#he's still just as considered with his comrads and he still cares about doing the right thing just as much

[galaxy-fleur]

Warm comfort after a job well done

Some soft Aruna/Chris because they've been brewing on my mind lately. Nothing like a huge, burly man being a massive little spoon at heart.

Aruna info-post!

Additional one-shot bellow <3

Chris lets out a long, weary sigh as his legs drag him up a route he now knows by heart, smooth, automatic doors sliding open with quiet hum to let him through. His haggard appearance doesn't fit among the squeaky clean lab environment, making him stick out like a sore thumb. He never really did look appropriate in here, though. Even on a good day. He's far too big, too rough around the edges for this pristinely tidy place. And yet, against all glaring contradictions, this was also a place to call home.

It wasn't a surprise to find Aruna right where she usually is, her back turned to him, and her hands far too busy with whatever overcomplicated project that was on her plate this time around. In their own right, they were two workaholics through and through, both living their jobs rather than just going through the motions.

Perhaps that explains how they flowed together so well.

As soon as she looked over her shoulder at her visitor, a broad smile spread across her face. He's been out on an assignment for almost a full week now, and even though that was a tried and true routine for them at this point, it always filled his chest with pure relief whenever he came back to see her safe and sound in his time away. Or, well, mostly safe and sound. While Aruna wasn't deployed out in the field nearly as frequently since her primary responsibilities were mostly limited to the lab, that didn't mean she wouldn't get herself into all kinds of bizarre incidents. Whether it was her natural carelessness or her scientific inclination, he sure didn't like just how frequently she'd get another strangely shaped bruise or a charred hair here and there.

In any case, he was far too tired out of his mind to make any remarks on her being up late for work again. He'd be a major hypocrite if he did. Truth is, he was glad she was still on the job. That meant he could come up here and see her like this.

"-You're back! I figure the mission was a success?"

He virtually collapses into the nearest lab chair with a muffled grunt after dragging his body there. Fatigue is evident in his weary eyes, his shoulders slouching as he rests his hands on his knees. Despite his efforts to project a strong exterior, his typically stern and intense gaze looks even heavier and darker due to sheer tiredness pulling him down. In here, he wasn't a tough leader, carrying the responsibility to be everyone's strength, no matter how dire the situation is. In here, he was just Chris. And Chris was so, so tired.

"...Yeah. We got the job done," he replies with a sigh, his gruff and deep voice sounding rougher and hoarser than usual. He knows he comes off as a little curt, but that's mostly because he doesn't want to discuss the job at the moment. The job is all he thought about for days on end. He had to. He needs to rest his thoughts.

Aruna's smile softens into a more understanding one as she briefly scans his body from head to toe to determine what injuries she could already pinpoint without giving it a closer look. Chris was always plagued by injuries. A few new cuts and some sporadic burn are a familiar staple, and that's on a good day. Neither of them would make a big fuss about it. But that doesn't mean they didn't give a damn, either. There was simply no point in dwelling on something that is utterly inevitable in this line of work. Thankfully, aside from utter exhaustion and a pulling ache in his bruised shoulder, there wasn't anything major to worry about this time around. He's here in the first place in part because of that.

She sets her equipment aside, swiftly removing her gloves, and approaching him in a few quick strides. One of her hands rests on his shoulder, her voice soft as she tilts her head down at him: "...You need rest. Not to be rude, but... you look like hell. Did you even go to medical for a checkup before coming here, hm?"

She knows him too well.

He lets out a trembling breath, his tired eyelids fluttering shut, his body starting to relax at her presence. Chris leans against her touch slightly, responding to her, admittedly, very valid question with a slight, stubborn huff.

"I told the rest of the team to go to medical and get examined while I went straight here. I’ll go to medical later," he mutters out with a slight dismissive wave of his hand that felt as though it took half of his remaining energy to even lift his arm up.

Aruna just sighs in clear disapproval, giving him a light, playful nudge that makes him sway in his current seat in spite of all the muscle supposed to keep him steady. Although she's usually all for consideration and understanding - sometimes a bit too much for his liking - she is also well aware that he's not all that good at taking care of himself properly. Everyone needs rest, and she, unfortunately, knew better than to trust him solely on his word.

"Alright, fine, you can rest here. But you're going to medical later, even if I have to drag your hunky butt up there myself," she hums, beginning to comb through his untidy hair, brushing off some dirt and gunpowder that had become tangled in the short locks. Probably not the most appropriate thing to do in a laboratory of all places, but they could allow themselves to break the rules sometimes. They did that far too many times to count at this point, after all.

As he leans into Aruna's hand, silently savoring the sensation of her touch, he can't help but chuckle. She may grumble, but she's still as soft and caring as ever.

"Hunky, huh?" Chris raises an eyebrow at her, a small but playful smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he eyes his fiancé. She rolls her eyes at that, grinning down at him knowingly. Slowly, he raises his better arm and wraps it around her middle, bringing her closer to him and into his lap. Aruna just follows his lead and settles against him without protesting or even teasing him on it as she usually would. He doesn't waste much time to bury his nose against her chest, nuzzling his face against her warm skin, and wrapping a muscular arm around her back to keep her close.

Even though he's now indoors, the cold he's had to endure these past several days still bites at his cheeks, and her body heat feels like a divine escape from it. With a tired and heavy exhale, he slumps against her, resting his body on hers, even as he keeps her in his lap. At this point, it almost feels like he's using her as a personal teddy bear because of the way he eases up against her smaller frame.

Her nails lightly stroke his scalp as her hand returns up to continue combing through his hair mindlessly.

"Hunky, handsome, ridiculously stubborn... Hey, that last one seems to be true even now. I'm kind of scared what you're gonna be like when you're sixty," she adds with a playful smile, her other hand resting upon his shoulder, her thumb rubbing small soothing circles into the fabric of his turtleneck. "I'm gonna be dealing with one stubborn old man."

A warm feeling of affection fills his chest as he grins at that. God, he missed her.

"Ah, but you still fell for me anyway," Chris responds with a tired but teasing tone that comes out sounding muffled against her chest, his warm breath rolling over her skin. His muscles gradually relax as he rests against her in silence for a few peaceful minutes, before letting out a small, tired groan. There is a clear difference between her soft and mostly clear skin, which is usually untouched by direct combat or violence, and his hard and calloused body, which has seen far too much action over the years. He sighs: "...I just want to enjoy your company a little longer. The others got it a lot worse than me. Hell one of ‘em got a bullet go straight through his shoulder so he definitely needs that care way more than I do."

Aruna's smile softens a bit as she continues to silently caress his head. Despite him probably being way too heavy on her like this, she doesn't protest or complain to him one bit, taking all of his - admittedly, rather hefty - weight like a true champ. If anything, it's a clear sign of his tiredness, as he is typically very protective and careful about not being too heavy on her.

"...You should rest," she murmurs quietly. "You really need it."

He leans into her touch with a low hum. Almost like a touchstarved tomcat would, practically melting at her simple caresses.

"I just... need you right now. I need you more than sleep… can I be selfish, just this once?" Chris mumbles out faintly, his voice coming out sounding gruff and vulnerable. He is more than aware that it is far from ideal to be covered in sweat, dirt, grime, and the faint remnants of dried blood, especially when he is holding on to his fiancée like this. He is also well aware that he should probably take a shower and go up to the medical to get examined out properly. But even though he's a filthy, unkempt mess, he's far too exhausted, and all he really wants right now is to just be near her, even if it's only for a minute or two. "…I promise I’ll shower after I get some rest, I just… I need to hold you first."

Aruna leans down and kisses the top of his head.

"You can be selfish as much as you want right now," she assured softly, her hand still stroking his hair. "Just rest. I'm not going anywhere."

He nearly melts into Aruna right then and there. He exhales again, his tense muscles unwinding, further relaxing against her. The adrenaline from the mission is gradually fading from his system now that he's at home and in his fiancé's company. He wraps his arms around her waist and buries his face in her chest again, his eyes fluttering closed and his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper.

"…I’m so damn tired." He lets out another trembling sigh, soothed by her presence and the sensation of her soft hands caressing him and petting his hair. The exhaustion seeps into his bones fully, both a relief and a curse in one. "Missed you."

She lets out a quiet 'mhm' in acknowledgement, silently running her fingers through the dried out locks. He guesses his hair is probably far from the softest variety right now. But Aruna didn't mind. She never did. She was always there for him whenever he returned, through the good and the bad, willing to provide any consolation and assistance she could. After all, she understood first hand the cost he had to bear to protect the rest of the world from the bloodshed of bioterrorism. She has never once asked him to stop, even though she was probably just as worried about his safety while he was away as he was about hers. Neither did he.

This was their life, their fight, their purpose. Regardless of how hard and exhausting it was at times, neither of them could see themselves in any other place.

"How about this, big guy… I’ll let you nap here for a bit, but you will be getting your butt up to medical after you wake up. I want you to be properly checked out and treated. And you'll change out of your gear. I’m sure as hell not letting you into our bed smelling like a war zone. You stink," the scientist says sternly, but the hint of a smile can still be heard in her soft tone.

As she relaxes against him, he sneaks in a small and weary smile onto his face. Despite his reluctance to leave her arms, he does admit that she is very much right. He is not willing to argue over something so silly.

"I guess you win. Again." All his senses are now completely relaxed as he holds her against his body, breathing in the scent of her perfume lingering on her skin. Lemon grass and geranium. He nuzzles his nose against her collarbone. "-You better shower with me after all of this is said and done then."

He hears her laugh at his muttered demand, making his smile widen against her.

"Uh-huh, alright, you got yourself a deal, Redfield. Shower together it is," she agrees, her words laced with light playfulness that was like a balm to his battered body. As she lowers herself down, she swiftly pecks his forehead. "Now rest, you big, stubborn idiot."

Another shiver of delight runs down his spine at the simple affection she was spoiling him with. Despite the tiredness and exhaustion he's feeling, the thought of having her warm body pressed against his own in the shower later makes him almost excited about the idea. That's certainly one thing to look forward to, at least.

"I’m your stubborn idiot." With a tired sigh of relief, he presses his face into the soft skin of her neck, practically burying it there, the stubble on his jawline scratching at her slightly, to which she giggles lightly. She can make him completely pliant and docile in her arms, even though he is known for being intense and gruff on the appearance. He whispers against her skin, his voice weary and gravelly: "I’m all yours."

He may have a tendency to appear tough and guarded, but in quiet moments like these, when his body is pliant and docile in her embrace, it became openly clear just how tired and weary he really was under his front of responsibility and leadership.

"You're mine alright," she replies, her fingers slowly massaging the back of his neck, slowly tracing small, soothing circles on his skin. "That means I get to protect you, too. Now rest. You're safe here."

That's all the words he needed to hear.

[makelemonade]

THE FATUI’S CUMSLUT

all the male harbingers except Pulcinella

Really it all starts out simple; you were just a simple secretary for the Harbingers who worked directly under Pantalone.

So naturally it starts because of him.

He likes talking to you- not like, actually, loves. You’re the only person who’s actually willing to listen to his constant rambles about his theories of currency and he doesn’t know if it’s out of fear or because you’re actually willing but he still finds comfort in it.

It’s so comforting that honestly, it kinda turns him on…like no one has ever actually sat with him and listened to him with such focus that he’s lining over you, both lovingly and sickingly.

How the stress relief starts…he’s bold.

by bold, meaning you quite literally caught him jerking off to the thought of you as you walked into bring him a few papers to sigh, and he was bold enough to ask you for your help; and of course you oblige!

okay now actually onto the actual smut part;

Pantalone, who is probably the second sweetest out of all of them when he fucks you. As teasing as he is, he makes sure to pleasure you.

Pantalone, who just laughs when you say you want to pleasure him instead, and he’ll tell you that your pleasure is enough to get him off for days.

Pantalone, who sometimes just can’t handle all the stress the others push on him and he’ll come find you, bending you over any near substance and prioritizing his pleasure just for a bit.

Pantalone, who can also just push you against the wall of the castle halls, not caring if anyone sees you. He knows the risk turns you on, and he loves it.

Pantalone, who fucks into you so passionately yet roughly; so obsessed with how your tits bounce he just has to grope them as he fucks you. He might even fuck them too, and let you suck the tip of his cock.

Pantalone, who passes this information onto his good partner Dottore, who decides he has to really test out the theory that you’re as good as Pantalone says you are.

Dottore, who decides he’ll need you for certain experiments. You’re hesitant, but he promised he’d never do anything to hurt his loyal assistant.

Dottore, whose experiments are really just seeing how many times you can cum on a drug, a toy, his hand or his dick.

Dottore, who is WAY more teasing than Pantalone and wants to pleasure you, but makes sure his pleasure is always given no matter what.

Dottore, who loves to try any new kink or idea with you. Whether it be bondage, role playing kink- anything! you’re the only one he will do it with

Dottore, who is just so rough on your poor cunt :( who’ll rub your clit as he fucks into you so harshly, the slaps echoing through his lab.

Dottore, who WILL fuck you in front of the segments or have multiple of them fuck you while he watches

Dottore, who then passes this onto his comrade, Capitano.

Capitano, who is the sweetest out of all of them.

Capitano, who yes, does need you for his stress relief but he doesn’t wanna hurt you. Instead, he’ll go at your own pace- he knows his cock is too big for you and is patient to get you ready.

Capitano, who praises the most out of them all. It’s a shock because he’s typically quiet, but a “good girl” will make you cum on the spot.

Capitano, who will only go rough on you once you beg him too, and he will quite literally fuck you like a monster.

Capitano, who is just so big even his fingers make you go crazy. He’ll wipe your tears as you complain about how big it is and he’ll try his best to soothe you.

Capitano, when rough, goes absolutely drunk on your pussy and fucks his cum into it for hours even if you’re too overstimulated.

Capitano, who’s coat is so big that when the others aren’t using you, he’ll have you sit on his lap during meetings and wrap his coat around you- hiding how you’re warming his cock, or sometimes he might not even use the coat.

Capitano, who passes this information onto his good friend, Pierro.

Pierro, who could be the sweetest if we considered this in terms of how gentle they were when they fuck you.

Pierro, who is actually practically monsterfucking you whenever he chooses to use you.

Pierro, who is sweet because he doesn’t like to use you a lot- he knows how much the others do and how much it makes you sore so instead he’s the king of aftercare, making sure you come to him after them if they don’t take care of you so that he can.

Pierro, who sometimes just can’t help it because he’s too stressed out, and has to bend you over his desk and fuck you for hours.

Pierro, who does care about your pleasure just a bit, but you are his stress relief aren’t you? He’ll remind you as he cums for the nth time in you, you a babbling a mess.

Pierro, who isn’t really as kinky or exhibiting as the others and likes to fuck you in the comfort of his office. However, he may steal Capitano’s idea and slowly and subtly bounce you on his cock while you’re under his coat, hiding from the others.

Pierro, who’s dick is just too big that the moment he even lets the tip in you’re already going absolutely drunk on his cock.

Pierro, who notices Childe’s recent sickness caused by his delusion, and suggests a reason for him to finally relax in certain ways; you.

Childe, who is the last on the list of being the sweetest.

Childe, who sure, he’ll praise you when you do so good and degrade you just how you like- will use you the most out of all the men

Childe, who is just soooo tired and stressed and he needs your pussy to suck his cock in at least once every hour.

Childe, who will have you cockwarm him as he does his work and spanks your thigh when you try to get some relief and tells you to be patient and that he’ll tend to you once he’s done.

Childe, who does care about your pleasure and makes sure to make you cum first, but the real reason is because he wants you overstimulated so you can cry and beg for him to stop- it turns him on because you know you don’t want him to.

Childe, who will fuck you anywhere and everywhere. The lounge rooms? Every couch has been used. The kitchen? You’ve been bent over every counter? The halls? He’ll hold you up and fuck into you.

Childe, who does not care if someone sees or hears you two and will purposely make you scream so the subordinates outside his office can hear and remind them that they can’t have someone as gorgeous as you.

Childe, who even if it seems like he sees you as his cock sleeve, does care about you and makes sure you get good aftercare and will massage you- him and Pierro are great minds alike.

Childe, who is the one to suggest to all of them to use you when they’re all in the castle.

You, who by the end of the day, is a babbling mess; you’re covered in their cum while some of it dropped out of all your holes. There were honestly hundreds of bite and hickey marks littered over you- your neck, thighs, tits, ass, hips. It’s insane. and all they can think about is how they can’t wait to continue using your slutty pussy.

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[gremlingottoosilly]

Monster!König whose first course of action after the monster uprising was to find his missing bunny wife!Reader who has no idea he even considered them married in the first place. König who is clueless when it comes to societal norms or concepts and learns about marriage through picking up conversations from scientists back when he was locked up. (Still doesn’t have the greatest grasp on it even after getting his hands on human books and media) Reader is just happy to be free from being used as a breeding machine and had no idea her cell?mate thought their relationship ran that deep and wants to get legally married now. :/

Some of the scientists laughed, calling you Konig's little bunny wife. A packmate, someone to get his stress dumped in so their captive monster could be less of a killing machine and more of someone who can actually be controlled and sated. Throw him a bitch with a leaky hole and whiny voice, and he'd be satisfied until the end of time. Konig doesn't like the sound of laughter that comes from the scientists, but he likes the word "wife" forced on you. Wife. Pretty, cute, adorable, small, and fragile thing that needs him to survive - it's basic biology. Needy bunnies like you can't survive in a world filled with humans and certainly can't do it in the new reality, where the strongest are getting all the cards. When Konig eventually gets out, he reads - to his surprise, really, and to the surprise of all of his comrades who would much rather burn everything the old rulers of their world have left. But Konig reads - romance novels, human courting rituals, the true meaning of the word wife and the word husband. He thinks of ways he can put together a wedding worthy of his precious little bunny - when he would finally get her with him, of course. He finds you, of course - it's not that hard to find a bunny in this shrunken world when he has almost all of the power he could have. A colonel in the monster forces, somewhat of a hero waiting for his mate to arrive - you're given to him as a gift from his comrades, a pack of soldiers eager to please their commander. Yes, the little bunny was crying and squirming in his grasp when she was delivered, but it's hardly his fault, is it? Konig just isn't quite sure on how to go about this whole marriage thing and what to do when your pretty wifey is desperately trying to get out of his grasp. He squeezes your throat a bit until you stop trashing in his hold and then spends the rest of the evening exploring your precious needy holes with his tentacles and his hands. God, he missed the feeling of your pussy clenching on his cock, desperate for him to release his seed. You're a bad little thing for denying him, but it's okay, he can work with that. He doesn't care if you're dumb or ungrateful - he will just press further, push his cock as deep into you as possible, squeezing your soft breasts until he swears the milk will come. He will have to breed you for this, of course - as thoroughly as possible until you can't help but cry and moan in his hold. Scientists never allowed him to actually dump his eggs in you, always afraid that he would get too possessive and territorial protecting his clutch and the pregnant mate - but oh, no one is there to stop him now. You would forget all about resisting in a bit - it would be much easier to push you around once you're getting the role of his pretty little wife, just like you were intended to.

[lilianalovespink]

Your lungs burn.

Your skin does too.

Sweat soaked clothes cling to your skin, cotton made heavy by the sheer amount of it that you've let off in the last hour of training.

But most importantly, there's a lump in your throat that aches worse than any cough ever could've- feeling like that time you had tonsillitis as a child.

"'ny more wisdom or are you done, private?"

If you cry now, he'll be kind; understanding. He always is, but that's the problem.

"I'm done captain."

~

'Unable to follow orders without questions, unable to integrate into the team.'

Sincerely and with your entire heart, you wish only the worst upon John Price. You could follow orders, you could work with them- if they let you.

A discomfort of needle like nature pulls through your muscles at that thought, considering that you had in fact voiced it and that the consequence had been the training you usually do over the course of three hours having to get done within an hour, no breaks, no warmups.

The worst part, you thought as you stepped out of the showers, is that in his view, he didn't hate you but rather...think you incompetent; a cocky amateur with too much of their chest puffed out.

You, a little child, a toddler acting rebellious or throwing a tantrum, and him, the sensible adult, strict but 'caring'.

"Shh, I know. This is too much for you. I know."

Leave it to him to make comfort a painful act; one for you to be belittled during, made out to be just another stupid teen in over their head.

Yes, you were younger than your commander, your captain, but no younger than your lieutenant or seargant.

Just not at their rank.

Your transfer to the 141 was abrupt, but by no means unwelcome. You were the best in your recruitment class, you were capable but as price, at the time you thought jokingly, put it, you weren't 'broken in'.

And boy did he have every intention of breaking you.

Training was tough, but doable except-

"You were top of your class? Again."

"There's a reason you're still a private."

"If you can't manage, leave."

And then, whenever you snap at him, show teeth at the hand that constantly strikes you, he's a saint. He's really just putting you what everyone else is going through, why are you this upset? Clearly because you're immature.

If you can hold back your urge to bite bite bite- this man, if you try to ask him stuff it's really a coin flip of what version of Captain John Price you'll get.

"You can't handle it? That's okay. It's okay, hey- no crying. Come here...yeah, that's a good girl."

Or, in case you didn't crawl between his legs like a scared puppy-

"I'm only being hard on you because I thought you wanted to be better. Was I wrong about that? Or do you want to be something other than a private one day?"

The worst part is that, the team seems to see you as a puppy as well- with you literally getting that as a monicker.

Lt. Riley wasn't as cold and mysterious as you expected when you first saw the mask, but he certainly wasn't hellbent on letting you be his buddy, let alone his comrade. He never helped you out unless you asked, but, should you make that mistake, to ask for help, he'll nod and simply guide you aside like you're a sheep and he's your shepherd. Like teaching you wasn't literally his job.

Sgt. MacTavish as well as Sgt. Garrick had initially been warm and inviting, had made you feel like this was your team- until you noticed how they'd leave you out whenever they could. Sure, neither of them were rude but- they weren't proper teammates either.

And then, of course, Captain Price.

What should you say about this man? How horrible he is? Would that do what he's put you through any justice?

As if this alienation from the people you literally had to trust with your life wasn't bad enough, the way they seemed to pity you was worse. Like you were a small child who dropped your candy.

It hurt, badly.

So when Commander Philipp Graves joined for a mission in Los Alamos and was the only one who treated you like you were on one level?

Yeah, you took the bait.

[scarlettgauthor]

A plea

Readers! Billionaire-haters! Comrades! I have a request for you, from the bottom of my self-published indie author heart:

Please buy your books from places other than Amazon.

I am not saying do not buy books. I am definitely not saying pirate books (authors need to be paid in order to keep writing). I am just asking you to shift your purchasing to a non-Amazon platform. Any of the non-Amazon platforms.

We all know that Bezos is using his bajillions of dollars to make the world an actively worse place. We know he's sucking up to Trump because all billionaires are the same, and all they care about is their money. We know he's at least partially to blame for this second Trump presidency. I think the world would be a much better place if Amazon didn't exist.

I hate Amazon and Bezos as much as it's possible to do, but I literally can't survive as a self-published author without selling on Amazon. I earned $1094.26 in royalties (through Draft2Digital) in January, and $863.46 of that was from Amazon sales. Even with the criminally low royalties I get from Audible because I choose to sell elsewhere instead of locking myself into their monopoly, I get between $200-300 a month in royalties from them as opposed to $75-150 a month from Author's Republic, which publishes my audiobooks to everywhere else on the internet.

I hate depending on Amazon, but I can't quit Amazon unless readers do.

My plea to readers is this: Get off Amazon. Get off Kindle. See if you can buy books directly from the independent authors you like (like through my shop on my website!). If you depend on Kindle Unlimited or Audible subscriptions to keep up with your voracious reading habits, try your local library instead. You can get so many books and audiobooks through Libby!

If I was getting 80% of my sales through avenues other than Amazon, it would be easy to take the financial hit and drop them. Currently it's the other way around, and unfortunately I do still need money to live.

I know for many people doing a complete Amazon boycott is not possible. I still occasionally use Amazon for stuff like printer toner, or camp chairs for a concert on short notice, or other housewares I would be happy to buy in an actual store except that in-person shopping has been so degraded by Amazon that's no longer an option. I'm not perfect, and I'm operating within a system that is stacked against me.

But books aren't any of those things. They're not two-day free delivery on groceries and pantry staples for a disabled person who can't safely leave the house. They're not a houseware that you'd have to drive a full hour to buy in person from the one shop that still has it available. There are so, so many other options available in the world for book purchasing, even if you don't have access to a cool local bookstore.

Even if you can't get to a Barnes & Noble.

Even if you don't have a good local library.

There are OPTIONS.

(I, for one, love Bookshop.org, but just look at the Books2Read link for Red, the Wolf, and the Woods! There are 14 non-Amazon retailers, plus I sell direct! Bookshop has just launched ebook sales to support local bookstores, too!)

Please, consider changing your book shopping habits! Ask your friends to change their book shopping habits! It's a small thing, but it's a small thing that means a big improvement for authors, and for the world.

Thank you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Look, Don't Touch 1

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: Well, well, well, if it isn't another bad decision.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

The spectrum of city lights gleam through the window casting a soft glow over the lofty condo. Spacious and pristine, everything in exactly its place, even the shadows seem to assemble in orderly fashion along the pale wall. A fine contrast to your chaotic existence on the peripheral.  

You sit, staring down the treacherous drop. A single pane between you and the end. Your phone dims as it rests against the thumb grip, wires still woven from the port into the palm sized box. You can find anything on the dark web if you go deep enough. 

The alarm was easy enough to override with the device, you still feel a sliver of adrenaline. How your heart beats thunderously as you watch the screen race through columns of numbers. You expect a blaring siren, instead the door clicks and a low beep grants your entry. 

It's nothing bad. Not really. You’re tired of watching, of waiting, for what? You're not sure. It’s not as if you want him to notice you, you do your best to make sure he doesn't. Maybe one day when you're ready. Whatever that means. 

You shut the lights off once you get the photos, each room from every angle. So you have a reference to make sure everything's where it belongs when you go. Unlike you. 

You don’t belong here. Or anywhere. So you have no issue crossing those lines, because no matter where you step, you’re out of place. 

If anyone knew, they might think you've done this before. You’ve dreamed of it. Maybe, a bit too often. 

It's the online boards that make you so thorough, checking things you never even considered. Of course, those neckbeards are looking to scare some skinny blonde they don't have a chance with. You don't want to scare Steve, you just want to know him, if even from a distance. 

You always just watch. Is that so bad? You don't get in his way, you don't try anything, you just follow. 

Well, it's about time you came inside. You don't get much of a view from the outside. The reflection of the other buildings tend to make the distance further. A whole year and you don't know why you’ve waited so long. It’s not like he’ll know. 

You stand up and unplug your phone, turning on the flashlight as you point it ahead if you. You stop to admire the pictures framed and hung of him and his comrades, both old and new, dead and alive. You continue down the hall, back to the bedroom and peer around. 

You spread out on the bed. You can smell him, his sweat and the soap he uses. You know from his receipts. From skulking around behind him at the grocery stores you can’t afford to shop at.  

You close your eyes and imagine he's there with you. Watching you too. The two of you, peaceful, comfortable, like you've never been with anyone in your life. An indolent complicity. 

It’s lies. You know that’s not how it goes. If he knew about you, he’d be just as repulsed as any other guy. And you’re not the type for the sappy shit. You don’t want love, you just want a thrill. 

You put the phone down, the light glowing on the other side of your eyelids as it shines on the ceiling. You feel along your dark jeans and slide your fingers under your fly. You sigh as you feel yourself getting wet.  

You flick your clit and moan. You say his name and do it again, a steady motion as you wish he was there, hand down your pants as he fucks you with his fingers, reading a book as if he isn't rock hard over it. It must be extraordinary to have someone else touching you. It’s getting boring, just you. 

You cum quickly, surprised as usually you need your toys. More reliable than any man, you scoff and free your hands from the denim. 

You sit up slowly and wipe your cum on his pillow. Maybe he'll smell it, will he know what it is? Would he like it? 

You get up and stretch. You take your phone and check the time. You should go. He'll be home soon, you know he met his pal for drinks at seven. Funny, you were under the impression beer didn't affect enhanced beings. 

You go back to the living room and pack up. You plug in the cipher once more and head for the door. You re-arm the alarm and carry on down the hall. 

You stop at the elevator and wait. It opens and you suppress your surprise. Well, you’re not that shocked as his timing is always precise. Not to mention, he lives here. Steve Rogers hesitates before he gets off the elevator, blanching as he sees you.  

“Sorry,” he smiles at you. 

It’s not a real smile. It’s just his surprise. It’s courtesy. Steve fucking Rogers is high and above you. 

“It’s fine,” you say snidely as you stare at him dully. 

He only thinks to get off when his companion, Bucky Barnes, does first. You wait for them to pass you, the second man meeting your eyes as he passes. You see a spark of curiosity in his eye but it quickly dies. You’re not that interesting, especially at first glance. You rely on that. 

You step onto the elevator, nearly caught in the doors as you do. You turn to watch them walk down the hallway. They have no idea, you're just another faceless New Yorker. 

📷

It's weird, you think. Anyone else would be jealous to see the scene. They would crumple at the burning envy in their gut but you feel something much more intense. You're fucking horny. 

Your perch on the roof of the building a block from Steve's is bitter and blustery. You have the scope set up, cell phone in the holder, to align the lens. The red dot flashes to show that it's recording. 

You adjust the angle and zoom in on the screen. The set-up is simple enough once it's set up, if the app isn't a bit tedious. You take another drink from your thermos and huddle beneath your hoodie. 

You wish you could hear it. The slapping of flesh, the groans in his constricted throat, even the woman's airy breaths as she grips the back of the couch, teeth bared as Steve ruts from behind. America's golden boy getting his kicks from some bimbo he met down at the bar. Again. 

You want to be in her place. Or even just a bit closer. If it was you, it’d be a lot less predictable. He’ll finish, slap her ass, and send her off.  

You yawn as he grabs onto her shoulders, pulling her back gruffly as he rams into her hard. The aggression is what surprises. Steve Rogers is all smiles and sweet words for the cameras he knows are there, but behind closed doors, he’s brutal. The woman’s face contorts as the pain wracks her body.  

She doesn’t stop, lets him use her. Just like you would. If you even had a chance in hell, you’d lick his cum off the shield. Fuck, if he wasn’t obsessed with those barbie dolls, he might actually try something new. 

You don't hate her, don't feel an ounce of anger. She's doing you a favour, putting on a show just for you. An image you’ll never forget, that you’ll cherish on lonely nights. 

You shiver as heat nestles in your core. Your hand falls to your jeans, lingering just beneath your heavy parka. It’s too cold to do that now. You retract your arm and sigh. When you get home you’ll have to rewatch it with your favourite toy. 

Before your mind wanders too far, there’s a metal click and the loud clang of the bar across the other side of the door. Shit. You quickly grab your phone and collapse the tripod. You take down the lens and shove it all into the duffel, twisting the lid of your thermos tight and tossing it in before scooping up the unzipped bag. 

Footsteps scuff across the concrete roof as you scurry behind one of the wide chimneys and lean against the cinder block. You hold your breath as a man calls out, “hello?” he paces around, “someone out here?” 

Fuck! You put your head back. You won’t be coming back here again. It took you weeks to find the place and get the right angle, a good distance to keep from alerting Steve but not too far either. 

A flashlight casts a yellow light back and forth but doesn’t come close to you as you stay still. The man grunts and grumbles as his soles pad away and the door slams heavily. You wonder what gave you away. You disarmed the alarm on the door before you came up and no one passed you on the stairs. 

Maybe just a regular sweep by the building. You shrug and check the bag before zipping it up. You wait ten more minutes before going to the door and picking the lock. You assure yourself as you descend, you got more than enough to tide you over at least a couple weeks. 

📷

The cafe is busy enough to compound your insignificance. You’re hard to notice on a good day. A hoodie, jeans, just another body in the overcrowded city. You sit with a bottle of water and cookie you won’t eat, pretending to read as others are more obvious in their observation. 

Steve Rogers sits by the window, as if he wants to be seen, chatting over a steaming mug with the stalwart Bucky Barnes. Their conversation seems to frustrate the latter as several patrons interrupt them, asking for a picture or autograph to accompany their lattes and creamy frappucinos. As Steve acquiesces, Bucky leans back and crosses his arms, scowling as he refuses to engage. 

You grin. You kind of get the dude. You hate people, hate the city and the pedants looking for their fifteen minutes or living the delusion that their New York adventure is destined for greatness. You glance back at the page but your eyes don’t focus on the words. 

It’s why you can’t be with Steve. Why you don’t want to be. You just want to watch. You don’t like being noticed. Hate the idea of being watched. You’re not a part of the show, you like being just another faceless figure in the audience. 

Your eyes flick back up. Steve is back to leaning over his cup, an Americano, how fitting. His large hand punctuates whatever point he’s making as you admire the vein in his neck, just above his collar. 

You’re startled as Bucky rests his chin in his hand and you meet his gaze. You don’t react and hide behind the book again. Maybe a bit too obvious. 

You pretend to read for a few minutes then reach for your phone, checking the time. You should leave first. You close the book without marking the page and take your water and cookie and put it in your bag, the patched messenger showing its years. 

It rests against your hip as you stroll out, ignoring the super soldiers until you’re outside. You peek back as you pass the window and Bucky squints at you. What the fuck is his problem? You tuck your head down and continue down the sidewalk. You’ll have to be careful about him. 

📷

You close your journal and tuck it under your mattress. The bed takes up much of your bachelor apartment. You don’t mind the lack of space, it’s just you. It’s preferable to your previous roommates who assured you cohabitation is little more than a form of torture. 

You climb off the twin mattress and stretch as you go to the corner which constitutes your kitchen; a microwave above a compact stove, a fridge that looks straight out of the 60s, and a foot long countertop under a single cupboard. Not much but you often forget to eat as your mind overshadows any physical needs. 

You tear open a package of ramen and add water, shoving it in the nuke as you turn to lean against the counter. Your tall dresser holds most of your possessions, clothes, the pictures, your equipment, and a few toys. Nothing special, just like you. 

The microwave beeps and you put the bowl on the counter. You grab your phone and return, eating at the kitchenette as you slouch to keep from dribbling. You scroll through your phone, several alerts for Steve Rogers in the news. 

‘Cap’s UN Mission: Can he restore America’s repute on the international stage?’ You browse the article and a smile slowly forms as you forget your food and stand, lifting the phone as you search for more.  

The media really is dangerous, you muse. There are exact dates for the conference and Cap’s appearances. That means his place will be empty. It means you’ll be living it up, at least for a few days. 

📷

It’s been more than a month since your first visit to Steve’s apartment. Nothing’s changed and you feel a little less restless there. You know he won’t be back anytime soon so there’s no rush to do much more than bask in the remnants of his presence. 

You can still smell him on the bed sheets and his dirty clothes are still in the hamper. You sort through them, feeling them, sniffing a few shirts. You push the basket back into the corner and search the drawers of his nightstand. Lube, some porn magazines, relics really, and some random odds and ends.  

You go out to the front room and lay on the couch, flicking on the television. The Smithsonian channel. Predictable. You leave it there and watch the hour-long program on clockmaking. Riveting. 

You don’t pay much attention as you stare at the ceiling and think about him. It was that couch where he fucked her. On her knees, clinging to the back as he let loose his strength, not a care for her. You haven’t seen her since. She must’ve expected something different; maybe to be doted on. Pathetic. 

Your hand wanders along the edge of the cushion. Your fingertips brush fabric in the crease of the cushions and you sit up as you pull out the lacy thong. You hold it up and stand, looking down as you hang them against your jeans as if you were wearing them. For him. 

You scoff and bunch them up, tossing them behind the couch. Yeah right. You’re not some leggy blonde, you’re just you. You’d look stupid in something like that. 

Men always looked past you, through you. It’s why you didn’t bother. High school was a farce; shoved into lockers or chased out of school dances. And college, just an extension of the crushing social norms and ridiculous expectations.  

You kissed one guy in your sophomore year but he was worse off than you. You never saw him again after he came in pants just from having your tongue on his. Why would you want some dweeb like that? You’d rather settle for being alone than some freak. 

You sigh as you cross your arms and flop back on the couch. You think too much. This is supposed to be fun, so why does it make you feel so… alone? 

Reality splinters as your heart lurches. Shit. You hear a key in the lock and the sharp turn of the mechanism. Shit! You stand and panic as the door opens, too stunned to react as you trip over the leg of the chair as you try to hide too late. You hit your knees and look up at the figure in the entryway. 

“What the fuck?” the deep voice cuts through you. “Who the fuck are you?” 

Bucky comes into the room and stops short. He tilts his head as you stand, putting your palms out defensively, “look, I was just leav–” 

He’s barreling towards you and you stumble back frantically. He grabs the front of your hoodie and takes you off your feet as he shakes you, like a rat in the gutter. You grasp his thick wrists as you gape at him, speechless. 

“I know you,” he says as recognition wrinkles in his forehead, “I knew you were up to something.” 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you say. 

“Me? I’m watering the plants,” he spits, “what the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Please, I swear, I wasn’t going to do anything–” 

“Shut up!” he snaps and shoves you into the leather chair, looming over you as he clenches the front of your sweater. 

“Let me go and I’ll never come back,” you beg and round your eyes and make your voice higher, just like you’ve seen other women do. You always looked younger than your age. “Please–” 

He scoffs and shakes his head, “I said, shut up.” 

His tone keeps any further plea muted. He glares at you, nostrils flaring as his thoughts swirl in his deep blue irises. He unfurls his fingers and draws his hands away rigidly as he stands straight. 

“Don’t fucking move,” he warns as he combs his fingers through his hair. He watches you for a moment before he looks around and grumbles under his breath, “don’t have the fucking time for this.” 

[life-is-more-than-just-a-game]

♠️ Being found in the Borderlands all by your own. ♠️

Summary: You have already been in the Borderlands for a few days and are familiar with the essential components. After a game, you've lost everyone you had a good bond with. You are the only one who was able to survive. Physically and mentally injured, you sit on the side of the road in the middle of the destroyed and desolate Shibuya district. Ready to drop everything - ready to give up - you'll be found by new players who may or may not have the willingness to help you back up when you've fallen so far.

Characters: Arisu, Chishiya & Niragi.

POV: gn!reader

Warnings: Threats, Weapon (Gun)

A r i s u

The sight of you reminds him a little of himself. He knows the look on your face when you stare in the middle of the void and don't make any effort to move from the spot, even though you know exactly how dangerous it is to just stay in one place and do nothing. When Arisu finds you, he immediately knows what's going on inside you, which is why he's already determined to help you in some way. The problem is that he doesn't know how to help you, considering he doesn't even know how to help himself.

And yet he dares to come to you after a moment's hesitation. Slowly, so you don't think he's trying to hurt you, but… even that wouldn't matter to you at that moment.

At least you don't even dare to look at him. You could say that your self-protection mechanism has left you completely. You're not afraid. No grief. Just… well, what do you feel? Nothing. Actually, it's just an oppressive void.

"I like to be part of someone else's suffering."

With these words, Arisu manages to draw your attention to him. He may get a confused, almost bewildered look from you, but it's worth it to him right now.

"All right, you don't have to say anything. Let's just… let's just sit here together for a little while and look into the distance. And if you need someone to talk to, then ... I'll be here."

What a strange guy, you think.

Still ... it's quite nice gesture, of course.

C h i s h i y a

Just on the way to the next game, Chishiya meets you. He actually had better things to do than take care of you, which is why he didn't want to pay attention to you at all, but he finds it strange that you don't respond to anything.

He's just a few feet in front of you and you're looking right at him. His gaze is focused on you, you don't react. He speaks to you with a "Hard Game Finished?" but you sit silently on your spot and don't even make the slightest attempt to give him an answer. Nonsense. Apparently, you didn't even hear him. What if he waves? You're still not moving.

That eventually makes him come over to you, just to see if you're at least reacting to it. It's sad to say nothing's happening here either. Only when he squats in front of you and looks straight into your eyes, do you at least give the reaction of you to move your eyes so that you don't look straight into his. Eye contact has never been your strength.

"Pale. Slight tremor. Indifference."

He doesn't care if you listen to him at all, but the fact is, he's going to have to give up the upcoming game after all.

"A slight shock, it looks like."

Without thinking about it, he sits down on the stony, cold floor, inspecting the wound in your face while keeping a healthy distance from you.

"I can stitch the wound when you come back to reality."

Why is he even telling you this? He'll have to start smiling about it himself. There won't be any feedback from you either way.

"It's okay", he says, "I have time."

N i r a g i

Most people who know him know how impulsive and violent Niragi can be, but as far as you're concerned, you have absolutely no clue. You didn't even mean for him to trip over your legs. You just sit on the floor and try to deal with the straightforward experience somehow. Forget the pictures of your comrades being brutally murdered. But now you are being prevented from doing so by being all the time riddled with a psycho, one might say, whom you have never even seen before in your life.

Normally, you'd apologize for what happened. I don't care if it was really your fault or not. As long as they leave you alone and go back on their way. And if there weren't any excuses, you'd at least take your legs and just walk away to get out of the situation.

Today, however, it is different. You let the curse and the provocation come upon you. Insults pass you by and don't interest you in the slightest. This, however, makes everything feel even worse. Don't you always say you shouldn't get involved with people like that? That you should just ignore them because then they'd stop harassing you? After all, it should be boring to just give monologues at some point, right? Not with Niragi, who will eventually point his gun at you, threatening to kill you if you continue to ignore him.

"Do it," you whisper softly to yourself, which is more than just serious. "Kill me," you continue, "there's nothing keeping me here any more…"

That's where you finally turn to the unknown, whom you have taken out of concept with these words.

He lowers his gun slowly and only looks at you with irritation. Did you really just say that? Did you really just give him permission to kill you with his own hands? To shoot you down?

"Wow."

Even him makes this speechless.

"Looks like someone's already done with their life."

Without saying anything else, he looks down at you in disgust, holding the gun loosely with both of his hands again, before only a bored "Hm" comes over him.

"Freak", he says, leaving you alone from now on.

Luck in unhappiness, you think ...

[realvicoba]

My views on Gon's rage scene!! 🤓🫶

Let's get this out of the way first— is Gon a selfish monster?

Let me show some nuance in his rage scene and tunnel vision onto Pitou, how he hurt Killua, and his threats on an innocent girl.

Even while filled with rage to the point of almost losing himself and dealing a killing blow to Morel at that phase of his life, he was still worried about Palm's safety and one of the first to realize the inherent danger Knuckle and Meleoron were in on that staircase and the possibility of Youpi not having an oppenent.

He still had the wit and the care for his comrades.

And when Knuckle came on screen while Gon was actively seething in front of Pitou, he still made an effort to let Knuckle know that Pouf was a liar.

So we saw two little scenes where Gon showed that despite his rage and goal, he still put time aside to help his comrades. In the middle of all the anger, all the guilt, and the bloodthirst— he didn't forget his bros.

We already know he did wrong things. Threatening Komugi was very shocking, but as I've mentioned in my Gon character study— it was a moment of anger, confused morals and desperation to keep the monster in control.

With that out the way, let's get to the main course... How he hurt Killua.

Killua wants to be relied on, no matter the cost. He wants this to be like the volleyball match where Gon could only rely on him regardless of how much pain it could cause Killua— he wants them to go down in flames together, a "lover's suicide" as the original Japanese text says.

He wants to be proven to once more that Gon needs him and no one else, that he can't go alone. Killua needs to feel important that way, he needs to feel worthwhile, that he can do something for his best friend to help him the way no one else can.

Gon going off on his own like that broke that source of comfort and self worth Killua had created in Gon needing him.

And if anything, I think it was very important for Killua's character.

It was incredibly important for Killua to be pushed away at that moment, to not be allowed to sacrifice himself, and in turn get the time to rethink what he needs and wants to do with his life and his views on friendship.

And having to clean up an impossible mess after him put into perspective just how important Killua is, and that's why he was so adament on being the one to save Gon.

It's honestly such an interesting scene— It's not like Killua suddenly did a 180, but something this severe and seeing Gon's immature side and flaws on display more had a huge hand in his character development.

That's Killua's side, what about Gon's? We know both of them love each other dearly, and while Killua wished to go down with him, Gon wanted to be the one to carry that burden. Alone.

"I killed him."

Even though Killua was there too, and blamed himself as well. Gon didn't consider him responsible at all despite him running away as well, and Killua saying so.

And Gon comforts Killua, and himself.

As much as Killua sees Gon as the light, Gon sees him as the voice of reason. His awesome, smart friend who does no wrong— both have each other on a pedestal.

Though blinded by confusion and rage during the fight, he undervalued Killua's judgment, but still listened enough to wait for Pitou to finish healing Komugi.

And I also believe Gon was saving up his rage for that moment.

It was his battle, because it's his fault. Killua has no business because not only did Kite not hold as much importance to him, but because he had no fault in the matter— Killua didn't need to sacrifice himself again.

So, while Killua was willing to die alongside his friend and carry the burden together, Gon wanted to be the only one sacrificing himself and carrying that burden. He said so in the Yorknew city arc, and he proved it in the CAA.

He loves Killua, and it even shows in his harsher and cruel words.

I hope this made sense 🙏

[cod-dump]

Step dad Graves is so so funny. Especially if they’re close in age and both secretly love it whilst putting up a fuss. Let Ghost collect father figures and Graves get to impart knowledge . Let Graves hate it at first then get some Ghost lore and be like “…I’m not your stepdad I’m only 6 years older than you…… what do you mean you never had a birthday cake…… what do you mean you were made to laugh at a dying prostitute…… “well guess I’m getting this man a skull cake and we’re playing catch in the yard

The more Graves learned about Ghost the harder it was to pretend he didn’t like him.

They were barely friendly when they worked together going after Hassan and Graves’ betrayal ruined whatever that was. Graves cutting ties with Shepherd and fully working with 141 (to atone for his past and right wrongs all while being able to still work) Ghost had greeted him with much expected hostility.

And Graves responded with indifference. He figured things would stay that way, Ghost would never let go what happened and Graves would never show any care for the man beyond comrades. But then Graves started learning bits and pieces about him, the longer they were around each other the more Ghost started to start talking to him with actual conversations instead of threats. That’s how Graves learned about his fear of snakes. The Ghost, the man who would pick up a fucking spider bare handed, an animal lover to the core, was terrified of snakes.

Graves discovered this during a mission together. They had spent that time in that forest in almost complete silence, waiting for Price to give them the go ahead, when the fearsome Ghost jolted where he laid, flinging something into the bushes nearby before moving away from the spot he had laid in without even moving an inch for two hours.

“Fucking devilish bitch!”

Graves saw the tail end of a snake darting away, and that was when he learned about Ghost’s fear. And that would open up to him learning a lot more about Ghost, more than he ever imagined due to their not so friendly work environment. He, of course, originally was going to taunt Ghost over his rather surprising fear, planning to exploit it until it was no longer effective.

But, of course, he would learn something else related to the snake. Ghost seemingly was deep in his mind after running in with the limbless creature, and he offered up a explanation for his irrational fear (irrational considering all the other creatures he adores).

“Old man liked to force them in my face. Thought how I squirmed was hilarious.”

And just like that, after that piece of information was processed, Ghost didn’t say another word. Graves was left with that piece of history involving Ghost he never expected to learn, let alone from Ghost himself. And after that, Ghost seemed to open up to him more. Graves would like to think he heard himself some leeway with Ghost by not going through with his original intentions on teasing him. It was the only thing that made sense as to why Ghost was starting to warm up to him.

Warming up to him to the point he was willingly offering up more of his lore.

“Don’t like crowds, especially not in dark places.”

He dropped that on another mission, completely unprompted. It was a mutter just for Graves to hear, even though Gaz wasn’t far away. That made something stir within him, something about Ghost just telling him something instead of a man who he is considerably much closer with. And that slight tug of his heart strings became pulling when he learned why he didn’t like crowds. And his old man was behind the reason as well.

The more Graves learned about Ghost, the more he hated his probably long dead father. There was a twisted similarity to Mr. Riley and Graves’ own father. And that just made him become protective of Ghost. He started treating Ghost like he did his Shadows. He was pretty much Shadow materiel with skill and efficiency, but now he was a Shadow to Graves because of what he went through.

Graves had a type he went for when recruiting Shadows. He looked for skill, experience, attitude — But he also looked at their history. He has a soft spot for those with bad home lives, made him feel more connected with them. If he was looking over Ghost’s records with the intention of recruiting him into Shadow Company, man would’ve been a Shadow after he learned about Roba.

“Since when are you two friends?” Soap had questioned, Graves noticing the jealousy in his voice but also the curiosity.

“I can understand his accent better,” Ghost jabbed at Soap, his eyes squinting slightly to show he was smiling under his mask.

Soap made a very insulted gasp, “Oh, is that so?”

Graves felt at place finally, standing next to Ghost as he and Soap bickered. It turned playful rather quickly and Graves felt more at ease next to Soap than he had since they first met. And, dare he even think it, Ghost felt comfortable standing next to him. Finally opening up, finally dropping his metaphorical mask of hostility (Graves doubts he’ll take off his actual mask any time soon).

And, of course Price noticed. He noticed a while back, Graves knows he had. Man knows anything that has to do with his boys, especially Ghost. He hadn’t said a word, never hinted in any way to show he knew. He just acted like it had always been. It was like he wasn’t even surprised. Goes to show he knew Ghost was better than anyone.

“Good to see you two finally getting along,” Price said to Graves one evening, the two had long retired to bed while the boys stayed up playing cards (not UNO, they would be enemies before morning and it would take a few days to get them to drop the pettiness).

Graves hummed, taking a moment to realize what Price was talking about. He didn’t expect him to say anything without Graves mentioning it first.

“We’re tolerating each other.”

Price hummed back, slight smirk on his lips. He knew. He knew that Graves considers Ghost as one of his Shadows. As one of his boys.

[bugs1nmybrain]

Shigaraki With a Girlfriend Headcanons

Warnings: fem reader as title suggests, sex, dub-con/non-con, shigaraki isn't healthy, fluffy if you can get past the darkish content, domestic abuse themes, misogynistic Tomura, anal mention, a lot of headcanons, typos but i don't have time to fix them right now

18+ Minors Don't Interact

Mellows out more, especially if he's around you and you alone

When Shigaraki has you around others he can get a bit cocky. He likes showing off his cute little girlfriend and how he's got such a cutie absolutely obsessed with him

When it's only you and him he's kind of domestic, surprisingly. You'll find him often coming up to cuddle you or touch you somehow and drag you to play games with him. Or more accurately you watch him game while he kisses and bites your neck

He likes doing cheesy couple things you'll come to find, such as going for walks, movies, out to eat, or just cuddle in bed for a while

That said, he's actually very cuddly once he's sure he can control touching you. If you're immune to his quirk, he'll still doubt it for a while and will touch you as if he's touching a hot stove. Once he knows you won't crumble, you won't be able to get him off of you

And if you aren't immune, those gloves that the doctor gave him as a child will make a comeback

He sort of doesn't even believe he has a GIRLFRIEND?!?! Makes him cackle and giggle sometimes

You can draw those cackles out by kissing his face and letting him touch you however he wants

He's horny so very horny

He's never had someone touch him so lovingly. He loves it. He loves that you love him.

As codependent as it is, you're pretty much the only thing he loves. That, and video games. And yes, he respects and appreciates his comrades. But love, as in genuinely caring for someone and wanting to see them happy? Only you

His temper is short and it's easy to piss him off but he sort of teaches himself a "count to 10" thing for you. He doesn't actually want to hurt you or your feelings. Though he'll admit, seeing your eyes water when he does something bad makes that sick, evil part of him smile

He can get carried away during sex. He's actually very eager to please you and make you beg for him. It wouldn't be fun if you didn't crave his cock, right?

He oversteps boundaries sometimes and will be very pushy. You'll have to speak up, but even then he might banter with you, "come onnn..but you're so pretty thoughhh~"

After the fact he'll pull you into snuggle and sleep with him. He considers that his act of redemption.

In case it didn't dawn on you, he's evil

He's able to be down to earth with you too and will open up about things he'd never tell others with you. He trusts you

His mommy issues may get taken out on you sometimes, and not even just in the sexy way. He can get very pouty and bratty with you or even just needy for attention.

He loves you sooo much. I've said that, but for real. His version of love is sick and maybe it's better to say that he's obsessed with you. He wants you all the time, and wants you to be his and his ONLY.

That said, he's the boyfriend who goes through phones. He paid attention when you put in your password while he was around you. He'll look through your messages to make sure there's no guys or funny people. He'll turn on location features while you're unaware so he can check on your location when he's not with you.

He'll look through your porn history too but he most likely won't be mad at anything he sees. It'll just make him horny and he'll pester you with questions. "Hehe you're into that?!" "Would it make you ooey gooey if I did that to you?" "Nasty whore hehehe."

Will take pictures of you without your permission, lewd or just innocent. He misses you when you're away and likes to look at them.

He doesn't show them to people except that one time he did let Dabi see a filthy video he took once while you and him were fucking. Dabi questioned his sexual abilities, so naturally he had to prove him wrong.

If anyone disrespected you the only person who could stop him is you, to be honest. He won't tolerate it and will absolutely hurt someone in your honor.

If anyone tried to take advantage of you or hurt you, bye bye

Doubts himself a lot and makes you feel guilty for it. He'll pester you. Is he good enough for you? Do you not love him? Is he ugly? Is his dick too small? He's too crazy for you right? Too bad? Too damaged? There's no way you love him, you lying bitch!

He's kind of misogynistic. Mansplains. Complains about how women accuse men of shit that "they don't do" and then does said things

Period specific hc: didn't take your period cramps seriously at first because he couldn't fathom how they were that bad. He thought you were being dramatic. It only took him taking you around his buddies and you absolutely dying in pain the entire time. He actually felt bad.

Sometimes he'll even give you the princess treatment. Spoil you with kisses, cuddles, and games. He'll bring some snacks too. Maybe pull you into the shower if he's smelly that day.

Boobies guy. But also loves butts. Actually, he can't pick. Because he loves sucking on titties but also likes putting his dick up your ass (when you let him lol). He loves your body so much, but he's not THAT shallow. It's the fact that it's YOUR body on YOU, attached to your cute facial expressions, and your cute lil heart.

Sex with him varies. It can be pretty sexy and sensual, actually. You'd be surprised how much Tomura just wants some genuine love and affection. But it can also very easily be rough and animalistic

All that hate and rage inside Tomura gets taken out on your wet pussy. You'll be sore. He'll say sorry and buy you a coffee later to atone for his sins.

If you want him to brush his teeth, you have to take him with you. If you treat it as a ☆bonding time☆between you and him, he'll do it. Otherwise, Tomura doesn't even remember most of the time. His breath smells. It's bad sometimes. When he flosses once every 6 months there's a pool of blood in the sink. Probably has gum disease.

Collects figures! And he'll never demand that you buy him things but if you did he'd be super embarrassed, but also grateful. He'll probably just hide his face and mutter a little.."thank yew". But the fact that you care about him like that makes his heart HURT

These love feelings confuse him because he fucking HATES how tight his chest feels and how heavy his bones and foggy his head is when he finds himself adoring you so damn much. He also adoressss you. You're his one and only and his only reason for ever doing anything generous to anybody. If he wasn't so fucking stubborn you'd probably be enough to "save" him

[zeroducks-2]

I am conflicted. Your SlaDick art makes me go hnngg, but I've never found Slade to be a particularly interesting character. A good 80% of what I see about him on here is just discourse, which usually points towards a character being super intriguing, but most of what I've read in the comics he just seems like 'Generic Assassin Character With Bonus Divorced Dad Elements' What am I missing out on???

(Also, can I have a link to your header image? I need to reblog that asap)

Hey Tiger! How are you doing? Unfortunately I can't give you a tumblr link to my header image because tumblr's puritan ass considers it too much and took the post down LOL (it is literally just a guy in lingerie so idk what they're on about). You can have the Bluesky link instead.

Okay so about Slade. I honestly don't get the whole, uhh... "it's funny cause he's divorced" thing going on in the Slade fanbase. Like yeah he used to be a military man, he got married and had kids, but because he secretly became a mercenary and made lots of enemies, one of his sons very nearly died and his wife (understandably!) divorced him for it. I don't get what's funny about it, I don't get why people go "LOLOL he's a divorced guy!" like where's the punchline exactly? Lots of people get divorced is that a funny thing...?

Well but anyway. He used to be a very complex, very gray character in the 80s, when he was written by Wolfman and Perez. Initially he was not exactly a bad guy despite acting in the role of an antagonist, he was going against the Titans to honor the memory of his dead eldest son. Of course being a mercenary with little qualms about killing people put him in the gray area by default, but he was nice with the kids when the situation allowed it, very loving towards his middle child (Joseph, who also was a Titan), and he and Dick held mutual respect for each other (to the point that Dick convinced Bruce that Slade was actually a good man, and a honorable man who would never break his word. Which tbf was true).

The run Deathstroke The Terminator which ran from 1991 to 1996 is interesting and complex, selling itself like a Macho Man Thing! With Guns! And Explosions!, while it's actually tackling delicate themes such as parental grief, loss, CPTSD, the horrors of war and such. Slade's incrollable friendship and loyalty towards William "Billy" Randolph Wintergreen (former comrade in arms) is a very important and fairly touching aspect of it, and Slade's struggle to just Be A Good Person despite everything (and failing) is imo very compelling.

Over the years (and at this point irremediably), Slade has veered from being a gray, complex and multidimensional character into being only a villain. He stopped being caring towards his family (or he's directly manipulative and abusive especially towards Rose, youngest child born from adultery), he stopped being "fatherly" towards the Titans, and lost complexity overall. What he gained were impeccable Daddy Dom vibes, also thanks to the cartoon (Teen Titans 2003), where a Slade Wilson inspired character (called only "Slade" and voiced by Ron Perlman) is the embodiment of evil and has a fixation on young Robin Dick Grayson.

There are more "modern" moments in which Slade is still an interesting character. Like when he tried to steal the speed force from Wally (and eventually got it from Ace) to go back in time and save his eldest son's life (and failed miserably, but managed to change the fact that Grant, his boy, had died alone, because he held him through his last moments). The Slade you see being shipped with Dick is sort of an amalgam of all that... sometimes he's the sharp, wicked monster of the tt03 cartoon, sometimes he's a more gentle elder man who genuinely grew fond of Dick, sometimes he's a piece of garbage who's toying with a kid, and most of the times he's a ruthless mercenary who will stop for nothing and no one to fulfill his contracts... but he has a soft spot for Dick.

This last bit of characterization comes from the most iconic Nightwing run (1996 by Devin Grayson), and it's where Dick and Slade have some of their most interesting interactions since the New Teen Titans run of the 80s. There Slade acts like a lazy but dangerous big cat, and Dick has his carefully studied methods of dealing with him, which work because Slade is very fond of him basically.

There are more things to say but this post is long enough already! I feel Slade is one of the characters who have been done dirty by DC executives, because they have a hard time dealing with gray characters overall. He's versatile when it comes to fanworks because his characterization is all over the place (except a couple core concepts he's a different character in each media he appears in, basically), and Sladick is ridiculously hot and works imo very well in lots of different circumstances.

[affableramen]

Hiii! I love your writing, it has a nice flow to and fits together so beautifully. I was wondering if you would consider taking this request.

The reader and Pantalone are both in the Fatui. They aren’t exactly in a relationship, but their relationship status is definitely beyond just being acquaintances and even friends. So far beyond that like gossip began to spread around the Fatui and even the public. So basically after all that, the reader decides to distance from Pantalone(about like a month or so idk make however long you want). But then one day he comes to knock on the reader’s office door, and without wanting to cause any scene, the reader lets him in. And honestly from there you can write a range from fluff to nsfw content, either would be fine. Thank you!!!

(Preferably make the reader female)

You knew that sooner or later it would come to public that your and Pantalone’s relationship was not strictly businesslike. Although it started the most professional way, you two being comrades, despite the differences in rank, age and power, still had a potential to bloom into something less conservative and more intimate. Dating a Harbinger obviously had its positive impact, for instance being constantly protected and secured from outer threats. No one would dare to lift their finger at someone who’s standing in a Harbinger’s shadow. Unfortunately the negative sides showed themselves eventually, too. Despite feeling secured and confident in your physical safety, you started having minor inconveniences. Such minor inconveniences only seemed so at first flance, and later they started to grow more and more irritating, causing not only anxiety to you but big distress to the Fatui organisation in general. Not to Pantalone, though – he didn't care.

“Do you spread your legs for every rich businessman or is it only Regrator?” female employees inquired with sardonic smiles. The amount of inappropriate comments like that would only grow with each passing day, and honestly, it slowly became unbearable. 

“I saw them walk together late at night. Can you imagine? Unmarried woman walking with a Harbinger at dark times alone.”

The most infuriating thing about all this was not just their comment, but the truth. In all your relationship period with Pantalone you have never been involved with him sexually! But those fools just wanted to humiliate you in front of everyone. You didn't even know if it had reached Pantalone’s ears, and hopefully it didn't – otherwise you’d die of embarrassment.

One day you lost all your patience and headed to his office. It was time when you’d tell him you wanted a break. “Just a month or two”, you think, “it won’t be forever.”

When you entered his private room and closed the door with a soft click, you already noticed a slight frown on Pantalone’s face as if he already knew what you were going to tell.

“Sit”, he demanded you. You took a sit in front of his desk, while Pantalone was finishing some of his paperwork. With his free hand he pushed a cup of tea in your direction, one that’s specifically prepared for you. 

“Thanks”, that hot cup of tea was soothing and could definitely make a difference to this cold day. But unfortunately it couldn't influence the tension bulding between you two. Pantalone suspected your fears long before and subconsciously he knew that this relationship would harm you and your honour. 

He put his pen and ink away and turned his gaze at you.

“You really can’t just ignore those comments, hm? I knew you’re too caring for taking risks like that. After all, a Harbinger is a public personaa and is a subject to be discussed publicly. His private life, too.”

“You seem to not be affected.”

“I am hundreds years old, my dear. Surely you don’t think I worry about my reputation that much? Please, I have done so many things that would scare people much more than dating a mortal woman who has just recently joined Fatui.”

You took a sip from the cup not breaking an eye contact with him.

“Perhaps you’re right. Yet I fail to see how we’re going to solve this drama gathering around us. The only solution I could suggest you is to part for a while.”

“You want me to leave you alone?” The mere mention of the words would make him sick to the stomach yet he kept his composure quite well. You wouldn't lie and say you felt nothing. The sickness washed over you just at the thought of stopping any informal interaction with the Harbinger.

“Surely you don’t think it’s a good reason for us to take a pause, no?” A slight hint of possessiveness and unwillingness to separate himself from you appeared on his face.

“I know how it sounds, but Pantalone, we can’t possibly work when everyone around us just keeps plotting. Have you heard what they say about me? They just keep saying how I spread my legs for every Harbinger in 10 metre radius.”

“Darling, why’d you prefer listening to some…. randoms, instead of listening to your partner, hm? I really fail to understand you sometimes.”

You rubbed the bridge of your nose.

“Oh Pants, you really don’t get what it means to a woman? Especially to someone who just joined the ranks, and got immediately mixed with a sack of shit?”

“Enough.”

“Are you saying I’m stupid?”

“Not stupid. Just too empathetic and sensitive.”

“What are you, then? Super chill and indifferent? Or are you just too cool to think of my problems?”

At that moment something inside Pantalone finally cracked inside and he squeezed his fist. It only took him a few seconds to visually suppress his anger before he got back to his friendly, appealing self. 

“Alright. If that makes you happy. Remember, though, you can always come back to me. Once you’re done with your sensitive attitude, that is.”

It was a recurrent Pulcinella’s monthly speech. He would gather everyone around, not only Harbingers but also the newly appointed recruits. You were sure it was something important and you did listen to the half of it, if not certain someone who would constantly distract you. As much as you tried to concentrate on the Rooster, you couldn't help but be bothered by a malicious gaze on your back. You decided to take action. Slowly turning your head to the size, you caught Pantalone’s gaze. Per usual, he was standing in the furthest corner, his silhouette hardly lit and almost completely coverd in thick shadow, yet the glimpse of his glasses was in order.

Pantalone was staring at you with a look that suggested he was either watching your every move or waiting for you to finally admit his presence. It was always difficult to indicate what was going through this man’s mind. Two weeks passed since the two of you stopped talking outside of work, and it took its toll on you, too. So partially you could understand his frustration.

When Rooster finished his speech you left the HQ with everyone else, but upon walking through the corridor you felt someone grip your wrist tightly.

“Hey, you-”

It was Pantalone. He pulled you closer, but not flush, just the distance between you to let him see your face clearly.

“May I ask you something?”

You were stunned. It was so informal, unprofessional and blunt – you’d never ever expect something like that from Regrator. You calmed yourself down, sighed and attempted to respond, but right at that moment, as if by a disgusting twist of fate, Rooster was walking exactly in your direction wih a few recruits accompanying him. He was eagerly explaining them their duties, it seemed. 

“Shit. We can’t let them see us like this”, you said and looked into Pantalone’s eyes, but he remained still, no idea as to how escape awkwardness. Quickly, you looked around and -bingo- there was a storage room just to your right. 

“What are you doing?” His voice was as flat as it used to be, yet he followed you without futher bickering.

Hastily, you grasped the edge of Pantalone’s fur coat and pulled him inside, closing the storage room behind you. Throught the door whole, you saw Rooster stop right near that damn storage room.

“Oh no, he’s not going to leave soon, is he?” You whispered to Pantalone. In attempt to turn to face him, you accidentally stood on an empty glass bottle of vodka left on the floor and landed… on Pantalone's lap.

He was sitting at the wooden chair in the centre of the storage room, definitely not expecting you fall at him like that. Bumping into his neck, you almost immediately pulled away as if you saw a ghost.

“Oh my god.”

A futile attempt to raise from his thighs was crushed by Rooster’s sudden exclamation outside:

“Oh my Goodness! Did you hear that?”

Pantalone immediately grabbed your shoulder and told you to be silent only with his lips. You froze and kept still, waiting for the wave of curious Fatui outside to pass. After a few moments it was impossible to ignore the fact that you were, indeed, on his lap, and he was on a chair, not really comfortable. But he was a Harbinger, and previously a thug, obviously he could show great deal of stamina?

You carefully turned your head to catch a glimpse of the happening outside through the door hole but Pantalone gripped you tightly, almost gluing you to the current position.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Move.”

Only then, after his explicit remark, you finally realised the problem. You were sitting on his thighs. Quite literally!

Your eyes widened at the feel of something hard growing somewhere in the middle of his thigh.

“Oh my god. Really, oh my god”.

You looked down, and then raise your eyes back at him – his Adam’s apple shifted quite vividly, he most obviously swallowed impatiently. You suddenly felt heat spreading through your chest. Pantalone, caught in the storage room, hiding with you. And you, straddling him with your hips mercilessly. If anyone saw this, they would never believe the original story, they’d rather consider you two having an intimate affair right here, in such a closed space. And as a matter of fact, no one would blame them for that.

You looked back at Pantalone’s face, he licked his dry lips as an animal in heat. You could feel how he struggles having you so dangerously close, right on top of him, when the both of you decide to take a break. It was so infuriatingly ironic. Yet you stood still, trying to not make things worse for him… and yourself.

Eventually the voices outside got farther away. You carefully stood up from Pantalone, and he shut his eyes for a moment, letting out a soft sigh of relief, probably. He adjusted his clothes, and you pushed the storage room open. No one was in the corridor, safe territory, absolutely. You pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear and asked:

“So, what did you want to ask before we… erm…”

Pantalone fixed his glasses and stood up from the chair too. 

“Initially I wanted to clarify if you still want to keep our break due, or if you had changed your mind”, he approached you closer and cornered you to the wall, all in a blink of an eye. 

“I don’t think this break will ever work”, he said, extending his arm and placing it against the wall, next to your ear. “If you want to break up with me, at least find a more solid reason than dirty gossip”, Regrator leaned at close proximity to your cheek and trailed a line with his lips from your cheekbone down to your neck and stopped right there. You placed your hand on his chest in return, his pulse rate wild. 

“Fine, fine, stop you”, you punched him in the shoulder lightheartedly. “Let’s go back to work until we’re wanted.”

“If we do, you ought to accompany me, I’m afraid”, he extended his arm.

You rolled his eyes, silly.

“You wouldn't have it any other way, jealous mister?” 

The familiar touch to his gloved hand was filled with warmth and longing. 

[llleavemealoneplease]

OMG HII MASHLE BLOG AND MORE SKDJKDKS umm can I request reader x either orter or rayne coming back from a mission and they turn into a child ( kinda like that one episode where lance and dot became babies hahaja) like maybe kaldo or ryoh drop the reader at their office and they gotta babysit them hehe thank you if you ever take up on this request! ~ ᗢ

> || Orter Mádl x gn!reader

A/N: Hey chat maybe if this gets a lot of likes I’ll do Rayne(after like.. a few requests, trust!!) Sorry that it took so long and it turned out to be shitty lol, uh barely proofreaded, hope y'all enjoy tho

As someone who strives to work a lot, there particularly have always been tasks that mostly have been assigned to you that could be considered odd… There would have been examples now, but it’s sort of the best to specifically forget about it…, which kind of is fairly significant.

Today generally was just like any ordinary day, checking paperwork, sitting on a chair, and remaining in your office for the entire day in a particularly major way. However, this could have been considered the most normal workday you've ever had for the generally entire week. Unfortunately, no.

It was supposed to be a normal day! Till someone knocked at your office door. It slowly creaked itself open, revealing Kaldo, that man who has a weird addiction to honey, walked in. Carrying what almost looked like a baby. Go get your glasses checked. (Do you even wear any?)

“Good day, Mx. (L/N). I, the Flame Cane, Kaldo Gehenna, Have come to assign you with a very important ta—“ “Get straight to the point.” You interrupted Kaldo as he spoke. Another task? Why yes, “Alright, I will… So, please take care of ‘little’ Orter.” The Flame cane spoke in what seemed to be a ‘forced formal tone’. You had easily identified that he was trying to make this quick, perhaps he had other activities for the day But wait, what did Kaldo mean by ‘little Orter’? Did he mean Wirth?

“Wirth?” You asked, but you took realization as you fixed your gaze on the baby, it was Orter. Orter fucking Mádl. The Sand Cane. Mr. Grumpyface. The book nerd. It was him! He got turned into a baby??? HOW???

If there’s something to expect in working at the Bureau of Magic, it is that they can assign weird and obscure tasks that could be considered as “vague.” But if it was for protecting the people, then so be it. For the sake of the people… Focusing back on the current events,

“No, Orter.” The man paused before speaking again. “He got turned into a baby because of an individual move he made on a mission… But, ah, look! Isn't he so cute?” Kaldo poked Orter’s cheeks, sure, he may be cute, but Kaldo may have forgotten that Orter could use 10% of his sand magic, therefore he used it to spray sand on the white-haired man’s eyes, temporarily blinding him. It was a funny interaction, you chuckled. But knowing that you had to take this seriously, you nodded. There goes your free time, but it's for a comrade! And that comrade is Orter…. Yikes…. Okay, maybe you’d want this.

“Alright, I'll take him in, you owe me one though, Kaldo—” Before you could continue, the Flame Cane already left in a rush, leaving Orter at your desk. Now it was just you and that baby. Even being in such a small form, he still glares intensely. A question lingers in your head, how do you take care of babies? Is it necessary to treat Orter as one? After all, this effect only looks momentary. No one knows how long. But what you know is that the black-haired child(man) would not want to be treated as a baby. He is physically 23, he can grind you to sand! But now, he is in what can be considered one of the most vulnerable states he has ever been in, if not the most vulnerable. No wonder why Kaldo urged you to babysit him. This was urgent for the sake of the Divine Visionaries. Losing Orter was a monumental risk. How bad can this be?

Really bad.

Time had passed, and both of you were in a staring competition. Though, you guys were well acquainted or even best friends! Or maybe even more than that. Yet this feels awkward. You have no experience with babies. How does one talk to a baby? “Goo goo gaa gaa???” You said to Orter in an attempt to communicate with him. He stared back. Then proceeds to use his magic to throw sand on your eyes. The pain was minimal, at least. He taps at the paperwork you were supposed to finish. You got reminded! But where to place the baby… Surely now, he was tasking you to finish it. HE WAS GLARING.

There was only one choice. Actually, there were plenty but Orter was your friend, of course, you’d want to spend time with him, even as a baby.

Placing baby Orter near you!!! Surely the chair you were sitting on had some space for one more!! So you carried him and placed him near where you sat at. Pat pat, patting Orter’s head felt quite nice. (Orter may feel the same way but refuses to express it.)

“Stay here, alright?” You instructed to Orter wagging your hand… He’s gonna be pissed once he turns back to normal, WAS IT NECESSARY TO TREAT HIM LIKE AN ACTUAL BABY??? Why yes, of course. Did he resist? Not much, he only sat down next to you peacefully, Damm. You're gonna make fun of him after this.

A few hours in(it's been a few minutes, this is just exaggerated.) and you already feel fatigued after working, glancing at Orter thinking he was asleep and perhaps you can slack off, nope. Still awake. This made you consider your strength. Why are you scared of a baby? well, this is Orter you're babysitting, but by the looks of it, Orter is the one babysitting you. “What uh… Are you hungry young one?” You asked and he nodded no in response, instead, he pointed at your paperwork, ordering you to stop focusing on him and to finish it. Of course you had to follow that.

(If this were to ever be in a modern setting, he would be the definition of the boss baby.)

Okay, this time, it had been hours in, and you now feel sincerely tired. Taking a glimpse at the window, it was already afternoon, taking a small check at Orter, yes! He's finally resting!! Staring back, you can see how Orter looked relaxed by simply getting rest, even as a baby, it felt like it was enough. Working at the Bureau of Magic requires a lot of sacrificing of schedule to keep the world at peace. The Sand Cane was dedicated to that. Even the fact that he somewhat turned into a baby. You had always admired his hard work, and now, here he is. Asleep near you as a baby. You’d love to tease him once he turns back. Only if you’d survive the sand attack. That was for him to settle, now it was safe to slack off. You’ve finished the majority of your tasks anyway, so you relax in the chair, leaning in, closing your eyes as you process your thoughts on what happened today. Whatever, just make sure that you wake up earlier than that cranky-ass baby with glasses. You refuse to get sand in your eyes again.

An hour or two had passed, ah yes, the Excellency(you) had awakened from their slumber. (exaggerated again… lol..) But something felt so odd, that caused you to open your eyes, just to reveal that a coat was draped around you, whose coat was this… Looking to your side, Orter was gone. KALDO WAS GONNA KILL YOU.

“I'm right here,” Orter called, which caused you to look in front of the desk, it was him. Sitting across the desk, yours specifically. What should concern you more? The fact that he wasn't wearing his coat and gave it to you, or the fact that he was reviewing the paperwork you did earlier??

“Oh, uhm. Sorry, I suppose this is yours—” You were about to return his jacket, it felt morally wrong to take it, because…. It's not yours?

“No, keep it for now.” Oh? Orter even insisted that felt odd, yet appreciated by you. It looked like an invite that he was letting you tease him. He looked back at your work and nodded in approval, that was good. At least you weren't gonna pull out your soul out of your body this time. “You have surprisingly done well.” Well, obviously! It’s about time that someone notices your efforts. Who wouldn’t want to compliment you? (Probably Orter.)

Both exchanged gazes with one another, Orter’s grasp on your paper softened, eventually placing it back down on your table. He looks up at you, with a gaze that looks like he’s expecting you to speak. “Ah, uhm, yeah. I worked hard for those!! Haha…” You exclaimed, trying to lighten up the mood, but was met with even more awkwardness. As much as you hate to admit, it was hard to pick up a proper conversation with him. Always so stoic, so subtle… Yet so handsome? What’s there to dislike… Well, probably the fact that you assumed that he was oblivious.

Orter stares at his watch before looking back at you, “Meet me after work, I’ll treat you for a drink. As my compensation.” He said, of course, the person you are, you tried your best to remain a stoic face. One thing about Orter was, he was straightforward. You nodded, “Quite demanding, aren't we? Fine, I shall accept, but you must tell me the reason why you’re doing this—” poof. Orter was gone already? This was the second time that someone left while you were talking. However, you were left with a feeling of bewilderment. He technically asked you out.

Outside your office, Orter remained still. What is this that he felt? Love— was it? He was a man who could mask his emotions well, but his ears were red. He hid it well. Not to mention, he planned to purposely leave his jacket to you, so that you were forced to go to meet up with him. You looked nice in his coat. Enough for Orter to let out a small smile as he visualized the scene again. “Nice,” he muttered.

“My, my, I wonder why Orter is suddenly smiling out of L/N’s office.” A man called out, it was Kaldo. Orter frowned once again and glared at the Flame cane. “You saw nothing.” The Sand cane spoke out in an authoritative tone before leaving. In the end, this was all Kaldo’s planning, to force Orter to take the shield(which turned him into a baby) and for you to take care of him. He knew that Orter was too inexperienced and lacking in romance. He needs honey to celebrate, yippee.

But, it’s a date, right?

[jesswritesthat]

League of Villains: Biscuits

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~0.9k, fluff

Warnings: Mentions of crime

>>>>——————————>

Everyone had their reasons for joining the League of Villains, some were more open about it than others, but above all there was an underlying level of acceptance. It mattered not where you came from as long as you could do your job when the time called for it. As long as you listened to the orders given you were free to do as you pleased to further your own motivations.

However, even if it was portrayed as a work environment, comradery became a natural component to the dynamic of within the League. Casual conversations began to flow during downtime, meals were shared, items were acquired because they reminded them of a fellow member. None of you would address it as such, but it felt like a friendship or family connection.

That’s probably the reason why you felt comfortable to answer their questions about your past when it randomly came up in discussion one evening after dinner (a variety of instant meals this time).

“I bet you had your pretty little heart broken and you ran away to formulate a massive revenge scheme.” Toga playfully guessed, clasping your hand in hers rather dramatically.

You hummed thoughtfully, now was as good as time as any you supposed, so with a cautious shrug you revealed your history.

“Close, but it was an arranged marriage that I was forced into without my consent. After that I decided such idiocy should be abolished, hence wanting to change hero society alongside you all.”

“A quirk marriage?” Dabi inquired, though it sounded more like a statement, as if he already knew.

“Unfortunately. I wouldn’t have minded if my fiancé and the family were nice, but they…”

“They what?” It spoken in a lower tone, a sense of deadliness underpinning it so much so that it called you to look up. The sight unnerved you.

It wasn’t just Dabi whose sapphire irises burned with something sinister, Toga ran a tentative finger along her knife, Shigaraki paused his game, Spinners’ nails tapped in a slow warning motion like an irritated cat, Twice cracked his knuckles, and Mr Compress had a marble dancing across his fingers.

“The things they did… They were manipulative, and cruel, they didn’t care about me - only the heirs I had the potential to create. That was made painfully clear, but I’d rather not discuss it please.” You took a deep breath to stabilise yourself once again, painting on a falsified smile. “I ran for a reason y’know?”

———

It was the next morning that things felt slightly off, you were feeling guilty for disclosing last night and then abandoning the conversation to scurry off to bed far earlier than usual. The League would understand (or not care enough) to treat you any differently than before as you still held use to them.

Though your breath got trapped in your throat when you scrolled through your phone that morning, air constricting you like a damn python when you read the most prominent headline.

[ Hoshikawa Family Estate Burned To The Ground ]

[ …presumed dead… ]

[ …life altering injuries. ]

[ Potential public backlash from the incriminating evidence exposed online last night is suspected… ]

Wait what? You had to properly read the article rather than scanning through it due to anxiety, skipping past the image of aqua flames devouring the building, to find your desired target. The family crimes, abuse, and other incriminating information had been leaked over various websites from an anonymous source. The revelations would be considered evoking enough to incur violent wrath from many, however you knew who took advantage of the chaos and it likely had to do with your emotions last night.

Your comrades weren’t surprised when you scrambled into the main area in a panic, overlooking a grinning Toga, stifled Twice, and intrigued Compress, when your attention found a bored Dabi.

“You did this?!”

“Huh?” It was so lacklustre you almost threw your phone at him, biting back with picture evidence glaring on your screen.

“Don’t play dumb Dabi, this has your quirk burning all over it.”

The incinerating quirk user came toward you, bending down to pathetically ‘inspect’ the image before shrugging haphazardly.

“Ah you got me Sherlock, Toga and I fancied some s’mores last night. Can’t have those without a campfire.”

“Exactly, it’d be a crime~ We saved biscuits in case you wanted breakfast?” The blonde clapped her hands together, gesturing over to the pile of groceries.

“People died.”

“No, assholes died.” - “Employees were all evacuated.” Twice reiterated, nodding over to Toga who waved to you rather proudly, then licked her lips which told you everything about her recent imposter escapade.

“They deserved better than being ruled by some snobby tyrants so I lead them out to safety.”

The tension within you dispersed slightly, taking in the details of your unbothered teammates (despite the heinous crimes they’d very recently committed) and you breathed words of pure relief.

“Thank you guys…”

You were finally free.

“What’s all the shouting? I almost lost my game because of it.” Tomura slowly strolled in, leaning against the doorframe and sighed painfully. “Oh. Did (L/n) find out about the hacking?”

“Hacking?”

“Bypassing their system security and uncovering hidden agendas was far easier than we expected. Shigaraki made sure the world knew about it too.” Mr Compress addressed with a proud sway to his tone like he hadn’t been involved in the whole thing.

“Eh. It was worth it.” Tomura muttered, taking a bite of pocky.

That’s when you noted the newly opened packet in his hand, and then the additional items littering the hideout now you’d regained your composure.

“Those biscuits…”

“The Hoshikawas’ had a great pantry, and we needed a stock up. It would’ve been a shame for it to go to waste and Spinner had plenty of space in his vehicle.” Himiko replied blissfully cheerful about the ordeal which mortified you more.

“Oh my god, you—“

“Want one?”

These were the moments you lived for now, that flourish of frustration washing away like sea to sand when a packet was offered out toward you.

You smiled, a real grateful smile.

“Definitely.”

<——————————<<<<

[scribescrawls]

Do you think tfone Starscream has crazy amounts of guilt

Like, he's the leader of the High Guard - their purpose was to protect the Primes and Starscream failed.

Do you ever just think about those first days after Sentinel's betrayal? On how UNPRECEDENTED everything is. On how to them it feels like the world ended. Tfone's Cybertron never had an energon crisis before - can you imagine the confusion, the horror everyone felt when the energon suddenly stopped flowing?

How do you think the High Guard felt at that time? They're fresh out of battle with the Quintessons, barely escaped with their lives, comrades dead, the Primes have fallen, and Sentinel got to Iacon before they did. Do they feel raw? Was the despair and bitter defeat cloying?

The energon is drying up. Sentinel still lives and holds Iacon under his deceitful grip. Every few colar cycles, he and the Quintessons ruthlessly hunt for you, while you scramble to hide, barely scraping enough energon to keep yourselves alive while nursing your wounds, physical and emotional.

You cannot go home again. Your enemies rule the skies above and the ground below.

How do you think Starscream felt at that time?

There's no more Primes to fall back into. The next authority in line is a traitor and wants everyone's heads. You have no allies in Iacon - the masses eating up lies from Sentinel's hand like the energon you scarcely managed to find.

There's no one else to defer to or to rely upon — you're on your own. As the leader of the only group who knows the truth, this entire shitshow falls entirely on you to fix. And everyone else? Whose confusion anger panic fear grief despair mirrors that of your own. They look to you to what to do, desperate for answers, desperate on what to do. You don't KNOW what to do.

This never happened before. You don't THINK it'd ever happen. Losing the Primes, losing the Matrix, losing the war. Do you think Starscream vented a little faster that day? A little shallower?

Like, some people seem to vastly downplay just how much the High Guard's situation sucked. It's true they're barely won anything against Sentinel if at all, but considering their odds, can you blame 'em?

You’ve put my thoughts into words perfectly! YES!! Love this! These questions rotate in my brain constantly!

For real I imagine TFOne Starscream is probably drowning in guilt even though it’s not like he could have predicted this would happen and it is unlikely that he could have done anything to prevent it. Considering Alpha Trion’s distress beacon ended up in the trash and never likely reached the High Guard, it’s kind of amazing that the High Guard made it in time to even witness Sentinel’s betrayal at the cave at all. But even though I personally don’t think there was anything more he could have done to prevent the Primes’ deaths, I don’t think it stops Starscream from feeling guilty about it. The plaguing questions of ‘what if I had been just a little faster would our friends and comrades be alive?’, ‘would the planet not be devoid of energon if I could have saved even one of them?’, ‘what if I had seen the signs of betrayal earlier and acted on it even if it was just gut instinct?’, ‘would we not be suffering and get to go home if I did x,y,z differently?’. And even if logically there was likely nothing he could have done, guilt and grief don’t always follow logic.

His survivor’s guilt must be off the charts. Like he probably not just feels like he failed in his duty and let everyone down, but the Primes are probably people he’s fought side by side with for hundreds if not thousands of cycles considering Alpha Trion mentions the war with the Quintessons has lasted thousands of cycles and Starscream has at this point in time made it to the rank of being leader of the High Guard. He probably cared about them a lot and probably even considered them friends. And the longer they are exiled and conditions get worse as time passes he probably feels like he is failing his troops too, but as leader you cannot express doubt or everyone else falters and loses hope.

I agree with you about how unprecedented everything was and how scary that would be! I also think that even if there was a war with the Quintessons and they might have been prepared that one of the Primes could die, I don’t think the High Guard ever expected that all the Primes would die at the same time leaving everyone leaderless. I don’t think there was a protocol on what to do if that happens because of how unprecedented everything is like you said. I think the entire High Guard is scared, angry, confused, hurt both physically and emotionally from the betrayal, and grieving. And I think Starscream feels the same as the rest of the High Guard, but you're the leader so you cannot break down and give up even if you really want to.

Like being a leader sucks in this situation. There’s no gain or glory from it. Any decision you make could get you or another friend/warrior killed and add another person onto your already steaming pile of guilt. If anything, being the leader is a burden. But you’re all that’s left. Someone has to be the leader and make decisions and keep everyone together. And someone has to shoulder the consequences if anyone dies in the process. Not being a leader allows you to be free of a certain degree of guilt/burden if things go wrong because it wasn’t you who made the decision and you have someone to blame if it does go wrong, but that means as leader you shoulder that burden because someone has to and in some ways so that others do not have to. It keeps the group functioning no matter how damaging that might be to yourself. You still have a duty and you have troops who are looking to you to know what to do. You’re their leader so you have to put on a brave face because what else can you do? The alternative is giving up and dying. Their situation is so bleak, especially since they’ve made the decision to not bow to or follow Sentinel.

I personally headcanon that Starscream’s personality has always been ambitious, scheming, arrogant, and a bit mean but that he also tried to keep as many people alive under him and did care about them even if he’s also got strong self preservation instincts. The High Guard are probably used to him acting a certain way and a deviation from that would probably set them all on edge or panic. They expect you to be strong, arrogant, loud, and to act like you know what to do. Familiarity brings comfort and I think Starscream was aware of this. In some ways I think Starscream’s bravado is half genuine and half playing a role that he knows the others need to see from him to stop members of the High Guard from falling into despair. Like when he talks about ‘a unified Cybertron is a myth’ sounds personal, bitter, and a cynical outlook but he immediately follows up that sentiment that the ‘only thing that matters is the strength of one bot over another’ to the crowd getting them to cheer. Like maybe I’m just being delulu and looking way too far into things, but I feel like there’s a tone shift when he says the second half like it’s a rallying cry he’s said hundreds of times to keep up morale considering the phrase that ‘a unified Cybertron being a myth’ is a very depressing thought. TFOne Starscream and the High Guard are so fascinating to me because there’s so many unsaid things and possibilities. Like for Bee to know them as legendary defenders of Iacon and for Orion to have read about them in the archives means they probably accomplished some amazing feats protecting the people of Cybertron to have their actions and names recorded down in history pre-Sentinel betrayal.

[goodqueenaly]

do you have any theories as to why Ned didn't return Willam Dustin's body to the North? Even accounting for the fact that he probably couldn't have reasonably suspected that this would lead his widow into nursing a decades long grudge against House Stark, it seems out of character for him to just leave the corpse of a cherished northern companion in Dorne

It’s important to remember the context of Willam Dustin’s death - that is, the events of the tower of joy. Net had not just experienced Willam’s own death (not to mention the deaths of his other northern companions, still less the deaths of the Kingsguard members). He had also witnessed the death of his beloved sister, while simultaneously discovering the existence of (as yet unnamed) baby Jon. Ned was dealing with a situation both personally traumatic and practically highly complicated and delicate - one in which Willam Dustin’s death, and the question of his body’s fate thereafter, was only a single part.

In this situation, I think Ned had to make hard decisions about how he was going to proceed. He had to dispose of the bodies of both his comrades at arms and the fallen Kingsguard in a way that wouldn’t arouse suspicion about the circumstances of their deaths; he had to provide for the baby nephew whose mother may have made his welfare her dying wish to her brother, and whose very existence was a potential bombshell for the rebellion he, Ned, had just helped lead to victory; he had to return his much-loved sister to her final resting place among the Starks, as she had also requested; and he had to go back to Winterfell, along the way breaking the news - or a version of the news - of the tower of joy to those families affected - not just Lady Barbrey, but also Ashara Dayne (not to mention the Glover, Cassel, Ryswell, and Wull families presumably as well).

So I think Ned decided that the best course of action with respect to Willam Dustin’s body was to bury it at the site of the now-demolished tower of joy, along with the bodies of the rest of the fallen men. As a matter of practicality, it would be much easier burying Willam and the others there than try to drag the bodies of eight men however far it would be from the relative remoteness of the tower of joy to the nearest silent sister to strip the bodies to bones (a rather specialized skill, as Barristan ruefully reflects when considering what to do with Quentyn Martell’s body in Meeteen). It was not, I think, that Ned did not care about Willam Dustin: indeed, the fact that Ned selected Willam as part of the very small party Ned compiled to accompany him on his mission to find Lyanna speaks I believe to Ned’s trust in Lord Willam’s skill and discretion. Nor do I think Ned was trying to insult Willam’s memory, the Dustins, or Lady Barbrey in this moment; after all, I don’t think Ned was trying to insult the memory of Ethan Glover; his own beloved late brother’s squire, or that of Martyn Cassel, a familiar face of Winterfell Ned had likely known from early childhood and his trips home from the Eyrie (not to mention Arthur Dayne; a knight Ned seems to have deeply respected). However, in an extremely sensitive situation, where the greatest level of secrecy had to be maintained, trying to get the five dead northerners, not to mention the three dead Kingsguard, to a silent sister or a motherhouse of silent sisters to have their bones preserved might have seemed like an excellent opportunity to raise questions about what the Lord of Winterfell and the Lord of Greywater Watch were doing with so many notable dead warriors (including Kingsguard missing from every major latter stage battle of Robert’s Rebellion), beyond the considerable practical impediments to doing so. If Ned cared most deeply about his late sister, and his promises to her, above anyone else who perished at the tower of joy - and I’m sure he did - it was also practically much easier for Ned to take the single body of Lyanna to be stripped to its bones without as much in the way of questioning, and leave his dead companions and the dead Kingsguard as fallen in battle not otherwise specified.

Of course, because Ned had to maintain strict secrecy around what truly happened at the tower of joy, there was no way to explain all of this detail to Barbrey. If Ned was willing to intimidate into silence even his own wife on a line of questioning dangerously close to the events around the tower of joy showdown, he was certainly not going to tell Barbrey the full circumstances of Willam’s death and burial. Barbrey’s feelings of grief for the man I think she loved were undoubtedly real and valid, and by extension her bitterness toward Ned for seemingly prioritizing his sister over her late husband, but Barbrey also could not know why Ned had done what he did, nor what personal cost Ned believed he bore in being unable to return the bones of any of the men who had perished in the shadow of that tower.