#in other news though i've still been sitting and reflecting on my thoughts on the finale

[dazais-guardian-angel]

flashback to the time Dazai's english voice actor made an armed detective agency joke about Kunikida's missing hands and accidentally prophesied the s5 finale........ Kaiji is simply too powerful

[idkwhatever580]

Embarrassed

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x enhanced!reader (Reader has powers like Wanda's but pink because I'm the author and I can do what I want, and my fav color is pink)

Prompt: Reader's best friend Wanda informs reader about this new thing she learned with Agatha that amped up their sex life. Reader decides to try it out with Nat, and the outcome is better than expected.

Warnings: SMUT, enchanted strap, bondage, slapping, daddy kink (daddy is not a reflection of your gender just a term I used i swear!) cumming without permission?/warning?, swearing, tmi? (Is there such thing as tmi between best friends?), teasing. Top!Reader (semi soft)

A/N: I already had this in my drafts partially finished but then I got a rq and I thought I could incorporate it into this so yeah :) thanks for the request @keirannoa420 <3 (I made reader afab but I think I made them gn for everything else I hope that isn't a problem!)

Today is a simple day for the Avengers. Almost nobody is on a mission today, so everyone is doing their own thing to decompress and rest. Especially since last week was horrible. It was just mission after mission for you and the others.

From what you know, Tony and Bruce are in their lab, Steve and Buck went on a date after visiting Peggy's grave to give her the monthly flowers, Clint went back with his family, Thor and Loki are back at Asgard until needed, Nat is reading in her library, Agatha is in a therapy session (she is still healing from her witchy trauma, good on her!), Vision is probably floating around somewhere, Peter is with Aunt May, the rest of the younger ones are out and about, while you and Wanda are catching up on a much-needed yapping session.

"Omg did you hear what happened on Sam and Tony's mission yesterday?"

You sit up being intrigued, "No, what happened?"

She giggles at the thought of what happened, and says, "He- he"

She can't even tell you what happened without bursting into laughter. "He what! Oh my gosh stop laughing and tell me what happened!"

Your need to hear what happened overpowering your patience, but Wanda eventually can control her laughs into a soft snicker every now and then, "He had to run into the building instead of his usual flying, and he ended up slipping and falling on his back and rolling around because it was raining! Sam got the whole thing recorded thanks to redwing!"

You burst into laughter at the thought of Tony slipping, this surely hurt his ego more than anything. You gasp and say, "Wait... can I see the video? Do you have it?"

She laughs and grabs her phone, "Of course I have the video! I would say I'm surprised you don't have it, but I forgot your phone broke."

You roll your eyes at the reminder of not having a phone to do your daily social media things, but Nat says you need a break from your phone. Joke's on her, you're just bothering her more. (She secretly likes it)

You're drawn away from your thoughts when Wanda holds her phone to your face, the video of Tony slipping funnier than you pictured.

(volume is not necessary for this one)

You both started laughing so hard that tears fell from your eyes, but you both eventually calmed down and were able to change the subject. "So, how's Aggie? I feel like I haven't seen her in months even though I've only been on a mission for a week."

She smiles softly and says, "She's good. Her twice-a-week therapy sessions are really impacting her in a good way. I think she might be having a bit of a hard time adjusting to the Avengers though. She still gets overwhelmed sometimes. Which is what I was scared about. I didn't want to bring her into this space after nine whole months of secretly dating just for her to regress on her progress, but I think she is getting there. Her communication skills are definitely getting better which is helping me accommodate to her needs you know?"

You smile and nod knowingly, "Yeah, I remember coming here for the first time from being a S.H.E.I.L.D. agent, it was terrifying, but my relationship with Nat only grew from where we were. Something is bound to blossom from her too. Anything else interesting with you two?"

Wanda sends me a small smirk and says, "I've been trying out new spells and tricks to cast and I happened to fall upon an interesting spell."

You raise an eyebrow with a tentative voice, "Interesting how?"

She giggles and says, "Okay, so obviously we talk about our sex lives a lot together, but this spell just made bedroom time way better. It's a spell to make an inanimate object basically a part of you. You can feel it and everything that happens to it. So, I tested this spell out on a certain strap-on that we use and let me just say I've never felt so good before. I think you should really try it on Nat, the first time I did it to Aggie, she literally cried because she felt so good."

You raise your eyebrows suggestively and say, "That is quite the interesting find Wands. I'm impressed. You'll have to show me the spell. I think I might try it out on Natty tonight if I can do it right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a few tries of this new spell with Wanda, you're able to feel everything that happens to the tv remote in your leg. You smirk at Wanda and go to exit the room just as Agatha comes back. You send your goodbyes and almost sprint to Natasha's library, making sure to stop by your room to get a certain backpack.

The joys of having your own floor with Natasha means that the things on that floor are only used by the both of you, unless otherwise provoked. So, you know nobody is going to be walking into this space. This also means that you guys can literally fuck anywhere on that floor, but you are so excited to try this spell on her.

You slow down right before you enter and you saunter in, even though Nat has her noise cancelling headphones on, so you know she won't hear you. You come up behind her and softly rest your arms on her shoulders slowly creeping down to kiss her cheek.

She pulls off her headphones and says, "Hello detka. Do you need anything?"

You simply nod your head and give her a soft kiss on the lips to distract her before carefully snatching the current book she is invested in. She lets go of it but not without a pout, "Baby, I was reading that."

You carefully set the book down after putting a bookmark in. Then you walk around and pull her headphones off her ears which makes her even more confused. Until you sit in her lap and snuggle up to her neck. She softly smiles and starts rubbing patterns on your back. "Aww baby, did you want cuddles?"

You nod your head innocently and she says, "Well I can do that while also reading my book so can I have it back?"

You shake your head, and she realizes there's something else you want. She raises an eyebrow, and skeptically says, "What else is it? Did you do something?"

You pull away from her neck and shake your head, "No, I didn't do nothin', but I'm 'bout to."

She furrows her beautiful brows in confusion but notices the glint in your eyes. She knows this look; she has seen it a million times before. How could she miss it? So, she pouts and says, "Aww is my detka a bit horny?"

You nod your head and whisper, "I want to try something new today."

She smirks and nods, always willing to try everything once, well, almost everything. "Of course, detka, what is it you were wanting to try?"

You smile and say, "You're gonna have to wait and find out."

She rolls her eyes at your antics, but you kiss her on the lips and the words that were on the tip of her tongue fade away quickly.

You both start making out softly, a tenderness infiltrates your hearts that only you two can replicate with each other. The kiss quickly turns aggressive though. Her hands falling to your hips to steady them when they start to move on their own, while yours go to her hair to softly tug on the luscious, fiery locks.

Moans start to spill out of you when your core starts to rub on her thigh, and she starts to unbutton your pants trying to get directly to the source, but you push her away. Before she can question your antics, you reach behind her lounge chair to grab the backpack and wave it in front of her face. She smiles and you both stand up to undress yourselves, not bothering to do it for the other, instead choosing efficiency.

Once she has the strap securely tightened around her hips, you push her back down and sit just before the silicon cock, butt resting on her thighs. "I need you to hold still and be quiet for a moment, okay?"

She furrows her brows and says, "Wait, what are you doing?"

You smile at her and say, "I just need you to trust me so I can work my magic." You kiss her doubts away and whisper, "I think you're going to quite like this."

You cast the spell silently and when it is done, you look in her eyes and there is nothing, but confusion written all over her face. "What did you do?"

You smirk and spit on your hand before softly rubbing the tip of the dildo making her hips jerk. "Woah."

You smirk and say, "Woah indeed. Did that feel good?"

She nods her head and says, "Seriously Y/n, what did you do to me?"

You giggle and say, "I made you be able to feel everything like it is your own."

You shimmy your body down to be eye level with the pink sparkly attachment, and you look up into her eyes with yours being doe like from this angle and you slowly take her length into your mouth.

This new sensation causing Nat to moan helplessly and thread her fingers through your hair. You softly start to play with yourself and stretch yourself out, while making sure to not give her too much stimulation. Once you deem yourself ready to take her, you pull away and Nat glares at you. "Why'd you pull away?"

You smile and kiss her worries away, "So I can do this..."

You grab the attachment and slowly slide yourself onto her. Moaning at the size. She always seems to be so big even when you take her all the time. She moans extra loud when you take her to the hilt, and suddenly her hips jerk and her eyes roll to the back of her head.

You force her to look into your eyes and then you start to bounce up and down while grinding onto her.

Although you are feeling very good, your sole intention is to make Nat feel good today. "How does it feel baby?"

She opens her mouth to say something, but only a measly gasp is heard. After a while, she finally is able to conjure a sentence, "Fuck... it feels- so good."

You smirk and say, "Yeah? You like feeling this pussy clench around you?"

She whimpers and nods her head biting her lip to stifle her sounds. Usually you wouldn't let that slide, but since it is her first time feeling this, you'll give her some grace.

You start to bounce up and down on her cock more aggressively and her hands tighten around your hips. She is completely still excepting the few involuntary thrusts her hips make, which make you moan at the spot she hits when she does this.

Nat's head is thrown back and she finally lets go of her lip, allowing all the beautiful sounds to tumble out of her throat. Her pathetic noises are so hot to you and even hotter when she tries to speak, "Y/n I- it feels, I-"

All of a sudden, her words are cut off with an almost pornographic moan, which makes you so wet because you never hear her be this vocal. Her hips start thrusting into you uncontrollably and her hands are scratching into your hips, not that you care.

You furrow your eyebrows as hers raise in surprise and embarrassment. You slow down and say, "Did you... did you just cum?"

Natasha lets out an exhausted breath and looks at anything but you, until you move her by her chin to look into your eyes. When she sees your eyes, she tears up a bit, "I'm sorry I don't know what's wrong with me! I usually last way longer than that! I wasn't even prepared for it; it just sprang up on me."

She starts to ramble, so you shut her up with a kiss and when you pull away you chuckle softly, "Natty baby, I don't know why you came so fast, but I'll bet you it has something to do with the fact that this spell makes you feel things you've never felt before huh?"

She nods her head, and you smile, "Do you want to keep going or do you want to stop?"

She frowns and says, "I want you to cum."

You smile and shake your head, "That's not what I asked darling, I asked about you."

She thinks about it, and then a nasty thought pops into her brain, and she says, "I wanna keep going."

So, you nod your head, and keep moving and grinding on her, this time she makes it about five minutes before the same thing happens.

You become beyond confused as it looks like she just came again. Once she calms down, you tentatively ask, "Did you just... again?"

Her eyes widen and her face turns redder than her hair. She tears up a bit and tries to shove you off of her to inevitably run off and hide from her embarrassment, but you push on her hips, and she moans again. She still tries to get away, so you cut her thoughts off with soft tone saying, "Darling, don't worry, it's okay if you did, you know? It is a new sensation, and it is normal to have a crazy reaction to it."

She previously covered her red face with her hands to hide, so you carefully pull her hands down and smile at her small frame. "Tasha, why are you hiding from me?"

She finally cracks and says, "Because! That was so embarrassing! I've never finished that fast! So, I am embarrassed because I didn't even get to last long enough to have fun, and don't even mention the fact that you didn't get anything out of it!"

You pout at her with fake pity, "Oh darling," You brush her already sweaty hair out of her face and clench your pussy on her strap making her moan at the feeling, "You don't have to worry about that, trust me, we are going to have fun all night. You'll be begging me to stop."

She timidly nods her head, and you say, "Is that okay?"

She nods and says, "I really want to keep going."

You smile and nod your head, but before you can start riding her again, she pulls you off of her swiftly and flips you over on your hands and knees, slipping right back into your wet cunt.

She leans over to whisper in your ear, "I'm gonna fuck this pussy so hard."

You can only moan in response because she's already thrusting deep and hard into your insides. You consider giving in to her and letting her take over, but you already made your mind up ahead of time and she is not getting in your way. So, with a flick of your wrist, she is flipped over, and ropes appear and tie themselves around her wrists.

You crawl up to her as the pink glimmers fade from your eyes, and shake your head, "Thought you could get away with it huh?"

She doesn't answer and you slap her breast making her jerk and yelp out, "I asked you a question, didn't I?"

She meekly nods her head, and you say, "Then I expect you to answer it."

She nods her head again and you say, "Don't make me ask again."

"Yes! I thought I could get away with it! Please daddy!"

You bite your lip at the power trip you're getting from this, but you make sure to soften up and check on Nat knowing she only uses 'daddy' when she's extra sensitive, "I want you to use the color system just like always, okay? Can you tell me a color?"

She doesn't even hesitate before saying, "Yes! Green, please daddy!"

A sigh falls from your lips at hearing that and you nod your head. "Okay baby, you know I'm not gonna be nice to you right?"

She whimpers and nods her head closing her eyes to center herself. You smirk and flip her over, making the dildo hit the bed when you push her hips down on the bed.

She moans out and you lean forward, your lips brushing softly over the shell of her ear, and you whisper, "Do not cum."

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head knowing she's already sensitive from previous orgasms, and she whines out, "No! Please daddy!"

You chuckle at her desperation and say, "If you're good tonight, I'll find a spell to make it so that you can cum in me too."

She shudders at the thought of being able to "breed" you and both of you feel it, so regardless of how much she already wants to cum, she nods her head and takes a breath to prepare herself.

Right before you are about to start, she yelps out, "Wait!"

You freeze in worry that she doesn't want this anymore, so you pause and look to her and let her speak. Her words come out the first time a quiet jumbled mess so you say, "What was that babe?"

She looks over her shoulder and says a little louder this time, "Can I hold a pillow?"

You think about it for a moment, and ultimately decide that if you're not going to comfort her until after, she might as well have something else to find comfort in, so you nod your head and she grabs a pillow. Once she is situated you wait for her queue and when she nods her head you begin to massage her ass a bit before pulling back and landing a harsh slap on her butt.

Natasha's hips jerk away from your hand, and in turn makes her strap rut against the bed stimulating her. She lets out a mix between a moan and a groan because she feels good, but she also knows you put limitations on her.

You continue your assault on her now red and pink ass, and the lewd sounds that are emitting from Nat's throat are making you more wet than you'd like to admit.

You slap her ass again, and she starts to uncontrollably hump the mattress, and you won't allow her to cum without asking so you grab her hips and lift them from the bed before she can stimulate herself any further. She groans and pleads, "Please. ugh please I need it!"

You simply chuckle and shake your head, "Need it so bad you're willing to give up cumming for a week?"

Her eyes widen at that threat and she whimpers knowing she might not be able to hold back since the last two came out of nowhere, but you lay her back down and say, "two more, then you can cum again."

She nods her head, crossing her fingers that she makes it, and out of nowhere the second to last slap is let out on her skin. It is way harder than all the others, so in turn, it makes Nat almost forget about what you said. Almost.

You hum and rub her ass tenderly, not letting her know when the last one is coming, and the second she whimpers again you pull back and hit her ass so hard it has her shoving her hips back into you.

She catches her breath and rolls around. You tell her to hold still as you are about to disenchant the strap, but Nat says, "Wait, baby, what are you doing?"

You furrow your brows and say, "I thought you said you were done after this orgasm?"

She nods and says, "I held it, I wanna cum with you on my cock."

Her eyes are so sweet and soft you simply can't refuse, so you let her win this time, riding her cock until the both of you come, and then you end up just laying together in a moment of tenderness.

"I love you detka."

"I love you too Natty, I'm glad you liked the surprise."

"Oh, I loved it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish @justarandomreaderxoxo @lovelyy-moonlight @symp4nat @ale-estrabao

Comment to be added to the taglist!!! I have a list of prompts coming out after this :)))

A/N: I hope y'all liked it!!! (Did you catch my Love and Death reference???) Also, I apologize for the rushed ending, I really needed to get this out.

[mischievousmoony]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟻 ⟡ 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎

⟢ james potter x fem!reader

⟢ summary: modern restaurant au; you and james complete side work at the end of your shift . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁2.1k

⟢ warnings/tags: coworker!james, coworker!marauders, anxious!reader, not rlly proofread

⟢ the new hire masterlist ⟡ main masterlist

note: dropping lore in this part ig

"I don't think this restaurant is fancy enough for this to be necessary," you huff, polishing what seems like your millionth spoon.

You're sitting at the rickety break room table, polishing silverware and rolling sets of them into cloths. James is across from you, looking at his reflection in a butter knife.

"No one who eats here is going to care if there are a few water stains on their spoons," you grumble. You're in a bit of a bad mood, this task being the only thing keeping you from going home.

"Nate wants this place to be fancier than it is. Always has," James replies, neatly arranging his knife with the other utensils on the cloth in front of him.

"Always, huh?" you wonder, "Has he always been the manager?"

"As long as I've been here."

"And how long is that?"

"Ah," James pauses in the middle of rolling his napkin, counting in his head, "Technically five years."

You stop in the middle of polishing a fork, looking up to meet James' gaze. "What? Really?" you ask.

James shrugs as if it's nothing, responding, "Started as a busser when I was seventeen. The only person who's been here longer is Remus."

You don't understand the relevance of the comparison, pointing out, "Well, he's older."

James looks at you puzzled, "Remus and I are the same age."

You put the fork down entirely, gaping at James. "Remus is twenty-two?" you ask, your tone conveying your shock.

"Yeah," James says slowly, furrowing his brows, "You didn't know that?"

"No. He looks at least a few years older."

James tilts his head side to side, pondering your comment. "Maybe a little," he admits. "That kitchen wears him down."

You look puzzled as you straighten out the fork you had dropped down on the table, thinking about the revelation that still doesn't quite add up to you.

"If he's our age how in the world is he already a head chef?"

James looks as if he's trying to recall the answer, but comes up short.

"You'd have to ask him. He was hired before me and I guess I never thought to ask that."

"He was a head chef at seventeen?" you ask, eyes widening as your shock doubles.

"No! No, he just worked in the kitchen. Think he was head chef by twenty, though."

"Oh..." you trail off, thinking that makes much more sense than your initial impression. But not by very much. "Still, wow. What about everyone else?"

James' eyebrows raise curiously as he starts polishing yet another spoon.

"What do you mean?"

"They've been here how long?" you clarify.

"Ah. Sirius started about a month after I did. Did you know he started as a server?" James shares the details like it's hot gossip.

To you, it basically is. You can't imagine Sirius doing anything besides bartending at this restaurant.

"Really?"

James smiles at the way your eyes light up in surprise and slight amusement. "Yeah," he confirms. "He absolutely hated it, but doing that he got to train with the bartender before him."

You nod understandingly. It makes sense, you suppose. Bartenders don't just appear out of thin air. You either have to work your way up the ranks or receive formal training, and if you had ever given it any thought, you would have assumed the former.

It dawns on you that you haven't given much thought to your other coworkers at all. Besides what you've naturally found out over the handful of weeks that you've worked here, you don't know much about anyone besides James.

"And the others?"

James blows out some air, thinking, and he takes two rolls of silverware and begins using them as drumsticks against the table. You smile a little at the action.

"Whenever I became a server I recommended Pete for my old busser job. That was probably four years ago."

James had told you stories about him and Peter before, but you wonder how long they've actually known each other.

"How did you know Peter?"

"Known him since primary school."

"Huh," you express your surprise quietly, and James continues on.

"The next hire was Marlene," James smirks as he recalls something. "Actually, she's the reason Lily and Mary were hired."

"Did she recommend them too?"

James chuckles, shaking his head as he explains, "No, Marlene was always complaining about too much testosterone in this place. I think five.. six months after she started, she told Nate that a customer said that they thought management must be sexist because of the lack of girl hires."

"Did someone actually say that?" you ask skeptically.

"No," James laughs, "He totally bought it though cause he hired Lily and Mary a week later. Worked out great for them in the end. You know they go to uni in the city? They’re both here to support themselves through it.”

Your bottom lip finds itself between your teeth as you think about how long everyone has worked here. They’ve all had years to get to know each other. You have already been feeling like an outsider, so learning this just amplifies that tenfold.

James puts his makeshift drumsticks away when he notices you getting lost in thought.

“What’s on your mind?”

Your eyes flash to him, startled out of your train of thought. Shrugging, you try to brush it off and return to your duties to the silverware.

“C’mon, I always know when you’re getting lost in that head of yours,” James says with a teasing yet affectionate tone.

You purse your lips, knowing the chances of James letting this go are slim.

"I just… I don't really know much about them at all I guess. Do they..." you trail off, apprehensive to admit your insecurities.

"What?" James probes gently, softening at your hesitation.

"I’m worried they don't like me,” you admit.

"What!? Why? You’re great! Why wouldn’t anyone like you?” James says it earnestly without a hint of hesitation, and that alone makes you feel a bit better.

You keep your hands busy with the silverware, your eyes focusing intently on the water stains you polish away so that you don’t have to face James as you explain.

“I feel like I haven’t made much of an effort to get to know them. I was nervous, I guess, to talk to new people. Now I’m even more nervous because it’s been so long and I haven’t even tried. They’re going to think–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” James stops you from snowballing into a self-deprecating ramble, placing a hand over yours across the table, also stopping the way you’re polishing a spoon to death.

He dips his head down to try to meet your eyes, which are trained intently on the table. “No one thinks anything,” he says patiently. “Actually, you know what I’ve heard? I’ve heard them say that you’re kind. Maybe a tad shy, but that’s not a bad thing!” The last few words tumble out in a rush, James being worried that you’d take it negatively when he really finds your timid nature so endearing.

Your gaze slowly shifts to meet his eyes. “It’s hard for me to warm up to new people,” you admit, your voice low.

James absentmindedly strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, “You got on with me just fine.”

“You’re different,” you say before you can give it much thought. You would’ve bit your tongue if you had.

“How am I different?” he asks, his eyes twinkling with something you can’t quite place.

“I-I don’t know you just are.”

It’s true, you’re not sure why but after your first day you were already comfortable with James, more than comfortable if you’re being honest. He quickly became your favorite part about this job.

He simply accepts your answer. Normally, he’d say something witty or teasing, but he finds himself at a loss for words.

The conversation fades into silence, neither of you knowing how to proceed, both overwhelmed with confusing feelings.

James can’t stop looking at where his hand rests over yours, not knowing how to retract it. Not wanting to.

Meanwhile, you search your brain for something to say, something that would change the subject. You don’t feel the need to keep talking about this anyway. Although, you’re not sure if you feel better about the situation with your other coworkers or if you’ve just been distracted from it.

“So, five years, huh?” you start.

"Technically," he emphasizes. He slowly retracts his hand as the conversation takes on a more casual tone.

You had barely even noticed his hand there with how natural it felt, but now that it’s gone your hand almost feels cold. You distract yourself by rolling more silverware.

"What does that mean?" you ask.

"I, er, pursued other things for a little while. Didn't work out, so I ended up back here."

You can’t help but wonder what he means, so you ask, "What things?"

James stammers, him now the apprehensive one.

"Sorry,” you say quickly, “I don't mean to pry."

"No, it's okay,” James waves off your worries, “I was playing rugby."

“What, like, professionally?” you ask, not expecting him to say yes.

“Er, yeah," he admits, twirling a butter knife in between his fingers.

You freeze. “Wait. Seriously?”

“Yes,” he chuckles airily.

He notices how your mouth is slightly agape, twitching as it forms the shape of words which never leave your lips. He can tell you’re wondering what happened, but you’re too polite to ask.

“I hurt my knee,” he continues, purposefully avoiding the specifics, “so ended up back here.”

Your face crumples in sympathy. "Oh. Oh, I-I'm sorry," you say, genuine compassion in your tone.

“It’s fine. I’ve come to terms with it," James says honestly. His career was brief— barely even got a chance to start— and while he'll always wonder what could've been, he's not angry about the way his life is turning out.

"So what about you? What would you be doing if you didn't work here?" James suddenly asks you.

"I never went to uni," you say, thinking of Lily and Mary— your age and likely almost done with their studies. "I would've liked to. I don't even know what for."

"You still could."

"Yeah, maybe," you say tentatively, rolling you're last set of cutlery. "That's all my side work. Want me to help with yours?"

"No, you get out of here, I'll be alright," James assures, not wanting to put extra work on your plate, recalling how annoyed you've been with this task.

You nod, standing from the table to collect your things from your locker. You bid him goodbye as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

"I'll see you tomorrow, James."

"Bye, love," he says fondly, waving with a fork in his hand as you go.

On your way out, you pass Sirius, giving him a small wave and a barely audible "goodnight" as he joins James in the break room.

"Night, doll," he calls down the hall as he turns into the room.

Sirius has a wide, knowing smirk on his face when he locks eyes with James.

"Rolling silverware?" Sirius asks, his tone dripping with his amusement.

James shrugs, "Yeah, so?"

Sirius tilts his head, chuckling, "I thought your side work was to prep garnishes today."

"Ah," James fumbles with some silverware as he responds, "I finished that ages ago. So, I offered to do Lily's side work."

"Oh, did you?" Sirius says with mock surprise.

"Yup. Just doing a favor for a friend," James grins innocently.

"Or trying to get some alone time with that work crush of yours."

"I do not have a work crush!" James quickly defends, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. He almost feels guilty, Sirius is at least right about the alone time part. James still misses having you by his side as a trainee, but after you're conversation today he feels bad about stealing you away from your other coworkers.

Sirius raises his hands in the air, "Alright, mate. Whatever you say."

"You're a prat. Why don't you come help me with this?"

Sirius looks incredulous at the suggestion, "I'm not the one who volunteered to do extra work!"

James rolls his eyes, picking up one of the many forks he has left. But truth be told, he didn't quite mind having to do the extra work— spending time with you made it well worth it.

Sirius snorts at the sudden lovesick look on James' face when he gets lost in his thoughts, and makes a mental note to wager a bet with Remus tomorrow on how long James will last.

[nnight-dances]

CHERRY-FLAVOURED

PAIRING: choi seungcheol x f!reader (ft. kwon soonyoung & kim mingyu)

GENRE: fluff, angst

TROPES: small town au!, exes to lovers, jealousy, idiots in love, fake dating (w/ soonyoung), you own a small bookstore and i never mention what seungcheol does (but just know he's rich).

RECOMMENDED: reading ADORABLY, YOURS before this, since this is the same seungcheol and i make a few references to what happened there.

"Oh, did you hear? Seungcheol's back in town!" Nayeon calls out with a lopsided smile she thinks is inconspicuous. You think it's obnoxious. 

But you don't let her know how much the news bothers you, pretending to instead by absorbed in currently trying to get your hair to sit right in a ponytail. "Sure," you reply, not breaking eye-contact with yourself in the mirror. 

Your roommate quickly catches though because she appears by your shoulder in the mirror, eyes narrowing. "Right. And you're fine with it?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" you mutter, devoting every fibre of your being to make your tone stay flat.

"I don't know, the way you've been working on this ponytail for the past fifteen minutes had me thinking otherwise," she shrugs, "And the fact that it still looks like shit from the back."

You scoff in offense, "All my baby hair makes it real hard to do this, okay!" But Nayeon's already making her way back to the kitchen to finish her breakfast with a teasing giggle and you watch her in dismay, wondering if not only your hairstyle but also your acting had really been that bad.

And as you spin around to face your reflection, you figure that the general bad-ness of your life might have something to with Seungcheol's return to town after all. Not that you would ever admit it, for many reasons. But mainly because of the fact that he's your ex-boyfriend. 

You liked to think you'd ended things with him on a good note– there hadn't been too many tears or screams and you still would catch up with him whenever you ran into him, an occurrence that was basically inevitable given how small your town was. But ever since he'd left on trip to visit his much-famed best friend, Jeonghan, you'd finally gotten around to thinking about why you were still single despite having left a long-term relationship for over a month.  

…Which led to a series of messy first dates with the few tolerable men in town who would otherwise have you cringing at the thought of talking to them. And well, actually going out with them convinced you your first impressions were always right and your intuition was all-knowing. 

– 

Meet Soonyoung, the man who would almost unmistakably come around asking for gum in your store. Your bookstore. 

You couldn't figure out if it was a honest fault of his personality or if he was doing it to annoy you– until one afternoon you found it was something much worse: he was flirting with you.

"Y/N, your hair looks cute today," he's telling you through a grin right now. You look away from the computer screen where you've been logging the new stock of books in, ready to tell him thanks and that you needed to hear that since your beloved roomate insulted you this morning. You don't get around to saying all that because you spot a figure entering the store behind Soonyoung, where he's leaning on the counter with his hands under his chin. He thinks he's slick but you know it's so he can show off his arms. 

You've forgotten all about Hoshi and his boyish charms because you notice the new customer is none other than the recent arrival to town, Seungcheol. 

You hate the way you can feel your heart skip a beat at the revelation so you quickly turn your head back to your screen. "Thanks, Soonyoung."

Thankfully, Hoshi doesn't seem to notice the stiffness of your clipped response and instead is distracted by a stack of plastic-wrapped books. 

"Wow, you sure have a lot of new stock coming in these days, huh?" 

You nod, still not looking away from the screen. "Yeah, I've been working on keep the shelves up to date with the new releases. I'm sick of people using the feedback box to curse me out for still placing the classics out front."

You hear a snort then and you immediately recognize it as not Soonyoung's. 

"You'd think that's how the feedback works, no?" 

Slowly you turn to look at him in the eyes, unsettled by the playful glint you find there. "...Can I help you?" you ask quietly, keeping your tone cordial but not too warm. Hoshi stands up straight with Seungcheol next to him, earning him a glance from the man. 

"Oh, did you finally hire a part-timer?" he asks. You consider throwing the stack of new books in your ex's face. And then you remember how much they cost. So instead, you settle on shaking your head. 

"No–" Hoshi cuts you off, though, much to your chagrin. 

"No, I'm just here giving Y/N company," he's saying and you really wish he wouldn't speak, but he goes on, "She's been pretty stressed out these days and last week–"

"Soonyoung," you look at him warningly, "do you think you could help me double-check if there's a delivery out front? I keep getting tracking updates that it's close."

"Of course!" he responds already reaching for the glass doors, "Be right back, Y/N!"

With Soonyoung gone, Seungcheol finally breaks into the guffaw you know he's been keeping in for the past five minutes. "What's that all about?"

"It's none of your business, Seungcheol," you inform him as you busy yourself with tidying up the stray pieces of gum wrapper Soonyoung had conveniently forgotten. 

"Oh, so you do remember who I am, after all?" You hate how much you like listening his voice turn slighly soft at the sound of his name on your lips. And the how your breath's a little uneven when he slides to invade your line of vision, big hands tapping at the counter to get your attention. As if you could possibly be thinking about anything else right now. 

"Why are you here, anyway?" you ask him, training your gaze on him. "Because I know, for a fact, you don't read." 

"I'm hurt, Y/N," Seungcheol gasps with a hand to his chest. His unbelievably firm chest. "And after I worked so hard to read that boring poem book for you?"

You almost seethe at the way he calls it a poem book but contain it with a grimace. "Can we get to the point here? I have a store to run, dude."

"I'm serious! I came here to find a book. Considering picking that poem book again, figure out what the big deal is for once and for all."

You stay still, unresponsive to his ridiculous excuse. Seungcheol waits a few beats, eyes locked with yours before giving in. "Fine. I was in town and wanted to see how you were doing." 

Never mind, you think you preferred to hear the ridiculous lies because the way your ex-boyfriend's gaze drops to your fists by your side has you immediately unfolding your grasp. Stupid Seungcheol and his ability to fuck up a perfectly okay daily routine. 

"Ugh," you sigh out after a moment, "Come on. I'll help you find the chapbook. But you have to promise to never call it a poem book ever again. Or I'm blacklisting you." 

You don't see it but when you spin around to march into the bookstore, expecting Seungcheol to follow you, he's all smiles, his own fists unravelling at the way your tone lost its cold somewhere along the way of this encounter. He skips behind you with a noise of excitement. 

"Okayyyy," you hum as you crouch by the poetry section, fingers expertly running through the spines of the thin books there. Seungcheol crouches by you, a little too close because his arm brushes against you, almost throwing you off-balance. 

You're about to tell him off for surprising you but he suddenly smiles, dimples so delicious in the soft glow of the light of the bookstore filtering through the bookshelves. "Your hair looks different," he comments, voice low and his gaze slowly follows the trail of your low ponytail, the thin grey band that holds the strands together clearly very worn-out. "Looks pretty." 

And where Seungcheol's wondering when you started wearing your hair up, you're incredibly flustered by his compliment. You stand up too quick, knee joints popping, and you think you must really be growing old when your vision blacks out a little. 

You steady yourself with a hand on the shelf, quietly scolding Seungcheol, "You're in the way." He joins you on his feet, making way with an exaggerated wave of his arm, not missing the way your ears are turning redder by the second.

You're gifted a good solid five minutes of peace as you inspect the shelves, wondering how you lost track of the chapbook, when Seungcheol speaks up again. "Um, so seriously, what's the deal with you and Soonyoung? You… seeing him?" 

For all his attempts at maintaining an air of nonchalance, Seungcheol can't help how irked he was when he walked into your bookstore to the sight of Soonyoung making conversation to you. Irksome especially more so because he'd heard you say that you hated having people around you while you did the boring but imperative computer-related stuff at work, something about wanting to get the misery out of the way as soon as possible. Yet, there Soonyoung had been, distracting you with all his airhead being. 

"I can't seem to locate the book right now for some reason," you start, doing nothing to ease Seungcheol's worries, "And I also can't seem to comprehend why my dating life is a point of discussion between us… anymore."

And wow, does your comment hurt. It hurts Seungcheol but also you, even as you're the one saying it because you can practically feel his mood dampening at your words. But the rational part of you is praising you for doing the right thing and setting your boundaries before you get any more carried away by your ex-boyfriend's ways. 

That afternoon Seungcheol leaves your bookstore, very empty-handed and extremely heart-broken, because as he exits, he can already hear Soonyoung asking if you wanted get lunch with him. 

– 

Speaking of lunch, enter Mingyu because eating out with someone, more often than not, meant making a trip to his humble but bustling restaurant. It was everything right with your small town: a simple menu that remained consistently mind-blowing no matter how many times you visited.

Wish you could say your friendship with Mingyu had maintained the same level of consistency as his culinary competence. 

And in your defense, you didn't know how much longer you could've gone ignoring the way Mingyu would take every opportunity to make you extra sides that you didn't order and send you specially curated handmade dinner-sets when he heard you were sick or too busy to eat. You hated it, crossing the friendzone you had so carefully placed him in, but one late night, when he showed up at your door in the rain just so he could deliver your food before it went cold, you caved and invited him in. 

So while you legally have no choice but to politely turn down Soonyoung's offer for lunch, you can't help that you find yourself walking to Mingyu's Kitchen on Saturday morning for some brunch because as much as you loved improvising with the two ingredients in your fridge, nothing beat the ramyeon he cooks. 

You're still groggy when you enter the cozy shop but the familiar scent iss already warming you up from the chilly air outside. Except you make eye-contact with the man as you step foot into the place. 

The man being Seungcheol, of course, because where you could handle fielding Mingyu's puppy eyes on you, a reminder that you hadn't texted him back yet– Seungcheol's intense glare fixed on you has you shaking in your boots. Literally. 

"...actually, I think I'll just eat here," you hear him call out as you approach the counter to place your order. Your head hurts already so you don't think too hard about Seungcheol's request to Sakura who nods with a smile. 

"Y/N!" Mingyu materializes in front of you with a beam to greet you and you think sunglasses might've been the way to go this morning. 

"Hey," you drag out the greeting, flinching at your own hoarse voice, "What's up, Gyu?"

"Nothin' much, just dealing with the usual Saturday morning rush, y'know? Maroon 5 should write a song about that instead of crying over Sunday mornings, don't you think?"

You're busy processing the tall man's chaotic train of thoughts when you hear Seungcheol laughing faintly. You glance at him, frowning when he's standing closer to you than you remember and then look back at Mingyu. "Ha, sorry it's so busy," you mumble.

"You don't sound so good. Did you catch something?" Mingyu inquires, brows furrowing and you genuinely love the man for his observance but dread its consequences nevertheless.

"Ahh, I mean, it's fine. Just a little cold from the wind," you clear your throat in an effort to sound better, "But I'll have a ramyeon for that very reason." You try to punctuate your sentence with a light-hearted chuckle but with your condition, it just kind of sounds like you're dying so you shut yourself up. 

"Feeling under the weather?" 

You look up from your phone screen, where you've been fixating all your attention so you can ignore the way Seungcheol's seated himself on the table right next to yours. This was the problem with eating out alone. The danger of your ex-boyfriend tailing you. You swear you're dragging Nayeon out after you next time, her fucked-up sleep schedule be damned. 

You shrug in response to his question, "I'm fine. Thanks for the concern."

"You're very welcome," comes his teasing reply, "But seriously, you've got to wear more layers than that if you want to make it to winter."

You look down at your long-sleeved top with a frown, "I think this attire is perfectly appropriate for the fall, actually." You tug at the sleeves so they cover your wrists as if to prove a point. 

Seungcheol raises a brow, "It would be a perfectly appropriate attire for someone who doesn't have the immune system of a rat."

Gasping, you shoot back, "Rude! I don't see why I have to stand this slander even when we're not together."

There it is. The words slip out your tongue before you have a minute to filter your thoughts and though things between you and Seungcheol are more chill than most former lovers, your sudden comment has the atmosphere turn ever so awkward, with his smile falling and your own turning sour. 

You sigh in relief when Sakura brings out a tray to Seungcheol's table that very moment, saving you just a little embarassment. "Enjoy your meal!" she smiles at him and then at you, "Your food will be out soon!" 

You nod, swallowing against your dry throat and watch as Seungcheol stares at his food wordlessly. You really had a way with words for someone who sold books for a living. Eventually, you go back to distracting yourself with your phone and he starts eating, suddenly laser-focused on his food. 

You're thankful for the space, until you see Mingyu making his way to your table with your tray in his hands. You don't know why he does that, bringing you your food despite being the head chef and owner of the place. Well, you do know why but you didn't have the energy to deal with the reasons today. 

Not with Seungcheol sitting right there, eyes on Mingyu's back as he places your food in front of you, grin intact. You're about to thank the man and hopefully, cut any conversation short but he beats you to it. 

"Here's your food, Y/N!" his voice borders on cracking but he goes on, "I made you some yuja-cha as well for your throat. And make sure you eat a lot of kimchi, okay? Let me know if you need anything else."

Slowly you nod, thanking him under your breath as he takes off and now it's your turn to stare at your food in silence while Seungcheol's shooting daggers your way. 

If he thought he was upset by your thing with Soonyoung, the way Mingyu was just all up in your space with his stupidly sweet gestures has Seungcheol… a lot more upset. 

"I thought Mingyu and you were just friends," he's voicing before he can help it. 

Your head snaps up in surprise but really, you should've seen this coming. You compose yourself, averting your eyes back to the warm food in your plate. "And I thought I made it clear that my dating life is none of your business."

"It's not my business," Seungcheol says, unconvincing to his own hears, "But it would be a problem if you were, you know, two-timing." 

Now you know Seungcheol is trying to get on your nerves because he knows how much you hate dishonesty and to accuse you of being disloyal is a low blow, really. But it works because you finally look back at him with eyes wide, "Of course I'm not. I slept with him like once!"

Where the news has Seungcheol feeling conflicted because where it was good to know that nothing was serious, it was also not fun to hear that you'd slept with him. But while he tried hard to not dwell on Mingyu's impressive physique, you were busy catching up with your own loss of control.

Because even despite your unintended confession that you hope you weren't too loud about, you quickly supply in a quiet voice, "...well, it was technically a date that led to sleeping– but it had nothing to do with Soonyoung— I don't even know why I'm telling you this!" 

You spend the rest of your brunch focusing on finishing your food and appropriately thanking Mingyu for the food, a little apologetic for many many reasons, so you can leave the same room as your ex-boyfriend faster. 

But he makes it real hard, because just as you step out of the restaurant and take a deep breath of the fresh September air to settle your nerves, you hear his voice calling you out. You stuff your hands into the pockets of your pants to brace yourself as you turn around, already starting to say something about how he needs to leave you alone and forget you said anything. 

"You left your phone behind!" he cuts you off, holding out the device for you to see. You curse under your breath, feeling incredibly ridiculous as you reach for it. 

"Thanks–"

And then he dodges your grasp, leaving you flailing around like an idiot while he looks on with an amused half-smile. Half a smile because he knows you would kill him and then yourself if he straight-out laughed at you. 

"I'll give it back if you unblock me."

Your shoulders slump and a groan leaves your lungs. "Seungcheol."

But his smile only widens because you may be glaring at him but you did just say his name. And a win is a win. 

"Seriously? You're holding my phone hostage just so you can blackmail me over something so petty? Come on!" 

"I'm sorry, do you know how many seal memes you've been missing out on since you blocked me? This is no laughing matter."

"I'm not the one laughing," you snap and then cross your arms in exasperation, "Don't be a child, dude, and just give me my phone."

"Why did you block me anyway?"

You raise your brows at him as if to say really? but he maintains his smile and you groan again. You hate him for knowing that you hadn't blocked him right after the breakup thanks to someone's insistence on thinking seal memes were funny and that the real resaon you'd blocked him was–

"–Siri kept recommending your contact every single time I would go to make a phone call! Heck, I couldn't even text Nayeon to get me a towel in the shower because the messages app would automatically redirect to you."

Seungcheol watches in awe as he connects the dots in his head and mutters, "You still had me saved as kkmua's dad?" You look away but your silence is enough of an answer. 

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the reason your phone confused Seungcheol with Nayeon because he was kkuma's dad and she was kookeu's mom– an idea a drunk you had found incredibly hilarous. The similarity in their spelling had your algorithm all fooled every time you typed in one or the other's name in a rush. Still, you wish Seungcheol was a little dumber sometimes. 

Now as you look at Seungcheol you can see he's thinking of something. Most likely considering the question: Why didn't you change it? 

"I was too lazy to change it back, okay? Blocking you was obviously the easier choice."

"I didn't say anything," he tells you with an easy smile, clearly pleased to see you flushed. "For what it's worth, you're still promising young woman in my contacts. And I didn't even have to block you."

It's probably because you've seen Seungcheol so much more than the past two months in the past two days, but you find yourself moved by his words. They're not that meaningful really, he's just bringing up a past inside joke in that reassuring tone of his. But you can't help but smile. 

"I hate you," you breathe out and in the context of the conversation, it makes enough sense. But Seungcheol's dimples deepen because in the context of your history with him, the words are a consolation. 

He only becomes certain of it later that night when he's washed up and throws himself into his sheets to find his phone lighting up in the darkness. It's you. 

promising young woman sent you a link 

promising young woman: rats actually have a great immune system so joke's on u 

And that's all it takes for Seungcheol to go back to his lovesick self, squeaking into his pillow as he reads your text over and over until he can comprehend that not only have you unblocked him of your own accord (debatable) but were also texting him first. 

– 

The next time you run into Seungcheol, it really brings his contact name to life. But before that, enter Soobin, a shy blonde who's recently moved to the town. 

"You like Lamp, huh?" 

Soobin jumps around, eyes flailing around as if you'd caught him red-handed. And you might as well have, what with how he'd been humming and swaying to the music leaking out of the speakers in your bookstore. You'd enjoyed watching the younger man visit the store more frequently the past few weeks, always in the evening hours when you would finally break open your playlists, a luxury you only allowed near closing time. 

"Ha," he nervous laughs, "Y-Yeah… Sorry, I didn't think you were still here."

"I run the place, Soobin. It'd be a bit of a problem if I just took off." You smile at his flustered sigh and move past him to shelf a book you'd taken out to review earlier. "Anyway, we're closing soon. You buying anything today or…?" 

Soobin looks at the thick book in his hands and you recognize it as a new arrival but then he flips it around, a little unsure. "Umm, I'm not– this seems cool but also scary so probably not?"

"I'll take it off your hands then?" you offer with an understanding shrug. But he shakes his head eagerly, "No, no, don't worry. I remember where I took this from. I don't want to get in your way."

"...All right," you reply after a pause. Then, brushing your hands against your pants, "Let me know if you need help, anyway." 

But Soobin's far from one to bother you as he leaves wordleslly, not without assisting you relocate some heavy boxes to the store before you lock up for the day. You're calling out goodbye after him as he takes off into the night when you hear soft barks closing in on you, 

For a beat, you freeze because the sound is excruciatingly nostalgic and you genuinely think you must've time travelled when you turn around to see Seungcheol running toward you with a very excited Kkuma leading the way. You're already dropping to a squat when the dog scurries to your feet, licking at your ankle before you get your hands on her.

You let out an undignified coo at the white ball of fur, "Kkuma, my baby. Aww, baby, you're so sweet. Look at you!" You go on for a little bit, fussing over her as she rolls over for some belly rubs before you come to and become aware of the way Seungcheol stands by, patiently watching. 

You slowly rise to your feet with an awkward smile. 

"I'm convinced she still loves you more than me," the man starts with a pout, "And it's still so unfair. Kkuma, I'm your dad. I pay for your meals and grooming, you know?"

You laugh at the way he scolds his dog in a small voice as you retort, "Maybe she's in her rebellious years. Let her be."

Seungcheol's soft gaze lands on you with a huffed chuckle. And then he looks at something behind you. "Who was that, by the way? New conquest?"

You throw your hands up in the air. "Come on, man. You can't keep doing this!"

"Doing what?"

"Snooping around in my business! And also making me sound like some kind of a player." 

Seungcheol looks down like he's reflecting. Kkuma paws at his leg with a whine and you look between them before letting out a cough.

"That was Soobin. If you must know." You look away as you say this, like it was no big deal, reporting on your customers to your ex-boyfriend because he still got all whiny when he saw you with another man. Neither of you is ready to address the meaning of your actions toward each other quite yet. So you both pretend it's normal when Seungcheol lights up a little when you speak up. 

"Soobin…? Haven't hear that name before."

"Yeah, he moved in a few weeks ago. Shy guy but very smart," you say, "And I think he wants to work part-time at the bookstore." 

"Woah," Seungcheol's ears perk up, "That's great, Y/N! You could totally use the help."

You turn to face him, arms crossed yet again, with a suspecting look on your face. "Hmm, I guess you could say that. I haven't popped the question yet though so don't go around spreading rumors." 

"Aww, you know I would never snitch on you like that! Unless he makes a move on you, of course, because that would be a very different story–"

"Seungcheol." 

Nice. That would be three points to Seungcheol if he was keeping count of how many times you'd said in his name in that grave voice of yours, indicating that you were mad but also couldn't cover up the laughter that bled into your tone anyway. And he was. 

– 

"What about you? You were gone a while."

Seungcheol counts his blessings every minute you spend with him, even if a lot of it was you pushing him away. But you couldn't stay consistent with your cold demeanour for much longer, not with him making sure he ran into you just as you closed your store. With Kkuma scurrying for love and his innocent blush whenever you greeted him, it wasn't long before you were letting your walls down. 

So it's no surprise that you find yourself curious of what he'd been upto in the month-long visit he'd paid to his best friend. 

Initially, Seungcheol's giddy ove your question, like you were on a first date all over again and not just walking along the dim grass fields like you so often did. "You know how it is with Jeonghannie. I meant to be there for a week but… one thing led to another and I was there for a while."

You fall silent, trying to imagine what it must've been like for him. "He still lives near that college, doesn't he?"

"Yeah. He's a strange fellow."

"Not that strange. College towns are like cities," you chuckle, "but with less crime and cranky people."

"I don't know, college students are pretty cranky too. Maybe even worse than the average city person." You raise a brow at Seungcheol's grimace.

"What, did Jeonghan force you to fraternize with college kids or what?"

Okay, now Seungcheol's getting a little worried when he realizes where this is going. And even though everything's in the past for him, he can't help but hesitate to tell you what exactly he'd been up to.

"...Yeah, I mean, most of his friends are college seniors. He knows them from his time there so it's pretty chill."

A few more questions from you have Seungcheol pulling out his phone to supply you with some visuals for some of the events he's mentioning and the way you softly laugh into his shoulder at the sight of the chaotic night parties has him getting a little careless. 

"Wait, wait, who was that?" you stop Seungcheol's now excited swiping with a cold hand to his forearm. He freezes, more because he realizes what you're trying to see than the temperature of your body against his. 

"Um, oh–" he watches dumbly as you go back a few photos to a selfie of him and a girl. They're grinning in the photo, teeth on display and cheeks clearly red from intoxication. 

"Ohh, is she one of his college friends? She's cute–" You interrupt your own musings over the stranger when you go back another photo in his gallery. This time it's a photo of the girl kissing Seungcheol on the cheek, his eyes closed with a shy smile. 

"That's–" Seungcheol barely opens his mouth to explain but trails off when you abruptly pull away from him. "She's– A friend… Um, goes to college in the place and she's–" He stops talking with a groan because great, all his stuttering has you side-eyeing him, no doubt recognizing the guilt swimming in his eyes.

Your voice is so small when you finally speak up, pace increasing. "That's cute," is all you say.

"Wait, Y/N, you don't understand. I know what I sound like but–"

"Just to be clear," you stop your brisk walking to hold up a hand in between you and him as if to symbolize the space there. "You don't have to explain anything to me. It's all cool, Seungcheol." 

And the way you murmur his name transports him back a couple months, a similar breezy night. One where you'd pulled him away from a group dinner with your friends and looked down at your feet the whole time but your words had pierced right through his heart anyway. Even back then, you said his name softly, without any malice, but even that might've been merciful. Because what's worse is the way you uttered his name like goodbye, sincere enough to bring tears to his eyes, even now, as he watches your forlorn back disappear into the night. 

Zero points to Seungcheol. 

– 

"Y/N, you in there?"

It takes a good minute of Nayeon repeating her questioning in increasing volume for you to finally hear her knocks over the sound of the music playing through your headphones. You frown as you uncover one ear and call out, "Nayeon? What happened?" The door to your room slowly creaks up, revealing your roommate standing there with her hands occupied, each holding up a bottle of soju invitingly.

"Wanna talk about it?" 

You're already tearing up when she asks you that and by the time you've both drunk your way through the bottles, your eyes feel numb. You interrupt your own worrying over how swollen they were bound to be tomorrow when you point a finger at Nayeon and question, "I really needed this today. How'd you know?"

She smiles, "Of course I did. You ignored my text about eating at Mingyu's Kitchen and my offer to pay. Plus, you didn't do the thing you usually do where you come in and complain about your ex."

You pout, "I'm sorry. I must be so annoying."

"You are," Nayeon shrugs, "And I like it. But you know what I would like more? If you would just make up with him already."

"No."

"Is this about that one photo of some girl kissing him on the cheek? You know how petty it is to get jealous over something like that?"

"She was seriously pretty, Nayeon!" you defend yourself, "And I'm not jealous, just– just upset because he didn't tell me earlier. I feel so stupid."

"I'm sorry, babe," she mutters, rubbing your back, "He's an idiot for not just coming clean."

"I know! Even after he went sticking his nose in my business and who I slept with while he was gone!"

You sniffle, "Maybe I should just call him and tell him to never ever talk to me again. And that he's a jerk. And that I still love him."

"Wait a second," Nayeon pulls you back onto your butt on the floor, "Maybe, let's reconsider that last part?"

You're clearly more drunk than you let on because you look genuinely confused by her interjection. "What? About me hating him?"

– 

When you drag yourself into work on Monday, you expect a lot of things. You see the headache coming, from last night's drinking and this morning's lack of hot water. You also know it's going to rain the whole day so it's only harder to put one foot after another to move. And where you also expect to pestered by a man: the desperate pleas don't come from Seungcheol like you'd secretly hoped.

"Soonyoung?"

The man, who'd been impatiently pacing by the entrance to your store, stops at the sound of your voice and spins around, nearly slipping over thanks to the wet ground. He throws the daunting hood covering his eyes with a bright smile as you run over and hastily unlock the store.

"Why're you out here in the rain?" 

Soonyoung sighs in relief once he's inside brushing his damp pants off with a quick hand. Then, he looks up with a shy expression, "Well, I… need to ask you something."

And given his past mooning over you, when he says that with a nervous laugh, you're stiffening up because you think you know where this is going. But then, Soonyoung defies your expectations for the second time yet again. 

Because where you'd expected to have to turn him down with an incompetent attempt at kindness, the next hour finds you grappling with all the information he's throwing at you.

For starters, he does ask you out. But– "It's fake. Dont worry, I'm not actually into you like that," he quickly adds with a dry laugh. 

As it turns out, he's asking you to help him make a move on a girl he only recently realized he liked. Her name's Chaewon and the only thing you know about her is that she owns a strawberry farm and can sing on ocassion. So you're easily worried by this proposition, "Soonyoung, why would you pretend to be with someone else? Shouldn't you be asking her out?" 

The boy heaves a sigh, "Y/N, I hate it to break it to you but nobody does that anymore. Keep up with the times, won't you? Jealousy is the new I like you."

"I'm pretty sure that's not true," you scoff out, refusing to let Soonyoung peg you as old-fashioned. Your stomach swims at his words anyway, ming wandering to your own… jealousy issues with a certain someone.

"Anyway, there's an open observatory night or something at her farm tonight with complementary dinner after. And I need you to come with me and make her jealous." 

"I don't like how serious you are about this," you complain, "And I don't think I want to be a part of this evil scheme."

"Please, Y/N, you're the only one I can rely on! And you're basically a celebrity around here, when it comes to dating."

You frown, finally looking away from the shelf you'd been re-ogranizing, "What do you mean?"

Soonyoung bites his lip, clearly having said something he shouldn't have. You poke at his arm urgently with a glare. He groans, giving in, "Well, it's just… your break-up with Seungcheol was the only thing anyone could talk about last month! And then the gossip only resurfaced when he came back to town."

"What kind of gossip?" you press with narrow eyes. 

"I– can't say."

"Soonyoung," you warn him, "Tell me. Or I won't pretend to be your girlfriend."

"Oh, come on! This is blackmail!"

"I thought you really wanted to be with Chaewon, no?" you question with inordinate amounts of innonence in your smile, "Makes you want to paint flowers onto the sky for her, doesn't she?"

"Fine, I'll tell you but only because this side of you is scary," the boy sighs out, "People think the reason you broke up with him was because he cheated on you. And now he's back in town so he can apologize and make up with you… or whatever." 

"That's ridiculous!" you cough out, "Who's been spewing this nonsense? I'm gonna have to–"

He holds your arm in an attempt to ground you, "Nobody really thinks it's true though! And remember how you promised to not tell a soul about a word I told you today?"

"I don't because I never said that–!"

"Seungcheol's gonna be there tonight, too, if that helps?"

Soonyoung's clearly much more devious than you last remember him being but when he explains that this could be a win-win situation for both of you– where he makes Chaewon realize her feelings for him, you also make Seungcheol jealous with your little act. 

And while you're sure to curse the him out for his assumption that you would want to get back with Seungcheol at all to begin with, the idea does leave an impression on you. Your mind's gears are working really hard, not just because you're trying to figure out a new spread for the monthly display at the front of your bookstore, but also because you keep finding loopholes in Soonyoung's grand plan.

"But is pretending to be together for one dinner really going to convince anyone? I mean, no offense, but nobody I know will believe that."

Soonyoung shrugs, "It's not just for one night. We're obviously going to do other stuff." You scrunch your nose up in disgust. "But think of tonight as the opening night. What we do tonight determines how the rest of our lives will pan out. We could end up lonely and dreadful if one of us messes up."

– 

For all of your criticism of Soonyoung's hyperbolic description of a dubious scheme, that evening finds you making double-takes in the front camera of your phone every other minute. Yep, turns out your nose was still on your face.

"Y/N, you look great," Soonyoung calls out finally, having watched you the whole ride to the venue. It was part of his plan, of course, to make things seem more official in his words. "So can you stop?"

"Are you sure you don't like me?"

As it often happens, your own question catches you more off-guard than it does Soonyoung. Your nerves have succesfully taken over your bodily functions. 

"I don't, Y/N," he responds with an easy smile, "I don't know why you keep asking me that. Do you like me or something?"

You sigh. "Sorry. It just seemed like that for a while. But I'm glad you don't, it makes things a lot easier."

"Good," he hums and then, after a beat passes, "By the way, when all of this over and both of us are hopefully happily in love with our respective partners–"

"I'm not in love with Seung–"

"And after you're done denying your feelings– Maybe we can be friends?"

You nod with a thoughtful hum, "Sure. That sounds fine. Except I thought we were already friends?"

Conversation with Soonyoung becomes a lot less tiresome when you've both established the purely platonic basis of your relationship. Which is ironic because fifteen minutes later, he's whispering in your ear to smile as he reaches for your hand. But his presence is still comforting and you find yourself wondering why you hadn't always found it this easy to be friends with him. The thought keeps you distracted momentarily and then, you lock eyes with Seungcheol. 

You were standing next to Soonyoung when it happened, hand in his as he caught up with friends and purposefully showed off his new relationship. The news was as unexpected to them as it was to you this morning and keeps conversation busy enough to allow you to be completely zoned out. And then you spot Seungcheol across the room, his eyes fixed on you in the distance and his mouth set in an intimidating line.

You look away with a cough, feeling your neck grow warmer. Soonyoung senses the change in your mood and when he asks if you're okay, you lean into his ear and complain, "Fuck, I just made eye-contact with him." 

He breaks into a grin at your indirect admission to still liking your ex. If Seungcheol knew the context to your arrangement with Soonyoung, he would find this entire exchange heart-warming, losing it over how shy you've gotten. But he doesn't know.

So in his eyes, it just looks like you've just whispered an inside joke into another man's ear and his chuckles are out of fondness. And that's why attributes your shy flush to Soonyoung's response to you, and not the eye-contact you'd made with him seconds ago.  

Seungcheol spends the rest of the night lurking. He skirts your surroundings, his eyes in disbelief every time you don't pull away from Soonyoung's hand on you. He's confused and jealous. The combination has him malfunctioning in a corner when he spots you breaking away from Soonyoung's side for the first time that evening. 

He doesn't even spare a thought to his actions when he springs forth, trailing you to the refreshments. You're trying to refill your lemonade even though you don't really have the desire to drink it anymore, mainly because Soonyoung had approached Chaewon and it seemed like his plan was working because you'd never felt so invisible in a conversation before. 

You can feel the act tiring you out though because you don't notice it when Seungcheol sneaks up to your side, breathing down your neck and staring seriously even when you spin around and almost spill your drink all over yourself in surprise. 

"S-Seungcheol!" you groan out, flustered but relieved your dress didn't have to suffer the consequences of your weakness around him. But your heart certainly did, especially when the man stepped closer, voice few octaves lower than usual.

"What are you doing with him?"

You go silent, knowing that you should feel unsettled by the absence of friendliness in his tone but only feel yourself enjoy the way he's so obvious about his jealousy. You look back at him, trying to seem innocent but immediately hate the way his eyes have reddened. "I'm… helping Soonyoung out."

Seungcheol's expression is a big question mark at that. A big angry question mark followed by an exclamation point, if you will. "...by following him around on his arm all night?" 

"Um… yeah," you look over his shoulder to make sure Soonyoung's still occupied by Chaewon and the momentary lack of attention is already pissing your ex-boyfriend even more. You hate lying but you convince yourself that right now, you're simply witholding information from someone. 

"I don't get it, Y/N," he says, "Did I lose my chance with you?"

The question catches you completely off-guard, leaving you gaping at Seungcheol. You were used to his short-temper and his incessant questions but this was new: the solemn setting of his lips and his downcast eyes as he asked you if he still stood a chance with you. He was being vulnerable, you realized, in a way that he never was during your relationship. The change is dizzying, it really is, and you can only think of all the other ways Seungcheol's been changed since he returned.

And all the ways he's stayed the same.

You swallow against the lump in your throat, "Come with me." 

You lead him to a slightly more secluded part of the observatory, a dimly lit corner that's orchestrated by more crickets and the lack of chatter is a welcome relief to your already crowded senses. "I'm not actually with Soonyoung," you breathe out, the truth weighing heavily on your tongue even though you'd only pretended for the one night, "I'm pretending to, because he asked me to." 

Seungcheol's eyes widen, "What? You're fake-dating that guy? Why?"

"He likes Chaewon," you point them out for him over his shoulder but Seungcheol only stares at your face with a serious expression. You retract your pointer with a flushed face, "And they were apparently getting nowhere, despite both liking each other. So he figured he needed some intervention."

You point to yourself this time with a half-smile and then remember the unimpressed look on Seungcheol's face. You watch his face carefully but he remains still for over a minute. 

"Well, I'm only telling you because you asked so nicely," you clear your throat, feeling a little stupid now that he's gone mute, "Do with that what you will. I'm gonna go back…"

You pat your dress down and exhale heavily, trying to steel yourself against both the disappointment and the cold night-air. You've already rejoined the noisy crowd, only a few steps away when you pick up on Seungcheol's voice. 

"--meant nothing…" is all you can pick up so you turn around to find him at an arm's length, muttering something, too low for it to be audible. You say, "What did you say?"

"I said that the photo you saw that day meant nothing. She's Jeonghan's girlfriend and I slept with her once. I also pretended to be into her but only so I could forget about you."

More than anything, you're shocked by the way he emphasizes you, the word coming out stronger than the rest of his explanation, one that does more to soothe your nerves than you realize. But you also don't know what to with this new information, because your brain can't keep up with how much more context there might be to it– Why did he sleep with her if she's with Jeonghan? And why did he look so happy in the photo if it meant nothing?

But tonight isn't about you, it's about Soonyoung and you've made a promise to him. So you tell Seungcheol, "I've gotta get back, Cheol��" the nickname slips out before you've censored yourself. Your face burns but you turn away quickly. "I- See you later."

The crowd is so close to you, just another step or two and you could be lost in the sea of half-familiar faces and probably get caught up in catching up with someone or the other. But if the crowd is close, then Seungcheol is closer to you. 

His hands are on your shoulders, warm heat invading your exposed arms pleasantly when he holds you back with that pained look of his. At this point, you're only partly grounded in your body, floating around when you hear Seungcheol's words to you. "I'm still in love with you, Y/N. Never stopped loving you, to be honest." 

That brings you back to earth with a jerk and you blink at him slowly. "I–" you start and then trail off. Then you start again, now that reality's starting to set again. "I feel the same. Obviously. I tried to move on but– ugh, I still love you." You feel Seungcheol's arm slide down to your elbows and then to find your hands, intertwining your fingers with his like he'd imagined doing ever since he got back to town.

"So we're good?" Seungcheol asks you, licking his lips with a small smile.

"Um, well, what do you mean by that because if– I mean, if we're friends–" You're trying to think of a way to state your thoughts in a self-respectful way when he leans in, lips brushing against your with a soft sigh. Your own breath hitches, especially when Seungcheol's hands come up to cup your face with a gentleness you forgot he could muster. He kisses you, sweet and soft, and when you pull away it's with a stupid grin.

He matches your grin, "Does that make things clear? We're not friends. I want to kiss your face and it would be great if you stopped pretending to date other men–"

The mention of fake-dating has you gasping loudly as you push Seungcheol away hastily, "Fuck, I'm supposed to be with–" You turn around and no doubt, everyone rushes to look away but you know the damage has been done when you hear scattered applause and whistles. The sight is heart-warming to you in a universe where you haven't just fucked up a plan. 

"I messed up big-time," you tell Seungcheol with an exasperated groan. 

The man regards you with thinly-concealed glee, "We kiss and make up but you're complaining because…?"

"Soonyoung! I was supposed to–"

Seungcheol doesn't do anything to help when he leans in to peck your lips again. You scowl at him, "What was that for?"

"Sorry, I just forgot what I was to you for a moment there, what with you going on about another man–"

"Cheol, I just confessed my love to you," you scold him but your ears turn pink, "And you're my boyfriend. So don't forget that. But right now, I need to go find my fake-boyfriend or I'll have blood on my hands–"

You're rushing to spot Soonyoung's head in the crowd when he suddenly appears, much closer than you'd anticipated, probably because he's heading right at you. You start to feel the guilt build up in your throat but then you see the grin he's sporting and the way he's skipping toward you. 

"Soonyoung," you call out, "I'm sorry–" you gesture toward Seungcheol vaguely, "I got a little caught up."

"Ahh, don't worry about it!" the boy chuckles lightly and then crosses his arms like he does when he has something to tell you, "I'm– The plan worked!"

"What?! It did? But I thought–?"

"Yeah, well, one part of the plan was to get you and Seungcheol together?" Soonyoung reminds you with a sly smile. You feel Seungcheol's arm around you as he pipes up, "It was???" You ignore how excited he sounds and narrow your eyes at Soonyoung, "Okay, but we clearly just ruined the whole act! What about–"

"Chaewon got jealous. And then when we spotted you and Seungcheol kissing, she was about to be really mad at you but I explained things to her… and then, she was mad at me but then… um, well, we, you know, kissed it out."

"Soonyoung!" you exclaim, clapping your hands together in relief, "That's great! We don't have to date anymore!" 

Soonyoung laughs at your phrasing but you're busy being wooed by the smitten smile on Seungcheol's face when squeezes your hand, muttering, "You all mine now?" 

– 

Cue star-gazing with Seungcheol. 

It was his idea, one he'd suggested out loud to you over the dinner that was also his idea, the candle between you flickering with your breathless agreement. You were in love with Seungcheol like you'd been for as long as you remember. The break-up, creeping up into your mind thanks to a combination of a lull in your relationship with him and doubts of whether there might be someone else for both of you, seemed like a faraway event already when you resumed your life with him.

"The stars are pretty, aren't they?"

You hum in agreement to Seungcheol, fiddling with his fingers. His laughter bleeds into your body, "You're not even looking up at the sky, baby."

You shift to lay down next to him. "I was!" you defend, "But then I got scared. The stars just make me feel so insignificant. And temporary." Your voice breaks a little, "I don't want temporary."

Seungcheol wraps around you, bringing your face up to his and watching you blink the tears out of yours. "Oh, doll, you're so precious," he huffs out, running a thumb under your eyes, "I love you. Fuck being temporary, okay? I'm going to be with you forever."

"You can't guarantee that though," you mumble out.

"I know I can't. Because I could die before you or like be abducted by the aliens when they inevitably come colonize us. We all know I'd be their first pick."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Y/N, we're still together, even after we broke up," he kisses your cheek to emphasize your togetherness, "We're in love, despite it all. And that seems solid enough to me, you know? The scariest part of going into a relationship is the possibility of separating. But if we've done it before, how bad can it be?"

"What if we break up again?"

"Then we'll figure something out," Seungcheol says, "I know we will. It might not be the same as always but I promise I'll always be a part of your life for as long as I can." 

You sniffle into his shoulder, "I love you. Can you please beg the aliens to take me with you?" 

Seungcheol's laughter resounds through you yet again, a hand brushing your hair lovingly. You were finally wearing your hair down again, and it might've something to do with the way he would find a way to slip the hairtie out of its place. It sits around his wrist now, worn-out but incredibly dear to him. 

"Of course, love, anything for you." 

–  

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

the seungcheol brainrot never stops <3 i hope i've done this seungcheol justice, given what he went through in jeonghan's fic lol... anyway, i'm thinking of writing another part where jeongcheol catch up or something?? may be an interesting collision of worlds... we'll see.

[bellabrady]

Why many people dislike Tommy Kinard

Listen, I don't like to try and dictate what characters others can like. However, I do find it concerning how quick so many people are to forgive a bigot who didn't even get a proper redemption. So, especially for those who simply don't really remember Tommy, here's a quick recap of him:

Let's start with Chimney Begins. Tommy is one of the firefighters at the 118 when Chimney becomes part of the team. The first thing Tommy says when Chim arrives is 'Hey Eli, did you forget to tip the delivery guy?' On its own, this isn't really bad, because it could very much just be a harmless joke. But in combination with Tommy's behavior throughout the rest of the episode, one could argue the comment has racist undertones. But this one's up to interpretation so let's move on.

Although not explicitly stated, it's very obvious the 118 captain is racist which is reflected in the way he treats him: he only lets him do annoying chores, is a jerk towards him, actively isolates him, and so on.

The rest of the team, including Tommy, does nothing to try and change this. In fact, they actively take part in isolating him too, for example by letting him sit by himself at a tiny table instead of the group table while they eat. Even when Chimney attempts to talk to them, everyone but Eli (the paramedic who ends up training Chim) blatantly ignores him.

One time, Chim and Tommy are alone in the locker room and Chim says: "Hey man, let's build a bridge here." Tommy doesn't even react. Chim keeps making suggestions of things they could talk about, like movies or sports, to which Tommy still doesn't react except by rolling his eyes. Chim then asks: "You just really don't like me much, do you?" and Tommy responds: "If I thought about you at all, honestly, I probably wouldn't."

Mind you, he doesn't even know Chimney and yet he's pretty sure he wouldn't like him. What exactly is he basing that on? Race, perhaps? (Tommy is very close to some other guys on the team by the way.)

Eli tells Chim that the treatment isn't personal and that the reason everyone is so distant is because in this job, friends die and that the team isn't just gonna give Chim their friendship until they earn his respect. "You don't name a puppy until you know it's gonna pull through."

In my opinion this is absolute bullshit though. You cannot tell me every single probie at the 118 has been treated this way for weeks (maybe months? I don't remember exactly). Also, keeping someone at a distance doesn't mean you have to treat them like literal dirt. It's also worth mentioning that once the captain, Tommy and his best friend leave the 118, no probie seems to ever be treated this way again. So if it's about the nature of the job, why wasn't it like this for everyone? So, despite what Eli said, I think Chim's treatment was definitely caused by racism.

Eventually, Chimney is finally allowed out on calls and risks his life to save Tommy's, which basically makes Tommy go: "Oh hey! Maybe I could treat this guy like a human being?" He thanks him for saving his life and from this point on they're friends. I don't know about you guys, but personally I think someone who doesn't see it fit to treat you like a person until you save their life doesn't seem like a very great guy.

Let's move on to Hen Begins. The 118 is still under the same captain, who is also a misogynist. Unlike the racism, this isn't only implied but confirmed.

I've seen people argue that Tommy can't be blamed for not standing up to his captain because that's his boss. And yet, when the captain says "This is our new diversity hire" about Hen, Chimney says, "You know, Cap, there's another way to say that," which immediately proves that Tommy could stand up to him as well, and simply doesn't have the guts.

They treat Hen similarly to the way they treated Chim. Tommy, along with everyone else but Chim, for example throws some gear on the ground before Hen's feet so she takes care of it, not saying so much as a single word to her in the process.

Chim tries to make conversation with Hen and says "I would've bet money that you were from the east coast, you just kinda have that vibe." Hen laughs and says "Thank you for the compliment?" to which Tommy replies: "New York bitchiness is a compliment?"

He doesn't even know Hen and she's done nothing that could be seen as 'bitchy.' Just some good ol' fashioned misogyny. Chim also recognizes that comment for what it is immediately because he goes "woah, woah, nobody said anything like that, come on." Tommy only huffs in annoyance as a response.

The captain then goes on a rant about how training female firefighters is a waste of money and Chim once again stands up for Hen, unlike everybody else, including Tommy, who just lets the misogyny stand.

It isn't until Hen rescues someone on a call that Tommy and his friend admit they wouldn't have found in time, that they finally treat her like a person. You'd think they'd have learned from Chimney that maybe people shouldn't need to prove themselves to you in order for you to treat them like a human being, but apparently not.

Ultimately, the team submits complaints against the captain and supports Hen but if you ask me, this should've happened a lot sooner and not only after they deemed her worthy.

And that's pretty much all we see of Tommy, except for some short scenes in Bobby Begins Again in which he just interacts with his team until he leaves for a different station at the end of the episode. There's no redemption, no proper apology and, if you ask me, considering the fact that he treated Hen the same as Chim, there's also no development.

And yet there are people who will defend this man with their lives as if 90% of his screentime wasn't him being a bigot or at best a coward without the guts to stand up to his bigoted captain.

So yes, personally I think liking Tommy Kinard is weird.

[galedekarios]

what was i after all but a mortal plaything in sacred hands?

out of all the little glimpses into our companions' lives after the game events, i think i like this bit about shadowheart and gale, and the friendship they've seemingly retained after the game's events, the most:

Player: Tell me what you've been up to. Shadowheart: Wandering, mostly. The adventuring life is almost a tonic when you're not constantly threatened by brain monsters and cultists. I can finally see the world beyond the Cloister. Player: I thought you might crave a little peace and quiet, after all that happened. Shadowheart: Peace and quiet will still be there waiting once I've lived a little. Though don't get me wrong - I've got a little cottage with a garden and animals in mind already. Shadowheart: One of my first stops was the House of the Moon, in Waterdeep. It's the largest temple of Selûne in existence. Shadowheart: It seemed like the perfect spot to reflect on my parents, on where they came from - and where I came from too, I suppose. Shadowheart: Hard to imagine, isn't it? Me, of all people, in the lair of the 'Moon Witch' herself. Gods, your truest act of heroism was putting up with all that Sharran drivel I was spouting for so long. Player: Waterdeep you say? Did you bump into Gale? Shadowheart: We had tea on his balcony - Tara even deigned to sit on my lap for a while. You know, I think entire forests must have been felled to quench that man's thirst for books. Shadowheart: He seems to be doing well. In his element.

it's one of the few (if not the only) instance we have of companions keeping in touch with each other after the game ends and i love this for both for shadowheart and for gale.

both of their stories remind me of gale's early access line "what was i after all but a mortal plaything in sacred hands?" and i think they can understand and emphasise what the other went through before and during the game's events in ways the others simply cannot with the added layer of their abuser being a deity and their patron deity.

one taken from her family as a child, indoctrinated, weaponised and isolated, trying to take everything from her, but unable to erase the goodness of her heart. the other contacted by a god's chosen as a child, the very thing he loved for as long as he remembers governed and represented by her, the goddes who was first a mentor, then a teacher and finally a lover.

Shadowheart: Poor Gale. I hope he knows that a goddess abandoning him needn't be the end - I know from experience.

Gale: Poor Shadowheart. The gods are nothing if not vincdictive in their vengeance. devnote: Sympathetic - Gale feels the gods have also punished him

the idea of them helping each other, supporting each other to take another step towards healing old and new wounds through their shared understanding, is something i like a lot.

on a lighter note:

we know that gale values those he calls friends immensely and shadowheart does, despite her aloofness, crave connection, (re-)discovering who she is and what makes her her.

i like to imagine them sharing not only tea, but a glass of wine:

Gale: Sembian wine, Cormyrian ball, Waterdhavian conversation. It's the little things you miss while on the road. - Shadowheart: So Gale just consumes magical items like I do wine?

perhaps sharing the latest chapbook with her since he likely overheard wyll and shadowheart talking about 'the salty mermaid':

A chapbook was a short book which could contain about any content, from political opinions to crafting guides. In Waterdeep, chapbooks often contained memoirs or romantic stories. [x]

(thank you for reading my gale + shadowheart friendship propaganda post! 🖤)

[lostreverb]

things never change (pt. 2)

(post-prison!warren lipka x fem!reader) in where you cross paths with an old friend

content: angst, some fluff? maybe?

a/n: this was really fun to write in the most awful way my heart is sobbing. but i've always wanted to write a post-prison!warren fic so.. yay?

part 2 requested by @tracysent!

(here's part 1 if you haven't read)

--

when warren had left your unconscious body on the couch he returned to ghosting you. you thought you'd never see him again, until about a year later when your mom called you and told you to put on the news. "4 college students arrested for attempted robbery at transylvania university" was the headline. the story dominated local channels for weeks.

ultimately, your father never pressed charges against warren for stealing his painting. the monet remained exactly where it had been, still the centerpiece of the room—though now sporting a few dings and dents on the frame. nothing you couldn't replace without him noticing.

when your father heard the news, he practically jumped for joy.

"i told you that boy was nothing but trouble!" he exclaimed, his hands planted firmly on his hips as the screen showed four figures in orange jumpsuits walking out of the courthouse. "i'm glad he got out of your life when he did. couldn't imagine what it would've been like if, god forbid, he had gotten you wrapped up in something like this."

warren had already broken your heart twice. this time, he completely shattered your sense of self. did he ever care about you? had he only gotten close because you were well-off? or was it that the painting on the wall, the dream of quick riches, was just so much more enticing and valuable to him than you were?

you had talked to him about it before... dreams. warren fantasized about a life, outside of kentucky, maybe starting on a yacht in the bahamas and then traveling the world. it seemed so outlandish from the empty parking lot you were sharing a joint in, but you admired his ambition. to think you would've followed that idiot anywhere he went. hell and back. anything he would do, anything he went through, you would've been by his side. but now the reality was clear: your relationship was a one-way street that went miles on.

even though that night he had told you that he missed you, that he loved you while you lay underneath him. it was all just a mental diversion. a way to keep you docile while he served the only person he loved: himself.

it took years to put yourself back together, to trust again, to believe that someone could love you without an ulterior motive.

then that near decade of work— therapy, long conversations with friends, countless nights of self-reflection— was put to the test in one moment.

"..y/n?"

you looked up from your laptop, startled. there, standing before you in a philadelphia café, was none other than warren lipka. his long hair, once wild and untamed, was now brushed back, though a few loose waves still escaped from behind his ears, giving him that same effortlessly disheveled look you had once found so endearing. he had grown a short beard, the kind that hinted at maturity but still carried a touch of the boyish charm you remembered. despite the years that had passed, his face was almost exactly as you remembered—those sharp, familiar features that had once been the center of your world.

especially that damn smile of his.

"mind if i sit?"

you nodded, motioning to the chair across from you. part of you wondered if you were hallucinating. after all, with work, you hadn't been getting much sleep lately.

"i almost didn't come over, you know—didn't think it was you," he admitted, taking a seat. "but you know what tipped me off? that necklace."

you looked down at the delicate silver necklace, the one your grandmother had given you on your 16th birthday. the pendant, a small locket engraved with intricate floral designs, had once been her most cherished possession. when she placed it around your neck, she had told you stories of her youth, of love lost and found, of the strength she had needed to build a life on her own. she had smiled at you, her eyes filled with pride and warmth, and said, "this is yours now. a reminder that you're never truly alone, no matter where life takes you."

after she passed, the necklace became more than just a piece of jewelry. it was a tangible connection to her, to her wisdom and her love, something that kept you grounded when the world felt too overwhelming. you took a vow to never take it off for any reason, except to clean it. to you, it was as much a part of you as your own heartbeat.

you had shared this with warren one night, during one of your midnight dates. about your grandmother, about the promise you’d made to yourself regarding the necklace. it wasn’t a story you shared with many people, and when you spoke, you did so almost absentmindedly, not expecting him to truly listen. but he did.

"when did you…?" you started to ask, unsure how to finish. no one had told you warren had been released.

"almost three years ago," he replied, looking down at the table. "did seven years and some change."

"wow…" the word slipped out before you could stop it. warren, who had valued his youth so much and feared wasting his life away, had lost the entirety of his 20's just like that. the fact that he had come out on the other side seemingly unscathed was astounding.

as the conversation continued, you found yourself slipping back into an easy rhythm with warren, the years of distance and pain seeming to fade with each exchange. he told you about how he had decided to go back to school for filmmaking. it was a surprise, but also somehow made perfect sense. warren had always been drawn to storytelling, whether it was through his wild, grandiose dreams of the future or the way he could captivate an entire room with a well-spun tale.

“it’s funny,” he said, leaning back in his chair, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up his eyes. “after everything, i realized i wanted to create something that actually mattered. something that could make people feel, you know? i guess sitting in a cell for years gives you a lot of time to think about what you really want to do with your life.”

you nodded, genuinely impressed by his determination. “filmmaking suits you, warren. i can see you doing great things with it.”

“thanks, it’s been a journey, but i’m excited to see where it leads.”

when the conversation shifted to your career, warren listened intently as you shared how you had built a successful career in business consulting. you explained how you had worked your way up, navigating the corporate world with determination and a relentless drive to succeed. you spoke of the challenges you faced, the late nights, the difficult decisions, and the satisfaction of seeing your efforts pay off. it wasn't quite what you imagined for yourself all those years ago but you were happy with what you had.

“yeah, i could tell you were a big shot,” warren grinned. “there was never a doubt in my mind that you wouldn’t be.��

“thanks…” you replied, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

there was a brief pause, and you noticed warren’s expression shift to an almost hesitant look. he leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking onto yours in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

“can i say something?” he asked, his voice softening with a sincerity that was almost disarming. “might be crossing a line, but i have to say it… you look just as fucking beautiful as the last time i saw you.”

the world stood still, frozen, as you processed his words. you felt your breath catch, your pulse quicken as you searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was a raw honesty that left you momentarily speechless.

“warren…” the way he was looking at you, as if no time had passed at all, threw you for a loop.

"i know, i know," he chuckled, looking down as he fiddled with a sugar packet. "don't want to get myself in trouble with your husband—or wife… whatever…"

"i'm… actually single…"

warren stopped fiddling with the sugar packet and looked up at you, his gaze steady. he didn't move his head, just stared at you for a long moment before shifting in his chair, his eyes drifting off to the young couple seated nearby. you had noticed them too when you first walked in.

"make sense kinda... you're genuinely too good for anybody, anyway. deserve way better than what most people have to offer.."

a heavy silence settled between you and the sounds of the bustling café faded into the background, except for the laughter of the couple nearby. their easy, carefree joy was a stark contrast to the weight of the moment you were sharing with warren. each second of silence felt like an eternity, amplifying the pain and confusion swirling inside you.

finally, warren broke the silence. "i’m sorry—and i know that when i say that word, you have no reason to believe me—but i am. it haunts me, the things i've done… leaving you there…" you could see the struggle in his eyes, the guilt that had clearly been gnawing at him for years.

you wanted to brush it off, to protect yourself from the flood of emotions that his words were stirring up. "that was 10 years ago," you replied quickly. "no need to bring it up."

warren shook his head, not ready to let it go. "i just wanted you to know that i loved you...i tried to convince myself that i didn’t… that what we had wasn’t real. i hadn’t even planned on seeing you again until i got desperate for cash and wanted to skip town. my biggest mistake was leaving your bed that night."

his words hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over the walls you had so carefully built around your heart. tears began welling up in your eyes, the sting of emotions you thought you had buried long ago. you turned your head, looking away, desperately trying to compose yourself, to regain the control that was slipping through your fingers.

but then, warren's hands gently clasped around yours. the warmth of his touch was both familiar and jarring, sending a shiver through you. you had thought you were over this—over him. you had convinced yourself that seeing him again would be nothing more than a footnote in your life, a chance to hear him out and move on, finally closing that chapter for good.

but all those preparations, all the mental rehearsals of how you would remain composed, indifferent even, had crumbled the moment he smiled at you. that damn smile, the one that had always been able to disarm you, to make you forget all the reasons you should be guarded.

as he held your hands, you could feel the sincerity in his grip, the way his fingers tightened slightly, as if he was afraid to let go, afraid that you might slip away again. the flood of memories, the good and the bad, rushed back, and the tears that had been threatening to spill finally broke free. you blinked rapidly, trying to push them back. you didn’t want him to see you like this, to know just how much he still affected you.

warren’s gaze softened as he watched you, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “but i need you to know that i never stopped thinking about you. even when i tried to convince myself that it was over, that we were done… i couldn’t let go. i still can’t.”

part of you wanted to pull away. but another part, the part that had loved him so fiercely all those years ago, wanted to hold on, to see if maybe, just maybe, there was still something left to salvage.

"i don't know if i can do this again... i- i hear you... i believe you it's just-"

“i understand,” he said quietly. “and i don’t expect you to just forgive me, or even give me a second chance. i’ve made too many mistakes for that. but… i want to try. i want to make things right. even if that means starting over, from scratch, just as friends.”

“friends,” you repeated, testing the word on your tongue. it felt strange, almost foreign, to think of warren as anything other than the boy who had broken your heart. but maybe, just maybe, this could be a new beginning—a way to heal, to move forward without being shackled by the past. "i'd like that"

"me too."

[captainjamster]

Price x Reader - Training and Punishment

Pairing(s): John Price x Reader Warnings: NSFW, blowjob, face-fucking, authority imbalance, choking, Y/N is used once, light dom/sub, reader is short and a bit of a brat, also not so subtle ghost/soap if you squint Wordcount: 6.4k Summary: Captain Price is a man that prides himself on his strong sense of justice and sensibility - so he knows that stupid feelings for his inferiors are the last thing he should be having. Yet thoughts of a new Second Lieutenant plague his mind after an off-hand comment, and when he sees the opportunity for an intimate scolding, he quickly finds it incredibly hard to walk the line between his desires and maintaining professionalism. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: I've been meaning to post this on Tumblr for a while, but I've been holding onto it so I can post it when I'm struggling to write/upload - aka right now :p

This was the first COD fanfic I ever wrote and uploaded, and I think it's one of my most popular so I'm proud lol

Full fic is under the cut <3

John Price is a good man.

At least, he thinks that he is for the kind of man that the world has made Price to be.

But lately, devilish temptation has been weighing on his shoulders in an unfamiliar way.

"Good morning, Captain."

Your eyes glance over him in a flash that he hopes he doesn’t imagine as you settle in your chair. Price doesn't care for formal seating positions in these meetings, but as you take your seat just two across from his, he can't tell whether he appreciates that decision or not.

The scent of your shampoo and fresh soap tickles his nose and he takes a sharp breath in, lustful images flooding into his mind like they were just waiting for an excuse. But like the hardened, controlled man Price tells himself that he is, he's shaking away the thoughts before they can go any further.

"Good morning, Second Lieutenant."

For a second he isn't sure whether you appreciated his reflection of rank in his greeting, but as he sees the corners of your lips quirk, a delighted warmth builds in his stomach. Before he can find anything else to say, Ghost pushes through the doorway, nodding at Price. Price doesn't even have to raise an eyebrow before Ghost speaks gruffly. "Takin' a piss. Said he'd be quick."

The large man seats himself at the opposite side of the round table and to anyone else it would seem like a calculated move to make distance, but as you pour over your morning notes, Price notices how Ghost shifts his foot to push the chair next to him out in expectation.

The files are still warm in his folder as Price opens it, spreading out training schedules, operation plans, tactical maps and other notes to go over. Ghost's absence of a folder is displeasing to Price, but equally unsurprising. As he shifts through the folder and passes two pieces of paper to Ghost, he's grateful that at least Ghost gets his paperwork done, compared to another one of his Lieutenants.

Like that Lieutenant was summoned by Price's thought, Soap can be heard from the corridor before he even enters the room, trailing behind Gaz as he babbles about something. His demeanour is too bright for such an early morning start, but at least he looks much more awake than Gaz, who is nursing a steaming cup of coffee between his hands, strong enough for Price to smell immediately.

"Mornin' Cap'!"

"Captain."

Soap takes the pushed-out seat next to Ghost, and as Gaz follows suit, Price is relieved to see they've managed to bring their folders; despite how he cringes at the torn, dog-eared edges. Ghost hands Soap the second paper as Price slides another to Gaz across the table.

Two other second lieutenants make their way through the door. They move to sit next to you, finding companionship amongst the shared rank, though Price notices one falter as they observe your proximity to him. It was a brazen move to seat yourself so close to the captain. He likes your boldness, respectful but confident. As a couple others filter in and take their seats, Price begins the meeting. It's a standard monthly meeting, something Price has done so many times he doesn't even need to think, but today he feels nervous. It would make him a poor excuse for a captain if he let it slip him up, so he powers through the unrest in his stomach each time his eyes catch yours.

He tries to keep his eyes off you during the meeting, tearing his eyes away each time he glances at you. When you stand to speak, he almost feels relieved to have a reason to look at you while you address the table. Price doesn't know why he finds himself so distracted by you during the meeting, or why he wants there to be something behind the way your eyes linger on him.

When he dismisses the meeting, his shoulders release a tension he didn't know he was holding. Another effect of your presence, he thinks, and this realisation sparks something impulsive within him. He watches as everyone moves to the door, eyeing you lagging behind as you shuffle your notes, a pace behind your companions.

"(Y/N)."

Your name is out of his mouth before he realises it and you pause in your step, turning to look at him. "I..." Price falters, wracking his brain for something. "You spoke well in the meeting." He nods stiffly and manages a smile, kicking himself for speaking in the first place.

"- no way the Lieutenant worked for it; I'm telling you the bitch sucked someone off."

Confusion furrows your brow for a moment, but you look pleased as you smile, nodding back in thanks as you continue out the door. Price sinks back down into his chair, pulling a cigar and lighter from a pocket on his pants and sparking it. Off the field, he tries to limit himself to just a morning and afternoon smoke – not that he’s happy about it. He takes a long, slow drag as he eyes the "no smoking indoors" sign, neatly paired with the smoke detector that seems to be blinking at him disapprovingly. Next to fucking his inferior officer so hard they couldn't walk for days, smoking indoors seemed like a minor rule to break.

----------

It had started weeks ago, after a bitter comment he half-heard from some rookies in the common room after an exhausting session, designed during the previous monthly meeting and run under your command.

Their backs were turned to Price as they sat at the table, unaware he stood a distance behind them – seeing the captain occupying such spaces was rare, his work keeping him cooped in his office, and it was only checking the supplies that needed to be replenished that had brought him here.

"The Captain is too old to fuck with her, I'd bet Lieutenant McTavish. She serves under him anyway, yeah?"

The other rookie scoffed. "I bet she serves under him alright."

Price decided he’d heard enough and cleared his throat, turning around and stepping over. The soldiers bolted up, standing to attention.

There was no need for you to hear this, he mused, especially when he could handle it himself.

"Finished with training, boys?" They respond with a “yes sir” in unison, and Price saw the hope in their eyes that he missed their conversation.

"Not if you have breath to talk like that. Do it again, whole thing."

A cruel punishment when an office discussion would have served, motivated by the flush of anger he felt in the moment at the suggestion his officers would be so easily corrupted. But as he laid in bed that night, their words echoed through his mind. Sleeping with you? He could genuinely say he had never thought of that before; the battlefield keeps his mind hostage, no space for fleeting fantasies. He was a good captain and respected his inferiors, perhaps beyond what other captains would deem as wise. He wasn't going to fantasise about you because you were a human with breasts and a vagina.

But then he thinks about your first meeting with the team, remembers shaking your hand, the firm grip warming his palm as you beamed at him. Your hands were soft in his, barely weathered despite your time in the field. Soap was delighted at being the only Lieutenant assigned a Second Lieutenant that had to be transferred in, despite Price's insistence that it was a purely random decision to implement someone trained in new combat drills. You were equally as smile-y as the Scot behind you, and Price thought if your smile was any brighter it would hurt his eyes.

Your hands and that beautiful mouth. He wonders if all of you is soft, how your work has left you scarred, what else is hidden underneath that tight-fitting uniform and heavy gear. How it would feel to run his hand up your arm, pull him against you under the sheets, his fingers wet with your spit as your tongue runs over them, keeping those pretty eyes locked with his as he’s pushing right up against there –

He shoves his face against the pillow until his lungs ache for oxygen, only pulling back for a gulp of air when he feels the burning in his lower stomach dissipate. These were just silly thoughts the rookies planted in his mind, and his tired brain indulging in primal nonsense. There was nothing deeper, certainly nothing regarding you. You were a good recruit and he liked that; he’s just looking out for you, right?

I would’ve reprimanded any junior talking about their lieutenant that way – nothing more.

For a second he falters, dragging his step as his brain works to compute the next best option; does he wave? Pretend he doesn’t see you, lost in thought? Smile and hope you don’t want to stop for a conversation, busy with work?

A small spark of rage reignites within him as he thinks of the comments, rolling himself onto his side with a huff. And as he falls asleep, the captain tried to ignore the quiet voice asking him whether he feels angry at the idea of his Lieutenants being tempted, or if it was the temptation being you.

----------

The next time he bumps into you is the evening a few days after the meeting, when dinner has finished, and most are retiring to their rooms. There's an unmanageable amount of folders in your arms as you hurry down the halls.

“Lose another bet with Soap?”

It wasn't that he was hoping to avoid you, but your presence makes him feel stupid, unassertive as he fumbles uncharacteristically through sentences. The next morning after his encounter with the rookies, he burnt himself pouring water into his mug when you walked in, and soon Price realised he stumbled every time he noticed your presence. The latest meeting affirmed what Price had been trying to deny; not only did you stir something within him, the times you look at him make him hope you feel something back.

Your eyes automatically flicker to him as each footstep brings you closer, a smile growing on your face when you recognise him, accompanied by a respectful nod. He could just nod back and keep on walking. Yet despite all his hesitancy, he finds himself to be the first one opening his mouth.

You let out a laugh this time, better than the small smile he got before and after the meeting. He can’t help the way that a smile tugs at his lips from just hearing the melody. The papers rustle as you readjust your slipping grip to stop and talk, and he prays that you don’t notice his lingering look at the way the folders pressed against your chest.

“Let me help you, soldier.”

From the apprehension that flashes across your face, he can predict your rejection before it leaves your mouth, cutting you off.

“You think a captain doesn’t do paperwork too? C’mon. You’ll save me from doing more when you drop those folders and lose something important; missing file reports are a bloody bastard to get done.”

To his relief, the smile returns and blooms into a grin.

“When you put it that way sir, I can’t refuse.”

You struggle to keep everything organised as you separate the piles, and Price instinctively swoops his arms underneath yours to catch any strays that might fall. The move pulls him closer to you, and he hates how he can feel his heart beating faster in his chest. Mumbling a thanks, you manage to divide the stack and hold out a half. Price grabs them, ignoring the way his fingers brush over yours as they hold the stack steady. The pile he takes is heavier than it looks, and he’s surprised you were carrying double the weight without more strain. They’re warm from your grip and he ignores the terribly childish thought about how this is some kind of indirect hug.

“Gettin’ in some extra weight training lugging this around, son. Got a strong set of arms on you.”

He needs to stop complimenting you during every goddamn interaction.

“Thank you sir, guess it’s assurance our training works well. It’s just to my office; you won’t have to carry them for long.”

He hums in approval, letting silence fall between you as he keeps a slow pace, listening to your footsteps fall in tandem. The hallways are empty, and a selfish part of him hopes they stay that way as he basks in your presence.

“It wasn’t a bet, by the way.”

“Sorry?”

“The paperwork, sir, it wasn’t a bet. It was actually really funny – we had some time to kill after training, and Lieutenant Riley and Lieutenant McTavish thought they would try and give me some lessons on hand-to-hand combat.”

“Based on your evaluation feedback, eh? Good lad, working for improvement.”

His approval seems to bring a warm flush to your cheeks that he can just catch in the poor barrack lighting, and suddenly he’s not sure he wants to stop complimenting you.

“Yes sir, thank you sir. L.T. McTavish promised me some lessons and it was convenient that Lieutenant Riley was there too.”

“What was so funny about training, then?”

He can see the door to your office come into view as you turn the corner, and his weary arms feel a little grateful it isn’t much further.

“Oh, it wasn’t the training, sir! They decided to show me some basic combat, and when we’d played around with that, we got to using prop guns as close combat weapons. After a while they started using the guns as weapons to fight each other, and then – “

Price frowns as you cut yourself off sharply, falling silent as the smile drops from your face. He raises a thick eyebrow at the break in speech, but your eyes are suddenly glued to your destination of the door with a feverish interest.

“And then?”

There’s a hesitant quiet before you respond, and Price thinks he can almost hear the gears in your brain turning.

“Lieutenant McTavish… thought it was not a good idea. Because it was irresponsible and could break the decoys or hurt someone.”

If the pause wasn’t suspicious enough, the (rather specific) answer most certainly was. Lieutenant McTavish? Thinking something is a bad idea? You come to a halt at the door, and he stops in turn, watching you.

“And that was funny?”

“Uh… Yes, sir.”

The door swings open as you turn the knob, stepping in and letting the folders fall on the desk with a sigh of relief. Price follows suit, letting the door fall closed behind him as he places his folders neatly next to the pile on the table before turning to you, crossing his arms and resting his hip against the desks’ edge. You stand next to him in front of the desk, eyes flickering between his intimidatingly relaxed stature and the closed door. Instinctively assessing the room and its exit points. Like prey.

“Can’t imagine McTavish would suddenly find such sensibility in the middle of fuckin’ around.”

The way your eyes look anywhere but his face would be amusing if he wasn’t slightly concerned about the state of his Lieutenants and the training equipment. Though, he assumes since Soap and Ghost thought they could get away with it by using you as their little lackey, nothing serious enough had happened to warrant any immediate action; he would confirm with his lieutenants later though, knowing their irritating tendency to shrug off anything but life-threatening injuries.

“You had to…” He watches you swallow as your eyes finally meet his. “You had to be there to get it, just... Funny in the moment kind of thing.”

“Right, right, ‘course. So, if I was to look through these folders…” He picks up one sitting on top just to make a point, watching your reaction. “… This extra paperwork wouldn’t happen to be accident report and equipment replacement forms, eh?”

Nothing comes from your lips as you part them to speak, and you settle for a nervous shake of your head. He notices the flexing of your arms as they rest behind your back, at an informal stance of attention; fiddling with your hands, he suspects, and the way he’s making you nervous sends a rush to his head. You were never arrogant in your responses, but sure and steady, and the sudden change in your demeanour was thrilling to him. Lying to others clearly escaped your many capabilities, and although he could just bust you right now, he doesn’t.

“And if I went to the infirmary logs, I wouldn’t find a muppet or two listed as treated at some point today? All prop guns will be neatly organised in their respective storage spots?”

There’s a pleading in your eyes as they meet his again, and Price knows he should stop tormenting you with this game. That this game is leading his mind to a dangerous place, and he doesn’t know how long he can maintain the boundaries of professionalism as you tremble in front of him. But he won’t be the first one to break, and something inside him can’t but enjoy the interaction, egging him on – so he lets you suffer before applying more pressure.

“You were asked a question, soldier.”

“Sir?”

He watches you flounder for a few more seconds, stuttering and stumbling over the excuses racing through your mind. “I-I think I should start my work sir, thank you for helping me carry-“

As you reach out to take a folder from the top of the pile, he uncrosses his arms and moves in a flash to capture your hand against its surface, pinning it there.

The silence is almost ringing in his ears as he takes a moment to watch you, caught into leaning closer towards him. If Price took not even a step closer, he’d be towering over you; any further and he could feel you pressed up against him.

“I think there’s something you’re not telling me. S’important to keep the Captain informed.”

Every muscle screams at him to give in, to pounce on you. To satisfy the urge to move he slides his arm between you to put the folder back on the table. He lets it fall from his grip before he forces it back to his side, goosebumps prickling where his arm brushes against your shirt. He doesn’t know what miracle is keeping his self-control hanging by a thread, but he’s listlessly thanking every lesson in self-restraint and patience he’s had. He can’t keep the gruffness out of his voice, scratchy as it rumbles out of him.

“Not bein’ entirely honest.”

His eyes flicker down to your lips, and the stutter in your breath tells him that he wasn’t as inconspicuous as he hoped. But you don’t pull away and your hand stays under his, warm, the shaking lulled beneath his steadying hand.

“Sir…”

He takes the step closer, keeping his hand atop of yours. You need to look up to keep eye contact with the captain, and he knows that this is the last time he’s ever going to get to be this intimate with you. Even as they rush by faster than he can keep up with, one stream of thought is loudest: he can’t be doing this. Price had seen this path before, dismissed soldiers from service who had followed it. Even if he did resign to the idea he liked you, it couldn’t go anywhere. Two soldiers couldn’t fraternise, let alone an inferior and their captain.

And it wouldn’t even matter; you were going to pull away. He was making you nervous, wishfully interpreting your fear as desire. Classic fuckin’ projection. This was going too far; a creepy, old officer taking advantage of a good, young soldier. He can’t make himself move, can’t retract his hand from yours, and he knows it’s a matter of time before you do it for him. He breathes in your scent, surprised he can even inhale and waits for you to move, wishing the moment wouldn’t end.

The world doesn’t feel real when you make the first, most unexpected move. You close the gap, body finally against his, and he knows that this is all a dream when your lips connect. But the way your hand cups his cheeks, rubs against the bristle of his beard feels so real, and the shock begins to subside as he kisses back tenderly, afraid the move will shatter whatever illusion he’s experiencing.

His heart wrenches as you’re pulling back too soon, missing your skin against his lips and cheek, but looking at your expression immediately tells him why. Something almost like shame stirs when he realises he’s been paying enough attention to you that reading your thoughts has become easier, but it’s not a challenge when they’re just an echo of his own; we shouldn’t do this, I shouldn’t have done that, we need to stop right now. But Price’s thread of self-control has snapped – it snapped the moment your lips met his – and he doesn’t care about regret or reservations anymore.

There’s only one thing that’s stopping him. He wants to be sure you want this, wants to know this isn’t a mistake.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t–“

“Will y’do it again?”

The question makes you look as stunned as he feels by the kiss, and the playing field suddenly feels a lot more level. Confidence surges back into him, and as words escape you once more, he has a better idea.

“Just tell me to stop.”

His empty hand snakes to your waist and pulls you back into him, letting you rest for a few moments as he waits for rejection. Nothing but a small huff escapes you at the collision, and Price has never moved faster in his life. When your lips meet again, he kisses you like every second breathing is a waste of time; passionate, breathless and hungry. Finally unpinning your hand from the folder, he moves it against his chest. It spurs you to life, fisting the material in a tight grip as your other hand makes itself home in his hair. Price feels himself twitch in anticipation for the moment that it’s guiding him between your legs, and the jolt keeps him grounded. He needs to take it slow, give you enough time to stop. This was already taking too much in his mind, and he was only stealing as much as you would give him. But the way you kiss him back is almost bruising, and the grip on his shirt wouldn’t let him step back if he tried. He breaks the kiss to press his mouth into your neck, and the way you whimper rips a groan from somewhere deep. It takes effort that makes his body hurt to not bite down as he leaves a trail of kisses, finding a place on your collarbone to suck at, until there’s the smallest mark fluorescing against your skin.

Straightening up lets him take a good look at you, flushed and out of breath from his ministrations. He wishes that he’d done this sooner, and an overwhelming urge to make up for lost time hits him so hard that he feels lightheaded. It’s delightfully easy for the captain to man-handle you, spinning you against the desk and nudging your thighs apart with a careful but firm knee. The hand that was in his hair clutches his shoulder for support, and he keeps his hand steady on your waist. But his knee doesn’t press up yet, keeping his distance.

“Y’know what happens to inferiors when they disobey their superiors, don’t you?”

The way your pupils dilate is exhilarating and he feels him twitch again, slowly pressing against the tightness of his pants. Whatever doubt that’s rooted in his brain is drowning underneath the hunger for you, but he refuses to take chances. He can feel the need rising in his stomach, and the fiendish desires that come with it. He wants you to know what you’re getting into – and maybe a small part of him is still in denial, craving reassurance. One last chance to back out.

“They get punished.”

Anything; the grip on his shirt slacking, a twitch backwards, a crease in your brow. But you just peer up at him with anticipation, unswayed by his conviction, jaw slightly agape as he watches the words sink in. He takes his hand from his chest where it encapsulates yours, bringing it to meld against the plush of your cheek, and the way your bottom lip catches under the thumb tracing it has his mind set on what’s coming next. You kiss the pad of his thumb, and as a small hiss slips from him, something sparkles in your eyes.

“Punished? I’m just doing paperwork, like I’m told, sir.”

Then he feels it; the roll of your hips, barely enough to brush your crotch against his thigh. His grip on your waist stiffens as he tries not to tremble. Your breath catches in your throat at the pressure, and he hopes it frightens you. So unaware of what he wants to do to you.

“Doing like you’re told?”

A stray piece of hair brushes against his hand and he pushes it behind your ear, meticulously using the move to drag his fingers down your neck until he can extend his digits, fitting your neck into the crook of his hand. Feeling you swallow underneath his grip is pushing him, and the way he throbs against the seam of his pants is fighting his urge to drag this moment out until he can commit it to memory.

“Funny. I didn’t tell your hips to move. Didn’t tell you to give me cheek.”

With his hand around your throat, you still give him that bratty attitude.

“Part of the service sir, free of charge.”

He has no question that you want this, the reality has sunk in, and it’s only a matter of how fast he can get you on your knees.

“Second Lieutenant, I think you’ve forgotten how this works.”

A gasp breaks from you as he tightens his grip, just enough to make breathing difficult.

“I think you… need another lesson. Y’need a reminder of what your mouth is for, how you should be usin’ it. As Captain of this platoon, it’s my duty to reinforce punishment for misbehaviours.”

“You report to my Lieutenants. My Lieutenants report to me. I am your Captain. You report to me, with honesty.”

Price squeezes harder, completely restricting your airway, watching as your face reddens.

The hand around your throat falls to his side, and he lets go of your waist to pull your hand from his shirt, the fabric wrinkled and creased. It pains him to vacate his leg from the warm, plush thighs around it as he takes a step back, but he’s well aware that it’s going to be worth it.

“On your knees, solider.”

Without a word you push off the desk, sliding down the sturdy wood of the desk and to your knees, right at his feet. The lack of resilience is intoxicating, wrapping around his lungs and squeezing the air out of them. Without waiting, your hands are running up his thighs but before they can get to his zipper, he snatches them into a tight grip to press against your head.

“I don’t think so. No hands.”

The stare he fixes you is stern enough to keep you in place as he unzips his pants, just slightly tugging them down. His fingers slip further to his pocket, pulling out a cigar to hang in his teeth and an accompanying matchbox. A lifetime of smoking has the move perfected, and he doesn’t even need to watch, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he strikes the match and burns the cigar butt with a slow, deep inhale. Anticipation is doing his job teasing you, and he can see your thighs squeezing together; good, wearing yourself out for him. When you squirm on your heels, he exhales a plume of smoke, dropping the matchbox on the desk.

“See? Wasn’t that hard t’listen.”

The conflict in your mind is apparent; take the degradation or not. Heat rushes through his stomach at the way your jaw clenches, biting back whatever retort was on your tongue, and he thinks the attitude adjustment deserves a reward.

“Good pet, keepin’ your mouth closed. Maybe you won’t be too hard to teach.”

Price takes another long drag, taking the cigar between his fingers.

“Hands behind your back. Get started.”

“Of course, sir.”

He tries to open his mouth to reprimand your snark but instead a growl tears through him as your cheek rubs over the damp material at his tip, leaving it sticky and glistening when you pull back.

You don’t let him catch a breath, delicately grasping the band of his underwear between your teeth to begin tugging them down. The grip on his cigar is precarious and another drag steadies it as you pull down far enough for his cock to fall free, already tacky and wet from being pressed against him.

“Everythin’ out love, not just my cock.”

The small noises of surprise are muffled as he pushes your face into the shaft, an upwards roll of his hips pressing his balls against your lips. It’s almost pornographic as each thrust of his hips drags his aching cock across your face, leaving your skin shimmering with trails of pre-cum. Your cheeks are soft and pliant as they smush against his cock, and the hot rush of air and wetness of your spit each time his cock glides over your lips is almost unbearable. A needy moan vibrates against his cock, the sensation eliciting one of his own. The idea of cumming from just rubbing against someone’s face sounds ludicrous, but as his muscles tense, he needs to pull away before he splatters across your pretty face and gasping lips. Your hair falls from his grasp as he clutches your jaw, gripping it with enough force to hurt, tilting your gaze towards his.

Teeth graze against his skin as you nip the band again and he hisses, fixing you with a stern glare. But the way his dick jumps at the pain betrays him, so he settles for another long drag, watching as you finally accomplish your goal. You let go of the band with a snap, the tight pressure of the elastic under his sack making his shaft throb; on purpose, he suspects.

You sit back on your heels and take it in, almost admiring your work. He loves the way you look at him, studying his twitching and weeping cock, but Price wants to be in control of this moment. A hand tangles in your hair to attain a dominant grip, tugging your head to stay still exactly where he wants it.

“Gonna tell me what my Lieutenants did?“

“They were…”

Satisfaction bubbles in his stomach as you look up at him, sticky, flushed and messy while you lick your lips. He wants you to give in, admit defeat and let him reward you.

“They gave me a close combat lesson and then cleaned down the room, sir.”

It’s so quiet he can hear each breath you take as the satisfaction is replaced with a fiery determination. He doesn’t react or respond, just watches as your eyes dart around his face, trying to gauge some level of reaction. Nothing gives as he rights himself up, dropping your jaw from his grip. The spark of his cigar is dying out, and the last embers glow as he takes a final puff.

“Y’had more than a fair chance, soldier.”

The cigar crunches as he fully extinguishes the expired butt on the desk, letting it fall with a thunk. With both hands free, he tenderly gathers your hair into a bunch, before yanking it back and pinning it against the desks’ surface. The back of your head hits the edge, and he’s satisfied at the yelp and indignant frown it draws from you.

“I’m gonna fuck this mouth ‘til you remember how to be a good soldier. At least work out the fuckin’ stress y’cause me.”

Keeping one hand to trap you against the desk, he wraps the other around his shaft. Spit gathers on his tongue before he opens his mouth, letting it fall down and splat onto his member, making a sticky noise as he rubs it along the length.

“Open up.”

You part your lips, hanging out your tongue and he can’t stop his eyes from rolling back when his cock finally enters your mouth. He knows this isn’t going to last long; Price is a man of drive over energy, stamina ebbing and flowing that’s compensated for by his meticulous touches, manipulative and focused on drawing out every pleasurable sensation he can create whether it’s with his cock or another tool. But in your office, after hours and pressed up against a desk isn’t the right place to bring you apart underneath him, and he has to settle with leaving you a taste only he can satiate.

The way you can’t do anything but let the captain work his hips is erotic, brows crinkled in desperation, eyes wet and pleading, helpless to do anything but speed up the process. It's a miracle he remembers how to speak as shallow jerks massage pre-cum across your tastebuds. In the same moment, he can feel your tongue press against him and his hips stutter.

“Bloody hell, darlin’. Use that fuckin’ tongue.”

Price thrusts further into your mouth, working his way in. You try to swallow around him, spit dribbling from your lips as you do your best to manage the intrusion, and he grunts at the suction it causes.

“Needy little love, eh?”

Another moan vibrates his cock stronger than before, and an animalistic growl is the last thing you hear before he forces the full length in. The way your throat tightens as you gag has his knees weak, and when his balls are flush with your chin, he takes a moment to regain his breath. A slick noise catches his attention, and he realises a hand is between your thighs, slipped under your panties and working away. He’s too close to draw the punishment out any longer, ignoring your absence of permission, and the fact that you’re getting off to being face-fucked is enough to reinvigorate the man.

“Can’t lie for shit, hm? Your body can’t either, just fuckin’ look at that. Playin’ with yourself as I use you.”

Every noise you make courses through him like electricity, and the degradation has you humming and whimpering. Picking up the pace again, lewd, watery plaps fill the air as he fucks your throat. Fluids trickle down his balls, droplets splashing onto your clothed chest with each slap against your chin. The deeper thrusts keep you gagging, stimulating tears that fall down your face, running the military-permitted mascara in black streaks as your eyes squeeze closed. The way you’re falling to pieces underneath him is exhilarating, better than any wet dream or weak fantasy he’s been entertaining himself with. His thrusts grow more erratic, both hands gripping the edge of the table.

“Look at me. Fucking – Look at me.”

Tears drip down your cheeks, nose buried against his pelvis as he feels your throat convulse around him. You blink rapidly up at him, trying to clear your eyes to meet his.

“Watch me while I fill your fuckin’ throat.”

When the words leave his lips, he can see your hand working faster and he feels heat rushing to his loins, thrilled at the idea of coming with you. He picks up the pace, each rough movement driving your head against the wood, and a faint voice in the back of his mind notes to grab Panadol after. The peak of his climax rapidly builds as praise falls from him between pants, telling you how "fuckin’ good" you look taking every bit of his cock.

As he throws his head back, a hand wrapping in your hair and driving his cock the deepest it can go, he prays the walls are thick enough to muffle the depraved grunts and groans he makes while emptying his balls. He feels your body spasm as your own orgasm rushes through you, the high-pitched vocalisations ringing around him as your hips gyrate into your palm and the other clutches at his pant leg. The adrenaline is rushing through him, feeling lightheaded but finally satiated. A hand unclenches from the desk and the other releases your hair, massaging your scalp almost apologetically. When he feels himself soften, he resigns to slowly pulling out, wishing he didn’t have to break the intimate connection. The cum you can’t swallow spills, leaking out and slowly seeping down your neck, onto your chest and shirt.

You look beautiful, face covered in liquids, dishevelled, and still recuperating from your orgasm. Affection overwhelms him and he crouches down, hooking his arms under yours to pull you up from your kneeling position, and sitting onto the desk. A small noise of discomfort makes him feel guilty and Price pushes between your thighs, tentatively pulling you closer into him as a hand rests against your back. The other covers your knee, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the pressure marks. He feels relieved when you melt into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your head to his chest. The room is peaceful, heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, and he rests his chin against the top of your head. Although logic returns to him and rationality begins compiling the consequences of his disobedience, he can’t find himself to care, breathing in that same shampoo smell. He hopes next time – will there be a next time? – he can shower with you, surrounded by your scent. As he loses himself to thoughts of possibilities, a small voice breaks him away.

“It was only a decoy pistol, sir.”

It takes a moment to comprehend what you mean, but the realisation snatches a snort from him.

“... And two SA80s.”

Suddenly, the situation is a little less funny, but he settles on the idea it could have been worse.

“… They ripped a mat open and Ghost had a concussion.”

Of course. He closes his eyes, mentally cursing the two idiots and the additional work they’ve added to his already bursting schedule. But he feels your shoulders shake with laughter, and he can’t keep a smile from his own face. While he’d never tell the two men, they could’ve burnt down the barracks and Price wouldn’t care; as long as it led to right here, with you in his arms.

[paperclipninja]

Seeing everyone's reactions to the Good Omens news, I think I'm feeling some version of them all concurrently. And I know throwing my 2c into the basket is neither here nor there, but I've popped some rambling thoughts under the cut.

First off I want to be really clear: obviously the people truly impacted are the victims of NG's behaviour and that is first and foremost. This is not intended to erase or diminish that, I am distinguishing broader impact from impact on the show here intentionally, even though they are inherently entwined, but want to acknowledge that right off the bat.

This whirlwind of finding out about the allegations, to hearing that the show was paused, to assuming it was cancelled, to wanting it not to be cancelled but not wanting NG to be a part of it, to not being sure how that would happen, to being hopeful, to hearing it is back on sans creep but a movie, to hearing it's a series, to getting confirmation it's a 90 minute movie, to finding out that not even a month ago we were, in fact, getting nothing. It's been a lot.

And I managed to convince myself that if it's cancelled, well then the fandom will live on forever - creating, imagining and determined to continue this story and give these characters the varied and many endings and stories they deserve. Believe me, nothing binds a fandom like an unfinished story.

And then I heard that a movie, then a third series, was going ahead and took that to mean NG was no longer involved and thought ok, it's going to look a bit different probably but that's ok. We will still get a 6 episode resolution on screen, an ending that is canon and ties up all the things and we can enjoy that and all it brings and then, probably have lots of mixed feelings about how it's all tied up, then eventually, probably, start to move on.

And now we have actual confirmation that it's a 90 minute movie, NG properly removed other than some script contribution and it's somehow more than I expected and not enough, and a relief and heart-breaking all at once.

And I have been reflecting and thinking about it all morning and realised that for me, this is a funny, bittersweet kind of middle ground that sort of allows two things to happen: we get a resolution on screen, we get to see these characters we love so dearly together once more and for their story to play out to some kind of conclusion. But we will also have to create and imagine and determine what happens with all that we won't get to see now.

Am I sad that there will be many aspects of the story we will probably never get (thinking of more flashbacks in particular)? Absolutely. But the other thing that often happens when a show ends is that after a while, without the need to speculate or theorise or imagine what could have been, fandoms plateau (that's not to say people don't continue to create and love the characters and show, especially something like Good Omens, but generally, in my experience, the level of engagement will peter off over time without new content, especially if everything is wrapped up nicely with a bow). The compulsion to create endings and resolutions is often diminished once an ending and resolution has been established.

So I realised that we find ourselves in a rather unique position. We will get a resolution of sorts, but all those bits we will never get to see will become the source of speculation and stories and art and theories and what could have been, and it will become ours to imagine and create time and time again. I think that the collective experience of all of this, along with the need to fill in the gaps, might actually keep the many talented creators in this fandom inspired and the rest of us engaged and bound together in a way we may not have been otherwise.

This is obviously just my take and where I currently sit on all this - there is no right or wrong way to feel, engage or move forward from here. The beauty of fandom, especially one as big as ours, is that everyone can find their pocket, connect with those who bring comfort and validation, and proceed in a way that works for you.

I adore this fandom, the people I have met and the unbelievable content and fandom works that come out of it. It is truly unlike anything I've ever been a part of online and if nothing else, I am grateful for that. This was an indulgent little ramble, perhaps it might bring some solace or make you want to throw things at me, and that's ok. We're in it together.

[cynic-spirit]

The Brother in Law

Yn was sitting in her favorite reading nook, a serene corner of her apartment where she often found solace. The quiet of the room was abruptly interrupted by a phone call from Joyce. Yn's heart raced as she answered, sensing the gravity in her sister's voice.

"Yn, I need to talk to you," Joyce said, her voice trembling with a mix of resolve and exhaustion.

"Of course, Joyce. What's going on?" Yn asked, trying to keep her tone steady, though she was already bracing herself for troubling news.

"I've had enough, Yn. I’m divorcing Mark," Joyce said, her voice breaking slightly. "I can't take it anymore. His gambling, his attitude... it's just too much."

Yn felt a wave of relief wash over her. She had hoped for this for so long, but hearing it confirmed still brought a profound sense of comfort. She took a deep breath before responding, her voice filled with warmth and support. "Joyce, I’m so relieved you’ve made this decision. It’s been a long time coming, and I know it hasn’t been easy. I’m here for you, whatever you need."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Yn could almost hear Joyce gathering her strength. "Thank you, Yn. I didn’t want to burden you with this, but I needed to tell you. It’s been so hard to manage everything with Mark... and I miss you, and the kids. I just want a fresh start."

Yn’s eyes softened, and she smiled gently, her heart aching with empathy for her sister. "You don’t need to worry about burdening me. I’m your sister, and I’m here to support you through this. I’m happy you’re taking control of your life. It’s the right thing to do."

Joyce let out a shaky breath, and Yn could sense the tension leaving her sister’s voice. "Thanks, Yn. It means the world to me. I just hope the kids will understand and that we can move forward from this."

"We will get through this together," Yn assured her, her tone firm and comforting. "We’ll figure things out for the kids too. They’ll understand with time."

As the conversation continued, Yn offered practical support and encouragement. She reassured Joyce that she would be there for her every step of the way, whether it was with legal matters, emotional support, or just being there to listen.

When they finally ended the call, Yn felt a mixture of relief and resolve. The path ahead would be challenging, but she knew it was the right step for her sister. She took a moment to reflect on the progress they had made and the support she had offered, feeling grateful for the strength and clarity Joyce had found.

Later, when Bucky entered the room, he noticed Yn’s thoughtful expression and the calm yet resolute aura surrounding her. He approached her with concern and curiosity.

"Everything okay, doll?" Bucky asked gently, noticing the emotional weight that still lingered in the air.

Yn looked up at him, her eyes reflecting a blend of relief and determination. "Yes, Bucky. Joyce is divorcing Mark. It’s a huge step for her, but it’s the right one. I’m supporting her through it."

Bucky reached out and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I’m proud of you, Yn. And I’m here for you and for her. We’ll get through this together."

Yn smiled gratefully, feeling a renewed sense of strength and solidarity. She knew the road ahead would have its challenges, but with Bucky’s support and her own resilience, she felt ready to face whatever came next.

Yn was just about to get into her car in the dimly lit parking lot when she noticed Mark approaching with a furious expression. Her heart sank as he stormed towards her, his anger palpable.

"You think you’re so perfect, don’t you?" Mark shouted, his voice full of venom. "Everything that’s gone wrong in my life is your fault! You ruined everything!"

Before Yn could respond, Mark lunged at her. She stumbled back in surprise, and her attempts to defend herself were met with his aggressive shove. She lost her balance, and as she fell, her head struck the pavement hard. The sharp pain was immediate, and she felt a stinging sensation as a small cut on her forehead began to bleed.

Just as Mark moved in for another assault, Jorah , one of Bucky’s trusted bodygguards assigned to yn who had been nearby, intervened. With practiced ease, Jorah subdued Mark, pinning him to the ground and effectively restraining him.

Mark’s angry shouts were muffled as Jorah managed to drag him away from Yn, who lay on the pavement, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch her bleeding forehead.

Yn looked up, dazed and disoriented, as Jorah called for help. The sight of Mark being restrained and taken away was a relief, but the pain from her head injury and the blood trickling down her face was unsettling.

As Jorah took Mark out of the parking lot, Yn took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She knew Bucky would be furious beyond measure when he saw her like this. She had hoped to avoid any more confrontations, but now, with the injury and Mark’s increasingly reckless behavior, it was clear that her patience had finally worn thin.

When Yn arrived at Bucky's club, her head wrapped with a bandage, she saw him standing near the entrance. His stance was rigid, and his eyes held a dangerous, controlled rage. Jorah had already filled him in on the details, and Bucky's anger was palpable.

As Yn approached, she noticed the cold silence in the room, a silence that only amplified Bucky's intimidating presence. The staff and patrons watched cautiously, fully aware of the tension. Bucky's gaze softened slightly when he saw Yn, but his fury was still evident.

"Does it hurt?" Bucky asked, his voice low and controlled as he gently examined the wound on her forehead.

Yn managed a small, reassuring smile. "No, it's just a little sensitive."

Bucky’s jaw tightened, his anger barely contained. "Mark has outlived his mercy from you, Yn. He crossed a line, and I won’t have it."

Yn nodded, understanding Bucky’s stance. "Yes, you’re right. She knew Bucky held back for her, but now MArk's actions made it clear that all bets are off.

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to rein in his emotions. "I will take care of him."

Yn's voice was firm. "Yes, I know."

"And you won’t ask or intervene here," Bucky said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Yn met his gaze steadily. "Yes."

Bucky drew her closer and kissed her softly, then deepened the kiss, his passion evident. "Do you have any idea how much you mean to me? When Jorah told me what happened, I could have burned down the entire city in anger."

Yn’s eyes shimmered with emotion as she pulled back slightly. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it go this far."

Bucky's expression softened as he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. "Rest, doll. I have to take care of Mark now."

With one last, lingering kiss, Bucky turned and walked out, his steps resolute. Yn watched him go, knowing that Mark’s fate was sealed, but feeling a mix of relief and sadness. Bucky’s fierce protectiveness was both comforting and a reminder of the dangerous world they navigated together.

[rosorbus]

my thoughts on evangelion 3.0+1.0

(as someone who only recently finished it)

as much as i loved shin eva, something about it didn't sit right with me. i've been doing a lot of reflection lately, and i think i've sort of unpacked it?

theres a lot of incoherent rambling here i think but i don't care, i'm not editing shit

spoilers for the rebuilds, don't read if you haven't seen them.

to start, i think it was a- no, not excellent, uh ... it was a satisfactory conclusion to most? i liked it, cried my eyes out obviously.

shinji's character got a great conclusion. i don't think that's a hot take by any means. seeing him actually talking to his father, having a real conversation with gendou, and in turn making that character, who'd probably felt like a walking plot device beforehand, human? that's powerful shit.

↓ please excuse my pathetic whining below

but... oh, mari. she was definitely a fun character, if not a little shallow and fanservicey. her presence never really bothered me though, not until shinji ended up with ...her??

that final scene genuinely shocked me. i guess i sort of get the idea?? like, his only other romantic options were the following:

A: Rei Ayanami

a clone of his dead mother that barely understands the concept of being human, and whose care for him clearly, at least to me, stems from her practically being his family.

B: Asuka Langley Shikinami

an angry redheaded girl who, unlike her version in the original series, is also a clone. this one's backstory is much more shrouded in mystery, but regardless, she's violent asf with shinji, tried to force feed him, etc. as far as we know, she no longer has feelings for him after the 14-year timeskip and is implied to be in a relationship with kensuke.

C: Kaworu Nagisa

(we'll get to him in a minute)

A and B... not great options. A is a weird dynamic, and they give off a sibling vibe to me anyway. B is jusy plain fucked. i've never thought asuka and shinji's relationship was remotely healthy, not with soryuu OR shikinami.

but did the writing team just forget about C? i understand it was established towards the end that kaworu didn't truly understand shinji's happiness, but ...that doesn't fit with the relationship i saw, at least.

to me, yeah, he fucked up a couple times. his existence ended up causing more pain to shinji but this was through no fault of his own.

"all he wanted was for shinji to live and be happy."

kaworu realizing that maybe it was not just a selfless act, that maybe it was also for himself, and acknowledging that, is absolutely character development. in exchange for becoming human, he acknowledged his own flaws.

and that is beautiful to me.

so why am i weirded out by shinji ending up with mari, you ask?

it's because she does not have depth as a character.

she feels so utterly flat to me, and that is not a dig at her, i'm not a mari hater by any means, but OH MY GOD. how do you just end like that? with this one person who doesn't feel like a real person?

and it's not like i'm mad about it because she's new, hell no. it's because she has no flaws. she feels like this perfect shell of a character to me. and maybe that's the point? i have no idea. i have no idea what was going through anno's head when he was cooking up this film.

again, to clarify, i still LOVED the movie. but mari becoming important is weird. kaworu was right there and they just kinda ??? tossed him aside ???

to me at least, it should've been him, or shinji's love life should've been left up to interpretation. mari didn't earn that ending.

(this is the only real criticism i have about the movie btw it was fine)

[kemendin]

Chapter III: Shedding Masks

When a critical mission for the Empire goes wrong, MALAVAI QUINN and LORD KHEL SUTEK find themselves lost behind enemy lines in the inhospitable ice-wilds of ILUM. With only each other to rely on, and their recently-formed relationship still relatively untested, the strain of survival under such circumstances is bound to cause a few cracks. But for two men with life-long tendencies towards walling themselves away - perhaps a few cracks are just what they need in order to start sharing things they’ve long kept inside.

Malavai Quinn x Light Side Sith Warrior Words: 13,500/?? A/N: Chapter 3's been sitting at nearly finished for ages, but I finally got there! This one *cough* absorbed a LOT of my opinions about how I've seen Quinn treated in the fandom, and gave me an outlet for my indignation, as well as making it better. Sorrynotsorry.

Read on AO3 (short excerpt below cut)

Khel gave a small hum of thanks, sitting himself up to accept the canteen. He took several slow sips as eyes travelled thoughtfully over their makeshift camp.

“I must say, you know what you’re doing. Sometimes I forget how good you really are,” he complimented the other man. “I ought to let you take charge more often.” 

His words were light - but something vaguely suggestive in his tone brought a faint flush to Malavai’s cheeks. 

“I wouldn’t dream of giving you orders, my lord.”

“No?” Khel smiled a little - the first since the tunnel’s collapse - and glanced over at him. After a moment’s consideration he leaned closer against Quinn, murmuring, “Not even if I asked you to?” 

His cold lips brushed across Quinn’s jaw, and the captain’s breath stuttered audibly. Clearing his throat, Quinn hastily bent forward again to fumble with his backpack, searching through it for some field rations, though his hands seem to have gone inexplicably clumsy on him. Beside him, Khel let out a soft chuckle.

“You’re still quite shy about this, aren’t you, Quinn?” the Sith observed with mild interest, not to mention amusement. “Even when we’re completely alone.”

“I - “ Quinn hesitated, but there was little point in denying it, and so he merely went on, “...Yes, I’m afraid I am. My lord,” he added quickly.

“Why is that?”

Quinn straightened again, but kept his gaze averted from Khel; instead he watched the reflective surface of the foil-wrapped ration packs as it crumpled and contorted beneath his suddenly worrying fingers.

“I’m not quite sure,” he admitted lowly. “I’m not - used to this, juggling business with pleasure. I haven’t managed to find the balance yet.”

Khel tilted his head; Quinn could feel the other’s grey eyes studying him, before the Sith said evenly, “No… you’re not sure, are you?” Another pause, with only the quiet flicker of the torches and the crinkle crinkle crinkle of shifting foil to break the silence, and then - “Does it bother you, how forward I am?”

Quinn shook his head quickly. “No, my lord,” he assured; but saying it caused him to wince internally, and a beat later he was forced to amend, “That is - it doesn’t bother me, precisely, I’m simply - it’s taking me longer than I anticipated, to adjust to this new… dynamic, between us.” Crinkle crinkle crinkle.

“It took you long enough to adjust to the old one,” Khel pointed out, a touch of wryness in his tone. But he sobered again, and gingerly shifted his weight so that he was angled more towards the other man. A slender hand reached out, as though to curve around Malavai’s jaw; but then Khel seemed to think better of it, and stopped with his fingers still outstretched in the warming air.

“If you’re having second thoughts, Quinn,” he started quietly, “if this isn’t working - I want you to tell me. I’d rather know now.” 

[callmearcturus]

⌚ 🙏🏻🥺

"Hang on," Grace said, "I'm thinking. Hang on. So. You barely even *liked* me, and you saved me from that rat bastard Gabriel, pulled me out of a wrecked car, played human shield to protect me from that lunatic French girl, drove us around while handcuffed, then I almost let a train hit you and you still, you know. Saved me and all that sappy shit, all while you barely even liked me--" "I liked you well enough," Ethan said. "Uh-huh, sure." She points to Benji. "So what would you do for him?"

lmao okay okay this was one punct and i were kicking around that got surprisingly far but now this version needs a full rewrite bc we actually want to make the cast of characters line up with what the Final Reckoning trailer revealed would be Team The Best Team. so this is the old version with luther and grace.

the concept is that Ethan and Benji have a massive expository row because the team just had a chance at Gabriel and Ethan fucked it to go save Benji (even though Grace was Right There and ready to assist, she is badly stung by this) and it spirals into this back and forth with flashbacks and competing interpretation of event between Ethan and Benji while Grace basically is eating popcorn

also we really wanted to harness the simmering, barely suppressed anger that Ethan has through all of Dead Reckoning. rereading it all, it's really good. we're gonna have to figure out a grace-paris-degas redux but @interropunct bro i just reread the document and it's SO fun, ethan and benji are both SO FUCKING MEAN in this fic

anyway, here is a large chunk bc a lot is gonna be rewritten. won't provide any more excerpts of this fic bc this is a chunky chunk:

Sitting on the edge of the table, Grace actually pressed her fingers to her cheeks, reflecting and magnifying Benji. "Oh, that's precious. And so long ago! How long, exactly? Wait, and you've been--" Dropping the cute expression quickly, she made a gesture with her fingers, suggestive, "-- since all the way back in the stone age?"

"You're not that much younger than us," Luther chided her. He was sitting in one of the less rickety chairs, pointedly listening without looking at either Ethan or Benji. That meant he was really thinking about this, taking it in as new information.

Luther did not need even more information about Ethan. If there was an upper threshold for knowing a person, Luther had hit that for Ethan back in the early 2000s.

"You don't know my age, don't pretend like you do," Grace shot back. "I've worked very hard to ensure that." She pointed at Benji. "Go on, about the shagging?"

Benji, unaware of Ethan's new paranoia, seemed happy enough to oblige. "We--ell, no, not precisely? We had a few run-ins around the IMF HQ."

"We have an HQ?" Grace asked, pouting. "I thought it was this big decentralized thing."

"Oh, now it is, yes. Thank god for that, the old headquarters were this nightmare of glass walls everywhere you went. The least clandestine building you could imagine for an intelligence group." He flapped a hand through the air dismissively. "Trying to get a lick of privacy there was impossible, so eventually I started meeting Ethan back at my place... a couple of times?"

Unable to strangle the thing in him that had to be accurate with numbers at all times, Ethan supplied, "It was three times. At least, that year we... it was thrice, before the other times."

Luther barely moved at all, but suddenly his eyes were fixed on Ethan.

Discretion was the better part of valor; Ethan looked away, scuffing the toe of his boots against the dusty floor, examining the shape of his footprints.

"Sure, thrice, sounds about right," Benji agreed. "It was just some fooling around before he met... someone." He moved his shoulders in a carefully smooth, casual shrug. "And that was about as serious as cardiac arrest, so that put an end to it. Amicably, of course, I wasn't under any, you know." Another shrug, this one the exact same movement, a scripted motion Benji forgot to space out. "Misconceptions."

The back of Ethan's teeth twinged. He made himself unclench his jaw, wondering if Benji's bullshit was as obvious to everyone or if Ethan had just become an unwilling scholar in all of the tics and tactics of Benji Dunn.

He didn't get to gauge that because Grace was looking at him now, her brow furrowed like she was mentally recasting him as a younger man. "Hm. Well, fair enough, you may be onto something here. I mean, if it was just a bit of rough fun back twenty-thirty-whatever years ago a handful of times. That shouldn't still be a factor unless one or both of you are super weird about it."

Benji and Ethan looked at each other simultaneously, like the slack in a rope suddenly pulling out and slamming their gazes into each other.

Benji had the decency to look abashed, his teeth pressing down on his lower lip.

When he didn't answer Grace's implicit question, Ethan crossed the room to stand by her, dragging Benji's gaze with him. Popping one hip up, Ethan rested his weight on the table next to her and folded his arms.

Benji pursed his lips. Ethan lifted his eyebrows.

Grace, watching this exchanged, grinned and looked back at Benji.

The color in Benji's face darkened, his neck flushing, his ears going pink. "I-- I didn't say that, I mean, he-- we-- there was the time after he got out of prison."

"Which one?" Ethan asked innocently.

Benji glared back at him. "You know which one."

===

It's pure coincidence that Benji's the one who gets the call. He's rarely been back in the States since passing his field exam, which he's been told is normal for IMF agents. The organization might be technically American, but sometimes that's easy to forget. There's a lot less jingoistic ooh-rah attitude than Benji's experienced when he's been to Quantico and god forbid fucking Langley. It suits him well enough as a former Briton since he's never been able to work up a sense of patriotism for either of his homelands.

Point being: it's luck that he's the one who gets the call. With more than a little banked amusement, Benji steals the first car he sees that looks like it's more than a V6 and races across the desert at speeds that would conservatively get him fined an imperial fuckton of money but more likely would get him arrested.

Benji has known for most of his life that it's only illegal if they can catch you.

An hour and change of fast but uneventful driving later, Benji's phone pings, informing him he's approaching the extraction point. Taking his foot off the gas, the car has plenty of momentum to coast the rest of the way there.

'There' is a spot in the middle of nowhere on US-95 under a spotless blue sky. Pulled off to the side of the road is a rust-red Camaro with the hood propped open. It's late enough in the day that the asphalt ripples like river water, but the sun has at least fallen enough to cast a shadow.

Sitting in the narrow shadow of the car with his arms draped over his knees and his shirt draped over his head and shoulders, is one Ethan Hunt. As Benji closes in, he can see the subtle shift of Ethan's head as he tilts it just enough to look over and examine the approaching vehicle.

Something must give Benji away, because before he's got the car in park, Ethan springs up, shaking his head to knock the shirt off. He strolls out into the road enough for Benji to glide to a stop next to him.

Rolling the window down, Benji is granted a shockingly unguarded look as the blast of air conditioning rushes out the window and ruffles through Ethan's hair. With a sigh of vivid relief, Ethan leans his arms on the car, soaking in the cool artificial breeze.

Leaning into an expensive car window in a singlet and a pair of dark blue jeans, he strikes a very specific image, and Benji can't help himself. "Going my way, doll?"

Ethan smiles, quick and bright, but the second he spots the bottles of water in the cup holders, he reaches out a hand in silent by clear demand. Passing one over, Benji watches Ethan crack the seal on the cap and proceed to knock back two-thirds of the water, his throat working swallow after swallow with mechanical efficiency.

The last third he pours over his own head, dousing his hair and skin with a sigh. "Okay. Thank you."

Putting the car into park, Benji slides out. "What the hell did you do, run out of fuel in the middle of the desert?"

"Mechanical failure," Ethan says, beckoning as he walks over to the popped hood. The back of his hand rubs the rivulets of water from his face, leaving dark smudges behind. The dampness makes the tips of his hair curl, the length notably shorter than when they were in Russia-then-Dubai-then-Mumbai.

The sun is still brutal. Sliding his light jacket off, Benji holds it up, blocking the light a bit and shading Ethan. With his shoulders and neck exposed like that, Ethan's lucky he's not already burnt like a slice of white bread left in the toaster.

Ethan glances over at Benji, eyebrows lifted. "What?" Benji said. "I don't know anything about cars."

"Really?"

"I know how to disable any tracking on a vehicle, how to hotwire the ignition, how to parallel park, and how to crack the remote start encryption. Anything beyond that, forget it."

That earns him a grin, the dark streak curving with Ethan's skin. "Well, one of the coolant hoses cracked. Ergo, engine can't keep cool. And it's a bit hot out here."

"Ah, right, and the CPU just automatically shuts down when you get over 70 degrees."

"Sure," Ethan says with a little laugh.

"Your car?"

"No. Arranged ride courtesy of the IMF. Yours?"

"Probably better than yours. I made sure to lift it out of the parking garage of an upscale office park."

His smile curves into a smirk. "Clearly you do know a bit about cars." Bracing himself on the lip of the lifted hood, Ethan's eyes settle on Benji's and hold.

Abruptly, Benji has a full-body memory hit him. Another year but the same smirk and the same open, honest eyes. And Ethan has not gotten less attractive since their first meeting.

No, if anything, Benji wants him more. It'd be a problem if not for the way Ethan's practically beaming the query into Benji's skull.

It strikes him like a premonition coalescing out of the heat mirage: Benji gets the feeling he's losing his footing here, that he's going to have a hard time saying no to this man.

He clears his throat, dry in the lingering heat of the fading day. "So, you going to let me drive for once?"

Ethan makes a show about thinking about it, his arm dropping back to his side, back into the shelter of Benji's jacket. "I might. You seem to have a handle here, Agent Dunn."

===

"God," Grace said from where she's laid on her back across the table, her jacket folded up under her head, her fingers laced across her belly. "What a line. You put me in 38 degree heat and I couldn't be seductive if my life depended on it." She turned her head to look at Ethan as he continued to sulk against windowsill. The backlit of the city lights were kind enough to obscure his sour expression. "You're a rare operator."

Benji huffed out a laugh as he focused on draining his teabag against his spoon, tossing the sachet into the trash with a nimble flick of his fingers. "The best in the business. I still see that lean and the black smear in my dreams sometimes." With a loud, dramatic sigh, he shook his head. "So we... got on again. Either because I'm weak or Ethan's that good. Half dozen one, six of the other."

The line of Ethan's shoulders drew tight as a bow. "I was on that roadside for three hours and you had the A/C at full blast. I would have done anything to get in that car."

Twisting at the hips, Benji cast a look back at the surly silhouette. "Hm? So if it'd been, say, Brandt who was showing up, you would have still been all slinky with the bedroom eyes?"

Grace only knew William Brandt by reputation, and the way Ethan instantly frowned was another piece of information to add to the collage. "Brandt?"

"In this hypothetical alternate reality," Luther said slowly with a deep hum of amusement, "is Brandt the kind of person who would bother showing up? He'd just delegate that shit out. He'd invent some new requisition form, fill it out in triplicate, and file it with the appropriate authorities before he'd drive out into the desert like that."

"Brandt's a good man," Ethan told Grace seriously. "He just... expresses his concern in very specific ways."

"I would bet every black money paycheck I have ever gotten that he's never gotten off in the backseat of a car," Benji added helpfully.

Getting an elbow under herself, Grace pushed herself up to sitting. "Okay, wait. Shagging in the backseat is already a precarious proposition for anyone over the age of twenty-five in my humble opinion." Benji and Luther both nodded in tacit agreement; Ethan had reverted to his stoic fuming. "But you two did this in the middle of the road in broad daylight after one of you had been in the sun and dirt for hours?" She let out a low, impressed whistle. "That is interesting, now that I think about it."

Ethan's tone of voice had that very particular quality to it that Grace had learned meant he was trying to unclench his jaw and mostly failing. "Interesting how."

She kept her eyes on Benji, who was a much softer target than the alternative. "I am missing an important piece of information that I definitely need to understand the situation." She pressed her palms together. "Was-slash-is the sex good?"

Head snapping up, Ethan was completely back in the conversation. "Grace!"

"It's vital intelligence!" she told him earnestly.

"That isn't relevant!"

"Mhm, dunno, I think it is," Luther offered up with a remarkably straight face. "The parameters change pretty dramatically. If the sex isn't good versus if it is good, that one variable alters the way we interpret the information. The motives at play become significantly different."

Folding his arms tightly over his chest, Ethan narrowed his eyes at Luther. "This isn't an op sec debrief, you don't need to interpret--"

"It was nice," Benji said simply.

Grace lifted her eyebrows at him. "How nice?"

"When you're going to shag in the backseat of a stolen car in the middle of the desert, it's, you know." He shrugged one shoulder. "Good."

===

It's hard to tell in the overbright light of the sun, but the moment Benji gets Ethan into the car, stretched out across the backseat, the shade reveals that Ethan's skin is almost glittering, the sheen of road dust and sweat and bottled water coating him like a coating of sugar or salt.

Salt, Benji discovers with his mouth, and earth. It should not be as hot as it is, but then again, everything is hot by definition right now, it's bloody US-95.

"Close that door," Ethan pants, getting a grip on the seat enough to pull himself further into the car.

"You're not that short," Benji says.

A fast roll of Ethan's eyes escapes him before he reaches up over his head, grabbing the handle of the other door and shoving it open, the beautiful flat line of the desert behind him. "Come on, Benji, logistics."

Well, Benji was good at logistics.

With the door behind them shut, giving them a laughably small amount of protection from the road (and giving any passing drivers a laughably small amount of protection from them), Benji gets his hands on all that skin, running his hands up under Ethan's shirt, his palms pressed firmly. Without further prompt, Ethan tears his shirt up; it escapes his grasp and flutters out the open door. "Shit," Ethan says quietly, almost tilting his head to look.

Gripping Ethan by the belt, Benji drags him down, getting his mouth on the tender skin under the hinge of his jaw, tongue pressing hard enough to feel the pulse there. Shirt forgotten, Ethan cups the back of Benji's head. It'd be tender, but he drags Benji even closer, making a thin noise as Benji's teeth press to his neck.

To hell with logistics, there was nothing thought-out about it, every coherent thought melting out of Benji's skull. There's no way to get more naked without some contortionist-level maneuvering, so Benji doesn't bother, instead just gets things unbuckled, unzipped, opened.

The last time they'd done this, it had been different. Benji hoped Ethan didn't notice, worked to get his hand on Ethan's cock so he wouldn't think about their dalliances back in DC. This wasn't discrete blowjobs and making out in the stairwell with an easy smile and whispered jokes.

Don't think about it, Benji begged silently. If Ethan did and asked Benji why, he did not have an answered prepared. And the truth would probably not go down well.

Fortunately, Ethan just got his foot braced on the frame of the door, legs spread wide as Benji squeeze his dick. "Benji, yesss," he said in a hushed voice, sibilant and needy, "don't stop, don't--" A hand flung out to grip the storage pocket behind the passenger seat, holding on as his head tipped over the edge, dropping back to gasp at the desert beyond.

Anything Benji said would have been much too dangerous, so he focused on tasting the dust and salt, muffling himself as Ethan's body tensed under him, ignoring the heavy thud of want want want filling his thoughts.

===

"Nice?" Grace prompted, hands curled around the edge of her seat, tucked between her thighs, a perfect coquettish image she was aiming at Benji like a laser sight. "Or good? Or..." She trailed off meaningfully.

Not for the first time, Ethan felt a sense of relief that Benji was so consistently unattracted to women, he was immune to Grace's sharply honed maneuvers. Half of her repertoire just didn't play with him, thank god.

Instead of noticing Grace's entreating stare, Benji was examining his fingernails, idly breaking off a chipped bit as he very deliberately didn't look Ethan's way. His awareness was a constant weight, though; as Ethan continued to pace, one of his steps brought him six inches closer to the center of the room, and Benji-- did not look, but reacted, a millisecond of extra time between his breaths before he went on. "I'm not sure what to say. I mean, these things are sort of subjective, I think?"

"Oh, certainly," she agreed. "And what's your subjective opinion?" Her eyes flicked to Ethan, then back to Benji. "Scale of one to ten?"

"Aces high or low?" Luther added.

For a moment, the threat feels real, that he'll have to stand here and listen to a Critical Analysis of Sex with Ethan Hunt. Before he just decides to escape out the damn window, there's a crack in his veneer, Benji's head twisted quickly to Ethan, just enough to flash a grimace that Ethan thoroughly agreed with.

The alternative was almost worse. "The quality of any given sexual encounter isn't the issue here," Benji said, voice flattening. "Hell, the fact that we did have sex isn't even on trial here. The actual issue is that he," and here, he managed to nod his head in Ethan's direction without actually looking at him at all, "has been pulling this shit since London. The sex is-- is incidental!"

"London," Grace echoed.

London. Ethan's fingertips dug into his arms as his pacing slowed and he came to a stop.

The wooden chair creaked as Luther got up, shaking his head as he walked over to the very narrow kitchenette they'd set up. (If a portable induction top on a minifridge counted as a kitchenette.) "London," he said. Pulling the fridge open, he extracted a bottle of water, two beers. "Benji, drink?"

"Just flip the kettle back on," Benji sighed.

Distributing the water to Ethan and one of the beers to Grace, Luther used the edge of the table to pop the top off his own bottle. "Long time ago, a different crazy mass-murdering terrorist abducted Benji to try to force Ethan's hand."

"'Tried' successfully," Ethan pointed out bitterly.

"He fitted me for a lovely new semtex vest," Benji said. "Accessorized with enough shrapnel to kill everyone in the vicinity. All for access to a redbox that Ethan was able to get ahold of."

"Oh," Grace said, her bright amusement from the entire situation dimming. "Well, shit."

"It worked out," Luther said. "Ethan got Benji out of there and we managed to incapacitate Lane, put an end to his organization."

Ethan opened his mouth to correct that rosy version of the downfall of the Syndicate, wanting to mention the months of additional work tracking down the remnants, the splinter cells, the Apostles and Lark and Kashmir.

The hurt radiated from Benji as he went on. "Oh yes, the whole thing went swimmingly. What Luther is kindly leaving out is the bit where the reason the whole mission went to shit was me. But don't worry, Ethan hasn't forgotten."

"What," Ethan said slowly, stalking forward and purposefully putting himself in Benji's line of sight, "are you talking about?"

"After Cobalt, I actually thought you took me seriously. Hell, you barely let me work with other teams--"

"Because we work well together. Wait, are you upset that I..." He'd never considered that Benji was resentful about being Ethan's first-pick for 90 percent of team compositions, Benji had never indicated anything but quiet surprise when it started, and the way that melted into tacit understand, the mutual understanding that Ethan wanting Benji on his team was a foregone conclusion, Ethan thought they both understood.

"--maybe once that was because you," Benji shook his head once, hard. "But after our romantic candlelit bomb-filled evening, something changed. You never trusted me as an agent again, trusted me to understand the parameters of this horrible fucking job. Not with Lane back then, and not now with Gabriel."

"Okay, let's have a breath here," Grace said suddenly, which was good because Ethan was not sure what words were about to come out of his own mouth beyond what are you fucking talking about and her voice was like a pin popping the bubble both of them were alone in. "Benji, that's a lot of, ah."

"Olympic leaps of logic?" Ethan offered.

"Shit you should have hashed out on a therapy couch?" Luther added.

"Lived and frequently replicated life experiences," Benji said, mouth twisted in anger. "Don't act like this didn't start the next day after I was abducted."

[nerdynuala]

Hi, love your hcs from last time! Could I make a hange request? I'm intrigued to think about random real life situations of her. Like, I feel like at least once is her life she was bullied, humiliated? Why do people do that with all nerds lol. how do you think she deals with those situations?

Also, (teenage or youth edition) about how is her relationship with her friends, what habits she has in her daily life, I don't know, I leave you free creativity space!

Hello please forgive me, I don't even know how long this has been sitting in my inbox T_T

I haven't been thinking or writing headcanons lately, but I'll give you my best try because heck you sent this so long ago I definitely owe you at least an attempt lol

Sorry again, I hope you can enjoy this anyway.

I've decided to focus on the prompt of Hange being bullied or humiliated more than anything else, but I threw in some things about childhood/youth friendships (truth is, I don't think Hange had many friends as a child or teen) and some veterans

Here we go:

- a classic, Hange wearing glasses since a very young age, she got called four-eyes ever since she started hanging out with other kids. Did it hurt her? Well, she never would admit it, but until the age of 12/13 she did wish her eyesight was better just so that kids would stop making her feel different, in a bad way. She used to laugh it off when people teased her, but in the privacy of her bathroom at home she would squint at her reflection in the mirror and wish she could walk around without her glasses.

- Being a very curious and somewhat savage kid, with a passion for every kind of bug, did not help her making friends. She was called a weirdo for collecting bugs, showing them to every kid, and knowing all the weird names of the insects. But it was her passion, in this case she really couldn't care less what other kids thought of her. She did befriend a boy who also loved bugs and they used to go looking for them in the forest.

- Hange used to get along better with boys. Girls talked behind her back and found Hange dirty and wild, they used to tell her she "should have been a boy". Hange did not care for "being a girl or a boy", she was "just Hange, take it or leave it". Boys did like Hange's company though, they could play more competitive and sporty games with her and she did enjoy every bit of pinecones and stones wars.

- When Hange grew up, as a teen she often wished she could fit in better with girls in her environment, but she caught some of them talking behind her back, saying Hange was not feminine and an intense nerdy weirdo and that no one, boy girl or wathever, would want to be with her. Hange was really independent at the time and was not looking forward to any relationship in particular, but it still hurt because she only wanted someone to be able to talk to and that would listen to her and talk to her with the same passion she put into things she liked. She stopped talking to the girls she overheard, but she never stopped smiling and waving at them when they crossed paths. Hange did not want them close in her life anymore, but that didn't mean she would stop being kind even though they had not been to her once. Hange understood she was kind of different and that these girls probably weren't open-minded enough to understand that not everyone has to be the same.

- What hurt Hange the most, however, happened in her early adult life. Being a scout, a Squad Leader, and most importantly a Titan Researcher, she once had to present her advances in Titan Research to a large crowd of Scouts and MPs, even higher ranks. She put much effort into it and she was sure that, this time, she had a lot of new information about Titans that would thrill and help everyone out. She did present and, in the middle of the presentation she heard some people giggling and making comments she couldn't hear. It bothered Hange because, heck this was a serious matter and it was important to her and to anyone interested in defeating the Titans. She was interrupted by someone from the Military Police who raised his hand to ask, quite literally, "who the dickhead that let her funds for this bullshit was". The dude even had the courage to say that the money would have been better spent for "hiring some sluts to lift the spirits of the Scouts". It was the first time that Hange was at a loss of words and couldn't bite back. She felt like crying from anger and feeling helpless. She normally dealt with people belittling or bullying her by biting back with some sarcastic remark, but her mind went blank. She couldn't finish the presentation like she had in mind and felt depressed for a whole month after that. Her job, her research and the passion she put into it was the most important thing to her. She could deal with people making fun of her for being weird, for being "not feminine", for wearing stupid glasses... But not with people thinking her work was worthless, she discovered.

After this episode, Levi offered Hange a lot of late night tea and even let her rant a lot. He even asked how she knew that titans don't poop.

Also, a few weeks after that, Hange heard rumors that the MP dude who interrupted her presentation was beaten up by a short guy who ended up being stronger than 5 men all together. They said the guy was probably raised in the underground, as he fought like a thug from down there.

Side note, Erwin subtly raised funds for Titan Research and provided her with a brand new laboratory and named Moblit her assistant, officially. Moblit helped her to find the spark she had lost after being humiliated, he gave her a collection of new Titan drawings that were bound together in a new book, which had a lot of blank pages to fill in with new research. Mike and Levi also promised, without sounding too grumpy, to capture a Titan so that they could study them better.

[realfangurlshit]

For the rafe x barry prompts: anything where rafe is jelous and angry. Like rafe walking into Barry’s trailer, like usual, expecting to find barry alone and ready to listen to him complain and rant about his life or whatever, but instead he’s with someone (maybe a girl) and they’re sitting too close on his couch. Maybe they aren’t even together yet but still, Barry’s his.

I finally got my shit together and wrote this yesterday at 1 am. You can see how I gave up in the end but I hope you like my take on it!!

Jealous

Rafe/Barry

Rafe parked his bike in front of Barry's trailer, tonight he needed a distraction, someone to take his mind off all the chaos in his life. Barry was always his go-to for that and he wouldn’t want to be with anybody else but him right now.

He barged into the trailer without knocking, as was customary between them. "Barry, you wouldn't believe the day I've had," Rafe announced dramatically.

However, the sight that greeted him took him by surprise. There, sitting on the couch beside Barry, was a girl he had never seen before. Her smile was big and bright, and it seemed like the two of them had been enjoying each other’s company for some hours, based on the several empty bottles of beer on the table in front of them.

Rafe scowled, feeling a surge of irrational anger. "Well, well, well, look who's got some company."

Barry raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, Rafe, you always know how to make an entrance. This is Hannah an old friend."

An old friend huh? Rafe thought. What does that mean? Like an old girlfriend? And why did he even care? (Rafe knew deep down why he cared though.)

Hannah gave Rafe a friendly wave, seemingly unaware of the tension in the room. "Hi there, nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Rafe muttered through gritted teeth.

Barry chuckled, clearly noticing Rafe was pissed of and enjoying it. "So, what's got you all riled up today? Trouble in paradise again?"

“Nah, just a rough day, I guess” Rafe said and looked away.

Barry's expression softened slightly as he realized Rafe was more on edge than usual. He glanced at Hannah and back to Rafe. "Alright, man, take a seat. Let's chill for a bit."

Rafe hesitated for a moment before sitting down on one of the creaking chairs. He couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that Barry and Hannah had some kind of special connection and it hurt more than it should.

As the conversation continued between the three, Rafe struggled to keep his jealousy in check. He found himself provoking and poking fun at Barry and Hannah, trying to mask his vulnerability.

Hannah had this smug smile on her lips and Rafe felt himself getting really annoyed at it. “What?” he barked at her.

She giggled softly. “You know, I’ve been married for four years. His name is John.” she said.

Rafe fell quiet for a few seconds, reflecting on this new information and what it might mean. The then gave her a genuinely confused look, as he was wondering what that had to do with him.

“So you don’t have to be jealous, honey. Barry and I have known each other since when we were kids and never ever have there been anything romantic between us, so you can chill.” She continued.

Rafe just stared at her with his mouth half open. He didn’t know what to answer. He looked over to Barry who looked equally confused for a moment before a smirk began to form on his face.

“What are you suggesting right now?” Rafe asked her, nervous of the answer he suspected was coming and how the hell he would reply to it. Hannah just smiled and looked from Rafe to Barry and back again.

Barry's smirk grew wider, clearly amused by the situation. He leaned back on the couch, putting his arm around the back of it, as if settling in for some good entertainment. "Seems like Hannah's just trying to clear the air, Rafe. No need to get all worked up."

Rafe's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and frustration. He hadn't expected to be caught in his jealousy so easily, and he didn't like feeling so exposed. "I'm not jealous," he muttered defensively, trying to brush it off.

“Oh but you are” Hannah chuckled “and the two of you are in love so just kiss already.”

Rafe's eyes widened, and his heart seemed to skip a beat at Hannah's blunt remark. He felt like the ground beneath him was shifting, unsure how to respond to her bold declaration. Barry's arm remained casually draped over the couch, but he was now looking at Rafe with an intensity that made him squirm uncomfortably.

"Okay, that's enough, Hannah," Barry laughed, but the look of uncertainty on his face evident.

Hannah just shook her head, smile never faltering. "Uh huh I’m sorry but I’m not gonna let this slip Barry. If there is one time in my life I’m gonna wingman somebody it’s now.” She said apologetic and turned to look at Rafe.

“Me and Barry have been hanging out the whole evening and half of the time it has just been Rafe Rafe Rafe.” she continued.

Rafe felt his face burning hot, and he glanced at Barry, who was now looking a little flustered as well. “I’m gonna head home for the night and leave this conversation up to you.” She smiled and stood up.

As they said their goodbyes and good nights to Hannah and she had closed the door after her their gazes met. Rafe didn't know what to say. His feelings for Barry were complicated, and he had spent so long denying them even to himself. The idea of admitting them to Barry, let alone acting on them, was terrifying.

Rafe swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, but they seemed to escape him. He felt a mix of emotions swirling inside him - fear, desire, and a deep longing.

Barry leaned a little closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Hey man I don't know what to tell you dawg, Hannah has a way of being pushy, but she means well." He laughed softly.

Rafe could feel his warm breath on his skin, that’s how close they were. It would be so easy to just lean in the last few inches and close the space in between them but it would also be the riskiest bet in his life so far.

”So you’ve been talking a whole lot about me, huh?” He chuckled instead. Still just inches the other man.

“So you’re jealous of me spending time with girls, huh?” Barry countered.

“What if I am?” Rafe responded tentatively, careful to keep the eye contact even if all the wanted to was looking away from those scrutinizing, beautiful brown eyes.

No point in backing out now he thought, it’s do or die. He would probably either get his ass kicked or have Barry laughing the entire situation off just to never bring it up again. But he had to give it a shot so he bit his lip and continued “What if Hannah’s right and I’m just madly in love with you?”

Rafe's heart pounded in his chest, his vulnerability laid bare in those few words. The seconds that followed felt like an eternity as he waited for Barry's response. He was torn between the fear of rejection and the hope that maybe, just maybe, Barry felt the same way.

After a few entireties passed Barry finally let out a soft laugh. “What if you are, country club, and what if I feel the same way?” Braver than Rafe, he reached his hand forward to grace Rafes neck. Rafe took a tentative step forward just to show Barry that he wasn’t fucking around, waiting to see if Barry were, expecting a slap in the face at any point now. But there were no slap, just a warm mouth on his, and rough hands on his body. Rafe immediately answered the kiss, probably to rough, to needy, but he wanted this for far to long to hesitate even one second.

And that’s how Rafe being his own dramatic self landed him a boyfriend. *jealous girl by Lana Del Rey playing in the background*

[archivalofsins]

I didn't bring this up because I only realize how funny it is now in hindsight, but I showed my nephew Deep Cover. When he asked me what did she do I said without missing a beat,

"She's a fascist." Without explaining more because I literally thought I'd be able to explain more. Plus I cope with people being assholes about an idea by leaning into it further. So I didn't really think about how this would affect him I just said it mindlessly.

But this man hung his head, shook it, looked at the ground and said, "Why'd they make the fascist hot, though?" Then he started disparaging before he just walked out of the room. Like he just couldn't do it anymore. Left then he came back and shook his head again while looking at the screen like, "Damn why they make her bad though. Why she look so good?!"

Me looking at Kotoko in a new light- Internally like

"Damn did I just get used to this? Am I immune because of how much I see you? Like yeah you're gorgeous but damn it's like I've just gotten to know her character to the extent it's kind of like a nonissue. It's just like it's Kotoko she always looked like that."

But my nephew was just over making me realize like what she is conventionally attractive and to an extent in a way that can still be viewed as feminine. Then I thought about the others and went fuck literally every adult character here is someone's type.

So I'm just sitting there watching my nephew lament this information. Because when someone hears a bad term, they expect to see an ugly person. Like someone uncharismatic and unconventionally attractive. Then it dawned on me like oh, oh no wait a second yeah this is bad news to anyone that finds her hot. This is bad news for people who haven't really reckoned with the fact good looks don't equal good person.

It's pretty privilege I'm seeing body/pretty privilege.

I like evil people in media and to an extent in real life- So, this doesn't bother me. Yet a lot of people don't just go,

"Eyy, I'm down to clown- Playing the fool is my favorite tool."

When faced with the possible atrocities of someone they find attractive in any way not just physically. Many people actually don't simp like they're going for the gold in it. A lot of folks have these things called standards that they hold even fictional characters to. I think this moment was the closest I've got to understanding what gets people deep into apologism for characters in general.

Along with understanding the difference between the terms down bad and down horrendous. Down bad was what my nephew was hearing me say that down horrendous is... Something else entirely. That shit was funny in hindsight. It's a terrible thing to remember right before a family gathering. It's like, do I explain further? Do I let it lay...how does this reflect on me.

Side note I have shown him all the videos. Just for fun, his responses have been hilarious. He was just so flabbergasted by this. Rightfully so because I didn't even say what her murder was, I just offhandedly gave him an entire ideology because I was looking at my phone so I spoke on instinct and spite. Now I'm excited for the gathering because I get to bother my youngest nephew (just graduated college) with this.

The one who did this is a year older than me, and the other nephew I showed is the same age as me.

So it's always fun hearing how our opinions differ.