#Me: I’m sorry uh you—don’t. Have one?

[demonic0angel]

OWO, you take prompts? How about this?

Danny was born a premature and with a heart defect. The Fenton's try to make a clone so they can get his heart transplanted without fear of organ rejection. But they end up making a full on baby and don't have it in them to kill another version of their son just to save their original boy. Danny ends up pulling through and the clone gets filed as a twin that no one noticed was still in when Maddie was in the hospital. So Maddie "had him at home" and went back so he could be medically examined. The new parents feel ashamed of what they initially were going to do and give the child to a cousin who couldn't conceive.

Tim Drake doesn't know he's adopted until a DNA test reveals that the 'Meta' running around Gotham is his 'twin brother'. And the babies he has, that he does babysitting gigs with, are his twin's 'children'.

(I don’t exactly take prompts, but I don’t mind if you send them. Also, I’m going to assume that the twin’s “children” are Dan and Dani, since that seems to be what people prefer.)

“… are you serious?” Tim asked through the phone.

“Yep,” Dick said, sounding like a mixture of amusement and concern, “How do you feel about it?”

Tim thought about it and then responded, “I guess it makes sense why my parents neglected me so much, since I’m adopted.”

“Awww, baby bird…”

“I’m fine, Dick,” Tim said. He picked Dante and set him on a baby chair. Said child stared at him with electric blue eyes, scowling with his pudgy cheeks as if he wanted to tear Tim apart with his nonexistent teeth. Tim rubbed his chubby cheek with a finger before moving away, still holding the phone to his ear as he picked up the other baby.

Dick continued, “Yeah… also, Bruce says that he’s sorry that he checked your blood without telling you.”

Tim snorted, “No, he didn’t.” Bruce was never sorry for that kind of stuff.

Dick sighed. “Yeah, I lied. Sorry. But he did look guilty! He didn’t want to tell you at first, but Jason convinced him so I’m the one telling you right now.”

Tim hummed, picking up little Ella, who was stubbornly holding onto a small cardboard box. Tim let her hold it and placed her onto the baby chair next to her brother, who immediately reached out for her. It was kinda funny seeing how clingy he was compared to his sister.

“We have more information too. We tracked down the new meta and we’ve been looking into his routes. We suspect that he’s living around here, in Bristol,” Dick said. “We think he’s living in an apartment, at XXX on XXXX street, possibly with a roommate named Jazz.”

Tim paused, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he was in the same building, babysitting a bunch of kids on the same street, who also lived with another woman named Jazz. “Uhh. What else?”

“We think he lives on the third floor and possibly also works at a pizza delivery place? Or maybe a fast food restaurant? He’s been flying back and forth between two places besides the apartment.”

Tim began to sweat. “Uh… anything else?”

“There’s a high chance that his name is Danny Nightingale, and Jasmine Nightingale is in on the fact that he’s a meta.”

Fuck.

Tim looked at his niece and nephew with a new light, eyes wide. Ella beamed at him, giggling while Dante just glared.

Welp. At least Bruce would be happy to be a grandfather now. Even if it was to Tim’s secret meta twin brother.

[sleepy-steve]

pt 2 of steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 1.9k // pt 1 ♡

—

november 1984

Eddie checks. Of course he checks. Asks around, eventually to his superiors to make sure he wasn’t going to get in trouble for not collecting Steve. It’s uncommon, they tell him, rare, even. But not unheard of. People die briefly and come back to life. Usually only the one time. The answer should be good enough. Should be. Isn’t though. It frustrates Eddie to no end. Months of wondering and ruminating with the firm belief that he won’t get to see Harrington again anytime soon to ask.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

This time Eddie is on the boat. Leaning over the edge, a hand dangling low to the black water, staring at the same patch of grass he first saw Steve sitting. In fairness, all souls appeared in that general area. But Eddie is fixated on the exact spot Steve had shown off his deep chest wounds. It’s for this reason that Eddie jumps three feet into the air when Steve materialises in the same spot again less than a year later.

Sitting up with a rattling gasp and a look of fury on his bashed-in face—again?! Eddie briefly thinks—Steve yells, “Fucking Hargrove!”

“Christ, Harrington!” Eddie shouts, hand over his chest despite the distinct lack of heartbeat. “Could give a guy a bit of warning.”

Steve looks around, eyes surrounded by more dark bruising taking a second to focus on Eddie, chest heaving as he calms down. “Shit, sorry, man.”

They just look at each other for a few long moments, Eddie standing like a frightened cat on his still wobbling boat. He clears his throat to break the silence. “Who, uh. Who’s Hargrove?”

Scoffing, Steve drags a hand down the side of his face, then winces as it passes over bruising. “Douchebag new guy.” He sighs, settling his forearms on his knees. “His sister is friends with some kids I know. Was coming after them, so I…” Trailing off, Steve gestures to his face.

“What? Offered yourself up as a human punching bag and got yourself killed? Again?” Eddie says, trying not to sound too judgemental.

“Yeah, well,” Steve sighs. “I wasn’t just gonna let him beat up a kid. They’ve been through enough without some dickhead coming in and kicking the shit out of them.”

Eddie feels his brows pull together slightly as he sits back down on the bench of the boat, arms crossed over the edge. It’s not like Harrington was the big bully of Hawkins High, but defender of local kids is… new. “Sounds like a grade-A asshole.”

Steve snorts. “He is.”

“Kids were lucky to have you around as their… babysitter?” Eddie offers, cracking a grin.

Steve rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Something like that. Probably didn’t need me at all. Stuck around long enough to see her drug him, so they should be fine.”

Humming appreciatively, a thought moves across Eddie’s mind, and he can’t help himself. “…No monsters this time?”

“Ha, ha,” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know you don’t believe me, but the monsters did actually come back, which is why I was with those little shits in the first place.” He sounds annoyed, but there’s a fond look behind those bruised eyes. One that gives Eddie a little spark in his chest. “But no, this death was just a regular guy.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort. “This death. So casual.”

A full grin breaks out on Steve’s face, contrasting heavily with the bruises and the blood under his nose. “Well, when it’s happened this many times, kinda hard not to view it as like. Just this thing that happens, y’know?”

Eddie doesn’t really know. Of everything he’s learnt about death—through his own and through everyone he’s met since—this thing Steve goes through is beyond him. Incomprehensible. He nods anyway.

“How many times have you died, Harrington?”

“Hmm…” Steve looks up as he thinks for a moment. “This would be… five? Or six?” He shrugs. “I’m not sure if it happened when I was a baby.”

He says it so casually, so matter-of-fact, Eddie almost wants to double-take. It sounds so truthful, he struggles to not believe him. Even though Eddie knows he’s not losing much by believing him, a small part of him still has doubts. And worries for his job. “You gonna get in the boat this time?”

Steve snorts. “Not this time, buddy.” Something jolts in Eddie’s chest at the familiarity. “Maybe next time though.”

“Next time,” Eddie mutters under his breath, shaking his head. “You anticipate dying again?”

“Well, no,” Steve chuckles. “But based on how things have been… and apparently I’m not too careful.” He gestures at his bruised up face, eyes bright with humour between the blues and purples and reds.

“The monsters?” Eddie supplies, just teetering on the edge of sarcasm.

“Monsters, douchebag guys, car wrecks… you just never know.”

The casual tone in which Steve talks about his deaths still has Eddie reeling. It’s been well over a year and Eddie is surrounded by death constantly, and he still struggles to think about his own. Tells himself he’d rather not dwell, which is true, but it also hurts. He shakes it off, shifting his focus to the bruised and beaten boy in front of him.

“Or… you could save yourself the trouble, and get in the boat now?” Eddie gestures down at his boat with a little hand flair. He’s joking. Mostly. If Steve did have the chance to go back to the land of the living, Eddie didn’t want to take that away from him. Not that he thought Steve was getting that chance. Not completely, anyway.

“Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” Steve grins at him, like they’re sharing a secret. And they kind of were. Eddie wasn’t sure how many people knew about Steve’s semi-regular dances with death.

“And since when have you ever been one to stick to the rules?” Eddie asks, propping his arm up and resting his chin on his palm. Looking at the boy on the grass. His hair is longer this time.

Steve laughs, head tilted back. “Fair point. But if you want me on that boat, you’re gonna have to come over here and drag me onto it.” He raises a brow at Eddie in challenge.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” He repeats Steve’s words back at him, mocking him.

“Well, well, well,” Steve says, tone playful. “Look who’s being a stickler for rules now.”

“I know,” Eddie drags it out, struggling to hold back his smile. “Crazy, huh? Divine punishment for being born the son of a criminal, I guess.” Eddie’s gaze drops down to the black water beneath him.

Steve scoffs at him. “Like you never smoked pot or broke speeding laws in that van of yours.” 

Eyes widening before he can stop them, Eddie’s shocked Steve even knows about the van. Shocked that Steve knows anything about him at all. What world is he in where the king of Hawkins High knows about Eddie and his beat up old van? Even being in the grade below him, Steve had a popularity pull that was noticed by those in Eddie’s grade. Confusion and surprise subsiding, Eddie finds himself leaning forward even further.

“Coming from you?” Eddie challenges back. “We all know about the famous Harrington ragers, Mister Keg King.”

The title makes Steve roll his eyes. “Never saw you at one.”

It was true. Eddie hadn’t attended any of the parties, for fear of his reputation making him a target. He drops his gaze again. “Didn’t think I’d be welcome there.”

Steve doesn’t respond, and the silence grows between them. They haven’t moved, but Eddie feels further away from him. Like the weird little familiarity they’d developed was being forcefully shoved apart. Eddie doesn’t look up to see Steve’s reaction. Doesn’t want the pity.

“So, you really can’t get out of the boat?” Steve breaks the silence with a complete topic change.

“Nope,” Eddie responds, popping the P. “She’s my new baby, now that I don’t have my van.” He pats the side of the boat with his free hand.

Steve shifts forward until he’s sitting as close as he can to the water’s edge without getting wet. Close enough for Eddie to see the broken capillaries under his skin and the little green flecks in his eyes. He takes in the cuts on Steve’s jaw and forehead, the two black eyes, the blood under his nose. The way his knuckles are bruised and bloodied to match. Something in Eddie feels oddly… protective. Like he wants to jump in front of anything that might hurt this guy he doesn’t even really know that well.

“Change your mind about getting in the boat?” Eddie asks, voice low, now that Steve is so close.

“No,” Steve huffs a laugh. “But you can’t move, so I figured I should.”

“Just that desperate to be close to me, are you?” It slips out of Eddie’s mouth before he can think about it. And Eddie wants to punch himself in the face over it.

But to his surprise, Steve doesn’t recoil away or yell at him. Instead, he laughs softly, cheeks faintly pink beneath the bruising. “What can I say? The allure of your… baby…” He says it with a smirk. “Very tempting.”

Taken aback by Steve’s… flirting is the only word to describe it, but that can’t be right, Eddie immediately switches to joke mode. He won’t entertain the idea that Steve Harrington was honest-to-god flirting with him. He won’t.

“I’ll get you into this boat one day, Harrington. Mark my words.” 

He knocks on the edge of the boat twice before smoothing his hand over the wood. Watches as Steve’s eyes follow his hand, seemingly fixated on it. Eddie briefly wonders what would happen if he touched Steve. Would that commit Steve to being stuck here? Commit him to moving on? Would Eddie even be able to feel him?

Gaze shifting back to Eddie’s face, a smile grows on Steve’s face. “Maybe. One day.” He shrugs, like his eventual death is a fun, whimsical topic.

Eddie is about to comment on Steve’s tone, but before he can, Steve’s head whips to the side, hearing something Eddie can’t. Just like last time.

Unlike last time, Steve doesn’t get up right away. “Looks like my time’s up.”

“How do you know?” Eddie is so curious, he can’t help but ask.

“I can hear—” Steve waves vaguely around his ear. “—stuff. From where I am. The kids are yelling. Hope they’re not too freaked out.”

“Guess you better get back then,” Eddie says, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Yep.” Steve pulls himself up into a standing position, now suddenly looking down at Eddie, who leans back on instinct, shifting back on the boat bench. “But I’ll see you next time.”

“I’ll be here.” Eddie gestures at the boat, palm up. Like he has anywhere else to go. “See ya, Harrington. Stay away from monsters.”

“I’ll try,” Steve laughs, walking backwards on the grass. Keeping his eyes on Eddie as he retreats.

“Try not to get that pretty face bashed in again,” Eddie calls after Steve’s already fading form, grinning wide.

Steve just laughs, the sound of it echoing even after his body disappears from Eddie’s sight.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT simping

Requested? Yes!��

Request: 'Can you do svt simping for you?'

Seungcheol

So obvious. At some point, he won’t even try to deny or hide it. Unabashedly into you and will say it to your face and anyone else’s, even if he flushes a little when he does. He pouts and sulks for literally everyone else, but it will be doubled with you. Really just wants all of your attention 24/7 even if he’s sometimes too proud to say so. Please simp back. 

Jeonghan

I’m sorry, but you will never catch him simping. He’s too smooth for that. It’s all smug looks and cool exteriors when he’s around you. But if only anyone knew that he has notifications on for all of your socials when you post. Or has set his phone to vibrate or ring differently when it’s you that reaches out to him so he’s sure not to miss it. Or knows your phone number by heart in case something ever happens to his phone and he loses it. Will firmly deny any of these simping allegations if they’re brought to his attention. 

Joshua

Have you ever opened a door for yourself? Or pulled your own chair out? Or buckled your own seatbelt? I know, I know, he’s truly just a gentleman, but he works overtime on it when it comes to you. I don’t think anyone can even make fun of him for it because he wouldn’t pay attention to any teasing anyway. He’s way too busy seeing what you need next. 

Jun

Does not hear anyone else when you’re talking in a conversation. In fact, gets a little irritated if someone else is talking too long and keeping him from hearing your voice. Will absolutely not be subtle when he turns to you and goes, “oh well, anyway, what were you saying?” Just to make it your turn again. 

Hoshi

The opposite of Jun. Sometimes does not hear a word you say. His eyes glaze over, too busy looking at your features. He really, really tries sometimes to listen, but if he gets distracted a lot of the noise is muffled by his own internal screaming of ‘what do you mean they’re talking to me?? What do you mean they’re mine???’ Down bad. 

Wonwoo

Ooo talk about preferential treatment. I have this image that Mingyu could ask him to go do something with him and he’ll flat out say no, but five minutes later you ask him to do the very same thing and he’ll get a little heart-eyed and say sure. Makes Mingyu’s head explode and the whole group chat will know just how down bad Wonu is, but he’s totally unfazed by it. 

Woozi

No one will ever know if it’s in a public facet. Super private about it, but in said private setting, someone might witness him babying you and waiting on you, calling you sweet nicknames, all with a super cheesy smile. It really warms his group members hearts if they ever see it so they’ll never say anything bad about it. Plus, they’re scared of him so…

DK

There was never any doubt that he was a simp. Might as well tell you, ‘I’m a simp’. Glued to your side and hooked on your every word. If his group members, or even you, say something about it, he’ll smile and nod, going ‘uh huh. What about it?’ Permanent heart eyes. 

Mingyu

Might try to be strong, but will fail miserably. Might try to deny the simping allegations from his group members and might even pout about it, because he is not a simp!!! But then you call or come up to him and say ‘Mingyu, can you help me with this?’ And he’s flying out of his seat. Really, all you have to do is need him and he’s folding, accepting any teasing that is most certainly coming his way. 

Minghao

Another subtle one, but it’s still definitely there. It’s in how he chooses to spend his free time with you instead of by himself or with his group members and other friends. But the dead giveaway is how he looks at you when you talk. You know how Jeonghan might get a little gaslighty sometimes? Minghao will definitely take a page out of his book, saying ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, it’s rude to not look at someone when they talk.’ Super soft about you and tries to be super secretive about it. 

Seungkwan

It is so obvious with how he lets you get away with anything. Did something embarrassing? He will eventually let you live it down. Call him when he is busy? Acts irritated and is far from it. You cheat at a game with Jeonghan? He’s not even that mad because you look happy to have won, albeit unfairly. The members will call him out for it sometimes and he’ll turn his wrath to them instead. They will never get away with anything if they directly address his simping behavior. 

Vernon

Now I think he might like a pretty significant amount of alone time. So it’s a huge sign for his group members when he spends most of that time usually reserved for alone time with you instead. It’s the days off that he’ll spend sun up to sun down with you doing whatever. Or the late night phone calls that last hours while he wears a bit of a dopey smile. If his group members call him a simp, he’ll shrug and say okay. Totally unbothered to be that. 

Chan

Totally obvious by how he never lets you breathe. Constantly drowning you in physical affection and compliments. Will look a little faint if you ever seem shy about any of this, but especially if you dish it out as well. I know I said this earlier, but please simp back. It would annoy his group members so much!!!

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups

I am demanding my smooches now.

@beloveds-embrace @cherrycosmos392 @mxtallymarks @love-kha1

CW: Asshole Simon and Johnny using you for sex instead of each other. Calling out someone else's name during sex. Pregnancy mentioned. Death of a spouse mentioned.

Simon slipped. Well. Simon slipped first. Johnny slipped up too. They ruined you, tugging you between them instead of reaching out for the other. You couldn’t fathom them caring. Even now.

If they cared about you they wouldn’t have touched you. You had been twenty-four and still so young. God, you were thirty now and still felt like you didn’t have a handle on life. Johnny had been twenty-nine and Simon thirty-three. Old enough to know better. At least to know better than you.

A series of coincidences led you to a one-year work visa and as an American transfer under the 141 task force. You handled paperwork mostly, and whatever didn’t involve paperwork meant dealing with your counterparts back in DC. You keep slightly funny hours to stay working on Washington time but that wasn’t unusual for anyone else who shared your building. The lights stayed at a low dim all day and night because three pm and three am felt a lot alike when rolling in off a job.

You were a nodding professional with Captain Price, Lieutenant Sanderson, and Sergeant Garrick. Sergeant MacTavish flirted with you. You accepted it with a wary eye and a cool confirmation of what he meant each time. Lieutenant Riley watched. He never spoke to you unless he needed something until the night in the bar. Six months had elapsed on your visa when Gaz, as he had asked you to call him, invited you to the bar with everyone. Seeing no reason to not say yes you had gone.

Off base and with a little buzz in your veins you let Johnny flirt. He insisted on his first name as he sidled up close to you halfway through your first drink. You’d always been wary of Johnny’s flirting. He’s attractive with all the muscles he maintains for work, the air of danger that lingers around him like cologne, and that barely visible scar near his lip. Problem is he knows it. Or at least he knows people react to him with pretty privilege. He makes you laugh. You don’t know why it surprises you, of course, he had to have a good sense of humor to deal with his job.

Lieutenant Riley was watching again. The prickling of your senses that tells you a predator is watching is what gave it away. Staying at the bar smiling at Johnny seemed safer until you had to pee. Passing your cup to the bartender with a quick ‘I’m done with this’ you excuse yourself from the bar and wend your way around the nearly touching tables to find the bathroom.

The narrow wood-paneled hallway had a single bulb shining down on you from a sconce high on the wall. Taking the time to dry your hands completely you pause when you see that the hallway has gone dark. Diffusing light from the main room reaches only so far into the darkness. Scanning you see nothing out of the ordinary and let the crack of light from the bathroom disappear as the door settles closed.

Running the tips of your fingers over the wall, the bumps telling the tales of so many decades of drunken bathroom trips, you touch something that is made of steel and flesh. Jumping back with a squeak you search with your gaze for anything.

“Why does Johnny like you?”

Riley. You let out the breath you had been holding. It’s Lieutenant Riley, not someone who would hurt you.

“You know sir I have no idea. Do you know?” You aimed your voice up.

“I might have an idea.” He surprises you with a touch to your neck. Trailing up to your jaw before dry lips brush against yours.

Stepping back you gave a startled exclamation.

“Ah…uh..Excuse me, Lieutenant, I think I need to go home.”

Skirting around him you flee like a hare that caught the sense of a hawk in the sky. When you retrieve your purse from the chair next to Johnny you find a beautiful woman draped across it talking him up.

“Sorry, I just need my bag,” you said drawing both of their attention to you.

“Ah, bonnie,” Johnny started sadly, “Heading out so soon?”

“Yeah um,” you scratch the back of your head, low near your hairline. “I need to head home.”

Standing he ignored the woman flirting with him entirely.

“Let me walk you home?” He steps too close to you but the body in a chair directly behind your ass keeps you from moving for more space.

Glancing to the storm brewing in the woman’s face you try and redirect him.

“I mean you looked like you were having such a good conversation I’m gonna go wait for a cab. Thank you for the offer though. I will see you at the office tomorrow.” With that you scooted past, unsure how you felt about the full body contact required.

Okay, well your lady bits knew exactly how they felt about it but you as a person? You were unsure. It felt like you had been dropped into a game that you didn’t know the rules of. It continued on like that, them pushing you and breaking your boundaries down one touch at a time until Simon pounded into you from behind in a supply closet. You crept closer to that temporary oblivion when Simon slipped.

A guttural moan washed over your back, Simon’s fingers tightening down on your hips.

“Johnny, oh Johnny!” He came then with Johnny’s name on his lips.

Any chance of an orgasm on your end dried up like a puddle on concrete in direct sun. Simon didn’t notice, pulling out and cleaning up the mess he had made of you before pulling you up and then your underwear. He gave your ass a light tap and planted a kiss at your temple before leaving you to the scent of cleaning supplies.

You worked the day in the eye of a storm. Mentally reaching out to touch your emotions you found only a torrent of fast-moving thoughts and feelings. You made it to your flat before the pressure of the eye wall faulted, crushing you under its weight. The next week you had a hard time eating, focusing, and doing anything outside of work really. Work had you hyper-vigilant always on watch for the spooky silent lieutenant that might try to pull you into a dark room. You didn’t think you could survive another encounter with Johnny’s name on his lips.

Oddly enough Johnny noticed the distress you seemed to be under and took to feeding you. He dropped off a snack at your desk every day and chatted with/at you until you ate it all before disappearing into the bowels of the building again. Three weeks after the Simon incident as you had taken to calling it in your head Johnny had pulled the same shit.

Flat on your back, knees nearly touching your ears he rammed into you. Pleasure crested for you as he could no longer hold on.

“Simon,” the breathy whisper betrayed him. He must have thought you to far gone in your orgasm to hear him.

They had to be fucking kidding you.

Would it hurt less if they were kidding you?

How the hell were you supposed to deal with this happening to you twice?

Johnny pulled out and flopped face down on his bed beside you.

Sitting up slowly you lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna use the hall bathroom to go pee. I’ll probably be a minute.”

He grunts his acknowledgment and you set your exit strategy into action. Johnny knew you preferred to put your clothes back on for cuddles if you left the bed for any reason. Grabbing up all of your items you stepped from his bedroom hugging your clothes so tight the zipper of your jeans bit into the side of your breast. Peeing and washing your hands you dressed.

Stepping from the bathroom you called down the hall to Johnny.

“Do you have any cheese or nuts?”

“In the cabinet or the fridge,” came his return call.

Good. He wouldn’t think some odd sounds coming from this direction odd then. Tying your shoes on you open and shut a couple of cupboards and the fridge before rattling the dishes in the dishwasher grabbing your purse and leaving his flat.

Johnny didn’t come after you if he noticed your absence. Arriving home you noted the time. It was four pm on a Friday, Captain Price would still be at the office doing paperwork.

You called him as you started packing.

“Price.”

“Hi, Captain. I am just calling to let you know there has been a family emergency back home and I will be hopping on a plane tonight. I don’t know when this will be resolved. Can you send me any paperwork that I will need to complete so my work visa will close out as it should?”

“I’m sorry to hear about the family emergency, you let me know if you need anything. Your contract will run its course, including the agreed-upon pay, and conclude the day before your visa expires. The only thing you will need to worry about is talking to an accountant out here to figure out your share of taxes to be paid.”

Captain Price had always been like that with you, straightforward and honest. Unlike his men.

“That sounds reasonable and doable. If you have a recommendation of a firm I can reach out to that would be immensely helpful,” you stare at your shoe options, deciding which ones to leave behind since your bag was getting too full with the haphazard way you filled it.

“I don’t have one off the top of my head but I will ask around. Will this number still work?”

“No, this is a UK number that will probably stop working somewhere over the Atlantic. Can you send the info to my work email? I will be able to access that until my visa expires right?”

“That is correct. I will send it there. Safe travels and thank you for all of your hard work with us.”

“Of course, and thank you for being a good captain and a good man to work with.” You ended the call before he could think to question the sentence.

A call to the cab company came next. With the car ordered you left a voicemail for your landlord telling him the same information, family emergency feel free to rent the flat out now. It was a furnished option so nothing here that held an emotional attachment would fit in your suitcase.

The only thing you left behind was a framed photo of you standing with all the guys at a party face down on the table. Anything else you weren’t taking got bagged and sent to the bins.

You cried at the airport, and on the plane, and waiting for your sibling to come and save you from the airport. Telling someone that you had been coming would have been smart, but the only goal was to escape. When they arrived Ash gave you the biggest hug which started your crying all over again. You stayed with them and their partner as you tried to piece your life back together.

Taking the month you still received pay from England you walked the trails of the mountains you called home. They brought you so much peace, like hiding in the skirts of a trusted mother. When you reestablished care with your midwives you found out that your arm implant birth control needed changing, it was overdue. Standard procedure for a well-woman check included peeing in a cup.

“Are you aware that you are pregnant?”

The thin nurse midwife with wrinkles, a long dusty brown braid, and beaded necklaces ringing her neck looked at you from the computer. You must have gone white as a sheet because she reacted by having you lay on the floor, elevating your feet, and calling for assistance. Your uterus had been achy. That’s why you scheduled the appointment.

Pregnant? You weren’t nauseous or overly emotional, only a little tired and achy. This was nothing like being pregnant on TV.

Fuck. That meant Johnny or Simon had to be the father.

Did you even want to keep this pregnancy?

Another nurse with a kind face joined you and your nurse in the room, dragging in a portable ultrasound machine.

“Hi dear, this is a bit of standard procedure. There are a few reasons that a pregnancy test can pop positive. We want to rule out some of the harder-to-care-for options. Do you think we can help you stand and get on the bed?”

At your nod the nice nurses helped you to your feet and held on as you climbed onto the bed, laying back. They had you move your shirt and your pants and undies until the top of your pubes were visible. A grainy image appeared on the screen as the nurse glided the probe to and fro in the slimy gel.

“Alright, this here,” she pointed to a roundish object, “is your left ovary. That looks good. This will help me find your uterus.”

She slid down pressing slightly harder into you.

“Here is your uterus and there looks like one, two little embryos.” She pointed with her finger at each little dot.

“Twins?” you whisper, shocked and aghast.

“That’s what it looks like but things this early can change.” She slid the wand further, “Since we are here I am going to check out your right ovary as well and then we will get you cleaned up and discuss your options.”

The options included waiting, keeping, or a self-managed abortion which included a few prescriptions. They gave you a page of information for each option and sent you on your way with a follow-up appointment scheduled for a few weeks.

In shock, you called your best friend first. Larsen had become your best friend in the second grade and you two had stuck it out through thick and thin.

You told him everything. The entire story. No one else knew everything that had happened. Now Larsen did.

He offered to marry you.

You knew he was good for it. Larsen had never fallen in love, found the idea repulsive. The love you and he held for each other was deep and special, but not romantic. Marriage to Larsen would provide safety and stability, and the ability to change your name before Johnny or Simon could think to look for you. Even if you lost the pregnancy Larsen would be the best roommate and friend you could think of sharing this journey with.

“Yes, but let’s talk this over at dinner.”

The wedding had been a week later in front of a judge, with Ash as your witness and his mother as his.

Larsen never pressured you to make a decision about your pregnancy, simply talked through each option with you again and again until you decided you wanted to keep this gift. Simon and Johnny might have treated you as if they were evil but at least you stole something good from them in the process.

You had two boys growing inside you. To the growing delight of the specialty pregnancy team, you were a rare case of two separate fertilization babies. Distinct sacks and placentas meant two independent babies. Baby A was three weeks further in growth and development than baby B. This idea was confirmed when both boys arrived and looked nothing alike even covered in vernix.

Larsen had chuckled and chided the nurses in the halls for the odd looks you and the boys got. You had five amazing years with Larsen before he died of an aneurysm at work. He left you with a boatload of life insurance and two four-year-old boys who had just lost the only father they had ever known.

The boys knew Larsen didn’t help create them but they were so small it didn’t matter. He was their dad. The first thing you did after picking yourself up off the hospital chair was call and set up therapy for yourself and the boys. You would all need it.

Another two years passed, the boys started kindergarten and you started a cake decorating business from the house Larsen had bought you. You had paid it off with a portion of his death benefits. Everything was looking up. Despite the boys sometimes looking exactly like their genetic fathers, they were the most amazing thing in your life. Life was looking up until the house the bus stopped at went up for sale. Your neighbors mentioned an attractive-looking gay couple bought it and wouldn’t you know they had the best accents? One rang of rainy England and the other of Scotland. They were retired military and were excited for the change of pace this life would bring.

Nope, had to be a coincidence. Couldn’t be them. Why would they move to the States? Why your state of all places? No. Couldn’t be Simon and Johnny, you were still safe from their reach.

Except you weren’t.

They followed the boys home one day from the bus, shocked at seeing a child who looked so much like themselves. When you opened the door, royal icing dried to your cheek, you blanched and slammed the door shut slamming the deadbolt home.

The men that haunted your therapy sessions and the aches of your heart had found you. You and their boys.

Masterlist

[fxstpace]

how you get the girl (teaser)

summary: when you lose a bet against your brother and he forces you to go on a blind date, the last thing you expect is to find your ex-boyfriend at your doorstep, with a bouquet in his hand and a confession on his lips.

pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader genres: romance, angst, smut, exes to lovers au, brother’s best friend au (ft. brother!joshua hong) teaser word count: 0.6k

↳ warnings: profanity (full warnings tba)

“Hi,” he says. “Thanks for the shower.”

“No problem.” You swallow the hitch in your voice, gripping the chopsticks in your hand tightly. “I hope the water was warm.”

“It was.” Jeonghan hesitates for a moment, eyes flickering all across your kitchen before finally meeting your gaze. “Do you need any help?”

“Oh, uh, no. I’m just making ramen. Couldn’t find anything else, sorry.” 

You hate the way your throat dries and your mouth clams up. You rest your hip on the counter, keeping your body angled sideways so you can keep one eye on the stove without appearing rude. All these weeks, and Jeonghan still manages to render you speechless. It’s almost ridiculous.

He jerks, a movement bordering a shrug and a grimace. It’s rare to see Jeonghan so awkward, rarer still to see him floundering for words. If there’s one thing Jeonghan is, it’s a smooth talker. He can charm his way into anything, putting that honey-rich timbre and smooth baritone of his voice to good use. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but,” he finally says, “I put my jacket to dry by the washing machine. The rest of my stuff is in the hamper.”

“Oh. Okay.” You nod. Of course he remembers the exact layout of your apartment—he had been there when you went house-hunting, after all—but it still serves as a sharp reminder to what you used to have and everything you couldn’t salvage. You give the ramen a small stir.

“We didn’t get much of a chance to talk.” Jeonghan sounds casual, but you know better than anyone it’s just feigned. “Because of the rain, and all.”

“...Right.” You turn off the stove and carefully tip the ramen into two bowls. 

“How have you been?”

You force out a chuckle. “That’s redundant, Jeonghan.”

“Just being polite.” He is still calm, and it irritates you.

“Why did you want to meet me?”

Jeonghan lets his head drop, his long bangs falling onto his forehead. He’s let his hair grow out; it almost brushes against his shoulders. He still has the same lean, lithe figure he’s always had, though. It’s slightly disconcerting—familiar yet foreign at the same time.

He moves to lean on the counter opposite you, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can’t meet up with an old friend?”

“We both know your only friend is Joshua.”

“Ouch.” The laugh he barks out is dry. “I have lots of new friends now.”

Your fingers curl into your palm, nails digging into your skin. A tense silence fills the space between you both. Mechanically, you hand him a bowl of ramen and a pair of chopsticks. He takes them wordlessly, nodding his thanks. 

You pick up your own bowl and walk towards your small dining table. You don’t gesture for Jeonghan to follow—you know he will, anyway, just like how he walked into your life with no warning. Your first bite of ramen nearly burns your tongue. You bite back a yelp. 

“Careful, it’s hot,” Jeonghan warns, a hint of a smile on his lips. You glare at him and it vanishes immediately. “Sorry. But I’m serious—how have you been? We haven’t spoken in a while.”

“I wonder why that is.”

“Still the same, I see,” he says, chewing around a mouthful. “I’ve been good too, thanks for asking.”

“You’re an asshole, Jeonghan.” Your grip on the chopsticks falters. They clatter onto the table, but neither of you pay any mind to it. 

Jeonghan rubs some broth off the corner of his mouth, finally averting his gaze to his bowl of ramen instead of looking at you. You sigh, fighting the urge to crawl back into your room and pretend this isn’t happening.

↳ a/n: thanks for reading! please send an ask/reply if you would like to be added to the tag list :)

[maeedrg]

NEW PIERCINGS ?

Gojo x nipples pierced reader

ᯓ★

Synopsis : in which reader just got her nipples pierced, and wants to make it a surprise to her boyfriend. Well, he really liked it.

Words count : 3k

Warnings : fluff, swearing, smut, reader is fem, nipple play, half public sex, squirting, p in v, pet names, kinda jealous Gojo ?

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : I got my nipples pierced this weekend, so I needed to do a fanfic about it.

｡⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚｡⋆♡⋆｡⋆ ˚｡⋆⊹⋆ ˚⋆｡⋆✧⋆˚｡⋆⋆ ｡⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚｡⋆♡⋆｡⋆ ˚｡⋆⊹⋆

Ouch. It’s so damn sensitive. Why is it so cold outside, anyways ? And the damn wind that goes through your clothes and hardens your nipples really wasn’t what you needed right now. Barely some minutes ago, you went to your favorite piercing shop, and got your breast pierced. On both sides. The fresh jewel on your flesh that gets colder because of the wind, reminds you how sensitive the area was for now. You sigh, sucking up a breath and deciding to look at your phone. You didn’t answer the texts of your boyfriend, after all. But you had a good reason. These new piercings were a surprise ! 

From ‘ Kakashi 2.0 : 

“I just ate 11 mochis, my belly hurts”

“nevermind I have room for more lol”

seen

“uh why aren’t you answering your beautiful boyfriend…. the fuck”

“alright girl in what position you guys are”

“HEY ARE YOU DEAD ?!!!!”

“The way I’m going to hollow purple this bitch you are with if you don’t answer right now”

seen

Oh oh. You can’t stop yourself from having a laugh escaping your lips. Both from silliness at Satoru’s text, and from nervousness. Yeah, maybe you did ignore him for half of the day… But hey, your excuses are valid ! And you didn’t think he would notice, since today he had a busy schedule, normally. As you walk back home, a bit like a truck, to avoid your clothes from brushing too often your nipples and the pain that comes with it, you decide to text back your boyfriend. The moment you start to type, suddenly two long arms wrap around your stomach and smash you against the chest of someone. You open wider your eyes, startled, but quickly relax when you recognize this familiar cologne that you love oh so much.

“Police, got the cheater ! What can you say to defend yourself, baby, uh ? I bet he didn’t even fuck you that well,” exclaims Satoru’s voice in your ear, pouting slightly and when you turn your head you can imagine how his eyebrows frown behind his blindfold.

“You scared me here !” you answer, breathing back normally and keeping your body rigid. Without knowing, the way he was hugging you from behind made the tissue of your clothes tighter. Which means hurting your sensitive breast. You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid hissing of pain.

“You are the one that scared me ! Why didn’t you answer for so long ? Didn’t you say you had nothing to do today, and would stay at home ?” continues your boyfriend, frowning and looking at you up and down. He directly notices how your body is tense. Weird…

“I wasn’t cheating on you, you idiot. But sorry for not answering, I had something to do,” you answer vaguely, taking off his arms from your waist. At first he keeps his iron grip around you, but sighs and loosen his hands when seeing your discomfort.

“Awww, you’re so mean. I still manage to text you when I’m killing curses, so what got you so busy to not be able to do it for a whole afternoon ?” he asks, pouting even more as he slides his hand in the small of your back while walking next to you towards your shared apartment.

You couldn’t tell him that you were occupied with going to the piercing shop (which was a bit far away from home), waiting your turn, then getting pierced, and everything that comes with it until… now. Yeah, it took longer than you thought. 

“Well, I'll tell you later,” you simply answer. Satoru opens his mouth and closes it back, frowning more and tightening his fingers on your hip. You open the door of the building at the same time, and he whines.

“What do you mean ? Is it a new way to torture me by testing my patience ?”

“Poor baby. The Great Gojo Satoru gets bullied by his girlfriend,” you roll your eyes saying that, grabbing his arm to pull him towards you and kiss his cheek. He immediately grins back at the contact of your lips against his cold skin.

“You gotta tell me quickly, then. If you don’t want to face the wrath of The Strongest…” he jokes, before taking your face and chastly kissing your lips mischievously. 

“I’m shaking from fear…” you tease back against his mouth.

A bit later, and after some silly back and forth, you force your boyfriend to wait in the bedroom while you go to the bathroom. Indeed, before showing him your surprise, you needed first to clean it from the small amount of dried blood. Even if Satoru was used to seeing gruesome things everyday, you insisted in your mind that you didn’t want it to be his first impression of your new decorated nipples. So you carefully wash them, with delicacy and care. You hiss slightly, trying to not move too much the jewel, the sensitivity of your skin making it a hard task. Once you are done, you put back your shirt on top and exit the washroom. 

At the sound of the door opening and closing, Satoru perks up and straightens back his seat on the bed. He looks at you, legs sprayed on manspread as he puts down his phone to the side.

“Took you long enough,” he complains.

“Don’t pout. Now are you ready to know the reason why your amazing girlfriend ignored you all afternoon ?” you ask teasingly, tilting your head to the side.

The white haired man quickly nods, eager to know. He even was bouncing his leg up and down, clearly impatient to finally have his answer. You smile, wider, and lift your shirt, exposing to your boyfriend your pierced nipples. Satoru pauses, and then slowly lifts his blindfold to reveal his blue eyes. The look on his face was something you needed to remember. You could feel his Six Eyes staring right back at your chest. 

“No way….” he whispers, cheeks slightly turning red and a cheeky grin forming on his lips as his pupils swing left and right to look at both.

“Yes way. You like it ?” 

He suddenly brings you closer, making you stand in between his legs as he analyzes your breast. He knew it like the palm of his hand, but he needed to discover it all over again now. He was fascinated, intrigued, biting his lower lip in excitement.

“I fucking love it. That’s so hot ! Why didn’t you tell me ? I would have come with you !” he cheers as he looks up at your face, then back down, then your face, then down. His long fingers help you remove your shirt completely, having free rein to touch your skin and admire your torso.

“I wanted to surprise you, that’s why,” you explain.

“Did it hurt ?” Satoru asks as his left thumb softly caresses the bottom of your breast, while the right one brushes your ribs.

“Yeah. But it was quick, to be honest. So it wasn’t that bad. But it’s very sensitive right now, even the brush of clothes can be uncomfortable or hurtful,” you describe as you recall the feeling of the needle, and how a hassle it was to walk down the street with your shirt and jacket touching them every second. 

“Sensitive, uh ?” he muses, his fingers about to touch your bundle of nerves, but you quickly snap it away. He pouts at your glare.

“Nuh-uh. No touching. Your hands aren’t washed, and it will hurt. Plus, I have to avoid touching the jewel or moving it as much as I can for one month,” you quickly explain, facing the sulking face of your man-child boyfriend. He opens wider his eyes at your words.

“One month ?!”

“One month, yes. My piercer said too that I can’t have any contact with… a mouth on it. For at least one month.”

The moment you say that, you see all colors leaving the already pale skin of Satoru. He couldn’t believe it. One of his favorite activities, which was sucking on your tits when having sex, was taken away from him. No way, no way ! He was doomed, cursed ! At what cost ? He couldn’t deny, it looked incredibly hot. But by seeing them, it made him crave touching them, toying with them, and exploring this new aspect of possible sensitivity on your body. That was like a new game to him ! And damn, he couldn’t even play with it for at least one month. That was hell on earth. Alright, maybe he was being a bit melodramatic right now. But Satoru liked to exaggerate when he couldn’t have what he wanted right on the spot.

“Y/n, you’re killing me here. That’s too looooong !”

“You gotta wait, love. Safety first,” you retort, shaking your head as he sighs theatrically, letting his face be buried in your stomach.

“I promise, when it’s healed enough, I’ll play with your tits so much you’ll cry for me to stop,” he pouts, muttering that, gazing back up at your face. You chuckle, caressing his hair. He really was a menace.

“Hey, don’t make me suffer here. I’m just doing what my piercer told me to do. He was clear about no contact-”, you start to say, before Satoru cuts you in the middle of your sentence, “he ?!”. 

You roll your eyes, trying to not laugh at his over exaggerated facial reaction. “Yes Satoru, he.”

“I can’t believe that you betrayed me like that… First you cheat on me with your piercer, and now I can't suck your tits for one month. What a tragedy ! The downfall of The Strongest…” he exclaims, dramatically falling backwards on the mattress behind him, bringing you to straddle him while he puts his free hand over his forehead as if he just fainted. 

“It’s literally his job ! You really are a drama queen…” you slightly chuckle, flocking his forehead and he whines at the pain. When he was with you, he really reminded you of a husky. Always being loud over every tiny inconvenience, or just any situation, to be honest.

“Well, maybe I can’t suck on the gorgeous boobs of my girlfriend, but I can still eat her out. Right ?” he suddenly states, lifting himself on his elbow and eying you down with his stupid wolfish grin of his. 

“Well, technically yes, but I didn’t shower so-”

“Perfect then !” he interrupts you as he flips you over, gently actually, to be sure to not hurt you, and then in a swift movement takes off your pants and pry open your thighs.

“Satoru, I still didn’t have time to shower !”

“You think I care ?” he answers as if you just said the dumbest thing ever, bringing your leg over his shoulder and kissing the inside of your flesh.

“Satoru…”

“That would be my distraction for one month, deal ?” he asks, eyes meeting yours as he kisses the top of your panties.

Oh, you were in for a ride. Of his face. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ  

Heavens could be applause, time has come. You finally, finally could go back to your… activities with Satoru, as your piercings were healed enough. Through the weeks of healing, you realized that the myth of having this area pierced could possibly bring a higher sensitivity wasn’t fake. And your boyfriend was adamant on testing that right now. He was eager, way too eager, maybe. Satoru couldn’t wait, to the point that when you gave him the green light this morning by text, he decided that the moment he would finish his daily missions of exorcizing curses, he would do it.

Hell, he was being for real ! You were walking in the corridor of the campus, when a tall figure teleported right in front of you. You lift your head, a bit startled, and sigh when you realize it simply was your boyfriend.

“Satoru ? You already finished your miss- ah !” you get cut off the moment he grabs your legs and swings you over his shoulder, lifting you up and carrying you like that without a care in the world. His hand slaps your butt, staying on it to keep you steady as you now are hanging over him.

“I made it quick,” he simply answered in a tone of voice that meant business. Oh, the tension was high, very high.

He opens the door of an empty classroom, and closes it swiftly behind him, locking it in a soft thud. He puts you down on a table, looming over you.

“Love, it’s a classroom, what if some students enters-”

“Nobody will, I made sure of that,” he answers quickly, taking off his blindfold and looking at you with such hungry eyes that you shiver. Oh, the man was starved. 

He unbuttons your jacket and throws it on a chair, before doing so with your shirt while he smashes his lips against yours, not letting you answer him. There was no time to even talk, his mouth was eager. Why talking, anyways ? When he could instead please you like you both dreamed since the night you came back home with your little… surprise.

 His lips were moving against yours with need, and in no time you felt his cold fingers cup your breast. He presses himself in between your thigh, and at the same time his thumb caresses your hardened nipple, toying finally with the jewel. You open your eyes at the feeling, and let out a strangled moan of surprise. Fuck, it indeed was more sensitive than you remember it being before. After so long, this area was damn touch starved. And God, how good it felt, and that just from a small tiny touch.

He smiles against your lips, and presses his hard crotch against yours. Painfully hard, actually. Satoru bites your lower lip as he pinches your bundle of nerves, his other hand doing the same on the right side. His tongue invades your mouth and you quickly start to feel overwhelmed. He swallows your sweet moans of pleasure and whines of relief at the sensation. It started to feel warm, and you wanted more stimulation. Why was it so exciting ?

He chuckles and trails his lips down your neck, to your collarbone, tongue sliding towards your left tit. Without more useless teasing, his lips are on your nipple, and his tongue swirls around the jewel. You yank your head backwards, biting the inside of your cheek. His eyes are on you the whole time, drinking your cute facial reactions each time his tongue flickers on the top of your nipple, or on the way the jewel slightly moves left and right. He goes to suck on the right one, using his left hand to continue to stimulate both at the same time. 

“Feels good, uh ?”

You nod, not understanding how pleasurable it was. Because fuck, your body was on fire right now. The sensitivity of the area went skyrocket, and you squeeze your thighs around the hips of your lover as he continues to grind against your clothed cunt. He lifts a bit more up your skirt, allowing him more space to stimulate you down there as he eats your tits hungrily like the starved man he is.

“How cute,” he muses, sliding your panties on the side and pulling a bit down his pants to press his boxer against your slit. His voice rumbles against your piercing and makes you giddy. He was sucking on them so much it started to be sore, but you didn’t want it to stop, because you craved it to the bones.

You have no time to ride your pleasure that you feel his cock tapping a few times against your clit before smudging his precum and your wetness together, and then entering in one go inside your pussy. It went as easy as damn butter, you were so fucking soaked. And Satoru couldn’t help but roll down his eyes at the sensation, biting slightly your nipple to tease you and make you squeeze your walls around his dick. Just like the way he loved. Good, very good.

“So fucking tight-” he mutters, kissing back your lips to slide his tongue inside your mouth, using both of his hands to play with your breast now while he pounds quickly, chasing some relief and wanting to drive you faster to the edge. After all, it was risky, and you guys couldn’t fool around too long. He just wanted to make you cum first, to drive you slightly crazy. Tonight he would have all the time of the world to completely take care of you and your tits. Right now it was just… a trial.

“Wait, I’ll-” you babble, moaning louder as he tugs both piercings at the same time, thrusting hard inside your dripping walls. 

“Wait ? Nah,” he chuckles lightly, slamming his hips faster as he yanks your hair to allow him access to your neck, sucking on it and leaving a red mark. Well, that was inappropriate, other people could see it, but who cares. Satoru didn’t give a damn about that, anyways.

He slaps your tits before sucking back on them, gripping your ass to bring you even closer. You clench your pussy around his cock, the feeling overwhelming, his hot and wet mouth stimulating exactly where you wanted him too, his tongue working magic. Both the sensation of the coldness of the jewel, and the warmth of his tongue, was an amazing duality that made your head spin.

The pleasure was so good that you suddenly cum all over him, legs shaking and accidently wetting a bit of his boxer and the bottom of his shirt. You breath heavily, his lips kissing your tit before looking slowly back up at you while you come down your high. He smiles, still inside your cunt, not done yet with you, and straightens back as he bites his lower lip. He then asks : 

“Maybe I should get my nipples pierced too. What do you think, sweetheart ?” 

THE END 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Bradford Bingo

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: Lucy makes Bradford Bingo for the station. You try to keep it from Tim, but you win in front of him. 1.0k+ words of fluff

Lucy slips a paper into your hand without comment, then walks away and does the same to Nyla. Nyla raises her hands in question and turns to you. You shrug and look down at the paper. It’s a bingo card, but not any bingo card; it’s Bradford Bingo. Your card has “calls someone boot,” “yells at another cop (besides you),” “gives the disappointed look,” and more.

There has to be something behind Lucy roping everyone in the station into a silent game of Bradford Bingo. You flip the card and see Lucy’s handwritten winner gets a prize ;) note.

“You ready?” Tim asks as he approaches you.

You hold the bingo card behind your leg and nod. Without knowing what the prize is – even if there was no prize – you want to win Bradford Bingo. There’s no doubt that he isn’t aware of the game, so you keep the card hidden from him as you sit in the passenger seat of his shop.

“Did Wade tell you why I’m riding with you?” you inquire as he pulls out of the garage.

“Yep,” he answers.

You press your lips together and mark “doesn’t offer additional information” off your card.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Making a note.”

You interact with other officers, listen to radio calls, and witness people marking blocks off their bingo cards throughout the next hour. Tim has clearly noticed the unusual attention and people marking cards. He doesn’t care enough or isn’t bothered enough to ask for more information.

“Ask your TO, boot,” Tim snaps as you leave a scene.

You mark the square and chew your bottom lip in thought. With only one square left in your diagonal line, you have a real shot at winning. Tim just needs to yell at an officer who isn’t you.

“7-Adam-19, requesting backup for signs of violence on scene,” Aaron radios.

“7-Adam-100, responding,” Tim responds before steering into a left turn.

“I love that you get to tell me what to do again,” you murmur as Tim parks outside the scene.

Tim turns in his seat and glares at you for a moment, then shakes his head and opens his door. That’s the disappointed look, but it’s still not the bingo you need. You mark it regardless and follow him to the front yard.

“You thought it was okay?” Tim demands, his voice rising. “You do not think on this job, you do!”

“I’m sorry, Sergeant Bradford,” the officer replies.

“Oh!” Tim's jaw tightens before he yells, “That makes it all better!”

You see Lucy approaching with Nolan, and don’t hesitate to yell, “Bingo!”

“What? Already?” Lucy asks, rushing to take your card. “It’s been two hours!”

You nod excitedly, then remember Tim is standing beside you. He simply looks at you, watching as Lucy congratulates you. The call takes precedence, so everyone shifts their focus from the game to the case.

When you get back in the shop, Tim doesn’t move.

“It was Lucy’s idea,” you begin, looking at your hands. “It was just fun, you know, nothing against you.”

Tim extends his hand toward you, palm up, and you place the card in it. He reads the activities you’ve marked off before giving it back.

“Why’d you play?” he asks.

“I… I knew I could win,” you admit.

“You think I’m that bad to ride with?” he challenges.

“Uh- no- no, sir, just…”

Tim fails to hold his laughter in when you call him sir and snorts before covering it with a cough. He moves his hand to cover his smile, and you look at him in shock.

“Why would you do that?” you exclaim.

“You could get another bingo with it.”

You roll your eyes and complain, “I don’t even know what the prize is.”

“Care to make a deal?”

You narrow your eyes but shake Tim’s hand anyway.

“If someone else gets a bingo, I’ll give you a prize in addition to Lucy’s.”

“That’s terrifying, Tim.”

 “Deal’s a deal.”

“Alright!” Lucy calls in the bullpen. “We had two bingos in today’s game! First prize is a gift card for free dinner!”

“How long have you known?” Tim asks Wade, watching the awards ceremony from inside his office.

“Who do you think offered the gift card?”

“No ulterior motive?”

“You’ll never know, Bradford.”

Tim raises his brows as you approach your car. You offer the gift card to him, but he knocks your hand away and opens your car door for you.

“My place,” he tells you before closing the door.

You prepare a dozen different apologies as you stand in his living room, waiting for him to tell you what’s going on.

“Tim-“

He raises his hand to stop you, and asks, “Did you know you got the only card without a free space in the middle?”

“I was riding with you, it probably made it fair.”

“Grey and Lucy worked together.”

“To make the game?”

“To show you that you…” Tim pauses to find the right word. “Tolerate me.”

“I-“

“We’re going to keep going in circles.”

You nod and admit, “It’s what we do.”

Tim pulls a bingo bard from his pocket and says, “This is the one Lucy was going to give you, but apparently she chickened out.”

The card has a red square in the middle, but instead of being a free space it says, Admit it already.

“Tim, I- I told Lucy about my feelings, but I didn't think-"

Tim cuts you off, his hands on either side of your face as he pulls you against him. You silence and look up at Tim as your hands meet his waist.

“Do you tolerate me?” he asks.

“You know I do more than that.”

“Enough for a lifetime of Bradford Bingo?”

You smile, wrap your arms around him, and kiss Tim. His fingers move to the back of your neck, tugging you closer as you melt into one another. Your legs hit the couch as you step back, and Tim spins so he falls back, and you barely manage to catch yourself above him.

“I’m really glad I won,” you pant, holding yourself up on the back of the couch with one hand.

“Maybe Lucy should make another game, one I could win.”

“I don’t have Bradford stereotypes.”

“Not yet.”

You don’t argue but smile before you shift your weight, wrapping your arms around Tim’s shoulders as you lower to meet him.

[childrenofcain-if]

How would W react to an MC who is obsessed with them? Like they need help with a small thing? MC drop everything and run to the rescue. W doesn’t take care of themselves? Why bother when MC takes care of them.

W’s presence wasn’t always loud, but it was startling, an emotional thunderhead that you could feel rumbling in your ribs before it even fully cracked.

when the call came, their voice tried to sound casual but failed miserably. “i, uh, could use a hand with something.”

it didn’t matter what it was—something about a deadline they’d forgotten or a lamp they’d broken while pacing in frustration. you didn’t even ask. you dropped your coffee cup on the kitchenette counter, grabbed your jacket, and bolted out the door without thinking twice.

the quick walk to their suite was a blur and when you arrived, W was sitting cross-legged on the couch, their thin frame curled in on itself. they were wearing a mismatched pair of socks, one of them being yours—the blue one with the tiny stars that you’d lost weeks ago—and it was enough to make your heart ache.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, dropping your jacket at the door and crossing the room in three long strides.

W didn’t answer right away. their fingers were busy tracing invisible patterns on the edge of their sweater, which was so oversized it might as well have been a blanket. their silence stretched like a taut wire, and then, finally, they said, “i forgot to eat again.”

your chest tightened. not with anger, not even with frustration, but with the unbearable weight of love for someone who couldn’t always love themself. you didn’t say anything. you just walked into their kitchenette and started rummaging through cabinets and the refridgerator.

there wasn’t much to work with—a box of crackers, a bruised apple, a carton of almond milk. it didn’t matter. you threw together something small and easy and brought it back to W, sitting beside them on the couch.

they looked at the plate like it was a challenge, their fingers twitching toward it but never quite making contact.

“i’m sorry,” they murmured, their voice barely above a whisper.

“don’t,” you said, shaking your head. “you don’t have to apologize.”

“i do,” they insisted, their voice cracking. “you shouldn’t have to—”

“W,” you interrupted, your tone firmer than before. “i’m here because i want to be. because i love you. that’s it. that’s all there is to it.”

they looked at you then, their sapphire blue eyes watery and wide, and for a moment, you thought they might cry. instead, they reached for the plate and took a small bite of the apple. it wasn’t much, but it was definitely a start.

that night, after they’d eaten what they could and you’d cleaned up the remnants, you found yourself sitting together on the couch. W was curled against your side, their head resting on your shoulder, their fingers absently tracing shapes on your arm.

“you’re warm,” they murmured, their voice soft and sleepy. “and you smell nice. like fresh laundry.”

you smiled, pressing a kiss to their temple. “and you’re wearing my missing sock.”

“it’s a good sock,” they said with a tired chuckle, tugging at the hem of it. “better than the pairs i own.”

“you could’ve just asked for it,” you said.

they tilted their head to look up at you, their expression caught somewhere between a smirk and a fond smile. “and where’s the fun in that?”

***

later, as the night deepened, W began to fidget. their fingers, which had been drawing lazy circles on your arm, began to scratch at their own thigh, leaving faint red marks in their wake.

“stop,” you said gently, catching their hand in yours.

they flinched but didn’t pull away. “sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” you said, your voice kind. “just… tell me what’s wrong.”

they hesitated, their gaze fixed on the floor.

“i don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” they admitted. “like i’m… too much. or not enough. or both at the same time.”

your heart broke for the hundredth time that day. you pulled them closer, wrapping your arms around them like you could shield them from the weight of their own thoughts.

“you’re not too much,” you said. “and you’re not not enough. you’re exactly who you’re supposed to be.”

they didn’t respond, but their body relaxed slightly against yours. after a moment, they said, “i love you so much, i can’t bear the pain.”

the words were so quiet you almost missed them, but when they sank in, they hit you like a freight train. you tightened your hold on them, pressing a kiss to the crown of their head.

“i love you so much, i’ll bear it for you,” you whispered.

W looked up at you then, their eyes soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name.

“you mean that?” they asked tentatively.

“every word,” you replied, leaving no room for doubt. W said nothing but their smile was brighter than the lights in the room.

after a while, W whispered in latin, “te amabo aeternum.”

you recognized the words instantly, even though W’s accent was softer, less confident. i will love you forever.

“amabo te in aeternum,” you corrected gently, your voice warm and teasing. the structure mattered less than the sentiment, but you couldn’t help it. W’s latin was too endearing to leave unpolished.

“of course you’d fix that,” they muttered with a faint smile, their tone holding no actual irritation. “you always seem to know everything, don’t you?”

“not everything,” you said, smiling softly as you ran your thumb along the back of their hand. “just the important parts. like how much you mean to me.”

W looked up at you then, their blue eyes catching the light and you leaned in closer, your nose brushing against theirs.

“et ego te amo.” and i love you, you said, soft but firm, as if the words themselves could shield them from everything clawing at their mind.

they sighed, a sound that carried equal parts relief and exhaustion, and melted against you. “thank you for everything, mein stern.”

***

as the night wore on, W continued murmuring fragments of latin into the quiet—“es somnium meum,” they said at one point, and it took you a moment to piece it together. you are my dream.

you tightened your hold on them. “tibi in somniis et re in aeternum pertinebo,” you whispered back. i will belong to you in your dreams and reality forever.

that earned a smile from W, small but real, and when they finally closed their eyes, you stayed awake, holding them close. you whispered one final phrase into the night, one you weren’t even sure they’d catch:

“in saecula saeculorum.” forever and ever.

they didn’t respond, but their breathing slowed, steady and even, their body curled against yours with all the trust and affection that they could ever afford to give back.

[koi-p0nd]

MOUTHWASHING X READER ONESHOTS.

Curly x GN Reader

Part 1?

“Come here, sunshine... Let me love you...”

(This is mostly just to polish up my one-shot/fanfic writing skills, don't expect that this will be continued sorry)

02:36. 02:36 in the goddamn morning on the ship and Curly was still up. Having ‘lost track of time’ while sitting in the cockpit and doing his work. Always that ¨lost track of time’ excuse whenever he was confronted by the others. Although the others would confront him about it he didn’t care much, only when you started to scold him about it. 

It was something in the way that you managed to get to him whenever giving him a scolding. He felt like a kid each time. But in an oddly good way.

“God forbid if they knew…” Curly thought to himself, knowing as to why he would feel like a child to your scoldings. He was smitten. So utterly in love it was disgusting. How could Curly let himself fall so hard for someone like them? 

It was lonely on the freighter after all. The only ones he could have any company with were his crew, only seeing them as friends. But you? Oh god… Why did Curly get all fuzzy at the thought of you even being nearby?

Knock knock!

Snapping out of his train of thought, Curly turned around in his seat, looking at the door as it hissed open quietly. Confused, wondering who in the hell it could be.

“Cap?” A voice called out quietly yet sternly. Oh. It’s you. 

Shit.

“Oh, uh… hey..” He replied back with a sheepish sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at you. Forcing an apologetic smile.

“Nevermind, get to bed.” You sighed, shaking your head dismissively while rubbing your eyes. “C’mon. Don’t need you to pass out.” 

Curly sighed, nodding his head. He knew it wasn’t any idea to protest. “Alright, just let me finish with this paper and I’ll come.” He responded quietly.

Quickly finishing up with the report, putting the papers and his pen away he eventually got up from his seat and walked over to the door where you stood. “Sorry, I-”

“-Lost track of time. Again?” You cut him off, raising a brow to look at the blonde captain in front of you. “Yeah... Right.” Curly grumbled in a sigh. “Again..” He echoed in a sheepish tone, unable to stop the guilty smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry.”

You just sighed, shaking your head dismissively one last time. “How about we just get out of here and get back to sleep while we still can, hm?” Curly seemed to perk up at that, gratitude taking over the sheepishness on his smile. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

~¤~

The quiet, soft sounds of the two walking down the halls of the ship. Quiet words leaving them in their discussion about something random, unrelated to any of their work on the ship. 

Curly missed those soft, gentle and quiet moments back at home. Not like he could really remember them anymore, but he felt nostalgic during these rare moments of the quiet late night conversations. 

The two made it out to the lounge, took a seat on the couch and looked at the late night- early morning time window screen. Sitting on the white cushions of the couch, tired eyes on the soft yet harsh light of the screen.

“Why are you like this?” You asked softly, breaking the quietness after several minutes of silently staring at the screen. 

“Like what?” Curly quizzed, gazing over to you with a raised brow and curious gaze. “Why are you forcing yourself to stay up so late?” The words left your tongue with that soft tone, yet laced with worry and annoyance at the same time.

“I-...” Curly trailed off, caught off guard by the question. He didn’t even know what to reply with. Not thinking that the question would be asked so soon. “I don’t know, actually.” He forced out after a few seconds. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Figure it out.” You said sharply, looking at Curly with narrowed eyes. “I’m getting tired of having to literally force and tuck you into bed like you’re a little kid.” 

“Ouch, that hurt.” The captain thought, the words from you stinging but true. 

“Oh, I didn’t know you felt like that-” He started, about to apologize before he got cut off.

“Curly, you’re a captain for crying out loud! You should be able to take proper care of yourself, you’re a grown man after all!” You scoffed, hands rubbing your eyes. “Get yourself together and get to bed when everyone else does.” 

He was baffled. Not expecting such blunt, harsh words from you. His mouth opened but no sounds or words left him.

“This is the last time I’m telling you. If I find you or find out that you’ve been staying awake this late, I will fucking loose it.” Curly just watched as you walked off after saying that. Guilt and shame started to form in the pits of his stomach. Why did he feel so bad…?

[only-lonely-star]

ok so basically. after a particularly rough and unfair rumble with the socs, not only is dallas exhausted and sore but hes acting all soft and clingy. when he showed up at your door all he wanted was for his girl to hold him. but he is a mess and hes covered in dirt, blood and sweat so fem reader suggests that he takes a shower but hes like “im tired…” and she suggests that she gets in to help him (COMPLETELY DOMESTIC NOT IN A FREAKY WAY) and dallas is too tired and touch starved to complain so instead of a cocky remark he agrees and reader basically just helps him clean up and get to bed. is this too much?😭 im sorry if it is!!! u 100% do not have to do it!! but ilysm and thank you!!!❤️❤️❤️

🫧⋆｡˚ Bruised and Bare ˚ ｡⋆ 🫧

Warnings - Slight pain inflicted on Dallas. Mentions of blood and bruises. Showering together. Established relationship between fem!reader and Dallas Winston.

Summary - Dallas comes to you for some comfort after a rough fight with some Soc boys. You offer to join him in a hot shower to relax and unwind :)

Author’s Note - I love you too, Anon, thank you for your request! 😼😼 Let me just say… DAMN IT FEELS GOOD TO BE BACK TO WRITING. The post-meeting-C.-Thomas-Howell depression is so real and hit me so strong. This is a rather short one, I apologize. I fear if I didn’t get to these requests soon enough then I’d procrastinate even more. I have like four WIPs right now, they’ll be out soon y’all. I love you all SO much, enjoy!!!! 🙈🙈

Word Count - 830

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

The sudden knock on your door hadn’t taken you by surprise as you sauntered towards the tall, wooden frame. It was late. Visitors at this hour usually resulted in your rebellious boyfriend, Dallas, looking for a safe haven to spend the night at. It was no surprise when you pulled the doorknob and saw Dallas with a look of defeat and exhaustion in his eyes.

He was hunched over, his shoulders slouched to a new level of low. The boy’s eyes revealed he had endured a tough night already, but the scattered bruises in shades of red and purple told you the full story. “Come on and let me in, just let me cool off for a minute,” he pleaded, his eyes lifeless.

“Oh, Dallas, you went looking for trouble again, didn’t you?” you spoke with playful sarcasm, pulling him inside by the stretched-out collar of his tee.

As Dallas stumbled inside, his boots left footprints of mud across the welcome mat. “No, actually,” he retorted with equal sarcasm, “I took a few blows from them Soc guys we saw that day in the park. I thought I could take three, but hell- I guess not.” Dallas glanced down at his raggedy shirt, one that couldn’t be saved now that it was ripped and torn in just about every place imaginable.

Frowning, you extended a hand to cup his cheek. He looked absolutely defeated - a rare sighting for such a well-known fighter. He didn’t budge at the gentle touch, instead, he stepped forward and snaked his hands to rest on your hips idly. “I’m sorry, baby, c’mere,” you beckoned, gently stroking your thumb across his cheek.

Dallas obeyed, closing the distance between the two of you. He rested his chin on your shoulder, allowing his hand to press yours firmly against his cheek. His lips formed into a small pout. “It hurts, baby. Everywhere. We can just have an easy night and uh…chill in bed, how ‘bout that?”

You grimaced, pulling away slightly. “You ought to shower first, Dal, you ain’t staining my sheets with all that blood… and dirt…and whatever the hell that is,” you pointed to a smear of bright green across his white tee.

The groan Dallas let out was something else. He slouched further and shook your hips vigorously. “Come onnnn, I’m tired. I can’t- I can’t get a hug from my girl? Is that right? I come crawling to you for a simple hug and I can’t even get that?”

His little sob story wasn’t convincing you for shit. “Dallas, don’t hand me that. I’ll even step in with you, that way all you have to do is stand there.”

He shrugged. This was a win-win. He didn’t have to do a thing and on top of that, he got to spend time with you. “Thank you,” Dallas replied sincerely. You could tell right away he meant it, he needed this gentle form of care.

_________________________________________________

As you twisted the knob to adjust the water’s temperature, Dallas analyzed the markings on his cheekbones and under-eye area. His lip seemed to be busted up pretty well, along with a dark purple rim around his left cheekbone. He grinned, “Looks good, don’t it?”

Scoffing playfully, you ushered him closer, “Just get in.” Dallas slowly but surely trudged his way into the tub, standing under the shower head. With another twist, the hot water splashed down from the nozzle, running down his bruised back. His eyes shut instinctively as he felt around the air in front of him for your body. Following him inside, you grabbed the spare white washcloth which hung from the rack located just across the sink. You enclosed yourself inside as you pulled the shower curtain shut.

“Get my back first?” he requested with a soft smile. The exhaustion written on his face was clear as day, but he maintained a sincere tone when speaking with you.

“Yeah, I got you.” His shoulder blades were tense and stiff. The purple spotting along the more tender parts of his back caused a wince from the both of you. Dallas was tough, he’d never admit he’s truly hurt.

“Careful-,” he hissed with clenched teeth, stiffening as he felt your hand pressing the washcloth onto the sensitive area between his shoulders.

“Does that hurt, baby?” you drew back, hovering the dripping fabric over his body.

Dallas sighed meekly. While most was done to his face, he still had sore spots scattered throughout his entire body. “I’m sore all over darlin’, that’s why I just wanted to lay down.”

Feeling your heart clench out of sympathy, you kissed the tender spots along his spine. The steam emitted from the shower head provided the moist heat needed to soothe his aching body, much like your love for him. He found himself able to relax and wind down in the solace of your presence. Who would have thought that even Dallas Winston needed some tender love and care after all?

THANK YOU FOR READING!! YOU ARE THE BEST! ❤️‍🩹

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

You’ll never guess what happened. The demon came back, angrier AND hornier. I always thought I was a Price/Simon girly but Soap snuck his way all the way in here. I blame the Soap thirst edits on TikTok. Too pretty. Anywho, this is one of the rare times I don’t get bogged down in preamble, which is to say, a poorly veiled excuse to admit I don’t make it to smut very often. I hope… it’s good? Idk it’s all embarrassing.

That’s it for this one probably. I’ll see y’all out there.

All for One, One for All, part 2

Part 1 here

TW: NSFW, MDNI, fem reader. I’m bad at tags, sorry.

“I said, are you broken?”

“No sir.” You said quietly. Curled in on yourself, legs covering your important bits, your fingers fuss with the seams of the couch. You feel like you’ve done nothing but cry for the last hour, so much for being a big tough soldier.

Eyes still on you, he blinks for the first time in forever it seems. “Good.” Price finally stands. He always seems big but he’s towering, a monolith as you lay in his shadow. He takes a deep breath and says “Before we begin, I need you to be honest with me.”

Beside you, you hear Ghost wrestle Soap down to the couch, balaclava askew as he grabs his legs and forces him on his back.

“Ah, eyes on me.” Price barks. Not breaking his eyes, he pulls his shirt off. Jesus fucking Christ. It’s the military, you all have seen plenty of each other in various dress. But this is too much. He’s a hairy man, chest full of soft dark down, with a thick trail leading into his low pant line. You wonder if it’s just as thick near his cock.

Fingers snap, bringing you back to the task at hand. A chuckle shakes his shoulders. “You usually listen so well. More than these two anyways. We’ll have to work on that.” A mumble comes out of Soap, you figure it’d be more of a complaint if Ghost wasn’t biting his bottom lip.

You yip in surprise as Price falls to his knees in front of you. Irises blown out, you figure your eyes can and will fall out of your head by days end. He reaches for one of your knees, so far just feeling you, rubbing his thumb. Finally letting his gaze fall, he says, ”Why’ve you been running from me, love? You’re so… skittish. You’re such a good soldier for me,” he trails, taking your ankle in his other hand, bringing it to the floor tenderly. “I’ve never wanted to pressure you, make you feel like you’re here for the wrong reasons. You’re as much a part of this squad as I am.” His hand runs from your ankle to your toes, his warm fingers carding through them. He looks to the side. “What’s this really about?”

Your heart freezes as he treats you so gingerly. You’ve been so obsessed with your own worries, you didn’t even stop to consider that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. “I, I uh.” You take a moment to collect your thoughts, steady your breathing. Even Ghost and Soaps wrestling slows, you feel their eyes in your direction as the room falls to near silence. “I didn’t want to fuck anything up.” You say slowly, almost sadly. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I’m a … mess. I—“ you hiccup, shaking your head, trying to push through the weight in your chest. “didn’t want you to find out that I’m not worth it.” You finish quietly.

Hands squeeze you tightly, for a moment. Price gives you a hard look. For the first time in a long time, he isn’t sure what to say. A beat goes by, then two. He finally moves, bringing both your legs down and sitting you upright in front of him, hands in yours.

Price was always good at conveying a lot wordlessly. In the field, when a new recruit fucks up during training. The look he’s giving you now is breaking your heart. Like you bring him the sun in the morning. Like all he’s ever wanted was a moment with you. He’s been doing this a long time, not a lot in his life requires the softness that he gave you freely. You gave him hope. A hope that he could be something after all this. That he could be someone who doesn’t have to carry the world all the time. He’d carry you though. As long as you’d let him.

“You let me decide that. You understand?”

The tears threatening to burst forth subside for the first time today. Something so resolute in his voice makes you feel like you finally have something concrete, something real to latch onto. Maybe a purpose is what you both needed, something you could find in each other.

“Yes sir.” You reply.

He brings one of your hands to his lips, mustache tickling as he kisses it. “That’s my girl. Now come here.”

A surprise laugh rips through you as he snatches you into his arms. You can’t help but try to slap him away and he peppers kisses onto your face. Over your eyes, your nose. He rests his forehead against your cheekbone, smiling against it. “I’ve been showing a lot of restraint, love. You let me know if it gets too much.” You’ve never heard something so sweet sound more like a threat.

A moan brings your attention to the other side of the couch, the only word you could use to describe the scene was progress. Shirts gone, pants unbuckled, hands grabbing. Ghost in all his big, fuck-off glory trailing rough kisses down Soaps chest. Soap, already blissed out, had an eye on you though. Breathlessly, he tossed a look over at Price, “Take care of our girl, Cap.” He said. You were the first to admit that your judgement was compromised to say the least, but you could have sworn you heard an edge in Soaps voice. Eyes fluttering the closer Ghost got to his cock, he still looked at you with a certain intensity. Like he’d be there if any part of Price faltered. Your heart did a flip in your chest before Soaps eyes rolled back completely. We all had our respective objectives today, it seemed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sergeant.” You wish everything would stop happening at the same time. Your shirt, or the crumpled remains of it bunched around your shoulders gets ripped off, hair falling messily into your eyes. You hear a jangle as pants hit the floor and hands are all over you, laying you up and out. Soap and you are positioned head to head on the L-shape of the couch, your respective commanders tending to your… needs. Hair cascading around your head, you lay your hands above you, Soaps fingers tangling gently in yours.

“Suppose we have dear Johnny to thank in the first place, getting our girl out of her shell. Told Simon here he deserved something special, you know.” Price said offhandedly to you, bringing his hips over to your face. “Needed someone to warm you up for me, teamwork and whatnot.” He says as he throws you a wink. Your attention is pulled to what’s in front of you and your laugh dies in your throat. You knew he was big. You’ve caught glimpses in showers, in changing rooms. But you tried, really, you promise, not to outright ogle your captain. In this moment you start to think maybe you should have, it would have prepared you a little better emotionally.

Price’s breathing starts to get a little hitched in his chest. Something about your pretty face, underneath him looking at him like that makes his heart clench. Or maybe his balls, it’s hard to tell. Either way it makes his abs flex and his cock bob up and down. “Sweetheart, I need you,” he tells you, pumping the base. “I’m going to take care of you I promise baby. You gonna take care of your Captain?”

There’s a breathless quality to his voice. And something like liquid fire slips into your stomach. Something slippery and white hot. Seeing the man you’ve leaned on both physically and emotionally, the man you looked up to, got you out of battlefields alive, weak? For you? You look up at Price, big doe eyes taking him all in as you lean his cock gently into your mouth with two fingers. Running your tongue gingerly across the underside, you tease it a little before taking just the head in your mouth and giving it suck. Almost a kiss. You feel his torso shudder as he leans a hand to the back of the couch to support himself, curling over you for a better view.

If you weren’t so focused, you’d laugh at the chorus of moans from the men in the room. Prices eyes slipped closed, Ghosts eyes are locked on you as he has Soap in his own mouth, bobbing up and down in a steady pace. Soap however has you locked in, looking at you almost upside down, fingers clenching in yours as his brows furrow. Mouth agape, he chokes out a moan as he cums down Ghosts throat.

You take Price down further, slowly. As much as you want to tease him, you’ve been waiting just as long as he has. His length and girth are, truly too much, but you make it down, feeling the soft dark curls tickle your nose and cheeks. You wonder if your throat bulges, you’ll have to ask him later. He maintains the pace initially, hand snaking to the back of your head, but relinquishes control once you make it down his length. Your eyes peek open for a moment to see him fully engulfed into your mouth, eyes closed and muttering to you.

“Just as good as I thought you’d be, you’re so fucking good for me. You like me in your throat, baby? Like your Captain fucking your sweet little throat? Fuck.” Your hands sneak up, one running down his torso and feeling hair and corded muscle in your palm, the other one wrapped around one of his thighs. You feel him tense before he groans and pulls out of your mouth slowly. He meets you in the middle, leaning down to you as he pulls you up by your face to crush you in a kiss. The heady taste of his own cock filling his mouth as he deepens. Wanting to drown in you. His hands cradling your face, he drops one to find in between your thighs, rubbing passively around your clit, not quite enough pressure to be satisfying as you wiggle for more contact. He pulls away briefly to slap at your thighs before continuing, a check to obey. The other hand sneaks down and puts a easy pressure around the top of your throat. Not squeezing too hard, but enough to get your attention and keep you aware.

You’ve never seen his eyes so intense, he’d eat you whole if he could. He can’t help but tighten his fingers around your throat for a moment, you’re so fucking delicious. “As much as I want your sweet little mouth I need to feel you, baby. Ugh, I fucking—“ he hitches, bonking his forehead against yours, barely able to contain himself as he closes his eyes. “Tell me what you want love.” He says with a now steady voice. “Tell me how you want me and I’ll do it.”

“Let me make it up to you daddy.” You whisper, throat vibrating his large hand. His eyes shoot back open as the name shoots right to his dick. He desperately tries to remember if the medic talked about his heart at all at his last checkup, it won’t make it at this rate. He lets you go as you get up from the couch, mildly unsteady from all the angles you’ve been in today. His hands never leaving your body, he lets you position him, in a sitting position on the couch, hips forward so he’s at an angle, legs open. You can’t look at him too long like this. Fully splayed open, a lifetimes worth of muscles and scars and hard work displayed on a truly perfect canvas. He starts to pump his cock again, as he returns the look. Whatever you were, flaws and all, would always be exactly what he wanted. He understood why all those guys from the past made their wives into marble statues. He already wants to keep you forever.

You both get mildly distracted as Ghost and Soap quietly exclaim at the same time, now fully nude as Ghost positions him on his knees on the couch, hands warming his ass as he pumps himself from behind. If you see any more fit, perfect men today you are sure you’d die. “Christ, bird. Give John a show for us, he’s been waiting for ya’.” The look Ghost gives is downright sinful and he maintains eye contact as he slips into Johnnys hole. The moan that slips out of his mouth makes your pussy pulse.

Your attention comes back to Price as you crawl into his lap, rubbing your hands over his shoulders before settling around his jaw and hold his head up, hovering over his cock. “I’ve been yours since the first day I met you, John.” Your eyes rake over his features up close, running your thumbs over his lips and cheeks. “I. Feel like I’m right with you. Like I don’t feel so out of balance.” His hands snake around your waist, running his hand down your spine. You drop to his ear, wanting at least one thing just between you and him. “I’ve loved you for a long time, I’m sorry it took so long to say I—“ you get cut off by lips on yours. Not rough, but almost bruising kiss as he explores your body. Like he’s mapping it to memory. He breaks away after what seems like an eternity and whispers into yours “Show me.”

You give him your doe eyes, full of lust as you lean back, putting your hands on his knees and putting yourself on blessed display. You bring one hand between you two as you guide his cock to your entrance. His mouth drops open as he feels the tight wet heat crest the head. His head falls back to the couch as you start working yourself slowly around him, moaning as you go. “Fuck John, you’re so big,” you say breathlessly as you reach the bottom. You rock up and down, getting used to the absolutely full feeling inside and lean fully back onto his knees. You start to undulate your torso and hips ever so slightly, letting him see, showing off how he makes you feel. You close your eyes and moan, “I used to touch myself thinking how you’d feel. Your big fucking hands on me, in me. Fuck, Daddy.”

A growl rips out of him as the hands on your thighs tighten. You’re gonna be the death of him. He steals one of your hands from behind you and brings it to his mouth, licking your pointer and middle, getting them messy. He grabs your wrist and spits roughly on them one last time, and he brings your fingers to your clit.

“Show me, baby.” He commands, his combat voice leaking through. “Show daddy how you want him to touch you.” Your mouth drops open as you pick up the pace, rolling your body and hips up and down his length in earnest, and working your clit in little circles. Your tits shake to the rhythm as he takes you all in, arms spreading across the back of the couch. Your moans find a cadence, little “uh, uh, uh’s” a song in your Captains ears. His jaw tenses, positive he’d break a tooth if he clenched anymore. “I’m gonna make sure you can’t walk tomorrow. So fuckin’ perfect for me.” He squeezes out, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Your cadence starts to get sloppy in his lap, bouncing almost out of beat, rubbing your clit in quick circles. A whine sits high in your throat as you feel your orgasm build, your soft thighs bouncing on his sturdy lap. “Do you like it, daddy?” You squeak out. “Fuck, does, does it feel good?”

His hands move fast, taking your throat once again in his hands and forcing you to look at him. The other angling your hips on his cock as he finally thrusts back. Putting pressure on you, your eyes water as the light, fuzzy feeling starts to creep into your vision. “My perfect little pussy. Fuck daddy, sweetheart. Soak me, cum on daddy’s dick, come on!”

Static. Light. You feel your chest vibrate and your mouth move but can’t exactly hear as you cum. That wet feeling is back again as you feel it… everywhere. Dripping down your knees, splashing down to your ankles. Breath only comes to you shallowly. You tune in and out to a steady stream of names is being moaned into your ear as hearing returns. “Fucking such a good girl, my little whore, you did so good for me.” Hands pet your hair and warm your sides. You hear another set of strangled moans as Johnny gets louder beside you two. Ghost is fucking him fast and hard from behind, holding Johnny around his chest and keeping him up, both sets of eyes on you and John.

Your body moves on autopilot, delicate hands move off of John as you lift yourself and position yourself on your knees in front of Soap. Your fingers grip his cock, red and weepy with precum and he cries at the contact. So does Ghost, as his cock is being clenched in Soaps ass you figure. You bring your mouth down and take his head in your mouth and he can’t last. Refuses to. He cums, long and deep into your mouth, flexing his chest and almost ripping out of Simon’s arms. Simon finishes as well, hips shaking everyone as Soaps ass milks him for all he’s got. You bring yourself up, swallowing slowly and making sure Johnny sees you lick the remainder off your lips. He rips you forwards, kissing you and tasting himself. You wonder if you both will always taste like cum to each other from now on.

You feel hands rip you backwards and you fall into a big warm chest, bringing your legs up as he slots himself inside you, pussy on display to the others. You crane your neck to look at him, eyes wild, hazy, and he lands a messy kiss on the outside of your mouth, still tasting Johnny on your lips. One hand wraps around your waist as the other starts rubbing your clit in hard tight circles, just like you showed him. He hammers in to you, tits bouncing as you can’t do anything but yell. His thighs and your ass still tacky with your cum. You hold his arm tightly, trying to hold on for dear life as he speaks loudly in your ear, drowning out your moans. “Who’s are you, baby. Look them in the eye and say it.”

Your heart shatters for real this time. Overstimulated. Too many feelings all at once. Too much. Not enough. Everything you’ve always wanted as you moan loudly, “Yours! Ours!” Johnny and Simon look at you, holding each other gently. They both look back on it and say the same thing, it’s like looking into the sun. “That’s right, bird.” “Ours forever, love.”

John fucks into you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. His arm now a vice grip around you as you reach your crest again, splashing all over his thighs for a second time, in arcs and droplets all over the couch. “Ours. MINE.” He roars in your ear. He cums, hard inside you, pulses shaking you violently. His cock slips out as he pumps straight into the air, landing on your clit and pussy, making more of a mess as it drips out of your hole.

You weren’t really present for what happened after. Big, warm hands get you through a shower, keep you upright. Dry you off. A rogue hand occasionally playing with your clit before it gets slapped away by the others, chastised gently. “She’s had enough for one day, give her some time!” You find yourself coming back to, naked in a bed much larger than your own, swimming in a soft comforter. Bodies on both sides of you rub and pet you passively, just wanting some contact. You doze off, to kisses in your hairline and a bearded face tickling yours as it whispers in your ear, where no one else can hear.

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

[jamesdaycare]

A Wet Service, Part 2

"Oh but maybe you´re more of an ass guy... I also have a good behind! Do you want to see it?"

"Well, judging by the throbbing on your pee pee and the little drop I see forming on its tip, I think that´s a ´yes´. But are you sure you can handle it? Say ´yes miss´. Come on, use your big boy words."

"Hahaha you´re such a good boy! Well, a deal is a deal!"

"Ohhh, someone also likes big butts I see! You´d need a ladder to put your pee pee on my cheeks hahaha. Wanna touch? Oh yes, Miss Denise has very soft skin doesn’t she?".

"Now that you´ve seen everything you need, why don´t you start stroking your little fella? Oh you want me to stroke it for you? But you have to ask very nicely sweetie. Why don’t you use your baby voice and tell me: ‘Miss Denise, I weally am a widdle boy and I don’t know what to do with my pee pee. I need your hewp! I’m not a big boy yet and I’m afraid of doing this. Can you pwetty pwease hewp me?’”

“Awww sure sweetheart, Miss Denise can help you. And it’s really brave of you to admit you’re not a big boy yet! In general, Denise treats his big boys with a full night of wild sex. But I think a little handjob is more of your speed, don’t you think?”

“Now let me get on my knees so you can have my titties on full display. Another think I like to do with big boys is putting their penises in between them and stroke them. But I’m sure your little fella would get so lost in there he’ll start calling his own mommy to come and get him.” *giggle*

“I only grabbed it and I’m already feeling it throbbing! This is going to be fast! I bet all you need is just a few strokes to make your cum cums. Oh what’s that? You feel like peeing? Oh no, don’t worry, it’s the feeling you get when you’re about to cum. Why don’t you suck your thumb so you don’t worry about this? That’s a good boy!”

“Now do you wanna make your cummies? Do you wanna make your cummies for Miss Denise? Awww yes you do! Miss Denise will give your little pee pee a big kiss on its tip so you can blow your little load, okay baby? Now get ready!”

*MUAAAAAAAK*

*SPURT SPURT SPURT*

“Ohhh what a big boy! You made your cummies for Miss Denise! And look how much you’re cumming!”

*SPURT SPURT HISSSSSSSSSSS*

“Oh my, speaking of water!”

*HISSSSSSSSSSS*

“I think someone made an “uh-oh”, didn’t he? Awww baby yes, you were right! You really needed to go pee pee back then! And your little nub relaxed so much after his big boy accident that he couldn’t hold the babyish one. I’m really sorry cutie, I should have let you go potty. Next time I promise I’ll help you. We can even use the plastic potty you have next to your crib!”

“Damn, that’s a big mess you made on the carpet… Mommy’s not going to be happy about it! Uh-oh, I know that face… Is someone about to cry? Listen, I’d love to stay and help you with this, but I have to go visit another client. Just tell your mommy you couldn’t hold it, and suck your thumb so you don’t cry that much. Now give Miss Denise a big kiss on her cheek! *MUAK* That’s a good boy! Make sure to call me again! See you!”

[dontopenfairies]

“I’m on break so I only have about fifteen minutes, okay?” she tells him, pressing the phone between her chin and shoulder as she opens the door. It just rained and there are still a few puddles on the sidewalk, but the sun is out. She starts to walk along the block.

“Okay,” he says. “You don’t need to eat or anything?”

“I’m okay,” she says. Silence. She glances over her shoulder, back at the building. Then across the street. There’s no one around. “What are you wearing?” she breathes into the phone.

“Umm…just my sweater, my shirt, and jeans…and my socks and shoes, I guess.”

“That isn’t everything, is it?”

“And, um, and my…and a diaper.”

“That’s everything, isn’t it, honey?” She passes by a couple who are out walking, too.

“Yeah, that’s everything…”

“Wet or dry?” she asks, passing another woman who seems to be waiting for her dog to finish sniffing the base of a telephone pole. They could be talking about anything, the weather, the air in the house, maybe some kind of food…

“Um…I’m a little bit damp…”

“Aww, honeypie. Are you going to be okay by yourself?”

“Yeah, uh, for now…”

“I’ll get you…um…I can help you out as soon as I’m home, okay, baby? Just make sure there aren’t any leaks again.” Maybe they’re talking about an issue with the car, the roof after the rain, maybe the toilet needed to be repaired…

“There won’t be any leaks,” he says, laughing. “I’ll be okay, Mommy.”

“Just go ahead and sit over the toilet if you’re worried you’ve gone pee too much, okay?” Uh-oh. That was a little more explicit. Luckily no one is around.

“Mommy! Aren’t you in public?!”

“Oops, I know, I know. Just…just remember not to change it before I get there, okay?” She’s walking by another pair of people. Maybe it’s that there’s an air purifier filter that he needed help with, or…

“I won’t. I mean…I wouldn’t want to do it by myself, anyway.”

“No, of course not.” She’s pretty far out from the office, now. She turns around and begins the walk back.

“There is just one thing though…I’m definitely going to need to mess at some point, uh…”

“Aww. Soon?”

“Yeah, um, probably kind of soon. I just had lunch and you know how I…oh, I think I’m peeing again.” There’s a soft crinkling over the phone. “Oh, yeah, I definitely am.”

“Okay, baby boy, we’ll get you sorted as soon as I get home. Go ahead and just poop if you have to, okay? Shh, shh, it’s fine. There’s literally nobody on this block, okay? Besides, why should I be embarrassed? I’m not the one who goes…”

“Mommy, stop!!” She hears a little thump and she’ll bet anything he’d hit his hand down on the table like he always does when she makes him feel really embarrassed and shy.

“Aw, I’m sorry, honey. Okay, Mommy has to go back to work now. Text me if you think of anything you need and I can pick it up on the way home.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

“You are such a good boy.” She’s almost back to the door. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

[personaje-fics]

For @merlinmicrofic. Prompt "And the truth?"

Merlin/Lancelot, Gen, No Warnings. AO3

---

Lancelot almost quite literally bumped into Merlin while rounding a corridor. The first thing he noticed about him was his alarmed blue eyes and how tightly he gripped a bag in his hands.

“You’re in a hurry!” he smiled, placing a hand on Merlin’s arm. “Where are you going?” Lately, he hadn’t been able to reign in the urge to get as physically close to Merlin as he was allowed, to touch him as much as he could get away with. Merlin hadn’t brought it up. Yet.

“To the lower town. A family has come down with a sickness and Gaius sent me to take care of it before it spreads.”

As he spoke, Merlin looked at him straight in the eye. His voice didn’t waver. His body moved naturally, the same expressions and little shifts he always made when he talked. He was a good liar. But Lancelot knew that wasn’t the bag he used to carry medicines.

Lancelot stepped closer. “That’s a great story.” He squeezed, gently, Merlin’s arm. “And the truth?”

“Sorry I… I don’t know why I—”

“It’s okay.” He didn’t hold it against Merlin, being unable to shake off the habit of lying to everyone. Even if it stung, just a little. “What’s in the bag?”

“I can’t show you, but I need to go to the forest to, uh, release it.” Lancelot looked up at Merlin’s eyes when he realised he had been staring at his lips. “If you see Arthur, tell him I’m in the lower town.” He was changing the subject. “Do not say I’m at the tavern please, I’ve had—”

“Merlin,” Lancelot interrupted him. “The bag?”

Merlin looked around. They were alone, but still, he leaned closer to Lancelot, his lips almost touching Lancelot’s ear. He shuddered when Merlin’s breath found his neck.

“Aithusa,” Merlin whispered. It took a moment for the words to make sense.

“ The dragon?” he whispered. Merlin stepped back, shushing him. Lancelot missed his closeness immediately. “What— How—”

“I have no idea!” Merlin sounded like he had been stressed out the whole morning wondering the same thing. “I woke up and she was there making a mess and I need to get her out!”

Merlin started walking away. Lancelot walked next to him.

“When are you coming back?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Before sundown. No one will even notice I was gone.”

Lancelot would have noticed. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, don’t worry.”

Lancelot knew Merlin was perfectly capable of doing these things himself. But sometimes, selfishly, he wished Merlin would ask for his help. He wished Merlin needed him for more than just a cover story now and then.

Merlin sped up, intent on ending the conversation and leaving the castle. Lancelot slowed down until he came to a stop. He watched Merlin’s back as he walked outside.

He debated for a moment. Merlin didn’t need him. But maybe— just maybe, he wouldn’t turn him away.

Lancelot followed him.

[parkersbliss]

Met Him Last Night | P. Graves

pairing: phillip graves x gender neutral reader 

synopsis: you make a decision to trust him, just this once. don't be surprised when it backfires.

warnings: graves, mentions of soap's death, possible timeline inaccuracies, one sexual reference

a/n: based on the song "met him last night" by demi lovato ft. ariana grande :) down bad for this man pls he's my american babe

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for call of duty!

—

“Red or white?” 

“Neither.” 

“White it is,” They tell the server, pointing to one of the names.

You sigh, leaning back in your seat. What were you doing this late at night here? With him? 

Graves is sitting in front of you, smirking at your sour expression and you want to rip it off his face. 

The server returns with the bottle and two glasses, pouring it for both of you. Graves thanks him and then gestures for you to take a sip. He grabs his glass, raises it to you in a toast, and waits. You hesitate for a second before grabbing the other glass. After all, what’s there to lose? You’ve already sat here with him, might as well make it more bearable. 

“That’s more like it,” He chuckles as you take a huge gulp. It has a hint of white peaches, delicate, but rich and intense as you finish it. 

You set the glass back down. “You’re an instigator.” 

“So they tell me,” He replies with ease. “But isn’t this so much more fun than drowning in your own sorrows?” 

You’ll give him that, at least. You weren’t sure why you thought this was a good idea. You don’t really believe in Graves and what he stood for. Or lack of what he stood for. 

Yet, here you were, sat in this restaurant with him, indulging him when you shouldn’t. A meeting with the devil. 

“You know you don’t have to like so sour to be here, darlin’. It was your choice to contact me.” 

“I’m starting to regret that,” You mumble, knowing he was right. In a moment of weakness, you begged for a contact with him and did some dingy shit, but you got it. You should at least give him a chance after all that hard work. 

“I’m not good enough company?” 

“I’ve had better.” 

He fakes a frown. “Hurtful, really. But I know you’re mourning, so I’ll let it slide.” 

You roll your eyes. “How generous of you.” 

“You know, they do say I am quite a giver.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Giver? He must have spoken wrong, he was a digger. Grave digger or gold digger. They both fit him. “Well, that’s some bullshit.” 

Graves laughs, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “No, I’m generous to the right people,” He corrects you. “My shadows get bonuses every year for Christmas.” He extends a hand to gesture at the table. “I’m paying for our lovely dinner tonight. Think that must constitute for something.” 

“Thank you,” You said, honestly. He was right after all, you called him here and all you’ve done is hurl insults at him. “I’m sorry.” 

He quirks a brow. ��For what?” 

“I could be better company.”

“Ah, nonsense!” He waves a hand, dismissing your apology. His voice lowers, “Anyone in your position would be the same way, snippy and all.” 

“I’m not snippy!” You’re quick to defend. Though the look on his face says you might have just proven his point. “A little snippy,” You admit. 

“And that’s okay. It’s never easy losing a teammate to something so… preventable.” 

You clench your jaw at that mention and he takes quick notice. “But enough of that. Let’s talk about you.” 

“What about me?” 

“Anything you like, darlin’.” 

“I have a cat,” You blurt out. 

“Do ya?”

You nod. “Yeah, my friend takes care of him while I’m away. He’s uh… a tuxedo.” You pull out your phone to show him a picture. “He’s a little shit.” 

Graves leans in to look at the photo of your cat. “He’s cute, can’t blame him.” 

You snort. “I can’t have a Christmas tree 'cause he scales that thing to the top.” 

“So he likes a little fun.” Graves shrugs. “Don’t see nothin’ wrong with that.” 

You shake your head, a little amused. Of course, he would say that. “It’s more than that.” 

“Then tell me.” 

The conversion becomes easy after that. After you stopped insulting him, at least. Anyone who knew you knew the easiest way to get you to open up was through your cat. Maybe the wine is getting to your head, but he’s not so bad. Phillip makes you laugh, you make him laugh. You banter, you rant, you cry, and he understands. He promises you exactly what you’re looking for.

“We don’t play by the rules, darlin’. Believe me, I can get you exactly what you want.” 

You’re gone after that, having split the bottle of wine between the two of you. Any rational thoughts of what’s wrong and right have left your mind. The devil has promised you something, and he always keeps them. And perhaps you’ve promised something you shouldn’t have. 

He pays the bill, he walks you home with a hand on your back, and he stands at your doorway saying ‘goodnight.’ 

But you don’t want to be alone. 

He spends the night. Once. Twice. Three times. Too many to keep track of, but you didn’t care to anymore. Not when you sang Phillip’s praises when he was between your legs, or when he’s bringing you flowers when he sees you, or holding you late at night as you continue to mourn and find comfort in someone like him. 

There’s something warm and fuzzy about him. Something that makes your head spin and your legs weak. You don’t think when he’s around (maybe that’s the problem), but you don’t need to. 

“Never have to worry your pretty head ‘bout a thing darlin’.” Phillip would say, and so you did. 

You let him take care of your plan, your revenge, his promise. You let him take of you, healing some part of you that hadn’t after you lost Johnny. 

At least that’s what you thought, but maybe you got lost along the way, turned around, and headed straight into his arms. 

He made it so easy after all, didn’t he? To believe in him, that is. And you did a fucked up thing, really. A mistake on your part. Phillip had loyalty to no one but his shadows. For you to even think he’d extend that to you? Well, you had to be stupid or in love. 

And you weren’t stupid. 

You storm around your apartment, phone gripped tightly in your hand. You were fucked.

“Are you kidding me?” You practically scream. 

“Darlin’, please, it’s not personal.” 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You used me.” You’re practically fuming at him. He was smart, finding you when you were vulnerable, and letting you reach out first. He prayed on your innocence, on your hurt. You damn sure weren’t letting that happen again. 

“Used is such a strong term,” Graves chides. “And really, I didn’t. You’re overreacting sweetness. This has nothing to do with you.” 

“It has everything!” 

You can hear his eye roll through the phone. “Would you just trust me on this?”

“Are you being serious? No! I’m never making that mistake again.” Graves didn’t wear disguises. You should’ve seen right through him. You knew better now. How could you ever have thought to believe him? Someone like him, with only a history of deceiving. You were there when he turned his back on you in Las Almas, at Shepard in the courtroom, and yet you believed him. He was your vice, your flaw, your reason. 

He was horrible in so many ways, but you came back every time. You craved him holding you at night, wiping the tears away. The way he’d kiss you when you would meet up, his hands roaming your body— you’d never felt this way.

“(Y/N),” He drawls and you want to fall for it, but you don’t. 

“No, I’m done. I’m leaving.” 

“Don’t be like this.” 

“You gave me a pretty damn good reason to leave. This is on you.” 

He chuckles through the phone. “If you’d let me explain, you’d see I’m not such a bad guy.” 

You shake your head. “No,” You said firmly. “No, you betrayed me and I betrayed my team.”

What were they going to think of you after this? You weren’t like this, so reckless, engaging with the enemy. No one expected this from you, and you certainly didn’t expect it from yourself, to fall so hard. But you weren’t going down without a fight. 

You bounce back like you always did. “This is the last call we’re having, Graves.” You practically spit his name out and he’s hurt when you hang up. You were always so stubborn with him. So quick to dismiss his reasons, like you’re looking for a reason to hate him. Whatever, you’ll come back. You’ll see he did this for you. He was not a bad guy, he was carrying out the plan you wanted. It just happened he had to screw over a couple people for it. He just didn’t expect you to get so worked up over it. 

You dial the next person, heart thundering. 

“(Y/N)?” A voice calls out, familiar to you and you hope they won’t hate you. That was the last thing you needed right now. You lost Johnny, and now you lost Graves (it’s a good thing you tell yourself, but your heart says otherwise), you couldn’t lose your team too. 

“Kyle, I,” You swallow, tears clouding your vision when you realize what you’ve done. “I fucked up.” 

– END –

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[mumms-the-word]

Yet another Veilguard update with the usual good, the bad, the ugly, and the me freaking out about minor references and callbacks haha

This one is very long sorry

So since the last update I have done as much side content as possible before heading to the Hossberg Wetlands and later Weisshaupt (which I just completed last night) which included, briefly, unlocking all of the solas regrets murals

And uh WOW was that whole deep dive a doozy. I definitely should have spaced out the murals over time rather than movie-marathoned them back to back. But the things I learned about Solas…it’s insanity

In a good way

In a really horrifying way

I loved that our theories about Solas being a spirit of Wisdom first were confirmed, and I lost my mind over the fact that the first elves were spirits who gained physical bodies by taking Titan blood (aka lyrium). And the fact that Solas CREATED THE BLIGHT by essentially making the Titans Tranquil?? And that’s why Dwarves don’t dream????

Losing my mind. Solas what have you DONE.

I still ahev to process it all haha but I do have a few thoughts

So far, I wish there was more engagement with these elements and the Chant of Light. The companions react and say that these reveals basically dismantle Andrastianism but the Chant has several allegorical parallels to what, apparently, really happened. The Maker’s first children were spirits, and all that…so I kind of wish the Chantry had a bigger presence in the game with more reactivity

But that’s a post for another day. For now, I reloaded back to only 3 murals unlocked so the team only knows the story up to Solas creating the Veil. I’ll rewatch the others later.

I got worried about being locked out of stuff so I went ahead and did as much side content as I could with a couple of exceptions. Turns out, I probably didn’t need to do that and it would have made more sense narratively if I hadn’t. More on that in a minute

The Siege of Weisshaupt mission was SO GOOD!! Like…the main missions are really where this game shines, I think. I have gripes with some of the companion conversations, but in the actual story missions, the action, the intensity, all of it is so good. And I thought Ghilan’nain turning her archdemon into a many-headed hydra creature was *chefs kiss* so cool. I love fighting big/unique stuff like that!

All that said the follow up scene with the team at the table leaves…a lot to be desired

Listen, DA games pride themselves on bringing together a team of companions that players adore and fall in love with. Naturally we enjoy helping out our companions because we like them. We don’t have to be told to help them because we just generally do that…and if we don’t then, rip, suffer the consequences

So I got a bit annoyed when the scene suddenly turned to a very overt “fix our problems” narrative

I don’t know, that feels so…forced to me. Varric literally tells me I have to solve everyone’s problems. Which is like…I was going to! Because they’re my friends! But being straight up told like “hey you have to solve everyone’s problems and stop their distractions or this team isn’t going to function” is like…I’m sorry are we adults or aren’t we? Why am I being told to babysit the team? Can you guys not pursue these distractions on your own rather than wait for me to give you permission? Did we all forget that two gods are out there rampaging? That they’re strong enough to destroy a fortress that stood against the blight and various conflicts for over 900 years? That they haven’t stopped and show no signs of stopping anytime soon?

But no, by all means, tell me in very obvious terms that my job is now to reconcile all your differences before I face the gods again. That doesn’t feel very handed at all.

Let me be clear. I love to help my companion. I love the idea that you build a team that works well because you have shaped them via your leadership skills. I love the idea that your team works well because you have invested in them. That’s really the heart of any DA game—gather your team, earn their loyalty, and see how well the friends you’ve made along the way assist you in the big battles to come.

But…that scene around the kitchen table could have been so much better, so much more nuanced, and far less “Solve their problems.”

To me, that scene should have been everyone fighting, calling out everyone’s distractions and mistakes, and essentially devolving into outright arguments over the table until Rook yells at everyone to shut up. Everyone is mad, everyone is upset. And then maybe the companions are like “sorry Rook, listen, I have a lot on my mind. I’m still going to help with the Big Problem but I’m also going to pursue this Other Thing whether you like it or not.” No suggestion that it’s now your problem to solve, but a heavy hint that it might get done more quickly if you help (which also gives you room to be an ass and not help). In this scenario, everyone ends up being very disgruntled with you, but you still have your hint that you need to pursue companion questlines if you want to see their cool abilities or special items or get them to be a Hero of the Veilguard or whatever…but that’s just my opinion

Basically I wanted subtly and tension. So much more tension.

What we got instead was a couple of annoyed comments and then Emmrich being like “oh dear we’re all distracted by the things that bother us” and everyone offering up distractions that, yes, need to be resolved…but it’s very easy to be like “hey bud the Hand of Glory and the Nadas Dirthalen can wait until the gods aren’t threatening to destroy the world I think.”

It’s not the worst scene in the world, but it could have been reframed better. Either frame it as “Sorry Rook but none of these factions trust you enough to aid you in the fight, you have to prove yourself to them” (and loop in the companion questlines that way) or show your team literally unraveling because they can’t get along or agree with you—now you see the evidence of what you need to fix, and nobody has to outright tell you to “solve everyone’s distractions.” It’s just implied. Because you saw them fighting. A lot.

Like duh I knew I’d have to resolve everyone’s problems if I want them to like me or stick around! That’s just what I’ve come to expect from RPG games like this. It’s an expectation of the genre. But I don’t want to be told that’s my job now. If anything it triggers my contrarian nature and now I want to see what bad ending I get when I don’t listen to the game’s extremely heavy push for me to deal with everyone’s issues

I won’t, but I’m tempted

I just…wanted it to be better. I want see everyone bitching at each other until everyone leaves in a huff and Rook just sits at the table, head in their hands like “oh my god everyone hates me and they hate each other and we’re going to die if everyone can’t get their shit together”

Then maybe Varric sits down next to them and goes, “Hey kid, did I ever tell you about the time Hawke tried to convince a Rivaini pirate, a weird abomination, a Dalish blood mage, a stiff-necked captain of the guard, a broody elf who glowed in the dark, and a few other friends besides to all agree to fight as a team to stop a qunari invasion in Kirkwall? It worked, more or less. By the end of the night, everyone had worked together enough to end up with one dead Arishok and an entire city’s gratitude.”

Maybe Rook looks up and says, “And how’d they manage that little miracle? Without everyone trying to kill each other in the process.”

And maybe Varric smiles and shrugs. “They had their differences, trust me. Half the time you couldn’t put two of them in a room together without a fight breaking out. But they all believed in one thing. They believed in Hawke.”

Then maybe there’s a pause, as he lets Rook consider that for a moment, before he stands up and says, “It’s a good bedtime story, in any case. I’ll let you sleep on it.”

Sigh. It just would have been cool…

Now in all fairness the scene felt even clunkier because I had actively been doing side quests and helping out my friends so it was like…it felt weird to have this implication that I’m not already helping them. It makes me think I shouldn’t do any of their side quests until after the Siege of Weisshaupt but who knows

I keep pendulum swinging back and forth between moments of brilliance and moments that leave me baffled and wondering who made some of these narrative/writing calls. I don’t hate the game by any stretch of the imagination. Like I said the Siege of Weisshaupt was amazing! And I loved the callbacks to precious games! You should have seen me live reacting and screaming about codexes in the Weisshaupt library haha But it’s like whiplash when something that good is followed up by a scene that feels excessively more hamfisted in comparison.

Anyway I am very busy this weekend and dunno when I’ll get to write another update soooo if you’re following for more, hope to give you more updates in the near-ish future!