#but I think it's nice to write once in a while

[deadhands69]

A Fantasy with Nice Shoulders

MDNI

Katsuki Bakugo helps you after you're hit with a sex quirk, based on the same idea as the Shigaraki one here

Katsuki Bakugo x gn/afab reader

All characters in 3rd year, over 18 and you should be too if you're reading this

Warnings/Content/etc: soft but slightly possessive Bakugo, swearing, very light violence, oral (m/f receiving), slightly public/people listening, sex (various positions), walk of shame.

*the start’s a little angsty but idk how to write anything that doesn’t turn into mushy fluffy smut 

**a lot of feelings of not consenting to being hit by the quirk, but the actual physical interactions are very much consensual/have been wanted for a while

***this one’s long, it got a bit out of hand [4.9k words]

“They thought it would be funny” you hear someone say. A black cloud of dust had just dissipated, leaving a shocked Monoma and Mineta in the middle. “I don’t think they actually realized how dangerous what they did is” added another voice. 

You had all heard of the sex quirk villain terrorizing the city. Every news station had been talking about it all week. 

While on patrol for his internship this morning, Monoma picked the villain’s quirk up attempting to apprehend him to no avail. After some brief convincing from Mineta, they assumed it would be a fun prank to make all of the fem-bodied 3rd years a little horny. What they didn’t realize is this quirk doesn’t just make people a little turned on, it drives them to insanity if not dealt with. 

“A new article was posted on this today, the effects are worse than previously assumed.” you hear Iida’s nearly robotic voice over the crowd “It can cause permanent damage to quirks and mental stability if intercourse isn’t acted upon promptly!”

Oh, I could fucking kill them you think before launching yourself across the room. Monoma dodges and yells that he’s so sorry and will make it right before running out the door to get help. Mineta on the other hand, is still in shock.

You make quick work of him, leaving him tied to a chair in the common area covered in bruises. The teachers will arrive soon with Monoma and they can deal with it. Turning away and walking to your dorm room, you hear him hurling some insult at you but can’t be bothered to listen.

Most of your classmates are trickling out of the area. Fortunately, the others in your class affected by the quirk all seem to be taken care of. Your best friend Shoto is even leaving with his crush. You’re happy for him but can’t say it doesn’t hurt a bit that he didn’t bother to check on you. It’s not a big deal though, Momo needs help. 

And you’ll be fine. 

You think. 

Or maybe you won’t be.

The happiness for your friends using this as a catalyst to confess to their crushes feels sharply in contrast with the overwhelming loneliness and dread you feel walking back to your room alone. Sure, you have a crush on someone too but he left earlier this morning and you didn’t expect him to be back until tomorrow night. Bakugo frequently leaves on the weekends to visit his parents.

You consider texting Denki or Kiri for his number but they just left with their crushes as well and you’d rather not interrupt them. 

Besides, even if Bakugo was here, you don’t think that would make much of a difference. To put it lightly, he doesn’t seem to be into you. When you and Shoto hang out in the common area like you always do, his red eyes glare at you from across the room. Just seeing you seems to put him in a bad mood. He doesn’t even yell at you like everyone else, seeming to ignore your mistakes as if they aren’t worth his time to correct. He did argue with you once, the first day of school but when you threw it back at him he just stared at you. After that, he always seemed indifferent. It was disappointing, his sass seems like it could be fun sometimes. 

You’d since written it off as a lost cause and tried to move on. Still, there’s something that draws you to him that you can’t quite place. Something in his eyes that hints things could be different. 

You close the door to your dorm, comforted by the familiar space. Iida’s words ring out in your head again “...permanent damage...”

That’s just one article, maybe this won’t be as bad as they say you think before a dizzy spell makes you double over.

Flopping face first into your bed, you scream into your pillow.

Katsuki Bakugo just got back from the gym, walking into an uncharacteristically deserted common room. It is Saturday, right? His eyes light up when he sees Mineta still bound to the chair you left him in.

You didn’t fucking ask for this.

Someone finally snapped, good for them. He’s a little sad to have missed it. 

“What happened?”

Mineta stammers at the looming figure above him before blurting out random bits of the story. “t-the villain. Sex quirk. And Monoma- we thought it was harmless but then-”

Of course he’d heard all about this quirk, who hadn’t. Clearly Mineta.

“Are you that fucking stupid?”

“N-no we just thought-” 

Bakugo was losing interest, having put the dots together by now. At this point, Mineta was rambling how it would be okay, listing the names of their classmates who had left together.

“Jiro and Kaminari, Ochaco and Midor-”

“Raccoon eyes and Red, [y/n] and Icy Hot, yeah yeah”

“What? No. Todoroki didn’t leave with [y/n], he left with Momo.”

“Huh?” Curiosity replacing the disappointment in his voice. “Who’s with [y/n] then?”

“No one, they left alone. Serves them right. That delinquent’s the one who did this to me!”

“Glad someone finally did,” Bakugo mutters under his breath, smacking Mineta with a small blast while walking past him to the stairs.

Back in your room: you’re losing it. Every article says the same thing: you’re fucked. You’d read as many as you could before the overwhelming desire became too much to handle and you couldn’t keep track of the sentences anymore. You tried to fix it yourself too, but no matter how hard you tried your touch only seemed to amplify the problem. Leaving you feeling overheated, your panties desperately drenched. It’s only been fifteen minutes, this will get even worse.  

“Oh come on, you can’t just leave me here - wait!”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

It’s probably one of your friends, you think, wondering who would bang so loudly on your door (also who finished that quickly????) In the heat of the quirk, you’d taken off your hoodie - leaving you in a nearly see through white tank top and the tiny athletic shorts you’d been wearing all day. Your friend’s wouldn’t care though.

KNOCK KNOCK.

You make your way to the door, thighs clenching around your aching groin as you walk. Swinging it open, you find yourself face to face with a black skull hoodie. Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest before remembering, he doesn’t like you. And he’s not even supposed to be here this weekend. Why’s he here?

“Bakugo, why are you here?” you grumble, sounding much more gruff than intended.

“Uh, nice to see you too?” his fingers tap impatiently on the door frame next to your shoulder.

“Any other day, I’d love to word spar with you but today I just can’t.” you turn to close the door.

“Why? Are you mad your crush left with someone else?” 

“What?” you rub your eyes in confusion before getting distracted. Bakugo is hot in workout clothes on a normal day. This quirk was rendering it nearly impossible to concentrate on his words. Not with the way every muscle in his thighs appears to be sculpted into his pants, leading up to his-

“Icy Hot.” he repeats himself, “He left with pony tail. ‘s why you’re pissed, right?”

Oh, that. You’d forgotten about that.

“What? No. Shoto and I are just friends. Besides, he’s had a crush on her forever and she needed his help.” you say blankly.

“You needed help too though,” that one stung. He continues, “sounds like a shitty friend if you ask me.”

“Look. If you’re just here to criticize my friendships, I can’t deal with it right now. Are you done?“ your voice breaks. You step back slightly, hoping to hide in the dimness of your room. He’s not wrong, but you really don’t want him to see you cry. 

“I-” he notices the tear in the corner of your eye and knows that one hit too close. He’s off to a bad start. If he keeps talking like that, you’ll definitely slam the door in his face. 

Much more quietly he tries again. “Look. I didn’t mean to- fuck, I’m so bad this.” Biting his lip, he wipes his hands on his pants before shoving them in the front of his hoodie. His cheeks flush, making the scar under his eye look pale in comparison. Is he nervous? That can’t be it.

Regaining his composure, he looks back at you. “I came to see if you’re okay, if you n-need anything.” 

It’s the most quiet you’d ever seen him. He can’t look you in the eyes. Glancing down, he notices how see-through your shirt is before quickly looking away. He focuses hard on the walls of your room, hands still deep in his pocket.

Of course you’d always wanted Katsuki Bakugo in your dorm room, but assumed it would be different. You imagined that one day he’d start fighting with you like everyone else and fighting would turn into play fighting which would turn into him being nice every once in a while. You always assumed, under his prickly exterior, he’d be soft and sweet inside. You’d never seen it though. Not even when the prettiest girls in your school threw themselves at him, only to be on the receiving end of an explosion. Still, you hoped maybe one day you’d be the one who could break through that, finding something loving underneath. Your crush was all built on a fantasy, but it was a nice fantasy. A nice fantasy, with nice shoulders. 

Back to reality.

He at least thought to be here now, which is better than the apathy you were used to. It’s a start.

Closing the door behind him, you turn to walk back to your bed when the world shifts. The dizziness had been coming in waves, this is just another one. You could expect it now. Tensing to hit the ground, you’re engulfed by his athletic arms instead.

“Come in,” you whisper “I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Holy shit [y/n], you okay?” he holds you in his arms, looking down at your face.

“Oh, yeah. This has just been happening,” you trail off, hardly aware of what you’re saying. You’re trying to find up from down, only to find every direction your body leads you to is him.

“This has been happening the whole time??” his clenched jaw could easily be mistaken for anger but the waver in his voice gives away his concern. He doesn’t seem to mind you grasping his sweatshirt to right yourself. His body feels warm against you, much warmer than you - making you wonder how he’s managing to be so overdressed right now. Pulling closer, he feels firm under his soft worn hoodie. He smells like laundry detergent and deodorant, with a subtle sweetness. The throbbing in your tight shorts worsens, the quirk-induced ache leaves you feeling empty. You need more of this. More of him.

The dizziness passes and you’re back on your feet. He lets go of you but keeps his arms near as you steady yourself against the wall. 

Deep breath. If your friends managed to confess to their crushes today, you can too. Your situation might be a bit different, but he’s not stupid. He knew very well what he was walking into when he showed up. He has to expect this.

Here it goes. 

“Bakugo?”

“Yeah? D’ya need somethin?”

“I need your help.”

“Whaddya need?”

“You.”

He nods, understanding. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Really?” That’s all it took? Holy shit.

“Pshh. What kind of a damned hero would I be if I can’t even fuck a sex quirk out of ya?” the mock confidence would normally make you cringe but he stepped closer and your face is now inches from his. His hands move to the wall behind you, caging you between his arms. Looking down at you, he pauses.

He wants to throw you on the bed. To shove you face first into the mattress and make you scream his name all day for every other girl in the dorms to hear while they’re being awkwardly fumbled by amateurs. He wants to fuck you as hard as he can, so good it’ll ruin anyone else for you. He wants to make everyone jealous of you. 

But when he’s right here with you. 

When he leans in closer. 

His lips barely brush against yours. 

Bringing his arms down from the wall, he cups your cheeks. Holding you softly, pulling you in closer but just as sweet. It isn’t the rough boldness you would expect from him, but it was explosive in its own way. Every subtle move of his lips drags up wishful feelings you’d been burying deep inside you for the past three years.

He pulls back for air, his heavy eyelids opening to see you confused at him.

“Oh.” you breathe.

“Did I do somethin wrong?”

“No, I just didn't expect that.”

He rolls his eyes. 

“You’re just being… nicer than I expected,” you clarify. Understatement of the fucking year.

“’m never mean to you” he mumbles. Even in the low lighting you can see how hard he’s blushing. To hide his embarrassment, he closes the gap between your lips again - this time with more confidence. Mouthes pressing together, his tongue dancing with yours.

Taking this as an invitation to move forward, your hands embrace his body. Exploring every inch you’d only dreamed of. The soft skin of his neck you’d grown accustomed to staring at sitting behind him in class. The ridges of his back you watch flex under his suit when he’s training. You take off his sweatshirt to run your hands over his arms, his black tank top giving you a better view of the muscles and scars that cover them. Fingers lingering on every curve. You pull your hands from the top of his chest down to his thighs. Your touch veers up his inner leg when his hand grabs your wrist, stopping you.

Grimacing at himself for the pause, he bites his lip to collect his words.

He definitely can’t say he hasn’t thought about doing this with you. He has. Constantly. To a point, he maybe wondered if it was unhealthy. It’s actually the reason he went to the gym this morning, he needed to think of anything else but your ass in the tiny little shorts you were wearing while casually making a cup of coffee. The ones you’re wearing now, pressed up against him.

But having you now? Like this?

“Wait.” His voice is gritty but softer than you’d expect.“What?” 

“Things ain’t gonna be weird with us, right?”

“No weirder than ever. Why?” 

He looks away momentarily. Not wanting to say it if you hadn’t been thinking the same thing. For his own sake though, he can’t bring himself to leave this unaddressed.

“Cuz I skipped a few steps, I was supposta take you out and stuff first.”

“Well, I’ll let you know to ask me out in advance next time I plan to get hit with a sex quirk.”

“‘m serious. ‘m not fucking this up.” 

“You can take me out later.” you smile, his eyes soften looking into yours. Something in his stare makes you melt like ice cream on a summer day. Is this the sweetness you’d always dreamed of?

Feeling too hot, you take off your tank top, throwing it on the ground nearby. His eyes drop and the corner of his mouth creeps into a smile. His hands move to your waist before gliding up to trace the shape of you. He follows your lead - pulling his shirt off and exposing the scars scattered over his toned body.

Granting your own wish, your hands trail down the V along his hips and into his pants. Closer, you need to be closer.

Without thinking you drop to your knees. The pants don’t leave much to the imagination, his outline appearing rock hard already (and he didn’t even get hit with that quirk). Peeling back the fabric, his cock bounces out heavily. It’s massive in a way that would usually scare you but with the audaciousness of a sex quirk taking over your inhibitions, you only want it more. Grasping the soft skin with both hands, you bring the dripping pink tip to your mouth. You have to. It’s so beautiful and you need it. He gasps as your tongue lolls out and you bob your head forward.   

One of his hands finds your neck, thumb gently caressing the back of your head; the other planted on his own face leaning over you with his elbow into the wall to steady himself. You watch his abs flex with every heavy breath before your eyes find his.  

“Fuck, you’re so fucking good” he groans. You moan at the sound of his voice, sending vibrations through him.

He doesn’t last long. To be honest, he’s a little embarrassed by this but he really had been thinking about you in these shorts all day and didn’t expect this to happen. Less than a minute later, his hips are sputtering while he whimpers “wait, [y/n] gonna cum.”

Perfect.

Even in your throat, you can’t take him all the way in at this angle. Increasing the speed of your hands, you pull your mouth back enough to look up at his face again while still working his sensitive tip. His brows furrow and he bites his lip, exhaling hard while gripping your hair tighter. 

“Fuck… cumming” he whines through clenched teeth. His dick gushing in your mouth.

You stare up into his crimson eyes, licking him while letting his load drip through your lips down your chest. The astounded look on his face says he’s into it. 

Milking out the last drop, you let him gaze at you while catching his breath. You grab your tank top to wipe your chest and face off but he’s already pulling you up before you can finish. Pressing you back into the wall. His lips find yours as he cups his hand around your cheek.

“So fucking pretty,” he mumbles between kisses, “now it’s my turn.”

Suddenly, his strong hands grip the backs of your thighs. Not removing his lips from yours, he carries you across the room to your bed. Laying you across his lap, he takes the shirt still in your hands and finishes cleaning his cum off of you. Still worked up, every touch he gives is met with your moans. Noticing this, he works his hands around your body. Lightly grazing and squeezing where he pleases. Taking off the shorts he’d been daydreaming about removing all day. You’re soaked through your panties, pressing hard into him as his fingers gently pass over you.

“Wanna sit on my face?” he asks, knowing you’re dying to grind into him any way you can.

Absolutely, you do.

A little too eagerly, you shove him back onto your bed - he doesn’t mind. First, you peel the wet fabric from between your legs. Climbing over him, you position yourself above his face. Your ankles slide under his shoulders, fingers tangling with his above his head to steady yourself. You slam into him, dropping harder than intended (okay, you really want this.) A bit rough, but you know Dynamite can take it. Slightly overwhelmed at your enthusiasm, he groans into you before his wet tongue laps at your folds. Sucking and biting at your clit as you ride his face. His hand follows over yours as you move to grip his blonde hair. 

You’re almost there.

KNOCK KNOCK.

“Hey, [y/n] are you okay in there?” Mina’s distinct voice sounds through your door, “we’re worried about you.”

“Yeah, I’m.. uhm. I’m good.” you yell back, trying (and slightly failing)  to control your breath.

Glancing down, Bakugo’s eyes light up. Without warning, he shoves his tongue into you. Your world spins.

“Fuckkk” you moan under your breath, gripping his hair harder. He’s enjoying this.

Of course the other hero students would immediately jump back into helping people, but now? There’s no way you’re answering the door right now.

Shoto inquires next,  “are you sure, we read more and-”

“Yeah, I’m- I’m fine!” you manage to get out before throwing your face down and exhaling hard into a pillow. You feel your pussy throb as you cream on his tongue. He’s still not slowing down, determined to make you break. His hands now squeezing hard around your thighs, pressing you into him.

“I think someone’s in there,” Mina giggles. 

“We should probably give them space, it’s the manly thing to do right?” Kirishima adds.

“Wait, I wanna know who it is!” Sero’s voice chimes in. 

How many people are out there??

“In that case,” Momo adds, “[y/n], I made these for you. I’ll leave them out here, okay? Hope you’re being safe!” Something slides under your door but you can’t make out what it is.

You continue to hold your breath, clenching around his relentless tongue.

Finally, their voices trail off down the hallway. Bakugo (you should probably call him Katsuki after that) lessens his grip allowing you to roll onto your bed. Pulling your face away from the drool and bite mark covered pillow, you start to catch your breath. He presses himself up, rubbing his messier than usual hair and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. After a quick kiss on your forehead, his heavy footsteps make their way to your door and back before throwing a few condoms on your bedside table.

Useful. Thanks Creati.

He decides it’s his turn to be on top. With your legs wrapped around his hips, he slowly presses forward. His tip slides into your wetness and you feel yourself stretch around him. Bringing his lips to yours, he kisses you like earlier - soft, passionate. He’s being so sweet you wonder how this is the same person who was just tongue fucking you, trying to get you to scream while all of your friends listened. The same person who grumbled and rushed past you this morning without a hello.

“Ready now?” he grins at you.

Considering his glacial pace, you weren’t really sure when it happened: he bottoms out in you before pausing. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, scratching them through his soft hair. Thoughts of who he was earlier blur away, taking in the feeling of him in you now. He slowly resumes movement. 

His tongue inside you felt amazing earlier, but his dick is even better. Hitting every sensitive spot you didn’t even know you had. He sucks your bottom lip into his, gently nipping as he picks up the pace. You’re panting hard, kisses becoming sloppier. He thrusts into you, harder and deeper.

“Fuck Katsuki,” you moan, “gonna cum.” 

“Do it. Cum on my dick,” he growls back, slamming harder into you.

Your throbbing cunt pulses around him while you scream in his ear (you'd feel bad but it's not like he can hear that well anyways.) Hands dragging down his back, pulling him in closer to you.

A jolt of pain amplifies your pleasure as his teeth connect with your throat. Biting down while he whimpers into your neck. You feel him pump into you, exploding white into you while you ride out the waves of your own orgasm.

As you both come down, you run your hands over his scared face. Wanting to cling to any moment of softness you can get from him. He closes his eyes, melting into your touch. 

“Thanks for your help,” you whisper in his ear.

“Help? Oh. Yeah,” his gravelly voice is soft against your cheek, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, you don’t have to thank me.” He pulls out, leaving you feeling empty again.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, tying a knot in the condom before tossing it.

You stand up. No dizziness yet. You test your quirk. Almost back to normal.

He picks up another condom from the table, giving himself a few strokes before putting it on.

“Again?” you ask.

“You’re not through the quirk yet, are you?” His red eyes pierce through you and you know there’s no use trying to hide anything from him.

“Almost.”

“I can do better than almost,” he smiles and find yourself pressed into the wall again. His calloused hands running over you in contrast to his smooth lips leaving a trail of small pecks over your neck. 

In one fluid motion, he grips the back of your legs, pulling you up while sliding you back onto his dick - this time faster with more ease. You gasp, clutching his shoulders while he roughly thrusts into you. 

“ya feel so good on my cock, you’re doing so fucking good,” he chokes out between heavy breaths, "you look so fucking pretty taking me like that."

The pressure in your gut rises every time he pounds into you before spilling out, sending pulses of satisfaction through your whole body. You shove your head into his shoulder, crying his name while he fucks you harder. Toes curling as your heels dig into his back.

Before you can catch your breath, he throws you back on your bed.

Strong hands pull you onto your knees, your back arched, and face finding your pillow again. Grabbing your ass to bring you closer, he penetrates you again. His fast pace resuming, making you whimper into your pillow.

His hands find yours, bringing his elbows to either side of your shoulders. Groaning in your ear “ya sound so fucking pretty, louder for me,” as he plows into you. You scream, feeling yourself pulse around him as your pleasure cascades through you.

“Ka-katsuki” you whine, the sound of his name in your voice sending him over the edge.

With another hard thrust, he stutters his hips into you, exhaling hard. For the third time today, you feel him flex in you, filling the condom. You stop biting your pillowcase to look at him. His bright eyes staring back at you through heavy lids.

He thinks you look so fucked out and pretty on your tear-stained pillow.

“You did so good,” he breathes, “you feel better now?”

“Definitely”

Definitely better but 

So.

Fucking.

Exhausted. 

A sliver of light slices through your room. Your hands move across the bed but it’s empty.  Yesterday feels like a hazy dream. The ache between your legs reminds you it was definitely real. Your neck and hips are sore too, must have fallen asleep at a weird angle. Blinking your eyes open wearily, there’s a note on the pillow next to you. 

You know you should clean up more, go to the bathroom down the hallway but you’re so tired you can’t manage to do more than melt into your sheets. The last thing you remember before drifting off to sleep is Katsuki helping you get dressed for bed and wrapping himself around you.

Had to leave early this morning for extra training but let me buy you coffee. Text me when you wake-up and we can meet at that place on the edge of campus.

Katsuki xxx-xxx-xxxx

You check your phone. 

[you have 57 new messages and 14 missed calls] 

The latest few, from Mina, asking who’s in your room. Quickly, you swipe them away. That’s a long story and you’re not sure how you’ll tell it. You can deal with it later. You text Katsuki. 

You [heading out now, meet at the coffee shop?]

Katsuki [see you soon]

Getting ready in a rush, you quickly throw some pants on before brushing your teeth, pulling your hair out of your face, and heading down the stairs.

Walk normal you remind yourself on the way into the common room, trying to look like Katsuki hadn’t spent half of yesterday pounding his massive dick into you. The rest of the class doesn’t know that yet and considering that it’s new, you aren’t really sure if he wants them to know. That probably wouldn’t be the best way for them to find out, anyways. 

Ochoco’s voice beams behind you “Hey [y/n], you’re alive! We were so worried about you!” 

“Hey Ochoco! Yeah, I’m okay!” you yell back.

Hearing you’re awake, Mina runs from the couch to hug you. “Hey!!!” Her eyes widen. “You had a good night!” she says before giggling “I’ll text you!”

Mineta scoffs at the sight of you before getting far out of your way. Good.

Tsuyu, Iida, and Jiro all stare from the couch, they wave back politely but avoid eye contact. 

Denki high-fives you. 

Sero also high-fives you before running to the couch and handing Jiro money. Is this about beating up Mineta? They can’t possibly know about anything else.

Deku looks mortified. “Uhm.” He grabs at the collar of his shirt.

Is there something on your sweatshirt? Using the window by the exit as a mirror, you check.

Oh, shit. There’s more than something on your sweatshirt. 

Tiredly, you assumed the hoodie you woke up in was yours; this one has a big white skull on the front. Peaking out above that, a massive bite mark covers half your neck. You pull the hood up but it still doesn’t cover it.

You [just looked in the mirror]

You [why didn’t you warn me???]

Katsuki [now everyone knows ur mine 🧡]

[you have 8 new messages]

[ilisteria]

I am sorry for what I'm inflicting upon the world

Behold, the Crayon Eaters Primarch, a totally (not) serious lost Primarch OC

Legion Motto proposals:

"Every Colour Imaginable, Every Planet Imaginable, Everything Imaginable - All Under His Light" or "THOU SHALT TASTE THE RAINBOW"

He came from a civilised world known for synthetic dyes and lacquer, but past that literally nothing was notable about his childhood. He grew up in a nice lower middle class family and just really liked crayons and once was stranded in a forest while on a camping trip so he ate his pack of crayons to survive. Turns out they taste good(to him). He found out about the name Crayola from a box of decrepit crayons he discovered in a time capsule, and he thinks crayola was the old word for colours in some lost language.

The paint splatter on the white chestpiece, knee joint, left palduron, and cloth strips were from a legion tradition of visiting orphaned children after a campaign and letting them paint on plain white armour. The armour pieces would then get clear lacquer poured over them for use to mix and match with ceremonial garb.

Tipirius was executed and his world exterminatus'd after the world's government declared Dandelion Yellow - which was was Big E's second favourite flavour of crayon - discontinued because of a shortage of the chemicals needed to produce it.

-

I don't know what else to write, he's literally a shitpost character and completely normal and well adjusted like 30k Guilliman.

I'd imagine he would be considered a defective Primarch, maybe the contemplative II legion Primarch who was far too human to agree to commit mindless slaughter in the name of the Emperor's distant dream.

[lala-blahblah]

I absolutely cannot sit down and write a nice version of this bc my brain says no, but i would like to let you all know I'm thinking of a fanfic where older Edgeworth is moving back to the US (or japan, whichever universe you subscribe to) and runs into Nick in the store while buying mass produced art to hang on the walls of his new house.

And Nick is like "dear god do you want your house to look like a dentist's office. Please do better" (in a friendly way, they are too old for rivalry at this point) and so Nick invites Edgeworth to come over and take any of his old artwork from college, since it is just sitting in a portfolio in a closet somewhere. And Edgeworth agrees to come over and look through Nick's old stuff together. There are themes of 1) growing older and like reflecting on the past and 2) Nick's character trait of finding meaning in challenges vs Edgeworth's tendency to stick with what he does well. In my head I imagine that Nick was good at art and it came somewhat easily to him and that bored him, and he was drawn to law in part because it was hard and it excited him and made him want to try harder. And i think tying that in with fatherhood, like it being unexpected and hard but something he thrives at because he feels good when there's a challenge. Potentially also touching on how like, when he lost his badge he felt very listless and depressed because he wasn't being challenged anymore, there wasn't anything to drive him and motivate him. And I think Edgeworth would be impressed by seeing Nick's old pieces (I assume he hasn't seen much of his art before) and wondering why he didn't choose to pursue art further. He also thinks about how art had always put him off personally because he couldn't get it "right" right away, and on the other hand how the structure and logic of law came easily to him, which led him to become a lawyer. I think he measures his self worth by his success in his field because he never had the support to believe he had intrinsic value as a person and maybe wasn't so good at making emotional connections with people. So that big contrast between them is so interesting... I think Edgeworth would be jealous of Nick's bravery in pursuing something he was bad at without giving up and Nick would be jealous of Edgeworth's success in law, but in a subdued way as they've grown older.

A far as actual scenes in the fic, I think I would use Nick's art as a conduit for my own agenda to have them talk about topics that are of interest to me... I would like Edgeworth to feel out of his depth for once and for nick to be the confident one as he talks about something he is well versed in, and for edgeworth to have to face that discomfort and also be a little impressed intellectually with Nick. I think I would do that by having them look through some abstract art Nick did (my intro painting classes were all abstract so we could focus on color mixing and getting comfortable with the medium). Edgeworth compliments Nick on a painting with a bunch of colored squares in gradient clusters and then gets embarrassed when Nick tells him those were just color mixing swatches. Alternatively, in my mind they are both asexual and I think even though this feels like a hallmark cliche I would have Edgeworth flounder and be very embarrassed over Nick's old figure drawing piece. I feel like Nick would be like "no you don't understand it's all very professional and normal when we draw them, like it's just about learning the shape language" and Edgeworth would be like "this is very improper and I don't know how to react can we please not look at naked people!". I don't think i would do both, but something to upset the power dynamic for a moment would be interesting! Nick is always the awkward one I want to see him shine for just a moment enough for edgeworth to go "wait what... i've known him for so long but perhaps i don't really know him at all..."

I would want Edgeworth to end up taking a series of 3 canvases Nick did in an oil painting class that were still lifes of objects the teacher had set up around the classroom. I headcanon that Nick actually far preferred drawing people to objects and rebelled against the assignment by hiding his reflection in one of the objects in each drawing- the top of his head is hidden in an ornament on a christmas tree, his eye is reflected in the shine of a china vase, etc. So it's a little secret, and Edgeworth kind of likes that... it is sweet in a way to see a much younger Phoenix captured in time like that. Something Edgeworth will be reminded of when he sees the paintings but nobody else will catch onto

I would want to layer this with a fatherhood storyline... I think i would frame it as nick inviting edgeworth over to dinner with him and Trucy and Edgeworth stepping into this domestic family life as a visitor and witnessing how its transformed Nick, like seeing him from a different lens. I think after they pick out paintings and have dinner they sit around talking. Trucy had been sitting with them, earlier she showed off some magic tricks and gave Edgeworth a picture of hers from the fridge to add to his new art collection (it's a rainbow dolphin and a sea turtle wearing top hats. Nick says she's in her Lisa Frank era). But she's been quiet for awhile and Nick realizes she's fallen asleep and it's like 11. He's like, crap, i screwed up i should've paid attention and gotten her put to bed, I'm a bad father and I have an audience for this failure. And on top of that, I already failed at being a lawyer, no matter what I try I always disappoint everyone. It's an unexpected moment of vulnerability there... like he's seemed so put together and grown up to Edgeworth this whole time like a whole different person, but he's not a different person he just has different sides to him. And this moment is one where edgeworth can be like hey, no, you're a great dad, and I'm impressed by you and everything you achieved. And I think that could lead into vulnerability from Edgeworth about his relationship with his dad and how he misses him/how he feels like he hasn't really been loved by anyone since his dad died, and how Trucy is lucky to have someone like Nick in her life.

Nick excuses himself to carry Trucy to bed and Miles starts cleaning up the kitchen. I would give a moments pause here to talk about the strange intimacy of going through someone else's kitchen cabinets and drawers, you feel like a stranger there trying to put yourself into someone else's shoes to understand how they live in this space. Maybe he guesses the right drawer for the silverware first try and he feels a little spark of connection. like "we are different in many ways but we are alike enough that we look in the same place for our spoons". Details on the kitchen too about the kid safe plastic bowls and knives that indicate a child is part of the household, that the household has been built around the child, in fact. Edgeworth lives alone and I imagine things are kind of fancy for him (he's a man who wears a cravat so he probably has fine china right). It's completely different from this shabby mismatched cutlery that Nick has, but this kitchen has personality. Maybe he wouldn't mind having a kitchen like this so much. This is a hint at him being lonely, being included in this family unit just for a day has given him this curious sense of longing, for what he isn't sure... does he want kids? Does he want Nick? Does he just want to be part of a family? These are confusing questions and he would much rather not feel anything at all, but unfortunately it is late and he did have a glass of wine with dinner so emotions are Happening.

He hears Nick sigh tiredly as he comes into the kitchen, and Edgeworth starts to ask him where his tupperware is when suddenly Nick is wrapping his arms around him and Edgeworth is Very Tense because he's never good at knowing how to act in situations like this and he and Nick have never been on a hugging level before and he's not sure what this is even for. Then Nick is like "I keep thinking about what you said earlier, about feeling alone ever since your dad passed away. I didn't know, that's such a long time to feel alone. I don't want you to think you're on your own". Edgeworth relaxes a little bit because now he knows what the hug is for and what he's supposed to feel from it. Its very kind of Nick to worry but its unnecessary and he says so. He has colleagues he's friendly with and people from law school he keeps in touch with, he's alright. And Nick says he knows but he also knows it's difficult living the way they do, and what he means is single and in your thirties. Because everyone else is getting married or living with a long term partner or at the very least dating and their lives are focused on that relationship as the center of their being. And when you don't have that, not only is it harder to relate to the people around you but it is harder to feel like you matter in people's lives, because they all prioritize their partner before their friends. And maybe their situations aren't exactly the same (Nick has a daughter while Edgeworth lives alone) and maybe their choices were made for different reasons (Nick used to date and didn't mind it but didn't see a need to prioritize it. Edgeworth found himself unable to distinguish with certainty whether or not he was actually romantically interested in people, and rather than make the wrong choice he decided he would rule out error by choosing no one at all). But regardless, they both know first hand the isolation that comes with trying to carve a path for themselves that does not include a life partner in a world where everyone else comes in pairs. And Nick is reaching out across that emptiness saying hey, we might both be building different lives, but there's room for you to be a part of mine if you want.

Outloud, Nick says "Really, Miles. You aren't alone in this." and Edgeworth says "Well, Phoenix, neither are you". And he stands there and lets his friend hug him, and it doesn't feel like butterflies but it does feel solid and warm and good. And he doesn't even worry about whether he's supposed to let go by now or not, because it's nice, not being alone.

They stand there in comfortable silence for a long moment before Nick speaks again. "hey, remember when you used to hate me? And look at us now." Edgeworth turns his head sharply. "I never HATED you, Wright. I simply thought you were foolish and a waste of my time." He realizes a little too late that this is probably a rude thing to say to the person that just gave you a pep talk, but Nick just laughs, his head still resting on Edgeworth's shoulder. Looking at him from this angle, face almost fully hidden, Nick could be any age at all. It's easy to imagine for a moment that he's the same nervous version of himself that stood across from him in the courtroom for the first time all those years ago. The only thing breaking the illusion is the subtle streaks of silver that cross his temples. Not entirely sure why he does it, Edgeworth kisses the top of Nick's head. He feels odd about it the moment he does so, realizing it comes across not as a platonic or romantic action but as a gesture suited for a dog or pet of some kind. Nick looks up, looking confused but not displeased. "What was that for?" "It was a thank you I suppose". Miles steps away now, still uncomfortable with perceived failures even if those failures are just in social interactions, and begins to gather his things while Nick gets down a tupperware from a cabinet. "Thank you, for the dinner and for the paintings." Edgeworth continues. "I'd like to repay the favor once I get settled into the new house. Trucy's invited too, of course". As he says it, he realizes he genuinely is looking forward to seeing them again. Nick walks him to the apartment door and they say their goodbyes while Edgeworth tucks the paintings (and Trucy's dolphin drawing) under his arm.

He gets halfway down the hallway when he hears Nick calling after him. "Hey! Miles! Take an art class with me sometime" Newfound friendship or not, Edgeworth just looks at him in disdain. "what, so you can show off your superior art skills? No thank you, Wright" "No, for fun. You can make things of your own to hang on your walls. We can do something I've never done before so we're evenly matched. Like printmaking? Origami? Um, pottery?" Edgeworth bristles at the suggestions but takes a moment to acknowledge why he's feeling that way; again, it's that fear of failure. But he's enjoyed himself today and deep down he thinks it could be fun to try something new, not with the goal of being perfect at it but with the goal of spending time together. Nick surprised him today. Maybe he can surprise himself. "... I would consider pottery" Edgeworth admits. And Nick looks really happy about it. "Great. I'll book us a session then. It'll be fun, you'll see. Edgeworth shakes his head, but there's no malice behind it. "Have a good night, Phoenix" "You too. Get home safe Miles".

Edgeworth gets home a little before midnight and props the three canvases against the moving boxes still stacked up in the foyer. Tomorrow, he'll figure out where he wants to hang them. Right now though, he walks over to the bare fridge and carefully pins up Tracy's dolphin drawing. There's a lot more work to do, but it's already starting to feel like home.

[lichenes]

Nasty Dog

This one is for @kennedyabraxas123 :D They requested: "idk if u did this maybe like a cute little human doing cute things w a big scary monster and they know that they could kill tjem super easily but they still love them and everything despite the strength/size difference" and ofc I couldn't refuse<3 Nothing like good ol' size difference istg. The monster of choice is a werewolf. If we're going classic, we're going classic. I love running errands with people so I decided this would be a great prompt lol?? IDK I can re-write this if you want kennedy cuz this ain't my best work :3! HOPEFULLY there aren't that many incosistencies dude cuz-

CW: SIZE DIFFERENCE!!!, established relationship, vulnerabilty???, (petnames: little one, lovely), brief mentions of werewolf sex, other than that SFW

wc: 763

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Walking hand in hand with him you couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky you were. Your eyes drifted to him as he scratched his chin. The beautiful fur he was sporting was radiating a pleasant, warm smell and the sun was hitting his form just right to make you fall in love all over again. For a moment you forgot where you were going.

The shop was a short distance away from your house and given the nice weather you decided to take the walk. The streets were bustling with people despite the sun almost setting. The produce you had to buy were too heavy for you to carry all by yourself so you decided to employ your boyfriend, who in addition to being freakishly strong also valued quality time spent together. 

He was usually a quiet person, never showing any strong emotions aside from occasional anger when something wasn’t going his way. Today wasn’t any different. His stoic face had his usual expression on, impassive and even, uninterested. You were talking to him as he nodded along humming occasionally to show his engagement. 

Despite his demeanour, he was enjoying his time with you. You were picking through the apples you planned to take home with you, looking for the perfect ones. You didn’t realise how menacing he looked, looming over your much shorter form. You, of course, understood people being scared of your boyfriend. He was almost 8’2” which made anyone pocket-sized to him. 

You walked along the dairy aisle while he was pushing the shopping cart along. “We should get the regular milk this time.” You said putting the carton into the cart. “You always drink oat though?” He spoke up, questioning you. “You need your protein to maintain your muscles, you know.” He nodded, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I’m not losing them any time soon, little one.” You walked to the next aisle. He continued. “After all, who will help you with your groceries if I become thin and frail?” He put his hand on the small of his back and leaned forward to simulate the hypothetical situation. You rolled your eyes playfully. Something ignited within you. A joke? From him? That was… unusual

You continued your shopping trip with a sweet treat for both of you that he paid for in the end. For a beast that had to chain himself up during the full moon he was a gentleman. 

Once during a full moon he broke out of the chains and scared the ever-loving shit out of you when he burst into your shared bedroom in his fully transformed form with a foaming snout and eyes so predatory you felt like a bunny being chased through the woods, only at his mercy. He didn’t have bloodlust on his mind this time though and after a moment of standing in the threshold he lunged towards you and ravaged you that night like a man starved. 

The next day he, of course, apologised for his behaviour and massaged all the areas that were sore. You mentioned once or twice that you’d love for him to break the chain once more but he categorically denied you access to him when the full moon was in the sky. He was so, so scared of breaking you because he knew how delicate human bodies were, not used to knots and all the other parts of being with a werewolf. 

Your mind came back from reminiscing and focused on the type of flour you had to purchase for your baking endeavours. “Why are you so distracted lovely?” He lowered his face to your ear as he didn’t want anyone to hear you. He knew exactly what had you so preoccupied. Your face got hotter for a moment but you regained your composure. “Cookies are best made with coarse-grained flour right?” You smiled innocently. 

The cashier looked horrified with the amount of items on the conveyor belt. You send them an apologetic look and began bagging your items. Just before you finished your boyfriend pulled out his card and pressed it onto the reader. You insisted on paying him back for at least half of your shared groceries but he refused to listen to you.

“Not only are you stubborn but also extremely helpful.” You said with faux exasperation as he took all of the bags into his hands. “Oh no! Whatever will I do now that you’ve upset me so badly?” You beamed. He warmed up to you enough to make jokes, a rarity for him.

“I might have a few ideas…”

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masterlist

[mangohobbit]

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Authors Note: Hello to anyone this reaches (this feels like a message in a bottle) For over a year now I've writing both a storyline and drabbles of my Call of Duty OC with the 141 boys. I just love her so much, and I've been having a blast writing her and the boys. This is me finally getting the courage to post her story. Maybe my style of writing isn't for everyone, and I'm not a great writer or anything, but it's my story and character that I've grown very attached to. I did try my best to research how the military works from different parts of the world. Not gonna lie when I say it can get very overwhelming with the information. But I'm here for the fun times so inaccuracies will happen but I don't think they detract from the story or the characters as a whole. So I hope you enjoy :)

Story Note: When I tell you this is a slow burn...this is a SSSLLOOWWW BBUUURRRNN. The first story is simply for you to get to know Daniela (my OC) and learn how she got recruited to the 141. I want you guys to care for her story and struggles throughout her journey with the 141. Her relationship with each of the boys is purely platonic and each dynamic with them is different. The romance will come later I PROMISE!

*please be nice with me! I tried editing as much as possible! (Being bilingual makes me dumb sometimes)

Tigger warning? Well there is a kidnapping and your regular warfare violence but not in this chapter.

Word Count : 2938

Harpia and the 141 part 1: The Boys and the Bird

Chapter 1: The Harpy and her cake

BANG! BANG! BANG! 

The fireworks went off as the last of the set of military groups passed the line as their anthem faded into another marching band song. Streamers filled the sky along with stray balloons floated all around from children's slippery fingers. As a special anniversary of some hundred year old treaty to allied forces from long forgotten war, the militaries from all around the world were invited to show off in the hosting country. This time it was in Paris, France. The streets were littered with thousands of parade watchers and hundreds of military personnel showing off their fancy parade outfits. Shiny black boots stepped on fallen streamers and confetti as some sixty different countrymen and women advertised themselves to the civilians who decided to come out and enjoy the merriment.

“Come on Ghost, get into the spirit of it,” Soap waved a small Scottish flag in front of his friend's face. 

“I hate these things,” Ghost gruffed.

“It’s a beautiful spring day in Paris. How can you hate it?” Gaz nudged on his comrades crossed arms. 

“Because it’s annoying and loud,” Simon huffed. 

“You just have to get into the spirit,” Soap fiddled his flag at Simon’s face. 

“Soap, if you value that shit little flag then get it away or I snap it in half. Make a choice,” Ghost threatened. 

Soap glared at his party pooping lieutenant, who always had a hard time in crowds. 

“Haven’t been to one of these in awhile,” Gaz waved the U.K flag. “Have either you ever participated in one of these?” he asked. 

“Once,” Soap and Ghost responded at the same time, though in different tones. Soap in a happy way and Ghost in an annoyed way. 

“I’m gonna take a guess and say you hated it Simon?” Gaz chuckled.

“Got a free meal afterwards for it so whatever,” Simon huffed.

“I got to wear a fancy kilt and sash,” Johnny remembered the event fondly. 

“Come on boys!” Captain Price called out for his boys from behind. “Let's get something to eat that, for once, we don’t have to pay for.”

The rest of the 141 followed behind the captain. Winding through the crowd they were curious as to why Price had brought them to the parade in the first place. This morning they were in their regular base across the English canal and by the afternoon they were surrounded by people while the music of marching bands pounded into their ears. 

Soap moved up to Price’s side. “So are you goin’ to tell us why we’re here. Captain?”

“Not yet MacTavish. Let’s get some grub first then I'll get you in on it,” Price replied. 

“You don’t know either do you?” Ghost spoke up. 

“Something like that,” Price confessed. 

When the group went around the corner of the street, a familiar face looked up to them. “Boys?” It was Laswell standing in front of the entrance to a giant white tent where parade performers were walking into. 

“Kate,” Gaz was the first to come up to his mentor with a handshake and a smile. 

“Good to see you again boys,” she grinned back at them. “Come on in and grab a bite while I talk with your captain,” she gestured for them to follow her. Before walking into the tent through a separate line, Kate flashed a laminated badge to the two security guards standing watch. They nodded to the agent for her to go with the 141. 

Soap, Gaz, and Soap did as they were told by Kate. They were pretty hungry from all the walking and endless standing in the heat of the day. The three filled their plates to the brim with all kinds of good stuff while Price went to talk to Laswell on the side. 

“So why did you need me here on such short notice?” the captain of the 141 asked. 

Without saying another word Kate handed John a manila folder which only meant one thing. Although, with Kate that’s what most of their meets up and conversations were about; assignments and favors. Which would it be this time? 

“Who is in need of saving this time Kate?” Price grinned sarcastically. As he opened the folder the first thing he noticed was the family photo as it was on top of the pile. Just a family of three; a father, mother, and daughter (a young woman) lined up together in front of some historic looking building. All three were smiling happily for the shot. 

“She’s been taken,” Laswell said, then sipped on some champagne. 

“And her importance? Price asked. 

“The man is Juan Carlos Morena. He’s an environmentalist recently elected as mayor to a town in the south of Colombia. He's become infamous in the conservation sphere. And with him being elected as a mayor only made him more famous. It’s given other activists hope that people want change to happen in the region.”

“But?” Price looked to Laswell finding the “but” in this topic. 

“Climate activists in Colombia have always been targeted by a number of greedy people. They are the disruptors to their illegal operations so it’s common for activists like this guy to be killed. Only this time instead of just killing him off his daughter has been taken by a confirmed cartel group operating in the area.”

“How is it confirmed?” Price asked. 

“To make a statement they kidnapped her in daylight in front of people. It was filmed,” Kate took out her phone from her pocket and played the video on silent. It was a shaky shot but it was definitely a video of a young woman being shoved into a car while fighting for her life.

“How do you know it’s not some staged act? Daddy’s girl wanted to get away from parents?”

“I asked the same question but she’s also just as giving to the community as her parents are. She’s a lawyer and leader of her own organization of helping women leave their abusive households. She’s active in the community so trust me when I say she doesn’t seem like a spoiled, rich girl that got into the wrong crowd.”

“Christ,” Price flipped through the pages. “You said a confirmed cartel as well? How do we know that?”

“The symbol on the jeep is the symbol used by this particular organization. They’ve been within our radar for some time so it was recognizable. Not much has been done on our part to suppress them but this could finally be our chance.”

“So moving drugs and inciting violence is one thing but you finally draw the line at kidnapping a major figure of the community?” Price looked at Kate in suspicion. 

“There have been plenty of stories that have come to me about these guys, Price,” she got defensive. “But stories weren't enough. Now we have footage and a kidnapping. It's a chance to finally put these guys down once and for all. And you and your boys are the best in the business for this kind of job. So what do you say?”

Price kept glaring at his old friend. Although she tried to hide it, Kate had a look of desperation and concern. Price gave in with a heavy sigh. “What are our villains' names?”

“They call themselves “The Jungle” or in Spanish it would be “La Jungla”,” Kate revealed in a rough accent. “They used to be a small sect connected to the Medellin cartel but have operated for the past twenty years as their own separate organization. These are dangerous people John. And the civilians of this region could use one less threat to their lives,” Laswell put the now empty glass onto a passing tray. Price stayed silent for a moment looking over the rest of the files. “You don’t have to accept this but the squad that’s being formed by their own military could use some people like you and your boys.”

The captain looked at the family photo one last time. Those smiles cut deep into the soldiers heart in thinking how scared they all must be. Her family weren’t the only one’s in pain. This was a whole community of people trying to make their lives better and it only keeps being interrupted by vile people like this cartel. 

“Well, alright then,” John closed the folder and handed it back to his friend. 

“Your support will be very appreciated, John,” Laswell grinned. 

“How did you even hear about this mess?”

“Through the grapevine kind of situation. A friend, of a friend, of a friend contacted me.”

“Looks like you’re the most popular kid in the schoolyard Kate,” John chuckled with Kate following along with him as she found the comment humorous as well. 

“There is one slight problem John.”

“And that is?”

“You and your boys have no experience in this region or a landscape like this and only you and Gaz know Spanish that’s passable at best. This is a region where English speakers are rare and communication will be a key,” Kate explained. “There could also be encounters with non Spanish speakers as well.”

“So what are you saying?” John crossed his arms.

“Your team is being loaned a new recruit. But don’t worry they have plenty of experience for this kind of stuff,” Laswell looked to her left and gestured for a man some feet away from them to come join her and Price. The man came up and greeted Price with a firm handshake. He was dressed in a formal military uniform with the flag of Peru patch on his left arm. “John, this is Colonel Alvarez of the Peruvian Air Force.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Price,” the man nodded.

“Pleasure is all mine, Colonel. It’s not you who will be joining me for the mission will it?” John didn’t want to be rude but the man had some years on him to be doing a mission like the one he just accepted. 

“No, no captain, I have recommended someone to Laswell for you to take on the mission. She is a very valuable asset to the air force and will be very helpful in this situation.”

“What does the Peruvian military have to do with the affairs of the remote region of Colombia?” John asked. 

“That we share many common enemies and most notably…we share the Amazon,” the colonel noted. “It is not uncommon for military troops from different nations that share a border to assist one another on missions like this.”

“I’m going to take a guess and say you’re the friend of a friend Laswell was implying about?”

“Indeed,” the colonel nodded. “This is who will be joining your team captain,” the Peruvian man handed Price another manila folder with the name “Harpia” in the front. 

John skimmed over the impressive resume of the recruit. Kate was right about her experience even though she had only been in the military for the past five years. “She’s quite the academic,” John noticed the bachelor's degree in her education side of the file along with a number of certifications. Then there was a list under the languages section that left him surprised. “What are all these?”

“Your recruit is an expert in indigenous languages, captain,” the colonel explained. “Where you are going, not everyone speaks Spanish. Not many military personnel have her knowledge and even fewer civilians have her experience and clearance for this kind of mission.”

“Alright, so we meet her over there?” John accepted the outcome. 

“Not necessarily John, she was in the parade and is right here,” Kate said. 

“She would be right over…” the colonel scanned the area of the dining tent. “There she is,” the colonel pointed to a young woman holding a small plate with a half eaten slice of cake.  

“Does she know about all this?” Price asked. 

“Indeed she does,” the colonel nodded. “You can go and meet her now if you like.”

“Then if you’ll excuse me,” Price nodded to the two higher ranking agents as he went off to the side and meet his new temp. 

Not one for sneaking, John came up to the young woman directly. She was dressed in a dark green coat and knee length skirt in the same color and some low square heels. She had a fancy sash across her chest and a spiffy looking hat that lay on top of her neatly slicked back hair that was tied on a braided low bun. She was fully decked out as much as the other parade performers. 

The young woman saw the captain make his way towards her and she put down her plate immediately. There was a cheery grin on her face once John was finally in front of her; towering over her frame. “Captain Price?” the decorated woman asked. 

“That would be me,” John smiled at her. The most notable thing about the lady was her small stature. She seemed to be even shorter than Farah. Her cheekbones were high and sharp but also maintained a very round face. There was something very unique about her face but then he remembered the list of languages she knew. 

“It’s an honor to meet you Captain,” she shook Price's hand enthusiastically. “I am Lieutenant Daniela Huari of the Peruvian Air Force.”

“Aka Harpia,” John added. “What’s that stand for?”

“The harpy, like in Greek mythology but in this case it’s after the harpy eagle of South America,” Daniela explained. 

“Can’t wait to find out how you got that one,” John chuckled. “So you’re the one who’s joining me and my boys?”

“It would seem so,” Daniela nodded.

“You know what you’re walking into, right?” John had his concern dad tone switched on.

“I do,” the lieutenant nodded a yes to the captain. 

“Good,” John smiled at her eagerness. “I mean clearly you more than qualified for this,” he held up her file. “Very impressive stuff in here.”

“Thank you Captain Price,” Daniela grinned at the praise. 

“Alright lieutenant, you meet us on the base at 18:00 hours. There isn’t any more time to waste here.”

“Si, capitan,” Daniela saluted the higher ranking officer.

“Meet ya there Harpia,” John grinned once more to the young woman and made his way back to his boys who were stuffing themselves with all sorts of stuff on their plates. “Come on lads we have some packing and explaining to do,” Price waved for the other three men to follow him out of the tent. 

“Who were you talking to Cap’?” Soap asked while taking one last bit out of his dessert. 

“Who was that with Laswell?” Gaz then questioned as well.

“And who was the shrimp you talked to next?” Ghost added to the list of questions to his captain. 

“Let’s talk about this at the base boys. There’s a lot to unpack here,” Price led his task force back to the base on the outskirts of the city. 

Task Force 141 made their way to their assigned aircraft that would be crossing them over the Atlantic all the way to a base in Venezuela. Price was right about unpacking a great deal of information to the other three men. The mayor, the mayor's daughter, her kidnapping, the cartel, there was much for the boys to intake. 

“A rescue mission and taking down a cartel. This’ll be fun,” Soap laid a friendly soft punch on Ghost’s shoulder. 

“Just dandy, Soap,” Simon gruffed. 

With heavy bags on their shoulders they finally found the lot for their transport. The loading dock door was fully open, ready for them to load in. But as they turned to go up the ramp all three men stopped dead in their tracks at someone already strapping in their own bags. 

“Who the hell are you?” Ghost partially yelled at the woman. 

Daniela bounced in her turn to the 141 crew members as she didn’t hear them come from behind her. “Oh you’re here, great,” she walked up to the men who towered over her. 

“Lieutenant Riley, Sergeant Garrick, Sergeant MacTavish, it’s a pleasure to meet you boys. I’ll be working with you on this mission,” she extended her hand for one of them to shake but all three of them just looked at her confusingly. 

“Boys! Be nice,” Price came from behind them. “This is lieutenant Daniela Huari. She is joining us as a pilot, guide, translator and interpreter, and survival expert,” Price came up to Daniela and gave her upper back a quick pat. “She’s on loan to us from the Peruvian Air Force so play nice with her. I want a good report about us from her when all this is over.”

“Survival expert?” Soap asked.

“The biggest disadvantage we have is that neither of us have ever been to this type of region. We’ve been to the country before but the place isn’t the streets of Bogota. This is the Amazon, a hostile environment we’ve never been to. Even though we’ll be assisting a military squadron from Colombia, I was informed that she will be needed.”

“For what?” Ghost asked.

“To make sure you don’t wipe your ass with a poisonous plant,” Daniela teased. 

Gaz and Soap couldn’t help but snicker at the comment. Even Price couldn’t hold in a soft scoff to his chest. “Alright soldiers, let’s get going. We have a whole ass ocean to cross.”

Johnny laughed quietly to Simon. “She’s a lieutenant and you called her a shrimp.”

“Shut up,” Ghost rumbled beneath his breath.

——The captain meeting Daniela Huari

[httpsdana]

Heeey! Could you do prompt 69 with Jamal Musiala (where he maybe accidentally confesses or something these are always cute)

BTW I LOVE LOVE YOUR WRITING SM HOW DO YOU ALWAYS GET ME INVESTED WHILE READING 😭

And thank you in advance ❤️

Oops?~Jamal Musiala

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

thank you for your sweet message, it means everything to me 💋💋

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

69-"did you just say you like me?"

It was supposed to be a casual hang out between 'friends', but the tension in the air almost said something different.

Jamal and y/n were watching a movie, a comedy one to be specific, however Jamal's concentration seemed to be on something else.

What broke his train of thoughts was y/n's laugh at something that was said in the movie. He looked up immediately, watching how her eyes crinkled while she laughed, the sound being so soothing to his ears, to the point where he blurted out some words without even noticing.

"you have a really cute laugh" Jamal said, before he noticed what he did, causing his eyes to widen.

y/n's laugh faltered, looking at him to study his expressions. His face was in a deep shade of red, eyes on the ground and fingers tangled in each other on his lap.

"what?" she asked, wondering if what she heard was true or not.

"i meant you...laugh in a nice way?" he said awkwardly, clearing his throat while looking away.

"where is that coming from right now?" she asked, watching him squirm under her intense gaze.

"what do you mean, I didn't say anything wrong?" he said, his eyes still avoiding hers as he tried focusing on the movie again

"you're being really weird" she pointed out, reaching for the remote control to pause their movie.

She shifted her body in a position so she was facing him, her eyes searching his face for something...anything.

"tell me what's wrong?" she asked him, making him look at her for a second, before he turned away quickly.

"nothing's wrong. I don't know why you think there's something wrong" he mumbled, looking down at his hands.

"obviously there's something on your mind but for some reason you're refusing to tell me" she raised her eyebrows, crossing her fingers over her chest.

"it's nothing" Jamal brushed it off, reaching down for the remote to continue their movie.

Before he could reach it, y/n took the remote and put it behind her back.

"tell. me. what's. going. on" she said sharply, her eyes watching him so intensely.

"oh my god. nothings wrong. I mean I just like kinda have a crush on this girl but she's so stupid and she can't seem to get it and understand that I like her. i mean if I tell you your laugh is cute why don't you understand that I like you. isn't it obvious, I don't go around telling people they have nice laughs or whatever" he rambled, not understanding his own words as he felt the pressure of her gaze on him.

"hold on...did you just say you like me?" she asked, her eyes slightly wide.

Just then Jamal noticed what he had said, his eyes also widening as he cleared his throat.

"um...I did?" he said nervously, looking down at the ground once again

"yes you did" she said, a small smile appearing on her face.

"oh wow. I really did" he murmured, more to himself.

The awkward silence took over them for a while, both of them waiting for the other to say something. y/n got tired of waiting so she spoke again

"so you're not gonna kiss me?" she said, making Jamal look up at her with wide eyes.

"you want me to kiss you?" he asked, his forehead crinkling as his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"well obviously yes. if I didn't like you back I wouldn't be here would i? no offense Jamal but only people who really like you would stay around you for this long" she said, a bit of frustration evident in her voice as she spoke.

Jamal sat still for a second, trying to take in the words she had said. he didn't know if he should be upset about her words or just glad that she likes him.

"you're such a dumbass" y/n mumbled, before grabbing his face and connecting their lips.

Jamal's eyes widened, before he closed them and kissed her back, one of his hands reaching to the back of her neck to pull her even closer. their kiss was tender, full of all the admiration they have hid long enough.

They pulled away, both of them breathless. Jamal leaned back on the couch, his mind still comprehending what had happened.

He smiled to himself, his cheeks flushed as he looked at y/n with a tiny smile. Just then he remembered what she said, about "no one wanting to be around him"

"hey what did you mean no one would want to be around me?" he asked curiously, making y/n look at him with a look that says 'are you serious'

"we just kissed for the first time and now you're asking what I meant by that?" she said, her hand reaching up to cover her face

"I mean yeah" he shrugged, making her groan.

"you're so stupid oh my god" she mumbled, shaking her head with a small smile.

"but you like me...right?" he said, a boyish grin finding it's way to his face.

"yes you're lucky I like you" she said, making him chuckle a bit

"yes I am" he mumbled, smiling to himself at how their friendship has shifted in just one movie night.

[ragnarokhound]

hey sweetie how are you. I made banana bread for breakfast tomorrow but DON’T touch it till then, it won’t be as good

there’s a post going around about the dynamic of a guard dog character, a lamb, and a wolf (one wants to possess and protect the lamb, one wants to devour it). How do you think jaytimkon fits in this?

ps… 10 things i hate about you? thoughts?

hey sweetie, i'm pretty good uwu had a nice day yesterday walking around my neighborhood with a friend! <3 And ough herrghh mrregghh gragghhhh (<- actively holding myself back from tearing into the banana bread immediately, i'll be strong for you bb but know that you are testing my limits in new and exciting ways)

Putting my responses to both (!! >:0) the jaytimkon and 10 Things ideas under a cut because *deep sigh* it got long lol

BRUH. BRUHHHHHHH. You cannot simply say this to me. You Cannot. Simply. SAY THIS TO ME, YOU'RE NOT SLICK

Once again testing my limits in new and exciting ways because I have a different WIP deadline fast approaching so I simply cannot write more for my actively inspired by guard dog x lamb x wolf jaytimkon WIP to SHOW YOU, in DETAIL, EXACTLY how i think jaytimkon fits into this, BUT

My feelings on this are many, and partially answered in these asks already. But I'll reiterate that they are all three facets simultaneously, baby. Depending on who's talking, they think of themselves as this, that, or the other; the loving, vigilant protector - the helpless, vulnerable bleeding heart - the hungry, slinking interloper. The story I have been brooding over for almost a year now (egads) WILL feature a somewhat slowburn where each of them takes turns realizing which one they are and slowly changing their minds as the narrative progresses and their relationship heats up 🔥w🔥BUT BE PATIENT BECAUSE I SURE HAVE TO BE (*whining and whimpering i crave this banana bread)

P.S. I love the taming of the shrew, and it's absolutely perfect jaytim material are you KIDDING. Cramming two different concepts into one ask. Evil. Diabolical. I love my wife.

10 Things I Hate About You is such a fun movie, and I could honestly see the role of Kate being played equally well by either Tim or Jason lol, and in a somewhat reverse robins style, Dick taking on the role of Bianca. Wally or Kori or [Your Choice Here] in the role of Cameron, wanting to date him. In fact, ohhhh OHHHH okay. Okay bear with me while i cook--

Consider Oldest Child Dick Grayson-Wayne who is super popular, super well loved, everyone wants to date him - but he always begs off because he doesn't want his younger brother, Jason, to be left in the lurch. Standoffish, bookish, i-heard-he-did-time, 'whats it to you' Jason, who has maybe two friends but they go to a different school so he doesn't have anyone to sit with at lunch besides his charming older brother. Dick's party line is, "If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my bro. Good luck! :)" (Something something, Dick and Jason are both adopted, something something Dick doesn't actually wanna date anyone, send tweet)

NOW. Fast forward to when Dick meets someone he might actually want to date. But to keep the ravenous hordes away from him, he still, regretfully, must stick to his guns. Jason needs to be dating/friends with/hanging out with/etc someone else before he and this person (again, Your Dickship of Choice Here) can boogie down.

Cue Dick nudging Jason out of the blue to strike out on his own and Jason getting squinty-eyed suspicious (and secretly a little hurt) that Dick apparently sees him as some kind of burden to be offloaded or whatever. Thanks bro. :(

Thus, Dick and his prospective SO hatch a Scheme. A Scheme to see Jason Woo'd in such a way to keep the heat off Dick from both the collective horny student body AND his sensitive younger brother. Enter Tim Drake.

Tim transferred this year and people have been speculating like crazy about him. His grades are insane so people think he'll be a nerd, but he skateboards to school so people think he'll be a stoner, but he's crazy athletic so people think he'll be trying out for the swim team or something - but mostly? People don't know shit. He's friendly enough, but stays apart. An enigma. Cuts school at least twice a week, hasn't seemed to pick any one crowd with which to integrate, is unaffiliated with any one piece of the greater student body. The most anyone can really tell is that he's just a little unhinged and strapped for cash. He'll pull some crazy stunts - if you've got the money.

Which makes him perfect.

Cue Shakespearean shenanigans leading to Some Asshole (your choice of Dick notp here) offering to pay Tim if he dates Jason Todd-Wayne. Tim thinks it's kinda stupid and an asshole move at first, but apparently the money is too good for him to pass up. So he bites.

Tim stalkers his way into interacting with Jason (something something Jason shoving Tim against the wall outside a 7-11 after school and snarling in his face, "i know you're following me. the fuck do you want" and Tim smirking at him, "to ask you out." Jason blinking, then dropping him like he's been burned. "Bullshit." Tim shrugging and running to catch up, falling into step beside him. "It's the truth." Huge Jason side-eye.) and events spiral from there.

(Vulnerable conversations. Jason: People look at me like I'm trash. Like I'm one bad day away from snapping and proving that they were right not to trust me all along. Like I don't have feelings that matter. I like that you're not scared of me. I like that you seem to fuckin'... like me. Or whatever. But I don't know how to trust it. Tim: People only want me around when they think they can get something out of me. They don't like me just what I can do for them. You've never made me feel like that. You don't give a shit about what I can do. It makes me want to-- it makes me want to give you things. To do things for you. I dunno. I guess I'm just waiting for you to tell me to fuck off and finally mean it.)

The reveals go badly. Hurt and betrayal on every side. (Turns out Tim needed the money because his mom's dead, dad's in a coma, and the family company that was supposed to keep Tim afloat has gone belly up. All of his parents' money is tied up in trusts and behind red tape. He's on his own.) Jason is pissed at Tim, but pissed at Dick especially.

The brothers fight. It's a doozy. Dick apologizes for going over Jason's head and manipulating things. Jason apologizes for being an asshole and making Dick feel like he has to be the responsible golden child 24/7, and also for punching Dick in the face. They promise to do better. Then Jason tracks Tim down to his shitty apartment (Tim had seemed super nervous the one time Jason had tried to come home with him, and now he thinks he knows why) and bangs on his door. He hasn't been to school in over a week.

They fight. It's great.

("What you did was shitty." "Yeah." "I don't forgive you for it." "...yeah." "So you better start thinking about how you're gonna fuckin' make it up to me." "Y-yeah?" "Yeah. Like fuck I'm missing prom this year when I finally have a fuckin' boyfriend.") (Now kiss)

[don't ask me how old they are/what grades they're in. i simply do not want to contemplate it. i'd call this a college au for my own sanity, but the very premise and interest in social hierarchies is just so inherently high school that it would fall apart lmfao]

[riaki]

nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[coolnonsenseworld]

Samurai and Ninja in crappy pics because December here is under a constant cloud and I just want y'all to see them all golden and cute without learning how to take aesthetic pictures 🥴 💙❤️😆🥰

linktr.ee/Mezzy

[gilgil-machine]

Speaking on enkidu's death and Gilgamesh mourning. What do you think that in fgo caster gil don't speak with enkidu? Or at least that caster room line about enkidu

I've talked about this a little in this post but recently I listened on Spotify a podcast on the epic of Gilgamesh and one of the podcasters is a scholar or one of the translators that works with the text and they were analyzing the epic and if you want to listen to it for yourself here's links to two parts (part 1; part 2) And they mentioned a few different things that caught my attention.

First, the importance of Enkidu's role in Gilgamesh's life because they were not just his friend, partner/lover and advisor but also like a literal representation of chains that were bounding and restraining Gilgamesh and leading him towards the right path, because as it was mentioned Gilgamesh is an unstable character with restless heart. And so I also think that's why he left Enkidu's chains to himself (as some people like to headcanon, including myself, Gil got out of Enkidu's body after they died) and he left them as not only in a memory of his dear friend and lover but also as a reminder of his position and duties and reminder about the path that Enkidu helped him to get on.

And secondly I love how that person divides the epic into two parts before Enkidu's death and after Enkidu's death and that person pointed out two interesting things about Gilgamesh and his relationship with Enkidu.

In first half Gilgamesh described as this heavy masculine figure, just total gigachad and in his relationship with Enkidu the more time they were spending together the more, as that person said, obsessed they were getting with each other and it was clearly shown via text while they were talking to each other the text had became so vague that you just at times can't understand where talks Gilgamesh and where talks Enkidu as if those two merged into one person.

And in second half of the text the complete opposite had been shown, Gilgamesh wasn't been portrait as the masculine figure but more as a feminine, affectionate and vulnerable figure and at times he was compared to a lioness or a woman that lost her children while he was grieving over Enkidu. And his relationship towards Enkidu changed as well because in the first half it was shown that those two were obsessed with one another to the point of almost merging into one person while in second half, after Enkidu died, Gilgamesh felt like he lost his second half, the second part of himself and now because of that contrast one is alive and the other is dead, he got scared of death and didn’t wish to share the same path as Enkidu and that's why he got on his journey to get an immortality herb because he wanted to be now unlike Enkidu and just be his separate self and become immortal and I think that's one of the reasons why Gilgamesh pushed himself away from Enkidu because he felt ashamed and also he's scared to attach himself to them.

And also another thing that that person mentioned and the same thing Gilgamesh said in fate extra ccc that Gilgamesh got fully mature only after his journey to get immortality.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hello helloo! i just read through your modern au and I'm in love (shocker), i wanted to ask if you'd give some more info on poppy? apologies if there's already a dedicated post to her, looking is not my specialty

there is not! i will gladly ramble!

~

in this au, Poppy is slightly less fearful than canon. this is for several reasons! 1) years of therapy. 2) anxiety meds. 3) teenage years of her friends dragging her out for Shenanigans & hyping her tf up! but she's still a worrywart! she's very cautious! she can and Will see the bad/dengerous side to every situation. but! now she has the tools to not only cope with but combat her intrusive thoughts & fears <3

i think i mentioned it before but she Did Not Realize she was trans until highschool! specifically, when she met Sally! Poppy had to stop by the theater department after school for some reason or another, and Sally noticed her looking longingly at the costume dresses (Poppy thought she was alone lol)

and while Poppy was mortified at being caught, Sally was delighted. they only knew each other in passing and from reputation but Sally started holding up dresses to Poppy and complimenting how well they suited her. (i could joke about how Sally could sniff out the lesbian in her before Poppy even knew she was a girl!) Poppy, flustered by the sudden attention and apparent acceptance, didn't know how to handle it and fled. then started avoiding Sally in the halls. but! eventually she had to go back for Insert Reason Here, and ofc Sally was there. this time around Sally is a little gentler and less assertive, but manages to coax Poppy into checking out the more ~feminine~ costumes again. thus begins their little meetings where Poppy tries on costumes and Sally is her biggest hypeman

it takes a while for things to Click in Poppy's mind! it isn't until she tries on a dress that Sally custom-made for her, wearing some makeup and a wig, that Poppy has her oh moment. unfortunately, some of their ~mutual friends~ (Wally, Barnaby, Howdy) walk in on them. there's a short, terrifying moment where Wally is all "who's your friend, Sally?" and Barnaby has to lean over to let him know "that's Poppy, bud". before Poppy can fully freak out, Wally immediately goes OH! and starts complimenting how pretty she looks. Barnaby chimes in next to ask if the dress is home-made bc it fits Poppy beautifully, Howdy nabs a necklace from the nearby gathered accessories and put it on her to "tie the outfit together". in short! Poppy finds nothing but support from her buddies & they're more than happy to help her figure out this new internal crisis / revelation

then of course eventually she's found out by her family, which goes very well (im using sarcasm! it goes terribly!). Poppy isn't outright disowned or kicked out or in immediate danger, but her relationship with her family is ruined by their transphobic bigotry. her friends have her back throughout this, and the guest room at the Beagle farm is always open to her! Sally continues to make custom clothes for Poppy (something that becomes a love language for the two of them <3).

honestly, this period in Poppy's life is part of what like... idk... strengthens her, in a way? her continuing to be herself and actively rebelling against her family, i mean. Poppy becomes a pretty stellar liar lol (lying to her parents about where she's going, who she's hanging out with, what she does after school, etc). she's very cautious about all of it, but she does it! she's determined to pursue and discover and Realize the woman inside her! i have this sweet scene in my mind of the Group at the Beagle farm chilling on the floor with notebooks, brainstorming on possible names. (Sally enthusiastically says a variation of 'exquisite' to each one, and then when Poppy says 'im not sure about that one' Sally - still enthusiastically - says a variation of 'horrible terrible how could you suggest such an ill-fitting name'). despite everyone's efforts, i like to think that Poppy finds her name entirely on accident! maybe during the Gap Year Road Trip! maybe they stop by a SoCal poppy reserve in superbloom and the flowers Resonate with her! who's to say!

but Poppy begins her (medical) transition in college! she, of course, gets shit for it, but she also begins to find community and enjoyment in the local queer community. and of course, she has her buddies <3

but anyway! i like to think that Poppy participates in local farmer's markets with her crochet work & baked goods, the latter of which is a complete hit! that, plus her first experience with going to a tearoom inspires her to strive towards owning her own! tearooms are right up her alley, i'd say - calm, quiet, and Poppy can make peoples' days a little brighter with a tranquil atmosphere & delicious treats! i swear i have a reason between 'Poppy british = she goes into tea business'. honestly! tearooms are more about the tiny sammies & tasty cones w/ cream! and feeling Fancy while chatting!

i think it takes a while for her to actually be able to start up a tearoom. I'd imagine she starts by holding a small, single-table reservation-based one in her own place once the Group decides on what town to move to. it's successful, slowly (but steadily) grows, until she can get an actual House and transform the ground floor into a full tearoom. lil shop by the checkout counter, several different rooms, a sizeable kitchen. staff! the tearoom is a humble one, but it's a killer holiday & tourist destination! the high ratings even bring in people from out of town!

and when it comes to Poppy & Sally, bc yall know i'm a sucker for Popstar - i like to think that they start dating after (mostly) all of them move into their new town. & after they both have been in prior relationships! and then they never stop dating. well, they do, but that's so that they can upgrade to Wife Status. and then they never stop being wives so there <3

but Poppy is successful and happy! she had a rough go of it but she Makes It! and she continues to make it!

[metaphorical-goblin]

#18 kiss with Junthena

“Oh, this is a good one!” Athena thrusts another flower into Juniper’s hands. “What’s this one?” 

Junie looks down at it, brushes her fingers over the rows upon rows of petals. “Well, it’s a rose, though I’m sure you guessed that.”

“I did.”

“It might be a chippendale garden rose?” She tucks it into her hodgepodge bouquet, assembled entirely from Athena’s own clippings. “But I think they try to develop their own flowers here, so… this might be a new variety?”

“I can check the tag for you!” Athena jumps back and forth on her feet, like she’s about to do a fifty-meter dash (which… she probably is. Her girlfriend never passes up an opportunity to run). “Just give me, like, two seconds—”

“Oh, Thena…”

But she’s already sprinting off, and Junie holds her flowers to her chest as she watches her legs flex in her shorts. They’re a good blend like this, she thinks. Juniper spent almost her entire life before school in the woods, so she had the chance to become rather intimate with all sorts of forestry. She can still remember sifting through her grandma’s hand-crafted guidebook, with unblemished leaves from white oaks and red oaks and northern oaks and— well, a bunch of other trees that weren’t oaks.

Thena, on the other hand, had always lived in the city. Hustle and bustle were her norms, and even though Juniper couldn’t quite wrap her head around that, she appreciated having a hand to hold while they walked through busy streets and fought traffic to get to this experimental garden off a nearby college’s campus. They had a good balance like that; Junie to slow them down, and Athena to pull them through.

She crouches beside a stalk of irises (bleeding hearts, maybe?) and strokes them gently with her finger as Athena sprints back up. “Rosa occasus solis!” she says confidently, sporting an award-winning grin.

At Juniper’s blank stare, she clarifies. “Sunset rose! Which makes sense ‘cause of the…” Then, she reaches over, gently, and traces the outside edges of the flower’s head, red fading into orange. “The colors and everything.”

“Oh, wow!” Juniper holds it closer to her face, thumbing through the different layers. “What a unique name. I wonder how they developed it?”

“There’s— There’s actually a tour! Over there!” Athena thumbs over her shoulder. “And we can definitely join it because it’s led by this volunteer that’s worked here for twenty years or something, and— Oh! And they have over seven hundred varieties of hosta! And the story is pretty cool, but I’d rather you hear it from, you know, her.”

Juniper’s chest tightens. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose on the group. It’s… It’s no trouble. We can keep wandering ourselves.”

“No, it wouldn’t be any trouble! It’s free to join and everything! Since, you know. She’s a volunteer.”

“Um…” It wasn’t that Juniper didn’t want to; in fact, she really, really wanted to. “I just don’t want to be a bother, is all. I don’t need to see everything.” 

Athena stared at her, lips pursed, as her eyes traced up and down. Then, she shrugged. “Well, alright, I guess. If you’re sure.” Then, she leaned forward to give her a kiss. Junie had started to come around on the sweet, casual kisses in the middle of shopping or walking or simply meeting after her classes. It was just her simple way of showing everyone, “yes, this is my girlfriend, and I love her so so much.”

This time, though, when she reached up to cup Thena’s cheek, Athena did something different. Junie’s head tipped back, and Athena—

Athena reared back and blew so hard into her mouth that Juniper was simply… stunned into silence. She could almost swear her cheeks blew out, just a little. Her wrist still rested on Athena’s shoulder as she pulled back, blinked, and Athena’s grin simply grew wider and wider. 

“Okay?”

“I…” I wanted a kiss, actually… “Why did you do that?” she asks, a confused giggle bubbling out of her.

“So you,” she said, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose, “would do this.” Then, in true Athena fashion, the woman turned on her heel and sprinted away, running back to the tour group, who had since made their way over to the miniature swamp section.

Juniper laughed. “Athena Cykes!” She could hear Thena laughing even now, glancing over her shoulder and slowing her pace to run backwards for a few steps. 

“Come on!” she goads from across the lawn. “Are you gonna come get your kiss or not?”

Junie’s heart flutters in her chest. She pulls her flowers closer to her. 

Then, she slips off her wedges and hikes up her skirt. 

“Wait for me!”

---

send me a smoochie prompt!

[roomba-mangga]

taking a little break from writing for a few days to cool down the brain but first... yaad&thistle au fic preview under the cut. this is clocking in at 12k atm, i haven't finished drafting all the scenes yet, but i am deeply enjoying this one.

[rexscanonwife]

IT'S....MY TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY WITH REX NEXT MONTH??

[theredcuyo]

I imagine Mia seeing her student get every single piece of paper where Miles Edgeworth is, this guy with a terrible personality and dubious methods as she remembers, and then think to herself “I already knew you had bad taste, but i didn’t think it was this bad”

For the record, i do think she knew about Phoenix becoming a lawyer for the chance of seeing him again, but that doesn’t change the fact that she can’t understand this crush he has on the man

[lesbiansanemi]

I’ve been spending less and less time on this stupid ass website recently and honestly….. good