#dare i say he is the Catalyst so he's just there but he's Everything

[hyuckworld]

DID SUNG HANBIN ALWAYS LOOK AT YOU LIKE YOU HAD HUNG THE MOON AND STARS

reading ady zeroseblr debut hi 🙂‍↕️

omg i love their dynamic already sob OF COURSE HANBIN IS A STRONG CONTENDER FOR EMPLOYEE OF THE YEAR EVERYONE LOVES HIM (understandably so) mc is so valid for being a hater because that mfer (endearing) got away with giving out a frozen sandwich because of his FACE CARD..... absolutely wicked (but hanbin is so right he is a changed man. Not the frozen sandwich serving man he was last week)

“I’m coming for your award,” he breathes cheekily into your ear. 

such a nonchalant line but i died so bad I TOO DIED ON THE SPOT.....why would he say that why why why😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔

“Cute,” he had said, causing you to flinch in shock. He agreeably promised to keep the noise down, and with your face heating up from a mixture of embarrassment and surprise, you turned around and left without another word. 

JSRIHH SHDUGH HE FOUND HER CUTE FROM THE BEGINNING SHOULD I JUST DIE☹️ it's the way he started calling her pajama girl after that im gonna kms HE SO FELL FIRST AND HARDER im sobbing so bad the dance classes..... the GE class he didn't need to take...... the boba runs...... the library trips HES DOWN HORRENDOUS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 PICKING HER UP WHEN SHES TOO DRUNK was my last straw actually

Hanbin searches your face with a hint of desperation, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sparkle in his eyes. (Did Sung Hanbin always look at you like you had hung the moon and stars?) 

did sung hanbin always look at you like you had hung the moon and stars is the craziest line actually. you will be paying for my therapy (and not yours) thanks

DID SUNG HANBIN ALWAYS LOOK AT YOU LIKE YOU HAD HUNG THE MOON AND STARS😭😭😭💓💕💖💖💓💞💘💕💗 i won't move on

HOW DARE U SAY JIWOONG IS JUST THERE HE IS A CRAAAZY WINGMAN who the hell says they schedule two people together because they're a perfect match together IM GONNA DIEEE he's rooting hard for their endgame bc if i was the manager i would just be like damn ur times work out so 😕

HANBIN KISS........should i just die i think i shoud just die (me when i'd kill myself bc he's sick) BUT GODDDD..........AND HE WENT BACJ IN FOR MORE this is my last straw ady <//3 HAPPIEST DAY OF HIS LIFE i need to be put down what a cutie

thank you for saving zeroseblr zhaobear i hope you continue to save me and save zeroseblr because i might collapse if i don't see gyuvin fic completed

a perfect match

PAIRING : sung hanbin x fem reader

GENRES : fluff, crack, college au, barista au, mild enemies/rivals to lovers au, sick fic

WORD COUNT : 4310 words

SUMMARY : you and sung hanbin complement each other perfectly, whether it's behind the coffee bar or during late nights in your dorm building. however, companionship quickly turns to competition as the end of the year approaches — and with that, the glorious title of employee of the year. but when hanbin falls sick, you decide you can put your feud aside for one day.

WARNINGS : profanity, brief mentions of drinking, one slightly heated kiss, mc is competitive, hanbin is messing with her, jiwoong is just there, injeolmi toast reference, there are interspersed flashbacks in italics & one tense change!

AUTHOR'S NOTE : helloo making my zeroseblr debut!! thank you so much to anyone who reads i hope you enjoy <3 a huge huge thank you to @jayflrt and @s7toru for the support and encouragement, i don't think i'd be publishing this without them!

“HANBIN DIDN’T COME IN TODAY,” Jiwoong says in lieu of a greeting as soon as you enter the back of the store. 

You flip through the café’s records book, noting down your time of arrival. Jiwoong can yap about Sung Hanbin all he wants, but you won’t let that stop you from getting paid. 

“What does that have to do with me?” You shoot back, tying up your apron.

Jiwoong shrugs. “You guys are close, right? I thought you’d know what’s up.”

You scoff. You and Hanbin may have been close once, but that was before he started coming for your position.

“Keep it up, Hanbin!” Jiwoong claps Hanbin on the shoulder as he finishes taking a customer’s order. “Engaging with customers and making them feel connected to the store is one of our most important values.” 

“Thanks, Jiwoong,” Hanbin beams, the sight of his dimples causing butterflies to take flight in your stomach, for whatever strange reason. That is, until Jiwoong’s next words. 

“With how much improvement you’re making, you might just be up for Employee of the Year.” Jiwoong winks. Your jaw drops to the floor. Jiwoong doesn’t notice your mouth hanging open and simply returns to making drinks like he didn't just shatter your entire world. 

“What the hell!” You call out indignantly. “Why would he get Employee of the Year?”

Jiwoong turns to look at you like he’s just remembering your presence for the first time. 

“Well, Hanbin’s been learning very quickly since he joined. He’s made a lot of improvement and the customers love him.” 

“He served a frozen sandwich the other day!” You cry out. You remember it clearly — the customer had approached you with a furious glint in her eyes, demanding to know why her sandwich wasn’t heated. Hanbin had popped up behind you to apologize for his mistake, and a blush immediately overtook her face as she shoved the sandwich into her mouth, claiming she preferred it frozen anyway. 

“That was last week! I’m a changed man now,” Hanbin insists.

“The award should not go to him,” You splutter at Jiwoong. “I can talk to customers too!” You shove Hanbin away as the next customer in line approaches the register. 

“Hi, could I please get an iced matcha latte, and a—”

“Hi, how was your day?” You interrupt loudly. Jiwoong slaps a hand to his mouth to stifle a poorly-contained laugh. The girl’s eyes go wide as she takes in your expression, her gaze flitting nervously between you and the door, like she’s considering bolting out of the shop. 

“Sorry, don’t mind her. She means well,” a smooth voice interrupts. Hanbin slides back to his position on the register, his hand circling your waist as he gently eases you to the side.

You huff. “I can handle myself on register!” 

Hanbin’s hand shifts to your lower back as he leans over to whisper to you. “You’re staring the poor girl down like she just murdered your family. I got this.” 

True to his words, the girl visibly relaxes when Hanbin takes over and begins to make conversation. Your cheeks grow hot at the gesture. You should be angry, but Hanbin’s hand is warm on you and his shoulder is knocking into yours and you can’t seem to think straight. 

Hanbin leans close again, and your brain short-circuits.

“I’m coming for your award,” he breathes cheekily into your ear. 

The giddy feeling in your chest immediately dies on the spot. 

You scowl at the memory, your knuckles turning white as you tie the strings of your apron tighter. Jiwoong raises an eyebrow, reminding you of his question. 

“I’m not speaking to him anymore.” You have to hold back from crossing your arms like an angry child. 

“You were fighting him over the register on Wednesday,” Jiwoong points out.

“A lot can change in three days.”

Jiwoong sighs. “Seriously, do you know what’s up? He hasn’t called or texted at all.” 

That makes you pause. Ever since your current feud with Sung Hanbin, he became particularly more committed to “beating” you at work, whether it was clocking in earlier than you, going beyond the necessary opening requirements, or covering more shifts than usual. For him to not show up to work without any prior notice or explanation — maybe there is something wrong. 

You relent. “I’ll go check up on him after my shift, okay?” 

A Cheshire grin spreads across Jiwoong’s face. “So much extra effort,” he muses. 

“We live in the same building,” you deadpan. You check your hair in the small mirror on the wall before heading to the front of the store for your shift. 

“I didn’t even tell you to go check up on him!” Jiwoong calls to your back. You give him the finger in return. 

“Hanbin, open up!” You yell, pounding on his door for what feels like the millionth time. You press your ear to the wood, but hear absolutely nothing. 

“I can see your Snap location!”

Then, a rustle. 

You hear the creak of a bed, and the sound of soft footsteps gradually approaching closer. The door swings open, revealing Sung Hanbin in his pajamas. 

“You were in bed the whole time?” You shriek. “Jiwoong was worried sick! He was acting like you dropped off the face of the Earth when you didn’t contact anyone!” 

Hanbin wordlessly turns around, making a beeline away from the door. You huff, following him inside his dorm without another thought. 

“You’re just going to leave when I’m talking to you? Look, I get it if you don’t want to interact with me, but you shouldn’t ghost your manager. Isn’t that—”

Hanbin stumbles into the bathroom and slams the door shut on you. Realization dawns upon you when you hear retching from the other end. The puzzle pieces slot into place — his glazed eyes, paler-than-usual face, and complete lack of energy. 

“Hanbin?” You ask, your voice softer than before. No response. “Do you need any help?” 

“No,” Hanbin whispers faintly behind the door. 

“Okay,” you respond uneasily, “but I’m staying here until you come out.” 

You take his soft sigh as affirmation, and immediately pull out your phone to text his roommate. 

you: wya??

taerae: staying w my aunt for the weekend taerae: why whats up?

you: hanbins sick

taerae: oh shit taerae: well. gl to him

you: 😭 you: do you have medicine

taerae: no 😂 taerae: wait actually taerae: check the bottom drawer on my desk

you: found it ty

You gather whatever medicines look helpful from Taerae’s drawer, then grab water from the fridge. Soon enough, you hear Hanbin moving behind the door, followed by the flush of the toilet and water running from the sink. He emerges from the bathroom, his face glistening with water droplets. He looks tired in a way you’ve never seen before as he trudges past you and collapses at the foot of his bed. 

He groans softly at the hard surface, but makes no move to get up. You crouch down to the ground, pressing your hand against his forehead in concern. 

“Hanbin,” you gasp. “You’re burning up.” 

Hanbin makes a pitiful noise, shifting so he’s pressing his flushed cheek to the cold tile. You loop your arms through his and haul him to his feet. 

“You missed the bed,” you try to joke, but even you can hear the terribly masked worry in your voice. Hanbin slumps onto the mattress, and you carefully pull the covers over him despite his small sounds of protest. He’s clearly not concerned enough to do anything more, so he mutters incoherent nonsense under his breath and then closes his eyes. 

You can’t help the minuscule twitch of your lips at the sight, but you turn back to the medicine bottles before you can allow yourself to dwell on it. 

Once you’ve arranged an assortment of pills and the water, you gently shake Hanbin, whose eyes are still shut. 

“Sit up,” you urge, tapping his shoulder. Hanbin cracks open an eye, sulking. Regardless, he complies, sitting up and fully opening his eyes. “Take these.” 

His frown deepens, but his gaze scans your face and he obeys without another word. 

“How long have you been sick like this?” 

Silence. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” You try instead. Hanbin pauses, like he’s taking a moment to genuinely think about it, then shrugs blankly. “Hanbin, you have to eat!” 

“Not hungry,” he mumbles. 

“This isn’t up for debate,” you shoot back. “I’ll go grab you something, so stay here, okay?”

Hanbin nods, sinking back into bed. You shoulder your bag and search for his phone and keys, finding them on his desk. 

“Here,” you say, tucking his phone under his pillow. “Call me if you need anything. I’m taking your keys so you don’t have to let me in. Take a nap, and I’ll be back soon.”

Hanbin only buries his face further into the pillow. You refill his water and adjust the room temperature before slipping on your shoes at the front. You helplessly turn back to look at him once more, like a compass straying north. Then, you leave. 

When Sung Hanbin first walked into Say Yes! Coffee with a stunning resume and even more stunning smile, you recognized him instantly. 

You had met Hanbin in the beginning of your sophomore year on a Thursday night, when the noise from the room above yours was becoming unbearable. 

You had stormed up the stairs in your pajamas, too tired to care about appearances as you incessantly knocked on the door. When the door opened to a man clad in all black with an unnervingly handsome face, you faltered slightly. However, the sight of the dim lights and red solo cups behind him rekindled your anger, and you immediately began to tell him off. 

He was holding a party on a Thursday night, for god’s sake, couldn’t he at least have waited until the weekend? As you continued on about the lack of consideration for those with Friday morning classes — however small the number may be — your voice got stuck in your throat when the man responded with a dazzling smile. 

“Cute,” he had said, causing you to flinch in shock. He agreeably promised to keep the noise down, and with your face heating up from a mixture of embarrassment and surprise, you turned around and left without another word. 

You didn’t see him again after that incident, but true to his word, the noise was considerably softer in the following parties. When you saw him again at your workplace, you weren’t even sure if he’d remember you. 

However, Hanbin’s eyes had instantly lit up. “Pajama girl!” He’d exclaimed, and your smile dropped. 

From then onwards, your relationship had taken a turn. Jiwoong began scheduling the two of you for almost every shift together, allowing you to witness every step of his journey — from training, to slowly taking over register, to becoming a pain in your ass. It almost made you sentimental, thinking about how much you’d gotten to see. 

With the increased shifts came increased shenanigans during breaks, from ridiculous drink concoctions to espresso shot chugging competitions. Eventually, these were followed by unexpected knocks on your door and boba runs between classes. 

Hanbin would let you into the dance studio, smirking at your reactions in the mirror whenever he caught you staring as he practiced. You allowed him to tag along on your trips to the library, even though he would use the soundproof study room to loudly poke fun at you while you would fret over your lab reports and problem sets. 

Despite the vast differences in your majors, you still had the common denominator of a shared dorm building. This was clear every time Hanbin would knock on your door to drag you to his upstairs parties to expand your social circle, or when you would knock on his to deliver successful baking experiments. 

In your second semester, he joined you in a General Education class that he absolutely did not need to take, and you started going to his open dance classes despite your severe lack of coordination. 

So perhaps Jiwoong was right, maybe you were incredibly close — until the possibility of Hanbin winning Employee of the Year became real enough to scare you, until you decided it would be easier to hate him. (Was it Employee of the Year that you were afraid of, or something else?)

You reenter Hanbin’s dorm with a giant thermos of steaming hot soup, an extra blanket, and an assortment of items from the nearby drugstore. You dump the contents onto the table, wincing at the amount. You may have gone slightly crazy and swept nearly everything off the shelves at the pharmacy, but you convince yourself they’ll be necessary. 

When you enter his room with the food, you’re surprised to find that he’s already awake. His brows furrow slightly at the sight of you.

“I brought you soup,” you explain, nodding at the bowl in your hands. “Eat.” 

While the Hanbin 30 minutes ago was so sluggish he could barely keep his eyes open, this Hanbin is uncannily alert. His eyes dart back and forth between you, the soup, and the medicines scattered across his desk. He opens and closes his mouth, like he’s searching for the right words. 

“Why’re you doing this?” A strange question to settle on, but you smile at him softly. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t understand,” he replies, his gaze wary. 

You frown. “You’ve done the same for me. Remember when I got super drunk at Matthew’s and you brought me home?” 

Hanbin goes silent. 

Things like this between you and Hanbin are never questioned — they always go without saying. He threatens you at work, but he still picks you up when you drink too much. You fight him over the register, but you still sit next to him in class and watch him from the back of the dance studio. You’re still here, because you know Hanbin would be no different. 

“You don’t owe me for that,” Hanbin blurts out, red creeping up his cheeks. 

“I don’t think of it like that. I’m here because I want you to get better,” you say, holding out the bowl of soup to him. A peace offering. 

Hanbin hesitates, then accepts it, blowing on it to cool it down and taking a sip. He hums in satisfaction, then shovels the rest down his throat within a minute. You gape. 

“Slow down,” you scold, remembering the vomiting from earlier. You feel a pang of guilt realizing how hungry he must’ve been, motionless in his bed without the energy to eat. 

Hanbin grows more lethargic on his second bowl, his eyelids beginning to sink. He catches himself just before he can allow himself to doze, and you frown. You can’t help but wonder why he’s fighting sleep when it’s what he needs the most — his half-lidded eyes stay focused on you, and then it hits you. Maybe he wants to be alone. 

You take the bowl back and pull the covers over him, noting with a twinge of satisfaction that some color has returned to his face. 

“I’ll clean things up and then head out so you can get some sleep,” you tell him. Although something deep inside you longs to stay, to stick with him until you’re sure that his fever is gone, you stand up from the chair. 

However, Hanbin grabs your elbow before you can fully turn away. When you look at him, there’s a plea behind his eyes that he doesn’t seem keen on voicing. Even when he’s sick, he’s strong, tugging you back towards him until you’re sitting at the edge of the bed. 

“Do you want more soup?” You ask, unsure of what he needs from you. 

Hanbin shakes his head. “Stay,” he mumbles, so faint that you barely hear it. 

Oh. 

“Sleep,” you coax him gently, your heart squeezing at his request. “I won’t go anywhere.”

Hanbin searches your face with a hint of desperation, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sparkle in his eyes. (Did Sung Hanbin always look at you like you had hung the moon and stars?) 

You don’t have to think about it for too long because Hanbin seems to find whatever he’s looking for in your expression and finally closes his eyes. Sleep pulls him under within minutes, evident in his deeper breathing and the loosened tension in his body. 

You brush some of his hair away from his forehead, softening at the lines of his face, more youthful and relaxed with the rest. 

In a few minutes, you know you’ll have to clean up, restock the fridge, and find a damp washcloth to reduce his temperature. But you allow yourself a moment to stare, brushing his thumb with your cheek. 

Even while asleep, Hanbin leans into the touch, like a flower searching for sunlight, and you flinch. You return to your chair next to his bed and watch him until the sun rises, your heart a jumbled mess. 

“Jiwoong.” Hanbin calls out one morning towards the end of his training, when the three of you are opening the store. 

“Hmm?” Jiwoong shoots Hanbin a brief glance before going back to busying himself with the espresso machine.  

“Why do you always schedule me and Y/N together?”

You turn at the mention of your name, perking up with curiosity. Jiwoong’s brows furrow, almost as though the answer is obvious. 

“Y/N is efficient, in pretty much all ways possible. She can make the most drinks in the least time possible, without compromising quality. She’s also great at responding to unexpected situations,” Jiwoong explains. You grin at the compliment but stay silent, sensing he has more to say. 

“Hanbin, you’re slower and sometimes you freeze up during mishaps. But you’re good with customers. You know enough about coffee to make recommendations. You’re perceptive, so you’re first to know when we need to restock. All of which Y/N tends to fall short on. Which is fine, of course, because neither of you is perfect.

“But what one of you lacks, the other one makes up. You’re imperfect separately, but a perfect match together.” Jiwoong puts a pause to his grandiose speech to fish for the keys in his pocket. “Anyways, I’m going to unlock the door now.” 

You shoot Hanbin an incredulous look, despite the warm feeling spreading throughout your chest. Hanbin looks equally confused, but his gaze softens when you make eye contact. The smile he returns is so tender that you have to look away, your face burning like a star. You go back to wiping down the counters, and avoid thinking about Sung Hanbin and how incredibly red his ears were. 

When Hanbin wakes up, you’re reminded of his training days from all those months ago, of his shy but earnest demeanor, unafraid to reveal his struggles and ask for help. 

This Hanbin is similarly vulnerable, allowing himself to be open and show you weakness. Allowing you to help him. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Hanbin’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and you flush, shaking yourself out of your nostalgia. You press the back of your hand against his forehead, sighing in relief. 

“Drink this, it’ll help," you say, avoiding his eyes as you hand him a glass of orange juice. “Your fever finally broke.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’m sweating balls,” he rasps, kicking off the blankets you’d piled on top of him. He chugs down the juice and rubs at his eyes. “What day is it?”

“It’s Sunday evening. You pretty much slept through the whole day,” you grin.

“Did you stay since yesterday?” A hint of guilt flashes across Hanbin’s face. 

“It’s fine, I got some work done,” you wave it off, gesturing to your computer propped open on his desk. “Taerae’s gonna be back soon, so I’ll head out, okay? I texted Jiwoong for you, so you’re not working tomorrow. There’s some extra soup in the fridge, so heat that whenever you want.” 

You start to gather your things, but Hanbin catches your wrist. His expression is abnormally serious, his eyes piercing holes into yours. 

“What’s wrong? Do you need something?” You use your other hand to check his forehead again, but he stops you.

"I need you."

Your mouth falls open. “What?” 

Hanbin quickly catches himself. "I need you — to drop this Employee of the Year thing. Jiwoong already told me he's giving it to you."

You're still stuck on the first three words of his sentence, but when the gears in your head finally turn you gasp. It's a lot to process and you shake your head, wondering if you even heard him right. How long were you fighting for an award that was already yours?

"I thought you wanted to win," is all you can think of saying.

Hanbin smiles, warm and soft in a way so familiar that your heart aches. “Y/N, I don’t care about Employee of the Year. Go out with me.”

You find yourself at a loss for words, but Hanbin doesn’t seem to mind as he continues.

“I know I still have a lot to learn, and I didn't even care about the award that much. I was mostly just teasing you, so can we please stop fighting over it? Or else I’ll seriously think you hate me.” 

“I don’t hate you,” you choke out. 

Hanbin chuckles. “I figured that now. No one spends this much time and effort on someone they hate.” 

“Shut up,” you say halfheartedly, your heart hammering in your chest. “Are you serious?” Hanbin tugs you by the hands, enough that you’re sitting on the edge of his bed. All traces of humor vanish from his face as he stares at you intently. 

“Y/N, I like you. I thought you were cute ever since you showed up at my doorstep in your pajamas. And I’ve been hopelessly obsessed with you ever since we started working together. Does that answer your question?” 

Fireworks explode in your chest as you think back to Jiwoong’s old words. 

What one of you lacks, the other one makes up. 

When Hanbin is sick, you take care of him. When Hanbin forgets to eat at the dance studio, you bring him food. And despite all your incessant fighting, Hanbin covers for you at the register. Hanbin invites you to parties when you’re cooped up in the library for too long. Hanbin sends you his notes when you doze off in class. 

Your heart thumps in your chest as you begin to put together the little moments of your relationship. You were a perfect match the whole time, just as Jiwoong said, only you hadn’t truly realized the weight of his words. You itch with the need to do something, but your hands are still tightly grasped in Hanbin’s and you can’t think of much else to do than to lean down and press your lips to his cheek. 

Hanbin makes a small noise of surprise at the contact, his hands slackening around yours. You flush at the warmth of his skin against your mouth, feeling as though you’re floating somewhere above the stars. When you pull away, Hanbin’s eyes are closed, lashes fanned against his cheekbones and face tilted upwards like he’s hoping for more, or savoring it. His eyes are glassy when they finally open, eliciting a giggle from your throat. 

“I like you too,” you grin, “if that didn’t make it clear.” 

Hanbin smiles then, so wide that you can see his whisker dimples. He pulls you down and on top of him, burying his face in your neck. 

“Let me kiss you properly,” he whispers into your skin. You separate from him enough to read his expression, eyes widening at the sudden sharpness in his gaze. His eyes flicker between yours, before darting down to your lips and fixating on them. 

“Won’t your mouth taste horrible?” You tease, but you’re already leaning in. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he murmurs against your lips before closing the distance.

A thousand firecrackers flare up in your body when his mouth meets yours. You gasp when his tongue slips into your mouth, leaving behind the pleasantly surprising taste of orange juice. 

Sparks fly where his skin touches yours, multiplied by a thousand when he cradles your cheek and deepens the kiss. Your hand moves to the back of his neck, tugging lightly on his hair. The soft groan that emits from Hanbin causes a jolt of pleasure to shudder down your spine, and you instinctively tug harder.

You pull away far too soon to catch your breath, breath hitching at the string of saliva between both your lips. 

“Gross,” you lie, but Hanbin’s eyes only darken. 

“I wanna do that again.” He leans in again, but you veer away before you can allow your judgment to blur. 

“You have to focus on getting better first!” You swat at his hands. 

Hanbin pouts. “I’m way better. Stellar, actually.” 

“You can kiss me in two days.”

Hanbin’s answering smile is blindingly bright, even though you didn’t say anything particularly funny. 

“What is it?” Your pulse races at how he looks at you — like you’re made of every precious thing in the world, like you’re a dream made alive. 

“I think this might be the happiest day of my life,” he answers. As he grins at you with the warmth of the entire sun, you realize the fluttering behind your ribcage was never a new feeling — you were just as enamored with him when you first met. 

You smile back, bigger than you’ve ever smiled at Hanbin, watching his gaze turn awestruck as a red-hot blush creeps up his cheeks and neck.  

“I think it might be mine too.” 

[gay-dorito-dust]

After request the kiss on the cheek and gotmany likes, its too joyful for me. Im craving angst

Stans brothers reaction when Bill told them that y/n will and always died in every universe and dimensions like stuck forever as zombie/wood statue/etc, which y/n will die in their own dimension too in matter of time or months, time is ticking, they can’t change destiny (can they?)

Ford

Didn’t like those odds at all.

He and bill had history and who’s to say that this wasn’t just Bill trying another method to get inside his head once more by using you, his beloved, as a cheap tactic to do so.

‘I thought a being would have more tact than this Bill.’ Ford would say as the dream demon only chuckled.

‘Oh Stanford, do you really think I’d bluff about this? You should know me better by now that I do not bluff, I’ll show you instead seeing as how stubborn you are into believing me nowadays.’ Bill said as he then showed Ford of all the infinite ways you died throughout the multiverse:

Drowned

Stabbed

Possessed

Lost in the multiverse

Body snatched

Turned to stone

Went through a curse doorway unknowingly and never returned, etc, etc.

Bill took immense pleasure in the horrified look upon Ford’s face as he gingerly traced your face as though you turned into porcelain and not stone.

‘Sucks doesn’t it knowing they your loved one is bound to die in every single timeline, it’s enough to suck the joy out of everything.’ Bill said as Ford only glares at him. You don’t deserve these fates, none of your alternate selves did and he could only imagine what you could’ve possibly felt before dying alone.

‘Oh and your beloved y/n is on route to die in like five months.’ Bill casually mentions and Ford immediately looks to him again.

‘What do you mean by that? How do they die! How can I stop it!’ Ford exclaimed as he felt his heart race and his blood run cold at the sheer helplessness he felt in the moment, but it only proved to humour bill all the more. ‘Oh you can’t prevent this one Stanford Pines, they’ll die regardless of what you do to try and prevent it they’ll die regardless and you’ll have to live with it.’ Bill says before leaving Ford alone with his rampaging thoughts.

He could send you away to Dimension 52 to stay with Jheselbraum for the time being, just until he figured something out, but what if Bill foresees this move being made and goes after you himself? Ford didn’t know what he could do to protect you and it was driving him mad with Bill’s vague nonsense not helping him in the slightest. He’ll become paranoid of every little thing you did from that point onward to the point that even if you got a paper cut Ford was expecting something unfortunate to happen, but it never did.

Shit like this kept him awake at night as he holds you tightly against his chest, staring at the ceiling as though daring it to try and take you from him, which it didn’t but Ford grew skeptical of everyone you came across in case they were the catalyst for your death and kept himself near you at all times, hand on his gun in the instance he need to use it to keep you safe.

Ford would busy himself down in his lab to the point of exhaustion looking and theorising methods on how he could prevent your death, so much so that you’d have to come down and practically dragging him out because he was worrying you and the rest of the family. But Ford was stubborn as stubborn could be when it came to you and your safety that he tends to drown out your concerns for him, much to your dismay.

Ford believed that Bill was tempting him into making a deal to keep you safe but he knew that even as powerful as Bill was, even he couldn’t prevent something that he himself and told him happened across the entirety of the Multiverse. So Ford stuck to his guns and buried himself in work to keep you safe because he couldn’t and wouldn’t loose you if he could help it.

Stan

Doesn’t believe a thing Bill is saying in the slightest and thinks it’s all a pile of horseshit, up until the triangle demon shows him of all the infinite universes of which you did indeed die did Stan actually start to believe that Bill was actually telling the truth for once.

Zombies made you one of them.

Got turned to stone by a gorgon like creature and wasn’t saved in time.

Possessed by bill and had multiple stab wounds, bruises, scratches and lacerations from his misuse.

Submerged in amber/tree sap, face permanently stuck in horror.

Eaten by the Summerween Trickster.

Replaced by the shapeshifter after you were killed for being the imposter.

So many timelines where you’ve died cruelly or unfairly and it broke Stan’s heart knowing that in all of these universes his other selves might’ve been either too late, or made the wrong choices that he probably regrets as he downs each and every bottle of the hardest liquor in hopes he’d numb the pain.

He was destined to loose you no matter what and things weren’t made any better when Bill tells him that you were on route to die really soon, taunting him with the fact that there was nothing he, Ford or even the Pine Twins and their stupid pet pig could do to stop it; you’re death was an inevitability across the entire multiverse.

Stan hated being told that there was nothing he could do to prevent you from dying, he hated being told what he can’t do in general! So he’ll much rather take his odds with trying any and everything in his power to keep you safe and sound, even if it means dying himself he’ll do it gladly knowing you were okay.

He was already protective of you to begin with but with the added fact that you were bound to die sooner or later had Stan become even more protective of you. So much so that he doesn’t leave the shack without a crossbow or even his brass knuckles to fight off whoever or whatever was going to try and take you from him; hell he might even teach you how to fight should you get into trouble and he’s not there to protect you.

He keeps you by his side almost 24/7 at this point and would shower you in affection as though he was going to run out of time to do so, even going so far as to keep you away from walking under any ladders, tripping over anything and or crossing the street when you shouldn’t. However it got concerning to the point where you’d have to sit him down and ask what was wrong. Stan isn’t one to talk about his emotions nor how he felt about certain things but this was something he knew he had to share with you sooner or later, regardless of whether you believed him or not.

Stan still thought Bill was full of shit and even acted like he didn’t believe him about you dying and everything, but deep down Stan was scared that his best attempts to keep you safe wouldn’t be enough and that you’ll be taken away, regardless of how hard he fought back but Stan wasn’t one to easily give up not when his loved ones are involved.

[giuliettagaltieri]

One of Them

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Lovesick!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Rafe, middle name: SIMP, Cameron, at your service

Warning: None

Word Count: 1196

Ficlet from Lovesick Little Thing

As young men of Outer Banks are to inherit the family names of their fathers, to become the sole proprietor of their multi-million businesses, possibly run for office, to someday become the leaders and catalyst of change, they made sure to become acquainted with each other and to never fail to attend the meeting they hold in a random house they elect every first Friday night of the month.  And there was only one single rule that none of them can ever break.  No girls allowed.

It started with their fear of cooties, and then their fear of hormonal mood swings of budding women, and none of them got over it as they grew older.  It was the leader of the pack, Rafe Cameron, who came up with the stupid idea.  He was so strict with it that he threatened to kick out anyone who tries to bring a chick to these meetings. 

They were to wear formal clothing, completed with ties, polished shoes, and crisp suits like the fine gentlemen that they are.  Anybody who fails to come in the expected outfit shall be refused a seat at the table.

Imagine the look of surprise when they arrive in Tanneyhill with you sleeping snugly, cuddling with Rafe, who is dressed in linen pants and opened button down shirt, with his bare feet visible for everybody to see!

They all halted their steps.  Eyes wide and questioning as they look at you and then at Rafe and is that a plushie tucked under his arm?

All of them stood by the doorway, some struggling to stick their heads in to see what’s holding everybody up. 

“Is the monthly meeting canceled?”  Somebody asks and Rafe rolls his eyes.

“You guys coming in or what?”  Rafe snaps, making you stir in your sleep but Rafe puts a hand behind your head to let you rest against his arm again.  You hook a leg over his and as soon as you’re knocked out, Rafe turns to the huddled men over the doorway.  If it isn’t for Topper, nobody would have dared to cross the threshold.

It was uncomfortable for them.  There was music playing but they didn’t have the usual Vivaldi and Paganini that boomed around the room.  It was some stupid lullaby that Kelce played, because Rafe would have their heads rolling if they dared to disturb your sleep.

They weren’t used to the usual hushed way of talking but Rafe glared daggers at anyone who wasn’t whispering.  Nobody played billiards or cards in fear that they might get too excited and wake you up.

But like a good host, Rafe let them drink Tanneyhill’s stash of alcohol. 

Problem was he made Topper and Kelce the fucking baristas.  No more than two crystal glasses of the vintage liquor.

When you finally stirred awake, they were relieved, finally they could get the party started.

Or so they thought.

You were suddenly craving fries and sundae.

Rafe had to go. 

Of course, you felt bad, and even insisted that you go alone.  His guests nodded at Rafe, hoping he’ll listen.  As much of an asshole Rafe is, they didn’t feel like partying without him.

But everything you say goes over his head as he gathers his keys and wallet.

You were still talking when he put a hand on the small of your back, you were looking at his guests apologetically and the jackass didn’t even spare them a glance.

“What an asshole.”  Somebody in the crowd murmurs sadly and all of them nod in agreement, the dampened mood worsening.  “I even brought his favorite cigar.”

Kelce glances at Topper and they sigh in unison.  They’ll have to excuse Rafe.  He has been without your attention for a while, he just had to hog you for himself.

“Rafe, that wasn’t so nice.  You are hosting the party, you should stay behind.”  You refuse to get inside his car and he looks at you blankly while he keeps the door open for you.  “I can go to the diner by myself.”

Rafe rolls his eyes and before you can say anything else, he is lifting you up on the passenger seat.  You talk his ear off, lecturing him as he works on fastening your seatbelt for you.

“You will leave a bad impression.”  You fume, cheeks slightly bubbled, and he sighs, bowing his head before glancing at you, his corded arms are gripping the sides of your seat, trapping you in.  The atmosphere suddenly grew thick, making your voice die in your throat.

Gulping, you shut your mouth and averted his gaze.

“You done?”  He spoke lowly.

Not able to find your voice, you just nodded at him, eyes busy studying the gems on your watch.  Rafe nods back and heads over to the driver’s seat.  He looks at you one last time before revving up the car, roaring the engine just the way you hated before speeding off.

You weren’t talking to him and Rafe decides to leave you for now.  But he does place a warm hand over your knee to let you know he’s willing to talk as soon as you are.

The trees are getting pretty boring, so are the enormous mansions in your neighborhood.

“Should we get them burgers?”  You spoke softly, nimble hands playing with the seatbelt.  You eye his pretty hands and reach for it but he had to move the gear shift.  A pout formed on your lips but Rafe places his hand on your bare thigh now.  His grip makes your heart beat uncontrollably.

“If you want, baby.”  He says while he rides his hands upwards. 

His hands were getting dangerously close to your heat that you had to clear your throat.  Rafe grins and lowers his hand back to your midthigh.  He doesn’t make a comment when he hears you breathe out a sigh of relief.

The downturned faces of Rafe’s guests brighten up at the sight of you and the bags and bags and bags of burgers you insisted on carrying just for them. 

Rafe saunters behind you, face passive as he twirls his keys on his finger.  Rafe’s eyes are trailed on the back of your thighs as you pass around the burgers to the now grinning men.

They didn’t like your intrusion at first but you got Rafe wrapped around your finger and they can for sure use that to their advantage.

“Oh man, I’d love to have something sweet after this.”  Somebody sighs as he looks at his burger.  You perk up at that.

“Should I get Rafe to order dessert for all of us?”  You wonder out loud, a chorus of cheers echoes around the room and Kelce taps Rafe’s shoulders in sympathy as the latter groans but fishes his phone out of his pocket anyway.

Topper swings an arm over Rafe’s shoulder.  “Yeah, you definitely should, Y/N.  Tell him to get us those overpriced cookies they sell on the other side of the island.”

Rafe accidentally jabs an elbow on Topper’s rib but as soon as you heard, your eyes lit up and Rafe knew he just had to do it.

“Anything for my girl.”

Lovesick Little Thing • Coming Soon

[yourvienna]

bug in the ground. MIYA ATSUMU

preview — fic masterlist.

miya atsumu x gn! reader; 1.2k words; soulmate au.

It ends like the final crack of thunder in a storm. It’s loud, frightening. It sends shock waves down your spine as the rain continues to pour, and pour, and pour. Because the tears can’t seem to let up as he ushers you out of his apartment with words of sorrow and deceiving eyes. You catch a glimpse of her expression as he shuts the door one final time and you know right then they’re perfect for each other. 

It’s supposed to last forever. A bond constructed by the gods has no room for error. There’s supposed to be no room for error. Your soulmate is supposed to be by your side from the moment the two of you lock eyes, discover the ink upon your skin drawn by the heavens -- crafted by destiny. 

But you guess destiny is stupid, and the gods aren’t perfect. If they were, then you wouldn’t be sobbing on the side of the street at two in the morning. 

It’s late, but every time you dare to think about leaving the curb your throat constricts into a knot as though a snake has twisted its way around your neck, slowly but surely squeezing tighter and tighter. Your arms wrap around yourself, knees pulled up to your chest -- it’s for security, for comfort, for warmth. Your soulmate fucking left you. How comical. 

You can’t help but think of when you first met, the ink on your left arm burning as he greeted you before school. All it took was a little push from a passerby to meet him. 

You wish that person never ran into you. 

“Was I not good enough?” You think, tears stinging the apples of your cheeks. Is the tattoo that the two of you share not enough proof of your bond? Even then -- was your hand caressing his every morning or the way you memorized all of his many coffee orders enough proof either? You love him (loved? is it now loved?), how is that not enough? 

It was obvious thirty minutes ago that it wasn’t

If you were good enough, then he wouldn’t have been with another girl. 

So now you’re on the street opposite of his apartment. You’re crying. And you don’t know where to go from here. 

You recall all of the stories you’ve been told about soulmates, about how there will never be a moment when you doubt their love; how they always find each other; how they’ll withstand all the hardships that come their way. Somehow, it doesn’t seem like this is one of those stories. You rack the depths of your mind for another story, one involving a broken bond. But you can’t find one, because there are none. 

Another thought rummages its way into your head: you’ll be alone for the rest of your life. 

The idea is the catalyst for another round of sobs.  

A cough sounds from beside you, and through your foggy gaze you can make out a man. Your hand wipes the tears from your face -- the sudden realization that you look like a total wreck hits you. 

He’s surprised (as he should be, because who wouldn’t after finding a sobbing girl on the street at two a.m?), eyebrows raised and hands gripping the strap of a duffle bag. But there’s something in his eyes, something that’s hidden within the crevices of his face. It’s familiar. You hate it. 

“If you’re here to kill me, just get it over with,” 

Your gaze detracts back to the ground, body tensing for the feeling of whatever in his bag to come crashing down over you. 

He laughs. It’s loud and sharp and it’s everything you don’t want to hear. 

“I’m not gonna kill ya,” He says, raising one eyebrow to ask why you even thought that. 

You motion to his duffle bag, another chuckle sounds through the crisp air. He opens it to reveal an assortment of gear and clothes. He’s an athlete. You shiver. Another snake wraps its way around your neck at the thought of him. 

“Are you okay?”

Atsumu doesn’t know why he decides to stop when he sees you across the street. It’s late and he’s tired from practicing even when the scheduled one ended hours ago. Before he knew it, the time on his phone slowly switched from nine to two and he knew he had to go. But right when he went to call Osamu he heard your soft sobs, an unknown force pushing him to see what’s wrong. 

“Does it look like it?” You scoff.

“No.” He sits beside you on the curb, a foot or so away. 

You don’t say anything; what are you supposed to say? He’s just a stranger who’s only talking to you because you're crying and he wants to do something good for his conscience. Why else would he want to console the girl without a soulmate? People don’t do things just to help someone else. There has to be something in it for them: feeling good for themself, a good mark, a raise. 

“It’s two a.m, it’s not safe out here.” 

“You’re out here.” 

“I was practicing; I’m walking home.” 

“Oh,” You nod. He nods too. 

“So, you never answered my question y’know,” He does this thing where he looks around while he’s talking and when he ends the sentence he looks at you, eyes pointed. It’s different. 

“My soulmate broke our bond.” You glance at your tattoo. What was once a small dove chirping on your forearm is now a crow with a broken wing. A fleeting wonder of: “does he have the same one?” goes through your head. 

“They can do that?” 

“I mean he just did, so yeah, they can do that.” A bitter laugh emits from your lips, but the tears have ceased to run down your red cheeks. 

Atsumu doesn’t comfort people. He’s not good at it, he never was. That’s Osamu’s job and everyone he’s ever met knows it. But Osamu’s not here and neither are his teammates. So he says the same words he’s heard in every sad movie he’s ever watched. 

“'M Sorry,” He thinks it’s genuine; he knows where you’re coming from. You don’t think the same, however. 

“It’s okay, there’s nothing anyone can do.” 

“Do you want me to go?” A wedge of hope lies in the bottom of your heart, one that prays he doesn’t want to leave.

(Deep down, he doesn’t want to go.)

“No. I don’t think so.” Because he’s the first person you’ve encountered other than the racoon eating out of the trashcan across the street and you need human comfort right now, but you don’t tell him that. 

“Okay. I’ll stay.” 

He does. The two of you sit in silence, the only sounds being the December wind brushing against your lashes and the remnants of the garbage left by the racoon tumbling in the breeze. He sits with you on the curb until the time switches from two to three and he decides that it’s too cold to be out here.  

He walks you home, once again in silence, but the aura it provides is warm. And when you reach your doorstep and before he can bid his goodbye, you give him your number. It’s surprising to you when you blurt out the words, but the man is nice, so why not? (You don’t want a rebound, to clarify, because for all you know he could already have found his soulmate. You know how that feels to be on the other side of that situation.) 

“I’m Y/n, by the way.” You say as he tucks the device back into his pocket. 

“Miya Atsumu.” 

[angelfoxx]

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° “…US?”

…in which their feelings for you become apparent.

FEATURING: simon “ghost” riley, john “soap” mactavish, & keegan p russ I AM SALIVATING

WARNINGS: suggestive, but nothing nsfw. yet 😇 also so sorry i write k**gan’s name and i just get fucked up. i just can’t behave myself. so i lose my mind a little in his section eek

NOTES: excuse my rather small starting lineup; i’m still new to the game and all of its lore and i’d rather get to know the characters first rather than make horrible headcanons based off of their fanon interpretations. you know, like making a six foot ten war criminal dresses in a fucking executioner’s hood a little uwu baby

— SIMON “GHOST” RILEY.

✧ Everything I see on TikTok regarding this guy makes him seem like a fucking demon in the sheets. I really don’t get that vibe. Especially not at the start of a relationship.

✧ The first time you meet, he thinks you’re attractive. And then he pushes that thought aside, because he’s a soldier. He’s actively at work doing a high-risk, high-stress job. You’re attractive, yes, but he’s not going to pursue you. This is not the right time for that.

✧ Things develop after…like, a long ass time. And it’s not sexual in the start. It’s, like…you’re cleaning your gun down after a mission, and you get a clean rag thrown into your lap. You look up into those hollow soulless fucking eyes and Ghost just shrugs, not meeting your gaze but instead just vaguely gesturing at your gun. “Your rag’s dirty. You’re rubbin’ dirt int’a the thing.”

✧ It’s small things like that. Things that are helpful but always laced with a comment that could be considered sort of rude or abrasive. He doesn’t notice; he only realizes that he’s coming off as rude and probably pushing you away after he makes a comment on your form being lazy and Price, sort of quietly laughing, asks why he’s so insistent on snarking on you. He replies that mistakes like yours could get you hurt. Which, they could. But so could everyone else’s, and he doesn’t make comments about them. So…?

✧ Phase two of him trying to…hit on you? Exist with you? Who fucking knows. Anyways, he just stops talking. He’ll still throw you clean rags, but he won’t make a comment about how using a dirty rag is ruining your gun. He’ll still make a point out of sweeping fallen food and shit off of your spot at the table after you eat, but he doesn’t grumble and scoff at you not to waste anymore. He resorts to silent acts of service to the point where it gets annoying. He’s always quiet, but now he’s unnervingly quiet and honestly, is it still him if he doesn’t catch you for random things every now and then?

✧ The silent stage can go on forever, so a catalyst really saves you. The catalyst comes when a new recruit gets a little too aggressive; a small argument about your ability on the field turns into a minor brawl. Aforementioned brawl immediately ends when the recruit dares to put their hands on you and shove you and Ghost, like some six-foot-one demon cast from the pits of hell, appears behind you and gets very up close and personal with them. Asking what the hell they think they’re doing, asking if they think that’s a good way to have a team on the field, et cetera, et cetera. Basically, he makes the recruit feel like absolute shit. Oh, and he doesn’t look at you the entire time.

✧ So, obviously, now you have a weird situation at hand. You’re getting ready to go to sleep and everyone’s sort of looking at you funny, because there’s no reason for a fucking lieutenant to jump in and break up an argument like that—pulling people apart, sure, but not so suddenly and not so aggressively. The recruit hasn’t spoken to you. Ghost hasn’t spoken to you. So, anyways, you pay him a visit.

✧ You go down to say thanks, and for some fucking reason, the guy can’t take a compliment. Or gratitude. He says you were slower than the other recruit, that it’ll get you killed on the field, et cetera. He can’t just shut up and take the thanks.

“I’m telling you, I…I came down here to thank you, of all things. Can you cut the criticism one time and accept it?”

Ghost stiffens. It’s not a thousand-yard stare anymore. It’s just a wide, pissed-off glare. For a long minute, he’s silent. And then…

“Welcome.” His voice is grumpish. “Happy?”

“Sure.” You manage a little smile. It’s sort of funny; he can’t just take your thank you and drop it. “It’s improvement.”

Ghost nods once, albeit stiffly. “Okay.”

“…so, you gonna tell me why you did it?” You ask it as a joke. You aren’t dumb. You know he wants you gone. You’re expecting a harsh “get out” or something of the like. You aren’t expecting an answer.

“Disrespect makes ignorance. Ignorance makes casualties.” Oh. An actual real, reasonable answer. Surprising. Ghost himself seems a little surprised; he blinks owlishly again, and he doesn’t say anything else. He’s just a big guy standing in a little room with a skull mask on.

“Oh.” You swallow. “That’s…rational.”

“Were you expecting irrational?”

“No. I wasn’t expecting anything.” You scoff. “You’re not exactly chatty.”

“I don’t waste words.” Ghost’s eyes narrow. “I’m not dumb.”

“I didn’t call you dumb.” You shrug. “I’m just surprised you gave me an answer that wasn’t bitching at me.”

“I don’t bitch.”

“You do.”

“I’m not a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl, recruit. I don’t bitch.”

“Even Price thinks you bitch. At me, at least. All the time.”

✧ Price thinks he bitches at you? And he’d told you? Oh, no, no. Externally, Ghost is stiff and stoic. Internally, Ghost is shitting bricks. Price had told you that? Straight-up told you that? Oh, no. You and Price talk and he comes up in conversation? Oh, no, no, no.

✧ He addresses this with Price, obviously. Storms in all puffed-out and pissy and asks what the hell he’s doing gossiping about his soldiers and Price just sort of laughs him off, asking what he’s talking about and then why he’s so upset that he’s bringing up one of his best men to one of the recruits.

✧ Oh.

✧ Ghost swears up and down it’s not like that. He swears and he bangs the side of his hand on the table and he curses on his own heart that it’s not like that but the whole time Price is laughing because in all of the years that he’s known Simon, not once has Simon broken through Ghost. But now, he has. The stumbling over words, the defensive aggression, the way he’s pacing so furiously—oh, Simon Riley is melting down inside that big mask and it’s equal parts heartbreaking and hilarious.

✧ Cue Price becoming a wingman. Ghost swears he’ll kill him every time he puts you two together to spar or puts you two on cleanup duty or god fucking forbid you’re in the doghouse doing some foul task and Ghost has to watch you. God fucking damn the captain, because he knows Ghost will grumble and complain but with you, he’ll eventually stop that in favor of helping you. And it’s sort of heartwarming for him to do his nightly rounds and it’s all quiet but there’s voices coming out of the kitchen and he can hear Ghost in that gruff, grumbly tone telling you how to mop and you snidely telling him that if you can’t do it right, then maybe he should do it instead. And he objects, of course, and then within ten minutes Price watches Ghost’s shadow come up to yours and he hears the mop change hands.

✧ It takes you a long time to realize that you’re really being assigned to Ghost’s side for every fucking thing you do. It takes you an even longer time to realize that Price tends to pass by you two on occasion, and every time he does, he’s smiling. And it takes you a ridiculously long time to realize that Ghost isn’t always radiating heat; whenever he takes the mop from you or takes the gun you’re cleaning from you, whenever he finishes off a task that you’ve started, it’s not that he’s always that hot. It’s that, under that mask, he’s flushed.

✧ It takes you a very, very long time to realize that the legendary Ghost has taken an actual liking to you.

— JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH.

✧ Thank fucking god this guy is next. Slow burn ass Ghost makes me want to rip my eyes out. Just have passionate angry sex and talk about your feelings after. Christ.

✧ It’s not exactly a secret that the minute you arrived on base, you gained an admirer.

✧ Soap isn’t someone who rarely gets hooked on someone else. The guy’s a walking heart eyes emoji. The difference with you was that it wasn’t the kind of attraction that had him sweet-talking you over drinks that night.

✧ This was different. Rather than chase, Soap wanted to impress — and, well, he tried. He tried his fucking hardest. He tried so hard the other higher-ups noticed. How embarrassing.

✧ Every time you’re in the room, he somehow gets even chattier. His voice drops. If he’s working out, he starts loading weights onto the bar he’s using to an almost comical degree. He loses his fucking mind. It’s like he short circuits. Which is ridiculous, because he’s a fucking soldier. What the fuck is he doing trying to lift five hundred pounds on a Tuesday morning? Why is he freaking the fuck out?

✧ The thing is, right, is you’re not exactly hovering over the guy. You have your own agenda to adhere to and also, it would be really weird if you just started laying praises on him, so you go about your day as regular and poor Soap is left heartbroken and also achy-armed because you literally could not care less that he’s lifting double, triple his body weight.

✧ Literally every higher-up notices. They make jokes about it and he borders on threatening friendly fire. It’s just a little crush. That’s all it is. Yeah. And so when you’re all doing team sparring and you keep winning, he’s just watching you like a lovesick puppy because it’s just a little crush. That’s all.

✧ Price can’t have his soldiers slacking off. Of course not. He can’t have them getting lazy — so he orders Soap to go up against you. Because, you know, he seems out of it and you’re the best of the recruits, so you’ll go against someone better. Yeah. That’s why he calls him out.

✧ God bless the poor guy. He panics for like three seconds and then makes a very thickly-accented taunt about how it’s unfair to you to go up against him. You, of course, in the spirit of good fun, reply to his taunt and tell him to prove it.

✧ He goes into the circle with you. He goes into the circle with you and he fucking falls apart.

You’ve quickly learned that talking is Soap’s weakness. If his mouth is moving, his feet fall behind.

“Get enough sleep last night, MacTavish?” You dodge a flying fist. “You look a little sleepy.”

“Got plenty.” A wry grin crosses his face. “Don’t worry about my beauty sleep.”

“I have reason to. You need it.” You wrinkle your nose. “Bad.”

Soap’s jaw drops slightly, and — there! — he hesitates. Probably out of surprise, but it’s enough. Deftly, you lunge in at his knees, swipe them out, and…hm. Simple. Almost too easy, actually, to pin him.

Soap’s heart is pounding under your hand. His chest is flat against the ground, but you can feel it through his back, which is wild in and of itself. He grunts when his cheek hits the ground; he mumbles something akin to “bloody hell”, but you can’t quite make out the words.

Grinning, you sit back and kick your heel up against his neck, keeping his head pinned down. The cheering you receive mostly comes from recruits who are impressed with your skill.

The minority is higher-ups, exchanging amused glances. They seem awfully humored with the sight of one of their own being pinned so easily by a new recruit. Hmm…

✧ From that point on, Soap somehow manages to watch more of your sparring sessions. He usually just watches, rather than critique; if you ask, he’ll just say you certainly seem to be doing fine. If you ask for help, though, he’ll help you. Christ, he’ll help you. He’ll genuinely spend time assisting you on whatever is troubling you.

✧ Eventually, after a long training day, you decide to ask Soap to join you in the ring. You genuinely just want to see how you stack up to a “better” opponent; you’ve apparently pushed beating him to the side. Or you just want to do it again. He doesn’t think of that, though.

✧ He’ll come in (after teasing you just a bit) and he will spar with you, just giving you advice and pointers mid-action. He’s whipped, but he’s also still a trained soldier. He knows what he’s doing, and once he gets through the brain fog you seem to weigh down onto him, he is genuinely helpful.

✧ Still, after you’re both hot and panting and finished and resting on the sidelines, you have to ask him why he helps you so much. You have to ask if it’s because he thinks you’re lacking, or bad, or if it’s some sort of personal vendetta for that one time in front of the recruits and the higher-ups.

✧ Soap just laughs and, rather awkwardly, rubs at his neck. He avoids eye contact, and he bites his lip, and he tilts his head around before he dares answer you, tone sheepish. “Consider it a, ah, personal interest.”

— KEEGAN P RUSS.

✧ SHITS MYSELF VIOLENTLY. SO SORRY

✧ i love this fucking man so very much and i don’t know jack shit abt him because i need to play ghosts and get the first hand experience like I don’t want to spoil his character but I URRRGHHGGGGG

✧ imma try to do him justice but sorry if im missing on important lore

✧ He’s not as uptight as Ghost, but he’s not as whipped as Soap. He’s somewhere in the middle; he’s aware that you’re attractive but he does push it aside. He’s working. You’re working. He doesn’t have time for that, and it’s also a safety concern. He remembers what they did to Ajax, and god fucking forbid they try to pull that shit with anyone else to use as bait.

✧ When he’s at base, he’s busy. He’s devoted to his work and he doesn’t cut corners to chit-chat. The most social he’ll really get is at dinner; he’s the kind of person who will eat with the group, but rather than talk, he’ll really just listen. he’s me fr fr

✧ Getting to know Keegan is sort of awkward because he’s just not super outgoing. He’s attractive (if your radio is on and you don’t buckle at the knees the first time you hear his sexy deep pantywetting voice over the thing, are you even real?) and he’s got the whole mysterious quiet guy thing down, and yet when you approach him to try and strike up a conversation with a simple question (“So how was your day?”) he’s prone to just looking at you and raising a brow and answering sort of flatly. (“Same as every other one. What, did something happen?”)

✧ Most of your bonding actually occurs when it’s just the two of you. You’ve bumped into him late at night before — sometimes he’s at the range shooting targets and fiddling with a variety of weapons, or sometimes he’s in the kitchen scouring the shelves, or sometimes he’s in the gym working out when nobody is there to bother him and ogle his fine ass fucking body holy shit his thighs. He’s a little easier to talk to at night, actually. Maybe it’s the lack of a crowd, but the first time you stumble into him making himself a pot of fucking tea at damn near midnight, he actually seems friendly.

“What are you making?” For a moment, you panic, thinking that you might’ve just scared the shit out of poor Keegan by speaking so suddenly and from behind where he’s standing beside the sink, a little humming kettle in front of him. His shoulders god his fuckinf shoulders i want to lick them don’t so much as twitch, though — and then you remember the guy’s entire job is stealth and observation. Hell, he probably heard you across camp.

“Tea.” Yeah, he couldn’t sound less concerned. His voice is as low and gravelly as usual; he sounds a little more relaxed, actually, not so brash and shout-y. “Chamomile.”

“Sergeant Russ drinks chamomile tea?” You laugh a little, sort of tentatively. You two aren’t strangers, but you’ve only had a few conversations…if you can call brief exchanges conversations, of course.

“…yeah?” Keegan actually sounds confused; it’s dark in the kitchen, but you can make out the outline of his head turning over his shoulder. “What, you got a problem with that?”

“No. No, sir. No problem.” You shrug. “I just didn’t peg you to be the chamomile tea type.”

“Didn’t you?” The short scoffish bark Keegan lets out is a brief laugh. “What did you peg me for?”

“Dunno. Black, I guess.”

“Are you calling me boring?”

“No.”

Keegan hums in response to that. He busies himself with pouring his tea and thank fucking god your eyes have adjusted to the dim light in here because god, his fucking hip to waist ratio under that gear is something wicked and you let your conversation slip. You’re in here for a snack, but you don’t want to bother—

“You come in here for somethin’ other than staring?” Oh. Good. This is the Keegan you’d expected after hearing him sass half of his team on comms. You can hear the edge of a grin in his voice; there’s a shuffle as he turns around and then a wooden groan as he leans against the counter. A short second later, you hear the almost exaggerated slurp of tea.

“Crackers. I’m hungry.”

A wooden scrubbing sound. He’s moved over, presumably to let you open the cabinet housing boxes of sort of dry, not particularly good crackers. He doesn’t say a word; he just keeps drinking his tea and pretends to ignore you as you make your way over, crouching down to fumble for a bag of crackers. Pretend, because you can feel that he’s watching you. His presence on the field is invisible; his gaze in the kitchen is not. Still, he doesn’t bother you; he lets you get your crackers and retire to the edge of the counter across from him to snack, and he doesn’t say a word.

“Are you always so quiet?” You gesture vaguely at the slight shape of him. “Is it just part of the job?”

Keegan laughs, more to himself than in response to you. “Sure.”

✧ He is, generally, pretty quiet. His usual demeanor is laid-back and observant; if he’s not under stress, though, and you start talking to him, he’ll respond almost always with something mildly sarcastic. You come to learn that he isn’t actually boring. He’s got a quick sense of occasionally-dark humor. Sometimes he laughs at his own jokes—usually after he’s started to walk away from you. He’s fiercely protective of the Ghosts and any recruits training near or with them. He also doesn’t seem to mind you.

✧ You’d hesitate to say you two were friends — it always seemed like there was something in between you, though you couldn’t name what — but you were friendly, and it was nice.

✧ During group dinners, he’d stand against the wall behind you. Or across from you, though usually doing that meant that he’d make a game out of trying to get you to squirm under his constant staring. He’d run into you late-night in the kitchen and make casual, not uncomfortable, small talk. Hell, at one point he offered you a drink post-training and made a sort of point to always offer you one whenever you had returned to base and were lingering around in the later hours.

✧ After a particularly long day, you find him in the kitchen, just drinking straight from the bottle. He offers you the thing — he seems more than a little tipsy, but when you decline (he’s been drinking directly from it, and…the fuck does army hygiene look like?) he sort of half-laughs and says, sarcastically, “What d’you look so horrified for? Too good to share a bottle, princess?” and then he immediately excused himself afterward.

✧ You know that saying, “drunk words are sober thoughts”? Yeah. Yeah.

✧ i need the fatty part of keegans thigh in my mouth right now i need to bite it i need to bite it and go rrrrrahrhrahrah like a fucking rabid dog

[earlycuntsets]

"MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE

Rediscovering themselves as creative, dangerous and daring

After spending most of 2009 working with producer Brendan O’Brien on a follow-up to their hit 2006 album The Black Parade, the members of My Chemical Romance were hit with an unsettling realization: They didn’t like their new material all that much. They felt bored and stifled. So when a quick session to write a couple of additional songs veered in a more inspiring direction, the band saw its chance to start over.

Re-teaming with Black Parade producer Rob Cavallo, the musicians—singer Gerard Way, bass player Mikey Way and guitarists Ray Toro and Frank Iero—ditched the rules they had established for themselves about their sound and the kind of songs they wrote (for the sessions, drummer John Miceli replaced now-departed member Bob Bryar behind the kit). Unburdened of those constraints, the group soon emerged from Cavallo’s Calabasas, Calif., studio with Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys. Although imagined as a series of pirate-radio broadcasts coming from California in the year 2019, the band’s energetic, hook-filled fourth album is not designed as a strictly conceptual theatrical piece in the way The Black Parade was (witness Days’ straightforwardly rocking first single, “Na Na Na [Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na]”). “It was a long gestation period to get to this record,” says Ray Toro, “but I don’t think it would have worked any other way.” We spoke with Toro about the changes and self-discoveries that finally led to My Chemical Romance’s new music.

Were you comfortable with how elaborate The Black Parade tour was?

I felt like we were doing a stage show or a musical, instead of being a band. We wore these rigid costumes, the show was the same every night. It wasn’t choreographed, but it was timed out to feel like the album. We missed the spontaneity. When you say “rock ’n’ roll band,” you think spontaneous. The Black Parade was very restrictive. We had stripped out all the best parts of the band, even the creativity, and we didn’t get back to actually being a rock ’n’ roll band until we started doing Danger Days this year.

Why didn’t you release the album you made with Brendan O’Brien?

At the end of 2009, we decided to get into the studio with Rob Cavallo and write one or two new tracks to fill out that [O’Brien-produced] record. We realized the momentum from these new songs was carrying us, and we decided to scrap everything else we had done. It was clear to us that the true My Chemical Romance was in the songs that ended up on Danger Days. That’s us being creative, dangerous, daring—and the previous stuff we were working on had none of that.

Why did that epiphany take so long?

We have a desire to constantly create something new, and after we were done touring on The Black Parade, we didn’t have anything left. So we took a break, then started the process: We wrote and recorded an entire record and scrapped it. If we had tried to get into the studio sooner after finishing the tour, we probably wouldn’t be a band today. And if we put out that record we were working on in 2009, we probably wouldn’t be a band today.

The situation was that dire?

We just weren’t in the right place at that time. It really took writing “Na Na Na” and reuniting with Rob Cavallo. All those elements really added up to this atmosphere where it was inspiring to work again. Prior to that, we were showing up at the studio like zombies.

Where did “Na Na Na” come from?

We were all frustrated, and Gerard had gone out with his wife for a long weekend in the desert. He ended up writing the riff and the lyrics to “Na Na Na.” When we got back to Cavallo’s studio, he brought it up and we tracked it. There was an energy in that room that was very different from the prior sessions. It was pretty clear when we wrote that song that we were going to start over, but we didn’t really know it until we were about four songs in. That song was the catalyst for starting over and rediscovering what this band is. Before, everything was, “You can’t, you don’t, you shouldn’t.” We wrote “Na Na Na” and all of that went out the window.

When did the concept emerge?

It was all organic. Gerard had been coming up with a lot of art pieces. He was working on a comic with a friend of ours, Shaun Simon, back home, and it had some of the same ideas as the record. If you look at the lyrics, it’s about the returning of color to the world, of danger. That’s the crux of what the record is about. But it’s only conceptual in the sense that it’s framed as a pirate-radio broadcast from the future. When you listen to the record, there’s not a story being told. As far as characters and settings, that’s more for the videos.

Did you purposely avoid a narrative?

On The Black Parade, one of the things we got stuck in was trying to tell a story. That’s a big undertaking, and when you’re trying to tell a story, the songwriting suffers, because sometimes you have to do certain things musically to tell that story. This album was simply about writing a collection of great songs.

What was the writing like?

We did most of it in the studio, which was cool. That’s also why it’s the most organic record we’ve done. We had all these tools at our disposal all the time, and that was a great way to write. There was no time that took place between when you had an idea and when you could try it. To me, music is something that you have to capture right when you hear it. This is the first record we really wrote in a studio, and I think we’ll always do it that way. The possibilities are endless.

How fast did you work?

The first batch of four or five songs came pretty quickly. Two days after “Na Na Na,” we wrote “Vampire Money” and then “SING.” Each song was so different from the last, and every day in the studio you were getting something different. We were being challenged as musicians and songwriters to do something different, something that we’d never done before. I can’t even explain how exciting that is. There was this energy, this vibrancy, in the studio, and in the music, too. You could definitely tell when somebody had an idea. We usually would get to the studio in the early afternoon, and you could just see a look in people’s eyes, like, “I’ve got this idea!” It was the most freeing feeling any of us have ever had. It felt like rediscovering the band.

–Eric R. Danton"

12/2010 music and musicians magazine

[pretzel-box]

Chapter 2: The W in WcWonalds stands for Winning

Tags: Pure comedy

Words: 2,9k

“Allo, Allo. Allo! Pspspsps, Allo!” Casimir beamed brightly at the other man, holding up a small box labeled Paper Cups as if he’d just discovered the secret to life.

Allo, without lifting his head entirely from the ridiculously long newspaper that stretched halfway down the table, side-eyed Casimir and then glanced at the box. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow and sighed. “If you’re trying to sell me paper cups again, please know that I will dispose of them just like the last 23 you’ve tried to push on me.”

Casimir’s grin didn’t falter for even a second. In fact, it widened. He shook the box a little for emphasis. “Ah, but no, no, my friend. This is no ordinary box of paper cups. This is a box full of—”

“COKE!” Nick's voice suddenly boomed through the air, cutting Casimir off entirely. Nick barreled through a nearby patch of open water, waving frantically. “I WANT TO ORDER A COKE!”

In front of him, Cheshire was swimming as fast as possible, trying to escape whatever chaos Nick was trying to rope them into this time.

Casimir, still holding up the box, blinked and watched the scene unfold. He glanced at Allo, who hadn’t even bothered to look up from his paper.

“...Coke?” Casimir finally muttered, confused, before shaking it off and continuing his pitch. “Anyway, as I was saying, this box is full of—”

“I SAID, COKE!” Nick shouted again, now completely ignoring everyone else as he chased Cheshire around the water, determined to complete his non-existent order.

Casimir sighed dramatically, muttering under his breath. “Forget the paper cups. I should’ve invested in better staff members.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Allo raised an eyebrow, still clutching the ridiculously long newspaper but not actually reading it anymore. His tone was more of a dare than a question.

The inquiry alone set off a mischievous glint in Casimir’s eyes. Without hesitation, he shoved Allo off his seat and plopped down himself, ready to deliver a grand tale. “Ah, my friend, let me take you on a journey.”

And with that, a flashback started—whether anyone wanted it or not, everyone around them was suddenly pulled into it.

It was probably a Tuesday afternoon. Inside the community room, Sasha stood in the middle, notebook in hand, while Painter sat idly on top of a catering cart. Painter’s mobile body wasn’t quite ready yet, so Sasha, ever the problem-solver, had resorted to using the catering cart as his temporary mode of transportation.

“So, we should improve our quality of life by adding more human-like stuff,” Sasha declared, placing her notebook down on Painter, who quietly blinked.

Painter, who was basically a high-tech computer with personality, hummed thoughtfully. “The system suggests that a quality improvement for life would involve... good food. Good food is essential for a good atmosphere.”

Casimir’s voice echoed through the flashback, narrating as if this were an epic saga. “Ah, but of course, this suggestion was the catalyst for everything. The search for 'good food' began, and soon, chaos would follow.”

Back in the present, Allo had stopped pretending to care about the newspaper. He stared blankly at Casimir. "This is all about food?"

Casimir nodded solemnly, but before he could continue the saga, another loud “COKE!” came from Nick, still sprinting through the water, causing Cheshire to swim faster to escape.

"Of course, it always starts with food," Casimir said dramatically, pointing at Nick as if this proved his point entirely. "And ends with—"

Before Casimir could finish, Angela stormed into the scene, hands on her hips, glaring at everyone. "WHAT is going on here?! Do you think this is a playground?! Nick! Stop shouting about Coke! Cheshire, stop encouraging him! And you—" She pointed at Casimir, who tried his best to look innocent. "Stop throwing people off chairs and starting flashbacks without warning!"

Casimir blinked, then grinned sheepishly. "Oh... mother mode, activated."

“Ah, Allo, I’m sorry for startling you,” Angela’s tone switched in an instant, going from stern to soft and motherly. Amilia paddled up behind her, making her way onto land before plopping down next to Casimir.

Casimir pouted dramatically, folding his arms. “I wasn’t done—”

But Angela, ever so gently, took over, and like some sort of magical spell, we were all once again pulled into another flashback.

“I know the perfect source for good food,” Cordelia’s voice rang out confidently as she entered, a spotlight somehow illuminating her entrance. She strutted down a random set of stairs, stepping into the room with the energy of a magical girl lead. Without hesitation, she squished herself between Sasha and Painter, striking a pose. “McDonald's!”

“McDonald’s? We can’t do that. It has a copyright,” Painter deadpanned, his digital voice full of skepticism.

“WcWonalds...?” Sasha offered, her voice uncertain but filled with hope. The suggestion hit Cordelia like a revelation, her eyes lighting up in awe.

“WcWonalds!” Cordelia repeated, as if it were the most groundbreaking idea in existence.

Angela of the past, shook her head at the absurdity, watching the scene play out with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. "You all really are impossible." She sighed, but it was the kind of sigh a mother gives after realizing her kids are too far gone in their antics.

The flashback ended, and the moment Angela wanted to continue, another person came crashing into the room.

“Lord Commander, oh mighty WcWonalds leader, Casimir. René started a fire in the kitchen, innocent fries are burning.” Cyrus called out, his neat little WcWonalds uniform was now covered in soot.

Casimir blinked, before sighing. “What about the Walkie Talkie I gave you?”

“It fell victim to the fryer, it is now among the burning pommes.”

Casimir took the paper cup box, opened it and revealed a set of Walkie Talkies, sponsored by Sebastian. He threw a new one to Cyrus, not noticing that Angela snatched one for herself too out of the box.

Amelia wanted to grab one too, trying to fish one out with her mouth but Angela kept her in place, shaking silently her head.

The WcWonalds—formerly an abandoned cafeteria near the community room—had become a gathering spot for anyone seeking mischief or simply trying to avoid responsibilities. Dusty tables were half-cleaned, the counters lined with mismatched kitchen gadgets that looked like they'd been scavenged from a dump. The old sign out front, haphazardly covered with duct tape, now proudly read “WcWonalds,” a creation of Cordelia’s, still beaming over her brilliant copyright dodge.

Inside, chaos reigned as usual. Painter rolled around on his squeaky, upgraded cart, stationed behind the cash register, which refused to stay closed no matter how hard he tried. Cordelia, wearing a lampshade turned into a hat, was overseeing the operation with the air of someone who believed they were running a legitimate establishment. Meanwhile, Cheshire, who escaped Nick, sat at the counter, arms crossed and half-amused as he watched the antics unfold.

The whole group could stay at the restaurant without drying out thanks to the fact that most of the area is damaged, flooded or just naturally having water leaks.

"So, today’s special is...” Painter’s robotic voice paused dramatically as he calculated, “...whatever isn’t expired in the back fridge."

Cheshire leaned back, smirking. “Ah, the usual, then. Can’t wait to see what’s alive back there.”

René, wearing a firefighter’s helmet after their most recent mishap in the kitchen, walked in with a slightly dazed look on their face. They wails, afraid of setting anything else on fire.

Meanwhile Cordelia shouted: “Has anyone seen the toaster oven? I’m pretty sure it disappeared after I used it to heat up some fries.”

Security, leaning against the counter with her tail in a small bucket of water, waved her off. “It’s probably with the deep fryer. I saw it lurking under the sink last time I checked.”

“Right, the deep fryer incident,” Painter muttered, his mechanical voice tinged with guilt. “It... uh... exploded during ‘Experiment 12.’”

Sasha, sitting at a booth with her notebook, raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what was ‘Experiment 12’ again? I don’t have that one listed.”

“Oh, you missed that,” Cheshire replied dryly. “They wanted to see if you could fry fries twice and make them better. Spoiler alert: no.”

As the conversation carried on, René started rummaging through the kitchen, pulling out random items and tossing them aside in search of the toaster. A large jar of pickles rolled across the floor, narrowly missing Security's bucket.

Cordelia, taking her managerial role way too seriously, slapped her hands together. “Alright, people! Time to focus. What’s the WcWonalds slogan again?”

Painter beeped softly before saying, “We can’t get sued if we don’t sell anything.”

Cheshire chuckled. “That’s the spirit.”

A group of new "customers" wandered into WcWonalds, looking both curious and mildly confused. Asterion, with his usual stoic expression, led the way, followed by Tapu, who was already trying to hold back laughter at the sight of the makeshift restaurant. Hanako peered in shyly from the doorway with Yuri, still unsure about the whole situation, and Osiris trailed behind, looking far too regal for the mess she was about to step into.

Cordelia, now fully embracing her self-proclaimed manager status, puffed out her chest and called for order. She turned dramatically toward Security, who was leaning against the wall, half-asleep, with her arms crossed still in the same bucket.

“You! Nr. 7! Bring the customers to a table!” Cordelia ordered, finger pointing like an overly enthusiastic drill sergeant.

Security, who hadn’t moved a muscle in response, slowly raised an eyebrow and shifted her gaze to Cordelia. “Nr. 7? Did you just call me by a number?”

Without missing a beat, Cordelia nodded, clearly proud of herself. “Of course. It’s the official WcWonalds ranking system. You’re number seven.”

Security blinked, her expression unchanging. “And who decided I’m number seven?”

“I did. Obviously,” Cordelia said matter-of-factly. “Now, do your job, or you’ll be demoted to number... uh... 13. Which is bad.”

Security exhaled slowly, clearly unimpressed but too tired to argue. “And why, exactly, is being number 13 bad?”

Cordelia hesitated for a second. “Because... because... that’s the person who has to clean the fridge. And trust me, no one wants that job.”

Painter, from behind the register, beeped in agreement. “The probability of someone finding a sentient yogurt in there is approximately 73%. Proceed with caution.”

Tapu burst out laughing, slapping Asterion on the back. “Did you hear that? Sentient yogurt! I knew this place was special!”

Asterion, as stoic as ever, just grunted and found a seat, looking like a king who had been forced to dine in a peasant’s tavern. Osiris, meanwhile, eyed the tables with disdain before gingerly sitting down, making sure to inspect the chair first as if it might crumble beneath her.

Hanako, still lingering by the door, quietly murmured, “Is it safe in here?” While Yuri tried to spot an open seat that didn't scream danger.

Cheshire, who had been watching the whole interaction from the counter, leaned over and grinned. “Safe? Sure. But I wouldn’t drink anything from the soda machine. Last time we used it, it started spewing foam... and that was three weeks ago.”

Hanako blinked, now even more hesitant to step inside. “I... I’ll just sit by the window,” she mumbled, sliding into a booth far away from the chaos. Yuri followed her with a nod, feeling rather comfortable in the flooded part of the facility.

Cordelia, completely oblivious to the growing unease of her guests, clapped her hands. “Alright, everyone! We’re a well-oiled machine here! Number 7—uh, Security—get them some menus!”

Security just sighed and grabbed a pile of random, crumpled papers from behind the counter, tossing them on the nearest table. “Here. The ‘menu.’ Good luck.”

Tapu unfolded one of the papers and raised an eyebrow. “This is... a takeout flyer from a Chinese place. And it’s from last year.”

Cordelia beamed. “Exactly! Our food transcends time and space. We don't need real menus! Just... feel the vibe of what you want to eat like royalty. Customer is King.”

Painter whirred. “Vibes detected: 99% likelihood of disappointment.”

Osiris, completely unamused, stared down at the so-called "menu" before deadpanning, “I’m royalty. I do not 'feel the vibe' of my food. I expect a menu, and I expect service.”

Cordelia shot her with finger guns. “And that’s exactly what you’re gonna get! Just... not today.”

At that, Tapu couldn’t hold it in anymore. She slapped her hand on the table, cackling. “This is the worst place I’ve ever been, and I love it.”

Asterion leaned back in his chair, folding his arms, his usual grim demeanor cracking slightly. “This is what passes for ‘good food’ around here? No wonder half of them look malnourished.”

Cordelia, not one to be defeated, marched up to Painter. “Alright, get the food ready! What’s the special of the day?”

Painter beeped a few times before announcing, “Special of the day: leftover fries and... one singular chicken nugget.”

Tapu snorted. “One nugget? How generous.”

Cordelia, determined not to lose her managerial swagger, nodded confidently. “It’s a gourmet experience. We serve... minimalist portions.”

Osiris groaned, rubbing her temples. “I demand real food.”

From somewhere in the back, René’s voice wailed which kinda meant, “I FOUND THE TOASTER!”

A loud crash followed, and smoke started wafting out from the kitchen, followed by René stumbling out, their firefighter’s helmet askew. Sasha called out after seeing the smoke. “Uh, minor issue. The toaster may have... uh... caught fire. Again.”

Tapu slapped the table again, this time harder. “Best. Restaurant. Ever.”

Asterion simply sighed as Hanako slid further down into her booth, now reconsidering every decision that had led her to this point.

The whole room felt like it was about to collapse in chaos until, suddenly, Allo ascended from a random hole in the kitchen floor like some culinary deity. He stood there, glowing (probably from the fryer grease) and with an aura of absurd authority.

"Did someone say my name?"

Everyone shook their heads so fast, you’d think they were auditioning for a shampoo commercial. The denials came quickly from all corners.

"Nope."

"Definitely not."

"Not even a whisper."

Allo, completely unbothered, smirked. “Too bad, because now I am here!” His arms shot up dramatically, as if commanding the forces of fast food. “Tag Team, assembly!”

From behind some very suspiciously placed lockers came a loud bang, as they burst open to reveal his “elite squad”:

First up was Nautilea. She marched out, looking sharp in her pressed WcWonalds uniform and glasses. "Looks smart, is smart. Can handle the cash register with her eyes closed and your order with care. But only if you have insurance!"

Yuri raised an eyebrow. "Insurance? For what exactly?"

"Existential dread," Painter beeped quietly from the register.

Next was Roxy, who strutted out balancing six plates in one hand, all perfectly stacked. "Our talented waitress! Can carry your entire order on one arm and balance a stack of pancakes on her head! But," Cordelia added dramatically, "if you complain... she’ll give you extra service by spitting on the food you didn’t order."

Roxy cracked her knuckles, eyeing Osiris. “Try me.”

She immediately looked away.

Finally, Violet stumbled out, looking more confused than anyone else. “Violet, our in-house therapist,” Cordelia introduced, clapping her hands. “She didn’t apply for the job—she got kidnapped! But now, she leads the therapy sessions required after your visit to WcWonalds. Free and anonymous... except for the fact that they’re televised. So, not anonymous anymore!”

Violet waved weakly. “I’m still not sure how I got here... but I’m rolling with it.”

Suddenly, a blaring red light filled the room, accompanied by the wail of a siren. Everyone jumped to attention.

“The WcWonalds emergency alarm!” Allo shouted over the noise. “A starving customer in need!” His voice was dripping with the intensity of a chef who had just been challenged to a cooking duel.

Without missing a beat, Allo swooped over to the one remaining chicken nugget, lying lonely and pathetic on the counter. With the precision of a master, he sliced it into thin strips. Then, with a sprinkle of some mysterious dust (was it seasoning? Magic? No one knew), he popped the strips into the microwave for precisely 10 seconds.

When the microwave dinged, he pulled out the tray, revealing what could only be described as the world’s finest chicken chili wraps. The wrap glistened, like it had been blessed by the gods of fast food themselves.

The crowd erupted into applause. Asterion even managed to clap once, though begrudgingly.

Allo handed the plate to Roxy, who balanced it with ease. “Delivery time!” she called out before kicking it toward Violet.

Violet, with surprising grace, caught the plate mid-air, throwing it again to Nautilea who catched it. “Wrap, incoming!” she yelled, throwing it toward the door just as Sebastian stepped inside.

SMACK.

The wrap hit him square in the face, various ingredients slopping down his clothes in slow motion. He stood frozen in the doorway, staring in bewilderment as shredded lettuce and chili sauce dripped off his nose and splattered on the floor.

The room went silent for a beat.

Sebastian blinked. "What... in the name of Urbanshade...?"

Tapu, unable to hold it in any longer, burst into laughter, slapping the table. "Best... restaurant... EVER!"

Painter's voice chimed in softly from the register, “Current vibe level: chaotic excellence.”

Then Angela came in, carrying Amilia on her arms and giving Sebastian a glance. Amilia sniffed on Sebastian before giving him a soft kick.

“YOU ALL ARE SO GROUNDED.”

WcWonalds got force closed after this day. And this was the end of Allos wonderful job as a chef. Now he was just Allo, the man that never got to fulfill his dreams.

[qoldenskies]

out of curiosity- you mentioned in your idea of the bad future, leo+raph never reconciled and donnie died first (which are both stunning, logical, and horribly heartbreaking how dare you), but i found myself thinking of how mikey would react to that. i mean judging from the movie donnie and mikey probably got closer to deal with their older brothers fighting all the time and its prbly likely they kept seeking comfort as the stress worsened. and yeah mikey wants to keep his family tgether and tries to stay cheery and pacifying but i cant help but picture him lashing out at his brothers after donnies death, maybe even blaming them for it, cause its not really their fault but he selfishly wonders if donnie would still be alive if their brothers hadnt kept fighting

just...ive always wondered on mikeys reaction to losing /donnie/, and if donnie dies first in a world where leo and raph never recovered their relationship, its not gonna be pretty on his end

honestly i could absolutely see him lashing out at them!!! especially because contrary to fanon mikey can be a very abrasive/outspoken person who wouldnt take that bullshit if it got too far, and i could see both donnie's death and raph and leo's breaking (or actively broken) relationship being the final nail in the coffin for him. i could really see it kicking up a lot of rage he's been actively repressing, both to keep things peaceful and because of the whole apocalypse thing and the conflict being so serious. they cant really afford division right now AND YET LMFAO

we dont really get a good glimpse of f!mikey, and its hard to really say if him and f!leo's dynamic is all that positive, beyond the fact that they were willing to put it all aside for the problem in front of them (leo is so calm and resigned when mikey dies, but that doesn't really mean much. they've been soldiers for years and they've lost so much). i could honestly see losing donnie being something that fucks them up for a while, and losing raph being the thing that brings them back together; especially because i kind of like the idea of raph's death being the catalyst for leo putting everything aside and really putting his all into leadership. im both a truther of giving mikey more anger and also making f!leo such a complicated fucked up person that casey (and a lot of the rebellion by extension) dont really see the messiness of. fucked up if he was a symbol right... and raph couldnt take leadership back because they wouldnt listen to him like they would to leo right......

honestly part of the appeal of a doomed future/bad timeline is making it the worst case scenario yessir

[ningguangsworld]

Male Dragón Reader Bio

Name: Y/n

Last name: L/n

Height: 178 cm

Race: Adeptus Dragón

State: Alpha

Mate: Ningguang

Region: Liyue

Appearance:

Usual outfit:

Secondary outfit:

Weapons:

Swords:

Spear:

Catalyst:

Tattoos:

Back:

Left arm:

Dragon froms:

Oriental form:

Western form:

Dragon roar:

Likes: apples, chocolate, his fellow adepts, zhongli/morax, qiqi, spicy food, ningguang.

Dislike: liars, abyss monsters/followers, let them hurt his friends, to touch his tail or horns without his permission.

Visions: anemo, cyro and electro(they are all on the left side of your waist)

Normal attack: you make five cuts with your swords to quickly switch to your spear to make another five cuts to finally use your catalyst to attack from a distance generating anemo, cyro or electro damage.

Elemental Skill: you create an anemo element dragón that will attack the enemy. you can create up to four(you can also create them from cyro and electro)

Elemental Brust: you make consecutive cuts with your spear and then jump into the air, transforming into an elemental dragon to deliver a diving blow, generating elemental damage.

Things about Y/n:

He is a five star character.

He is a dps character.

In addion to Ganyu, he is the only adeptus who interacts with humans.

Of all Rex Lapiz's adeptus, is the strongest.

He has a small scar on his left eyebrow and an x-shaped scar on his right arm.

Some voice lines of Y/n.

Elemental Skill: |- 'get out of my way!'

Elemental Skill: ||- 'move!'

Elemental Skill: |||- 'too slow!'

Elemental Brust: |- 'time to end this'

Elemental Brust: ||- 'this teaches you a lesson'

Elemental Brust: |||- 'this is your end!'

Low Hp: |- 'it's just a scratch'

Low Hp: ||- 'you need more than to finish me'

Low Hp: |||- 'that's all?'

Fallen: |- 'l'm sorry... For failing you......'

Fallen: ||- 'So... This is my end....'

Fallen: |||- 'l will still... Be watching you...'

Hello: Greetings traveler, my name is Y/n L/n, adeptus of Rex Lapis, if you need anything please let me know l will do everything in my power to help.

Chat: Time: Time is a mysterius thing, don't you think? It's quite surprising how quickly it passes without us realizing it. Although It's sad how some things are forgotten, It's also reassuring how nations move forward to achieve a better future.

Chat: Fighting: You have a very interesting fighting style, traveler. If you have time, l will gladly teach you others fighting styles.

Scars: Oh my scars? Well, my scar on my arm can be seen with the naked eye, but it surprises me that after seeing the one on my eyebrow, you undoubtedly have a great view. Well, the one on my eyebrow was during my youth and the one on my arm was during a battle against a rather formidable enemy.

When it rains: I have always liked the rain, every time it rains it feels like the rain is singing a lullaby.

When thunder strikes: It looks like a storm is approaching, we should take cover before if gets worse.

When the sun is out: Oh the sun came out It's definitely perfect for a walk.

Good morning: Good morning traveler, l made some tea, do you want some?

Good afternoon: Greetings traveler you need me for something?

Good everning: It's better that we go back home because it's already getting dark.

Good night: Why don't you stay and rest at my house? After all tomorrow we have a lot of things to do.

About Y/n: Apart from being an adeptus of which l am very proud, l am also a great merchant of Liyue and l am the richest man in Teyvat so l have a great influence in Liyue.

About us: A great warrior worthy of admiration who seeks to achieve his goal, l dare to say that you remind me of xiao.

(Unlocks at friendship lv: 6): Whatever path you decide to follow, l will accept your decision and support you.

About visions (Unlocks at friendship lv: 4): The visions have always been a mystery to me. I still remember how l got mine. I was fighting a large horde of monsters and they outnumbered me, but those monsters were heading to Liyue and l was not going to allow them to destroy my home, so with all my strength. I continued fighting and from one moment to the next a great wade of wind drove away my enemies, a large part of the horde of monsters had frozed and a great lightning had struch and killied them and in front of me an anemo, cyro and electro visions had appeared, l suppose that people who have great determination can achieve a vision but it is just my opinion.

Something to share: Oh my swords? Well, both were a gift from lord Morax.

About the Traveler(Aether) (Unlocks at friendship lv4): Someone who is willing to face any challenge to find his sister is certainly worthy of respect and admiration.

About Paimon(Unlocks at friendship lv4): Paimon is... undoubtedly a mysterious creature since throughout my life l had never seen someone o something like her, although a small warning, Traveler, if l hear Paimon calling me a winged lizard again, l do not consider myself guilty of my actions.

About Zhongli(Unlocks at friendship lv4): Lord Zhongli is undoubtedly someone that l have a lot of respect for, he has helped me a lot in the past and although he no considers himself the geo archon, l will always be loyal to him.

About Xiao(Unlocks at friendship lv4): He is undoubtedly a great warrior and a great spear user, l find it admirable that despite being someone who suffered in the past he keeps going no matter what.

About Qiqi(Unlocks at friendship lv4): If l'm honest, sometimes l think that Qiqi is like my daughter, sometimes when l have time l go to the Baizhu pharmacy to her and l always bring her coconut milk since it is her favorite 'hehe' you can't imagine the big scandal that arose when Qiqi called me dad.

About Baizhu(Unlocks at friendship lv4): Without a doubt, he is a great pharmacist. He has cured most of my wounds.

About Hu tao(Unlocks at friendship lv4): If l had to describe Hu Tao l would say that she is the most energetic, lively and childish girl l have known in my life. It is pleasant to spend time with her although l find it somewhat annoying that she constantly wants to touch my horns without my permission, l still can't understand how Lord Morax ended up working for her.

About Yelan(Unlocks at friendship lv4): She is a good friend of mine and is a great informant. She always keeps me informant about what is happening in Liyue although she constantly wants to make bets with me.

About Ganyu(Unlocks at friendship lv4): Ganyu is like a little sister to me, after all l knew her when she was a little girl but unlike Cloud retainer l won't tell you stories about Ganyu when she was little but l can assure you that she was very adorable. As she works constantly for Ningguang the poor thing almost doesn't rest so l always have to remind her to get some rest. I should also tell Ningguang to give her more days off.

About Shenhe(Unlocks at friendship lv4): I still remember how l met her, l was next to Cloud retainer, the poor thing was quite scared and luckily we managed to calm her down. I find what her supposed father did quite unpleasant. I suppose that sometimes l don't understand humans, but now Shenhe is quite happy, although It's hard for her to understand human emotions, she's on the right track.

About Beidou(Unlocks at friendship lv4): Beidou? 'Haha!' To be honest, she is without a doubt my best friend we both always train together and to be honest her blows really hurt sometimes we go out drinking together although she is the one who always falls first l also usually pay her fines for the problems her crew sometimes causes.

About Ningguang(Unlocks at friendship lv4): You know something traveler? I think without Ningguang i would be very sad and i thought that after Miko's cheating i would never fall in love again but it seems i was wrong, i really love her, she had a really difficult chidhood but now she is Liyue's Tianquan and i couldn't be more proud of her, she deserves the whole world and l am ahle to give it to her.

About Keqing(Unlocks at friendship lv4): Like Yelan, Keqing is a good friend and i find it kind of funny how she and Ningguang argue, Keqing sometimes looks like a big angry cat 'hehe'

About Xianyun(Unlocks at friendship lv4): Cloud Retainer or Xianyun in this case is an old friend and is a great inventor. She helped me for me for many years and l am very grateful to her. She was even the one who designed my spear.

Y/n's Hobbies: Well if you are curious about what l do during my free time l really like draw.

Y/n's Troubles: Why should l get involved in a meanningless fight if there are innocent people in the crossfire?

Favorite food: It would definitely be spicy food.

Least favorite food: I'm not a big fan of sour food.

Birthday: Here you have my gift two necklaces made of crystal one for you and well one for your sister when you find her and l hope you both have a great and happy birthday.

Feeling About Ascension: Intro: It seems that my strength is returning little by little but remember we are not done yet.

Feeling About Ascension: Building Up: I feel like my power is growong every day just like the load inside my body. Please don't worry about something like this. It won't stop me or hurt me. After all, l'm a dragon.

Feeling About Ascension: Climax: It seems that my power has become even stronger, it seems that soon l will recover all my strength.

Feeling About Ascension: Conclusion: After so many years l never thought l would be able to regain all my power. I am very grateful to you my friend and if anyone gest involved with you, do not hesitate to let me know and l will show why they called me the blue lightning.

[mandos-mind-trick]

Kinktober Day 29 - Virginity

Summary: Your hunting partners offer to help you after hearing about your inexperience. 

Pairing: Quinlan Vos/reader/Asajj Ventress

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, threesome M/F/F, lesbian sex, unprotected sex, virgin!reader, virginity, inappropriate use of the Force, first time sex, oral sex, fingering.

A/N: I was going to do something different today but after everything I’ve written this month it seemed like too big of an undertaking. So enjoy this dream team threesome instead.

MASTERLIST

(Image found on Google)

You wouldn’t be surprised if there was steam roiling off your skin from how hot you feel. Between your lack of pants and the confession that had just come from your lips, you may combust at any moment.

You can’t look them in the eye. You can’t look at them at all. 

You can’t bear to see the horrified looks, the disappointment. You’re tense, waiting for the laughter, the jokes, the teasing. 

“You’ve...what?”

The disbelief hits almost the hardest. 

“Don’t be rude.” The smooth, sultry voice of your other partner is almost gentle in tone. You can almost see the way her eyes flash in warning despite your gaze being locked to the metal floor to your right. 

“I’m not being rude, I’m just...shocked. How can an absolute babe never have...not even...have you at least been kissed before?” 

“As a joke.” You murmur the words but they seem to echo through the quiet hull. “A boy in my class was dared by his friends to kiss me.” 

It falls silent between the three of you once more. You keep your gaze averted, shame and embarrassment burning under your skin still. You pull your knees to your chest, wary of the blaster wound on your thigh. 

That was what got you into this predicament in the first place. 

The hunt had gone well, despite the fact you got shot. The removal of your pants to clean the wound had been the catalyst to the events, your face already burning by the time they had been tugged down to your ankles. Quinlan’s calloused fingers on your bare thigh had practically done you in, and then the invitation to drink to a successful hunt as was tradition had been the nail in your coffin. 

The topic had come up, and the slight buzz of alcohol in your body had driven you to admitting your complete inexperience while sitting in nothing but your shirt and your panties. 

You can almost hear the silent conversation between them, something they do often. You know they’re...different. They can use lightsabers, do things normal people like you can’t. They have stronger senses, cat-like reflexes. Their honest shock at your confession is the only indicator that they can’t just read your mind like a holonovel. 

You feel so very...plain compared to them. 

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Ventress says, shifting closer to you. “Like Quinlan said, we’re more surprised no one has ever jumped at the opportunity.” 

“No one’s ever even looked at me like that.” You say, finally lifting your gaze to hers. 

“They’re a bunch of fools.” She says, shifting even closer, her hand brushing your heated cheek. Her fingers feel cold against your heated skin. They’re always cold, but even more so with the blood rushing under your skin. 

Your heart is thumping in your chest at her proximity. You feel nervous, your palms starting to sweat. You’ve been this close to her many times. It’s never felt like this before. There’s an energy between you, like an electrical charge. You can feel it pulsing under your skin. 

Your little crush on them can’t be a secret. Not to them. It hadn’t taken long for you to fall for both of them, but you had never planned on revealing anything to them. You were more than happy to suffer in silence, doing nothing but watching and occasionally hearing. You’d take the playful teasing Quinlan and occasionally Ventress subjected you to. It was the closest you thought you’d ever get. 

“We could do it for you.” Quinlan says, both yours and Ventress’ gazes snapping to him as he sits there, a playful smirk on his face. “If you wanted.” 

“Would you like that?” Ventress asks, her voice taking on the sultry tone she used with quarries when she flirted so effortlessly with them. “Would you want one of us to give you some...experience?” 

The alcohol pumping through your system wants you to scream yes. You want to scream yes too, but you’ve hit a dilemma. Who would you want to do it? You trust both of them, and you want both of them. 

Ventress hums, leaning down close to your face. “Sleep on it.” Her breath fans your ear. “We’ll talk about it again when you’re sober.” Her lips press against your cheek, cool and soft against your warm skin. 

You’re a little disappointed as she pulls away, but you know she’s right. You’d rather think this over sober, and you know they don’t want to feel like they’re taking advantage of you, or that you might regret it in the morning. 

***

The alcohol was the only thing that helped you actually sleep. Your mind had raced until it lulled itself to sleep with thoughts of the events that had just transpired. You remember it all when you wake, every word, every bit of the conversation. You don’t rise right away as you usually do, instead you take the time to really think about their offer. 

They were offering to fuck you. One of them would wipe the label of virgin from you for good, and they wanted to. No jokes, no tricks, no teasing. You had felt the sincerity in their words. They cared enough to want you to make the decision sober. 

That was the hard part, though. Choosing one of them. 

Quinlan was likely to be the most romantic of the two. Perhaps more gentle and easygoing about it. Though, from the things you’ve heard and how he fights...it makes you a little afraid. Ventress oozes passion and dominance, but you know how ruthless and fierce she can be. You know neither of them would hurt you on purpose. They would take care of you. 

Then the image of both of them pops into your head. Quinlan’s strong chest against your back, Ventress’ lithe body pressed against your front, both of their hands and mouths on you. Heat blooms between your thighs, your legs pressing tightly together under the blankets. Would they be willing to both be involved? They’re already familiar with each other, and they’re willing to at least allow this to happen. 

The only way you’ll know is if you ask. 

Heat blooms under your skin again as you toss off your blanket, rising from your makeshift bunk. You climb down into the hull where you know they have to be, the confidence that had surged through you suddenly disappears as your feet hit the metal. They had been training, Quinlan’s chest bare, his dark skin beaded with sweat. 

You swallow thickly, trying to keep the quickly waning confidence as you approach them. 

“I want you both.” You say, your voice shaking as you stand before them. You curse it and your nerves. “I want you both to...to take my virginity.”

They share a look, a million words being shared in a short moment as they silently communicate. They turn back to you, matching smirks lifting their lips. They slowly step towards you and your heart begins to race even faster. You wonder if this is how the quarries feel when they’re being cornered. 

“You really want us both?” Quinlan asks, stepping around you until he’s hovering behind you. You can feel the heat radiating off his chest. 

“Yes.” You say, voice breathy as Ventress closes the distance in front of you, her fingers lifting to grip your chin. “I-I have...for a while.” 

Ventress’ smirk widens as she stares at you. “We know. We were waiting for you to say something, but after your confession last night we realized why you’ve never said anything until now.” 

You jump as hands close around your waist, Quinlan’s breath fanning your ear. “We didn’t realize you were so innocent. We thought you were just a shy little thing.” 

Blood is rushing in your ears from being so close to both of them, your head swimming. You feel like you might pass out, like your legs might give out and they’ve barely touched you. 

Ventress leans in closer, her breath fanning your lips. “Let’s move this somewhere more comfortable.” 

You let out a yelp of surprise as suddenly you’re off the ground and in Quinlan’s arms. You’re silently grateful he’s carrying you, as you doubt you could get your legs to move without crumpling to the floor. 

They take you to their bunk, a space you’ve only seen in passing. It’s comfortable, obviously having been remodeled a bit. Quinlan sits you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress firm under you. It’s nicer than yours, though your bed was sort of pieced together last minute. You weren’t supposed to stay with them very long, but it’s been months now and they haven’t once asked you about leaving. 

You suppose that’s not something you’ll have to worry about after today. 

Quinlan kneels down in front of you, one hand cupping your cheek. His skin is warm, and he smells a bit like sweat from his training session. “Don’t worry.” He says, obviously picking up on the nerves squirming in your stomach. “We’ll take care of you.” He leans in, breath fanning your face before he closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours. 

It’s softer than the only other kiss you’ve had in your life. You’re not sure what to do, the thousands of holofilms you’ve seen suddenly disappearing from your mind as Quinlan kisses you. He presses closer to you, tilting his head as he deepens the kiss. Your hands close around his arms, his muscles flexing as he wraps his arms around you. 

You’re panting as he’s suddenly pulled from your mouth, Ventress standing over you both. “You got your kiss.” She says, tugging him away from you. “Now it’s my turn.” 

Nerves and excitement tangle together in your stomach as Quinlan backs away from you, allowing Ventress to take his place. She’s removed most of her clothes, your cheeks warming as your eyes trail her body. Tattoos line her pale skin, sloping over curves and strong muscle. More heat pools between your legs as you stare at her, warmth blooming across your face as you meet her gaze. 

“Like what you see?” She almost purrs, reaching out to cup your chin again. 

You nod, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. “Yes.” 

She smirks, cool fingers stroking your skin. “Good girl.” 

Something shocks through you at her words, your thighs clenching in excitement. 

“I think she liked that.” Quinlan says, stepping up behind her. His arms wrap around her waist, lips trailing across her shoulder. 

Ventress hums, eyes lidded as she stares down at you. “I agree.” Her eyes quickly trail your form. “Take off your shirt.” 

Your fingers tremble as they reach for the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head. Your skin warms even more as you find yourself in nothing but your underwear and breastband in front of them. 

“And your breastband.” Ventress says, her hands coming to rest against Quinlan’s on her stomach. 

You can’t hide the shake of your hands as you slowly pull your breastband off, dropping it on the floor with your shirt. You force yourself to meet their gaze again, both of them staring down at you appreciatively. 

“Beautiful.” Quinlan groans, his chin resting on Ventress’ shoulder as he stares at you. “If I knew she was this hot, I would have suggested this sooner.” 

You grow bashful under their stare, Ventress slipping from Quinlan’s hold to move closer to you. 

“On the bed.” She orders, your body moving before you even realize it. 

You push yourself back until you’re in the center of the bed, goosebumps forming on your skin as Ventress kneels on the end of the bed, crawling toward you like a dangerous predator. You’re forced onto your back as she crawls over your body until you’re face to face. She hovers over you, nerves and excitement rushing through you again. 

“Relax.” She whispers, lowering herself until her lips are brushing yours. “We’re going to take good care of you.” 

Her lips are cool and soft as they press against yours, her tongue licking at your lips. Your lips part, allowing her in as she presses her body against yours, skin smooth and cool against your own heated body. 

Your head begins to buzz as she kisses her way down your neck, licking and nipping at the skin. She continues to kiss her way down your body until she reaches the waistband of your underwear. Her fingers trail the skin right above it, goosebumps forming on your skin again. Her lips lift in a smirk as she dips her fingers below the waistband, sitting up to tug your underwear down your thighs. She tosses them behind her before trailing her hands back up your legs. 

She parts your thighs, baring your post private parts to her eyes. You’re already damp, folds slick with arousal. “Have you ever touched yourself?” She asks, dragging her fingers up your inner thighs. 

“O-Once.” You swallow thickly, legs trembling as she reaches the junction of your thighs. It was one of the nights you heard them. The lust and the yearning had gotten to be too much and you’d silently slipped a hand into your underwear. 

“Did you make yourself cum?” She asks with a smirk, watching your face as she ghosts her thumb over your clit. 

“Yes!” You gasp, a tingling feeling burning through you as she circles your clit with her thumb. It’s so different from your own touch, so different from being under your own control. 

Your hands grip the sheets as she slips a finger lower, prodding at your entrance. It’s a strange sensation as her finger pushes into you, your walls gripping her tightly. 

“Such a tight little thing.” She murmurs, lowering herself until her mouth is level with your clit. 

You watch with parted lips as her tongue darts out, the tip flicking your clit. You let out a quiet sound at the sensation as her tongue circles the sensitive bud, her finger slowly thrusting into you, working you open. 

The end of the bed dips as Quinlan kneels behind Ventress, his pants gone. Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock between his legs. It’s big and hard, your pussy clenching at the thought of fitting that inside you. 

Ventress pulls away from your clit, turning her head to look back at Quinlan. “I think she likes you.” She says, letting Quinlan lift her hips up so she’s on her knees. 

“How tight is she?” He asks, smoothing a hand across Ventress’ back. 

“You’d split her right down the middle.” Ventress says, a second finger prodding at your entrance. 

“You’ve got some work to do.” Quinlan says, his own hand slipping between Ventress’ thighs. 

You clamp around Ventress’ fingers as she works a second one into you. She presses a gentle kiss to your clit, slowly sinking her fingers into you. “Relax. It’ll hurt if you’re too tense.” 

You let out a shaky breath, trying to relax your body as she returns to sucking at your clit. Quiet moans vibrate through you as Quinlan teases her slick folds, his eyes meeting yours as he works her up. 

You feel warm for an entirely different reason now, heat pooling in your stomach as Ventress sucks and licks at your clit. Quiet sounds slip through your lips, your hands gripping onto the sheets as pleasure burns through you. 

“Don’t hold back.” Ventress says with a gasp as Quinlan sinks his cock into her. “Let me hear you.” 

She curls her fingers, hitting something deep inside you. A sound you weren’t sure you could even make leaves your lips, white hot pleasure burning through you. Your thighs try to clamp around her face but they’re suddenly pushed open, unable to move. You stare down at Ventress with wide eyes, her own shining with a mischievous glint. 

Quinlan’s hands grip her hips as he begins to move, thrusting into her. She moans into your pussy, focusing her efforts on your clit as she works you open. Your back arches, body writhing uncontrollably as pleasure continues to build within you. You feel like you’re hurtling towards a cliff and you can’t stop. You’re going to fall off the edge and there’s nothing you can do to change the direction. 

Ventress curls her fingers inside you again and suddenly you’re falling over the edge, body shaking as you cum around her fingers. It’s a bit uncomfortable as she pulls her fingers from you, your pussy spasming and fluttering around nothing. She laps at your entrance, tasting your cum on her tongue as Quinlan continues to fuck her. 

Her hands wrap around your thighs, holding on as Quinlan picks up his pace, the sound of his skin meeting hers loud in the room. You watch them, unable to do anything but lay there as they fuck, pinned under the awe and beauty of Ventress’ pleasure and the Force still holding your thighs open. 

Ventress’ eyes roll back as she lets out a loud moan, her nails digging into your thighs. Her back arches, pressing back against Quinlan. You can see the slight shake to her thighs as Quinlan pulls free from her, hands holding her steady as she cums. 

Her cheek rests against your thigh as she comes down from her high, arousal already slicking your folds once more. The pressure holding your thighs in place releases, your legs flopping uselessly to the bed. Quinlan gently rubs Ventress’ back as she catches her breath, her lips pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. 

“Are you ready?” She asks, pushing herself up onto her hands and knees. 

Your eyes dart nervously to Quinlan’s still hard cock, the skin glistening with Ventress’ juices. You gulp before nodding, letting your gaze flick back to Ventress. 

“Don’t be nervous.” She soothes you, crawling up towards your head. “We’ll make it as comfortable as we can.” 

She slips behind you, reclining back against the headboard. She wraps her arms around you, tugging you back against her chest. She parts your thighs over her own, holding you open for Quinlan to see. He crawls between your thighs, eyes glued to your slick folds. Your face warms as his hands slide up your thighs, thumbs parting your lips. 

“How does she taste?” He asks, voice low and gruff. 

“Sweet.” Ventress asks, gripping the back of his neck as he leans over you, kissing her. 

He groans against her lips, their kiss all tongues and teeth, your lips parting as you watch them kiss over you. You gasp as Quinlan’s fingers drag through your folds, a thick finger prodding your entrance. The sensation is very different as he presses a finger into you, sliding in easily after Ventress’ work opening you up. 

He groans against her lips again, nipping at her bottom lip as he pulls away, thrusting his finger into you. “You were right, she is a tight little thing.”

He works a second finger into you, stretching you further than Ventress did. It’s a bit uncomfortable at first, but Ventress’ hands cup your breasts, fingers brushing over your nipples sending sparks of pleasure straight between your legs. She continues her ministrations as Quinlan withdraws his fingers from your pussy, stroking them over his cock, slicking it with your juices. 

Ventress leans down to your ear, her breath fanning your skin. “Relax.” One of her hands slides across your stomach, trying to ease the tension in your body as Quinlan settles between your legs. 

“Ready?” He asks, looking at you as he drags his cock through your folds. 

You nod, letting out a shaky breath. One of his hands settles on your hip, thumb stroking your skin as he lines himself up, pressing into your tight hole. You gasp at the sensation, body jolting from the burning stretch as he pushes inside. Ventress wraps her arms around your chest, whispering quiet praises in your ear as Quinlan works his way into you slowly. 

“Good girl.” His voice rumbles in your ears, his hands stroking your skin as he slowly eases into you. “You alright?” 

You nod, chest heaving at the sensation of him being inside of you. It’s almost too much, the uncomfortable burning stretch and the knowledge of what was happening. It’s not painful, though, like you heard it could be sometimes. 

Quinlan breathes out a curse as he seats himself fully inside you, his hips stilling. 

“Don’t cum too soon.” Ventress says slyly. “We don’t want her first time to be a disappointment.” 

Quinlan lifts his gaze to her, a smirk on his lips. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. It’s our sweet girl I’m worried about.” He says, lifting his hand to your chin, his thumb brushing your lower lip. 

“I’m fine.” You gasp out, body slowly relaxing around his cock. Your skin is slick with sweat, sweat beading on Quinlan’s forehead as well.

“Good.” He says, lowering his hands to your hips. 

Ventress relaxes her hold on you as Quinlan pulls back, drawing his cock from inside you before pushing back in. You gasp at the sensation, watching his cock move in and out of you. Ventress returns her attention to your breasts, teasing your nipples as Quinlan moves inside you. 

It’s better than you thought it ever could be, sandwiched between them as they bring you pleasure you’ve never known before. Your trust for them only continues to grow as they do as they promised, making it as easy and painless as possible. Even if this is the only time you get to do this with them, you’re glad it happened. Months of pining and tension are released as they work you up, Quinlan’s thrusts picking up speed as Ventress focuses her attention on your sensitive clit. You can’t do anything but moan and shake between them, letting them play your body like an instrument as they hit all the right spots. 

“Let go for me.” Quinlan grunts, his grip on your hips tight, thrusts starting to get sloppy. “Let me feel you cum.” 

You arch back against Ventress, letting out another sound you didn’t know you were capable of as you cum, fluttering around Quinlan’s cock. He groans, pulling himself from inside you as his hand takes over, jerking himself until he cums on your stomach. 

You’re still shaking from your orgasm as Ventress wipes your stomach clean with the sheets, Quinlan maneuvering your body until you’re on your side between them, Ventress pressed up against your back. Quinlan reaches across you to wrap his arm around Ventress, sandwiching you between them again. 

It falls silent between you for a moment, your mind processing what had just happened. Ventress’ fingers draw lazy patterns on your hip, Quinlan’s arm tightening just slightly around both of you. 

“I think we should keep her.” Ventress says, breaking the silence. 

Quinlan grins, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, then he leans over you to kiss Ventress. “I agree.” He lays back down, eyes shining with something you can’t quite name as he stares at you. “Our sweet girl.” 

Ragu list:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit@littlemissmanga @madameminor @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @sinfulsalutations @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @commanderblood @crosshairlovebot @ghostperson69 @jediknightjana @jedi-hawkins @dalu-grantkylo

[clandestine-j]

the literal 911 leaker on reddit has already confirmed that buck and tommy are not endgame. They literally said and I quote "No. He's a chess piece that got moved from Eddie to Buck. A catalyst for either of their queerness. I'm saving you time." when someone asked them if buck and tommy are gonna be endgame

This leaker has also gotten everything they posted right as well. They were the ones that first broke the news months before it happened that Buck was gonna be bisexual, so they clearly know many people in production including writers. Since we know S8 is beign written and they posted this today.

so sounds like buck and tommy isn't going to last which i guess is fine but once tommy leaves i'm not watching anymroe. I have no reason to doubt this leaker everything they've posted has come true.

They posted Natalia not coming back, Buck being bi, Marisol being bones, Chris leaving for a time period, Gerrard coming back, like nothing they have said has been false. So now I'm bracing myself and just gonna enjoy Buck and Tommy while we still have them.

Hmm, I don't know much about the -1-1 leaker. I'm on the subreddit for it but I guess I didn't dig deep enough.

I think I could believe that, if this was coming out after they filmed and got scripts. They're still on break right? Like, the info they got, was info after the script had been settled. I've chatted with some friends and they feel like, everything the leaker 'leaked' could've been figured out pretty easily. That's their view. Another view, they just feel like the leaker is saying this to get us Tommy fans to stop talking about and enjoying him.

But also, I don't need Buck and Tommy to be endgame? Would I enjoy, hell yeah!

But my personal issue has never been Buck and Tommy being endgame. Unlike most, I didn't hate all of Buck's previous love interest. I liked Abby for what she was needed for, I didn't enjoy Taylor fully but I get it wasn't all bad. I did enjoy Ali and was sad she had such a short run. And I thought, Natalia could've been cool but they wasted her.

I won't ever stop watching the show because the ship is over but I also don't shame for moving on! If you're not vibing with what you're watching, then do you and don't be feel bad about.

But back to the point, my issue never was Buck and Tommy not being end game.

It was the buddie or bust fans not allowing us to ENJOY the ship. It was the buddie or bust fans, accusing us of being fake buddie fans because we DARED to enjoy another Buck ship. It was buddie or bust fans shitting on Tommy in his tag and calling him a plot device. It was the buddie or bust fans, CONSTANTLY shoving buddie down our throats with a fanon ship while shitting on a canon one. My issue was was the ao3 tags being tagged as Buck/Tommy just so they can dump have him dumed and be with Eddie. My issue was buddie or bust fans getting upset that people didn't include queer Eddie while they shitted on a canon GAY man. My issue was buddie or bust fans pretending as if Buck wasn't a sexually, kinky guy because it's with Tommy now but will write the kinkiest fanfics. My issue was them treating Tommy like this predator or acting like a gay man can't have friends without trying to get with him, while he knows said man is straight and has a girlfriend.

That's why I'm so defensive over Buck and Tommy, because they'll cry and run love interest off until the cows come home for buddie but get upset when WE want to enjoy a relationship.

Maybe Buck and Tommy don't last but nothing shows that they're gonna drop him 3 episodes into season 8. I just want to enjoy it. That's it.

So, don't worry yourself too much. We don't know what will happen but we CAN demand, that we're allowed to enjoy Buck and Tommy without them freaking out because people dared to enjoy a relationship.

[cliffs-sniperrifle]

Kojima's perception of big boss and clifford unger: the relationship between mother and son

Where best to start than with big boss. The catalyst for big boss becoming the man he was, was none other than his only figure, his 'mother' the boss being killed by his own hands. From then on in the serious, he takes a serious change in character that leaves him spiraling until his mother’s grave is the only place to feel loved.

Kojima decides that one of the many ways to show big boss's attachment to the boss is having him carve out that same c-section scar that she had. We already know of its importance of the scar from the boss as she had explained America already had taken everything from her, including her son, so there was nothing left for her to do except give her life (hence leaving john to take it) it's an interesting choice that big boss decides to take that scar from her and put it on himself, the exact same pattern of the botched c-section (like a snake). Later we find out that eva had volunteered to have big boss's children through his cells and using her as an incubator.

Now talking about Cliff. While Cliff was married to Lisa who had gotten pregnant around the time of the first death stranding happening, she got into a fatal car crash that essentially left her braindead and in a coma. The child was able to be saved and put into the BB program, incubated while Cliff constantly visited BB and Lisa in the hospital room. From then on Cliff was thrown into a role of both mother and father, sharing stories of his life and talking to Lisa in front of BB. But when it was found out that the BB program was going to take BB from Cliff and never giving it the chance to be born, Cliff, even after death vowed to set his child free.

The moment Cliff and BB were killed, set off a chain of events, but most importantly changes that effect how both Sam and Cliff are perceived. They both ended up being shot right in the abdomen, connecting them not only as father and son, but through death as a string.

But dare I even say connected as mother and unborn child. I say this because of the constant parallels put in the game. Kojima describing Cliffs cords as umbilical cords as well as holding a misconstrued version of his BB whenever he shows up as a BT ghost. Sam swimming in the waters of the beach every time he 'dies', flaoting like a baby in the womb. Connected by other BTs by cords adjacent to umbilical cords. It's hard to just see these things being put in as a coincidence when this can be heavily interpreted as a relationship between a pregnant mother and her baby, even sam shows this behavior passed down with him and Lou. Connecting with her through the cord hooked up (umbilical cord) viewing his memories through her. Being possessive when people try and take her from him or even being separated for too long. That C-section like scar that he shares with Cliff. And what tops it off is how the typical mothers in both of these relationships are never shown. Lisa was already in a coma when we see her and Lucy has been dead before the game even started. They are important figures in Sam and Cliff's relationship but aren't important to focus on them being mothers, rather than mother imagery and symbolism being used on Sam and Cliff instead.

C-section like scars for reference:

I just find it extremely interesting that Kojima has now TWICE used this imagery for important male figures in his games that tie down to deeper symbolism than at first glance, just viewing it as "coincidental" scars in the same places but not really understanding the purpose and place of the scars.

Big boss has the scar to symbolize his deep unhealthy attachment to the boss and his twisted vision of who and what she stood for. He carries her to her own grave, his love for her was never surpassed by anyone else.

Cliff's scar is not only there as a reminder of how he and Sam are connected by amelie and john (by proxy) but that deep connection that exists between a pregnant mother and that unborn child.

[aurum-rays]

When you rewatch most childhood movies, the cult classics, the nostalgia rides, I realize how sexist and problematic they were, and I was secretly hoping Veer Zaara wasn't one of them (I watched it when I was like 10 so I don't remember). This movie surprised me.

Veer Zaara features strong, resilient female characters. Be it our protagonist Zaara played by Preity Zinta or the catalysts of the love story Saamiya (Rani Mukherjee) and Shabbo (Divya Dutta) or even Zaara’s mother (Kirron Kher) and her Bebe (Zohra Sehgal).

Zaara Hayaat Khan is a feminist, one who is against the societal norms laid for a woman. It's refreshing to see this in her introductory song "Hum to bhai jese hai wese rahengey" sung beautifully by Lata ji, but as this 3 hour musical drama progresses it gets disappointing to see Zaara whittle herself away to the same norms she was against in the first place.

Everyone around her constantly tells her it's her responsibility to be a good wife and a good mother and to guard the respect of their families. Zaara crosses the border to fulfill a final wish of her ‘BeBe’(grandmother) all by herself.

In the midst of a rescue operation, she demands her things be lifted off along with her all while hanging on to an Air Force professional in his uniform.

She pushes the crowded men away and speaks with authority "I have a ticket and I need to get on this bus". In all these instances Zaara is scared yet heroic. She phones her mother and tells her that all her life she didn't do anything and probably won't in the future too and will probably end up being just like her mother - a good wife and a good mother, so she wants to do this one thing so she can respect herself. This is what irked me. I understand she's from an orthodox family but she can still have dreams and ambitions. From the start of the movie, she is portrayed as a rebel, one who doesn't comply with societal norms and laughs in the face of stereotypes. I can only imagine how curious she would have been as a child. That alone is enough to give her some dreams.

She fearlessly tells Amitabh's character what he is doing is unfair to the girls. If I went to someone’s house for a day especially someone I barely knew, I wouldn't even dare to question their acts. Zaara does and she makes him spellbound. She doesn't go “I'm just here for one day so I’ll just mind my own business and leave”. She questions the injustice. "Imagine what girls could do if they were given the right education. Some of them might even surpass Veer".

I loved Zaara in all these scenes. She fearlessly stands up against mistreatment and calls them out no matter who the other person is. All this makes you root for her until it doesn't.

In a scene where Saamiya visits Veer's (Shahrukh Khan) hometown and finds Zaara there, she says to Shabbo "Yeh kis sadi ke log hai… ?" (transl. “Which century are these people from?”)

That's exactly how I felt too. “Kon hai ye log? Kahan se aate hai?”( transl. Who are these people? Where do they come from?) Spending their whole lives in the name of the person they never got to be with. Sacrificing everything and working to fulfill someone else’s dream. Zaara has always been that kind of person. She crosses borders to fulfill her bebe's wish and gives all her life to fulfill Veer and his Tau’s wish. She keeps doing everything for others. She spends her life making others’ dreams come true. She lives her life in the memory of her lover. This also reminded me of Sita aka Princess Noor Jahan from Sitaramam (also maybe Madarasipattinam's Amy).

If Saamiya saw these women she'd again say "Kon hai ye log?"

Even after decades of releasing love stories on-screen this "sacrificing" trope hasn't changed and remains to be a classic which I am not a big fan of. Why do these characters not have any characterization of their own? (Zaara) even if they do, it all changes when a man comes into her life (Sita/Noor Jahan). Ultimately the heroine has to either die or spend her whole life in the memory of her Romeo. (Remember what Mr. Dashwood says to Jo in 2019’s Little Women?)

Maybe I don't understand love stories. Maybe I don't understand love? I don't know. But I think in real life none of us are that insane to write our whole life in someone else’s name and live and breathe just reminiscing our lost lovers, at least I am not. Maybe that is why these movies will remain classics because they are too insane to happen in real life.

[oopsgracie]

my thoughts on loki season two so far…

i’m really struggling with this season of loki because i want to love it but why so many filler episodes? i feel like this did nothing to develop plot or relationships or even loki as a character. true, i do like the whole OB as a science teacher come wannabe bestseller and his role in helping loki control time slipping, and i enjoyed seeing their original timelines but i feel like this could have been done differently, perhaps not in less time, but in a way that made it feel like loki genuinely connects with these people. i don’t remember him having a conversation with b-15 about anything other than the T.V.A, similar situation when it comes to casey although they’ve had more screen time together. if his life’s new glorious purpose is wanting to reunite his friends and restore order, then put some effort into making their bonds with loki and each other more authentic?

can we also talk about why sylvie and loki weren’t reset, i know this might be answered next episode, i just hope it doesn’t become a plot hole.

we’re so often reminded that he’s a god, but it seems to be that everybody else has forgotten he’s the god of mischief, chaos, that this man invaded the whole of new york less than a month ago. with some good character development, or even a plot in which he questions his choices and desires and finds this motivation within himself later, maybe i could believe that he truly wants to restore what he has always sought to remove, but i feel like the loki i saw in this episode is no different to the loki i met at the end of season one, or even s2ep1, when his biggest concern was sylvie’s wellbeing, except that he’s done a one eighty in what he believes and has become this blindly led hero figure.

also loki and sylvie in general, i know it’s unpopular (coming from somebody that really loved their relationship) but also integral to the first season. you can’t erase a relationship that has already driven the plot of six episodes and dare i say most of loki’s character development? except apparently you can, because that seems to be what the writers have chosen to do. push any kind of tension you like, have him hate her for what she did, have him try to do everything without her and fail, but at least give them some screen time? what happened to her being his glorious purpose? what happened to finding a place on the timeline together? what happened? i love mobius and OB, but they don’t replace the dynamic of two loki variants trying to navigate the ideas of a multiverse, order against chaos and what it means to be loved. that’s what made season one so compelling and now it’s been replaced with a vapid quest to fix up a rusty old loom. i don’t know if people who disliked their relationship were listened to and that was the catalyst for such a change, and i get that it’s not for everyone, but if that’s the decision they came to at least break it off in a way that works with the storyline rather than immediately end it with no explanation. no character has mentioned how they’re feeling after everything’s gone down and with such clear moments in which these conversations could have been had, they just didn’t. the pie room— with both sylvie and mobius, the bar scene, the ferris wheel. i feel like i’ve heard sylvie say the same few lines over and over again, that she hates the T.V.A, hates HWR, wants to be free from the time fascists and make her own choices and then she leaves. even after loki speaks of thor, they talk but they don’t say anything that’s hasn’t already been understood. it goes nowhere and feels unsatisfying, like we’re going round in circles which ironically, but i suspect unintentionally, seems quite fitting with the story.

this season has its moments, i just wanted something of substance.

that’s not to say i don’t enjoy watching it, any loki content is content i’ll find joy in and i truly love the concept of this season, exploring time loops and the ouroboros, how terrifying kang is made out to be, sylvie realising she needs the T.V.A, science and time-travel to hunt down a rogue miss minutes and renslayer (who doesn’t love loki in a suit?), but i think that what matters (loki, his development and his relationships) has been executed poorly, sacrificed to advance the MCU rather than the series, which seems a shame when they had already been so well established coming into the second season, or maybe my expectations were just too high. i almost hope they don’t push any intense friendship/love interest moments in the final episode when it’s all been so neglected.

absolutely no hate to those who feel differently i just needed somewhere to point out all my frustrations :)

[starfall-spirit]

Day 5: Nature

Summary: Over the past few years, Elain has learned to grow many types of plants. When Lucien is sick in bed, Elain can't help but use her growing expertise to tend to him.

AN: Starting this fine Thursday off with an Elucien drabble. Be aware, I have never written a sickfic, even though I posted Tuesday, this is technically the first Elucien thing I wrote, and my knowledge of herbal remedies comes from Google. In short, I hope this doesn't suck.

Word Count: 755

Elain had been a faerie for nearly five years now. If there was one thing she had learned in that time, it’s that very little separated fae males from human men, when it came down to it. In other words, no matter what race a male may be, he became an absolute toddler when he fell ill. 

Lucien was no exception to nature’s flaws.

He had been working hard lately, juggling his duties to Night and the human lands as well as assisting Spring’s recovery. Its High Lord had finally come to accept reality in the past few months. The pieces of his court were starting to mend, albeit slowly. And Lucien for whatever reason put himself in the middle of it all. And she could feel the toll it took with five courts between them.

And when he returned to Night… that bond between them was a curse. At least she wanted to call it that. But after five years her mentality had begun to shift. Perhaps it was how disgustingly happy her sisters seemed with Cassian and Rhys. Perhaps it was some faerie breeding instinct, as Feyre had once admitted when Elain dared ask what was expected of her when it came to the bond. If she was required to accept Lucien. Or perhaps it was something she was entirely too afraid to admit. Lucien was courteous to her wishes, charming when they did speak on occasion, respectful to her and every other female she’d seen him near—which was more than she could say of most human men.

So that was why with him near and unwell she felt the need to… help.

It was just a common cold of course. Nothing he should be acting as if he was dying over. But the strain of his travels and work had weakened his body and the “male bonding”, also known as Feyre pushing Rhys and his brothers to invite Lucien to their annual snowball fight so relationships could be mending from all sides, had been the catalyst. Even fae bodies needed time to recuperate and Lucien hadn’t been respecting his health enough.

She stood from her seat, leaving her book on the bench to head down to the kitchen where she knew Nuala was working. Having learned the cultures of the fae, Elain knew better than to cook anything herself, but she was sure Nuala would help her with that much.

“Elain,” the wraith greeted her. “Can I get you anything?”

“I thought you might help me prepare something for Lucien. A broth, perhaps.”

Nuala gave a hint of a smile. “Of course.” Without further comment, she set to work over the stove, leaving Elain to her own business. In her research and experimentation over the past few years, Elain had learned quite a bit about growing and preserving medicinal herbs. The aerial portion of the echinacea was beneficial in curing common ailments such as this, strengthening the immune system among other things. A tea would be just fine.

A few moments later she had everything plated and gathered on a tray, easy enough to carry to the room Lucien was keeping upstairs. Adjusting the tray against her hip, she gave a soft knock on his door. “Come in.” The second she stepped into the room his attention zeroed in on the broth and tea. “Elain—”

“All I touched was the herb for the tea.”

His posture eased and he set his book aside, nose scrunching a bit. “Herb?”

“Echinacea,” she confirmed, amused by his skepticism for traditional medicine. “Your immune system was weakened by stress and overexertion. Human medicine may seem simple compared to fancy healing magic, but it still gets the job done.” She set the tray in his lap with a smile. “So, broth and herbal tea for you. I hope you feel better soon.”

“Wait,” he called as she turned for the door. She cocked her head. “I’m not contagious at this point if you’d like to stay? Talk for a while. Your sister feels bad for sending me out in the cold and sent a heap of books this morning, if you’d prefer silence.” 

She nodded, warily settling in the chair beside the bed. He passed her one of the books from his bedside table. “Feyre told me once that all the old fables and tales have been washed from human history. Care to read a few?”

Sitting in silence once more, Elain began to read, for the first time in a long time feeling at peace.

~~~~~

General/Elucien taglist: Reach out to be added or removed.

@elucienweekofficial // @goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @vulpes-fennec // @headcanonheadcase // @aldbooks // @panicatthenightcourt // @corcracrow // @jennity-blog // @thelovelymadone

[cherish--these--times]

Rebecca being pursued by a guy she had a classic meet-cute with causing a little bit of jealousy and resulting in the third truth bomb when Ted & Rebecca realize they have feelings for each other and have to confront it?? Now THAT'S rom-communism

It could be a catalyst, certainly! A way for Ted to face his feelings. I do wonder what jealousy would look like on him... I don't see it handled in a typical way. I don't see him getting angry or resentful. A clever way to do something a bit different with that would be for him to remain nice about it. I think he would repress it, likes he does with a lot of things. I might as well just come out with it, I think he already has! I think he always was unsettled with the idea of Rebecca getting romantic with somebody else. I'm talking about the Sam situation. He handled it with a lot of grace, and only showed support, respect, and friendship. Not claiming any differently. Yet I always thought two things were suspicious, which could be classified as intentional on the writers' part:

His phrasing when he hears the news:

"I think that's great. Hold on. Wait. No… Yes. Yeah, I do. No, I think that's fine."

My meagre knowledge of psychology is tempted to tell me: he ain't fine with it one bit... And he was stalling by asking if it was Samuel L. Jackson... He didn't want to hear it. Now is it because he knew instantly it could be potentially bad for the club, very possible!

2. His gaze after she left. With a soft, dare I say it, wistful music in the background.

There was absolutely zero need to show Ted staring at her retreating back after she left, unless there was some significance there. What is the significance? Who knows. But I can't help but think this show was designed so that if we watch it all again a second time after we know how it ends, it will all make sense. Imagine watching this again knowing a year later they will be together. This makes this scene..... Utterly enchanting.

If Rebecca starts dating Dutch Guy and Ted comes to realise that the reason why he wants to hang out with his boss is because he fell for her, I could see him confide in Beard and not say a thing to her because he wouldn't want to jeopardize her happiness. It wouldn't end there, maybe she would come to him instead and her final truth bomb would be admitting her feelings for him after everything clicked in her head. And BOOM. Bye bye, Dutch Guy! You'll always have Amsterdam. Haha!

I love discussing this. I really have no idea what's gonna happen but I appreciate the quality of storytelling immensely. Regardless of what happens, if the writers have decided not to have them officially fall in love just yet, there is plenty already for us to make them so for the rest of time :D