and fire. Stan would love it.

By high school, he's working hard toward his Eagle Scout badge, and that means he isn't just attending troop functions. For those who have never been scouts, the whole program is supposed to be about leadership training. The Eagle Scout status is one you earn by doing a project of your own - usually some small but tangible improvement to your hometown, such as building some benches or making an improvement to a museum. So, in the Sports Stan version of events, Stan is busy because of regularly scheduled team sports; in the Scouts Stan version, he's spending a huge chunk of his own free time planning, fundraising for, and building his project.

But there's another thing at play here.

Boy Scouts have a strict code of honor. If Stan was a gung-ho boy scout, he would probably become exactly the kind of person Filbrick wants him to be.

And, well,

I think he'd also become judgemental as hell.

Yeah, he still loves his brother, but here Stan is living his best life and being a good citizen who contributes to society, while Ford's out there... drawing pictures of ghost he insists he saw? Reading about mermaids? Catching the chemistry lab on fire?

Like, seriously bro, you need to get a real hobby.

You know how by the end of high school, Ford was treating Stan as an immature and ignorant kid with no real aspirations who wasn't going to amount to anything in life? You know how Ford was so sickened by Stan's relative lack of ambition that he really believed that Stan would deliberately sabotage his science fair experiment just for a chance to hang out more?

Yeah.

Now imagine that reversed.

[whoreanghae]

water ; joshua hong

genre - protective shua, fake dating kinda?

word count - 1.1k

disclaimers - mentions of alcohol / being drunk, unwanted attention, lowercase on purpose, no proofreading, fic under the cut

a/n - just a short fic, nothing special just shua being very protective :) been finding it hard to get motivation to write lately so this is just something from the back of my brain. enjoy!!

“next rounds on you, jeonghan! i can hear my bank account crying from my pocket!!”

going out with the guys after an especially long string of promotions was the perfect way to blow off steam. they always chose the best, fanciest bars to occupy. plus, there was an added bonus that if coups gets drunk enough, you can convince him that he agreed to pay for the next round of shots.

after having a couple drinks that were definitely stronger than you anticipated, it was time for you to make your way to the restrooms. minghao stabilized you as you stood up and less than gracefully made your way to the other side of the room. when you got into the restroom, you stood and looked in the mirror. as the room spun around you, you realized that maybe your limit has diminished as you’d gotten older. you do your thing and head back out, making a stop at the bar first to get yourself a glass of water. at least drunk you was still capable of making somewhat rational decisions.

as you stood at the bar, you half fell over but caught yourself on the counter. a man walked around you, hooking his arm around your waist and holding you up. you didnt think twice, assuming it was one of the guys just helping you out. but, as you looked towards the table they were all sitting around, the only empty seat was your own. now you’re filled with confusion and discomfort. you try to pull yourself away but the man tightens his grip on your side. 

“now now, we both know you’re not as stable as you think you are.”

you try to make your voice as stable as possible as you make an attempt at pushing him away or getting someones attention, whichever you can manage first.

“im fine, please let me go.”

the man leans closer until you hear a voice from his opposite side whichs makes his arms tense, but slightly release you at the same time.

“babe, everything ok?”

joshua?

“not really..”

joshua steps closer to the man who has now completely let go of your waist. he lowers his tone and his voice becomes raspy and powerful as he speaks.

“i don’t want to sound like a douche or anything, but i can have you kicked out of here faster than you could leave on your own accord. so i would suggest that you make a decision before i have to.”

the man mutters apologies to shua as he steps back and hurriedly leaves the bar. at this point, you are completely depending on the counter to hold you up. shua puts a (much more welcoming) arm around you, making you feel secure. you lean into him with your head on his shoulder as the bartender comes over and shua asks him for a glass of water. the bartender hands him the glass as the two of you make your way back to the table. the guys shift down so you can take the seat next to joshua, and you sink into his side as he feeds you the glass of water.

at this point your night had been ruined, and the guys noticed that too. shua offers to take you home which you gladly accept. you both say goodbye to everyone as you head outside and find a bench to sit on while you wait for your taxi to show up. you babble into shua’s shoulder as he scrolls on his phone.

“thank you, shua.”

“hm?”

he put his phone in his pocket as he turns his full attention to you.

“thank you for getting that man to go away.”

“i knew you were uncomfortable, i just did what anyone else shouldve done.”

“but this is better.. cuz its you…” 

shua chuckles as he rubs your arm, making you snuggle further into his side. when the taxi comes, joshua practically carries you to the car. you settle in and he makes quiet small talk with the driver as you slowly fall asleep on his shoulder.

when you get to your apartment, you pass shua your keys and rub your eyes while he unlocks the door and ushers you inside. he picks out your pajamas as you sit on your bed, watching his every move. he passes you your clothes as he leaves the room to let you get dressed.

you call out for him to come back in when youre in your pajamas, and he passes you another glass of water. you groan but he laughs as you take the glass anyways. he grabs your makeup remover wipes from your bathroom and sits on your bed next to you, lifting your legs and moving you to face him. his hands are warm.

when you’re all ready for bed, you crawl under the covers and watch as he puts everything back in its place. he makes everything look beautiful, elegant. even the simplest of motions are incredible when it’s shua. he pulls out his phone to book another cab to his place, but you sit up half way in your bed.

“shu?”

“yeah?”

“maybe it’d be cheaper if you didn’t get a taxi tonight and i could take you home tomorrow?”

“are you suggesting i stay here tonight?”

you give him a pleading smile as you pull back the covers and he playfully rolls his eyes. most of the guys have left miscellaneous clothes items at your house from other occasions, so he digs through the drawer and finds some pajamas to change into. when he comes back into the room, you watch him again. beautiful. thats the only word to describe him.

he slides into the covers and smiles at you as he leans over you and turns off the lamp on your bedside table. the night fades away, as you both fall asleep after mumbled ‘goodnight’s into the dark. 

when you wake up, the bed is empty. you stumble out of bed, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in the right side of your head. the smell of breakfast enters your nose, as you get to the kitchen and see shua cooking at the stove. you walk to him and rest your cheek on his back. 

“good morning, party animal.”

his eyes are fond as he gestures to the counter behind the two of you, where he has two ibuprofen and a glass of water sitting out, ready for you. 

“another glass of water, ive never been so hydrated in my life.”

shua laughs.

“thats not a bad thing, is it?”

he walks towards you and looks into your eyes as you drink all the water and lay the glass down with a smile.

“no, not at all.”

[tomatopers]

...dottozhu...

It's around 3am, Baizhu has come to the pharmacy side of his building to investigate a sound. Summary: Baizhu finds his old Akademiya sweetheart

"Zandik? Is that... you?"

"They call me Il Dottore these days."

"But you are still Zandik, no?"

"...I don't know anymore."

"I see. Well, come over here then. I don't bite."

Baizhu reached for Dottore's mask, only to stop when the harbinger recoiled.

"I've seen what's underneath already, you know this."

"I feel... better, with it on."

"Ah, let's leave it on then. It's perfectly okay. What brings you here?"

"I was in the area, thought I should drop by and see if you've dropped dead by now." (Lie. He was all the way in Sumeru but had a sudden urge to visit the first [and only] person who ever loved him) "I'm looking forward to studying the effects of that contract you made once you've kicked the bucket."

"You don't mean that. If I had to guess, I'd be so bold as to say you missed me."

"Know your place."

"Oh, I assure you, I do."

Baizhu smiled, and it felt like the Akademiya all over again for Dottore. His smile hadn't changed, even after all these years, though... he looked tired.

"Have you found immortality yet"

"I'm afraid not. I haven't given up, though. You know me."

"Knew. I knew you."

"Oh please, you think I wouldn't notice your efforts to keep tabs on me? I haven't gotten rusty just yet, my dear."

The affectionate name sent shivers down Dottore's spine. Why hadn't he kidnapped Baizhu again? It would be so easy to lock him away in Snezhnaya, to covet him like a treasure. The pharmacist was too cunning, though; He'd find a way to escape or die trying. Dottore pointedly ignored the idea that he himself may still have a touch of empathy in him.

"I've been caught, how disappointing. Have you noticed-"

"The 'anonymous' donations? The unlabeled gifts left at my door? The Fatui guards whose patrols seem to often pass the courtyard below? Or perhaps the few times you've visited yet not entered?"

Dottore couldn't stifle a laugh, though it was surprisingly genuine.

"You truly haven't lost your touch. Have you considered my offer, then?"

"You already know the answer. My calling is here, Liyue is my home."

"You could find a new home"

"Zandik, it's getting late. I, of all people, need my rest."

Dottore slowly nodded, turning to leave. Baizhu watched him trail towards the exit, before making a rather impulsive decision and calling out to him.

"I wouldn't... be adverse, to you visiting at a normal hour."

"Hmm..." Dottore pretended to consider it, though he was fully taken with at the idea immediately. "If I have time, I may."

They both knew he would. After all, neither of them had found a better companion than each other.

I like the idea here that there is something similar to lingering feelings, but in the way they never found someone better fit to be a partner, intellectually, than the other. To match with someone as well as they did at the Akademiya was rare in itself, and perhaps they never fully let go of that. Also, as I tried to emulate, even in conversation Baizhu is able to keep up with Dottore, to surpass him even. While it is a little ooc for Dottore to be this civil with a desire, I like to make this capability of Baizhu's one of the things that Dottore most likes about him. The reason Dottore leaves Baizhu in Sumeru is because he can relate to the drive to pursue knowledge (ooc, but referencing the denial of having a little empathy left). While it would be more convenient to lock Baizhu away in Snezhnaya, the pharmacist being free prolongs the memory of how he was in the Akademiya, and allows Dottore to perpetuate the idea that Baizhu has not drastically changed.

[sungbeam]

BIRD HUNT — five

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

▷ genre, au, etc. bat family au, dc comics inspired, dark, vigilantes au, slow burn, ceo/billionaire au, cat woman!reader, murder mystery au, action, suspense, angst, slow burn-ish?, love square??; choi line inspired by dick grayson (csb), jason todd (cyj), and tim drake (cbg), including bruce wayne for choi minho and damian wayne for nishimura riki, inspired by 2022's The Batman

▷ chapter warnings. swearing, mentions of death/suicide/murder, mentions of weaponry, depictions of violence, mentions of corruption, feelings of guilt

▷ word count. 4.0k // taglist. open

« prev · m.list · next »

a/n: i... did Not finish chapter 8 or fix chapter 7, but we ball

FILE_05 : fall where they may

gotham city.

[The funeral ; ten days since your mother was murdered.]

The guilt had been eating away at his heart, chipping away at the bones of his ribcage to expose the most important organ in his body. The ancient Egyptians had once believed that the heart was the seat of the mind; a person did not make decisions purely based on logic, but on what their heart urged them to. And that had been exactly Beomgyu’s downfall as he smiled a little too wide, laughed a little too loud, enjoyed the twinkle in your eyes just a little too much. When that emotion filled his lungs like a gas, he could see nothing but the blurred tunnel focusing solely on you. On what you and him used to be. 

“You’ve done well for yourself then,” he said, his cheeks aching from the grin on his face. His stomach and his chest felt tight from the mixture of hard laughter and ice cream and this terribly well-tailored suit. 

Your expression subdued at the thought of work, and for a moment, Beomgyu’s heart stuttered, fearing he had said the wrong thing. It was strange—he never had to be scared of saying the wrong thing, but for some reason—no, wait. Of course, he wanted this to work. You were someone very important to him. 

You cleared your throat. “I guess I have.” You paused, reconsidering your words. “Well, I’ll probably need to find new employment unless Mrs. Lee has something for me to do, but—”

“Come work for us,” he blurted. It had just… slipped out of him. But there was this thrill racing through his veins and he was not about to regret his words. Your eyes widened just slightly, and he reiterated, “I’m serious, y’know. If you need a job, you’re probably more than qualified for the positions we have open at the enterprise.” 

His knee began to bounce under the table, and the ice cream parlor was suddenly too quiet, too small, as he awaited your reply. 

You licked your lips in thought. He couldn’t read you; why couldn’t he read you? “Beomgyu, did you know that I applied and interviewed for a position at Choi Enterprise?”

Yes. He tilted his head to the side, feigning innocence. “Oh, really?” Tell me what happened, so I know whose ass to kick. 

There was that noticeable narrowing of your eyes and he wondered if you knew that he knew. You were smart, so he wouldn’t be surprised if you figured it out. “Yeah… Soobin didn’t tell you?”

What. 

He blinked, breathed. “Soobin? No, he didn’t tell me jack shit—”

“He was on the interview panel,” you said to him as you idly began stirring your spoon around your paper cup. There were only the remnants of a raspberry sorbet at the bottom. His eyes flickered over your bruised finger tips. When he had asked about it earlier, you had made up some excuse of "being mad at the world." He couldn't exactly call you out on it; he'd once thrown a physical fit and gotten a firm scolding from his dad. “Well, I think he was more just sitting in, but I don’t blame him for anything. He couldn’t have had that much say in who would be hired or not anyway.”

Oh, Beomgyu was going to murder Choi Soobin. 

Beomgyu coughed. “Yeah no. Definitely not.” Totally not because he was one of the heirs to the company or anything. Soobin couldn’t have been older than nineteen or twenty, but like Beomgyu himself, he had been trained from an early age to carry out the duties of a company executive. “And after that you interviewed with Lee Sungjae?” 

You nodded. “Somebody recommended me to his people, and I was hooked up with an interview. They must have passed along my resume or something.”

Now that sounded like something Beomgyu’s older brother would do. But why hadn’t Soobin overridden the interview panel’s verdict? Beomgyu trusted that they made a good decision, but could they not have referred you to a different open position or department in the company? There were plenty of positions to go around. Why recommend you to Lee Sungjae’s office? 

"I'm sure there was a reason for—"

"Gyu—" you cut in with a slight smile on your face, and your eyes were alight again like earlier with something like silent laughter, "—I'm not mad about it. I don't hold a grudge against you or your family or Choi Enterprise."

Beomgyu opened his mouth, then reconsidered. He wanted to tell you, god, he really wanted to. He wanted to tell you it was going to be okay. He wanted to take care of you like you and your mother had done for him those years ago. He'd felt loved and warm and… his chest ached. Dear god, his chest hurt so bad. 

He finally said, "I'm just glad you're okay." Even after I smashed your face into the floor and you knocked your head into my face and sprayed my mouth with pepper spray. 

You smiled then, the corners of which were soft and assuring. "I'm glad you're okay, too."

A grin bloomed on his face then like the spring that Gotham never saw. Flowers and shit. Gotham had all of the allergies, but somehow no flowers. That stuff came from just outside the city limits, but Beomgyu hadn’t minded spending all that gas to find those calla lilies for your mother. 

Beomgyu wondered if you'd like to come by the manor for dinner. It had to be time for supper by now; he didn't like the idea of you being alone in that apartment, even with all the cats—

The shrill sound of his ringtone sliced through the comfortable atmosphere, and Beomgyu swiftly pressed the phone to his ear with a groan after catching a glimpse of the caller ID. You lifted an eyebrow at him curiously at the sound of his generic ringtone—it used to be this one, very loud Green Day song. 

"What?" He bit out.

A chuckle met his ears, followed by Soobin's separate grunt, "You've had your fun, Beom. There's been another murder."

Beomgyu exhaled roughly and dragged a hand through his hair. He caught your eyes then glanced away. "Where?"

When Soobin said the name into the speaker, Beomgyu let out another haggard exhale. He cursed under his breath, hand coming up to his face to massage the pressure points between his eyes. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

The call did not last long after that, with Beomgyu promising his older brother that he would be there in fifteen minutes. He needed to take you home, after all. When he tucked his phone away, you were already giving him that smile of understanding, as if you had listened into the entire conversation through just his facial expressions and reactions. He hated that you knew that he had to go—he hated that he actually had to go, most of all. 

“Duty calls,” you said first. “Is it work?”

He lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug, the corner of his lips curling upward in a sheepish sort of smile. “Yeah, you can say that. Hey, but I can totally give you a ride home. My brothers can wait.”

You laughed as the two of you stood together to throw away your trash and head out. 

It was a good thing that Beomgyu had the sense to stay in the shadows beneath the bridge as he brought his shiny, black BMW to a stop. The sidewalk outside the entrance to the Iceberg Lounge was beginning to fill up with clubbers dressed in their finest and skimpiest cocktail dresses and button-up shirts. Some of them laughed with their heads tilted to the poisoned Gotham night sky while others let their big mouths run wild to the pretty face hanging off their arm. Maybe you shouldn’t have had Beomgyu drop you off here, but you needed to see your father about something, and you hadn’t the energy to go from one end of the city to the other twice. 

Beomgyu’s jaw was set as he surveyed the outside of the club. “Yn, I know I shouldn’t ask…”

“I just have business to wrap up,” you told him while gathering your things at your feet. “My mom had a… connection here.”

“I don’t think you should go alone.”

“And who’s gonna accompany me?” When you glanced over at Beomgyu, he was already staring back at you with that steely gaze. It was defiant, telling you what you already knew—he would definitely drop whatever work thing had come up to accompany you through the Iceberg Lounge. “You have business to attend to, and I’ll be fine. I’ve been in a couple times anyway and the guys at the front know me.”

His eyebrow shot up. “They know you? That really doesn’t make me feel better.” 

It was so odd, you realized as you took in the full view of Beomgyu’s crisp black suit and his gold Rolex and his characteristically chiseled “Choi” features side by side with the outside of the Iceberg Lounge. The silver-blue neon sign cast an almost ethereal glow across his face, like an angel. But angels didn’t exist in Gotham, at least, not the good ones. You wondered if what your father had told you about the Chois were true. 

The corner of your lips quirked upward. “I’ll be fine, Beomgyu. You have my number now, so you can even text me later and I’ll confirm that I’m completely fine.” You pushed your car door open and welcomed the icy Gotham night across your skin. 

Beomgyu leaned across the car’s center console, the shadows now dancing over the pretty shapes of his face. “You better answer then.”

“Promise.” You grabbed the top rim of the door, primed to close it. “Now you should probably get out of here before somebody recognizes you.”

A flash of admission in his eyes. “Hey, listen. You wanna hang out—you just let me know. Like any time, okay? I—” he pursed his lips then nodded, “—yeah, I missed you a lot, Yn. I missed this.” 

Whatever this is, you wanted to say. Because… well, what was this? You didn’t know why your heart stuttered at the idea of texting him and hanging out with him again. Maybe it was the little teenage girl inside of you banging on the bars of her cage, begging to be let out at the taste of what used to be. That was what this had been—just a taste. 

You could only bob your head. “Get home safe.”

“You, too.” 

You slammed the door to the car and, without so much as a glance backward, you made your way across the street and into the neon light of the Iceberg Lounge. But seconds before you slipped into the raging nightclub, you peered over your shoulder to watch the BMW pull out from the shadows beneath the bridge and slowly begin to drive away. 

Less than five minutes later, you were seated in the living room of your father’s apartment, wondering how thick the floors and windows were if you could not even feel the bass from the floors below. It was a marvel; how much force would it take to break? If you ever had to break in, some way other than the door, then how could you do so?

Tonight, your father nursed a little, white and blue teacup with some kind of dark brew swirling in its innards. There was some kind of piano ballad playing in the background and a bookmarked novel sat in your father’s lap. 

“Where did you even get the idea that the Chois were backing the vigilantes anyway?” You asked him as one of his assistants emerged from a secret doorway in the bookshelves to hand you an unopened bottle of water. It was one of those brand named bottles claiming to be bottled straight from the blood of Fiji—or something of that sort. Water was water, but why weren’t you surprised that he owned this kind of luxury? “I don’t really see how or why. Thanks,” the latter statement being directed to the assistant, who promptly disappeared once his purpose had been served. 

Your father took a sip of his beverage. “Yn, dear, everyone in this city has an allegiance to someone to remain alive, whether they know it or not.” He considered the dark surface of the tea as if he could read the tea leaves lying at the bottom of the cup like corpses. “They do not answer to me, so they must answer to someone else.”

“Couldn’t you just—I dunno—look into their finances?” As soon as you said it, you backtracked, “No. Wait, don’t do that.”

He chuckled and the sound always sounded so oddly hollow. “Ah, still attached, are we? I seem to have noticed that you did not take your usual form of transportation tonight.”

“So you were spying on me?”

“I was merely looking out the window,” he replied while feigning an innocent look on his face. “But back to what we were discussing: you probably already know that men with money don’t like getting their hands soiled.”

You cracked the water bottle open. “So they flick their money in certain directions to make people get their hands dirty for them. That’s just common sense.” After you had taken a generous gulp of your water, you continued, “But you haven’t even the faintest piece of solid evidence that the Choi family is allied—or at least—employing these vigilantes, do you?”

Something flashed across your father’s face, and you realized that the warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest was satisfaction. Oh god, it purred and circled in your chest until it settled there upon your sternum. It felt good to see your father stumped for once. (And frankly, the fact that you knew something he didn't also gave you that fuzzy, feline feeling. No, you had not cared to divulge that Choi Yeonjun was most likely the Red Hood. Something told you it was a secret you would do well to keep.)

At the dawn of your sly satisfaction, your father steered the conversation elsewhere. “Speaking of evidence, I have another lead.”

Immediately, that warm, fuzzy feeling was smothered and your posture straightened. “What is it?”

“But you have to do something for me.” Of course, because what was a lead without you doing another favor for him? You didn’t even prompt him. “The Commissioner of police—you know him? This Kim Namjoon character.”

You nodded. You knew of him, and you had even spoken with him, but he had seemed like a nice man. Then again, there weren’t a lot of nice people here. “He’s your lead?”

He scoffed into his tea cup. “No. That man is irritatingly difficult to persuade—”

“You mean ‘to corrupt.'”

He flicked a hand in dismissal. “Yes, yes, to corrupt. Either way, information will not come from him, so I need you to take it yourself.”

Your eyes shuttered as the statement processed in your head. “I will not kill for you, I hope you know that. I am here for my mother.”

His harsh gaze cut across to you and you suddenly felt so small beneath his stare again. Where had that satisfaction from before gone? You missed the comfortable weight in your chest, but now, all you felt was the thick viscosity of blood choking you from the inside out. “This is for your mother, Yn. If you want something, you have to take it. That is something your mother and I disagreed on, and look where that got her.”

The room descended into silence. 

Your heart thundered in your chest, your ears. It threatened to leap out and rip your so-called father to shreds. “Go fuck yourself. And you say you loved her?” You hissed. You ripped yourself out of the armchair, turning on the balls of your feet to get the Hell out of this place. 

“I did not want you to kill anyone, Yn.” 

His voice didn’t stop you as you continued down the corridor. Maybe this would be good. You could totally do this on your own, right? Wrong. And this awareness had you still listening to his words. 

“All you must do is sneak into the commissioner’s office and steal the report from your mother’s case.”

Your feet stopped moving. “And why can’t you just get one of your goons to do it?”

The sigh that fell from his lips sounded tired, but you sensed the exasperation lacing it. “My man on the inside is close to being found out. Plus, I know that you are capable of getting in and out without being caught. You’re more competent than all of my men.”

You abhorred how your pride swelled at the comment. It was hardly a compliment, but here you were, turning back around. Who were you trying to fool? You couldn’t do this on your own. “Fine. What am I getting again?”

Your father leaned forward to set his now empty teacup on the table. “The file must have a record of the casing from the bullet she was murdered with—the one that was found at the scene. From there, we can track down the make and model, who owned the weapon, and such. A lead, as I said.”

You had only been stationed outside the window of the commissioner’s office for seventeen minutes, but the guilt and pity was raging for this poor man. Commissioner Kim Namjoon had seemed like a nice enough man—a professional enough man—when you had spoken with him that day at the Lees’ home in the suburbs. As your father had said, he was one of the few irritatingly stubborn people in this town who refused to be corrupted by anyone. This one was a good egg in a bad nest. You suspected that he actually sought justice and had a good moral compass, and you also guessed that was the reason why there was a massive stack of paperwork on his desk. The man had been hunched over his desk for the entire time you had been stationed outside waiting for him to leave his office. 

“Take a damn break, man,” you muttered lowly to yourself, but also secretly hoping he would hear you and move his ass. If not for you, then for the sake of his own hair because you were certain he was this close to uprooting all of his hair follicles. 

It seemed the dark angel looming over your shoulder would grant your wish, and Commissioner Kim’s coffee cup had run dry. He rubbed his palms down his face, then stood to stretch his back and grab the emptied mug to head out of his office to get a fresh cup from the pot. 

You saw your opportunity and took it. Swiftly, you maneuvered your lock picks into the window lock, then lifted the pane up and open. You didn’t have a lot of time, but your father had assured you that his alleged “man on the inside” would find a way to distract the commissioner should he finally leave his damned office. You couldn’t really rely on that, so you scrambled over to the wall of file cabinets as quietly as possible and began to shuffle through them. 

Because the responding officers on the night of your mother’s murder had classified the crime as a simple suicide, you could probably guess that the officers in question probably got it thrown in a closed case file. You really wished you had been given more head’s up about this, or even a file number, because while the commissioner’s filing system was awfully organized, each file was categorized and labeled with a set of numbers and letters that did not help your timing. 

Why hadn’t your father’s “man on the inside” let you know which cabinet it was in, at least? (Right, they had given you some dumb explanation like “he works in robbery, not homicide." Well, your mother’s death wasn’t even a homicide, so it shouldn’t matter much—? God, you fucking hated this.)

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you picked up the sound of nearing voices and footsteps. 

Clock’s ticking, Yn. Come on, let’s find this thing and get the Hell out of here. 

Sweat began to dampen the fabric of your mask, and you could feel your fingers begin to shake. The voices had faded along with the footsteps, but you still could not find the file—

The door to the office crashed open, the handle slamming against the wall as the words “FREEZE!” erupted. 

Guns were pulled—the barrels of the Commissioner’s and an officer’s in your face, and the barrel of yours… you couldn’t—you simply could not decide who to shoot. And maybe it was that hesitation that spelled out your fate. 

Or it was the commissioner’s order for the officer to unmask you. 

Fear filled your veins like a drug, and that drug pumped action into your limbs, forcing you to do something. They needed you alive, damn it; at least, that was what you told yourself in some weak attempt to assure yourself as you slowly lowered yourself and your gun toward the ground. 

Your mind raced—the officer—the officer looked so familiar. Why did he look familiar to you?

Do it. Do it NOW. 

You flung yourself at the officer’s twig-like legs, arms wrapping around his knees to send him folding and doubling over, body crashing through the doorway. The commissioner’s shouts were loud, but for some reason, he wasn’t shooting you like you thought he would—or did you know he wouldn’t shoot if you didn’t first? The gun in your hand became a hammer as you smashed it across the officer’s face, your knee landing oh-so-sweetly in between his legs.

You got in his face; you knew why he looked so familiar now. “You cunt,” you sneered in his face. This was your father’s “man on the inside,” the assistant from earlier. 

Blood spilled from the gash you had dealt to his face. He bared his teeth. “Doing my job, bitch.” And with a bout of strength, he flipped the two of you over and made a grab for your mask. 

Panicpanicpanic—

You were ripped out from under the two-timing son of a bitch, the both of you heaving for breath as you were forced apart. 

The commissioner’s voice came from just behind you, and the realization that he was the one restraining you had you cursing inwardly. This couldn’t get any worse, could it? “Young, go get cleaned up, and for God’s sake, calm yourself, man.” He then addressed everyone else to scram, before hauling your arms behind you. You heard the telltale click of the handcuffs, your coffin lid closing into place. 

Namjoon nudged you in the direction of a hallway just to your right. “Come on,” he said, his tone tired. “I won’t unmask you out here unless you don’t cooperate.”

But he was still going to unmask you, right? Nonetheless, you cooperated, and let him walk you down the hallway into one of the interrogation rooms. When you had settled in the cold, steel chair, with your hands cuffed to the bar on the table, the commissioner settled in the seat across from you. 

“Would you like to call anyone before we begin?”

You shook your head. You didn’t even know your father’s new phone number, and he had never deigned to give you an outside way to contact him. There was this bitter twist of shame in your gut and the question of why you felt so ashamed to be caught loitered in your head. Was it because your father said you were supposed to be competent enough? 

He raised an eyebrow at you, incredulous. “You sure, kid?”

Your fingers curled into a fist, then unfurled. “I don’t have anyone to call,” you forced out.

You saw the pity in his eyes—hated it. He was standing up now, walking around the table to stand next to you. It was like slow motion. The mirror across from you gave you a front row seat to your own unveiling, as Commissioner Kim grabbed one ear of the cat mask and ripped the entire thing off your face.

a/n: listen... it's not as pathetic as it looks... okay maybe it is

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[ameliawarnerr]

Hi, hope you're doing well. I wanted to suggest a one-shot where the mc had a bad day and starts crying and Jake cuddles her and comforts her.

Here you go. I hope you like it <3

(Requests for Duskwood one shots open!)

-

“Well, what do you want me to do now?” MC asked hopelessly. She felt tied and blindfolded with a million voices tormenting her in her head and not one of them would guide her to a path out of this situation.

Mike looked at her with the same helplessness. Mike was her assistance and right now, both of them were in trouble brought upon by MC's past negligence towards her job during Hannah's investigation.

At last, Mike sighed, “Right now, I think you should go home, okay? You are stressed and-”

“Going home wouldn't change the situation, Mike. We need to answer them.” MC cried out, browsing through the one month old documents she had spread around her desk. “Let's go over it again. May 4, a blond man came in to collect his revised documents. Now, I don't know if I was in the office that day. But he has the documents.”

Mike decided to entertain another round of revision on their end. “Yes, meaning you were present because no one but you could've have given him the documents.”

MC let out a sharp breath. “No one had come in for revision of documents since January. How could I have given him the wrong documents? I mean, there were no other documents I could've gotten confused with.”

Both of them were silent for another five minutes. Mike leaned on MC's desk. “See, this is getting no where. Look,” he straightened, “we'll just apologise, okay? If you feel your job is in trouble, I'll take it upon me. They can't fire me because that's partially your decision.”

Mike had proposed this idea when they had started this discussion and MC didn't fancy it any more than the first time. She didn't like putting blame on someone else. But she was lost. And that was unlike her. It was MC, she always had a way, a solution. That's why she founded Hannah without ever knowing her personally. That's why the group trusted her so much. She couldn't believe she was failing now.

“It's okay.” Mike said on seeing her doubtful frown. “I really don't mind. You should go home now. Rest. I'll take care of the rest.”

MC swallowed her abashment like a solid rock and thanked him with an apologetic smile.

-----

MC kicked off her shoes and stalked into her apartment that she shared with her boyfriend. The apartment was perfect for the two with a cute open kitchen, spacious living room, two bedrooms (one of which they turned into Jake's computer room) and an alluring balcony.

Usually, MC would greet Jake straight away in his computer room but right now she didn't have strength for anything but falling down on the couch. She felt like the biggest failure, tasting the beginning of her downfall.

She adjusted the pillow and stared outside a window at the grey sky. She hadn't bothered turning on the lights. Her head turned instinctly towards Jake's computer room, yellow light escaping from under the door.

Though she couldn't see him, she could feel his presence, feel how she was drawn to him. At last, she picked up her phone and texted him. Apparently she didn't feel good about seeking comfort either now.

MC: I'm home. I'm dying.

Jake was out of his room in an instant. “MC?” He called out in the dark living room, face towards the kitchen.

MC raised her leg from the couch. “Here.”

It hasn't been even a month of them living together but they were quite comfortable in their little apartment. All the time they were yet to spend with each other filled their minds with endless possibilities.

MC sat up as Jake approached her. Her eyes were already adjusted to the dark and she saw most of him in it. His black hair were hard to spot but his flawless skin wasn't. He wore a black tshirt which made MC stare at his arms longer than she intended.

When he was near enough, she began, “Your girlfriend is a failure and she might lose her job so now wouldn't be a bad time to tell her that you can steal money from ban—” Her eyes started to water with the words leaving her mouth.

Jake didn't let her finish her self-degrading speech. He put his hands around her- one around her shoulders and other one on her waist. He hoisted her up and sat on the couch with MC on his lap.

“Oh,” she let out. MC was yet to get used Jake's touch. She hadn't thought his love language would be physical touch which has turned out to be one of the best surprises about him.

MC pulled her head away from his shoulder to look at his face. Jake was already staring into her eyes with concern and softness.

“Three things.” He said seriously.

MC smiled, curious all at once. She was yet to witness this side of him.

“One, you are anything but a failure. The things you did to save Hannah aren't like the crosswords normal people solve in newspapers. It requires skills and training. You did it without training. That's how wonderful your mind is.” He spoke with conviction.

MC's smile widened. She loved how he picked out the heart of her doubt and threw it away.

“Do you understand?” He asked when MC didn't say anything. “I need you to believe it like I do.”

MC nodded, placing her palms on his shoulders. “Yes. I do.”

“Good.” He said. “Secondly, there is no shame in deciding to do something else. If you think you are going to lose your job then perhaps, the job isn't for you. Perhaps, you'll thrive in some other field.”

MC nodded, truly considering what he said. He could be right. “And third?”

“Third,” Jake said, “Yes.”

“What?” MC looked at him, confused.

“Yes, I can steal money from banks.” He said it with a straight face that made MC laugh.

Jake smiled softly seeing her laugh. He hadn't liked the way she looked wan and tired when he entered the living room.

“Now, do you want to tell me what happened or do you want to eat something first?” Jake asked.

“Both.” MC said. Jake didn't directly solve her problem but he gave her the strength to solve it herself. She wasn't going to let Mike lie and if they fired her, she'd move on. “But first,” MC said as she leaned down to kiss him.

A tenderness wafted between them. The slow pace of the kiss was like another reassurance for MC. She wrapped her hands around his neck. Jake titled his neck, drawing her body closer to him with his hands.

Slowly, they ended the kiss. But neither of them let go. They held each other quietly, feeling each other's warmth and increasing heart rate. MC's face buried in his neck as Jake caressed her hair and back with his hands. Slowly, they pulled away. Jake scanned her face for a final time before carrying her to the kitchen island as she sat down, venting about her bad day and he cooked her delicious food, listening to her.

“Do you want me to hack into this blond man's phone?”

MC laughed. “No, I'm gonna solve this one without any hacker intervention.”

But she knew she couldn't live a happy life without this hacker's intervention.

[milks-thoughts]

is the request open? if saw! I want peepaw donnie with baby reader platonic request! I read your peepaw raph with baby child, And I went 'what about peepaw donnie' and i saw request is still open(or not) feel free to ignore this!

okay bet I pull up

what’s wrong? what do you MEAN you don’t like angst?

summary: Donnie’s child is sweet, too sweet, the world isn’t meant for sweet things anymore.

TW: death. only death. it’s just pain

Please Don’t Take My Sunshine Away

Donnatello was a man of science. He basked in it, he also considered himself a smart man. Someone who wouldn’t make brash decisions (that was Nardos job) so tell him why he found a yokai infant and immediately adopted it. It was a softshell turtle like him. “ An Apalone mutica “ is what he told his family when he brought the turtle infant home, Leo and Raph both showed worry to him having a child. Mikey was more than supportive. “ wait- what kind of turtle? “ asked April. He paused “ A smooth softshell turtle. It, “ he paused looking down at you “ They, are a smooth softshell turtle “. April smiled gently before Mikey jumped in “ AWWW! they’re soo cute! You’re gonna have to make ‘em a little baby battleshell! “ he still hadn’t lost his spunk to the apocalyptic downfall, even if his older brothers had. Raph struggled with everyone’s safety and health. Leo’s shoulders sagged with the responsibility of the resistance and the guilt of it all. Donnie was stressed with the tech he needs to make it work. He smiled when he walked off with you. Leaving his family behind him. He didn’t mean to leave them behind.

Despite the constant crying, he was more then patient with you. You weren’t exactly an easy baby, always whining whenever Donnie tried leaving you. Y’know how sometimes parents have those nightmares about their kids dying? he had more then his fair share of them. Every time he fell asleep he gets these dreams that seem more prophetic then anything. It’s of you, you’re older, probably in your early teens and he watches you die two ways. Being crushed by a falling building and..drowning. Donnie always pulls you out of the water, he always tries to bring you back but then not even a shaky breath and you go limp in his arms. Donnie always remembers seeing his younger twin talking to him, trying to bring him back to attention but…all he can hear is ringing. He always wakes up from those dreams with a loud gasp and heaving breaths before sobbing, finding his way to your makeshift crib and just watching you breathe. It fills Donnie with relief every damn time. He always mumbles your favorite lullaby when he watches you “ …please don’t take, my sunshine away… “

It’s funny how quickly people age, you went from an infant with a army of sponges tied to your shell to having your own battle shell made for you. Because of Donnie’s horrific dreams when you were just a baby he’s adding a float to it but…he can’t really combat a whole building. You usually hung out with April or Draxum much to your fathers and Tío Leo’s contempt. When you had gotten your shell, you immediately signed onto a patrol. It was supposedly an easy one, that was a lie. The kraang attacked the patrol. The robots crushing or decimating the crowd with its laser. You didn’t have a change to escape before a pole crushed your arm, panic rising in your chest as you kicked at the hard metal, the kraang bots laser getting closer. And eventually? It found you.

When Donnie caught wind of the attacked patrol he was expecting his daughter to be driving him up a all with all her questions but…she wasn’t there. Weird. Tuning, he saw you, your arm impaled and blood leaking from your ears. Your plastron caved in and shell ripped up. He rushed forward, falling to his knees and pulling the pole out of your arm and pulling you into his lap. You weren’t dead. You were holding on by a thread, shallow gasps filling your lungs as he shushed you and shaky sung “ You are my sunshine…my only sunshine, you make me happy, when sky’s are grey- you’ll never know dear, how much I love you…please don’t take my sunshine away.. “ Donnie seemed like he was speaking past you, to someone he thought must’ve been there….he’s never sobbed that hard, not even when his older brother died. He swore his lungs would collapse from the pressure of his screams, no one could pull him from you. His child. His Star. It took him till sunset to calm down. A hushed shaky sob leaving him as he held you again, swearing that he would be more careful. For himself, and for others.