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kkvqwrites · 2 years ago

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Bedside Manner

Reader goes into labor while Simon's away and calls the first person she can think of. The task force (and some other friends in high places) rally around the couple on the most important day of their lives.

Word Count: 2,587

Characters (in order of appearance): fem!Reader (no use of y/n), Capt. John Price, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kate Laswell

CW: childbirth, hospital setting, medical procedures

A/N: Am I a Ghost girlie? Absolutely. Am I also a sucker for the found family trope? Til I die. This idea wouldn't leave me alone and I'm so glad I stuck with it. I love the way this came out and hope you like it!

"Dear? Everything okay?"

The captain's voice on the other end of the line sounded worried. Both he and Simon had drilled it into you to never hesitate to call Price if you needed anything while your husband was away, but you couldn't help feeling a bit guilty.

"Um, I think so," you began, willing your voice to stay level and upbeat. "I think I just - oof.." Another contraction hit, stealing the air from your lungs. They were coming more consistently now, and hard enough to stop you in your tracks.

This could not be happening.

"What's wrong? Are you alright? Are you hurt?" You could hear movement in the background, him gathering his things to be out the door and on his way to you.

"I'm fine, John. I just didn't know who else to call. I think the baby might be coming?" The words came out pinched as you worked through the tail end of the contraction. The captain swore loudly.

"Stay put, love. I'm on the way - everything will be alright. Want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"No, no, that's fine. Stay safe and I'll see you when you get here." You hung up before he could argue and fuss like a mother hen.

______________________________________________________________

The knock at the door startled you. You looked at the clock - surely that couldn't be John already. The man lived across town. Not trusting yourself to make it to the door, you called out.

"It's open!"

Turns out it wasn't Price, but Gaz, who stepped into your living room and began taking in the scene. It was a sight to be sure: you, doubled over sitting on your yoga ball, rocking back and forth to try to alleviate some of the pressure in your hips, towel around your neck because you were sweating like a pig, ambient white noise filtering through the bluetooth speaker to keep you calm. For all his usual swagger and poise, Gaz looked a bit frightened.

"Kyle, did John call you? I'm so sorry - I'm sure you were busy-"

"Not at all, I rushed over as soon as I got word." The sergeant came to your side and knelt until he was eye level. "The captain's on his way but I was closer. We didn't want you to be alone any longer than necessary."

"You and your task force are worse than a quilting circle." The jab came with a joking smile, but the smile was cut short by the stab of another contraction. At the sight of your face screwing up in pain, Kyle's eyes got big.

"Can I do something? Do you need anything?" He wrung his hands as he fussed, seemingly unsure whether to touch you or whether you'd bite him if he tried. Admittedly, you weren't too sure yourself.

"Need you to reset - the timer." The words came out through clenched teeth as your muscles tensed and screamed. "Contractions - need to time them."

"The timer - right." He sprung into action, undoubtedly happy to have a defined task to accomplish. As he was fiddling with the device, Price stormed through the door, his demeanor all-business.

"Gaz? What's the situation?" The sergeant hopped to attention as if he was at roll call.

"Got here not long ago myself, Cap. Just reset the timer for contractions."

"Where are we at?"

"Thirteen minutes, sir."

The captain turned to you, assessing you from top to bottom. His expression and his voice softened considerably as he spoke.

"Ready to get to the hospital, love?"

"Can't - they told me to wait until they're five minutes apart." The man looked bewildered.

"And just let you sit here and suffer? Not on my watch. Gaz, grab my keys - "

"John," you interrupted. "I already called. They won't admit me yet. We just need to wait it out."

"Nonsense, love. You wait til I get someone's ear over there. Five minutes my arse." He moved to help you stand, but stopped in his tracks as he took in your face, your lip trembling. "Is there something else?" As if on cue, a fat tear rolled down your cheek, the first of its kind since the pains began.

"This isn't supposed to be happening," you squeaked out. "Not for a few more weeks. Simon's supposed to be here."

The men shared a glance, looking stricken. Price leaned down next to you, a broad hand gently squeezing your shoulder. His voice was soft when he spoke, a renewed slowness replacing his prior rushed pace.

"I know, love. I know it's not ideal, and I know you're scared. I know Simon would give anything to be here, that he'd split heaven and earth to be with you right now. But I also know he'd want you and your little one taken care of, yeah? He wouldn't want you to wait."

You nodded, despite more tears threatening. "Doesn't change the fact they won't admit me yet."

The captain's mouth quirked defiantly. "You let me worry about that. Gaz, help her up. I'll drive."

______________________________________________________________

Simon was tired down to his bones, feeling like a wrung out rag after the most recent mission. Despite that, the man was a ball of energy as he hopped off the plane, desperate to get back to you.

"Someone's antsy," Soap drawled, taking a more leisurely pace. He slid his sunglasses on as Simon switched on his cell phone anxiously. "Got somewhere to be, LT?"

"'Matter of fact I do - home." Simon impatiently hiked his duffel bag higher on his shoulder. "See my wife, eat a real meal. Finally build that godforsaken changing table. Who knew a baby needs so much furniture?"

Soap barked a laugh, but Simon tuned him out as he put his phone to his ear. He'd gotten a voicemail from you, and everything else ceased to matter.

"Hey babe, it's me. I'm not sure when you'll get this, and I hate to worry you. I'm sure it's fine. It's just... I've been feeling some contractions-"

Simon didn't hear the rest, nearly dropping his phone as he broke into a run.

______________________________________________________________

True to his word, Price argued with the hospital staff until you were taken up to a room. You were sure he must have pulled rank, threatened to call people, but he refused to let you worry about it.

The ride had been smooth, despite John driving like a bat out of hell. Gaz stayed in the back seat with you, clinging to your hand and fussing. Later, you'd think it was funny how he seemed to need more encouragement and support than he offered, but at that moment very little was funny.

You had been able to stay in denial for an admirably long time. The past few days, you were able to tell yourself it was just Braxton-Hicks contractions, not the real thing. That even when it became evident the real thing was starting, that it wouldn't progress quickly. That even though it was progressing, that Simon would walk in the door just at the right moment and sweep you into the car and off to the hospital and all would be well. Even when your gut told you to pick up the phone and call the captain, you had managed to make yourself believe that you were wrong, that it was a false alarm, that you still had more time.

Now, here you were, connected to monitors and being poked and prodded by nurses. Medical history, allergies, birth plan, you felt like you were in interrogation rather than a patient receiving care. And if it wasn't the nurses it was the two men standing off to the side, one wringing his hands in worry and one watching the nurses like a hawk and barking questions. The contractions were closer to eight minutes apart now, progressing quickly. Now the situation was very real, and as thankful as you were from the support from Price and Gaz, your heart threatened to shatter at the absence of the one person who mattered most.

______________________________________________________________

"Bloody fuckin' hell, no one will answer their phone!" Ghost barked, ready to throw his out the window. He'd had radio silence other than a second voicemail, this one from the Captain:

"Simon, Price here. Just got word from the missus that the baby's on the way. I'm headed there now. I don't want you to worry about a thing, I won't leave her side. I'll update you as I'm able."

"She knew to call the captain; he's probably with her now," Soap offered from the driver's seat. He'd practically had to arm wrestle Simon for the keys, but ended up convincing him that he'd be able to call for updates if he wasn't worried about driving. Silently, he thanked the saints Simon had agreed; who knows what carnage he'd unleash on the roads as worked up as he was.

"He better be, or I'll - not now, Laswell!" Simon rejected the third call from the station chief since landing and tried Price again. He was sure he'd hear about it for skipping debrief and jumping in the car, but right now he couldn't bring himself to give a shit. When Price's phone again went to voicemail, he was about to go nuclear when the car's Bluetooth lit up with Laswell's number.

"Shite; let me answer it LT." Soap pushed the button. "Laswell, it's Soap. Here with Ghost."

"I know," she said impatiently, her voice filling the space. "I've been trying to call all afternoon. I know what's happening and I'm here to help."

"What? How do you know?"

"Price called me as soon as he got word, asked me to find you. Anyway, you're wasting time heading in that direction; there's a lane closure ahead and you're about to be neck deep in traffic. I've mapped an alternate route for you. Take the next left."

The two men looked at each other in confusion before both starting to speak at the same time.

"Left? That takes us the wrong way-" "How do you know where we're at?"

"Boys! Boys, listen," she continued, exasperated. "Don't worry about how I know, just do as I say. We're gonna get you there as fast as possible. Now turn left!"

Soap cut the car to the left, ignoring the indignant honks of other drivers as he began to cut through the city under Laswell's watchful eye.

______________________________________________________________

"The doctor says you'll be ready to start pushing soon. How are you feeling?" The nurse was genuinely trying to be nice, so you bit back on your retort of how the fuck does it look like I'm feeling? My insides are exploding! and instead chose a weak smile and a head nod.

Once the nurse whisked away, Price was back at your side. You could tell by his expression he wanted to give you a pep talk like you were one of his soldiers about to head into battle, but he was searching for the right thing to say. You broke the silence first.

"I'm scared." Your voice sounded small, the words escaping almost of their own volition. The captain took your hand, blessedly avoiding sugarcoating the situation.

"I know. But you're doing great - a real trooper. Even with the needle in the back! Simon's gonna be so proud of you, love. And Gaz and I are gonna be right here. Right Gaz?"

"Right, Cap." The sergeant slid back into the room, cup of ice in hand. While the captain had taken point and begun advocating for you with the hospital staff and asking a million questions, Gaz had been dutifully making sure you were comfortable. Anything from getting you an extra pillow for your back, to helping you tie your hair back, to getting you ice chips since you couldn't have food or drink during labor, he was on it. If either man was uneasy about what was about to happen, they dutifully kept it under wraps and maintained their game faces.

One by one, the care team took up positions around you to get started. Price and Gaz got next to you, each taking one of your hands, ready to offer what support they could. You shamed yourself, one last time, for being ungrateful for their presence. A lot of people give birth with less, you tried to tell yourself. He’d be here if he could.

The doctor walked in, donning gloves and getting a quick status update from one of the nurses before meeting your eyes. “Evening, ma’am. We’re going to-”

Her words were cut off by a commotion in the hall, a door slamming and what sounded like some raised voices. Everyone in the room exchanged confused glances, and Price motioned for Gaz to go investigate. He poked his head out into the hall for only a moment before returning with a big grin.

“You’re not gonna believe who’s here."

Then your husband was in the doorway, and then he was at your side, and suddenly those honey brown eyes drowned out every ounce of pain and fear you’d been holding onto, and that warm, calloused hand took yours, and you were ready.

______________________________________________________________

You would have thought it would be difficult to fall asleep under fluorescent lights, with monitors beeping and staff bustling around. But you had never known tiredness like this, and wanted to take the nurse’s advice and rest while the pain meds were still working their magic. The delivery had been uneventful once the show was on the road, and Simon never left your side, his steady presence grounding and his voice in your ear keeping you calm. Then there she was, a baby girl, the most precious tiny thing you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d stared at her and cried for hours, stroking her tiny hand and welcoming her to the world until you could barely keep your eyes open. And so, with a squeeze of your hand and a kiss on your forehead from Simon, you found yourself drifting off. You were aware, as you floated off, of his slow pacing back and forth with your newborn daughter in his arms, of his whispers to her that were too low for you to hear. Of the guys popping in, as unobtrusively as possible lest the lieutenant tear them limb from limb for disturbing you and the baby, bringing him food and coffee and admiring the bundle of joy.

“Doesn’t look a thing like you, Simon,” said Soap.

“Thank God for that,” he replied.

“You should have seen it, Simon really - needle this long, right in the spine!” Price remarked, not for the first time. “She didn’t even flinch.”

“I’m just glad you made it for the gross stuff,” mumbled Gaz.

“Kyle, you’re in the military. You’ve seen arms and legs blown off.”

“Completely different, Johnny. Not the same at all.”

On and on they bantered, brothers in arms stepping into their role as uncles for your baby girl with delight. One of the last things you heard was Simon, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you, all of you, for being here. For today.”

“Oh come off it Simon,” replied the Captain. “These girls mean something to you, so they mean something to us. That’s what a family is. Now quit hogging her and let Uncle John have a turn.”

You wouldn’t remember this conversation when you woke up, wouldn’t be able to articulate where it came from, but you’d carry with you the bone-deep feeling of connection with this little makeshift family forever.

#cod ghost #cod ghost fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mwii ghost #task force 141 #john price #soap mactavish #gaz garrick #kate laswell #mwii fanfic

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sunny-knight · 4 days ago

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@forgettable-au FAN ANIMATION ! LOUD NOISE WARNING!

*What was it all for…?

Song: Vishnu <3 by Peter Cat Recording Co.

…okay.

The main inspiration for this…can be summed up with I LOVE HOW SAD THIS CONCEPT IS. BUT i also adore how WEIRD it is.

This whole thing must be pretty weird and creepy for the characters right??? Like- we dont know for certain what EXACTLY is gonna happen, but we know for a fact that Wingdings finds out hes in a game, then kills himself so he can be closer with god-

THATS PRETTY WEIRD 😭😭 also sad but we can ignore that for now

I also experimented a tad with this in working with silence, so timing things at my own pace! It was really hard! I HAD SO MUCH FUN!!!!!!!

But, time for my FAVORITE PART….ANALYSIS!!!

DISCLAIMER: some things stated as fact haven’t been said in the blog/arent canon to the au itself, just my animation/theories/interpretation, cause i’m silly and headcanoning :3

TITLE:

The proper title ive given this is “To You” which means 2 different and very vague things. What happened to you? and sending a message like “this is To You”.

In that case, “you” is whichever version of Papyrus/Wingdings/Gaster you want- Its not exactly clear which version of him means “you” which is kinda the point. The lines blur together sometimes…

But yeah, Gaster/crazy WD sends messages TOO himself so they’re “To You”

CONTEXT

Wingdings has JUST turned himself into Gaster. Ignore how impossible Sans interacting with him in this moment is, and just hear me out on the angst possibilities-

SCENE 1

As Sans approaches the mess- Gaster is encased in shadow, and looks at him. Expression not telling much- just looking blankly. Doesn’t even look like he’s alive… just… moving. Also the eye thats open, is just a slit. because- perspective. BUT I also had fun putting that there and going hehehehe it looks like WD/Papyrus’ eye

Sans approaches, and getting engulfed in the shadow, leaving the light.

His expression here was REALLY fun and REALLY hard to draw. Angry? maybe. stunned and terrified? DEFINITELY.

In this context (that doesn’t have a lot to go off of with the comics, YET) Sans knows that this was all very much intentional. He absolutely does not want to be angry, and is certainly only feeling it subconsciously.

But… he wanted so badly to understand, and enter his brother world. But now, Sans is just… Baffled. Hes like “what the fuck did you do???”

SCENE 2

Gaster continues to look blank. Looking up at Sans as he approaches, encasing him in even more shadow.

Sans’ hand reaches to Gasters face. From Sans’ perspective, his intentions are like checking for a pulse. Not literally ofc cause pulses arent on our face- but like, feeling for him. For a sign that something is there. (It’s also meant to be something motherly/comforting)

But then, Gaster leans into the touch, somewhat reciprocating this wordless “ive got you” gesture. That’s what makes Sans go from Terrified to just purely grief stricken. His brother is still alive. And he loves him.

But this form wont last for long…For universe fixing screw ups reasons :D 👍

SCENE 3

Gaster then opens his eyes, revealing hes even still got eye lights available for him. Thats what just SHATTERS the dam, and Sans embraces him suddenly.

SCENE(S) 4

Then, the “reset” happens, Gaster is gone, and Papyrus appears in place of Wingdings in his bed.

Nothing is boiling to add to a “frozen in terror” feeling!

Now- drawing all of the differences between the past and present rooms. DESTROYED ME. i HAD SO MUCH FUN BUT I ALSO CRIED 😭 There are no thank-you letters to santa, no racecar bed, no silly bone painting, no action figures, just BORING

I also wanted to keep everything monochromatic, so ofc we’ve got black and white for the void/Gaster, blue for Sans, red for Papyrus, and purple for Sans and Papyrus together.

The tape recorder and lab coat are still greyscale though cause Wingdings still has SOME of his stuff lying around. But the tapes are indecipherable, and Papyrus threw out that lab coat the first chance he got. It gave him the absolute worst feeling, worse than anything he’s ever experienced.

Something I also really enjoy is the fact that the dress shirts were still technically Wingdings’ but they’re red for Papyrus. The lab coat is the only real WINGDINGS thing that Papyrus wants absolutely no part in. Some things that were Wingdings’ are now Papyrus’ cause :D👍

in place of the bone painting are just family photos that I also have extra to say about. Someday I wanna make a comic of what happened to those/what I think would happen to em.

One day Papyrus is like “HEY UH- SANS! THESE PHOTOS! I DON’T LIKE LOOKING AT THEM! CAN WE NOT!?” Aka, he doesn’t remember these things happening/these photos being taken… BUT THEYRE PHOTOS OF HIM.

So he just feels really uncomfortable looking at memories he should reasonably remember, but doesn’t at all- and Sans gets that. But he keeps em in his drawer. Then! they hung up the bone thing in place of it cause SILLY!

But the family photos, I still had fun with. From left to right theyre a photo of Semi with the twins, the twins as baby bones, then as slightly older kids, then WDs graduation photo.

CONCLUSION!

This entire thing was so much fun, and I feel i’ve really grown as an artist over the process of experimenting and not being knocked down by annoying setbacks,

Also, as usual, Works In Progress’ plus extra behind the scenes stuff will be posted shortly after this!! YIPPEEE!!! HAPPY NIGHTMARES!!!!!

OHHHH ALSO EXTRA ART!!!

“AREN’T THEY BEAUTIFUL?”

That silly moment when your clone is really weirdly obsessed with stars and enthusiastically holds your eye sockets open to show you them

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under-lore · 1 month ago

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How does Sans feel about Papyrus' death ?

A lot of common Undertale-related debates revolve around the morality of a character.

But among these, the one about Sans' reaction to Papyrus' death somewhat stands out. Both because of how widespread it is, but also because of the way two opposite yet equally inaccurate interpretations of it repeatedly seem to clash against one another.

So let's take a look at how Sans actually behaves in Undertale after his brother is killed :

First, we can observe a number of changes in his behavior, showcasing that he is not unaffected by it.

To start with an obvious one, the fact that nearly all of Sans' other casual appearances during that playthrough will be gone, Sans just... doesn't show up.

No pranks with telescopes, no stacking 29 hotdogs on your head.

While one flavor text with Shyren mentions that he is still 'watching over us' in some form even then due to his promise, he is evidently not as thrilled about this as usual.

But his lack of enthusiasm when it comes to watching over Frisk isn't the only thing that changes.

For instance, there is a present for Papyrus under the tree in Snowdin. However, as soon as Papyrus is killed and Sans vanishes, the present disappears along with him. Implying that Sans has retrieved the gift that his brother will not be able to open anymore.

He also appears to not have gone to Grillby's after our passage in Snowdin this time around. Something that's apparently quite unusual for him as it is part of his routine for that time of day.

And of course, in some iterations of his judgement scene in neutral routes :

...Needless to say that claiming Sans is totally unaffected by the death of his brother is inaccurate. While we do not see much of it, it is fairly solidly implied that Sans does grief his brother at least in his own way. And he does hold it against us to an extent.

However, that isn't all there is to it.

Sans' knowledge of RESETs does play a role in the way he handles the situation. Just not quite in the way it is often portrayed.

First, Sans may be aware of resets, but he does not remember them. This means that for a given Sans, the loss of his brother still feels permanent for that particular timeline iteration's Sans.

Knowing his brother will probably be alive again in another timeline eventually doesn't mean his loss in this one isn't real. Even if it does happen, he will not be there to see it. At least not this version of him.

However, Sans does still have a couple tricks up his sleeve, that maybe, if things work out, could spare of that fate the other Sans'es.

I showed this line earlier on :

However, this line isn't just Sans showing us his feelings about our actions. Instead, it is a part of a much more tricky strategy Sans begins engaging in after Papyrus is killed :

Psychological warfare.

The anomaly has reset this world many times before, and in neutral routes, he is left with the impression that it will likely do so again. This thought had previously been a demotivating one for Sans as he explained in genocide.

This was the case whilst Sans lived a semi-regular life under the constant threat of everything being undone on the snap of a finger.

However, now that what Sans incorrectly believes to be the anomaly has revealed itself and killed his brother, the situation has actually somewhat changed.

A reset, while it would wipe out his memories, would still bring his brother back to a different Sans. Papyrus' death doesn't have to be truly permanent. Because of this, Sans now wants the anomaly to reset. Not to keep doing it forever, but at least just one more time, to make sure that this timeline won't be the one that'll end up sticking around for good.

He also has a secondary motive :

While he is at it, he might also try to get the anomaly to changes its ways. Of course, Sans knows he's not a time traveller, not a god, but just a guy who is probably not capable of forcing a being such as the anomaly to change.

That being said, maybe, just maybe, he could help in giving it a little push to make it decide to want to change on its own.

To incite a RESET to happen, Sans has one main strategy : Making the anomaly regret its actions.

Sans believes that the anomaly keeps on RESETing the world because it is unable to find fulfillment, and that it keeps consuming timelines out of a desire to find happiness one way or another.

Thus, Sans aims to make the anomaly feel like this timeline can't be what they were looking for. Ensuring that, for the anomaly's quest for happiness to continue, they will have no choice but to reset this timeline as well.

That is the reason why Sans asks us this question :

The question was very carefully chosen on his part.

It both serves to confirm the anomaly's identity, but also more importantly, no matter what they answer, it allows him to either point out that the anomaly's actions did not match with their own morals, or forces them into making a selfish confession which he can then use to make them feel like they've done the wrong thing.

In either case, Sans is able to present his brother's death as an event that would only bring the anomaly further unhappiness. And thus, might get the anomaly to reach by itself the conclusion that the only way for it to find happiness now would be to RESET this world once more and avoiding killing Papyrus again in the future. A pretty good outcome for Sans.

This is what he refers to as taking it the 'easy way' to deal with an aggressive anomaly in a few routes. (as opposed to the 'hard way' he mentions halfway through his genocide dialogue).

In the neutral endings in which Papyrus was slain, Sans once again attempts a similar strategy. Although the awareness that a RESET still hasn't taken place even after quite some time passed since the anomaly was last seen in the underground & his last attempt at it is likely quite worrying to him.

This leads him to be a little more blunt than last time when it comes to the ways he tries to make the anomaly feel like this timeline isn't the one. Although his approach method remains broadly the same.

Though these lines are still rather noteworthy :

Given Sans wants the anomaly to go back, they might sound odd to hear at first.

It turns out that the more brutal we have been throughout the run, the less optimistic Sans' approach to dealing with the anomaly becomes during the phone call.

Here, Sans might be trying to play on another bleaker aspect of his psychological profiling of the anomaly : The consideration that they may view the world as a kind of game to explore, in which if they 'can', then they 'have to'.

By saying it is not welcome down here, he is also saying that it won't be able to keep exploring the possibilities of this world unless it makes them all forget everything.

In another of the neutral endings where both Toriel and Papyrus are killed, Sans seems to begin to doubt wether the anomaly can really be redeemed after all.

This all ultimately culminates in the leaderless endings.

In this one, Sans acknowledges that this is likely not our first time hearing him saying those kinds of things over the phone.

And that his 'strategy' seems to have failed to push it towards the right path.

In this route, Sans appears to have reached a similar conclusion as in the genocide one, that his hope of a redeemable anomaly merely looking for happiness may have been just naive/wishful thinking on his part after all.

In sum, Sans' awareness of the RESETs does not prevent him from missing his brother if Papyrus is killed. However, it allows him to weaponise his own grief using the psychological profile he has made of the anomaly in order to attempt to push it to RESET. Although he knows his own memories would be wiped out if he is successful, it would ensure Papyrus' death isn't permanent. Depending on the run, he also still harbors a dwindling hope that the anomaly itself could be steered towards a better path.

He mostly just needs to convince them to RESET one way or another though.

Past that point, it'll be up to the other Sans'es.

#undertale #undertale theory #sans #sans undertale #undertale sans #papyrus #papyrus undertale #undertale papyrus

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lurkingshan · 4 months ago

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Things That Have My Attention in 4 Minutes Episode 2

Great is truly an unusually unlikeable protagonist. The fact that Title is his closest friend speaks volumes, as does his mild reaction when Title bragged that he had locked up his girlfriend. Great really didn't care until the situation suddenly escalated to Title asking him to help murder someone, and even then he tried to just leave Dome to his death before the powers yanked him back.

Speaking of, it seems the 4 minutes reset is activated whenever Great makes a cowardly and shitty choice. The powers that be want him to be a better person.

I am also curious about why Dome has been watching Title. He already had that phone set up to record him and View, and he also made sure her friend knew to go looking for her. Does he like her?

I was very interested in the reveal that Korn has another arrangement going on with Fah, the daughter of the man he seems to go to for shady assistance when he fucks up, in this case by trying to expand the gambling operation too quickly and leaving them vulnerable to a hack. And in this relationship, Korn is the subordinate one. Gives new shading to the way he treats Tonkla, with him is where he gets his power back.

And speaking of Tonkla, that appears to be him in the hoodie at the start of the episode bashing someone's head with a rock--which implies he killed his own brother?! But then was also mourning him, and not just performatively because we saw him alone.

Between the spooky cat last week and the quick and disturbing cuts while he was grieving, I am getting the sense that Tonkla is mentally unwell. Perhaps he doesn't even remember he is the one who killed his brother??

They didn't show us that picture he was hugging for a reason. Who is Tonkla's brother!

Tyme's primping and flirting this episode was very funny. I also got a kick out of the cockblock nurse constantly catching him, and his stumbling to explain how he just happened to be there when Great got attacked (he doesn't have any friends, let alone one who could afford to live in Great's neighborhood).

And to tie him into the other plot, that was him at the end receiving the data from the lady hacker, right? Is it Great's family that he is in debt to?

Noting also that the suicidal woman's son is already dead, so won't be revealed to be anyone in the story.

I continue to be so impressed with the filming and editing of this story, it's gorgeous and there is so much going on in every frame that it's hard to keep track of it all. In this episode it's the image of the red umbrella going flying that is sticking with me.

We continue to see 11:00 constantly. I think others have theorized that this is the time of the cardiac arrest event Great is likely experiencing, and when the clock moved to 11:01, it was ominous as fuck. Is that an indicator that his time in this experience is running out? Does he only have until 11:04?

This show is taking over my brain, come tell me your theories.

#4 minutes #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

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rhiaarrow · 9 months ago

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Honestly I think Bad and the Late Night Trio is my favorite dynamic that's come out of the QSMP.

And I'm not just talking about qBad, Dapper, Pomme and Richas I'm also talking about ccBad, Dappmin, Pommin and Ricardão.

It's just the little things they do, because they're just so used to each other by now and the adms have become such good friends because of the amount of time they spend together on and off the server.

There's just so many examples that stick in my head because they're just so sweet when you realize that none of this people knew each other this time last year.

Like the time when Richas just showed up in front of Bad randomly one day after the reset (the day that Dapper set up the magnet mining machine) and just went;

"Dapper told me through the magic of discord to come see the cool stuff you've been doing, what am I here to see tio?"

Or when Bad and Dapper were out investigating and Dapper puts down a sign saying;

"Richas won't stop telepathically asking if he can come visit."

To which Bad just offhandedly replies

"If he can Dragon Magic his way here then sure, but I am not walking all the way home already."

And sure enough, a few minutes later we hear Richas' horn sound out as he appears out of the blue, having finally been given permission by Dappmin to join their exploration

Not to mention the amount of times we've arrived and been told by Bad; "So heres what [Richas or Pomme or Dapper or any combination of those 3] and I did off stream. "

Or "No Richas I'm not leaving I'm just sending the Ghosties off."

Or when Bad was attempting to figure out how to bribe Richas into keeping his armour on in Lucky Ducks by figuring out what he loved the most before going

"If you don't put your armour on I'll take away fofoca time."

And then explained to the chat that 'fofoca time' is what Richas calls it when he and Bad hang out after stream and that got Richas to put his armour on immediately.

Or even today when Bad threatened to end stream in order to make Richas use a heart container.

Not to mention the night Pommin and Ricardão spent with ccBad training him in battleship before that day in Purgatory 2 or the night they spent modifying the egg signs together.

My favorite example of how close they are even outside of their characters will still forever be the night when Bad, Richas and Pomme were collecting ice together to cover the favela ocean and Ricardão and Pommin were very obviously sat in a vc together while the mined.

They spent a while teaching Bad and the other how to pronounce certain sounds in their native languages.

Then Richarlyson asked Bad about a sound he struggled with in English so Bad taught Ricardão how to make the 'th' sound in the English language correctly while Pommin judged the noise they were making because Bad obviously couldn't hear.

Then later Bad asks Pomme where Richas went since he wasn't visible on the map and she just stands there before telling him that she knows the location and taking him to the exact coordinates.

And they do that a couple times until Bad finally decides to sneak up on Richas and scares Ricardão so bad that he stops moving completely in game for a solid minute and Pommin is just keyboard smashing on signs because she's laughing too hard at how loudly they screamed.

And then Ricardão had to go afk for a couple minutes later on because someone had come to check on them since they'd screamed so loud so early in the morning and they had to tell them that they were, in fact, fine.

Sure right now the way they interact with each other definitely slightly breaks Bad's rp of not knowing each other, especially with Richas.

But at the end of the day when they hang out together it's not just qBad and Richarlyson, it's also Ricardão & ccBad who have spent a frankly ridiculous amount of hours playing together in the less than a year they've known each other (not counting the time Ricardão admitted to being a fan of BBH for).

In fact Ricardão confirmed to Foolish today that since the reset they're the player with the second highest playtime, after Bad, but only by a little bit, and I just think that's very fitting.

Long story short, I LOVE the late night trio and Bad's dynamic because they're just such a chaotic mess who are all willing to do anything and everything that one of them wants to do, no matter how ridiculous it sounds.

It's soooooooo hard to believe they've not even known each other for a year yet because they just all click so fucking well that it's insane.

People from 4 different nationalities, 3 of them playing speechless eggs, and they've become so close thanks to this server. I just think it's beautiful :')

(It is also 3am so I may just be rambling nonsense, so if this makes no sense forgive me xD)

#qsmp #qsmp meta #qsmp admins #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp dapper #qsmp pomme #qsmp richarlyson #3am thoughts #late night trio #rhia rambles

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slttygeto · 2 months ago

Text

༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 06: temptation's tangle

preview: ". . . “What’s the occasion?” “Being hungry?” You glare at his sarcastic comment and Hanma shrugs his shoulders with an amused grin. “What? You don’t trust me?” “Exactly, I don’t.” “Well just to remind you, we agreed to be fuck buddies so–”

“For fuck’s sake–” . ."

content warning: suggestive content, abandonment issues, hanma is a d!ck but what's new.

word count: 5,4k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa @bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

➜ note: yet another chapter woohoo!! this one's a bit exciting for me because we get to see new characters appearing in the reader's life. and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

Saturdays were for resets. You didn’t like to go out that much during the weekends, so it was a hassle to reject your co-worker’s offer to go out for drinks the night after a long week of exhausting and intense work. You would much rather stay inside, go over your to-do list and look around your place to see which area needed the most cleaning. The kitchen was definitely a mess, but your room? Good lord. Your room looked as though a hurricane had passed and devoured it before spitting it out.

No matter how much you tried to be organized, you always found yourself with a mess on the floor, half of your makeup on your vanity and the other half in the bathroom along with a bunch of shoes lined up next to your entrance. You puff out some air as you stand in the middle of your room.

“I really need to get my shit together.” Have you said these words before? Absolutely.

Will you probably say them again in two weeks? Oh, of course.

But right now, you need a distraction from what happened two days ago–something that quiets down the voice that keeps nagging you to grab your phone and check if he sent a message, if something had changed. You recognized that you were being a walking contradiction–between promising yourself to be mad at him and loathing him only a week ago, to suddenly wishing he was in your bedroom, pinning you to your mattress and drilling his cock into you–yeah, you were a mess.

It’s not like you didn’t have a vibrator, or hands! Your hands did an amazing job at fulfilling your needs, you knew where to touch yourself, how to stroke your pussy in a way that had your back arching and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. A sigh would then escape your lips, a needy one because nothing felt as amazing as a mindblowing orgasm after teasing yourself for so long. Your hips would then buck up, and your hand is rubbing very messily at your poor clit before you cum with a loud and long moan–

“Shuji–!”

You snap out of it so fast, jolting up away from your bed and blinking at your reflection in the mirror.

What the fuck?

A grown ass woman–one who gets action…not that often, but still enough to fulfill her needs, daydreaming about a man whom she slept with once? It doesn’t make sense. Or maybe it does, you're too deep in denial to admit that the person you've been longing for is the same man who shaped parts of your teenage years, even if it was only for a short time.

The heavy sigh that leaves you is so loud that it bounces off the walls of your empty apartment. So vacant, but it reminds you how Hanma’s short yet dominating presence was enough to make it feel…less hollow. You hated how he filled the void that you had been long wanting to replace, whether it be by decorating your space with greenery or going on pottery dates with friends or even getting your cat more toys just to watch him run around the apartment–the loneliness was hard to swallow. You despised the feeling, it gripped you by the throat and forced you to remember the framed pictures sitting on the shelf above the TV. Friends, family, co-workers–you were made of pieces of them, each having given you a memory to cling onto and use it as a lifeline.

What do you do when that lifeline is barely hanging by a thread?

Your eyes land on the singular picture that rests on your nightstand, and your frown deepens for a moment as realization hits you. The two people in this picture were supposed to stay with you for a long time, your protectors as they liked to call themselves. You purse your lips and inhale deeply. The bitter aftertaste sitting on your tongue is hard to wash down.

You were perfectly fine being shaped by bits of everyone you'd ever met, but weren’t your brothers meant to be there for life?

“Here, keep this on you all the time.” You stare at the shiny knife as your oldest brother places it on your nightstand, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and you’re forced to close your book.

“A knife?”

“Yeah, it’s for your safety.”

“Ran, why would I need to carry a knife with me?”

“You never know,” you’re not sure if that’s meant to comfort you—probably not.

Ran Haitani is very proud of the fact that he had adopted you. Technically, his parents did–but he hated them, and they abandoned you a long time ago, so it was he who adopted you. He remembers you being a tiny baby in your mother’s arms the day that she had picked you up from the adoption center, said something about how she was so excited for this new chapter of her life, and both Ran and Rindou were excited–over the moon to be welcoming a little sister. At 6 and 5 years old, they didn’t know what blood related meant– it never mattered to them in the first place even as they got older. You were a Haitani, their precious little sister, and that meant the whole world to them.

However, the bond grew a little bit stronger after your parents left. Your father was the first to abandon the family, you were 5, Ran was 10 and Rindou’s 9th birthday was approaching. You remember it being a cold day–it wasn’t gloomy outside or anything, but as you sat in the middle of the living room with your brothers by your side, the apartment felt a bit bigger, emptier. A child is fragile, anything can affect them if not dealt with properly–the absence of your father was the first time you had to experience your ‘big feelings’ as Ran liked to describe them. You don’t know what holding back tears is, so you cry as you hug your knees to your chest and let Rindou soothe your back with a gentle hand. It’s a small gesture, but enough to anchor your stuttering breaths.

“It’s okay,” Rindou says as you sniffle. When you look at him, you see that his eyes are glossed over with something–tears. He blinks them away as soon as he catches you staring at him. “It’s not like we need him, right?”

“Of course not,” Ran speaks confidently, standing over you and Rindou with a superhero-like stance. “As long as you’ve got me, nothing will happen to you!”

“And me!” Upon seeing his older brother act like a superhero, Rindou quickly jumps up and stands next to him. It’s adorable, it gives you hope–your little child body, so overwhelmed with emotion and having to deal with the abandonment of a parent temporarily distracted by the two boys standing in front of you.

“I’m Sailor Uranus,” Ran extends one arm outward with his fingers splayed, while his other arm is bent at his side. He shares a look with Rindou, trying to mask his wobbling lips. Rindou averts his gaze, cheeks set ablaze with overwhelming emotion. Sadness, embarrassment mixed with determination to make you, his little sister, feel better even for a few moments.

“And I’m Sailor Neptune!” Rindou extends his arm forward, with his other hand pointing slightly upward towards you. Your heart swells with emotion, and you bring your arm to your face to wipe your tears.

“I..I’m Sailor Moon!” You join in weakly, and for a moment—(just a small one), everything seems okay. You have your brothers with you, recreating your favorite characters’ pose and trying to cheer you up. Just for a split second, you’re distracted from the ache that invades your heart and spreads all over your chest.

But distractions are bad. Like a bandage on a leaking dam, offering a false sense of control while the real flood builds behind them.

You had always looked up to your mother. It’s natural for a child to have an innocent fascination with one particular parent—after your father left, your mother had become everything to you. Now that you look back at it, it was definitely fear of being separated from her. Losing her so unexpectedly like you did with your father. You would sit in the living room waiting for her to come back from work, whilst Ran and Rindou were outside playing and didn’t necessarily mind the absence of their mother. They were older after all, and perhaps were able to see her for who she truly was earlier than you did.

“She’s not going to come back on time,” Ran announces from behind you. You don’t move, still looking out of the window and waiting for her silhouette to appear. “You have to eat.”

“No,” you don’t mean for your voice to crack, but alas you’re a child and you cannot control your emotions. You wear your heart on your sleeve and the hurt you’re feeling from your mother’s repetitive tardiness is very apparent. “I’m not hungry.”

As if to mock you, your stomach growls the moment you say it. And Ran sighs behind you before approaching you.

“No–” you push him away when he wraps his hand around your arm. “I won’t eat–!”

“Rindou hasn’t eaten all day,” Ran’s voice is stern. It momentarily distracts you from your stubbornness and your bottom lip starts wobbling. “He doesn’t want to eat without you—so please,” his voice is now barely above a whisper and your eyes meet his own lavender ones. The sob you choke out is raw, painful–you can’t hold it back any longer and you fall forward, attaching yourself onto your older brother. The taller boy holds you, rubbing soothing circles on your back as he heaves out a sigh.

No child deserves to go through this.

A few months later, you get accustomed to seeing your mother less often. By the age of 10, Ran and Rindou had managed to make a name for themselves around the area–the rulers of Roppongi. You choose to ignore the events that led them in juvenile detention, you don’t necessarily associate that with great memories but life feels… simple.

Whilst Ran brings the food and takes care of anything money related, Rindou is the one who is in tune with your emotional needs. He holds you in his arms when you are sad and caresses your head when you’re upset after a particularly nasty fight with Ran. Rindou reminds you of the importance of the rules that they had given you when they started ruling Roppongi, that the way you dress is very important as a Haitani—their little sister.

You carried that with you through adulthood.

The walls of your apartment have heard you cry for them, felt your sobs and longing. It’s strange how your apartment only knows of their existence through pictures, like ghosts they've never seen in person. Like hearing the echo of laughter in an empty room—faint and distant, yet it lingers, reminding you of the voices that once filled your childhood.

You are filled with sadness and melancholy and longing—you feel ready to burst like a heavy rain cloud but somehow, you find the strength to hold it all in whilst darkening everything beneath you. Whilst the past few years have been one of the most important ones in your life, you can't deny that with every person you encountered, the shell guarding your heart grew tougher. Like armor forged over time.

It’s useless to grieve the past, you can’t let it distract you from the task at hand, so you grab your vacuum cleaner and get to work.

Hopefully you’re done before sunset.

–

Ding dong

The digital clock on your microwave flashes 8:12PM in red, bold colors. You did your usual cleaning, showered and dried your hair, planned an outfit for Monday and were checking on some work you needed to do before the week starts. Who would visit you at this time of the day?

None of your co-workers had texted you all day, and you were hoping that they weren’t here to try to convince you to go out. Saying no to them the first time was hard as it is.

“Shoooo,” you tell your cat as he races you to the front door. “Go away, you can’t get out,” you mumble to your fur companion as you place him on his cat tree and watch as he digs his claws into the plush fabric before running away to your room.

Ding–ding ding ding!

“Coming! I’m coming,” you rush to unlock the door, forgetting to check through the peephole. As you open it, you get a whiff of a familiar perfume and a tall figure is standing a little too close to you.

“Wha–”

“I got dinner.”

Of course it would be him.

He stands before you in all his glory. Brand new suit, messy hair (he must’ve had a long day) and shoes that definitely looked less shinier than usual. You try not to stare too hard at his body, fight the carnal urge that tells you to keep your eyes a little longer on his thighs and lean against the door frame with your arms crossed over your chest.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Being hungry?” You glare at his sarcastic comment and Hanma shrugs his shoulders with an amused grin.

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“Exactly, I don’t.”

“Well just to remind you, we agreed to be fuck buddies so–”

“For fuck’s sake–” you yank him inside your apartment and Hanma almost lets out a giggle at how flustered you looked. “You need to stop saying shit like that in my hallway.”

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“People could hear you,” you shoot him a glare as you walk away from him. Hanma doesn’t miss the chance of checking out your ass in your tight booty shorts. He licks his lips and follows right behind you, plastic bags rustling as he places the food on the kitchen counter.

“What did you get anyway?” You ask as you sit back on the kitchen table, nose shoved deep in your laptop as you continue your work. You’re far too focused on the words in front of you to notice that Hanma had quieted down and was now fully staring at you–taking the sight of you and placing it at the forefront of his mind.

Despite having seen you naked before, Shuji thinks that you look the most attractive like this. Like the adult women that you matured into. He can’t remember the last time he saw you this concentrated—(was it when he snuck into your room as teenagers? He found you sitting at your desk, nose buried in your homework that you didn’t even notice him opening your window after he had climbed your fire escape). He can’t say he doesn’t like it. The smallest details stood out to the same man who claims to be nonchalant about everything else–the slight pout and frown to your lips, eyebrows furrowing and eyes darting across the screen, pausing briefly to take in each and every word. You wear glasses now.

(And glasses look good on you, they make your nose look cute).

A sigh escapes your lips and as you inhale, you finally catch his stare. Intense like a spotlight, analyzing your every move and pinning you in place.

For obvious reasons, you feel tense under the weight of his golden eyes fixed on you. Exposed, stripped of any secrets you hadn’t even dared to write down in your diary. Hanma’s eyes had the effect of unraveling every guarded truth, as if his intense gaze alone could coax confessions from the deepest corners of your soul.

Like how you touch yourself to the thought of him.

You avert your gaze towards the bag, growing uncomfortable with the suffocating silence.

“So?”

“Ramen.” You almost deadpan at the man. It’s fascinating how he can shift the tension in the room just by spilling out a few words.

“You bought ramen??”

“Am I not allowed to?” He pushes himself off of the kitchen counter and starts walking towards you.

“When you said I got dinner, I thought you meant a meal,” you take off your glasses and place them on the table before staring at the bag tiredly. “That’s an unhealthy meal, Hanma.”

“That’s what I get for dinner, usually.”

“You’ve got money.”

“Your point?”

“Go to restaurants??” you say in disbelief and Hanma shrugs his shoulders as he stands next to you, enjoying the obvious height difference. One that reminds him of how big his hands looked on your thighs that night.

“Tooooo much work,” he drags out his words before stretching his arms over his head. The action elicits a yawn out of his lips and you scoff before grabbing the bag and emptying its content on the table. “Besides, what’s so bad about having instant ramen?”

“It’s unhealthy,” you reply flatly, reaching for the electric kettle. You fill it up with water before pressing the ‘on’ button, the action coming to you so quickly and naturally that it makes Hanma raise an eyebrow.

“Hey, you turned it on a little too fast for someone who thinks instant ramen is unhealthy,”

“Because this is my kitchen?” The reply you give is laced with sarcasm, absolutely done with whatever he has to say and all Hanma does is just stand back and grin. How fun.

“Right, of course,” you avert your gaze the moment Hanma’s fingers wrap around his tie, loosening it to allow himself to breathe a little–feel comfortable in an apartment that has already welcomed him twice already. Does he remember the layout? Not exactly. However, his brain is able to trace the map from your kitchen to your bedroom like a professional cartographer. The detail was etched in their mind, like a name carved into stone.

So he makes himself comfortable, he walks past you and into the living room and you watch as he sits on your couch and stares around your decorated space.

“Is that a cat tree?” he points at the item sitting near the window.

“Mmmh,” you hum in response, pouring water into the instant ramen cups. “Why?”

“ ‘s just that I’ve never seen your cat,” he looks around, trying to figure out where your fur companion might be. “But I see signs of that fucker everywhere.”

“Don’t call my cat a fucker.” You almost hiss and it catches Hanma off guard. Not that it was the first time you ever spoke to him in that tone, but you must be very attached to your cat.

“Whew,” he whistles as he raises his arms in the air.. “My bad. Didn’t know you were that kind of person.”

Your eye twitches.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you pause on your way to the living room, the cups of ramen were starting to burn your hands but you could care less.

“Y’know, getting all defensive over an animal?”

“You mean have empathy and emotional connection?”

“Emotional connection with a cat?” Hanma braces himself forward with his elbows on his knees. His side profile comes into view, but he quickly turns to face you and he sees the way you were slowly losing your patience. “That shit is for people who are lonely.”

It is eerily silent after that. For a good five seconds, Hanma doesn’t seem to understand why you give no reply nor do you make a move. He looks away, pats his pocket to find his phone and turns to look at you. You are still glued to your spot.

You hope he doesn't hear the sound of your heart breaking, or notice the way your body instantly deflates.

“It must be.” Your reply is devoid of any emotion. You look away from Hanma’s intense gaze, suddenly growing uncomfortable under all of the attention he was giving you. As you take a seat on the couch (while maintaining a good distance between you and the tall man), you push Hanma’s cup towards him.

“Here.”

“Thank you.”

Hanma doesn’t feel comfortable with the silence. It bothers him that he doesn’t.

You try not to pay attention to him, but it turns out that it’s a hard task given how huge the man is. He spreads his legs on your couch, leaving you almost no space, so you have to nudge his thigh with your knee.

“Move, you’re taking up too much space.” You’re still avoiding his gaze, and Hanma’s finger twitches as he reaches for his ramen cup.

“I’m a tall man, doll.”

“Don’t care, you’re sitting on my couch.” You say it with a hint of childishness, your tone laced with annoyance.

Hanma chooses to let it slide and slightly closes his legs, allowing you more space on your small couch. However, your behavior still doesn’t sit right with him. You're not truly aware of your surroundings, even though it may seem like you are—one moment you’re holding your chopsticks, the next you’re looking for the remote control. Hanma watches as you jab at the noodles with your chopsticks, seemingly unfazed by the steam rising from the cup.

“It’s hot.”

Be careful.

“Ah!” you hold a hand to your mouth, your chopsticks falling on the surface of your coffee table. Your eyes are pricking with tears, and you fan your mouth whilst internally cursing yourself for not paying attention.

“Told you it’s hot,” he sounds unbothered—perhaps a little bored, but still reaches for your face to grab it. You don’t fight back despite the urge to get away from him—from his touch. His rough hand holds your jaw like a rag doll and you force yourself to open your eyes. “Open up.” He takes notice of your swollen lips, then you stick out your tongue and it’s reddened.

In that moment, you realize there's no space left between the two of you. Any distance you tried to maintain with the tall man has vanished, and you let it happen—you let yourself forget why you're mad at him, giving your mind a break from the constant tension around him.

Everything quiets down, you instantly find yourself lost in the same gaze you had been trying long and hard to avoid. You feel hot—you are sure Hanma’s body feels like a furnace against your skin. However, like two flames flickering inches apart, you both burn with the same heat but never quite touch in a way that would have you melting like a candle.

It’s a continuous tug of war inside your brain as you hold his gaze, your pulse quickening with each subconscious attempt at moving closer to him—even by an inch. Technically, the two of you were now fuckbuddies, two friends who fuck when the other is free or one is feeling like it. There were no strings attached, no responsibilities, no—

“Ya hungry?” Hanma’s voice is a few octaves deeper. You feel a chill run down your spine before making a poor attempt at shaking your head whilst he’s still holding your jaw.

You feel a pair of lips against yours, and you take it as a response to what you had told him.

Hanma’s kisses are rough—he pushes his entire body on top of yours as he kisses you, trapping you beneath him.

You’re glad the cushions beneath you are soft, because the way he pins you down is anything but.

Dominating and playful, he moves his lips against yours in such a dizzying manner that you have to tap his shoulder to ask him for air. But even when he pulls away from your lips to allow you oxygen, his lips land on another patch of skin—your cheek, your jaw, his teeth nibble at your earlobe and he can feel his cock throb when you buck up your hips.

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

He presses his forehead against yours and you grow annoyed. Frustration washes over you as you realize you crave more of him, even though you know you shouldn't allow the man so close or invade your personal space. Yet, here you are, yielding beneath him. His kisses are like a wildfire in your veins—once it ignites, it spreads uncontrollably, and no matter how dangerous, you can’t help but feed the flames.

And feed the flames, you do.

Hanma has never seen you so eager, so needy—sure he’s fucked you before, he’s nestled his cock so deep within the snug walls of your pussy but this–

This was different.

You’re craving him—his lips against yours like a lifeline. Not once has he seen your body move so desperately against his own whilst your clothes are still on. It makes the muscles of his face twitch.

Smirking, he grabs the back of your thigh and pushes it up to your chest before leaning down—face dangerously close to yours. He doesn’t say anything, eyes scanning your expression—the twitch to your lips, the slight furrow to your eyebrows and the sigh that escapes through your nose from how needy you are. You throw your head back against the couch, nudging Hanma’s butt with your free foot.

“You’re staring.”

“Am I?” His tone, his words—they make the butterflies in your stomach erupt like wildfire. You can only afford to whine in response, clearly struggling to take his teasing. He is so dominant— to the point where submitting to him was the only choice you had. As you lie beneath him, Hanma is like a cat playing with a string, effortlessly toying with your patience and leaving you both frustrated and horny.

Incredibly horny.

“Shuji,” you reach your hands towards his face, holding it and brushing your thumbs against his cheeks. You brush your nose against his, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip so softly—so gently that it makes him chuckle.

“You’re gentle with it,” he breathes hotly against your lips, digging his fingers into your skin to show you how rough he likes it. You’re about to push him off of you, straddle his lap and show him that you can be rough with it. It feels like a treat you’re craving, it’s attached to a string and Hanma keeps pulling it away from you every time you’re about to have it—

A loud moan escapes your lips when he’s back on you so suddenly, not giving you enough time to breathe or ground yourself. Gripping his shoulders, Hanma enjoys the feeling of your nails digging into his skin—it ignites his body on fire and heightens his senses. The tall man grows more aware of your body temperature, of the vanilla body lotion you had freshly applied onto your skin or how you seem to be letting your nails grow longer—he’s locked in.

“Oh doll,” he breathes out against your lips as he pulls away. You’re about to moan in response, rile him up further until he’s snatching your clothes off your skin and dig his cock deep into your insides–

“Fuck!” Hanma shouts–no, he screams out of nowhere and is pushing his body off of you. “What the fuck?!”

“What–what?! What’s wrong?” you’re confused, a little startled as you push yourself up with your elbows.

“Motherfucker–” you hear hissing from the end of the couch, and you look behind Hanma to find your cat sinking his claws into his back. “Let go of me!”

“Calm down!” you try to separate the two, get your cat off the couch and Hanma to stop reaching for the back of his blouse.

“How the fuck am I supposed to calm down when this little fucker–I will fucking–”

“I said calm down.” you repeat sternly. Your hands reach for your cat’s paws, although he hisses at you, you still understand that it’s a normal reaction for him. Standing up, you grab your fur companion who tries to wriggle out of your hold and he comes face to face with a furious Hanma.

Your cat hisses again.

“The fuck is his problem?”

“He’s not used to strangers,” you caress your pet’s head, sensing that he’s on high alert. “Let alone men.”

“Your cat hates men?”

Your face twists. “My cat isn’t a misandrist.” You roll your eyes at him. “He just… doesn’t appreciate men.”

“Fancy fucking word–”

“Anyway, I’m taking him to his room.”

“This fucker has a room?”

“Technically it’s my office.”

Hanma watches as you walk away with the fur companion who meows very loudly, making his dislike towards the man very clear. He hears you try to shush the pet, promise it good food and treats as long as he behaves and if Hanma didn’t know any better, he would think you were crazy.

Maybe you were. He would never show that much patience towards an animal.

But now he is able to process what has happened. Assessing the situation, the realization that he got cockblocked by a damn cat hits him like a truck and he sits there, dumbfounded and half offended.

Cockblocked by a fucking cat.

You walk back into the living room, looking a bit embarrassed and Hanma takes it that you had come to the same conclusion as him. You stand next to the couch, awkward and stiff and your hands are fiddling with the fabric of your shorts before you open your mouth.

“I-”

“Don’t even.”

Hearing his bored tone, you deflate and sigh before plopping next to him on the couch. You were now drier than the Sahara and he didn’t seem interested in rearranging your insides as he was a few moments ago.

Well, you still have your food to finish.

“Want me to heat up your food again?”

“Mmm, sure.”

—

Hanma plans to leave as soon as he’s done eating. It’s almost hilarious the way he grabs his jacket the moment he slurps the final noodle into his mouth and you don’t have it in you to ask him where he’s going.

After all, it wasn’t part of your agreement. Despite the fact that you didn’t even fuck properly tonight, you still knew that his business wasn’t yours to know and his presence was always going to be temporary.

“The elevator’s working by the way,” you are throwing the cups of Ramen in the trash when you suddenly speak up and Hanma has to pause his movements.

“They fixed it?”

“After paying a huge sum of money, yeah they did.”

“That’s good.”

“Mmmhm.” Cold and distant, this is how you want to present yourself to the same man who has no problem taking your heart in his hands and shattering it into small pieces.

“Next time I come over, I hope that fucker doesn’t dig his nails into my ass next.” Next time.

“I’ll make sure we fuck on my bed then.” You say playfully, bringing the glass of water to your lips and Hanma watches as you maintain eye contact the whole time.

“Oh yeah? Already planning the next time we gonna fuck?”

You shrug your shoulders. “You were good. I’d be a fool if I said I didn’t want it again.”

Hanma chuckles, offering his signature smirk with a tilt to his head. “Good? Not great, or fucking amazing?”

“Good.” You put emphasis on the word, but the tall man notices how you avoid his eyes and it’s an indirect confession.

“Sounds like you want me to change your mind.” Squeezing your thighs at the sound of his deep voice, you almost moan in relief when you see him start to take off his jacket.

Fucking finally.

“Maybe I do.”

—

The November cold was unbearable. The man shivers inside his own car and his hand reaches towards the heater to turn it on. He doesn’t understand why he is here, it was too late for him to be parked under a residential building and he sure hopes he doesn’t look suspicious with the way he keeps checking for the door.

“Come on, come on…”

Almost on cue, the door opens and a tall figure walks out. Hair messed up, clothes half adjusted and a cigarette hanging off his lips. It was none other than Hanma Shuji. The man watches as the criminal checks his phone for a good ten seconds before blowing out smoke, his chest stutters a bit as he scoffs and he shoves the device into his pocket before walking towards his car.

Hanma doesn’t seem to notice the unknown car and the mysterious man is grateful for that. He wants to avoid problems.

However, how was he going to explain his sudden visit at 11:30PM?

He shouldn’t…or perhaps he should.

When you open the door, your eyes are heavy with sleep and the man can’t help but stare at the love bites littering your neck.

“Hey, missed me?”

Your eyes widen and you instinctively open the door wider.

“Chifuyu.”

༉‧₊˚. interested in commissioning me? if not, leave a ko-fi!

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

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sea-of-dust · 9 months ago

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MAKOTO YUKI x GN! Reader

Summary: Dating headcannons

N: I had this just rotting bro posting this with the event. Ik u don't read these angst jumpscare. Also DO NOT listen to Malice Mizer OR SWEET (p5) while reading fanfic or headcannons for this guy you'll cry 7 times

Hm? Is something your gonna hear alot. He notices everything. Sometimes he purposely doesn't push you to tell him, other times he's told by Yukari.

He knows when your troubled, you can tell when he knows what's going on as he tends to get a bit closer before going "hm?" You notice when he's trying to comfort you. Trying to be sneaky just makes it more obvious, it's even more odvious when he sneaks snacks to you near your door, like he isn't the first suspect.

"?" He lays his head on your shoulder slowly inching closer. "You look like you're fuming. Did something happen?" "Nothing much just a headache" "I see" you never feel his arms wrapped around while you as you stood next to him, soft hums comming from him.

Makoto tries to hide his affections in public. Limiting it to hand holding or subtle matching things you both had on your person. The fewer people the higher the chance of him taking a small snooze on your shoulder, you end up giving him piggybacks when he does this.

He let's you listen to music with him. At the cost of a small tease. "I wanna listen aswell..." You look away clearly flustered to ask this "and why would my dove want that?" "HUH" you look at him wide eyed seeing him smirk "BRO" "? I thought I was your boyfriend" and back to the straight faced s.e.e.s boy. This was his way of flustering you, calling you a random nickname and then acting like nothing happened, you always reset back to bro when he does this making it even better for him.

He wanders...alot. This guy would get lost in a supermarket and be like "oh I lost them..." and then find you calmly while you'd just panic about where he was. He always appears from nowhere when this happens. "I've looked everywhere jimpei I'm considering going into the fountain..." "you walk so fast" he burries himself into the nape of your neck, "I almost lost you again" you were so lucky jimpei was on the phone and not in person or you two would have never stopped getting teased when you got to school

If you ever wondered about s.e.e.s or ever wondered why he was always so tired, he'd act like he didn't hear you. "So what's s.e.e.s, heard it had something to do with some sorta time thing?" He'd be right next to you. You saw him peak up and just go back to staring into the void seconds later. "I know you heard me" you furrow your brows slightly but he just lays there for a bit moves his hair and then goes "huh?" "UGHHH" you're not getting him to budge

That would be the case if you didn't have a persona he'd still try to pretend he didn't know until you saved him from a few shadows. "How did you get knocked down by wind of all things imagine I blow and you and you get stunned" your persona deals with them easily while you help him up. "So what is this place my princess, my shawty bae, my-" "please...shut up" "nah baby girl you brought this on yourself" he sighs but he did enjoy the free piggy back ride so he pretended the wind hit him THAT hard.

"You're still carrying him around" Yukari cringes "he can barely keep his eyes open tho" "oh he'll live watch this" Yukari turns around "we're gonna go get a sna-" "don't say it infront of jimpei unspelled" he groans nuzzling back into your neck "told ya, get him off your back" easier said than done the guys like those theme park bracelets you'll never get him off. "Yukari let go of me" his voice a bit annoyed "no chance! Come on you gotta walk like the rest of us think of y/ns back!" You got him to walk...but he had to hold your hand and would almost drift off again if you haven't move away everytime you noticed. "Please try to stay awake were almost done" "...." You catch his head "don't lean on me, how about this you can rest once we get back to my room" he suddenly has enough energy to walk without leaning on you.

He loves whenever he goes to your dorm. It always feels so calm in there like some sorta checkpoint. Sometimes he gets there before you already laying there like it was his own room. "Welcome home" "oh minato- wait...howed you get in" "you left the door unlocked" "oh" he tries to use the 'just wanted to study with you excuse' nah the dudes there for every kind of sfw romantic thing you can think of. He's there to be called lover boy unironcally! "Funny how you aren't as sleepy during the night" you move closer to him "you're nocturnal" you joke playfully giving him a small kiss on the cheek. In actuality he had eaten a bunch of candy so he could stay awake with you.

Take him with you everywhere!! If you'd e-mail him about anything related to heading out you don't even have to invite him he'd just magically appear. You don't even have to say WHERE you're going. "How do you always know where I am?" "This place is small"

He'd know what your into without you telling him almost sniffing it out. "I thought you'd like this" he hands you a small gift watching you blush immensely. "Howed you know I liked this kinda stuff" "I figure stuff out quickly" he did have hints though. The way you acted the way you looked at things simular to it. it made it odvious you'd like one of those.

He hides when he's sick always trying to hold back coughs or sneezes he suffers in silence and would prefer it that way. Why? Because the first time he was sick infront of you or anyone else no one wanted to be around him incase it spread. You were willing to of course until Mitsuru put a ban on seeing him for the sake of everyone's health, you still got tests to deal with ya know! So now he just hides it trying to recover quickly. Can't say the same for you though "cough cough! Ah sorry I've had a really bad cold lately" all he needed to hear to have you carried back to your dorm after school. "When we're you able to manhandle me" "please take this" he hands you a small medicine cap expecting you to drink it from there. "It's just a cold" "colds don't have you coughing yourself into orbit for it to just be a casual one" sighing you gulp it down

He'll pretend to not know how to put on his ribbon and ask if you're able to help him. Then turn around pull it off and look at you with a "can you do it again" face. He just likes the way you tie it while you're on the train with him.

Fastest Emailer EVER. You'd think it would take him litteral years since he sometimes leaves people out to dry, according to jinpei, and then he'd respond at the speed of sound to you nearly as fast as the email sends.

You try to pitch his cheeks only to get him to revert to an angry cat. So you've resorted to softer smaller pinches, he dosent mind as much now just don't too it too often or he'll start pinching you too

He may like using yarn with you. Depends on how easy it is though. "What are you making?" "A heart bracelet a girl asked me to make for her and her boyfriend" he reaches for your hand "do you mind if I try this?" "Sure it's in the left drawer" he could barely make the heart at first but as soon as you got a clipboard involved it was a whole diffent story, he was a machine, you didn't know this at the time but you definitely accidently made a yarn bracelet monster. Must have found out they can be made into sp items. That's why there's a lock on the left drawer now, he never opened it without asking its just to keep him from getting ideas, it does the opposite

He has his flirtatious momments, mostly just because he wants to tease you. It starts with a perfectly silent momment, in the classroom when they finally let you sit with him, nearly asleep in a library, on very rare occasions tartarus, he'd smirk and then lock in for the absolute chaos he's about to cause. A simple lean into your ear whispering softly yet clearly "I want a kiss" your eyes would always widen but you'd also respond with a whisper back "now?" Clearly slightly baffled you kiss him on the cheek quickly. Oh but sometimes that isn't enough, sometimes he just wants to see you melt, rubbing his hand on your already flushed cheek he leans in drowsy eyes meeting yours "I want a bit more please" he does enjoy you cupping his face and kissing him. When he does stuff like that you thank the lord the sees memmbers split up or you two are pretty much alone together.

There are times he's tempted to kiss you and then act like he didn't do anything. Cheeks are his favorite you can barely see him comming,*chu*, and now he gets to tease you make you think he never did such a thing "stop kissing me while i study" "wadya mean" "you gotta study focus on that" "i wanna focus on you more" "huh?" Another quick kiss "you did it again" "i dunno what youre talking about" exhaling you kiss him under the eye "lets get back to studying before it gets too late" and then hed lean onto your shoulder. He wants you to catch him more often

"I bought a camera! Let's take a few snaps, just the two of us!, "I don't see why not" holding the camrea steady, you take a picture of the shell he found. *SNAP* a picture of him looking out on the beach. *SNAP* "Why are you taking so many of me?" "I want you to last forever" putting the camrea down and walking toward him, he reaches his hand out. "Oh sure" you give it to him and he holds it up, making sure you're both in frame. *SNAP* a picture with both of you smiling as the sun sets on the beach. Softly looking at your features, his eyes land on ur lips, then cheek, eyes, then back to your cheek again. Smiling to himself, he holds it up again "you mind if we take another?" "Alright" *SNAP* soft lips press your cheek the momment the camera flashes. "You mind if I get another, the picture might be a bit blurry" with a rare smile on his face he pockets the picture. You covering the cheek he had just kissed. "Sure..." still surprised you lean into him smiling as the shyness gets to you. *SNAP* another kiss, happy with the photo he turns to you. "Do you have any plans after this?" "No it's straight to the dorm for me" "perfect" "?"

As you two walk home after changing clothes, he seemed to be more bright than usual as you wondered why, you were happy you got to see him smile like that. "I have something for you" "really? Me too!" "I'll meet you in your room then" hugging you before he leaves to his room to pick up your gift you collect what you had gotten for him, a DVD, a small bag with candies, and a rare jack frost you had won that you've customized to look like him. As soon as he opens the door you try to hide your gifts behind your back. "I can see them" "No you cant" softly giggling to himself he closed the door and gave you a case with a small bag with it. "Well since you've already seen then" you slide over the minato frost with the other things on its lap. "I saw someone do it on the internet and wanted to make one of you..." averting his eyes afraid he may not like it. He grabs its hands, then it's crocheted hair "it looks just like me" he pulls its cheeks. "And this is what I got for you" giving you the case and small bag. You decide to open the case first. Inside was a pair of headphones and a music player the same model as his. "How'd you know I wanted one?" "You eye mine alot, so I just figured" without much thought, you kissed his cheek "I don't know if I could put into words how thankful I am" You kiss him again. Excitedly, you open the small bag, revealing a bunch of stickers. "I wanted to decorate this with you if you don't mind" "I don't see why not" you excitedly put the sticker on his face then the case almost 5 stickers later his face again. "You look so cute with them all over you" "right back at you" giggling at his joke, you cover the player carefully in stickers with him. He even showed you how he put his music onto them.

Eventually what nearly always happens when he's in your room happens, his soft eyes flutter shut while laying on your bed the frost that looks just like him in hand. *SNAP* *SNAP* the opportunity was just too good to pass up, one for you and one for him to wake up to. You lay next to him moving his hair as to see both eyes. "Sweet dreams" your eyes grow heavy as they close. Days were sweet after that though you did notice him being a bit more busy, you didn't even notice when January ended, and he was nowhere to be seen. You asked most of the people you knew that spoke to him but they just ended up near teary eyed or near unable to say a word about it. "He's in a coma" Jinpei finally is able to croak out, "we don't know what happened to him" you feel your heart drop at his words, near running to the hospital after school and laying by his side. He looked so peaceful, you'd wonder what he was experiencing. Holding his hand for what seemed like it could be the final time you left, it felt a bit scary walking home without him with you.

You put on the music player he gave you, all covered in stickers he helped you put on. "Burn my dread...full moon full life...memmories of-" you hault finding yourself at the dorm, you go in, putting your hands in your pocket, reminding you of him, accidently touching his spare key he gave you, your mind suddenly asked you to go into his room. It felt like snooping, but the thought just wouldn't let you go. Opening the door, you find something on his desk, a letter along with a few pictures. "I may have forgotten to ask someone to give this to you, but I hope it someday reaches you, I'm writing this just in case something bad happens to me, I'm gonna miss seeing you when I wake up and waking up before you. All those candies I ate from you because I wanted to stay up late, all the times I've gotten free piggyback rides around town. I'm gonna miss you above all. I'm sorry I took your camera" getting to that part you look at the pictures on the desk one of him sleeping with the frost you made him, one of you trying on his sees uniform. "To be fair you already seen most of them, I just thought that if anything happened you'd want some of me" scattering them multiple pictures of him trying on your accessories, pictures of him smiling widely at your favorite places, pictures of him trying diffrent hairstyles. "I've bought a replacement film in advance, if you need to you can take my jacket and the mako-frost. They'll keep you warm" You look at more pictures, pictures of you and him, the kiss at the beach, you napping on him, a picture of you crocheting. "If push comes to shove, don't forget about me, keep living on, Makoto ps: thanks for letting me get this close to you"

#persona 3 #minato arisato #makoto yuki #gender neutral reader #fluff #headcannons #persona #persona 3 reload #angst #p3 x reader #p3 protagonist #p3 protag x reader #makoto yuki x reader #x reader #minato arisato x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

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The Rebound 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Curtis Everett

Summary: after a divorce, you try to start over.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You take a new path. You tell yourself it's to mix it up, to be a hit more spontaneous. You're downfall had come from being a creature of habit.

So instead of north, you go south, away from the river and towards the ravine where trees slant and the land turns bumpy and peaty. You stop at the edge and peer down at the steep incline. You breathe in the slightly damp air, the night's rain still wet on the grass and bark.

You're hypnotised by the lightheadedness caused by the drop. You slowly back up and walk along the border. You couldn't make the hike down though you've seen teens hanging around there. You press on, walking over even ground.

A sudden snap has you on high alert. You look over your shoulder. You try not to think of Curtis, try not to assume or expect. You don't want to make a big deal of nothing. Lee always said you were good at that, where he did the opposite.

There's no one there but you feel something beneath your foot. You look down. A snare. You've walked straight into a rabbit trap. Is it his? You wish you knew how reset it. Instead you'll have to leave his hard work spoiled.

You make your way back to the road and follow it to your sister's house. He lingers in the back of your mind. You haven't seen him at the library. It's been weeks. You shouldn't care so much. You don't.

He came when you weren't there. You know that. You saw his book in returns. Is he avoiding you? Were you that awkward? No, it's just Curtis. He avoids everyone. He's smart. Hammer Ford does not inspire trust.

You enter the house, kicking the dirt off your shoes before you break the threshold. You leave the sneakers on the mat as you hear your sister with the kids. You look in on them and she gives you a sharp look as you offer a small wave. You cringe and go to the kitchen to get water.

You hear the Bluey song play and your sister appears as you chug down a tall glass. You pull your lips of the brim and wipe the dribble down your chin. She looks tired. Kids do that to ya.

"You've lost weight," Katie says.

You should be proud for her noticing but even after two births, she's effortlessly petite. You nod, "yeah."

"Great, and... how about a place? You found one yet?"

She's never been particularly tactful. She gets that from your mother. Maybe that's why she's the favourite.

"Looking," you assure her, "I have enough for a deposit now but not much around here."

She nods and opens the fridge. She takes out two of the drinkable yogurts for the kids. You drink nervously.

"I heard about him. Lee," she says as she stands on the other side of the island, "he's with some young one now."

"Oh."

"Good riddance," she sneers, "I never liked him. Never mentioned it but one time at Christmas... well, he made a suggestion."

You frown. Why is she telling you this? It doesn't make you feel better.

"Oh, I'm... sorry he did that."

"We all tried to warn you," she shrugs.

You finish your water and rinse the glass. It's easier than pointing out she was still a teen when you got engaged. Whatever.

"Mom's coming for dinner tonight."

You pause before you can set the glass in the rack. Great. Another judgement to come.

"She wants you there too."

"Okay," you don't argue. Twenty years of it with Lee, you don't need to keep it up.

"Right, well, I gotta go look after the kids. Life, you know."

She leaves and you put the glass down. You blink back her underhanded jab. You don't have kids or a husband or even a house. Look at her, taking in her tragic sister. How fucking merciful.

🌲

Your mother barely acknowledges you when she gets there. She’s too caught up in her favourite and her grandchildren. You’re fine with it; used to it. You’re far enough in life that you know it isn’t worth it to try or care. Same as with your husband. Ex now. Officially.

Finally, after the last months of struggling, you have some good news. The email was both a relief and a final punctuation. Now you can move on, just like Lee.

You sit at the table. You have your chicken breast, a thoughtful portion of rice, and lots of green beans. You’re life might not be any more balanced but your meals are.

As your mom finishes her preening and cooing over the messy toddler beside her, she turns to you. You know by the glint in her eye, it won’t be any different than your last conversation. Or any over the last how many decades.

“How nice it is of Katie to take you in,” she chimes.

“Yeah, very nice,” you gulp, “um, but not for much longer. Divorce is final. Lawyer’s fees will come off the alimony. Which I’m getting.”

It feels nice to say it out loud. Hearing it come out of your own mouth makes it real. Makes it true.

“When did you find this out?” Your sister chirps.

“Couple hours ago.”

“Wow,” both your mother and sister utter.

“That’s great news,” your mother grins, “but you’re still divorced and childless. You don’t have much time left on the clock.”

You look at your plate. For every win, they find a loss. Yes, that’s true, but you don’t want kids and after your marriage, you want a husband even less. One is just fine.

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #drabble #series #au #backwoods #snowpiercer #the rebound

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kiwioala · 1 year ago

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since early day lore keeps being referenced, here are some good early qsmp lore vods to watch if you're ever curious about what all went down:

any day 1 pov: really good introductory content (obviously), even for the lore. there’s a lot of cutscenes from that specific day iirc as well which i always think are beneficial to watch! also everyone’s first reactions to cucurucho/osito bimbo are fucking hilarious

roier, day 4: explains his and osito bimbo’s dynamic, they spend a large part of the day together.

roier, day 5: the betrayal the day of spreens betrayal, self explanatory. this is also the day we get the book from osito bimbo where it calls roier "0037"

any day 7 pov: egg's introduction morse code transmission about an “experiment,” the day the original eggs got adopted, shows how the attitude toward the eggs has changed since then, possibly could help explain some of the family dynamics?? at least how they function and treat the kids

roier, day 10: osito bimbo makes it's return but now it's different, (sort of) the day cucurucho officially takes osito bimbo's place

slime or roier, day 16: tilin's death the day of tilin's death, ultimately had a lot of impacts on various characters on the island like slime, roier, and quackity, for example.

slime, day 20: avenging juanaflippa slime tries to get flippa another chance at life by forcing a reset of all the eggs lives, meaning he goes after and targets the other player's eggs.

day 21: "save the baby" quest aka the first egg kidnapping/disappearance (continued in day 22 due to server maintenance). a rescue mission given to the islanders via egg tasks to go retrieve their eggs!

day 22 (slime, mariana, roier, bbh, quackity, foolish, jaiden, philza): juanaflippa's custody trial and revival really fucking funny but also a part of the servers history that i feel like got brushed over too fast. confirms the federation can give extra lives to the eggs if they are so willing and some other stuff.

luzu, day 24: final (physical) arin appearance explains why arin was there, what his purpose is, and how the codes are related to him. can also been seen in foolish and bbh's vod from this day.

foolish, day 26: introduction to leo’s “friends” and a few island entities, the founding of the theory bros (now ordo theoritas) which can also be seen in max and bad’s pov that day!

day 27: the funeral a funeral is held for all the dead eggs (trump, tilin, and flippa) and i believe it's the first time the federation allows parents to talk to their children after their death. for this day, most pov's do go to the funeral service, but only parents of the dead eggs (quackity, slime, mariana, and maxo) get to see their children.

anyones pov, day 34: “the countdown begins, 6 days left.” codes intercept the ducks transmission (again?) and alert the parents that the eggs will die/disappear in 6 days. we know now this obviously isn't true but still a lore-ish day

roier, day 34: even more osito bimbo content! the day when osito bimbo tells roier more about the federation, such as the existence of the "host" and how it has a specific set of duties it must follow/complete.

quackity, day 36: quackitys interrogation & las casualonas debut disguised, roier and vegetta interrogate quackity about his plans regarding the eggs (which iirc was a rumor started by roier saying he was going to murder them) and the island.

maxo, day 50: sofias creator visits maxo important for current lore seeing as the person who gave him said instructions is now known to be a part of the revolution etoiles was recruited into.

#qsmp #qsmp lore #qsmp recap #? i guess #most of these r roier or slime they carried early-day lore #feel free to add any other vods/clips u think r important im sure im missing some

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connorsnothereeither · 6 months ago

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are there any details about Kyr and his story that you haven’t been able to talk about yet? He’s such a neat character I want to know more about him :D

I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT KYR

Mostly his part after appearing in Ulysses’ finale. Kyr was designed as a group effort between Heyhay, Ocie, Metta and I as a one off character to be a through-line in the Cydonia stream, that we could follow between temples, so his story in the temples is very much collaborative and intentionally vague, up until the point of being sent to find Ulysses.

I think Kyr tried to come back to the temple after he couldn’t find Ulysses, and found it after everyone had been murdered by the facility guards. When the resets happened and his memories started to erode as Fable messed with history, his main memory was of searching for Ulysses, and that occupied most of his time in the resets. I like to think he was maybe tracing Ulysses movements, and interviewing/threatening the crews he worked with for information.

Post-finding Ulysses, I think they became very close. He became somewhat of a nephew to Ulysses, and I think he accompanied Ulysses on a lot of his journeys, which is how they ended up finding other Telchin.

Specifically, he found his future wife, too. The blue and green Telchin he’s waving to in the photo in Ulysses epilogue. Her name is Penelope (she/they), and they fell in love slowly, as they helped to build the permanent town which would become the Telchin Settlement. She’s a healer, focusing on medicine and alchemy. And together they are the parents of the first Telchin child born post-war! Edaline Circe Cydonia (named after both of their mothers). I think Edaline (or Eda) is probably a year or two younger than Vaeh, timeline wise.

Kyr lives in the Telchin Settlement (wherever that is) for the most part, but makes regular trips to visit Ulysses back in Lodestar Grove (when Ulysses is actually there). I think his penchant for telling stories isn’t quite as good, but he has an excellent memory. Which also extents to muscle-memory. He’s an incredible fighter, particularly in short-distance ranged combat (throwing tridents, and archery specifically) and an extremely competent swimmer.

Post-Ulysses’ death, I think Kyr does his best to keep his memory alive. I think maybe even with Rae’s help, he sets up and exhibition piece to him, in the museum, so that future generations can learn about the work he did. And I think he and his family take regular trips to Elysium to visit Ulysses, and Kyr’s mother too. I think she’d be very proud of all her son was able to accomplish, after escaping the temple.

#fable smp #fablesmp #fablesmp ulysses

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earthtoharlow · 4 months ago

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Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

Series Masterlist

9. Safe & Sound

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound.

After Vegas they immediately went back home to Kentucky and CoCo, Maryse’s manager, was going to meet them there to discuss getting more security.

“I think it’s best if we get you some additional security,” CoCo said, looking concerned. “Especially with your fame rising and everything that’s happened.”

Maryse nodded, though she felt a pang of frustration. “I understand. I just hate feeling like I need a bodyguard 24/7.”

Jack reached out to squeeze her hand. “It’s just to be safe, baby. We both want you to be okay.”

“I know,” she sighed. “It’s just…a lot.”

“And another thing,” Jack began cautiously, knowing she wasn’t going to like this. “I think it might be a good idea to push back some of your upcoming events. Just until things calm down a bit.”

Maryse looked at him, her eyes widening in surprise and irritation. “You want me to delay promoting my new single and album?”

“It’s just for your safety,” he insisted. “With everything going on, I think it’s the best move right now.”

She shook her head, her frustration bubbling over. “I’ve worked so hard on this album. I don’t want to push it back. I can’t keep letting fear control my life.”

“I get that,” he said, trying to stay calm. “But your safety is more important than any album.”

CoCo could see things were about to get heated and chimed in, “We can find a middle ground here. Maybe scale back on some appearances but keep the most important ones?”

Maryse crossed her arms, her jaw set. “I don’t want to scale back anything. I appreciate the concern, but I need to move forward. I won’t let one fan dictate my career.”

Jack sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“I know this is your reset year, but it’s not mine.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she instantly regretted it.

Jack’s expression immediately hardened, a mix of hurt and frustration crossing his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain without making things worse. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…you’ve been able to take some time for yourself, to regroup. But I’ve been pushing so hard with this album. I can’t afford to slow down now.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “I get that you’re driven, and I love that about you. I just want what’s best for you and your protection.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” she said, her voice softening. “I didn’t mean to downplay what you’re doing. I appreciate your concern, really. I’ll take the extra security, but I’m not delaying anything.”

There was a tense silence before CoCo nodded. “Okay, we’ll make sure you have the best security detail. But please, be extra cautious.”

“I’ll be right back.” Jack said, not waiting for them to say anything before leaving the room. He walked inside his office, shutting the door behind him. The weight of the conversation pressing down on his shoulders. He sank into his chair and buried his face in his hands, feeling frustrated and helpless.

Jack hated that Maryse was going through this. He could already feel the anxiety creeping in, the urge to be by her side at every moment growing stronger. But he knew it wasn’t possible. They both had demanding schedules, careers that required them to be in different places at times.

Still, the thought of not being able to protect her when she needed it most was almost unbearable. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He understood why Maryse didn’t want to push back her album and upcoming events—her career was on fire, and she was determined to ride that wave.

The thought of her safety overshadowed everything else, and he wished she could see that. But he also knew how much her music meant to her and how hard she had worked to get to this point. He couldn’t stand in the way of that, even if it meant he had to deal with his own fears.

As Jack continued grappling with his thoughts, he heard the soft padding of footsteps approaching. He looked up just as Maryse entered the room. She paused in the doorway, he could tell she had been crying.

Without a word, Maryse crossed the room and climbed into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her instinctively, holding her close. She buried her face in his neck, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her cheek.

“I’m scared,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “And it’s okay that you’re scared too.”

He tightened his hold on her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I just want to protect you,” he said softly. “I hate feeling like I can’t.”

Maryse pulled back slightly to look at him, her eyes searching for his. “We can’t control everything, but we’ll figure it out. Like we always do.”

Jack nodded, the tension in his shoulders leaving his body for the first time since Vegas. “You’re right. We will.”

She smiled faintly and cupped his face in her hands. “And I know this is hard, but we have each other. That’s what matters most.”

He leaned in, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. “I love you,” he murmured against her mouth.

“I love you too,” she replied, resting her forehead against his. “We’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.”

Maryse took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. “And I’m really sorry about what I said earlier. I know this is hard for both of us, and I didn’t mean to make it sound like your feelings don’t matter.”

Jack rubbed her back gently, shaking his head. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it like that. We’re both under a lot of stress right now.”

She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’m just so thankful for you. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you by my side through this.”

“And I’m thankful to have you,” he said, holding her tightly. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out. Cause I’m not going anywhere.”

***

Jack stood at the doorway of their shared bedroom with his arms crossed as he watched Maryse pack her suitcase.

“Do you really have to go?” he asked, with concern.

Maryse looked up from her suitcase and gave Jack a small smile. “Yes, besides it’s too late to back out now. I’ve already made this commitment.”

“I know, but…” Jack trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “I just don’t like the idea of you being away right now, especially after everything that’s happened.”

She walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’ll be careful, I promise. And I’ll have extra security with me.”

He sighed, pulling her closer. “I just wish I could be there with you.”

“I know,” she said softly, resting her head against his chest. “But you have your own commitments as well.

He held her for a long moment, the steady rhythm of their breathing syncing up. “I hate that you’re going through this,” he murmured.

“You protect me by being here for me,” Maryse replied, looking up at him. “And knowing you’re always in my corner means more than anything.”

Jack kissed the top of her head, then tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. “Just promise me you’ll be extra careful.”

“I promise,” she said, her eyes shining with determination. “And I’ll call you every chance I get.”

“Good,” he said, his voice softening. “Because I’m going to miss you like crazy.”

Maryse wrinkled her nose at him. “What else is new?” Jack, who still had his arms around her, quickly gave her butt a squeeze in response, making her jump.

“HEY!”

Jack rolled his eyes then pouted. “Say it back.”

She smiled and leaned in for a kiss. “I’ll miss you too. I’ll only be gone for about a week and a half.”

He groaned dramatically, holding her closer as Maryse tried to pull away. “Just make sure you come back to me in one piece.”

“I will,” she assured him. “Now, help me finish packing. I want to make sure I don’t forget anything.”

Jack reluctantly helped her with her suitcase, folding clothes and tucking them neatly inside. As they worked, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his chest, but he knew he had to trust her.

***

Maryse stood in front of the microphone with her guitar around her neck, about to perform one of her favorites as well as her fans favorite song of hers “Every Kind of Way.”

“How are you guys doing tonight?!” Maryse asked into the microphone. She smiled as the crowd cheered loudly.

“Now this next song I’m about to play is one of my favorites. It’s actually about one of my favorite people in the world. I won’t say names but you guys might know him.” She laughed when she heard the crowd start to shout Jack’s name. As she was about to give her band the signal to start playing, a commotion near the front of the stage caught her attention.

Before Maryse could process what was happening a fan had jumped on stage and began shouting towards her. “I love you! You’re the love of my life! You need to leave Jack and be with me!”

Maryse immediately started panicking as the fan advanced towards her. Her bodyguards were quick, though, swarming the stage and tackling the fan before he could get too close. The crowd suddenly became very quiet, the air thick with tension.

One bodyguard stood in front of Maryse to protect her as the fan continued to shout as he was dragged off the stage, his voice echoing through the quiet arena. “You’re mine! You’ll be with me no matter what!”

Maryse took a step back, her microphone trembling in her hand. She looked out into the audience, seeing a concern and confusion on the faces of her fans. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady herself.

“I’m so sorry about that,” she said into the microphone, her voice wavering slightly. “Let’s take a short break, and we’ll be right back.”

She hurried off stage, her body trembling with adrenaline. CoCo and the venue’s security team were already waiting for her backstage, their faces serious.

“Are you okay?” CoCo asked, immediately pulling her into a hug.

Maryse nodded, though she could feel the tears threatening to spill. “Yeah, I think so. Just…shaken up.”

“We’ll increase security for the rest of your shows,” she assured her. “And we’ll make sure that asshole is dealt with.”

She nodded again before pulling away, her mind racing. “Jack. I need to call Jack.”

In the dressing room, she pulled out her phone immediately and called Jack, her hands still shaking. He answered on the first ring.

“Babe? What’s wrong?” His voice was filled with worry, knowing she should be performing right now.

“Someone…someone jumped on stage. He was shouting that he loves me and that I should leave you. It was that same fan from the mall and Vegas.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, and she could hear Jack’s breathing quicken. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No, the bodyguards got to him before he could touch me,” she said quickly. “But it was scary. He was so…intense.”

Jack’s tone became more urgent. “Listen, I’m sending my jet to come get you. I need you to come to Denver. I can’t stand the thought of you being alone right now.”

Maryse tried to protest, her voice weak. “But I have shows, and the fans—”

“Damn it, Maryse, think about yourself for once!” he interrupted, frustration and worry lacing his words. “I don’t care about those shows right now. I need my girl in front of me. Please, just come to Denver.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. She knew he was right, but the weight of canceling her commitments pressed heavily on her. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll come.”

Jack’s voice softened. “Thank you. Just get here safely. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied, hanging up and taking a deep breath. Maryse curled into ball on the couch and finally let the tears that were threatening to fall out.

***

An: poor maryse :((

Tag List

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@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @toocriticalharlow @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @w1ldthoughts @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @halfmoondaze @babybardi2 @daphnescorner @angelluv444 @coquette-harlow @wabi-sabi1090

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow angst #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow x oc #flashing lights

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thewellwithnobottom · 4 months ago

Text

I Think He Knows

Author’s Note: Remember when Sam got locked in his coffin on set? This fic asks- what if it was both of them? 😉

Enjoy!

A one-shot for now, unless people really like it. Then I may have a few more chapters up my sleeve…

⚜️ The lid closes on the vampires’ cuddle session and someone yells, “Cut! That was great. Everyone take five and we’ll go again.” Sam and Jacob just smile at each other in the dimly lit coffin. They make no effort to move. They’re used to this by now and usually just chat during these small breaks, until the scene is reset. This time, they giggle about how Jacob’s sleeve got caught on the latch as he was closing the lid and almost messed up the take.

“It’s not my fault, this fabric snags on everything!” Sam is delighted, as he often is, listening to Jacob talk. There is something so different about him. He just exudes an energy that Sam finds electrifying. And Jacob, in turn, is often equally captivated by Sam. Those blue eyes of his contain depths that Jacob could drown in.

Theirs was a whirlwind friendship, you could say. They first connected over Zoom for the chemistry reads and clicked instantly. And once they met in person, well..

They were like two magnetic pieces of a puzzle, interlocking perfectly. They formed a fast and tight bond. An unlikely pairing, to be sure, given how different their backgrounds were. But despite that, the two shared so many common interests and similar ways of thinking, that they couldn’t help but bond quickly.

They bonded so well, in fact, that it wasn’t long before the rumors started to swirl within the fandom. People were picking up on a certain.. energy in their interviews and photoshoots. Truly, the two could not keep their eyes off each other. Could not seem to keep from smiling or laughing whenever they were together. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that they were completely enamored with one another. Even their co-stars and others who worked with them would openly comment on it! They didn’t seem to mind, though. They took it all in stride, even coining their own real life ship name- Jam Reiderson.

“It’s been a bit long, hasn’t it?” Sam remarks after about 15 minutes have gone by. They had been so wrapped up in their conversation that they hadn’t even noticed that the set had gone quiet. “Hey, guys? We almost ready?” Jacob called out, to no response.

“Damn. Do you think they went to lunch and forgot about us?”

Sam just shrugs a little. “Let’s find out.” He reaches for the latch to open the lid, but it won’t release. He tries it again. It won’t budge.

“Hmm. It appears to be stuck.”

“What?” There is a slight panic to Jacob’s voice. He is admittedly the tiniest bit claustrophobic, but it affects him more when he’s alone in his coffin than it does when he’s in one with Sam. He tries not to look too closely at that.

“It’s just jammed, I’m sure. Let me try.” Jacob squirms around as best he can in the limited space available to him, now facing away from Sam, to try to jiggle the handle free. It’s no use. He doesn’t have any more luck than Sam did.

“HEY!” He bangs on the lid of the coffin with his fist. “Can someone give us a hand? We’re stuck in here!”

After a few more attempts at banging and shouting to get their attention, Sam gently squeezes his shoulder. “I think we’ll just have to wait, mon cher.” Sometimes Sam slips into Lestat mode without even realizing it. Jacob never minds. He takes a deep breath and rolls back over to face his co-star. “Guess you’re right. Sorry. You know how I can get in tight spaces sometimes..”

Sam just nods, a peaceful smile in place, but Jacob could swear he sports a smirk for just a half-second. A trick of the light, perhaps.

Neither of them say anything more for a few moments. It’s a bit awkward now. Even though the two are very close and not at all uncomfortable with one another, this situation is.. different. Usually when they hang out in the coffin, they know it will only be for a few minutes, at most. But now..? Well, it will be at least an hour for lunch. Maybe longer. Jacob’s breath hitches unevenly. Of course Sam notices. “Are you alright, Jacob? Do you need me to distract you?”

Jacob bites his lip nervously, nodding a bit. Sam smiles and takes Jacob’s hand, lacing their fingers together and stroking his thumb over the darker skin. “You know I love it in here, in the quiet dark. Sometimes I nap in my coffin during breaks.” He chuckles softly. Jacob scoots in just a little closer. “Would it help if I held you?” Sam asks. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Sam gathers Jacob into his arms, bringing his head to rest on Sam’s broad chest. Jacob can hear the steady thump of Sam’s heart and it does calm him. But he can’t deny that the proximity, the darkness, Sam’s slow breathing, the intimacy of just the two of them together in here, all of it.. has Jacob’s pulse starting to race. In the day to day, they can pretend this part, this.. extra layer to their relationship, isn’t there. That they really are just friends and nothing more..

But it has become much harder to deny in this moment. Especially when Sam’s heart starts to beat faster as well.

For a long while, neither of them move. Or speak. As if afraid any action will irrevocably change the course of their entire relationship. Hell, their entire world.

But then.. slowly.. Sam lifts a hand to Jacob’s head, and begins to comb his fingers through Jacob’s short curls. A small shiver runs through Jacob’s body. Then his hand is on the back of his neck, Sam’s acrylic nails lightly scratching the skin there.

And it feels fucking incredible. ‘I should stop this’, Jacob thinks to himself. Instead, he whimpers softly. His cheeks immediately flame in embarrassment and yet.. he still can’t bring himself to do anything that would course-correct this situation. Instead, he just makes it worse by lifting his own hand to comb his fingers through those glorious blonde locks. A deep rumbling can be heard in Sam’s chest at that. Jacob lifts his head to meet Sam’s eyes, finally feeling a little brave. “What are we doing?” he whispers.

“I don’t know..” comes Sam’s breathy reply. They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, then Jacob shifts a little more, up onto Sam’s chest. Slowly.. ever so slowly.. he leans in. Giving Sam every opportunity to say something. To stop this.

He doesn’t.

The moment Jacob’s lips meet his own, Sam is utterly lost. This is exactly why he had tried to avoid this for so long. Because he just knew that if they ever crossed this line, Sam would fall headlong into the well with no bottom and happily drown there. His heart nearly explodes in his chest as he kisses him back, slipping his arms around his best friend and holding him tight. The invisible string that had held them together was now rapidly turning into a very thick, very strong cord that would be damn near impossible to sever.

The kiss just keeps going and going, neither one of them willing to stop now that they’re finally in the moment they’ve both dreamt about since they laid eyes on one another. Mingled moans fill the coffin as their tongues dance together and their hearts start beating in sync. Hands wander as best they can in the cramped space, Jacob managing to get one under Sam’s shirt to feel those abs he’s lusted over for so long. He wishes he could lick them. He wishes he could do a lot of things that are just not possible at the moment, given space and time constraints.

Speaking of constraints, both of them are bursting at the seams (of their pants). They begin to groan and rut against each other. Jacob pulling roughly on Sam’s hair. Sam sucking hungrily on Jacob’s neck, giving him his first non-work hickey. When their mouths meet again, the kiss is so aggressive that their teeth knock together at first. Jacob sucks on Sam’s tongue and he moans with desire, slipping his hands into the back of Jacob’s pajama pants, digging his pointed nails into the other man’s ass. And just when they are about to explode from all this pent-up energy..

BAM BAM BAM!

A loud knock on the coffin startles the fuck out of both of them and has them scrambling apart from one another as best they can.

“Oh my god, you guys, we are SO sorry!!” One of the assistants is speaking to them through the wood. “Are you okay in there? We’ll have you out in no time, okay? Just hang tight!”

Apparently, she had already tried to open the coffin when she heard noises coming from inside. The two had been so wrapped up in each other, they hadn’t even heard her attempt. As they hear the click of her heels walking away, they stare at each other for a long moment, then dissolve into giggles. “Oh my god, that could have been SO bad.” Sam nods in agreement. “I know..”

There was so much more to be said. So much they needed to talk about. But for now, the sound of the lock being jimmied and the coffin lid creaking open put a pause on all of that. They squint their eyes against the sudden intrusion of the bright stage lights, but between them, hidden away from the sight of others, their hands remain clasped together.

“You two need a break? Want to get out and stretch your legs? Or are you ready to go again?”

The two men looked at each other and smiled, squeezing each other’s hand. “We’re ready,” they said in unison.

Ever the consummate professionals. ⚜️

#jam reiderson #iwtv #rpf #interview with the vampire #loustat #friends to lovers #coworkers #Spotify

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irisintheafterglow · 1 year ago

Text

More Than It Seams (Chapter 1)

summary: you're a hero costume tech working for one of the biggest fashion companies in quirk society, and the days until the most important fashion event of the year are dwindling fast. if you weren't stressed enough, a certain half-and-half hero keeps appearing with rips in his suit. (pro!todoroki x reader)

word count: 3k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of needles, probably inaccurate fashion design vocabulary, strangers to lovers, no specified pronouns for reader

note: aaaaa ok first chapter of my first series. hope you enjoy!! i'm planning on this to be five chapters, and the second chapter I'm planning to release this friday. i <3 shoto todoroki

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated!!!

She couldn’t be serious. You shake your head as if to reset your eyeballs and read over the two scribbled cursive sentences over and over until the reality of your situation set in.

Hey, not gonna be in starting today for maternity leave. Don’t disappoint me. Xo, M

You counted the days on your fingers and groaned, dragging a palm down the front of your face. 7:00 A.M was too early to find out you had to run a multi-million dollar business that wouldn’t hesitate to fire you if you disappointed at the most important fashion event of the year. The coffee maker beeped its readiness right on cue, and you debated making two cups instead of just one. You settled for one but left out a cup with your name on it for a possible second, and plopped down at your station. The sun was just starting to shine through the glass walls of the building you called your office, an odd combination of exposed brick walls and floor-to-ceiling windows. Crooked rows of work tables lined up on one side of the expansive area, with several dozen mannequins and rolls of fabric occupying the other side. A long counter separated the work area from the sitting area, where clients waited for their fittings on plush couches and sipped on complimentary sparkling drinks that M paid for instead of giving her workers a raise.

“G’morning!” The other designer for the company swung open the gate allowing access between the work area and the sitting area, deflating when he saw you throw your head down on your desk in frustration and slam it a few times for good measure. “Or not…” A loud gasp of shock indicated to you that he had read the note, and a long string of expletives left his mouth as you lifted your head and nodded. “She has to be joking.”

You clicked your tongue in agreement. “She is not.”

“HB’s in two weeks, and she decides now is a good time to have her baby?”

“If it were up to me, she wouldn’t even be the head of this place, or having another baby. God knows we don’t need any more of her.” Your coworker scoffs in disbelief, throwing his bag down on his desk and wheeling over a mannequin. “Hey, did you finish working up that fabric design for Cellophane’s suit? He’s supposed to come in on Friday and I think it’d be smart to have a sample of the fabric ready so he can tell us if he doesn’t like it.”

“Yep, I’ll have that over to you ASAP. You don’t need to remind me what happened last year with Dynamight two days before the Ball.”

You cringed at the memory of the Number Two Hero burning your work to ashes right in front of you and telling you to get a color that matched his eyes better. To be fair, the color that his stylist had chosen clashed with his skin tone and you respected Bakugo for recognizing that, but he could have given you back the suit to use as scrap fabric. “It’s the price of working with the best.”

“You mean for the best,” he corrects, giving you a grouchy look before switching on his machine and beginning to hem the miles of fabric for Creati’s dress. You’d asked him if he wanted you to hem the fabric since your quirk would have it done by lunch, but he declined and said that you should focus on designing the remaining heroes’ pieces. The rest of your seamstresses trickled in as the morning progressed, filing into their stations with a polite “good morning” and picking up their scissors. Soon, the office milled with the familiar sounds of cutting fabric, sewing machines, and rolling mannequins, and you spaced out as you sketched your idea for Pinky’s updated costume.

At 11:30, your receptionist sitting at the counter slammed down the phone in alarm, startling the entire room into silence. Her face was nothing short of panic, and you rose quickly from your station to pull her into a corner and figure out why she looked like she had received a bomb threat.

“What’s going on?”

“Shoto is here.”

“Who?”

“Shoto. The pro hero. Is here,” she hisses at you through her teeth, her hands shaking with uncontrollable anxiety.

You blinked at her. “Okay… and?” Pros showing up to the office themselves rather than sending assistants was uncommon but had been done numerous times before. Deku and Creati tended to visit a few times a month, and Pinky liked to stop by on Fridays to treat her favorite staff to ice cream. It was Shoto’s first time appearing in person, as he usually sent an assistant to drop off what was essentially his laundry; you’d always assumed that being a top-ranked hero controlling large sums of inheritance was just too busy to worry about his costume. Still, a customer visiting the office in person, no matter how attractive they were, was the least of your laundry list of problems.

Your receptionist stares at you like you’ve sprouted three heads, and addresses you with an attitude that would have had her fired if M was in office. “What the hell do you mean ‘and’? It’s Shoto… the Number Three Hero. ProMagazine’s #1 ranked hottie.”

“I’m aware,” you state a little impatiently, annoyed by her insistence that this was much more significant than it actually was. “I’m struggling to understand the fuss over just another client–”

A chorus of shocked excitement washed over your staff as the elevator doors dinged and a lean, well-dressed silhouette entered the office. Several of your seamstresses had stood from their chairs and huddled together for moral support, whispering to each other about the stranger who had exited the elevator. Your receptionist’s eyes widen to the size of dollar coins, her hands coming up to your shoulders to push you toward the counter as she disappeared behind rolls of fabric. You rolled your eyes and took a breath, adjusting the measuring tape around your neck and meeting Shoto as he approached the vacant receptionist’s computer. His voice was polite and soft when he spoke, and you swear you hear your workers swooning behind you.

“Hello, I’m here to drop these items off for repair,” he states, gently placing a small stack of folded fabric on the counter in front of you. You couldn’t help but notice how pretty his hands were, and how one ran through his two-toned hair, combing it with elegant fingers. His eyes were each an enchanting shade of blue and grey, and you found it hard to break eye contact with him. ProMagazine was definitely correct.

“Great, I’ll, uh, have this ready in just a bit,” you reply, gesturing towards the waiting area and encouraging Shoto to have a seat. Taking a deep breath in and out and shooting your staff a stern look to get back to work, you unfold the tattered costume on a nearby station behind the counter. His suit wasn’t in the worst condition, but the tears on the arms and chest area posed a significant safety hazard, especially if they continued to open. As hot as it would be to have muscle windows in Shoto’s suit, it’d reflect badly on you if you’d refused to repair the costume for the sake of professionally shot ab photos.

After another steadying breath, you visualize a sewing machine dial in your mind, picking up a spool of strong nylon thread and running your thumb over the torn pieces of fabric; like clockwork, it repaired itself with a neat straight stitch wherever you touched. Your quirk is why M hired you in the first place since you could assemble three pieces in the time it took a machine to do one. You couldn’t send sheets of fabric flying like Best Jeanist, but your ability to telekinetically manipulate thread into stitches proved useful for a career in fashion design. With a few more reinforcement stitches to some worn edges and a quick polish of the suit’s buckles, Shoto’s costume was good as new.

“Here you go; you’re all set.” He turns to look at you, surprised and preoccupied with examining the large posters of costumes M’s company had designed. Frames of initial sketches for his first professional costume were flanked by life-size prints of Pinky, Deku, and Red Riot’s attire. A plaque engraved with Creati’s endorsement message for the company hung in the center, surrounded by fabric swatches and Post-It notes scribbled with measurements. It looked like he had just finished reading through Creati’s statement when you informed him that his suit was ready. “I went ahead and cleaned off some of the grime from the suit’s hardware and sprayed it with anti-rust so it shouldn’t be tarnishing any time soon.”

Shoto looks at you with an expression that you can’t read, gazes down at the repaired suit in front of him, and then back up at you. “Oh. That’s it?”

You release a slightly nervous chuckle to try to ease some of the awkwardness that had settled between you two. “Uh, yep. That’s it.” After another painfully quiet beat, your customer service persona finally kicks back into gear. “Is there anything else I can assist you with today?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, it was a pleasure working with you today–”

“How does your quirk work?” His question arrives completely out of left field, and your brain short-circuits at his genuine expression of interest in your abilities.

“Well, um, I can manipulate thread to follow certain stitch patterns, like the stitch selection on a sewing machine. See, like, here.” You point at one of the newly repaired tears in his costume, running a finger over the fresh seam. You’re keenly aware of how his eyes follow your finger and you attempt to keep your voice even. “I mended this panel of fabric torn down the middle with a straight stitch, which is the sturdiest stitch I can create.”

“So you wave your hands and the threads start moving?” The boyish cluelessness on his face makes your heart flutter. A smile breaks its way into your expression.

“I wish, but I actually have to be touching the fabric.”

“I suppose it’s very useful for a fashion designer, then.” His face is carefully put together, but the tiniest hint of sarcasm bleeds its way into his voice. Was he… joking with you?

“Definitely. I’m essentially a human sewing machine but without needles sprouting from my thumbs.” Your thumb pops up on its own accord for added effect, but then you realize what you just said and shove your hand back in an apron pocket. It was meant as a joke, but the macabre nature of your last quip slips your mind and a part of you dies inside when Shoto physically cringes at the grotesque image. Before you have the chance to apologize for such a distressing remark, he politely nods his head in farewell and gives you a soft “thank you” before returning to the elevator.

Releasing a frustrated noise from your throat at the fact that you just scared off Todoroki Shoto, you lay your forehead on the counter between your elbows. The elevator button dings, and to your horror, you realize that he hadn’t left the office yet. Instead, he was looking at you amusedly over his toned shoulder. The corner of his mouth quirks up the tiniest bit as he watches your burning face attempt to regain its composure, and then he’s gone.

“That was a shit show,” your other designer mutters under his breath, handing you another cup of coffee.

Tuesday morning at 11:30 on the dot, Shoto visits again and catches your receptionist off guard, reducing her to a puddle of “How can I help you?” and “Can I get you a sparkling drink?” With your back turned to the doors, you don’t notice him immediately as you concentrate on draping expensive maroon fabric around Creati’s mannequin. Eyebrows drawn in concentration and holding a pin between your teeth, your hands work meticulously to create perfect pleats under the waistline of the bodice. It isn’t until your receptionist nervously calls out your name that you abruptly drop the fabric, Shoto’s mouth twitching as he watches you hurriedly place your box of pins on a nearby station and approach the counter. You lightly tap your receptionist’s shoulder, snapping her out of her daze to find Shoto a drink that you knew was out of stock and leaving you two alone again.

“Shoto, it’s a pleasure to see you.” You try to mask the unease in your voice with a forced smile. “What can I help you with today?”

His face is blank, but his eyes shine like he’s analyzing you. “I ripped the suit again.”

Your face falls in comical disbelief. “Again?”

He shrugs. “I guess I need stronger stitches.” His heterochromatic eyes stare into yours, and you meet his challenge with a slight squint.

“Guess you do.” You take the folded suit from his hands and drop the volume of your voice. “Or maybe you need to stop tearing my work.”

He huffs out a breath that sounds like a choked laugh and you smile innocently at him, hoping this interaction replaced the awkwardness of yesterday. Your hand gestures to the seating area again, but he shakes his head, instead crossing his muscular arms and watching you intently as you work. The damage to his suit could barely be considered a tear, and you don’t even bother using your quirk to repair it. You feel him staring at you as you easily patch up the suit with a backstitch, and you swear you could hear him hum thoughtfully behind you. Minutes after he entered the office, you slide the garment back to him with a satisfied smile.

He does that thing again, looking at you, down at his suit, then back at you. “You didn’t use your quirk.”

It was your turn to shrug. “Didn’t need to.” As entertaining as his presence was, it would have taken longer to repair it with your quirk, and you had three mannequins of patterns demanding your immediate attention. “Is there anything else I can assist you with today?”

Shoto dodges your question, instead scanning the seamstresses at their work areas trying not to stare at him. “You’re awfully good at getting people in and out.” One eyebrow quirks in question. He’s testing you, silently asking whether you were trying to get rid of him quickly.

“With all due respect, a rip on a Pro’s suit is the least of my worries right now.”

“What are the most of your worries?” You direct his attention to the three mannequins behind you, covered in multi-colored pins and beige pattern panels. “Red Riot, Pinky, and Cellophane’s Ball outfits. Need to have them done by next Friday, and I was just in the middle of pleating the skirt of Momo’s dress. It’s taking a lot longer than expected because I tragically only have two hands.”

Shoto’s mouth opens in an ah of realization, taking in the elaborate construction plan of the layered asymmetrical gown. You couldn’t have predicted his reply to save your life.

“May I help you?”

Your mind halts the production of coherent thoughts. “Oh, no, really. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not your job.”

“But there is something I can help with.”

“I mean, yes, but–”

“Then please, show me what to do.” You decide that it would be pointless to fight his stubborn determination, so you try not to notice the gasps from your staff as Shoto pushes open the gate into the work area and stands beside Creati’s mannequin. You knelt into the same position as before, sitting back on your heels as you searched for the last pleat you made.

“So I just need you to hold the fabric in place so that it doesn’t unfold, like this,” you direct, scrunching the edge into a carefully measured fold. He watches you diligently, allowing you to reposition his hands so that you could effectively create a seam. His hands were soft beneath your fingers as you brushed veins and lean muscle. You push away the thought of what else he could do with his hands, refocusing on your work and delicately rotating the mannequin as you made your way around its waist. To your surprise, Shoto made soft conversation with you, asking about other Pros’ looks and the design inspiration behind them. Small talk flowed easily as you worked, and he proved to be much more witty than interviews captured.

When you finished, Shoto ran his finger over the pleats you had just made in admiration. A glance at the rest of the mannequins leads to his expression becoming puzzled. “Where is mine?” He offers an open hand to you as you rise from the floor, and you revel in the cool touch of his palm against your tired thumb.

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. The truth was, his stylist had ordered a simple black suit for him, barely different than the suit he wore the previous year and all of the years prior. Shoto’s media reputation had him notorious for attending as few public events as possible, and donning safe solid-colored suits when he did appear. His eyebrows rise in anticipation of your answer, still holding your hand, and you finally conjure up an explanation. “Well, technically, your look is already finished. It was one of the first looks we finished because of its simplicity.”

“Simplicity?” He releases your hand, flexing his fingers like he was squeezing a stress ball. Shit, were your hands sweaty?

“Yeah, your stylist tends to request subdued designs for public appearances.”

A low hum is all you receive in acknowledgment, and a look of deep thought washes over his handsome expression.

“Maybe I will aim for a different design this year, then.”

And just the same as Monday, he nods farewell before heading back to the elevator, leaving you frozen by the mannequin. A split second before the doors slide open, he gives you a mischievous look and a single thumbs-up, a reminder of the embarrassing interaction from the day before. You roll your eyes at him and are delighted to see the corner of his mouth turn up again.

The elevator doors shut, and you can’t help hoping he creates another tear in his suit for tomorrow.

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