#does the ^^; emote before shooting you in the head several times

[cloudofsoup]

peppino’s walking animation w/ a pistol is literally my favorite in the whole game. why does he look like that. what a pathetic and whimsical man

[strangersteddierthings]

Eddie blinks. Once. Twice. And a third time for good measure. The scene before him doesn't change. Steve Harrington stands off to the side of the lunch table, behind Jeff and Frankie who have both gone still as statues like they think if they don't move, King Steve won't see them.

"Uh, what?" Eddie finds himself saying, against his own will. He heard Harrington the first time, doesn't need or want him to repeat himself, but his disbelief seems to have won out against his grudge for all jocks and his indifference to Steve Harrington in particular.

Harrington's face pinches, like he's three seconds away from rolling his eyes. He doesn't do that, though, which Eddie will give him one brownie point for. "I asked if you had a minute to talk." Eddie's taking away his brownie point because Steve 'asks' in a way that sounds more like a demand.

Hearing the question and or demand a second time doesn't lower Eddie's hackles, but it does pique his curiosity. He drums his fingers atop his lunchbox, thinking it over. He wishes he could say he's pretending to think about it before he tells Harrington to fuck off, but the truth is he actually is thinking about it.

What could Harrington possibly have to say to him? They very much do not run in the same circles. Eddie only talks business at the picnic table past the edge of the woods out back and everyone who buys from him knows that. They share several classes, since they're both seniors, but everyone knows Eddie's on a track to not graduate (again) so he can't possibly be coming to discuss Mrs. Click's homework assignment.

"Sure. Should we go elsewhere or...?" Eddie trails off, lifting a hand to wave in a circle in Steve's direction, questioning.

Steve looks over his shoulder, back towards the side of the cafeteria taken up by the 'popular' crowd. When Steve turns his face back, he looks- well, kind of sad for a moment before it's smoothed over with indifference.

Interesting.

"No. It's probably good that the rest of your friends hear it anyway," Steve answers.

Jeff's eyebrows rise to his hairline, and Frankie frowns as his eyebrows raise at the same time, showing an expression of interest. Eddie's got no idea what Gareth's face is doing because Eddie can't see him unless he wants to turn his face away, but he's certain it's probably a glare of some sort.

Eddie leans back in his chair, wiggling like he's getting extra comfortable before he says, "Well, alright Harrington. Shoot."

"I'm graduating this year, so I just wanted to give you a heads up for next year. I tried to curb the bullying, but I know it still happened. So, since I'm not going to be here to watch out for that, you're gonna wanna up your," Steve gestures to all of Eddie, "everything."

He knew Steve curbed the bullying a bit, heard the confirmation of that last year from Jason Carver and Tommy Hagan, when he'd stepped in to save Gareth. Or rather, Gareth had come flying in to save him and then Eddie had to save Gareth- well, the details don't matter really.

"My everything?" Eddie asks, more confused than angry. He thinks he should be angry. Harrington has all but outright said he doesn't think Eddie's going to graduate with him, after all. But no. The main emotion now is confusion.

"Yeah. Your, y'know, freakinesss or whatever. Be more of it."

"Be more of a freak?" It's fascinating, that Harrington just keeps talking like he thinks anyone at this table care for his opinion.

"Yeah!" Harrington says, cheery like he thinks that Eddie's agreed with him somehow, complete with a stupid snap of his fingers that turns into a finger gun pointed at Eddie. "You've already got this like unapproachable mad dog kind of look about you, most of the JV team is already scared of you. Just like, up that a bit more and they'll probably steer clear of you and your friends." Then Harrington frowns deep, looking around the table of nerds and dorks before looking down at the top of Gareth's head to add, "well. Except probably curly here. No offense, but you seem an easy target."

"Fuck off," Gareth growls, because of everyone at the table, Gareth does have the most bite. (Most bark goes to Eddie himself). Eddie's more prone to run from a problem than engage in it, unlike Gareth, who he's had to pull off of a few people this year.

"Or not," Harrington retracts his previous statement and Eddie will grant the man another brownie point, which brings the total up to one.

"Good to know my reputation precedes me," Eddie grins, wild and a bit manic.

Harrington is unphased. "Yeah! Do that more. I think it really freaks Jason out and he's most likely to take the captain slot next year, so if you get him afraid of you, the rest of the team'll fall in line and leave you alone too. I think he's super religious, so like, lean into the satanic panic thing people are up in arms about and next year will be a breeze. And-"

Eddie lifts a hand, a motion for Harrington to stop talking. It surprised him a little that Harrington does. Even more interesting. "Stop me if I'm wrong here, Harrington, but are you suggesting that I become the bully?"

Harrington's mouth opens and closes a few times before his face pinches again. Instead of looking like he's going to roll his eyes and be bitchy, Harrington looks confused and then like he's deep in thought. An uncomfortable amount of awkward silence falls over there table, but it's just when Eddie's about to break that silence that Harrington finally speaks. "No. I'm saying just like, be you but bigger. Like, you don't even gotta look in the team's direction. If you're just more of a freak than you usually are, they'll steer clear without the bullying."

"You sure know how to compliment a guy," Eddie deadpans. He's not even upset that Steve's called him a freak. He's spent the majority of his high school career cultivating that outlook. He wasn't just a freak, he was The Freak.

Now a look crosses Harrington's face. One Eddie's not sure he's interpreting correctly. If he had to take a guess, he'd say the look was calculating, knowing, in a way that Eddie doesn't think Harrington could actually achieve. Then it's gone, replaced with the bitchy, eye-rolling look Eddie's used to seeing, and Harrington says, "I haven't said anything untrue."

Hmm. The most interesting thing yet. Eddie might not be graduating (again) but he's not dumb. He didn't survive this far in his life, with a father like his, without learning to read people. He wasn't as good as he wanted to be at reading people last year, but he's definitely good enough know to think that, maybe, just maybe, Harrington also knows a thing or two about cultivating a public perception. Making sure people only see a certain side of you.

"Alright," is what Eddie answers, "I'll take what you've said under advisement."

"Uh. Okay," Harrington says before he just walks away. Conversation over.

"Well," Jeff says, "that was strange."

"Very," Eddie agrees as he watches Harrington walk away, tracking him until the cafeteria door slams shut behind him when he exits.

Eddie has always wanted to up the ante, so to speak. Jump on a cafeteria table and rant about capitalism and organized sports. He never has before but next year seems like a great time to try.

[munson-blurbs]

Escaped Convict!Eddie Munson x Innocent!Reader

Summary: a peaceful morning of reading and coffee is interrupted when you stumble upon convicted murderer and prison escapee Eddie Munson, and your kindness towards him does not go unrewarded.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), oral (f! receiving), fingering, corruption kink, 'sir' kink, spitting, biting, mention of blood, mention of assault/murder

WC: 2.6k

A/N: in this fic, "innocent" refers to some sexual inexperience. Eddie and Reader are both in their mid-20s and neither are portrayed as childlike.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At first, you don’t think anything of the slight rustling noise coming from the trees. It’s been a windy morning, the leaves swaying in the breeze since you’d first sat down at your favorite picnic bench, book in one hand and travel mug full of coffee in the other.

Now, you’re several chapters in, coffee long gone, the air warming as the sun reaches its peak in the sky. It’s almost time for you to head back home and get some lunch, and you begrudgingly tuck a bookmark into your tattered copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.

You hear the noise again; this time, it’s not accompanied with a gust of wind, and it draws your attention to an overgrown shrub in the near distance. Curiosity gets the best of you as you peer over it, but nothing could have prepared you for what you find.

One hand shoots out from behind the bush, yanking your wrist and pulling you down. Your jean-clad knees scrape against the cold ground, grass stains seeping into the fabric. A terrified squeal remains trapped in your throat, but you’ve gone completely silent in horror. Before you can process what’s happening, you feel a palm against your mouth.

“Don’t move,” a voice growls, low and slow against the shell of your ear. You keep your eyes staring straight ahead, unwilling to make contact with your captor. “You work with the cops? Hmm?” When you shake your head, his grip loosens slightly. Maybe it’s also because he can feel you trembling within his grasp, not even contemplating fighting back. “If I let you go, you promise you won’t tell a soul?”

You nod against his hand, taking a gasping breath when he hesitantly breaks contact, still unsure about trusting you. You try to scramble to your feet, but your body betrays you; every bone is gelatinous. Falling back with a pathetic whine, the adrenaline fades and the emotions it had been staving off comes flooding in. Tears fall from your eyes, hot as they slide down your cheeks in heaving sobs. The man swears under his breath, evidently distressed that you’ll give away his hiding spot with your crying.

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry,” you apologize weakly, wiping at your face haphazardly and trying once again to stand. You’re successful this time, but before you can run away, you get a glimpse of him. 

He’s absolutely filthy; a mixture of blood and dirt covers his hands and bare feet. A formerly starch-white undershirt is caked in the same grime, bright orange jumpsuit tied around his waist. His hair is matted in several places, though you can see a semblance of curls amongst the knots. And the expression on his face is not one of anger or violence, but of fear. The same fear that wraps around you like a boa constrictor, squeezing and choking until there’s nothing left to feel.

It’s his eyes, the deep brown windows to his soul, that give away his identity. And though his current get-up is a stark contrast from the ill-fitted suit he’d worn to his televised court appearances, you know who he is.

Eddie Munson: murderer, prisoner, and now, escapee.

Your own eyes widen, and you take a staggering step back. You’d seen on the news that he’d broken out of Indiana State prison three days ago, but you’d never imagined that you would be the one to find him.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” he snarls, snapping you from your stupor. “Just go!” He scoffs disbelievingly, not understanding why you haven’t taken off bolting back through the forest.

To be honest, you’re also unsure why you remain in place. You’d followed Eddie’s case since the moment it had first broken: a man leaving a bar in the strange hours that are past the night but not quite morning, plans of trekking home derailed by the sound of a woman’s frantic scream. Without thinking, Eddie ran towards it, fingers digging into a man’s throat to pull him off of her. He could have stopped there, the jury argued; he should have stopped there, but he didn’t. His fist connected with the offender’s cheek, delivering one punch after the other until his own fists were battered and bloodied. 

Eddie might have been hailed a hero if the perpetrator hadn’t been Jason Carver: All-American basketball player, a senator’s son, and most importantly, a man whose family had access to the best lawyers money could buy. The court overlooked Eddie’s act of courage in favor of the murder he’d committed and sentenced him to twenty years behind bars.

Was he innocent? Technically, no. But he also wasn’t the cold-blooded killer the media portrayed him to be.

You extend your hand, wincing at the way it shakes in front of you. “Let me help you, Eddie.” He flinches at his name, pulling back from you. “I…I can hide you, if you want.”

“Wh…what?” There’s no way he heard you correctly. You, the young woman in the soft sweater and frightened but kind eyes, just willingly offered to harbor a fugitive? “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says gently, pinning his hopes on you recognizing his authenticity, “you don’t have to do anything for me.”

“I know.” You keep your hand out, biting your lower lip with so much force that you could draw blood. “I want to.”

With a plethora of reservations, he accepts your proposal as you discreetly lead him to your car. You naively expect him to sit next to you, but he opts to lay down in the backseat where nosy drivers are less likely to spot him. He pulls his knees to his chest, hugging them tight to shrink himself even further. 

“If we get caught,” he whispers as you turn the key in the ignition, “tell them I made you do this, okay? Promise me.”

“Y-Yes. I promise.”

At your apartment, you point Eddie in the direction of the shower while you start on lunch. There isn’t much to choose from, but you crack open a can of Campbell’s tomato soup and make three grilled cheese sandwiches: two for him, one for you. You pour the soup into two bowls just as you hear the water turn off.

“Um, Sweetheart?” The nickname sets off a flurry of butterflies in your abdomen. “Do you have anything for me to wear?” He steps out of the bathroom, just a towel slung low on his waist. Droplets fall from his hair down his chest, blurring the lines of his tattoos. A dusting of brown hair trails from his navel and disappears below the towel. “I could put my own stuff back on, I guess, if you don’t.”

You will yourself to look away from the living, breathing artwork standing before you. “Y-Yeah, give me a sec.” Your arm grazes his torso as you walk past him towards your room, goosebumps appearing on your skin, and not just from the cooling water. Digging through your drawers, you manage to find a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt that your ex-boyfriend had left behind, never bothering to return to collect it. “Here,” you say; he doesn’t question why you have men’s clothes at the ready, just takes them gratefully and pads back into the bathroom to change.

You’re left breathless again when he walks out again, fully clothed. His biceps strain against the cotton material, filling it out better than your ex ever could. And his lack of underwear is evident, the outline just visible through his sweats. 

He’s gorgeous.

Eddie devours the food like it’s a delicacy, rather than canned soup and some Kraft slices on Wonder Bread. Perhaps, after years in prison and an undisclosed amount of days on the run, it is. He brushes the crumbs from his hands into his empty bowl and leans back with a small stretch. “Thank you,” he mumbles with a small smile, leaning over to take your own used utensils. “I’ll wash these. ‘S the least I can do.”

You nod, not wanting to protest and risk making him feel like he’s a burden. “How long can you stay?” you ask softly, nervously picking at your fingernails. “I mean, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need, but I know you probably shouldn’t stick around in one place for long…” You feel silly saying it, like you have any idea of what the protocol is for running away from prison.

“Not long,” Eddie admits, wiping the sponge over a spoon before rinsing it and placing it in the dishrack. “Probably should head back out as soon as it gets dark again. But, really, I can’t thank you enough. The warm shower, the food, the clean clothes…just wish I could repay you somehow.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes flick across your body, soaking in the sight of you. The ache between your legs pulses now, desperate for him to fill the space. You’ve only ever slept with people you’ve been in relationships with; certainly never with escaped convicts who you’d found hiding in the woods.

“What…what did you have in mind?” Your voice is small, barely above a whisper as you stand up and walk towards him. 

“Don’t…don’t do this,” he hisses, raking his fingers through his hair. “Please. It’s been fuckin’ forever, I can’t…” He bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head. “I haven’t touched someone like I want to touch you in so fucking long, sweet girl.”

“You want to touch me?” You’re shocked at his candor, the way he readily confesses his needs. “W-Where?”

Eddie exhales, gliding his forefinger down your cheek. “Everywhere. I can’t get enough of you. Pretty little bookworm just begging to be corrupted, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you squeak, letting your palm fall to his bicep.

“Need to hear you say it,” Eddie urges, for your sake and his. His breath tickles below your ear. “Say it for me, sweet girl.”

“Corrupt me, Eddie.”

His hands are on you in an instant, pinning you against the countertop. Your lips find each other with the force of magnets, a clashing of teeth and tongues more fervent than you’ve ever experienced. He hoists you on top of it, tugging on your jeans and panties until they’re on the ground.

“‘M gonna taste you. See if you’re as sweet as you look,” he murmurs, crouching so he’s got a perfect view of your glistening folds. Broad arms wrap around your thighs to pull you close and he dives in, nose nudging your clit as his tongue broaches your hole. Your toes instinctively curl, back arching as he feeds off of your pleasure and gradually quickens his pace. One thick finger slides inside you, making you moan. “Goddamn, even your sounds are sweet.” He continues licking and sucking, adding another finger as you get wetter. “‘M sorry, I wanna keep eating you out, but I gotta…” His lips latch onto one nipple, giving it the tiniest bite that draws a whimper from you.

You’re surprised to find that you’re enjoying the pinch of pain, lacing your fingers through his curls and holding his face to your chest. You allow your senses to be overwhelmed, drowning them in the sensation of his mouth on your upper body and his fingers within you.

You rock yourself into him, desperately chasing the release that he’s inching you towards. It allows him even deeper, impossibly so, and you tighten around him.

Eddie lets go of your breast, focusing all of his attention on your pussy. His fingers plunge in and out as he looks deep into your eyes, not daring to break any contact. “Thassit, sweet girl,” he says in a cross between a hiss and a coo, “come f’me.”

And you do, relinquishing whatever semblance of control you’d tried to hold on to. You soak his fingers with a cry of his name. There’s no mistaking the proud grin that sweeps over his face, knowing that he was the one bringing you this pleasure. “You’re ready for my cock now, aren’t you?” He laughs when you nod, helping you off of the countertop. He tugs his pants down, exposing his hard length. He’s big, already leaking pre-cum, and you’re salivating at the anticipation of him stretching you delectably. “Bend over for me, honey. You’re gonna take it from behind today.” 

“Yes, sir.” You turn around, bracing your forearms on the Formica while he delivers a harsh slap to your ass.

“Fuck, say that again.”

“Yes, sir. Whatever you want, sir.” 

He groans, throwing his head back as he runs his tip along your folds. “Such a good girl, knowing her place. Gonna take whatever I give you, s’fucking good for me.” He pushes inside you, little by little until he bottoms out. “So warm, so wet, holy shit.” Calloused palms grip your hips as he thrusts into you. “Take it, sweet girl. Mmm, jus’ like that.” Each snap of his hips is punctuated with a wanton groan. “I’ve barely fucked you and you’re already cock drunk. No one ever fucked you this good, huh?”

“N-No, never. Only you, Eddie.”

You feel your chin being pulled so your head faces sideways, his thumb ghosting over your kiss-swollen lips. “Open wide, pretty little thing.” You do as he orders, his saliva coating your tongue as he spits into your mouth. “Mine,” he declares possessively, eyes widening as you swallow what he’s given you without even being asked. 

He pushes down on your back, your breasts pressed against the counter while he thrusts faster and faster, no longer concerned about holding back. “‘M gonna come on your ass.” He squeezes there, turning himself on further just having your supple skin in his grasp.

And because you know how wild it drives him, you consent with a, “yes, sir.”

Eddie pulls out just in time, his hot spend spilling out of him and onto your flesh. You wish you could see the way he’s adorned you, but you’ll have to settle for the feeling of him dripping down your curves. He stands behind you, panting heavily, holding his softening cock in one hand. 

“God fuckin’ damn, sweet girl,” he mutters, reaching over you to grab a paper towel. It’s scratchy as he cleans you up, then takes another and wipes the residual cum from his tip. “You really are perfect.”

You face him and gingerly kiss his lips, probably too intimate for the utter filth you’d just engaged in. Still, he returns it, hands roaming your body with intent but no real destination. 

“Mind if we get some rest?” he asks, poorly stifling a yawn. “You, uh, kinda wore me out just now.”

You lead him to your bedroom, both of you climbing under the covers wordlessly, heads barely hitting the pillow before you’re each sound asleep.

When you wake up hours later, you’re alone in the dark. At first, you wonder if it’s all been a dream, but when you click on your bedside lamp, there’s a handwritten note hastily scrawled on some scrap paper:

My sweet girl,

I had to go and didn’t want to wake you. I knew that if I did, you’d convince me to stay longer, and I can’t put you in any more danger than I already have.

I hope that fate will allow us to meet again, maybe if I’m ever truly a free man. ’ll be thinking of you until then.

Yours, 

Eddie

P.S. burn this note and flush the ashes after reading

You do as he asked, heart sinking as the flames swallow his words. Maybe he’s written the same ones to dozens of different lovers, or maybe you’re the only recipient. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that fills your memory is the way he felt inside you earlier today. 

You will it to live there forever.

--

[egoistars]

FUNNY VALENTINE wriothesley

your boyfriend doesn't seem to love you anymore, so what do you do? complain to neuvillette of course!

warnings: kissing, u being dramatic, neuvillette being done with ur shit, u and wriothesley being super gross and in love

you defeatedly slump into a chair in neuvillette's office and sigh for the fifteenth time in the past few minutes. the hydro dragon slides both his hands down his face, much like how he's seen the people of fontaine do when they were in distress.

"(name), if you don't tell me what's wrong i can't help you." in the several hundred years he's lived, neuvillette doesn't think he's spoken those words more than he has now. as he raises a delicate, white teacup to his lips, you burst into tears, violently twisting your head away from him.

"please, don't drink that in front of me," you cry, shoving your face into an overly expensive pillow on his couch. "that duke wriothesley would always drink tea and i cant stand to see it anymore! i will die parched if i have to!"

"if you're implying wriothesley doesn't love you anymore, you are surely mistaken. i'm not too familiar with human emotions, why don't you pay furina a visit? i'm sure she can understand you better."

at the sound of furina's name, you feel your body run cold. the image of your friend laughing until her face flushing crimson red dashes across your mind like an arrow, shooting you in the chest as you bleed out in an impending doom. you love her, truly, but she would never take you seriously in a situation like this.

"hmm, if you don't want to talk to furina, how about i call wriothesley and have you talk to him yourself? he is your partner, he'd be more than happy to talk through this issue with you."

"no! he's the problem! why would i want to talk to the problem? he doesn't love me anymore, neuvillette. he usually kissed my forehead twice before he leaves for work, but today," you pause for a moment, placing a hand on your chest to soothe the agonizing ache of your heart. "he only gave me one."

neuvillette promptly kicks you out.

"now what's this i hear about you crying to the iudex of fontaine about a broken heart?"

normally, the sound of wriothesley's smooth yet slightly mischievous voice would send you sprinting toward him. today however, you were distraught and feeling slightly petty. the only thing that can satisfy your heartbreak was him on his knees, sobbing with a gross trail of snot running down his nose, begging for your forgiveness.

you quickly learn that in the end, wriothesley always wins. with your back faced toward him, he wraps his muscular arms around you in a warm embrace, the fur of his uniform tickling your neck. grumbling unintelligible words, you dejectedly turn to face him but can't hide the thumping of your chest behind narrowed eyes and pouts. wriothesley laughs at you, pressing a kiss on your forehead, one on your left cheek, and one on your rights.

"i'm sorry for forgetting our routine, you petty minx? i ever do something as horrendous as that again, tell me and i'll make it up to you with as many kisses as you want, yeah? if that's not enough, i'll apologize with tears and jump into the primordial sea in your honor."

as the finale of this vomit-inducing opera, he follows the monologue by pressing a loving kiss to your waiting lips, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours.

"yeah you better keep your fucking promise," you threaten. the two of you know you don't intend to be mean by the way you melt into his touch. "i ordered your favorite today so you don't make me regret that."

maybe your boyfriend does love you after all.

[miss-musings]

A TBB Mini-Meta: Crosshair's Two Sides

This is a quick observation combining some of my own previous thoughts and a few that @yavln4 and other folks have discussed.

While it's not quite to the level of Harvey Dent/Two-Face from the Batman franchise, Crosshair has two distinct sides to him. I mean that more so in a physical sense, but I think there's something to be said about the emotional aspect as well.

Crosshair's right side represents who he is as a soldier and sniper.

Everything that serves as a physical reminder of his time in the Grand Army of the Republic and/or Empire is on his right side: His tattoo, the burn scar on his head, and his shaking/missing hand.

Additionally, the inhibitor chip was embedded on the right side of Crosshair's and the other clones' heads.

His right eye is also the one he primarily uses to aim. His viewfinder is on the right side of his helmet, which has zoom and infrared capabilities, and when he looks through a scope, he does so with his right eye.

I'm sure you all know exactly what I'm talking about but here are a few visual reminders:

Now, his left side represents Crosshair as a person -- specifically, as a brother and dad.

It is the side of him that is completely unmarred: No scar, no tattoo, no missing hand. It's his "normal" side, so to speak.

In general, a person's left side is traditionally associated with the heart (ie, wedding rings, etc.).

Crosshair also keeps his sidearm on his left side, which makes sense because he normally has his rifle in his right hand. I only mention this because he uses his left hand to kill Nolan in 2.12 "The Outpost," which becomes a HUGE turning point for him.

Additionally, when he collapses after shooting Nolan, he falls unconscious with his left side facing upwards. As someone else pointed out (I'm not sure who, but if I find the post I'll add the source and link here), this suggests that Crosshair has been "reborn." He's rejected being a soldier and is instead becoming his own person again.

Also, as I've pointed out before, his left side tends to be associated with Omega and/or Hunter.

Of course, Crosshair uses his left hand to save Omega from Hemlock in the finale.

In several key scenes throughout the show, Omega and/or Hunter are on his left side. Examples include but aren't limited to:

Omega talking to Crosshair in the brig in 1.01 "Aftermath"

Omega talking to Crosshair while they're trapped in Nala Se's lab in 1.16 "Kamino Lost"

Omega finding him unconscious on Tantiss at the end of 2.16 "Plan 99"

The family meeting scene at Shep's in 3.05 "The Return"

Crosshair and Hunter reaching an understanding immediately after facing the Ice Wyrm in 3.05 "The Return"

Crosshair and Hunter talking to Ventress at the end of 3.09 "The Harbinger"

Crosshair and Hunter facing down Hemlock as he holds Omega captive in 3.15 "The Cavalry Has Arrived"

The group hug in 3.15 "The Cavalry Has Arrived"

BONUS: Hunter is also to Crosshair's immediate left when Echo joins CF99 in TCW 7.04

Essentially, in S1, Crosshair's "two sides" were in conflict with each other. Initially, it was because of the inhibitor chip. However, once he regains his free will, he doesn't want to give up the life of a solider/sniper.

As much as he loves his family, in 1.16 "Kamino Lost," he ultimately chooses his identity as a soldier versus his identity as a brother.

I think that's why, when he shoots Nolan and collapses in 2.12 "The Outpost," it's significant that it's his left hand and left side that's given importance. He's finally choosing to be his own person again. He's rejecting his identity as a soldier.

Unfortunately, that choice is short-lived, as he is imprisoned at Tantiss for half a year. There, he's subjected to Hemlock's "re-education" efforts and develops a tremor in his right hand.

But, even after escaping and reconciling with his brothers, he can't completely let go of his identity as a soldier and sniper. Unfortunately, his fight isn't over yet. The Empire is still after Omega, and as long as they are, Crosshair's family won't be safe.

So, he continues to fight -- to be a soldier -- but for his family's sake this time.

It's not until CX-2 cuts off his hand in 3.15 that, in a sense, he's freed of that identity. I mean, what good is a sniper without his shooting hand?

As @yavln4 summarized nicely on my "Was there a better way to handle Crosshair's hand tremors?" post:

IMO, his hand doesn't represent his PTSD - it represents his identity as a soldier. It's more important to him than family in s1 due to reconditioning- it wavers after he loses Mayday- and it's completely severed from him before he finally rescues Omega. He goes into that final conflict not as a soldier, but as a parent.

It's only once Hemlock and Tantiss are subsequently destroyed that he's finally free to be his own person. Now, he can focus on just being a brother and a dad, and not have to worry about being a soldier again.

Of course, he'll never be able to erase he who was and the choices he made. His right side still remains -- his tattoo, his scar, his missing hand. And that part of him will be useful if he ever chooses to fight again.

But, he can be reborn. He can choose another path, another life.

His right side represents who he once was, who he was created and born to be. His destiny and his purpose.

But, his left side represents who he is now, who he chose to be and how he wants to live. His future and his freedom.

Crosshair might've been "born" on his right side, but he chose to live on his left.

[fuckyeahizzyhands]

Con O'Neill interview with Awards Radar's Steven Prusakowski 😭😭😭❤❤❤

SP: Busy time of year, but, you know, starting to slow down in just enough to hang out with the family and do all the cooking for, like 48 hours and then.

Con: Are you the main cook in the house?

SP: I am the main cook.

Con: Yeah. So am I. I love it.

SP: I love it, too.

Con: It's my go to place.

SP: Yeah.

Con: Because when I left school, I trained to be a chef.

SP: Oh, wow.

Con: Briefly. Another story.Okay, let's rock and roll.

SP: Well, that passion never leaves you, I think. I think once you start, especially when someone enjoys and says, hey, I really liked your food.I hear from my daughter's friends or their parents, she loved your pasta or whatever it was, I'm like, okay, now I'm...

Con: It's the best feeling, isn't it?

SP: It is. It's wonderful.

Con: And just that kind of inherent, nurturing thing of just going into the kitchen empty handed and coming out with a meal for people is really rewarding. And I love it. It's intoxicating. I absolutely love it.

SP: Same here.

Con: Because I travel so much, I don't always get a place with a kitchen. And that's why I always try and get an apartment when I'm filming because it just gives me a place to be in my head that isn't about work.

SP: Yeah. Yeah. Well, I can talk cooking forever, but-

Con: But we should.

SP: I know we're short on time and I have a ton of questions and I won't get to all of them. So let's just jump into the series and maybe we could pick it back up. Sorry to interrupt, but I love the series. I love your character and your performance.

Con: Thank you.

SP: It's a stellar, and there's so much to Izzy that we see on the surface, but there's so much more to him beneath. How was this character originally pitched you and what did you initially want to bring to him?

Con: The thing about this character was he wasn't in the pilot. So when I spoke to David about it, there was nothing written. So he explained it in very broad terms. But then I quite like specifics when I'm choosing projects. And kind of... he brought up Salieri from Amadeus, and I really hooked into that. Now, I don't know whether we went that way with it in the end, but it was a really good hook for me because Salieri is that guy with a mission who is on the surface wanting, but is underneath something else. And I think initially, Izzy was that, but then we exploded him in several other ways and Salieri diminished to something else. But it was a good hook for me

initially to get in by thinking about Salieri.

SP: Yeah, I like it. I could see that for sure. And to start the season two. So going into that, he's a shadow of himself from this feared, intense, strong man to a broken man. And what was it like taking this character and exposing that humanity and starting to peel away some of that shield.

Con: I mean... David had spoken to me before we started shooting and explained most of the hulk to me, and I'd always played Izzy as a man who was in love but didn't know he was in love. And for me, the key into this season was a. the design, but more importantly, was the Taika's performance. To see a man that I love to be that broken and to be that vicious because of the heartbreak, it was profound for me to see what he did with Blackbeard, and it did break my heart a little bit. So the emotional journey was quite clear that at the end of the day, all hatred of Stede had left him, and all he wanted to do is fix Blackbeard, and he risks his life to do that. He literally puts himself on the line for that because, like always. And what I loved about what David and the writers did was they didn't remove Izzy from season one in season two, he's still there. And what Izzy does is about the crew. He puts his life on the line because Blackbeard is killing his crew, and he risks it all for that. But it breaks him seeing the the man he loves so fragile and broken and angry, it breaks him. So, It wasn't an easy job. It was quite a lonely job. It was quite a difficult job because it was going down that path that I knew inevitably we were going to go down. But I thought it was beautifully written. So most of what I needed to do was on the page, to be honest-

SP: -I'm sorry-

Con: I just had to throw myself into it.

SP: Excellent. And then with Izzy being broken and literally broken, he loses his leg, which is symbolic of much more. It leads to one of the most touching moments of the series, a note with four words: For The New Unicorn. What did that mean to you, and what does that mean to the character?

Con: You know, I've been talking a lot last couple of days - because I'm allowed to now - and, you know, this season is about Izzy coming out. In many ways, he comes out, but that moment, that rest, that beautiful piece of writing again, the writing, where the crew embrace him, and it just releases him. It releases him from his own concept of who he is. It releases him from his own concept of who he has to

be to be a first mate and a brilliant first mate. It released him of concept that he's alone. None of this would have been possible to Izzy pre season one, none of it. And in many ways, it's Stede that brings this into his life. Because before Stede, Izzy never thought of his relationship with Blackbeard as a loving relationship. He never thought of it as being in love. He only realizes he's in love with Blackbeard when he sees Blackbeard lose Stede. That's the only... The reveal is he's heartbroken because the man he loves is broken, and he doesn't know what to do with any of that. He's not emotionally capable. And the crew giving him the letter and calling him the new unicorn and releasing him from all the stuff that he'd done, all that pain that he'd suffered and anger that he'd raged upon them, it's a really accepting moment. So... yeah, I'm waffling a bit now, but it meant a lot, and it was a very beautiful moment to play. And I thought Andy, who directed it, directed it so...Andy was a real shoulder for me to lean on in those scenes, because a lot of those early scenes I'm shooting on my own. And it's quite difficult to play an emotional narrative when you're on your own, because it tends to just be one tone. And he was wonderful, and Alyssa and Alex and all. They were all wonderful in helping me gauge those moments, as were the rest of the cast. But, yeah, that moment touched me enormously.

SP: You know, you have this love triangle that is never really spoken, but it's there.

Con: Yeah

SP: Then it kind of shifts - it's almost like a love square. It's Ed, Blackbeard, Izzy and Stede. And where the love, you know, crosses, it's all... or the hatred is at sometimes, but then it evolves...

Con: Absolutely.

SP: It's so complex.

Con: I mean we all're in contemporary language. We always associate love with romance. That isn't the case here. The love that Blackbeard and Izzy have for each other is deep, man. It's deep, and it's rooted in years of working together, loving each other, saving each other's lives, being constant. This is probably the only constant they both had in their lives, is Blackbeard is Izzy, Izzy is Blackbeard, and then they have this buffoon come in and steal Blackbeard's heart. It's not that Blackbeard falls in love with someone else. Blackbeard falls in love with this guy. This Izzy just can't comprehend, and it's a constant. And then once, I think once Blackbeard hands him the gun, everything changes. And Blackbeard says, kill yourself. Everything changes. And then there's an openness to Stede and Blackbeard that brings him to that place of acceptance-

SP: -It's great to watch also. I'm sorry. Go ahead.

Con: No, that. I mean, I'll waffle again. I'll waffle a lot, because that's what I do. But the more I think about that relationship, the more I go down all these different avenues of what it could have been, and what it could never have been, and what it is and what it wasn't. And as you say, it's layered and complex, and I'm honored to have been able to get to play with those actors, and especially with Taika, who's a profoundly good actor - everyone talks about Taika's director and writer - the man's a fucking great actor to work opposite, and he's... he's exquisite. So, yeah, I could only go where I went because the writers and Taika. Really.

SP: That's great. I... of course, we have to touch upon the end of the season and the end of Izzy, unfortunately, which I'm hoping is not. I'm hoping David has something up his sleeve. But what was your reaction when you learned it and how emotional was shooting that final scene? Because that final scene says a lot between...

Con: It was a... listen, I've been around a long time. The writing was on the wall when I started to read the scripts, and David had kind of hinted at it anyway when we went out for the famous dinner where he told me what the plan was, and I was gutted because I loved playing him so much. But, yeah, narratively, yeah, it makes sense. And I have complete faith, respect, love, admiration for David Jenkins, and whatever he thinks or wants to happen in season three will be the right thing if he gets season three, which I, whether I'm involved in it or not, I really hope he gets it, because he deserves it. And the show deserves it. The show deserves its triangle. It deserves it. But, yeah, it took a few days to sink in, and then I was fine. I was incredibly tired by that time. And I was lonely, as... really lonely because I was so far away from home filming all these scenes, and I tended to isolate when I was filming because of the nature of the work. So when I wasn't filming, I was sword training, or I was working out, or I was learning to walk on that fucking leg, or I was whatever whatever whatever. So I found myself isolating a lot. And in a way, it was a relief to be released from it. The final scene David had sent to me several weeks earlier. And I prepped, as I always do, and I prepped and I prepped and we were going to shoot at the beginning of the last week, and then it got shifted to the middle of the last week, and then it got shifted to the morning of the last day, and then it was shifted to the last thing we were going to shoot in the entire season. And there's always a dark cloud around those scenes because you never quite know how it's going to play. And there's a lot of pressure. And it being the last thing we were going to shoot, put more pressure on. And we were on the ship, which is a huge set, hundreds of crew members, the cast, everyone who could possibly be there was there. And I was getting quite unsettled by the amount of cacophony of noise and people. And then we rigged it all up, and it was still just [noise]. And then suddenly it was just me and Taika and just saying goodbye to a character we both fell in love with. And it was... it was a, I'm saying 'profound' a lot, but it was a profound experience doing that scene because everything else disappeared. It was just me and him. It was just Izzy and Blackbeard. And it was a lovely lovely moment.

SP: It was painful, but-

Con: It was lovely to be held by-

SP: -beautiful to watch.

Con: Yeah. Thank you. I mean, it's lovely to be held by another actor just... creatively and likewise with me to him. And David had a playlist playing and it was... elegant to do. It was nice to do. It was a nice, fitting ending to that chapter of this character. And I'll always be grateful that they shot it in that way.

SP: I do have to wrap. I just want to say before we do, I really enjoyed your rendition of La Vie En Rose. fantastic.

Con: Thank you.

SP: That's beautiful. And I appreciate all the work you did in the series, and I hope we see you again. And hopefully maybe you'll have a cooking show too, along the way, because I'd love to see what you make in that kitchen.

Con: Come on and let's bake together. Oh, I can't bake. I'll cook. It's lovely l ovely talking to you, Stephen.

SP: Great talking to you as well. Have a great day.

Con: Thank you. Bye bye.

SP: Thank you.

[softpascalito]

Worth crossing a blizzard for - Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: During shooting for The Last of Us, a snowstorm hits Canada, essentially forcing Pedro to take the day off. Turns out its not as bad as he thinks.

Relationships: Pedro Pascal x Reader WC: 1600 Tags/Warnings: MDNI, RPF, Real-Person-Fiction, Non-Explicit Sex, showering together, Gender-neutral Reader, Snow, blizzard, Crew Reader, The Last of Us Shooting, Canada, Kissing, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Pedro Pascal, Healthy Relationships, Secret Relationship Read on AO3 full advent calendar (updated daily)

notes: i haven't written pedro in sooo long, i miss him. needless to say, this is the lil version i created of him in my head and not necesarily an accurate representation of his actual personality <3 also, this is another lil entry for stephs winter writing challenge with the trope warmth, i highly recommend checking the entire list if youre interested :) (@toomanystoriessolittletime)

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

It starts with a light snowfall, little white particles floating through the air, rushing past the car as he drives back from set and a small sigh escapes his lips. It's been snowing on and off for weeks, usually meaning an earlier calltime for everyone, to make sure the locations can be cleared from the thin layer of snow if needed.

The wind has picked up by the time Pedro reaches the apartment that has been his home for the last few weeks and when he steps out of the shower half an hour later, the light snowfall has developed into a full-on blizzard, complete with cars honking in the streets below and his phone vibrating angrily, demanding attention. A rushed glance as he gets dressed confirms his suspicions. There's several warnings of severe weather, most of them due to hit tonight.

A gentle knock on the front door lets the man whip around and a small frown builds on his forehead as he crosses the hallway, taking a quick glance through the peephole. He practically yanks the door open.

You have your coat wrapped tightly around yourself, a knitted hat drawn down to your ears and a scarf wrapped around your neck. The two latter are practically soaked, decorated with little white crystals all over that are beginning to melt in the slightly warmer air of the hallway and dripping down onto the door mat.

Pedro stays still for a moment, taking in your form in front of him, before his brain registers what's going on. He reaches out, pulling you into the apartment, “What the hell were you thinking?”

The door closes behind you and the frown that decorated Pedros face a moment ago is now appearing on yours, “I- What?” For a split second you wonder if he's mad. He rarely gets a day off and even when he does, he usually spends it doing something, unable to just sit and relax, even for a little while. Maybe he's made plans for tonight and you've just crashed them.

“You can't be walking around in a blizzard like this, look at yourself,” he tuts, helping you take your wet coat off along with the hat and scarf and maneuvering them into the bathroom to hang them up to dry. You take your boots off carefully, gaze never leaving the man in front of you, “It's barely a twenty minute walk.”

“You're telling me you didn't even get a taxi?” He asks as he returns to the hallway and watches you put your shoes onto a small shoe tray.

“Does it look like I got a taxi?” You shoot back, getting a little irritated with how concerned he is. Immediately, Pedros gaze softens a bit and a small grumble escapes his throat as he takes a step forward, bringing his fingers up to your hair to carefully pick a snowflake out of it.

It melts between his fingers.

“No, you don't,” he muses, smiling a little sheepishly. “You could've called me. I would've picked you up.” You can't help but chuckle a little at that, “I did call you. You didn't pick up. The phone, I mean.” He stares at you for a moment, then back at his phone that has at least a dozen unread messages, then back to you, “Fuck, I- I was taking a shower, guess I didn’t hear-”

“It's fine,” you promise gently, standing on your tiptoes to place a small kiss on his cheek. Pedro sighs a little, taking in the way you’re looking at him and eventually nodding as he leads you further into the small apartment. It's spacious for one person but cozy for two, production of course not having calculated that you would be here too. You tried to stick to only sleeping over on weekends for a while, arguing that Pedro needed his rest and a quiet environment to go over his lines. He argued back that he slept a lot better with you beside him.

“You want a coffee?” He offers and you nod yes, following him to the open kitchen and hopping onto the counter as he grabs a mug for you.

“So you haven't read it yet?” You ask, rubbing your hands together in an effort to warm them up. “Read what?” His back is to you, the sound of the coffee machine starting almost drowning out his words. 

“Shoot is canceled for tomorrow. Probably until next week.”

Something about your tone makes him turn around to face you. He's in front of you a second later, hands resting on your waist as he studies your face, “And you're not happy about that?”

“Why would I? It sets us back at least two days and were already behind, at this rate reshoots-”

Pedro hums a little and squeezes your waist, causing you to fall quiet.

“I don't like it either but-”

You cut him off before you can stop yourself, shaking your head as you speak and lowering your gaze towards the floor, “It's just really bad timing and I have so much to do already and-”

“Hey, look at me.”

He squeezes again, a little harder this time, and one hand comes up to nudge your chin until you're looking right at him. You find soft brown eyes, the little patch in his beard you like so much and hair that's still a little damp from showering.

“It's snow. You can't do anything about snow.”

You let your head fall forward again, letting out a small sigh, “Yeah, I know.” Pedro gently brings his arms around you, holding you close for a moment. The coffee machine beeps, signaling that it's done. But he doesn't let go yet, rubbing your back a little instead.

“The way I see it,” he starts. “We may as well enjoy our night in. Even if it wasn't exactly planned. Plus, there's no way in hell I'll let you go back out there anyway.”

He does have a point. And a night off, especially a night off for both of you, doesn't sound too bad, even if it's constricted to the small apartment you're sitting in.

As soon as your coffee is empty and a few urgent messages are replied to, Pedro insists on a shower to warm you up. You're halfway to the bathroom before you turn around with a small smile on your face, “You're gonna let me shower alone?”

“I just showered,” Pedro replies almost automatically, putting your mug away. Then, he catches the small twinkle in your eye.

“You just showered,” you repeat, the smile still decorating your face and Pedro nods a few times before getting into motion.

“I guess I could do with another one.”

For once, there's no rush. You take your time, with the shower and everything that it includes. You spend what feels like a solid five minutes kissing afterwards, already scrubbed clean and so, so content. The air is steamy when you step out of the shower and Pedro really does treat you to the full experience, insisting on applying your lotion for you.

You hum contently as he gently massages it into your back, your muscles tingling with relief. He chuckles softly behind you, “Feeling a little warmed up already?”

“More than a little. Don't know how you do it.”

You lightly slap his ass on the way to the bedroom.

After securing your favorite sweater of his and some sweatpants, you find yourself in the kitchen again, rummaging through the cupboards to figure out what to cook up with the scarce ingredients available. You both usually eat on location or get some takeout on the way home, not to speak of the lack of cooking skill you both possess.

It ends up being pasta with some leftover greens and tomatoes and for once, you could swear it tastes ten times better than whatever takeout you could've gotten. You're cuddled up on the couch, staring out into the dark, gusts of snow still blowing past the window. The traffic jams have calmed down, the people returned to their houses to find shelter from the cold. Only a few lost ones are still wandering around, no doubt with a goal that justifies a walk through the conditions. You understand them.

Pedro watches a man disappear around the corner and swallows his mouthful of pasta, “Are you sure you didn't catch a cold?”

You smile weakly, “ Even if I did, it would be worth it. I'd trade a cold for a night off with you. You know that.” He chuckles a little, tilting his head slightly, “Just saying, it may be a little on the nose for both of us to get sick at the same time.”

You raise a brow as you finish your plate and gently put it down before cuddling into Pedro’s side, drawing your legs up onto the couch, “There's a blizzard. It's not that on the nose.”

The snowflakes landing on the window stay there for a few moments, glistening in the dim light from inside the apartment before the warmth seems to reach through the glass. One by one, they turn into small drops of water.

He considers your words for a moment before nodding, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right.” His arm wraps around you, pulling you in a little more as you rest your head against his shoulder. He leans down to plant a small kiss on your head and you hum contently, smiling to yourself.

The snowflakes melt on the window pane. You melt in Pedros arms.

Your voice is only a mumble.

“Besides- you can't do anything about snow.”

notes: hey babes! im considering a second part to this so let me know if that's something you'd like <3

[bendycxmet]

Under Your Spell Pt. 2—Vash the Stampede

Summary: Secrets out. Now how does Vash top his previous stream? You have some ideas.

Word Count: ~4.5k

Pairing: gn!reader x camboy!Vash the Stampede

Content: sexual content, nsfw, 18+ MDNI!, handjob, blowjob, edging, voyeurism, whiny vash, teasing reader

a/n: once again, a special order for @biancalattei and @awkwardchick87.

|masterlist| |Part 1|

a large whiteboard sat between you and vash in your living room, markers thrown to the side for twenty minutes now since you both started arguing.

“i’m telling you they’ll love it! baby, it’ll be so hot trust me i know what you guys like-”

“vash, i am being so serious when i tell you the fans will not want to see you fucking me. they are fans for the sole reason that you look sexy jacking off and pleasuring yourself. it would rip them out of their fantasies if they see the gorgeous man they watch every week pleasure someone who is not them. at least for me it would.”

after what you can confidently say was the most dramatic reveal of vash’s side hustle, vash had the genius–and brave–idea to include you in one of his streams as a special guest. a collab if you will. as one of his top supporters, he fully believes this could light a fire under his fans and any potential subscribers, depending on how viral this stream could go in the camming community. a fire you tentatively stoke during your brainstorming session, preventing it from turning into an absolute dumpster fire from vash’s brash ideas. 

the night you found each other in the hallway after the stream was emotionally exhausting. the rollercoaster of emotions you went through–embarrassment, shock, trepidation tinged with enthusiasm, and most of all, hope and excitement at a new step in your relationship with vash. you were also physically exhausted that night, repeating what you had done in the stream and wearing the control you had on him thin, finally snapping after denying vash his release for the third time. the shower was hastily shut off and he toted you off to his bedroom, rivulets of water trailing behind you, wetting the sheets as you two went for several rounds, only stopping when you had become essentially boneless. 

you take a deep breath, mentally fanning the memories away before you have the slight idea of tackling vash to the floor. besides, you and vash haven't broached the subject of what exactly you two are now, out of fear of potentially ruining what you both have carefully curated? ruining your relationship? who knows. 

“let’s remember why you stream. you wanna show how good you feel to your fans, right? and they eat it up every time. i propose we stick to that blueprint, but now, you have someone there to do all the work for you, and you can sit back and just give the people what they want–your reactions.” you tilt your head, questioning if he catches your drift. all he does is imitate you, looking like a curious puppy. you continue. “what if, shoot me down if you want, i’m the one to take you there? blowjob, handjob, what have you, but you can’t touch me. i know you like to be under someone else’s control in some way, having the decisions made for you so you can take a mental back seat. so my second idea would be to tie you to the chair. what do you think?”

vash only looks at you with wide eyes that are full of reverence, shuffling in place. you’re guessing your idea is already affecting him, slyly smiling at him. “i never doubted you for a second mayfly, always the intelligent one between us both.” he gives you a toothy grin. “let’s do it. i have a couple ideas of my own.”

“i’m not doing this naked!” you blurt out.

he shakes his head. “of course not. i would never ask that of you, unless you’re comfortable with it. besides, seeing you like that is reserved for my eyes only.” he fixes his searing eyes on you, undressing you in the moment. 

“ok, now question is how and when do we do this-”

“obviously tonight.” you blankly stare at him, opening your mouth, ready to disagree. you were not mentally prepared. he reaches for your hands and places a reassuring kiss to your knuckles. “gotta strike while the iron is hot right? it’ll be a nice surprise for everyone, considering how much fun we all had last week.” he trails his hands down your forearms, rubbing your skin. “trust me ok? i promise it wont be scary once we get into it.”

-

you’re sitting on vash’s plush red sheets, hands clasped between your thighs, watching as he flits across his room, preparing for the stream that’s due to start in a couple of minutes. you're wearing nothing but one of his sleeping shirts, one that reaches mid-thigh, your underwear, and some socks. the epitome of prudeness, especially for a cam stream. 

he adjusts the camera on his desk, checks the lighting, and moves the chair into position. you check him out from behind, admiring his backside that is only covered in his donut-patterned boxers. he’s already wearing his usual getup, bunny ears sticking up from his head. he finally turns to your tense form, sitting next to you and unlatching your hands from each other.

“ok, let’s do a quick rundown of tonight. you, my pretty, will be the one in control of me, for the second time. i am really kinky, huh?” he chuckles, bouncing slightly on the mattress, excited. “stay off to the side until i bring you on. we’ll interact with the chat for a bit because i’m sure they're going to go ballistic. then you’ll tie me up, and you can start with whatever. at your own pace, because i won't be able to do much of course.” you nod, about to stand from the bed when he pulls you back. “also, i have something for you to wear.” from behind his back, he pulls a matching bunny mask, only this one is black.

your inner fan pops out, squealing as you grab it out of his hands. it almost feels like merch, turning it in your hands, feeling the hard plastic material. you pull the strap behind your head, peeping out at him through the eyeholes. “how do i look?” 

he pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek. “so unbelievably sexy. if i wasn't hard before, i am now.”

“actually, i meant to ask you about that. you’re always so hard when you click in. do you jack off before-” he shushes you, fingertip to your lips. 

“a magician never reveals his secrets. alright. let’s get started. stand by my desk.”

you two get into position, standing off to the side as vash clicks the start button on his computer.

“good evening everyone! what a lovely, horny night we’re having!” his booming, charming voice rings out into the room. you stifle a giggle. he usually isn’t this loud in his streams. you wonder if his more quieter nature from before was him attempting to hide this from you. 

>hello fellow sex havers. or not. we’re all here tonight instead of getting laid

>hey shut up

>has anyone seen bonbon? they’re usually here by now but i’m not seeing them in the participants list

>oh true. where’s our bonbon??

“i actually have an answer to that chat. i think you’re gonna like this.” he drums his fingers on his desk. “drumroll everyone! say hello to our beloved bonbon!” he reaches his hand out to you, palm facing up. you place your hand in his warm one, take a deep breath, and step into the view of the camera, glad for the mask. 

the reaction is immediate.

>WAITWAITWAIT

>r u being for real right now?! is this mf AI??

>bonbon in the fleshhhh

>collab of the century!!!

>matching bunny masks?? i hope they fuck like rabbits too

>chill

your muscles relax. you’re eternally grateful that vash has pulled in a supportive fanbase. you wave at the screen.

“hi everyone. as you know, i am bonbon721. our boy here…invited me out here for a collab, and i thought, why not make our favorite cammer do what we want in person?” waves of comments roll through, agreeing and congratulating you on making the ultimate next step. you mentally pull a mask on, placing yourself into the role of a cam collaborator. what would make this go to the next level?

vash quirks his eyebrows, feeling a sudden shift in the atmosphere. he feels rather than sees you walk around him, circling him as if he was prey under the steely, hungry gaze of a predator. 

“i know i’m the fortunate one to be here, touching, kissing our man.” your hands graze his shoulders as you walk around the back of his chair, lips soon following where you touched him. he’s gone quiet. “i have a plan. but i want to add your input in there as well. add a couple of suggestions in the chat. i’ll pick the best ones. i’ll give you a minute. go.”

vash whips his head towards you. “uh…bonbon? what’re you doing?”

>suck on his toes-

*comment has been deleted by moderators*

>make him bark for you

>you should sit in the chair and have him service you~

>cmon man show some respect to bonbon

>blindfold him

>sensory depravation all the wayy ^^

your eyes catch on those last comments. you grin, teeth flashing in the light from his ring light. vash felt the slow, creeping feeling that he was falling into a trap. this was supposed to be his channel. how had you managed to sabotage his stream in the first three minutes?

“sensory depravation? love that we’re all so kinky here.” you search around his room, spotting a loose scarf on his floor. “i certainly can DIY my way around that.”

“um. can we pump the brakes a little bit? you guys are scaring me a bit,” vash nervously chuckles, eyes flitting to you for reassurance. you bend down to whisper in his ear. “you said to trust you tonight. know that it goes both ways angel.” you kiss the shell of his ear. “plus, we have cheerleaders in the chat.”

the chat is quickly pouring in love and support for vash, various amounts of ‘you got this!’ and ‘dont be a wuss we’re just a couple of virgins.’ the comments seem to easily lift his spirits, vash puffing up his chest in an amusing display of heroic confidence. 

“im back! nothing like a little shyness to humble you from time to time.” you kiss the corner of his lips, the chat gushing at the simple affection. 

“ready everyone? i’ll start by tying him down to the chair. don’t want him moving too much now do we?” you grab the ribbon from the desk, looping it through the holes in the desk chair and securing it to his wrists. vash flexes his hands, testing the strength of the ribbon. “not too tight?” you whisper, eyeing him for any discomfort. he shoots you a loving glance through the mask’s eyeholes, the care in them obscured by the plastic. he shakes his head at your question. 

you slip back into your role, standing and turning back to assess the camera. “now for our favorite new addition–depriving him of sight. say bye everyone!” with that, the red cloth of the scarf is placed over his eyes, severing him from the world around him. 

“perfect, doesn’t he look like such a good boy chat?” their agreement is obvious in the comments. 

>ohhh im hard already hurryyyy

>this is bonbon’s stream now. go bonbon! 

>yo get to it already

“uh, hello? are you still there bonbon?” comes vash’s cautious whine, set on edge at your silence. you decide to heed the chat’s commands and get to work. 

you drop down until your eye level with his crotch. you kiss his inner knee, barely moving in time to miss the jolt of his knees, surprised by the warm press of your lips leading to his intimates. you brush your hands up his thighs, reaching for the waistband of his boxers, digging in and pulling them down his legs. he lifts his hips to help you, your eyes fixed on the bob of his flushed cock as it springs out, fully ready. no matter how many times you have seen it, it still manages to make your mouth water.

he juts his hips up, needy for your immediate attention, his cock swaying with the movement. you chuckle darkly, moving your hands back up his thighs, lightly grazing your nails along the way, pulling a loud whine that echoes out into the dark room. 

“you thought i’d start by rewarding you with my mouth? you need to work for it first, show me how obedient you can be.” you stand back up, your hands delicately trail along his forearm, touching where the ribbon keeps him down, up to his bare shoulders, squeezing the hard muscles there. he whimpers at how helpless he now feels to you. you lean down, throwing your arm around his other shoulder and whisper into his ear. “if you’ll be so good for me during this stream, your real reward will come later…off camera.” he grunts at your suggestion, cock jumping in your peripheral.

>ooo whatever they said totally turned him on even more

>god i wish i were bonbon rn

the comments continue to flood in, but all your focus now is on vash and making him feel the best he has ever felt during his streams. you feel as if you have an angel and a devil on your shoulder, one begging to you ruin him for all his future streams, making it harder for him to cum without you there while the other is begging you to take a step back from the spotlight, to remember whose stream this belongs to. you choose to listen to the former. 

you smooth your hand does his front, pinching and rolling his perked, pink nipples before continuing your journey down south. you feel a bit dizzy as your fingers brush through his happy trail, his stomach warm, realizing now that you have been secretly checking off your fantasy list. you indulge for a moment, twirling and rubbing the softness at his navel before finally touching where he has been yearning for your soft touch. he keens loudly, a loud exhale coming from him as he finally feels your hand encircle his tip. 

“i bet i can get you there faster than yourself.”

his teeth clamp shut, leather gloves squeezing around the arms of his chair. “i dont doubt it for a second. you’ve already had me on edge for five minutes now.” you feel pride bloom in your chest, a prowling sense of possession creeping up in you, wishing you could now keep the image of him in ecstasy for yourself, away from the prying eyes of his subscribers. you shake your head of those thoughts, reminding yourself that you are a guest and this is his stream. you kiss his lobe, abruptly squeezing him, beginning a fast rhythm, your stroking causing him to arch his back, both towards the pleasure and away. 

you press your arm against his chest, pushing him back into his chair, stilling your hand. “good boys don’t move. will you be my good boy or not?” you pet his head, threading your hands through his wig and yanking his head back, exposing his throat, watching it bob as he brokenly gasps his pleasure. you mouth at the lines of his throat, suckling softly, working your hand in tandem with your mouth. he starts to pull at his ties, pushing against your arm as his noises start to pitch.

“please let me cum p-please i can’t hold on anymore-” the chair begins to rattle as his thighs shake, a loud thunk sounding from where he digs his heels into the flooring, driving his release away until you give him permission. an answering knock comes from the floor. yeah, the neighbors are definitely going to file a noise complaint. 

“i’ve been too mean to you, haven’t i?” you coo. “cum.”

his teeth dig harshly into his lips, preventing his pretty noises from escaping. a nasty habit in your eyes. you quickly grab both sides of his cheeks, pressing your fingers in to force him to let go of his lips, satisfied mewls tumbling out of his throat right as hot spurts of cum coat your fingers. he turns in your hand, kissing your palm in thanks. 

“well that was…yummy,” you quip at the chat, licking your fingers free of his release, realizing vash can’t see you indulging in him, slurping loudly to cue him in. his answering gasp and twitch of his cock showing his endless endurance. 

>god what i would give to lick up that mess

>i bet he tastes good

“oh he does. not really salty, actually. ill leave the rest to your imagination.” you quirk your head to the side as vash lays panting before you, cum cooling on his hot skin. “i should help clean him up. i did make a mess of him.” you twirl the chair so that the camera can catch both of you in a side angle. you drop to your knees, giving yourself a moment to inhale the scent of him, nuzzling into his thighs before tilting your head up. your hot breaths are hitting vash’s cock just right, and he might cum from that.

“want me to clean you up?”

“do you even have to ask?” he opens his legs further, bumping you from your comfortable spot on his thighs. you set to work, first licking up his release from his skin. it really isnt a bad taste, settling on your tongue nicely before you swallow. you nose along his shaft, breathing in his muskiness, tip hitting your lips. you gather some of his cum and use it as makeshift lube, stroking him slowly as you open your lips to take the tip in.

“fuck!” he yelps. “i swear it feels better each time.” although he says the last part in a hushed voice, you’re afraid the mic is still picking him up. you glance back at the chat, but don’t see any indication of his proclamation. you still shush him.

“mayfly, you need to take this damn scarf off. i need to see you.”

“hmm, i don’t think you’re allowed to tell me what to do. remember who’s in charge here,” you say as you come up for air, stroking him through your sentence. 

“you’re playing with fire,” he bites out, jolting his hips as he nears his release for the second time that night.

“maybe i wanna be burned,” you shoot back, tongue flicking his slit. he growls darkly at you in warning before a small smirk makes his way onto his face. a comical, exaggerated moan falls from his lips, the first vowels of your name slowly being said in the fake throes of his orgasm. in panic, your hand shoots up to squeeze his throat, forcing him to swallow the rest of your name. “don’t you dare-”

“i would never, bonbon. i’m only playing. remove the scarf.” you huff, snatching the scarf from his mask. “good. hello chat! long time no see!” he gives a tiny wave from where his hands remain tied. “now, keep going love.”

you roll your eyes at him before engulfing him in your hot mouth once again. after being denied of his sight for so long, the view of you on your knees, delivering him pleasure, pushes him one step closer to his orgasm. 

the hot and heavy weight of him in your mouth turns even you on, your eyelids at half-mast as you stare up at him, vash’s muscles twitching with each sensation that flares through his nerves. he sees you eyeing him, looking down at you and maintaining eye contact as he softly whimpers. your arousal is dripping from you at this point, and you may come yourself just from watching him. he spots your hand that isn’t stroking him move down to your panties, gaze heady as he watches you pleasure yourself, your eyes falling shut.

>this is so incredibly hot

> yess bonbon wrap that man around your finger

the sight of you having his most intimate part in your mouth fires him up. he jolts his hips suddenly, making you gag, your throat constricting around him just right. he wails, thighs tensing as that one little move nearly pushes him over. you meant to glare up at him for making you gag, but his pretty and delicate moans soften your fleeting harsh exterior. 

you pop off of him, staving off his orgasm. he whines at your denial. “bonbon, please, just let me cum. i’ll let you do anything else you want to me.”

“hm, i don’t want to give it to you that quickly. you think i’m easy? try again.”

his jaw clenches. “you’re the only one that can make me feel like this please do something. i would be on my knees right now if i could. but just please let me cum, i promise i’m your good boy!”

“now was that so hard pretty boy? all you had to do was ask~” with that final lilt in your voice, you quickly deepthroat him, holding down his thighs with your arms while your hands splay out against his stomach, massaging his muscles as they clench up. a barrage of noises fill your ears. the tightening squeak of leather on metal. the shaking of the loose screws in his desk chair. a punched out, surprised breath above you and then…shattered, pleased groans as he shoots his release down your throat. you hold steady, even though your gag reflex is begging for relief from the intrusion in your throat, massaging his shaft with your tongue as the final spurts make their way home in your throat. you finally let up once his moans turn into overstimulated mewls. 

you sit back on your haunches, rubbing your hands on his thighs. the both of you stare at each other, incredulous for a moment, lost in a world of your own before the consistent dinging of the chat pulls you two back. you both burst out laughing, falling onto his thighs, feeling the burning heat of his body lean over you in an armless hug. 

>this is one for the books

>SOMEONE SCREENSHOT THIS THIS IS PEAK

>they have wayyy more than chemistry here they gotta be dating now

>how are you gonna top this??

vash begins to talk with the chat now, his sentences a little funny, his words slurring together as he recovers. you make slow work of untying the ties from his hands, rubbing his wrists and placing a gentle kiss on each arm.

“can we all give a round of applause for bonbon? let’s appreciate that they’ve made me cum harder than even last time! twice! i really don’t know if i can top this stream now.” he grasps your head as you move to stand up, turning to give you a grateful kiss. he gives one last peck to your cheek before returning to the chat, not seeing the sheepish smile that is etched on your burning face.

>r u 2 seeing each other

>if not yall should you seem cute together

>our man x bonbon who woulda thought? i mean…all of us did

“ok ok settle down everyone, i know we’re all riding our highs of what just happened but i really wanted this to be a special thank you to everyone here-”

>lies! fess up you coward! you like them!

>its so obvious you cant hide it! there was way more than lust in your guys’ eyes

“uh. well. hey you see, that’s because-”

>wait hows bonbon doing? speech!

you watch as the rest of the chat agrees. you swoop in, stopping vash from trying to navigate whatever the two of you have publicly on his channel. “im ok guys. im actually really happy to be here and to have experienced this all. so i want to say thank you not only to this beautiful, gorgeous man-” you feel vash’s arms hug you tightly to his side. “-but also to you, for being so engaging and supportive of me being here. with that, i’ll see everyone next week in the chat!” you wave goodbye to them. 

“before i sign off here actually, i do have something to say.” you look down at vash, not expecting him to look so nervous. he inhales slowly. “we’re actually dating. love and peace!” he quickly clicks the end stream button, hiding his face in your side. 

you stand there, stunned. did he really just make you two official on his live stream?

you bring his head out from where it's stuck to your hip, finally able to see the embarrassed look on his face. “care to explain? that wasn’t just a hail mary to get more donations right?”

he looks aghast at your suggestion. “no! never! ever! would i do that to you. ugh, i actually have been wanting to ask you officially to be with me, and my love for you just reached its peak there and i needed to get it out. i’m sorry-”

“dont apologize. i’ve been waiting for this for awhile… i just wasn’t expecting it to be during your stream. i mean, don’t you think they won’t like that you’re taken now?” he scoffs at you.

“hey bonbon, look at the screen.” you glance over, reading through the comments that were still coming in.

>YES my endgame. i can finally go to bed peacefully

>if i can’t have him, i want bonbon to have him

>real long time coming you two. wishing you the best. although, i hope this isn’t the end of his streams

your eyes well up, glad for all the support and happy that vash’s camming career didn’t just end. vash stands, taking you in his arms. “so does that mean you’ll have me as your boyfriend?” you squeal at the word, throwing yourself into his embrace. the road you two took to get here from just friends can be called anywhere from unconventional to ludicrous. you nod your agreement into his chest. vash whoops his victory and pulls back from you.

“now~” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. glancing down, you see he’s hard. again. “i seem to recall you getting off from me cumming into your mouth.” you gasp at his raunchiness, swatting at his chest. he cackles, grabbing your hand in his to drag you back to him, his other hand swiping at your lower half, feeling the wetness there. “i don’t believe you quite got there though. mind if i get that reward you mentioned earlier?”

he begins walking you toward his bed. you giggle at his antics. “you’re insatiable.”

“stop being so desirable.” with that, he has you trapped beneath him, loving kisses being shared throughout the rest of the night.

a/n: sigh...i need this man like air. thanks for your support! xoxo

divider

[redsrooftopprincess]

Assassin

Raphael x Fem Reader

No warnings, just pain

Part 2

...

He's always had a sixth sense about his children. Perhaps it is part of his mutation, perhaps it is fatherly instincts, but when his more emotional son went missing late into the wedding reception, he went looking.

He finds Raphael sitting on a secluded bench by the house, sheltered from the moonlight by branches overhead. When he approaches, his second son looks up at him with tear filled eyes. He places a soft paw against his cheek.

"Will you tell me what is troubling you?" He asks, knowing that pushing will get him nowhere. His son looks up at him with a lost expression, before shame and anguish turn his features.

"I can't..." He says, looking away.

Splinter frowns, now more concerned. This must be serious. "Take your time..." He reassures, as he sits beside him, placing a paw on Raphael's shoulder. The internal conflict is clear on his face, and he can't meet his father's gaze for several long moments.

"I love her, Dad... I love her so damn much..." he finally responds, breath hitching at the confession, needing a moment before he can continue. "And... every time I think I got a handle on it she goes out with some jerk... or she does something really sweet... or she just... looks at me. And I'm right back where I started."

He grips the bench hard, wood cracking under strong tridactyl hands, "God, I haven't hated it this much since I was a kid," he laughs humorlessly. It took him so long to find peace with himself. With all the things he could never have.

"I was good, you know? For *so long* I was good... Then she turns up and suddenly I..." He shakes his head. You'd come into his world and he'd started *wanting* things again. Impossible things.

He'd walked down the aisle with you as Best Man and Maid of Honor, and the whole time his friends were getting married, he was looking at you. And when the bride was being kissed and you turned to smile at him from the other side of the archway...

"What I'd give for a chance, you know? Just a shot. Just to see if we *might* work..." His voice cracks as if, if he were insistent enough, the Gods would let him have this one thing, "because I think we would. I think we..." His voice choking off into a sob as Splinter pulls him down into a hug.

Tomorrow, his gratitude for you will return. He really does love you, and wouldn't trade what he already has with you for anything. But tonight, as the party winds down across the lawn, Raphael weeps into his father's shoulder, mourning the love he can never give you.

...

Less a lover, more a fighter

But I'm tired of fighting to hold on

Got too many scars to hide them

So it's easier being on my own

But you

Shoot first, draw blood, before I know

Yeah you

One shot, one touch, and I let go

How did this happen?

My walls were up and

You moved without a sound

Never imagined, like an assassin

One look took me down...

Assassin, Sultan + Shepherd

...

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch

(let me know if you want in on the tag list ♥️)

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Murder Sibling Tuu

🐱

So concept

Yuu is the eldest and comes from a HUGE family with lots of siblings that are part of criminal legacy. Literally all of them are some sort of mafia boss, assassin, drug lord, or bank robber except for Yuu.

This isn't because Yuu hates it, nope its just not their thing. Their little siblings always go to Yuu for ideas on their next murder/heist/ect and they always give the best advice ever despite not being a criminal.

When they get isekaied, they didn't know that their family also came with until its too late.

Let's say they're dating Floyd since that was the original context. Under cut cause length

It's Vargas camp and as things come to a close there's another attack, the masked person overpowers Vargas and locks onto a group.of Yuus friends, chasing the first Years, Riddle, Malleus, Jade and Floyd.

The others scatter, just to get stuck in (non lethal) traps to be picked off later. The killer is smart and though Malleus is powerful he is outwitted when he caught in magic resistant trap— this damn killer was PLANNING it.

Floyd and the group fight back. But they are all beat up pretty bad, thankfully, there is no stab marks as the psychopath seems to be dragging this out for their enjoyment.

As they kick Floyd onto the ground as they spill the first drop of blood of the night as the killer slashes them and leaves a "superficial", but concerning wound on Floyds abdomen.

Jade screams out at his brother in horror, show more emotion than he ever has in this damn life, despite where he's trapped, he risks blot and shoots out a simple spell at the killers head just for them to dodge.

"You want to see my face that badly?" The voice was filled with a sickeningly honeyed tone of amusement. "I guess that's fair since I intend to kill you... may as well let you see who killed you."

"You wont get away with this!" Sebek shrieks. The killer takes off the mask just to see... Yuu?

"Yuu? No...nonono not my shrimpy... why?! Why would you—"

"Wait wait wait. Did you say Yuu? How the fuck do you know that name?" The killer asks but something was off, this wasn't yuus voice.

Just then Yuu comes out and slide in front of Floyd protectively, ready to fight before freezing.

"TUU?!"

"Yuu?! Oh God, oh shit. Don't tell me these are your friends..."

"You stabbed my fucking boyfriend!"

"Fuck! Sorry I didn't know— oh geez...." Tuu facepalms. "Hold on, I actually have a few healing potions..."

"Um... can you explain???" Riddle wheeze.

"Everyone this one of my my Octuplets, Tuu."

"OCTUPLET??" Sebek shrieks.

"Yeah that's not even all my siblings either, don't ask I lost count"

"Damn I'm sorry about that everyone, I would have never attacked if I knew Yuu was here. But dammit, I had it all planned out and everything! I would kill off some of you and leave your bodies out so that others would warn of this place and bam! A buncha idiots would explore and I get to practice my assassinations and murder techniques! Can't believe I wasted all that time though now....".

"Wait, Yuu why aren't you surprised?" Ace gawks

"Oh big sibling Yuu over here is weird. Literally everyone in our family's a murderer EXCEPT yuu which is suprising since they always have the best ideas for maiming!" Tuu giggles

"Wait... if your here does that mean—" a new voice interrupts Yuu

"Sort of! I assume our entire family is out in this new world but we haven't all been able to find each other. Thankfully, me and Tuu happened to be summoned together!"

"Who the fuck is that?!" Jack barks

"That's Kyu." Kyu stands proudly in their formal attire that's decades old as they twirl a cigar.

"Why didn't you reach out to me? I know Tuu is to busy murdering things but I know for a fact you knew where I was. Im the oldest! You report to me!" yuu scolds

"You're older by 10 minutes." Tuu interrupts as they pour the potion on Floyd.

"Shut up!"

Kyu shrugs. "I'm building a criminal empire."

"What" Deuce blinks.

"I said im building a criminal empire. I was the leader of several mafias and other organized gangs back in my world and now its back to square one! I need my underlings I'm not just gonna light my own cigars now, cmon!"

"That sounds like Kyu alright..." Yuu sighs.

"Plus then I'll be able to magically enroll our whole family into NRC just with a little blackmail as we learn about this world!"

"Crowleys pathetic you don't need a criminal empire you just need 5 dollars" Epel sighs.

"Perhaps." Kyuu shrugs again and takes a puff. "But having an interdimensional drug empire once we find away home is an opportunity I must not let pass by. Speaking of which, give me your phone, Yuu."

Yuu hands over the phone to Kyu. "Now you should be able to contact us and I'll keep you updated once I find the whole family. Oh yeah, be sure to send pictures of all your friends to the group chat along with their full names so we know who not to kill, maim, target—"

"I get it." Yuu sighs before helping Floyd up. "I love you guys but damn!"

"You love th—" Ace covers Deuces mouth.

"Sorry Floydie!" Tuu chuckles cuteley. "I hope this doesn't make things awkward between us! Oh just forget about this encounter! I can't wait to meet you when Yuu brings you home for dinner!" Tuu waves

"Eat shit." Floyd huffs. "Awe you're adorable, just take good care of Yuu! If you break their heart ill slaughter you like the damn animal you are!~" tuu practially sings

"Yuu can do that on their own." "But they won't that's the issue"

Tuu sighs again. "Now im gonna have to release everyone from their traps now ueueueu... there were so many boys with such wearable skin! I already had the suit planned out for when I got them!" Tuu mopes.

"Right just tell our parents—" "bosses" "tell our bosses i love them and to please take it easy with all the murder please."

"No promises Yuuie!~ bye bye!~" Tuu cackles and they run off into the woods and Ryu dissapears

The rest of the night is Yuu profusely apologizing and having to skirt around questions for legal reasons

And also

"Why are all of you named Yuu or something similar"

"My bosses named the second oldest Tuu. Do you really think they're good with names?"

[koolkitty9]

LET ME FINALLY GIVE MY THOUGHTS ON THIS SCENE RIGHT HERE. Hi I am obsessed with this scene for absolutely no reason. I have MANY THOUGHTS on it and I want to share my analysis on this entire minute scene. It has been almost EIGHT YEARS NOW since it aired (Sorry some of this got formatted weird by Tumblr hhhhh)

Right here, you can see the moment where Yumoto's heart just drops into his stomach and he realizes he MAY actually lose for the first time ever as a Battle Lover (Which would be A VERY INTERESTING THING to see!)

Now why do they show him in the past? It shows that this is a REAL fear of his, losing Gora is such a big deal to him. This MAY have happened before at home but as a child, this scene takes place during the events we saw with the tiny Beppu bros in ep 10. Where he was left alone

Starting off with this, WHERE is this coming from? Well, Sailor Moon S1Ep1, we see Usagi having an attack JUST like this, and it is a defensive attack, which I believe Yumoto's own attack was based on. Wombat MUST have known about this, I believe he NEVER thought it would occur

The others are confused at this new power (Power #5 for Yumoto in s2) meanwhile, the twins are horrified/even MORE angry at him. Aki tells Haru to not falter and Haru tries to shoot Yumoto in the chest to stop/fatally injure him at this point

Atsushi mentions Yumoto has stronger emotions compared to the VEPPer (He shames them btw), we learn in the OVA, Yumoto's powers are loved based, we DO get hints of in ep9 when Yumoto performs his Love Sprinkle attack. En notes that the twins underestimated how strong Yumoto is

To me, this is just a VERY extreme panic attack but since his powers are with love, it is amplified due to his love for Gora. Kinshiro notes that both past and current Yumoto are merging. I HC that Yumoto was always destined to become Scarlet, so this moment has taken him back to the time when he was a child and this has somehow made itself known in the universe. This could be a result from the alien technology (or could just be nothing and Im looking too deep into a single line)

Everyone isn't sure WHAT is going on, Ryuu tells him to get a grip after he learns Yumoto is "Losing himself to fear" and tries to touch him. As we see when Haru tried to hit Yumoto, this power is actively protecting Yumoto while doing damage to anyone who tries to hurt him. I actually find this to be SUPER interesting

It's more interesting when he calms down after the twins realize how strong he is, I believe this is his true anger over the entire situation. By this point Yumoto is sick of it, he has been fighting these two for so long over his own brother. He has almost been killed and now He's ready to do the same to them. When the boys all come running to stop Yumoto, they all have different expressions (Can't see Io's :(( ) The twins though, are horrified as they know if they get hit, THEY ARE DONE FOR! (It's finEEEE)

En's first thought is to grab Yumoto to try to calm him down somewhat by grounding him back to reality

Atsushi (just like a mom as Yumoto says about him) gently grabs Yumoto's face and tries to get him to look at him, while also shielding him from either himself or another attack from the twins. You can actually see him and Io pulling Yumoto closer to them

Ryuu and Wombat don't add much, BUT Ryuu does actually support Yumoto's head when they all fall onto the ground. Which Yumoto's head SHOULD be in Ryuu's lap (In theory).

As for the dark place? Yumoto probably experienced a severe form of tunnel vision along with the influence of his powers. IMO, He was so overwhelmed with the thought of losing his only family forever that he forgot about his found family as well.

adding to how Yumoto is being held, Ryuu seems to have Yumoto's forearms pinned, Io has his arms around Yumoto's chest, and En and Atsushi I CAN'T really see where they're grabbing at but it but it does show you even with their strength it takes all four of them to subdue Yumoto

And uhhh I think that's it really for this scene...for now... Once Yumoto remembers how he's loved by his friends and he's not alone, he transforms into his highest form to date :)))) also these frames of him are pretty lol this scene had a lot of gorgeous frames OKAY BYE!

I WANTED TO ADD MORE PICS BUT RAN OUTTA SPACE

I didnt fit ALL I wanted to talk about but ANOTHER TIME! OKAY BYE FOR REALSIES

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

DINE & DASH ───

chris o’doyle 𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “Deep in my enemy I find the lover.” — ‘The Cid’, Pierre Corneille

pairing. chris o’doyle x waitress!reader

summary. you meet chris o’doyle 3 times. the 1st, he’s got a gun pointed at you. the 2nd, you learn his name. the 3rd, you’ve got a gun pointed at him.

warnings. swearing, guns, mention of death, robbery, shooting

word count. 4k

a/n. i recognize this fic doesn’t actually have any romance in it, so considering the reception i might make a part 2😄 (perhaps with an emotional love confession and fluffy smut :o)

i.

Now, here’s the thing about living in Boston, circa 1978, working at a diner: you’ve gotta buy a gun.

Especially because the shitty diner you work at is downtown. Downtown is utterly fucked at night, where all the doped up creeps, gangsters & prostitutes come out to play.

It’s by an off-chance (off-chance being that your boss was a day drinker who couldn’t handle the diner at night without throwing up) that you work the night shift. 

So, the gun. You don’t know how to use one, buy one, hell, you don’t even know what you’re looking for; you just know you need to buy a fucking gun, because you cannot take any more attempted robberies at the diner. 

(There have been several, at this point, and the only way you’ve avoided having the diner robbed blind is by pretending to be one of those rough-‘round-the-edges folk who could kill someone with a broom if properly motivated. 

Think, the kind of person, who, if faced with a gun in a robbery, would laugh at the colour of your gun and smash your head in with a napkin dispenser.)

One night, you’re coming back to the cashier after refilling all the coffee pots, and a man you’ve never seen before is sitting at the front counter. 

“Sorry ‘bout the wait,” you say, retying your alabaster apron, smoothing down the wrinkles. 

The man - who looked exactly like those rough-‘round-the-edges folk - shakes his head. “No fault to you, girl.” He says, Irish accent curling around his words like a snake. 

“So, what’re you havin’?” You say, lighting a cigarette, reveling in the nicotine-filled rush it sends right up to your brain. 

The man inhales his own cigarette, staring at you intently for a moment. His gaze makes you squirm, running all over your body. It's nothing out of the ordinary for you, to be eye-fucked by a shady creep in the late night, but his attention is laser-focussed, like he could see through you.

“Mmm,” the man broke his silence, and his gaze drifted elsewhere, “d’you got red ale?” 

Your eyebrows lift at the request, but you complied, grabbing a pint and filling it to the brim with the man’s choice of drink. When you hand it to him, he looks as surprised as you do: “What kind of Boston diner sells red ale?”

“You ask, darlin’, you receive.” The pet name is a conscious decision on your part; there’s something about the man that sets alarm bells off in your head, but you can’t place any context, so you try to appease him.

The man looks at you, then the beer, and then shrugs. “Fuck it,” he murmurs under his breath, and downs the whole thing in one. 

You put out your cigarette, resisting the urge to roll your eyes; now, you’d have to fumble around, wait to see if he’d pay & leave or order something else. 

However, he does neither, pulling out a shiny Colt Python from his leather jacket pocket, pointing it at you and cocking off the safety. 

Your heart jumps in your throat, constricting your breathing, and your hands immediately come up. Everything happens so fast, and you can’t really process anything but your fear. 

You consider doing your act, your confident, no-nonsense, rough skank farse, but something tells you he won’t believe it, just shoot you point blank. Those eyes of his, crystalline blue with little to no emotion tinting them, sends shivers down your spine.

“C’mere,” he gestures to you, “‘round the counter.” He’s chewing on the end of his wet cigarette, not having had the chance to pull it out and inhale.

You do as he asks, taking gentle, tentative steps in front of him. You walk carefully, so as not to startle him; make him shoot you.  

“Where’s yer boss?” The man says, running a calloused hand through his brown hair, gun still trained on you. 

You gulped, focussing on breathing properly. “He’s - he does- he doesn’t work the night shift.” You make out in a painful stutter.

The man raised a brow at this, finally pulling out his cigarette and leaving it on the ashtray. “Well,” he looked as if he was weighing his options, “you lot keep a safe in here?”

You nodded vehemently, your throat still clenched in fear. 

“Go on then. Show me.” He waved the gun haphazardly, and you made quick work of the situation: grabbing the store keys from underneath the desk, and skittering to your boss’s office. 

You pushed open the loud, creaky door then you immediately dropped to your knees and unlocked the safe. Inside was a jaw-dropping amount of cash, an amount your boss had conveniently failed to mention was being kept in the store — as well as a cute little Smith & Wesson .38. 

Before either of you could tell what the other was doing, you’d gone in for the kill: he grabbed the cash, you grabbed the pistol. 

Sure, your boss was an absent-minded fuck who always did you dirty by giving you the night-shift, but he was your boss, and a good one at that; he paid you on time, usually never said no to your vacation requests, and was generally well-mannered and kind. To top it off, you knew he had a real large family to feed. 

“Sweetheart, I jus’ want the cash. Yer boss owes us a great deal of debt, alright?” The man said, his own hands in the air now. He had slipped his gun back into the holster that hung by his belt, and he knew just as well as you did that the slightest movement toward that area would have you shooting bullets like a fucking madman. 

Never underestimate someone who was jumpy and holding a gun: they were trigger happy. 

You inhaled and exhaled shakily, your fingers hesitantly brushing past the safety lever. “All of it?” you said helplessly, trying to erase the mental image of how your boss would look later, absolutely crushed that the store, his prized possession, had been robbed. Under your “watchful” eye. 

The stranger considered this, his mustache curling as his face contorted around the idea. “…Most of it,” he settled on, cornflower blue eyes peering past the gun and instead landing on you. 

“Why,” he continued, shifting the weight between his feet, “you wanna dip your toes in the water, doll?”

You recoiled, both at the pet name and the connotation you also wanted to rob your boss, but you knew that if he knew you were just going to give your cut back to your boss, the stranger would come back and rob the store all over again. 

Instead, you nodded curtly. You figured you could finally buy a gun with a portion of the money, so if this stranger ever came knocking ‘round your place, you could satiate his suspicion by pointing a piece at him. 

The man let out a sigh of relief at the compromise reached. “Guns down,” he said, and you dropped your hand to the floor. He didn’t reach for his Colt Python, so you visibly relaxed as well. 

After a few moments of mumbling under his breath and thumbing through the bills, he shoved two thirds of the cash into his leather jacket pockets, then tossed the rest into your trembling hands. 

“Spend it wisely, darlin’. Don’t go buying all the pretty dresses money can afford - you’ll get caught.” With that, the stranger stuffed his pockets with his hands and exited promptly. 

You gulped, beads of sweat trailing down your back and making you squirm — there was no way that just fucking happened, right?

Right? You thought. Jesus fucking christ, you really had to get a better job. A better place to live now, too; the stranger knew your face and your name — seriously, screw the diner waitress name tags meant to make you look approachable — so if you were, at any point in time, considered a loose end, they’d be coming for you next. 

It’s only then, you realize, he never paid for the ale. 

ii. 

The second time you see the stranger is not even two weeks after the diner-robbery incident. 

Following the robbery, your boss gave you time off so he could sort the mess out — as well as his debts, after you told him what the robber told you — and you found yourself with the small bit of cash you portioned off from the safe to buy a gun. 

You followed word of mouth on where exactly to purchase a gun for days, keenly listening in on loose-lipped men who came in too late at night or too early in the morning to even consider the possibility that the sweet waitress who kept butting in to give them a refill could be listening. 

Finally, you entered a bar in anticipation: one of the loose-lipped men mentioned a man who dealt out small revolvers that you thought would do just perfectly for space in your purse, right in that very bar. 

Time was dripping drearily toward midnight, and the wad of cash wedged within the waistband of your flare jeans burned guiltily against you as you searched for the man selling — it wasn’t your money, after all. 

You shook yourself mentally, however, reminding yourself to consider it hush money, or trauma money, for the ordeal you experienced. Then, you spotted the seller who’d been described: average height, lanky, wild brown hair. He was speaking animatedly at the bar counter, silver rings on his fingers gleaming in the dull bar light. 

You slid onto the black, faux leather stool beside him, quietly informing the idle bartender you wanted a rum & coke, before leaning into the ear of the seller. 

“Smith & Wesson, model 36.” you whispered huskily, then promptly preoccupying yourself with smiling at the barkeep and thanking him for the drink. You were a little nervous, getting involved in Boston’s underground crime world, even if it were just for a simple gun purchase. 

The man stopped his storytelling to down his drink — red ale, you noted, brows furrowing at the unexpected nostalgia of last time — and speak to you without turning completely. 

“Straight to business, are we?” He said silkily, and you froze, parsing through your memories to correctly match this voice with that voice— “Name’s Chris O’Doyle, and yes, thank you for “asking”, I can provide you wit’ a beautiful little S&W model 36.”

When you didn’t respond eagerly, in stark contrast to your previous behavior, the stranger from the robbery — Chris O’Doyle, you now knew — turned to face you completely.

“…Well, this is jus’ grand, isn’t it, doll?” Chris said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

“Fuck’s sake,” you blurted out, pinching your nose bridge. “I didn’t— why the fuck are you here?”

Chris raised a tentative brow, “I’ve got my fingers in all kinds of pies, darlin’. Can’t expect a smart Irish man not to, eh?”

“Jesus christ,” you murmured under your breath. You thought you wouldn’t have to see this man ever-fucking again, but as fate turned out, you just did. 

You steeled your nerves: you’d buy the gun. It was just as well to buy it from him, so he could see you weren’t to be messed with. That, and so he wouldn’t go sniffing around for the money you gave back to your boss. 

“I need a —“ You began, but were irritatingly cut off by Chris.

“—Smith & Wesson, model 36. I know, darlin’, I heard ya the first time. Now, let’s get out of here, I can’t just hand the thing over in here,” he said, before pressing himself flush against you and whispering in your ear. “Plus, it’s best you leave: some of the shitstains in here are gettin’ ideas, seein’ a pretty lady like you, all alone.”

Suddenly, Chris got up, and snaked an arm around your waist. “Darlin’!” He exclaimed, sounding drunk out of his mind, “I don’t- don’t wan’ go feckin’ home!” 

“Play along, unless you wanna use that new gun of yer’s on one of the creeps in here later,” He continued sneakily under his breath. 

Begrudgingly, you did as asked, and supported him up, trying to look like a tired wife dragging her dumbass husband back home. “I told you to quit fucking drinking!” you shouted, smacking him upside the head and dragging him by the arm. 

“Christ, woman! Can’t a man jus’ have a wee drink?” 

“Shut the fuck up, you damn headache!” You screeched back at him. 

Okay, you admit: it was kind of fun to shout insulting names at the man who’d been haunting your dreams since that night.

You hadn’t been having the… best sleep, as of late. Always heaving, waking up at ungodly hours after the dream ended with the cold tip of Chris’s gun pressed neatly at your temple, always unable to get back to sleep for fear the dream would continue and you’d be shot dead in it. 

When you and Chris had successfully averted all public eye, exiting the bar and stumbling to a street a couple blocks away where a car was parked, he let up the drunken husband act. 

“Smart of you, y’know,” he informed you absently, leaning into the open window of his car. He continued by rummaging through the vehicle, trying to find the trunk key in his storage compartment.

“Smart of me to what?” you echoed back, looking up and down the street in case someone was walking past or driving by to witness your incredibly shady and conspicuous arms deal. 

“To buy a gun,” said Chris, a certain lilt to his tone that made you know he thought it was the obvious answer. 

“Yeah, well, you made sure of that.” you said with an eye roll. If you sounded comfortable, it’s because you were, at least a little bit. 

In the small timeframe you’d known and spoken to Chris O’Doyle, you figured out three things about him: he was a penchant for the theatrical, if not a little bit of a procrastinator, was plenty lofty, and probably treated customers and friends like pure gold. You knew that if you were buying, he would be on his best behavior, and do all in his power to keep that happening, be it moving the sun, moon and stars — or kill someone. 

“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?” Chris questioned, brow raised as he slipped out of his car window with the key in his hand. 

You thinned your eyes. “Hm, I don’t know, maybe the fact you threatened me with a gun and robbed me blind has me worried for my safety?

He rounded the vehicle, unlocking the trunk and pulling the heavy metal lid up. “I didn’t rob you blind, sweetheart. I robbed your boss blind. And, the gun’s standard business practice. Protect the messenger, threaten the target, all that.”

You sighed exasperatedly, but ignored him, instead opting to pull the wedge of cash out of your pants. You handed the entire wad to him, then opened up your other hand to receive the revolver.

 “You can count, right? Otherwise, your boss’s been robbed blind for a while.” Chris mocked, a sly grin spreading on his lips while his hand hovered above the trunk full of guns for the weapon of your choice. 

Once he found the gun, you snatched the piece out of his hand impatiently, discreetly tucking it away where your bills had been. “I don’t want any more dirty money on me. Enough to buy this damn gun is all I need.” 

“And a few cigarette packs it seems,” he shot back, clearly noticing the cash you handed him was short of the amount he originally gave you. 

“S’not any of your business what I buy.” You said tersely, then quickly walked off and left him without so much as a goodbye. 

After a second thought: “Now stay the fuck out of my life!” you shouted down the street, turning and not looking back.  

iii. 

The thing about living in Boston, circa 1978, working at a diner is that you’ve gotta buy a gun.

Now, you had gone ahead and bought a gun, but it was only ever supposed to be a precaution. Something you brought to work, or when you went out late at night. 

And, of course you never had to use it: you did have normal, functioning common sense, so you never found yourself in situations where your gun became more than just something taking up space in your purse. 

But with Chris O’Doyle, you found, you threw your common sense — as well as your precaution — straight to the wind. 

It’s late at night, quite similar to all the other times you’d encountered the man, like a certain time of night had him summoned like a fucking demon, and he appears. Right in the middle of the diner, sitting in that same spot he’d pulled out his pistol and robbed you. 

After a while, the incident stopped bothering you - as well as the fact you now owned a fucking gun - but you never did get Chris’s face out of your head, those piercing blue eyes. Said eyes were now staring at you straight, before trailing off, like the fucking criminal was embarrassed. 

You don’t know what exactly was running through your head, but, again, Chris O’Doyle and you equaled common sense and precautions funeral, and you immediately dragged yourself to the breakroom, where you kept your stuff during a shift — including your purse — and you came back out with your shiny, unused Smith & Wesson model 36 gleaming in your hands. 

“Fucking—“ Chris cursed, when he saw you come out with the gun, which was trained on him shakily. “Put the damn gun down! Jesus, d’you even know how to use that thing?”

You bit your lip, deciding not to answer his very valid, very biting question, for you did not know how to use a gun properly. “Just - what the fuck are you doing here, Chris?”

Deep in your mind, a more unbothered part of you wondered why you kept saying that when Chris appeared, like the mustached man was some creep ex who was stalking you. 

“I’m just fucking peckish, girl. This is a diner, is it not?” He exclaimed, like what you were doing was manic and unexpected. 

You stared at him incredulously, reluctantly putting down the hand that held the gun. You’d told him to, paraphrasing, “completely and totally fuck off”. What part of that did he not get?

“The part you don’t get, darlin’, is that I don’t care.” Chris shook his head, and you were so distraught you didn’t register you’d actually said what you were thinking out loud. 

“God forbid you do!” You said, an infuriated laugh coiling around your words. “Order, then please grant me the blessing of never seeing you, ever again. Like I already fucking asked.”

Chris puffed up his cheeks, then blew the air out of them. “Red ale.” he said simply, looking like that was it, before continuing and making you freeze midway between quickly running to the kitchen to grab and fill the glass. 

“And, eh…” he scanned through the plastic menu the diner offered, “a slice of Boston cream pie.”

You smiled at him tensely, hoping he knew it was fake as hell and meant to make him uncomfortable. “Coming right up,” you ground out through gritted teeth. 

You thus disappeared into the diner kitchen - though not without first expertly hiding your pistol back in your purse - busying yourself with warming up the slice of pie in the ancient microwave your boss believed to be a holy grail heirloom as it was from his mother. It was loud, took too long, and always made the food too hot — but now, you were reveling in its flaws.

Loud means you didn’t have to hear Chris and whatever the hell he was doing, too long meant you could stall (and, pray he’d get bored and leave), and too hot meant that, later, you could privately make fun of him for burning his tongue, then have to blow on it and look like a little kid. 

When it finished, you haphazardly threw it onto a plate, and filled Chris’s ale just half-way. If he wanted service here, fine, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to get good service. 

Then, you handed it to him with a loud clatter on the counter, startling him out of his chain-smoking stupor. He made a face at your antics, but put out his cigarette and picked up the fork on the plate to begin eating anyway. 

Finally, with having served Chris his stupid pie and stupid red ale, you could count down to the second until you never had to see him again, and you could finally erase him from your mind, forget how his gun felt trained on you, icy blue eyes digging into your spine. 

However, much like you, it seemed an entirely different group of people with a grudge against Chris O’Doyle also threw common sense and precaution out the window when they saw him. 

One moment you were pulling a cigarette out of the sleek, metal case sitting in the pocket of your apron, the next, Chris was jumping over the counter and shouting at you to duck. 

You did as told almost immediately - his tone of voice had grown serious, cold, something you’d only heard briefly the night he robbed the diner. 

Bullets tore through the diner, completely shattering and destroying the glass windows. The shots ricocheted against the walls, making the whole diner shake and feel like it was going to collapse. After a few more minutes of rapid gunfire eating at the building, something flew in from the same direction of the bullets. 

“Good fucking riddance, Chris O’Doyle!” A voice called from outside, Several vehicles could be heard driving away as quick as they came, not even bothering to check if Chris was dead or alive. 

You guessed that they — whoever “they” were — were a confident bunch, but unfortunately for them, Chris was still alive following that clownish display of gunfire. 

Hidden beneath the diner counter, you laid against Chris’s bandy chest, his arms holding him close to you, like he was a kid and you were his prized balloon. One of his hands petted at the crown of your head, almost soothingly, while the other hand fumbled with his signature Colt Python. 

Then, an ear shattering boom exploded from the “something” that was thrown into the building. You supposed it also set fire to quite a few things, for the water sprinklers set off and soaked the entire building. 

For a long moment, it was just you and Chris, laying on the floor beneath the diner counter, sprinkler water soaking you both. Your hands were clenched impeccably tight on his leather jacket sleeve, and his hand had, like on autopilot, begun carding through your locks comfortingly. It seemed to comfort him more than you however, his breathing sounding stilted, and, with your pressed right up against his chest, you knew the situation had shocked him. 

“That happen to you often?” you said, disregarding all questions that were clambering around your head for this softer, more considerate one. 

Sure, the man maddened you to no end, and you still had dreams of him shooting you in the diner or jumping you in the street, but you were human, and he was too. Chris seemed like the kind of man who was inured to all sorts of sick and twisted things, so this event having shocked him surely had to be a large one. 

And so, you knew it was empathy that needed to be used here; you recognized the struggle of a human vulnerable. 

“More than I’d like,” Chris whispered back, his eyes shutting closed, surely replaying the entire situation behind his eyelids. 

You could digest this all later, and he could talk about it later - if he wanted - but for now, it was just you and him in the diner, your voice gentle, his touch shaky. 

[wavypotatochips]

i love sergio so much, can u write another one? maybe where he likes to tease reader a lot but she’s very shy and introvert so sometimes he stops doing it because he might be scared he could offender her, like he’s very soft and lovey with her and maybe they both have a crush on each other ?

𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Sergio Ramos x Female Reader

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.4k

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: You are a shy, introvert photographer who PSG hires to take pictures of the players. You have always had a soft spot for Sergio Ramos, even before you were hired. With more time spent together, your crush is just growing, especially considering how sweetly he treats you. One day, He believes he has overstepped the mark one day when he does something that makes you flee.

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: I am so sorry for the wait!! (college has me in a chokehold rn) Of course I can write another! Thank you so much for requesting (: I'm not truly sure how to convey a very shy/ introverted individual, but I tried my best! Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

[Translator Spanish is used- Note that translation may be wrong.]

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ♥

With just a few seconds remaining, the striker has  a chance to score and is going to kick, but Sergio stops him, giving PSG the victory. You smile to yourself and raise your camera to your eyes while shooting pictures of everyone as the boys rush over to him to celebrate. In order to capture Ramos alone, you keep the camera raised while you wait for the ideal opportunity. As your wish is granted a short while later, you start snapping quickly. He turns to look at you and gives you a wink as you peek through the camera lens to take the picture. Your heart starts to beat quickly as a flush spreads over your cheeks. "Got any good shots?," Ricardo, one of the other photographers for PSG, inquires. Ricardo, who is your age, constantly makes an effort to start a short conversation with you despite the fact that he is aware that you might not be interested in talking. But, because you two work side by side all day, you are closer to him than the other employees. You don't say much to him; you just nod your head in return as you look down at the camera and start looking through the pictures you've shot. You are a PSG employee recruited to photograph them for the social media department. As you are far from an extrovert, it comes as a surprise to you that you even got the job. Yet, social media is to thank for your opportunity. As several of the player photographs appeared on the explore page and started going viral, someone from PSG's social media team came across your profile. The next thing you know, an interview has been scheduled, and the rest is history. With butterflies in your stomach, you take a bit longer than necessary to look at the picture you just shot of Sergio Ramos. As a spectator, you have always found Sergio Ramos to be handsome, and your emotions have only gotten stronger now that you have the chance to meet him in person and get to know him better. He never appeared to mind that you were shy, and he always adjusted how he interacted with you to make sure you were at ease, which was especially important given that you spend more than half of your time with guys. He always made sure you were comfortable, whether it was by ordering the boys to step aside when he knew you were too afraid to speak up or by leaving blue raspberry jolly ranchers on your desk when you weren't looking after noticing that you were thrilled to find a blue raspberry-flavored one day in a candy jar. He always shows you the greatest kindness, but you can never tell if it's because he likes you or is simply being nice. Even though you have the largest crush on him, your mind keeps tricking you and making you overly anxious to communicate with him more than half of the time you two speak. Despite your best efforts, it seems difficult for you to make a change.

“Y/N The team is heading back through the tunnel! We should make it back before they do tunnel shots.” Ricardo exclaims, giving you a small smile and then begins to jog towards the team tunnel. You give Ricardo a small smile as you nod your head, mentally thanking him for removing your focus from the picture of Sergio Ramos. 

Sergio Ramos looks up at the bleachers and waves to everyone before gazing straight, his smile widening as he spots you walking into the team tunnel. He takes off his shirt and slings it over his shoulder, the adrenaline pumping through his veins from the exhilaration he felt. He sees you gaze down at the camera and as you move towards the tunnel, he starts to lightly jog in your way. He hopes you would compliment him on his outstanding save. Thousands of voices in the stadium have undoubtedly already applauded him, but the only words that will truly resonate with him are those that come from your mouth. He has always had his sights set on you ever since you were hired. As he is frequently surrounded by pretentious models, something about your timidity makes him feel like you are a breath of "new air," which makes him feel compelled to protect you. There hasn't been enough talk between you and him to qualify as a conversation. While he sees you as a fragile flower, he is unsure about how to approach you. The majority of the time, he makes an effort to imply that he is interested in you by showing you small acts of kindness. Other times, though, he will playfully tease you because he enjoys seeing how you respond, whether it be with a smile or a blush to the cheeks.

You hum to yourself as you enter the tunnel, keeping your distance from the players by walking close against the wall. Ramos' voice can be heard saying "Hey Y/N!" as his arm is wrapped around your neck and rests on your shoulder. You flinch a little in surprise at what he does. Your heart beats fast as you swallow anxiously and look up. Your body begins to heat up as your eyes contact him, your eyes instantly scanning down to his tattooed, shirtless torso, which is gleaming with sweat. When you glance up into his eyes, he smiles and winks at you from above. He smirks and leans in to whisper into your ear, “Me desempeñé bien hoy porque sabía que estabas mirando (I performed so good today because I knew you were watching.)”  You let out a tiny laugh since you didn't know what to say or do. You look away as your brain begins to process how close you are to his bare chest, your heart is pounding rapidly as if it is going to burst out of your chest. You look around to try and find a way out of the circumstance you are now in, your breathing starts to get faster. Sergio obviously has no malicious intentions, but this is simply how your body responds. When he notices your irregular breathing, his smirk suddenly vanishes. "Y/N are you o-" he begins, but you hurriedly push his arm off your shoulder and move swiftly in the direction of the closest restroom. Ramos was unable to do anything but watch as you almost ran away from him, his joy leaving his body and being replaced with remorse.

And the fact that he did not see you for the rest of the evening only made him feel worse. 

Meanwhile, in the restroom, your smile never fades as you recover your breath before squealing. “Oh my gosh,” you mutter to yourself, "Oh my Gosh, I can't believe that just happened!” You start whispering as you begin to recount all that just occurred. “I performed so well today for you, Y/N.” "Oh?-" you exclaim as you put your hand on your chest, “-for me?... How sweet of you. Deberías mirar las fotos que tomé hoy, te ves tan sexy(You should look at the pictures I took today, you look so hot.)” You remember the warmth that radiated from his covered in sweat body and giggle as you put your hand on the shoulder that his arm was on. That may seem disgusting, but hey, Sergio Ramos is Sergio Ramos, so even that is acceptable. Your grin then fades as you realize you are in the restroom and you glance in the mirror. You ran away from him yet again. A few weeks ago, you made a vow to yourself that you would talk to him and return his flirtations, but once again, your feet move more quickly than your lips. You groan and run your hands through your hair, too ashamed to even step back outside to see him at this point. "Next time you better speak out!," you say, pointing in the mirror at yourself. “You can do this!" You sigh once more as you realize you must return outside in order to provide the pictures you took on the field to the social media department. You expected your next opportunity to come later that night, but as soon as you went out of the bathroom, you ran into the manager of the media department and immediately began assisting them with their needs. The following day was a rest day, so there was no team meeting. Yet, as the day of the next team practice drew near, he didn't approach you to chat as he typically does. He might occasionally wave or crack a little smile at you, but he hardly ever even blinked an eye at you. You were saddened by this because you assumed that since he now thought you were awkward, he had lost interest in you.

Days have passed, and it is now officially two weeks since your last 'regular' interaction with one another. The guys are practicing right now, and you're back in the restroom, trying to convince yourself that you can talk to him. You are holding your camera and are dressed in black leggings with a PSG windbreaker because it is a little chilly outside due to the wind. You're pacing back and forth while telling yourself, “Okay Y/N…. you can do this…. How hard can it be? You talk to people all the time…. Maybe you can practice with Ricardo first…” You bite your bottom lip, trying not to let your nerves get the best of you because you haven't even attempted anything. You sigh and check your watch, realizing that practice is about to end and that you should head back to the field right now to take any last-minute shots. You give yourself one final nod of approval before heading outdoors to the practice fields.

You go down the hallways, your eyes widen as you start to hear a lot of voices, and you start to walk quickly. Of course they end practice early the day I don't need them too, you think to yourself. You witness Ramos pouring water into his mouth outside, still without a shirt. You want to scream at the sight, but you decide against it and carry on walking. YAs you start to move, you are too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice that you are walking right toward him. “Y/N?” You become aware that you are once more in front of a shirtless Sergio Ramos when he asks a question.  Your mouth starts to open and close as if you are a fish out of water as you attempt to conceal the sound of your rapid heartbeat. Come on, say something! Your mouth starts to open and close as if you are a fish out of water as you attempt to conceal the sound of your rapid heartbeat. Come on, say something! Sergio Ramos observes your frozen state for a few seconds before smiling and shaking his head. Before leaving, he puts his palm on top of your head and slightly messes up your hair. As you turn around and watch him walk away, you are upset with yourself. This time you pushed back instead of giving in, even if your neck feels like it has been sewn shut. “Sergio!,” You call out to him. He swiftly turns around with a smile on his face as he realizes you are speaking to him first. He answers, "Yes?," back. You take a sharp breath and swallow, hoping to get rid of your nerves. “You s-should put on your shirt…. I-I don't want you getting sick.” "Alright," He nods and chuckles as he quickly pulls the practice jersey back over his head. With the last inner power you have at this moment, you approach him as he was putting his shirt back on. “Sergio, I also want to apologize,”  there is a brief pause as you glance down and start to play with your camera,“I know I don’t always show you how thankful I am for the things you do for me, but I truly am. It's just my inner thoughts getting the best of me, and I believe that if I don't know what to say- then you shouldn't say anything at all.. I'm so-" "Y/N, you don't need to apologize," Ramos interrupts you and says,  “I should've never made you feel uncomfortable by invading your personal space last game… I just didn’t know how to apologize to you so I did what I thought was best and kept my distance in hopes that it made you feel better.” You give him a puzzled expression. "I didn't feel uncomfortable at all; I just responded that way because you were too hot to handle."   Your lips are swiftly covered with your free hand as you think to yourself, there is no freaking way I just said that. Your eyes widen. Ramos' eyes light up with amusement as he approaches you, hoping to taunt you a little,"Oh yeah? So, am I too hot to handle, or did you really want me to put on my shirt because you didn't want me to get sick?” You use your hand to conceal your face as much as you can because your other hand is still holding the camera. Ramos wraps his arm around you and gives you a big bear embrace as he laughs at the sight of you feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Y/N, but you are just too cute. I can't help but to mess with you a little." He glances down, but all he can see is the top of your head as you continue to mentally swear yourself out and conclude it's better to remain silent. "How about we go eat ice cream and I meet you in front of the staff housing in about two hours? He asks as he begins to rock you back and forth, "¿Eso te haría sentir mejor? (Would that make you feel better?)” He smiles once he feels you nod your head against his chest.“Great! Then it's a date.” "¿E-espera qué?(W-wait what?)" you ask, raising your head to look up at him, your chin pressing against his chest. He simply winks and releases his hold on you. "I'll see you later, princesa (princess)," he says as he turns to walk away. All you could do was look in disbelief because your brain was unable to comprehend what had just transpired. 

The one time you speak first, you get a date with your biggest crush. I suppose there are some risks that are worthwhile.

A/N: Part 2 with the ice cream date, maybe? c;

[hearts4youz]

The Captains Daughter: Chapter 7

A/N I'm pretty proud of how this one turned out... Hope ya'll like it!! comment if you wanna be added to a taglist!!

Taglist: @abbiesxox

Word count 1.4k

Ghost pov

"Copy," I said into the mic

Price had told us to meet at the top floor to retrieve our supplies.

I turned to Y/N, she had yet to prove herself helpful during this mission. Thankfully my dominant emotion at the moment is annoyance and not worry for her.

"Lets grab our shit and get out of here."

She nodded and the two of us walked around, sweeping the area for enemies. We found a staircase and ascended. The steps groaned and creaked loudly, we heard shouts from the floor above us, then footsteps pounding the floorboards. Both of us readied our weapons as we heard them speak, running up the rest of the stairs to avoid having the low ground.

"Over there, on the stairs," one of them shouted.

Fear suddenly filled me. Not for the fight, but for Y/N. I was taken back to a moment I wanted to erase from my memory.

I rounded the corner with the two Privates I had been training in tow. The mission was tedious. This place was crawling with soldiers that weren't on our side, we were severely outnumbered.

It all happened so fast.

A small man snuck up behind us. I turned around when I heard the yelp of Private Anderson. The body of Private Jones hadn't even hit the floor yet, that's how fast this man was.

Two lives taken in mere seconds because I failed to listen closely for a sneak attack.

Two lives taken because I failed to teach them how to listen for a sneak attack.

I hadn't trained them hard enough, hadn't taught them enough.

In the split second that the memory flashed into my mind, it was gone. They were gone. Reaching the top of the staircase I turned back to Y/N two steps behind me. I saw determination in her eyes, they darted around looking for danger. I saw a soldier's eyes, but also the eyes of a youth. I saw innocence, but at the same time I could tell that her eyes had seen too much. I suddenly wanted to know more about her, I wanted to see the reason behind those perplexing eyes. I wanted to-

I couldn't finish my thought before a shot rang out, I spun around to see a body behind me, Y/N had her gun raised.

I wasn't paying attention, she saved me.

I wasn't paying attention, we could have gotten killed.

Any thoughts of her were pushed back as I thanked her and switched my focus to the mission.

We heard more footsteps on the wooden floors, we ducked behind a half crumbled wall just as more soldiers entered the hallway. Without leaving our cover, Y/N and I fired multiple shots and killed them all.

I felt slightly more confident in her now that I had seen her skills. She works well under pressure, and might even rival me in shooting accuracy.

The next half hour goes smoothly. We don't see any more soldiers and manage to find our way to the top floor, we are the last to get there.

"Nice to see everyone here unharmed," Price says, sounding relieved.

everyone mumbles their agreement.

"Where's the supplies," Y/N asks.

I hadn't noticed that the room was empty.

Price sighs, "It seems that those thieves made off with it."

I look around the room at everyone, I see exhausted faces, coated with grime. Thankfully no visible injuries on anyone.

Price instructs us to leave, I walk next to soap. No one says a word as we go back the way we came. We pass battered bodies with blood pooling around them.

"Serves 'em right," Soap sneered. I chuckled at his jibe.

My gaze set on Y/N, she walked at the front next to Price. I forget that he's her dad. She hangs her head low, everyone does. Failing a mission is tough, nothing is worse than the drive back to base after a loss.

We make it out of the building, only to find that the tires of the Humvee were slashed.

"Goddamnit, fucking bastards," Price yelled. Kicking the frame of the vehicle.

As everyone was bellyaching about the car, I noticed something in the treeline. Something moved. I squinted my eyes and told everyone to shut up.

Walking into the woods, not 20 feet away was one of the solders. He held a knife, undoubtedly he had been the one to slash our tires.

We sprinted after him, he looked over his shoulder as we saw him coming. He smirked and darted further into the woods. Y/N was at the front of our group

Damn she's fast, I thought to myself

The rest of us followed into the woods after her. We stopped just inside of the trees, realizing we lost the man.

"Fucking hell," Soap punched a tree. He shook his hand out wildly, injuring it on the hard trunk.

Gaz squatted on the ground, his head in his hands. We weren't used to getting embarrased by a ragtag gang in military uniform.

"Fuck it, I'll radio for a pickup, lets just get out of here." Price said.

We were all reluctant to agree, wanting to teach these fuckers a lesson.

Everyone turned around to leave, except for Y/N who looked into the distance.

"C'mon hun lets go," Price sounded defeated.

"But we can't just let them get away," she didn't even turn toward the group

"Kid-"

Price didn't finish his sentence, Y/N was walking further into the woods, saying some cheesy shit about not giving up.

I heard a twig snap, but It wasn't from around her. Everyone else heard it too and looked around. Suddenly, The man with the knife lept out from behind a tree and tackled Y/N.

I had the sudden instinct to make that man feel pain.

Not just to take him out, but to make him suffer.

I don't know why exactly I felt this way, but I dismissed it as being protective of a teammate.

I pushed past everyone else and ran ahead. The man was on top of Y/N, his knife next to her throat, lightly dragging across her skin. He was teasing her.

She cried out for him to get off of her. I saw red.

When I was close enough I dove to tackle him, he saw this and rolled in the opposite direction, Y/N jumped up from the ground just as he got up and ran back for her. I pointed my gun at him and pulled the trigger

Click

fuck

It was empty

The man laughed, he didn't see Y/N draw her knife and stab him through his back.

He fell to his knees, but not before grabbing her by her shoulders and taking her down with him. He ripped the knife out of his chest, and pointed it towards Y/N. She attempted to wiggle out of his grasp but she was trapped under his body weight.

The man was growing weaker, he knew he was. Instead of toying with her, He cut to the chase and brought his knife down.

I was knocked out of my trance at the sight, Time moved in slow motion. I kicked the man away before he could stab Y/N. His knife moved with his body and dragged across her arm, she yelped. I froze.

by this time everyone was gathered around. The Captain had stood Y/N up, she was assuring him that she was ok and that the knife had just barely opened her skin. The man was groaning in his final moments. I watched him cough and sputter, my white hot rage had cooled off at the sight of him writhing in the dirt. Alejandro was taking bandages out of his bag and wrapping them around Y/N's arm.

Soap radioed for a rescue team. The sun was beginning to set, we were supposed to return hours ago. I sighed and brought up the rear as we exited the woods. Plagued by the loss of today.

Y/N was lucky, I realized. Lucky that the man had decided to toy with her instead of instantly going for the kill. She was no match for his strength, he wasn't even particularly strong. Tomorrow, I will train her twice as hard.

I will ensure that she doesn't meet the same fate as the last men I was left in charge of.

[undressmewithyoureyes]

Let There Be Light - Thirty Three

**Ghost’s POV**

               “She’s Pregnant”

               The words lingered in the air like a virus ready to attach itself to someone. The air was thick, and it was getting harder for me to breathe – which had never been a problem for me before, especially with my mask; but this, this news knocked all the air out of my lungs.

               My eyes burned a hole in the face of the nurse as everyone else’s eyes glared at me. “How far along?” Laswell’s voice broke my glare as I fluttered my eyes trying to compose myself.

               “I’m not sure. She would need an ultrasound, but it popped positive very quickly,” she paused to think, “So I would say, maybe a few weeks. Does anyone need to notify the father?”

               The nurse looked around the room and then her eyes stared at me. “I think he is already notified dear,” Price said. The tension in the room not lessening up.

               “…Oh. Congratulations, sir.” I wasn’t sure if the nurse was being hesitant from the way I found out, the look in my eyes or my uncontrollable shaking. She turned on heel and exited out of the room faster than what she came in.

               The nurse shut the door quietly, but damn if it didn’t feel like a knife was stabbed into my heart when the lock clicked in place. I stared down at the floor with all kinds of emotions running through me. I wasn’t ready to become a father and the word alone scared the living shit out of me.

               “Simon,” Price said as he could see my eyes blanking out. I could hear his footsteps walking closer to me, but my eyes were glued to the floor. It wasn’t until his hand grabbed my shoulder that I was able to remove my eyes from that spot. “Son.” One word. One word that made me shoot up from my seat and hug this man so tightly.

               Price himself was a bit shocked at my sudden action, but quickly wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tightly. My shoulders began to shake as tears spilled from my eyes. I hate it. I hated showing myself like this, but it was like I couldn’t stop it. I had bottled my feelings for so long, the cap had just busted, and the bottle needed to be relieved.

               I felt another hand on my back as my body began to tremble – and soon another. The people who I protected the most but also pushed away, was here in my biggest time of need. This is family, but I was missing the biggest piece. Harley and now our unborn child.

               I pulled away from Price and I felt the hands on my back disappear. The black around my eyes was now running into my mask. “Don’t give up Simon. She needs you,” Price told me as he grabbed the side of my upper arms.

               I nodded my head at his words, “I’m not. I’m going to kill every last one of those bloody fuckers.”

               “Now there’s the Simon I know,” Prices voice deep and hearty. “Lets all try to get some rest and if anyone hears anything, let Laswell or myself know immediately.” We all nodded in agreeance and the room slowly emptied out. I sat back down in my chair, not ready to even face the door to our bedroom. I know I needed the rest, but I couldn’t bring myself to smell her, see her clothes or even sleep knowing that she is out there being tortured or sold to some greedy old bastard.

               The more I thought about what was being done to her, the more my blood boiled. I hated it. A part of me didn’t know if I would feel better knowing she was alive and being tortured or if she was dead and I wouldn’t be able to see her again – but at least she wouldn’t have to suffer.

               I sit there in the briefing room for several hours before I get up and attempt to walk towards our bedroom. With each step, my knees were getting weaker – but the weight on my shoulder was becoming heavier. To touch the doorknob, it was like a jolt of electricity was going through me. This, this right here was pure torture.

               When I opened the door, Johnny was asleep on her side of the bed – curled up with one of her shirts she had been wearing within the last few days. I know he was struggling to keep it together, but shit, someone had to. I felt disappointment in myself for losing my control, but I couldn’t help it. At least it wasn’t both of us.

               I walk past him and head towards the closet, the last place I felt her arms around me. Stepping into the square room was as if the oxygen in my lungs was being sucked out. It was a vortex, but I needed to be here. I needed to be where she liked to be, thinking maybe that would help give me some sort of clue to where she may be – but it just infuriated me even more.

               I sat down against the wall in the closet and snagged one of her shirts off the hanger that dangled beside me. It smelled just like her. How could someone be so vile and want to harm her? But one thing I do know, she was a fighter – and a damn good one at that.

               The smell of her shirt made me want to cherish the good times we had even longer. I started to hate myself for not spending more time with her. Staring into her green eyes as she adored mine. How her nose scrunched when she laughed really hard and how warm she made my cold heart feel by just a simple touch. I knew that I had done nothing wrong, and I knew we spent majority of our time together, but it was a moment like this where I wish it could have been even more.

               I replayed every moment I could remember in my mind over and over. Her voice. Her laugh and every little detail about her until my eyes grew heavy and I prayed to anyone that would listen, to please let me dream of her.

-------------

               Johnny woke me up. He was cautious, not knowing the state that I would be in. I fluttered my eyes and smiled thinking it was Harley, but then reality set back in immediately. The pit in my stomach turned and my whole body felt numb.

               “Price wants to see us in the briefing room. Says he may have got a lead.” I could tell he was holding back tears and trying to stay strong. I admired him for it.

               I get to my feet and head to the briefing room as quickly as I possibly could. I felt like my legs were about to give out from underneath me from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. ‘Please be good news. Please be good news’ I kept repeating over and over in my head.

               I slam the door open as my chest heaved up and down. I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to know the news and if there was a location, I needed it immediately.

               “Laswell has done some digging around and found there is going to be an auction tomorrow night in Las Almas,” Price started off with.

               “But?” I question out through gritted teeth.

               Price clears his throat, “But, it’s a private event.”

               “Okay?” I respond annoyed.

               Price sighs, “A formal private event. No masks.”

               I stiffen from his words. I’ve never gone into any mission without my mask for the sake of my identity and for childhood reasons, but would I really let my fears get in the way of rescuing her?

               “I’ll go in,” I hear Gaz say as he gives me a reassuring look. “I promise Lieutenant, I’ll get her back.”

               “No Gaz, I’m going in,” I say back a bit cold. It came out harsher than I had intended. “I’ll take my fucking mask off. If that’s what it takes to get her back safely, I’ll do it.”

               Price clicked is tongue and raised his eyebrows, “That may work,” he says as he walks closer to me. “No one has ever seen your face. We risk Harley’s life and our own by taking a chance someone recognizing our faces.”

               The black heart in my chest started to beat rapidly. The thought of me facing people without my mask was nauseating, even if it was for Harley – but I wasn’t going to let that stop me.

               “So, what are the details?” I ask.

               “Black tie event,” Laswell answers walking into the room. “Sleek and rich. What we need from everyone is to be on their best eyes. This place is going to be heavily guarded,” she pauses taking in a breath. “If one of the guards doesn’t respond within a few seconds, they lock the place down.”

               “Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap says next to me.

               “Yeah. So we need to come up with a plan. A damn good one.” Laswell was determined and full of hope. One thing I admired but also hated about her. How can you have hope when everything around you dies or turns to shit?

               “What usually happens in these places?” Gaz asks.

               Before Price or Laswell could answer, Alejandro chimes in, “Sinister things amigo. Girls of all ages. Some as little as a child, others teenagers and young adults auctioned off to a life of misery,” he says getting up from his chair to face all of us. “The girls are given a dose of ‘Dust’ based off their weight to make them easier to handle. They are sold to the highest bidder and taken to wherever their new home is,” he pauses, “…never to be seen again.”

               Gaz jerked his head back in shock, “They…kill them? So, its for sport?”

               “Si. Sick bastards they are. They use their bodies for whatever they want them for – pleasure, pain, you name it – and when they are done, they are no longer use to them.”

               “How do you know all this?” I ask him out of curiosity.

               Alejandro’s eyes met mine and I stared back as I watch his eyes gloss over, “Because my sister was one of them.” I hated it. I hated all of it. A part of me felt guilty to even have him on this because I’m sure this brought back a lot of memories, but the selfish side of me knew that he would fight even harder to get Harley back. “I promise you Hermano,” he says to me as tears fall from his eyes and down his face, “We will get her back.”

               I knew it was a promise, but the promise wasn’t guaranteed alive. I nodded my head at him signaling a silent ‘Thank you’. Laswell broke the heart felt moment to remind us why we are all here in this moment – a game plan, “Any ideas?” I knew she was just as anxious as we all were – which was shocking considering how her and Harley got along the first few times they met.

               “I say I go in and try to look for her. Everyone else, be my eyes on the outside,” I petition.

               Price nodded his head, “Laswell can take over the cameras and over lay them. Alejandro, do you have any men that you don’t think would get recognized?”

               “What do you have in mind amigo?” Alejandro asked.

               “Get another set of eyes on the inside,” Price looks over to me, “I need you on the inside Simon, but how much are we risking by camouflaging someone as a guard?”

               Alejandro crossed his arms over his chest and chuckled to himself, “I like your spirit Captain, but all of those guards are either Russian or German.”

               Laswell sits down in her chair and pulls her laptop from her bag. She opens it and in a few minutes, she shoots her head over at the Captain, “Price.”

               She turns the laptop towards him, and his eyes scan over whatever was on the screen, “We have just the guy that fits the criteria,” she says with a smile on her face.

               Price looks from the laptop screen to meet Laswell’s eyes as a grin mirrors on his face, “Nik.”

[ladyluscinia]

hi i had something i was confused about and i was wondering if you could help! so when izzy shoots himself in the head, does he do it with the intention of killing himself except he misses? or does he purposely trick ed? genuinely i couldn’t figure out what they were trying to imply there, and you are a literal god at meta analysis, so i thought i’d ask :)

Anon that is a great question and I have thoughts.

Short answer: I have watched that scene several times now and I'm still not 100% on what's going down there!

Now for the long answer... 🤔

I am confident that Izzy puts the gun to his head with intention. He's not trying to trick Edward - not in the least because I don't think he's mentally there enough to think ahead. Izzy just got abruptly woken up post-amputation for one of the most emotionally fraught conversations of his life. The guy is probably delirious from bloodloss, pain, and hopefully something he was given for the pain (though since Frenchie's first aid kit didn't make it down... maybe not 😬).

I think he's there enough to put together that his last ditch attempt to pull Edward out of all this failed. To feel the frankly overwhelming emotional snarl of anger / distress / love that gets him to point the gun at Edward and then send him away. He's laying in that bed realizing horribly that fucked doesn't begin to cover it and Edward is going to spiral further and further until he dies, but I doubt he feels like he can DO anything about it - even if he wasn't freshly down a leg.

That's why he lifts the gun. That's why Edward isn't surprised to hear it fire.

But why doesn't it hit?

So I have two equally plausible theories. I'm figuring they are going to have to circle back to two of their main three characters attempting suicide on screen, so Izzy will probably say something in the future that narrows it down. (For now, I personally prefer the second one.)

So, Theory #1 is that Izzy survived purely on accident. Or by fate. You can see his hand drop and the gun slip upward just before he pulls the trigger. As previously established, my guy is going through it mentally and physically. It is fully within the realm of possibility that he didn't have the strength to keep his hand steady and it saved his life while knocking him out instead. Then later he wakes up and (probably still somewhat delirious) decides that apparently life isn't done with him yet and he needs to go put a stop to whatever murder-suicide Edward is trying to enact.

Theory #2 is that - at the last second - Izzy changed his mind.

Thematically this is interesting. There's a post going around about how even in the darkest depths Edward still has a spark of himself that wants to live, and parallels this with Stede getting confronted "Do you want to live?!?" in S1. I can't endorse this post because the author is an Izzy hater who sidebars in the middle to go "btw this is all Izzy's fault, the evil bastard" but it's an interesting parallel. Especially if you take a sympathetic read of Izzy also going to pull the trigger into account.

Maybe Edward and Izzy (and Stede) want to live just a little more than they want to die, even when the situation seems unbearable. Maybe Edward's drive manifests in giving the crew chance after chance to stop him when they could never stop a bullet in the middle of the night, and in trying to untie the ropes even before he hears Stede waiting for him, and Izzy's...?

Well, maybe Izzy's drive manifests in jerking the gun down just before it fires.