#it never used to happen but everything is so fucking cheap now

[zutaranation]

Talking about The Search with some moots on twitter, got me thinking some really interesting potentials.

It’s in character that Zuko would forgive Ursa for forgetting him and want what’s best for her and intellectually understand why she did what she did, but I think emotionally, beneath the surface, he would feel deep pain at that.

Ikem and Kiyi’s existence clog up the plot. It’s too many cooks in the kitchen. Dont get me wrong, Ikem is a fine dude, he seems chill, and I love the dadko moments that come from Kiyi, but it’s too much going on directly linked to the main cast’s lives. That’s why it’ll never be addressed, which feels cheap and makes the reader feel cheated. Like Zuko has a STEPDAD now?! That should be a huge plot and discussion, but it’s not. It’s glossed over. There’s too many characters.

The whole gaang could’ve looked at Zuko, remembered what Ozai looked like, and laughed at him for thinking Ikem was his bio dad. That made no fucking sense. Sadly for Zuko, he’s the spitting image of Ozai. I could see Zuko being in denial, but Aang should’ve laughed at him tbfh.

Like Kiyi and Ikem wouldn’t come up in a gaang adult movie they’d be forgotten and that’s why they shouldn’t have existed.

Kiyi also just feels like some weird bandaid consolation prize for Zuko to toss Azula aside ??? It’s weird idk.

Like why are Ursa’s parents presumably dead? They easily could’ve been alive 💀 Ursa should’ve been vibing with them and zuko meets normal grandparents that were hidden from him for years … it feels less cluttering of a story than making up Ikem and Kiyi and then you would just presume the grandparents are old and rickety and have to hang back in Hira’a most of the time so it’s not like bugging your mind with questions and adding more unaddressed storylines!

I’m okay with the Ursa forgetting her kids plot. I do think it makes her shitty, but I’m okay with the tragedy of it and her being kinda a shitty mom.

Ikem is low key a freak for helping Ursa forget her memories then settling down with her like NOTHING HAPPENED

I wish that Ozai and Ursa once had feelings for each other and he slipped into “madness” in an “absolute power corrupts absolutely” kinda way. It’s more interesting than “he’s always an evil big bad gonna tie you to the train tracks” vibe and eliminates the need for stupid ass Ikem. I remember Bryke mentioning this once too in some old ass trivia bit or something for “Zuko Alone”.

The worst part about The Search is the glossing over the emotional scenes. What readers had wanted for years so badly was the emotional payoff of either Zuko facing his mother was dead, or actually seeing them reunite. Also— the most emotional— Ursa reacting to Zuko’s scar is entirely skipped. It sucks.

Not letting Zuko and Katara have a single conversation when Sokka and Zuko do and Aang and Zuko do is insane. Katara had so much to feel and bond and hurt over Zuko with (yes platonically in this case I’m not that in denial @ antis). It sucks so bad they cut this entirely for shipping bs hatred because BRYKE are 6 years old emotionally.

This would’ve been a much better and emotionally charged story on screen. It was really cheated by being done on a limited page comic. It needed more time, voice acting and music.

It’s implied heavily, as many of us always assumed, that Ursa was SA’d.

If zutara was canon, I think Katara would be furious at Ursa and it would be an interesting conversation and story. Maybe I’ll write that fic

Regardless of these many flaws, the story is much more in character than The Promise or Smoke & Shadow. I hate those comics so bad for making the theme let’s all kill Zuko and be nonchalant if he dies! And making it so that it’s like he never had a found family and still no one loved him and also the weird submissiveness they gave to Katara and the retconning of everything and the repetition and recycling of plots and it all is so bad… 💀😭

What thoughts do yall have? Happy to discuss 👀

[harryshomebaby]

bed sheets that pill with friction you can’t avoid at the bottom of the bed… my enemy

[tonycries]

The Way You Kiss Me - G.S.

Synopsis. The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Suguru’s sister! reader, childhood enemies to lovers, PINING Satoru, like really really disgustingly down bad, creampíe, oral (fem receiving), pússytalking, needy JEALOUS! Satoru, running away from it, spítting, punching is Suguru’s love language, mentions of aIcohol, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 7.4k (That’s wild)

A/N. BOO! Surprise upload. This was so fun to write omg.

“You sure this is how the grown-ups get married?”

“Duh, I know everything.”

“Nuh uh, Toru.”

“Yuh uh!”

The first time Gojo Satoru kissed you was underneath that dingy playground slide that the two of you always raced to after elementary school. 

Usually, your older brother, Suguru, would walk home alongside you two - but this time, he’d just so happened to have been held back for throwing paper planes at the teacher that day.

A sign from the universe, Satoru internally celebrated, something he’d learned from those sappy romance novels his mother left lying around the house. No matter that he was the one that made those planes.

You were six back then, standing in front of a determined Satoru - reaching up on his tip-toes, face pink, smelling of those cheap strawberry lollipops he’d sneak into class and taunt you with. At the much older and wiser age of seven, he’d insisted on being the first one to lean in.

Just barely even grazing your dramatically puckered lips before-

Satoru learned two things that fateful afternoon:

Even as a seven-year-old, Suguru’s punches really hurt. 

Never mess with you. Anyone but you. 

Life only seemed to go downhill from there - because that last lesson was proving to be hard along the years. Really. Fucking. Hard.

Little did Satoru know that this would be the start of some strange, unpredictable little dance of push and pull. No, you definitely weren’t his wife. Nor were you exactly best friends - not really, that spot was reserved for your brother. But you didn’t think you could ever be just that either.

And the punch that’d knocked his wobbly tooth out onto the playground floor that day was a painful reminder that whatever that was - whatever weird thoughts he had later in middle school about how you’d tasted like candy - didn’t matter. No matter how part some tucked-away little part of him wanted it to.

Hell, eleven years later and Satoru still can’t walk around that familiar block without feeling slightly queasy. Which is why, after that failed first kiss, he knew there wouldn’t be a second. 

Instead, he settles back to teasing your pouty self, pushing all your buttons, tugging on those cute dresses you wore. Face burning so strangely with- humiliation? when you bickered right back, calling his haircut a “tragic attempt at modern art.”

“So you’re saying I look like art?” A gangly, now-seventeen Satoru blocks the bustling high school hallway, ignoring the bell. Grin only growing at your frustrated huff, he half-jokes, “Aww, if you’re that soft on me, sweetheart, maybe we should go to prom tog-”

You slam your locker, effectively shutting both it and Satoru at the same time. “I’d rather go with Yaga.”

“...you would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would- Sugu–!”

And all Suguru can do is wrap two hands around his neck, mock-choking himself, wondering if it was really too late to embrace a quiet life as a monk. “You’ll both be MLA cited in my farewell note.”

He was used to it, though, forced to watch all this chaos since quickly mending his friendship with Satoru over ice cream the day after the punch. Convinced that this was some punishment for a past life’s misdeed.

With a squawk of protest, Satoru’s turning back to you, eyes crinkling with a hint of mischief you knew too well, “Would not.”

Your face burns, “Would to, Toru.”

You didn’t go with Yaga. but Satoru didn’t exactly count that as a win in his books, either, because you did show up that night hanging off the arm of some jerk from the football team. 

And there you were, all dolled up - which he very objectively noted - way too prettily for some bastard like him. Stars in your eyes, and everything he couldn’t have in that smile. 

Everything. 

Way too gorgeous, even when he finds you sitting outside the gymnasium later on in the night. Too busy bawling your mascara off to even throw out your usual greeting insult his way. Murmuring out wetly about “that asshole” and how he humiliated you by stranding you in the middle of the dance floor for someone else. 

“Well, he was a jerk anyway. Even Yaga would’ve been better, hell, I-” Satoru stops short to his horror at the way you only cry harder.

Way too irresistible, especially as his body moves before his mind - holding out an open hand before he knows it. “I’m a much better dancer than him and you.” And oh Satoru will forever remember the way his heart lurches as you blink your teary eyes up in confusion, “Well, aren’t ya gonna take up the challenge?”

Weirdly, it wasn’t weird at all. 

If anything, you had to hold back your laughter the entire time at the way the great “campus sweetheart” Gojo Satoru was so on edge.

Just a friend comforting a friend, right?

So why was he avoiding your gaze with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, summer blue eyes pointedly trained right over your head. That pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks reflecting the hands hovering in midair over your waist. So close - and yet, fear in each and every turn and swirl.

Yours were searing into his broad shoulders as you tried to guide him to the muffled music from inside. And shit.

That night ended with a second kiss. 

You don’t know who leaned in first, just that Satoru’s soft lips were just fleeting on your glossy ones - barely even a touch. And that shit shit shit- this was Satoru. This was you. 

Everything. 

But it seems that every time Satoru was about to kiss you dangerously close to the way some tiny, forbidden part of his heart wanted to - the universe throws an obstacle at him. An obstacle that was six feet and named “Suguru”, currently running at break-neck speed out of the gym.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES!” he cackles, “THE FOOTBALL TEAM ISN’T TOO HAPPY ABOUT ME BREAKING THEIR STAR PLAYER’S NOSE.”

And not a word is uttered about the kiss as the three of you speed out of the school parking lot in Suguru’s busted-up black hellcat, the wind mussing up the hairstyle that took Satoru over two hours to perfect. Sneaking in glances at the sight of you singing along at the top of your lungs to some overplayed pop song on the radio. 

He learns another two things that night:

Apparently, Suguru’s right hook still really fucking hurt. And thank god for tonight’s casualties of noses, because it was a wonder that he didn’t look too hard at how close Satoru was with you. 

He didn’t…dislike the feeling of your lips on his. And judging by the way you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror - you didn’t either.

It’s mainly that last one that makes him gulp.

Neither of you remember the third kiss - though, Satoru’s sure that at least 80% of Shoko’s instagram followers did.

According to a very hungover Shoko, and the many, many forms of documentation, it had happened on the New Year’s eve during your third year in university. In which you were much more used to the raging parties that would be hosted at Suguru’s apartment, and only slightly less intimidated by them.

“And you’re a lightweight too, dumbass. You were gone.” Shoko sighs from across the café table, eye bags deeper than the last time he’d seen her. “Like gone gone.”

God, what a way to start the year.

Satoru bites back a remark about how “gone” Shoko herself had been. Sitting up straight in his seat, regret immediately hitting his senses faster than the guilty throbbing at his temples. He winces, managing out a semi-disbelieving groan of, “Gone gone?”

And she’s only nodding wearily, subconsciously tapping out the rest of her cigarette ashes onto his untouched plate of sweet pastries. 

“I’m talking dancing on expensive coffee tables and fighting to stop you from giving everyone there a strip show.” She cracks a smirk through a waft of smoke, “Though, she would’ve loved that I’m sure.”

“Har har har, you’d make even Nanami laugh with that one.”

“Eugh, gross.” Shoko taps through her phone briefly, swirling it around to show Satoru a few pictures that definitely gave him a mini-heart attack at 8:57 in the morning. “You look like you’re about to pen really bad poetry.”

And perhaps this was Shoko’s plan all along - to shock Satoru to the core hard enough that she can note it down as one of her sketchy psychological experiments. 

But he knew. Could feel it in the hazy fragments of memories - or, at the very least, in that entire highlight that Nanamin had oh-so-conveniently put up on Instagram titled, “Blackmail.”

You knew. 

You’d kissed him back. 

“I don’t have a-.” you slur, stumbling ever-so-slightly as you try to meet Satoru’s glassy eyes. Because shit the years have had him shooting up faster than you could look up. “-a New Year’s kiss, y’know.”

You were older - more gorgeous, if that was even possible now. That tight dress hugging your body so unfairly in a way that had him forgetting you were his best friend’s sister. 

The one person in this whole world that he couldn’t have.

But Satoru leans in closer, more because he wants to than anything - he could pick out your voice anywhere let alone over the thumping music currently filling his crowded living room. Lips loose as he tries to play up the cool-guy facade he’s been dubbed with since freshman year, “Hah, loser. Because I do.”

“Where?”

At this, Satoru is stumped - damn, you were good. 

“Not- uh here?” If he was in any clearer state of mind, he’d have been embarrassed at the way his voice cracks so traitorously as your unsteady hands pull him in closer by his overpriced button-up. 

Your body was flush against his now, so addictive. Gaze half-lidded and flickering between the sliver of milky skin exposed on his chest - from that impromptu striptease he’d almost started earlier - and the blue eyes that were currently locked you. You whisper a strained, “Liar.”

Close - too close. So dangerously close.

He breathes out against your lips, the smell of booze and you so heady in his mind. And the heavy words falling from his lips sound like lies, even to him. “Not.”

“Toru?” you hum, a sound that has him gasping. “Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And there went your New Year’s kisses. At exactly 11:37PM, if the photos were anything to go by. 

And holy shit were there many. All of which showed your arms looped around Satoru’s neck, crashing his lips to yours. His own, resting against your waist, a scandalously red blush - whether from the alcohol or you - adorning his cheeks. Looking more blissed out than he ever remembers feeling. 

“I’m a dead man, Shoko.” 

There’s a lengthy silence, leaving Satoru stewing in thoughts of how Suguru would react once he finds out. And whether or not he’d be able to rise from the dead just to see how pretty you’d look at his funeral.

Morbid thoughts broken only by Shoko’s cough, “Hey, can I keep your eyes for experimentation if he actually catches you?”

Subtly, he sends himself those photos from last night.  

Luckily for Satoru’s eyes, they never ended up being donated towards Shoko’s questionable contributions to the world of medicine. 

And by some grace of the gods above, Suguru never mentioned a word about the kiss that would’ve inevitably made its way to him. Or maybe it was because Satoru stole his phone until he managed to pester Nanami just enough to take down that highlight. But, semantics. 

His heart, however, might as well have been part of some experiment.

Because it’s been working overdrive since that night - mind reliving that moment over and over and over and- shit, he’s fucked. So, so fucked. 

Fucked enough that it took Satoru months just to muster up to even look in your pretty eyes once more, unless he wanted to get lost in them forever. Fucked enough that he dared to wonder again and again when there might be a fourth kiss - if there would be a fourth kiss. 

He just never thought it would happen the way it did - with you, standing outside his front door. 

“I’m sorry, Toru.” you mumble, “It’s just- I think we both need to grow up.”

You’ve freshly graduated now, looking more and more irresistible each time he sees you - even when you’re looking at him like that. 

Rolling his eyes, “Ha, is this another way of saying you want my secret to getting taller? Because the first thing is to-”

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

And oh how he wished you’d say something - anything - else right now. Call him anything but that. Maybe even throw an insult his way, tell him those new sunglasses look ugly, or about how you got that internship he would’ve died for. 

Satoru manages to choke out a heavy, “I don’t understand.” But that uncomfortable coil of something curling at the pit of his stomach said otherwise. And it causes him to finally breathe out a hesitant, “Maybe you’re right.”

As if that was all the answer you needed, you’re stepping out of the front door. Slow, and deliberate like you were giving him another chance - a thousand more. Sighing out a defeated, “It’s been years.” It has. “And we’re just running in circles.” You have. “I’m starting to think this is just some game to you.” It wasn’t.

“Wait!” he grasps your hand - soft. The look in your eyes even softer as you turn around to face his desperate face. “Please, sweetheart.”

Satoru doesn’t even know what words he wants to say - let alone whether they’d come out of his heavy mouth. 

So, instead, he’s crashing them into yours. 

Brief. Fleeting. Like each one before this. Too addictive, too short, that he thinks he’s almost imagining it as you pull away gently, until he sees that look in your eyes. 

“Toru, I have a date.”

The fourth kiss.

Satoru’s letting go of you like it burned - and, truly, it felt like some deep, dark part of him was burning down right now. “Great.” That should be hm that should be him that should be- “I’m…happy for you.”

And the last.

He fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

That first date turned into a second. The second into a third. And unfortunately for Gojo, eventually, you were nearing your one-year anniversary with that asshat you’d met during the early days of your internship. 

He’d seen the man himself once, briefly at another one of Suguru’s famous parties. Ducking out of sight before he could be introduced, yet long enough to know that he wasn’t as tall, or as handsome, or as absolutely fucking hilarious. 

What did he have that Satoru didn’t? 

The answer to that, Satoru’s reminded of every time he’s causing ruckus over at Suguru’s apartment, and sees you walking out of your room, tittering on the phone to none other than your boyfriend. So gorgeous. So not his. 

You, that loser had you.

“If you sigh again I swear I’m shoving this popcorn up your a-”

“It’s a sad movie, Suguru!” he defends, draped across your couch at another one of those movie nights you loved to organize. As usual, there was the popcorn, the god-awful movie (if Satoru picks it), and the arguments. The only thing missing, however, was you. Ugh, something about an “anniversary” and a “seafood date”. Seriously, it’s not like you even enjoyed that new seafood restaurant in town, and he’s sure that bastard didn’t know-

“Satoru.” his best friend’s deadpan voice cuts through his little reverie. “We’re watching Mean Girls.”

And he’s barely even opening his mouth to snark back before-

SLAM!

Suguru pauses the movie almost immediately, turning to the direction of the front door. “Uh oh.” 

And lo and behold - there was you in all your pissed off, beautiful glory. Throwing your keys on the table, your fiery glare passes over the two men as you stomp to your bedroom. 

“Seafood wasn’t that good, sweetheart?” Satoru calls out behind you, eyes sweeping down your figure. Heart stuttering in his chest when you turn around with your fists clenched, lower lip wobbling in a way that Satoru would both kill whoever made you feel this way and die to be on the other side of those daggers in your eye. 

Sniffing out an icy, “Fuck off, loser and loserette.”

Then in a whirlwind of rage, you’re gone - your bedroom door slamming only slightly more gently than you’d done with the front door. Leaving a deafening silence, and Satoru whining, “Why am I the loserette?”

“Deserved.” Suguru shrugs. Warily eyeing your door, as if it was about to pounce at any given second, “Let her cool down before you give her an aneurysm at least.” Unpausing the television, propping his feet back up, “S’enough having to deal with you on top of a boyfriend like that.”

And that has Satoru perking up in interest - both figuratively, and literally as he snatches the remote and pauses the movie. “Wait wait wait what-” Holding it way out of Suguru’s reach, “What do you mean a ‘boyfriend like that’?”

Scoffing, “Funny. Now give me back the remote.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

Only then does it dawn on Suguru that this might just not be some strange prank to stroke Satoru’s ego, and he was actually  more serious than he’d ever seen him. Damn. 

“Bro, have you really never met the guy or something? He’s a complete tool. I don’t know what happened, but this breakup was a long time coming.”

Satoru blinks, feeling a red hot surge of anger. “What? Seriously? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“You think I didn’t try?” he sighs, running a hand through his hair at the other’s uncharacteristic silence. “Hah, and just imagine, the man was talking about marriage, too. As if.”

And suddenly, Satoru’s hit with an image of you walking down the aisle. Not something he was a stranger to, but it still takes him aback. The sway of the fabric beneath his fingers, your lips against his. Hell, in that split-second he even dreams up how Nanamin would be crying very reluctant tears of joy. 

Everything. Everything that wasn’t his.

His fist tightens around the remote, until he could hear the cracking of plastic. Mind whirling with the thought of you and him and you. How he wished it was him and you. “I would’ve been better.”

Oh. 

Shit. 

“I- fuck this. Suguru, since elementary school I…”

And, well, Satoru’s so busy putting that extra physics seminar he took in university to work - trying to calculate the odds of surviving a jump out of this seven-storey window - that he almost misses Suguru’s low hum, a distant, almost barely-audible little interruption, “Well duh.”

“Hold on.” he’s snatching away the remote that had somehow slithered its way into the other’s hands once again. Ignoring his best friend’s croak of protests to pause in the middle of Regina George being hit by the bus - which, he felt was strangely enviable right now. “That was- what? YOU KNOW?”

“Huh? Even my parents know, the only one that doesn’t is her.”

“...”

Satoru didn’t know how Suguru seemed so calm, but he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. Heart stuttering in his chest as he sideglances at your firmly shut door - like he was just waiting for you to jump out and tell him this was some elaborate prank. 

Begging for you to come - it would’ve hurt less.

But you don’t.

Fuck. 

And the only response he gets is a low whistle, before a phone is being shoved in his face - flashlight illuminating that crimson blush. “Damn, the great Gojo Satoru speechless? The groupchat is gonna love this, might even send it to my sister, y’know.” 

He didn’t care - didn’t give a shit if this video made rounds to Gakuganji himself. Only one thought racing through his mind right now. 

“But why aren’t you punching me like in elementary school?” 

And Satoru knows he’s smart - intelligent even. Hell, he was the valedictorian, the youngest employee to claw their way up to being on the board of directors. But he’s never felt more stupid when Suguru breathes out a bewildered, “Dude. That was for blaming me for the paper planes.” 

“Oh.”

Then the movie is unpaused. 

---

The last time you kissed Gojo Satoru was at the doorstep to that overpriced penthouse of his, exactly a year ago today. 

The last time you saw Gojo Satoru was just a few hours ago, lounging around your living room like he owned it. Honestly, he might as well have been part of the furniture at this point - like some expensive, fluffy couch. One that prattled on about your “dumbass boyfriend” and god-knows-what else to rile you up just for the fun of it.

Which is why it was odd to step out of your bedroom - eyes just a bit puffy, throat still tight - to a suspiciously quiet hallway. 

The lights were turned off, nothing but the pouring rain sounding from outside, television paused on some rerun of The Princess Diaries. Damn, you told those idiots not to start that one without you.

“Sugu?” you call, finding his bedroom empty. “Thought tonight was movie night?” Padding across the empty apartment, contemplating whether or not to get your phone and call him when-

Ding!

Ah, there. 

You roll your eyes as you head towards the front door, ready to give Suguru a piece of his mind for going out at this ungodly hour and forgetting his key. Seriously, what if you opened the door and he was hurt, or worse, or…

Satoru. 

Speaking a mile a minute.

Satoru.

“-florist was closed and the store clerk looked at me like I was crazy but I got this for-” he pauses abruptly, as if realizing something with a jolt. “-you.”

“You- what-” you don’t know where to look - at the drenched, disheveled Satoru filling your doorframe - rain in his hair, curtaining his frantic eyes, drenching his snug t-shirt. Or at the obscenely large bouquet of cheap strawberry lollipops being placed gently into your arms. 

What follows was an electric silence - and you have half the mind to tease Satoru for finally shutting the fuck up for once in his life. 

But, no. Instead, you eye the way he stands stubbornly at the doorway, fists clenched, blue eyes locked so intensely on yours that it was like they burned. 

Face flushed a familiar pretty pink that makes you realize that shit, he might be taller, voice deeper, broad shoulders tight against his t-shirt - but this was still the same boy that cried when you stole his favorite Digimon card in middle school. The same one that kissed you underneath a dingy slide, smelling of strawberry lollipops.

It’s the steady tap! tap! tap! of the water droplets from his hair that have you tearing your traitorous eyes from his see-through white t-shirt.

Guess you’ve both done some growing up since then.

“You loser.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

The pink wrapping of the bouquet rustles as your grip tightens. “He proposed to me today, y’know.” and yet, your quiet, even voice was the only thing ringing in Satoru’s ears. He jolts, as if some visceral, primal part of himself had been poked awake. Breathing heavy, fists clenching until he could feel the neat indents of his fingernails on his palm. Of course. He’s late. He’s late he’s late he’s late-

That is, until you’re plowing on, “I said no.”

“Huh?”

You think back to the stuffy restaurant, the man sitting from across from you - how wrong it felt. And all it took were those four words for you to realize that. “I said no.” 

Satoru snaps his head up, stepping close - so close. Voice strained like he wasn’t asking - begging. Praying, “Why?”

“We…” you raise a brow at the way Satoru flinches as you trail off. So desperate. A smirk makes its way onto your face, “...we haven’t divorced yet, right?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you. 

Fuck, you don’t know - nor do you really care right now. Not when Satoru’s got his lips crashing against yours for the fifth time in your life, kissing you like it would be the last. Big arms dipping down to your waist, pulling you so tight against his muscled frame that he had half the mind to wonder whether it hurt. 

“Love this. Love the way you kiss me- fuck-” he’s spitting against your lips, kicking the door shut behind him. “Oh- would ya get mad if I-” he tries to get out through kisses. Only to suck on your pretty lips with a pained grunt. “If I-” Again and again, like it killed him to part. “-hah- celebrated right now?”

“Yes.” You’re letting the bouquet fall to the foor, white-knuckling that useless, drenched excuse of a shirt. “Now kiss me properly, Toru.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Such a sloppy mix of teeth and hands and him. Shoving a knee between your legs, making up for years and years of late nights with nothing but his fist and the pretty thought of you. 

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.” Satoru breathes out, as your urgent fingers that dispose of his shirt, feeling the gorgeous dips and curves of years of hard work to impress you. “Suck on m’tongue pretty- fuck-” His own fisting your shirt, pulling. Ripping.

“Toru!”

“I want you.” He’s letting the poor, tattered pieces drop in a pile on the floor, trailing a hand between your damp thighs before he can stop himself. “Oh how I’ve wanted you. And I don’t care if I have to buy fifty new outfits to make up for it.”

And it’s the feeling of his long index stroking up your sopping slit through your shorts that has you pulling away with a gasp. Delicate little strings of saliva snapping from Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips. “If we continue like this…” your voice wavers as he presses hot kisses along your collarbone. “-my brother’s gonna walk in.”

“...wouldn’t wanna relive that playground kiss, huh?”

It’s all he says before picking you up so easily, hands resting on your ass. Giving a playful spank ass you wrap your legs around his toned waist. 

And it’s sloppy.

Both his lips still hotly on yours and the way he’s stumbling urgently to your room through pure muscle memory. Pulling away only when you’re all splayed out so prettily for him on your mattress.

“Blue?” he breathes, pulling your shorts off. And it comes out strained - like the very sight of your panties - all soaked and flimsy with your slick - has whatever’s remaining of Satoru’s sanity flying out the window. “Blue? Oh, you’ve gotta have planned this, you little minx.” his hot breath hits your cunt as he shifts down the bed, tongue drawing languid, wet little circles on your inner thigh. “Because don’t tell me this was all for him?”

It was coincidence - or maybe fate - but that doesn’t stop you from giving Satoru a slow, teasing nod. Muttering out, “So what if it was?”

The only answer you get is thumb hooked around your shorts, pulling it just enough so that your brother’s best friend can spy your pretty pussy.

“Well then.” he chuckles at the way you jump when his fingertip just barely grazes your clit. “Guess I jus’ hafta prove m’better.”

A low groan is falling from his lips as soon as they meet your puffy ones, giving your pretty clit a chaste peck. Lingering long enough that he’s sure your sweet sweet juices cover his mouth.

And oh Satoru’s sure he’ll never forget the way your jaw falls slack, glassy eyes following his every move as he runs his tongue along his glossy lips. Savoring your candied taste, “Never kissed you like this before, huh?” 

Fuck, you’re sweeter than he’s imagined.

You whine desperately, something that has him smirking smugly, “Hah, what? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re better when you shut up.” It’s all you can do to buck your hips into Satoru’s pretty face - not that you had to, because one taste of your dripping cunt and he was addicted. Surging forwards until he was nose-deep, locking your ankles around his head with a firm yank.

And you can’t lie - maybe you’ve imagined this exact scene a few times before on those lonely nights. But you just never expected Satoru to be so depraved. Desperate.

“Ngh- fuck, Toru-” you reach a hand down to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his face up. But Satoru doesn’t stop - not even for a second. Tongue still dipping to spread your swollen folds with his tongue, looking you right in the eyes as he murmurs a strangled, “Mhm?” 

“Thought you were gonna prove you’re better, hm?”

So goading. So like you. 

At this, Satoru pulls back ever-so-slightly to laugh - laugh. His plump, glistening lips curling into a humorless little grin, “Oh I will.” Thumb circling your throbbing clit. Just dragging your twitching body across the silky sheets close to his, one hand pinning your hips down. Hard. “I will.”

Loving his new favorite place between your legs one hand toys with your clit, quick, messy little patterns. Tongue even more so. 

“Not just better.” he grunts, “Gonna make you cum so much harder, too.” Having your thighs shake with each word hissed out into your cunt, each turn of his deft fingers. “Till I’m the only thing on your mind. Me.”

And it’s all you can do to let out choked up groans of his name, back arching off the plush mattress to let him make out with your cunt deeper. Sloppier. So, so starved with the way he’s speeding up, tongue dragging across your walls. In and out in and out in and-

“Fuck! Hngh-” you angle his head - and he lets you. “There- Toru-”

Honestly, you didn’t even have to tell Satoru - he could feel it. Could feel it in the way your plushy walls are squeezing his hot tongue so harsh, until it was almost difficult to fuck your pussy so sloppily. In the way you’re letting out such delicious whines each time he grazes against those sweet spots. 

“There? Hah- I know.” he pulls away to muse, and your cute, disappointed whine goes straight to his already rock-hard cock. “Did he?”

He didn’t. And you’re shaking your head so pathetically - in a way you’d be embarrassed about usually. 

But that’s the last thing you’re thinking bout because you feel it - the cold, sinful feeling of Satoru spitting on your filthy cunt. Once. Twice. Blue eyes widening in delight at the way the mess of spit and slick drip down your slit. 

“Cute.” his tongue smoothes over the slutty pool, and the only thing your delirious brain can make out now is a low moan of, “So? Who’s better?”

It’s all you can do to choke out a broken little, “T-T-” Face burning at the way he was so clearly enjoying your struggle. And, well, no matter painfully hard it made his dick - he had to go just a bit easy on his girl, right?

“Shhhh, s’alright.” you flinch as he shoves two absolutely drenched fingers into your mouth, making so much more of a mess of it than necessary. Drinking in your cute gags, “I was asking her.” He’s making your head spin with the way he’s speeding up. “N’ she’s hah- very talkative.” Words muffled, and slurring together - like he was drunk off of you and your cunt. “Let’s hear what she has to ngh- say, huh?”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and squeezing into your sloppy entrance - like he couldn’t - didn’t - want to make up his mind. Oh, with your teary mewls strangled, the sound of Satoru making out with cunt is so loud. The squelches so obscene. 

“Fuuuuck.” he drawls. “Louder than I thought. I think she says I’m better, don’t you think?” 

You angle your head just right to catch the way his jaw grinds deeper into you, eating you out like his last meal. Your slick drooling down his chin so sinfully. 

“Ngh- fuck fuck fuck- ngh-” your yelps are dreamy, feeling like you were losing your mind with the way he was stretching you out. 

Like you were about to snap. Any second now. 

But Satoru’s only increasing his movements, drawing out your little moans. “And I think she’s saying…”  Getting sloppier. More erratic - and it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up now, cock aching with the need to be inside you. “-that she’s about to cum.”

You do - so hard and loud - both you and your cunt. 

You’re shaking, all but gushing all over Satoru’s mouth, tight pussy squeezing his tongue so hard. Barely even realizing the searing grip you’ve got on his hair as you drag your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

But Satoru doesn’t mind - he gladly welcomes it, in fact. Tonguefucking your snug cunt senselessly, letting you chase your high as roughly as you wanted. Over and over.

Even when you’re vision isn’t as spotty as before, even when nothing’s coming out of your mouth but little whimpers. Your breathing dying down until all that rings in your barely-lucid mind were those obscene noises of Satoru’s lips all on yours. 

“T-Toru-” you whine, big fat tears pricking at your hazy eyes. “M’so sensitive.”

And of course this is Satoru, the same boy who’s been pushing your buttons for years just to giggle at your adorable reactions. Which is why he grins against your twitching cunt, “So?”

It takes everything in you to raise your head off the pillow that just seemed to be swallowing you whole, and even more to shoot Satoru a half-hearted glare. “So m’gonna ngh- assume you’re jus’ a pussy with a s-smaller dick than-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence - he doesn’t let you. Because Satoru’s fumbling with his belt, peeling off those still-drenched pants just enough for you to admire his clothed erection. 

And, shit, admittedly you expected him to have a big dick - having been subjected to way too much locker room talk with your brother - but this was ridiculous. 

“What? Too big?” He flashes you that infuriating grin. Palming his rock-hard cock through his boxers at the way your beautiful eyes trace the outline of his cock, all swollen and big. So intimidatingly big. “Damn, sweetheart, if I knew that this was how I’d get that feisty lil’ mouth of yours to shut up then I’d have done it a lot sooner.” 

And you don’t even know if you’re breathing, the pads of your fingers dancing along his bulge. Tracing those prominent veins. Thumbing that little damp spot at his fat head. “You wouldn’t have.” 

He hisses as your soft hands dip into the hem of his underwear. Voice cracking slightly, “I wouldn’t.”

Then you’re gasping - in sync with Satoru’s low moan - as you finally let him spring free. Thick cock hitting his sculpted abs, red tip smearing precum in a lewd little pool. Weeping and so so angry at the sight of you.

At the heavenly feeling of your thumb teasing under his sensitive slit, “Oh, shit.” 

He’s throwing his head back when you give an experimental pump, all the way from his pretty tip to the tufts fo white at his hilt. Fist gliding all over the thumping veins. Bucking his hips up like such a slut into your touch. 

“O-oh fuck.” he cracks an eye open at the way your hand looked so small compared to his dick, how well you were taking care of him. “Been ngh- dreaming of this since I learned what handjobs were, y’know? Hah- shit- ya gotta stop before I fuckin’ pass out.”

And Satoru thinks he could cum right then and there at the way you’re bringing your soaked index up to your mouth. Batting your lashes as you suck on them with a lewd pop! “From jus’ that?”

“You have no idea.”

That’s all it takes for Satoru to throw your still-quivering thighs over his shoulders, effectively shutting up whatever tease is on the tip of your sharp tongue by kissing your swollen folds with his fat head. Giving it one, long drag. 

Your mouth is sagging open at the slow, torturous teasing. The sheer anticipation that had your mouth running, “S-so much for ah- jus’ being ‘friends’, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” And you’re flinching from Satoru’s deep, dark tone. The way he’s bracing his fingers so bruisingly on your hips, reeling all the way back till his tip was just kissing your hole. “We stopped being friends the day you married me on that playground.” 

And then he’s slamming in - pushing past that first, feeble ring of resistance, gummy walls stretching out so perfectly for him. As if he fit right in - and he tells you that. Pants it into your open mouth a little over fifteen times, in fact. 

“Shiiiit, look at you.” he can’t tear his eyes away from the side of your lips stretching so wide to try and milk him. Sloppy entrance stretching out like magic. “S’like you’re made for me, huh? This pussy is made f’me?”

“Ngh- fuck, Toru! S’too big-” you keen, feet flattening on the mattress. As if to escape. To maybe fucking breathe.  

Not even half-way in yet, but aleady torn between pushing away and sinking yourself down on his swollen cock for more more more-

“Don’t you dare run away.” he warns, looking up at you through his long lashes. “I’ve waited too long for this. N’ you’re not taking this pretty pussy away any time soon.” Inch by fucking inch. Grinding in short, sharps jabs - no rhythm of rhyme, like they were genuinely out of control. “Way too f-fuckin’-” All the way until your puffy folds was meeting his hilt. Finally. All the way in. “-long.”

And once Satoru had you split apart on his dick - had those tears rolling down your cheeks, cunt swallowing him so sluttily - it’s like something snaps. 

Because he doesn’t waste a second - he’s already wasted almost two decades, anyway - filling you up with his mean hips. Not fucking easing you into it because you always did bring out that part of him, the part that him looping two strong arms around your waist. Pulling. 

“Oh- f-fuck c’mere.” Satoru gasps, pressing your body so crushingly against his. Kissing your shaky shoulers, your sweaty forehead, the gentleness so contrasting to his hips.“God I’ve missed out- fuck fuck fuck-” 

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru - campus sex symbol - so uncomposed. Eyes half-lidded, just boring into yours, mouth slack in a soft oh! as he drags his cock all over inside your gummy walls. And the sight is so heavenly that you make the mistake the mistake of cracking a minute smile.

Just barely curling your lips before - “Don’t smile at me like that.” He’s dipping down a hand to roll your ravaged clit between two bullying fingers. “Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me. Right?”

You keen at the- stimulation? The strech? The sheer embarrassment as you realize that Satou’s still talking to your sloppy pussy? Nodding so mockingly up at you as he plows on, “Mhm, she says you needa be ngh- knocked down a god, you’re tight- peg or two. So- get- ready-” 

He’s using this as an excuse to sit up on his knees, dragging you onto his lap so easily like some ragdoll. 

“That’s more like it.”

You’re sliding deeper down his painfully hard cock - all the way till his heavy balls rest beneath your ass, clit rubbing against his pelvis every time he bounces you like some slut.  

Deep. Ruthless.

“Keep your eyes open, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you’re screwing open your eyes that you don’t even remember shutting. Trying so hard to stop crying out at the feeling of the curve of his dick massaging your walls. “Ya gotta hngh- see the o-only one who’d fuckin’ you properly, right?”

You squeal when he’s taking your clit captive once more. Finger quick, deft. “Y-yes.”

But that wasn’t enough for Satoru - it might as well never be. Because he’s only ramming his hips up further. Like he’s pushing into your stomach, your lungs, all the way into your cockdrunk brain. Fat head alternating between kissing your poor, abused cervix and all those sweet spots he’d mapped out with his tongue.

“Sounded unsure to me.” he’s pouty against your hardened nipples bouncing enticingly in his face. Fingers quirking faster on your clit, “Maybe I should ngh- stop then?”

“No!” Your hips stutter against Satoru’s. Nails clawing down the sculpted panes of his shoulders, leaving red angry marks for him to take as a sign tomorrow morning that no, it wasn’t just one of his dreams this time. “No no no- m’sure. You’re the only one makin’ me feel this way.”

You can feel the way he’s twitching wildly at your words, dick thumping harder inside your sensitive cunt. 

He punctures each word with a heavy, calculated thrust. Hand stretching and squeezing open your cunt from behind to let him slide impossibly deeper. “Hmmm, I’m not convinced.” 

Your stupid mouth is only capable of letting out broken, choked-up little moans of his name, ankles locking around those dimples at the end of his spine. “S’you–”

“Still not convinced.”

But he’s still speeding up his movements, just dragging you up and down his cock. “Who else made you hah- feel this good?” Sure to claim you from the inside out - to leave marks everywhere. Heavy balls on your ass, weeping tip on your cervix, lips bruised as you whimper at his murmured, “That ex of yours?” Biting down your neck, “That barista that always flirts with you?” Pulling away only to breathe into your lips, “Who?”

“ I- fuck it’s only you, Toru.”

“Sound convincing to you?” Satoru hums down at your cunt, biting his lower lip at the way you were milking him so good. Your slick soaking him all the way down to his balls - so needy in a way he never thought he’d see. “Yeah-” be breathes, nosing at your neck. “She agrees- fuck does this tight lil’ pussy of yours agree.” A few tears, a few gorgeous marks down his back, and he was finally convinced. “You’re mine.”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming, and Satoru doesn’t either.

Both of you too caught up in each other to recognize that familiar, white-hot pleasure running down your spine - all the way down to where he was so mercilessly buried in your cunt.  

And you’re well into the blood roaring deafeningly in your ears, the sight of Satoru - all wrecked - blurring as he fucks his hips up. Harsh. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he paints your quivering walls white. 

Cumming and cumming so hard that you can feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making such a mess all over Satoru’s lap. Your poor, overfilled cunt soon bloated and unable to keep up with it.

“Toru–” you whine, like a prayer. Milking the fucking soul out of him while he gently paws at your messy hair.

“Shhh, I know I know, sweetheart.” Such a stark contrast to the way he was filling you up like his favorite sex toy. Not even bothering to move anymore, one hand on your hip, moving your limp body up and down his sensitive cock to fuck it deeper. The other still playing with your clit, “S’alright, my girl”

Satoru’s hands never leave you, and he prays that now that he got a taste - well, you better be alright with them not leaving you for as long as he lives.

“As long as you live, huh?” you chuckle groggily, a noise so dreamy that Satoru can’t even be mad that he said it out loud. “And all that riling me up these years. Do you have a degradation kink or something?”

“Well, only one way to find out~”

“Oh shut up you-”

SLAM!

“Yooo, I bought dinner from that- WHAT THE FUCK?”

There were only two more lessons to be learned:

Always lock the door. Always. And in case you don’t, a bouquet of lollipops will do the trick to a Suguru reeling from the newest addition to the family. 

Cheap takeout tastes better with an apologetic Suguru, and an ice pack to his cheek - and you to kiss it better.

A/N. Can you tell I kept listening to that one Artemas song while writing this?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[ki-yomii]

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.4k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; fwb, angst w/ a happy ending, teasing, finger fucking, squirting, praise kink, frottage, dirty talk, pet names, commitment issues, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, dom!jk, idiots in love, misunderstandings ➥ summary | after being stood up one too many times, you realize you're in love with jungkook. and that just won't do. ➥ notes | istg i've re-written this more times than i care to count 💀 enjoy!

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cnt make it 2nite

The text is blunt - biting. No explanation offered, and certainly no false platitudes found in the lifeless string of black letters. Rather simple and straight to the point.

As you should have expected from Jungkook. He wasn’t known for his verbosity, and even less so for his love of texting.

But as you chew the fat of your cheek, reading it over and over again in an attempt to glean some hidden meaning that isn’t there, you admit to yourself - at least privately - there’s no more avoiding the truth.

One that’s been hovering over your shoulder for weeks like a shroud; an unwelcome guest you can’t ignore anymore: Jungkook’s been avoiding you.

It shouldn’t be surprising.

Moreover, it shouldn’t hurt.

There shouldn’t be an ache in your chest every time you see his contact or the plummet of your stomach when that inevitable excuse comes through.

In the end, he owes you nothing. The arrangement between you is casual, just a little fun between good friends.

It still fucking sucks though, you think, sucking your teeth.

Night thoroughly ruined before it’s begun, it’s only a matter of deciding how to respond now. In the past you’ve used a plethora of options, but you’re stumped. Unsure how to correlate the level of hurt to the nature of your not-relationship.

Should you be petty, passive-aggressive, indifferent - or worst of all: honest?

Hah, no way. I’d rather die.

Beside you, the bartender politely averts his gaze and busies himself with polishing a stack of pint glasses. It’s a slow night, and that’s saying something as this bar’s a little hole in the wall.

It’s never overly busy, which is one of the reason’s it’s a favorite meeting spot of yours. The floors might be sticky, but the music’s decent, the strobe lights they kick on after 10 PM aren’t offensive enough to induce a migraine, and the drinks are cheap with a heavy pour.

Watching him work is impressive - and almost distracting enough for you to ignore the needle sharp ache taking root beneath your ribs, the churn of your stomach.

Humiliation burns hot, creeps up your neck to settle into the apples of your cheeks as you’re stood up.

Again.

It isn’t the first time - it won’t be the last.

But it cuts deeper than all the rest combined, harder to shake off. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. The growing distance between you throbs like an open wound, as if Jungkook himself plunged a hand into your chest.

Scooped out any tender, soft thing he could find and left you hollowed out. Drained.

Not taking his flakiness personally used to be so easy. And now… well.

Goddamnit. A palm scrubs over your decolletage roughly to soothe the throb of your heart. What the hell did you expect to happen, getting involved with Jeon Jungkook, huh?

Everything from his stupidly pretty eyes to the dangerous curl of his mouth, the thick soles of his boots to the lapels of his leather jacket scream walking red flag.

Never mind the fact his proclivities are an open secret among the group. He’s never tried to hide his distaste for commitment. Finds it too monotonous. Predictable.

An eternally free soul much preferring to flit from one experience to the next, never shackled down for long. The Icarus of myth made flesh.

He runs through women like he runs through shoes, and you witnessed enough of the ensuing heartbreak and tears to be wary.

But knowing and feeling something are two very different things.

The dichotomy throws you off-kilter and finds you abandoned in a bar, once again, to choke on a regret so bitter you swear it’ll burn a hole through your throat.

What’s going on with me, you think, this is nothing new. He does this all the time.

You used to get on so well.

Any initial misgivings faded away in the face of Jungkook’s blinding attention, his unfaltering kindness lurking just beneath that surface of grit and gravel.

Even after you fuck, he never acts any differently, as casual between the sheets as he is lounging on your couch.

It's been great, it's been enough - until now.

Just the thought of going back to your empty apartment, alone, only to wake up and fall back into Jungkook’s orbit tomorrow when he swings by with a half-assed apology on his lips, and your favorite drink in hand is enough to make your skin crawl.

Stomach twisting itself into knots, everything in you rebels against the sudden cold realization: nothing will change - least of all Jungkook.

He’ll continue to take-take-take.

You'll continue to give-give-give.

On and on you'll go; a distant star orbiting a black hole, losing little bits of itself until there's nothing left.

Then he’ll leave your life as quickly as he entered it, a blurry after-image there and gone in the blink of an eye.

Fuck, I - I can’t do this anymore, you think, a shiver rattling down your spine, Because I…

An errant thought gains teeth, sinks them deep. Refuses to budge as an awful truth - one buried so deep you forgot it was there, ever lurking in the shadows - rises to the forefront of your mind.

And then --

Oh.

It’s because I love him - because I’m in love with him.

Suddenly it hurts to breathe, your lungs burning as you drown on the air itself. The steel band cinching around your ribs threatens to crack you open.

Your heart lurches in your chest, despair following swiftly to settle over your shoulders. Moreover, there is no one to blame except yourself.

Even if you want it to, it will never work out because loving Jungkook is to love the ghost of a long-forgotten memory.

And there are too many hurts to soothe, too many disappointments to name.

I can’t believe I actually -- shit. You swipe a shaky hand over your forehead. When you swallow, a sour taste clings to the back of your tongue. Should’ve known better.

You glance at your phone, the cursor blinking back at you mockingly. Should’ve done a lot of things, I guess.

Now, you're in too deep.

Waiting without ever realizing you began to do so in the first place; a life on pause, surviving off scraps of half-measures and maybe's, what-ifs, and if only's.

Now, it's clear the only way out is through.

The time to let go is here.

You need to muster up some semblance of self, and work to untangle the threads of connection binding you together. You need space to rediscover the pieces of your heart you left with him.

How to live without the taste of his kiss, the clench of his muscles, the thrust of his cock.

A new life sans Jungkook which begins with a simple reply in place of everything you really want to say: ok.

Then you wave the bartender over.

He does you a kindness once more, pretending not to notice the tears brimming along your lower lash line. “You ready to order?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah - sorry, I was…”

His mouth twitches. You waver.

Then the screen of your phone lights up with a notification.

Refusing to look lest you cave, emotions too fresh -  scraped raw and tender, you switch on DND and turn it face down where it will remain until you go home.

You're far too fragile (and sober) to think about reading Jungkook’s reply, let alone engage with him in any meaningful way.

“I’ll take a double vodka cranberry.”

Maybe if you get drunk enough, you'll forget about the home he carved in your bones.

Bottoms up, bitch.

w8 nvm guys cnt make it

y/n?

i cn b ovr in 10

???

gn ttyt

hey, sorry. called it early.

wyd?

nothing much. you?

nm running some mtchs

cool, cool. you able to swing by today?

yeh b there in 30 :)

In hindsight, trying to have this conversation with Jungkook face to face isn’t the brightest idea. But if anything, last night showed you every choice you’ve made lately is a disaster waiting to happen.

Your life’s already a mess - and you’re hopelessly in love with a man that’ll never love you back - so what’s another mistake added to a long string of misfortune.

So what if your hands tremble and your stomach churns as you unlock the door to let him in.

So what if he leans in for a kiss and you duck to the side, his lips brushing the slope of your cheek.

So what if he pauses and gives you a long, searching look before toeing off his shoes and offering you the drink he picked up on the way.

It can’t get any worse, right?

Only the hungry, molten mixture of rage and rebellion fueling you thus far fizzles away the minute you see him head towards your bedroom with a wink.

Anguish and despair follows in its wake, nipping at your heels.

This is all you’ll ever be to him, you remind yourself as you step into the room. A fun time. Nothing serious. You have to break it off.

You shoot him a tight smile. “Did you have a good night?”

Jungkook shrugs, glancing around at the decorations littering your dresser. “Nah, not really.” His gaze slides to you, traveling from your head to your bare toes in a slow once over. “I definitely would’ve had a better time with you.”

Swallowing roughly, you rub your hands over your arms and suddenly feel far too naked - exposed in your light summer dress. “Hah,” you intone without humor, awkward and stilted. “Probably not. I was out by 11:30.”

“Mm, that’s not like you.” Jungkook hums, moving forward until he’s right in front of you. His hands reach for you, grabbing your wrists gently. His thumb strokes over your pulse point. “You’re acting weird. Is there something you want to talk about, baby?”

Of course he’d notice.

It would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing. Jungkook always pays attention to the details, makes leaps of logic based on little more than quiet observations.

You stitch together a chuckle. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins, his lip ring dimpling the swell of his bottom lip. Your chests brush with every inhale, sharing space and breath. 

“Nothing,” he agrees.

It’s torture. It’s too intimate.

The glow of your overhead lamp highlights the sweep of his cheekbones, the curl of his lashes as he blinks slow and happy. The barely there impression of his body is too much.

You shrink back, clearing your throat.

“No, don’t do that. Where are you going?”

His eyes, shimmering with warmth, plead with you to stay, his shoulders curving towards you. A large palm settles over your shoulder, sparks igniting wherever he touches.

“Stop hiding. You can talk to me about anything. Come on, I want to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Steeling your resolve, you inhale and exhale with a shudder. His expression is open, soft. You know it won’t last, and take a few seconds to commit how he looks in this moment to memory.

For all you know, this will be one of the last times you’ll be this close to him again. At least until you can beat your feelings into submission.

And then you can’t put it off anymore, unable to take the ginger strokes of his fingers. The calming caresses as if he thinks you’re something precious. Quick like ripping off a band-aid, otherwise the words will never get past the bend of your throat.

“I want to stop.”

You catch the way his eyes darken, sharpen in the dim overhead light. He knows exactly what you’re talking about, but his half-smile never falters.

Of course, he refuses to make this easy on you. To acknowledge this is happening. He’s always been a greedy man; wants what he can’t have, and destroys what he does.

“Stop what?” Jungkook says. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, baby.”

“Kook,” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “You know what I mean. I just - I can’t do,” your voice cracks, a hand motioning to the space between you, “this anymore.”

A vein throbs on the side of his neck, his jaw working in response. Muscles tense and release with every grit of his teeth. He asks, “You gonna tell me why, huh? Or are you just going to ditch me and act like it didn’t mean something?”

“Kook…”

There’s a certain grief that can’t be spoken, gnarled roots burrowing deep in your chest. A sense of loss so keenly felt it almost steals your breath.

You wish this wasn’t happening, you wish you could take it all back but this pantomime of a relationship isn’t fair to you. Not anymore. And you knew this conversation wouldn’t be fun, but Jungkook’s staunch denial still manages to surprise you.

“It didn’t mean anything though,” you say.

At least, not to you, you think. To me, it meant the world.

-- And that’s the problem.

You need to stop whatever this is between you from building. He’s already shown he doesn’t share your desire for more in a multitude of ways. He’s been avoiding you for a reason, whether he was consciously aware of your feelings or not.

Undoubtedly, you trust him with your life but not your heart.

As sweet as he is, has been, he won’t treat it gently. Not through any intentional ill-will but because he can’t contain his own commitment issues let alone make room for yours.

It’s better this way.

Let what you have - had - stay a memory unmarred by the ugliness of your hurt feelings and bitter disappointments.

Jungkook’s shoulders draw up towards his ears, his gaze glacial as his hands slide away from you. “Is there a reason you’re done with me now?”

Shadows lurk in the depths of his eyes, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. Everything about him looks weighted down.

“Well, is there? I mean, shit, I think I’ve earned an answer after all the time we spent together.”

Your heart breaks for him, everything in you calling out to close the gap and offer him comfort. But you can’t. You don’t trust yourself to touch him without wanting more than your heart can bear.

“I’m not done with you,” you say. “I would never do that to you, Kook. I just - I can’t be with you like that anymore, that’s all. I need space but I’ll still be around, I promise.”

The glare he shoots your way freezes the blood in your veins. “Cut the bullshit,” he snarls. “Tell.me.why.”

You avert your gaze, arms wrapping around your chest. “Why does that - I -”

You only had one rule at the very beginning of this mess: if there’s someone you’re serious about, you stop fucking. It comes as a handy lie - a believable excuse that’ll stop any further questioning.

You don’t think you have the fortitude if Jungkook keeps pressing you, cracking under the weight of your grief and the anger in his eyes like fine china.

“I think I - I think I want to start looking for a boyfriend again.”

An expression flashes across his face, there and gone in the blink of an eye. But there’s no doubt he recognizes it for the goodbye it’s supposed to be.

This is it, you think.

You can put what you had to rest and move on, a memory on a shelf you’ll dust off years down the line when the hurt isn’t so prevalent. And hopefully, with time, you can relearn how to be friends.

Though the strange gleam to his eyes sends a prickle of apprehension down your spine, and then you find yourself being manhandled as he snaps forward like a snake coiled to strike.

Air flees your lungs as Jungkook shoves you with a firm palm, your feet stumbling over themselves as you trip backwards into your bed frame.

Wood knocks into the backs of your knees, and you fold like a stack of cards. The sheets puff out around you, the scent of your laundry detergent tickling your nose.

You blink at the textured ceiling, mouth agape as you try to process what happened.

The empty space above you doesn’t stay vacant, Jungkook quickly crowding you into the mattress with his weight as he settles over top of your body.

He molds himself to your front, his firm hips slotting themselves between your thighs. Broad palms, warm and calloused, skim your sides and ruck up the skirt of your dress as he reaches under you to grip the soft globes of your ass.

He yanks you into him, your pelvises slotting together. You whine before you can stop yourself, eyes fluttering shut at the heat of his body.

Teeth scrape along the delicate skin of your neck, the sharp pricks of pleasure-pain coaxing a shiver down your spine.

Lips brush the shell of your ear, his minty breath puffing against the side of your face as he speaks, low and husky, “So that’s it, huh?”

“What--!”

Teeth nip your earlobe, and you wince.

“My girl thinks she’s going to leave me for someone else?” Jungkook snorts. “Like I’d ever let that fucking happen.”

“I’m not your girl.”

You squirm, a bolt of awareness slicing through you as your body responds to his proximity, the weight of him over you electrifying. Liquid desire blooms behind your navel, uncomfortable and unwelcome.

“I never was.”

Blunt nails dig into the fat of your ass, and a cruel mouth latches onto the corner of your jaw. “Ah, is that right?” Jungkook asks, the rumble of his voice vibrating through your torso, your nipples tightening as they drag over the plains of his chest. “You’re not my girl?”

You swallow, and ignore the throb of your clit as the line of his cock ruts into you. “I’m not your girl, Jungkook.”

“If you’re not my girl,” he grinds into the cradle of your hips, teasing - taunting, “then why the fuck are you so wet?”

Keening, you twitch, involuntarily rocking up into the firm pressure of his shaft. The angle’s just right, spreading your folds beneath the thin cotton of your panties and giving your neglected clit the perfect stimulation.

Exposing your soaked core to the chill of your room as your body warms with mortification.

Jungkook hums in approval, giving the side of your neck a sloppy kiss followed by a stinging nip. “You think some nobody can fuck you better than me?”

“That’s not what I - ffuck!”

Heat pools low in your belly, blood pumping fast. You’re steadily losing control, the aborted rolls of your hips increasing in frequency.

“Answer me.”

A sharp burst of copper floods your mouth, your skin splitting open with how hard you’re chewing on it. Blood clings to the swell of your bottom lip, a ruby red bead you lick away with a nervous tongue.

Sweat dappled your brow, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the molten desire curdling your stomach.

The softness of your body knows the hardness of his, every curve has a matching divot. The heady, pleasant scent of his cologne floods your lungs with every stuttered inhale.

Your senses are overwhelmed as he surrounds you.

“Shit, Kook, please,” you plead, hands tangling in the sheets by your head.

You’re not sure what you’re asking for but at the same time, you’re not sure how you ended up here. Again.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

This was supposed to be an amenable end to a dubious affair. It’s anything but.

“I want you to tell me who your cunt belongs to.”

Fingers inch down to tease along the soft flesh of your inner thighs, and play with the elastic of your panties.

You tremble, gooseflesh dimpling the exposed skin of your arms as knuckles brush over the length of your soaked pussy.

Your clit pulses, the pressure enough to tease.

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook coaxes, working his way beneath the fabric clinging to your core, “tell me you’re my girl.”

His cock nestles into the crook of your hip, hot and heavy through his jeans as a darkened patch blooms across the denim crotch. The sticky wetness of his pre-cum smearing into your skin as arousal swells, crashing over you.

Leaving you a whimpering, trembling mess in the cage of his arms.

“You just have to say it - say you’re my girl and I’ll be so, so good to you.” His breath warms the shell of your ear. “All you have to do is say it, and I’ll make you cum so hard you see stars.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to cobble together a response, sliding a thick finger through your sticky folds and into your needy pussy just as your lips part.

All words leave you, your mind wiped clean as a low, broken cry echoes out into the room. Swallowed up by the sounds of city life outside your apartment as he works to stretch you open.

You clamp down at the sudden fullness, walls tight and fluttering around his finger like they would be around his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You always feel so soft and wet.”

Whining in agreement, you give up any pretense of resistance, letting primal desire chase away the despair, the guilt that threatens to choke you. Wiping your mind clean of any thoughts until the only thing that remains is the thrust of his fingers and the ache in your cunt.

Your hands slip, scrambling for purchase with sweaty palms. “J-Jungkook!”

Your knees tremble where they dig into his sides, air rushing from you in heavy pants as the space between your bodies heats up. You know you won’t last long, already hanging on the edge.

Never in a million years did you expect to be so turned on by Jungkook’s rough behavior. He usually treats you like something delicate.

Though he holds no such compunction now, raw in his desperate desire to make you cum.

Jungkook peppers kisses onto whatever skin he can reach, spreading your thighs wider with his torso. His knuckles strain against the fabric of your panties, stretching out the cotton and ruining them forevermore as he slips another finger into you.

Then his dark head bows, catching your gaze, and he says, “Hold on.”

Barely seconds after you anchor yourself to his shoulders, he starts finger fucking you to within an inch of your life. His forearm ripples with strength, the movements of his fingers pressing and rubbing against all the right spots. Curling up to massage at your g-spot until you’re shaking beneath him with hitched breaths.

“Shit, shit,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as your toes flex against his side, “Kook, baby, please don’t stop.”

He huffs a laugh, dark and amused. “Wouldn’t ever do that to you, baby.”

“S’good - I - I’m close.”

You sob, tears brimming along your lash line. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your pussy ring in your ears, as embarrassing as it is arousing. He’s making you gush, slick wetting your inner thighs, dribbling down your ass to stain the sheets.

“So close, gonna - hnnng - gonna cum.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Just like that, baby. Give me that squirt.”

You shake your head. “I can’t - I can’t!”

If you could, you’d suspend time so this moment never ends. The finality of your arrangement hovering just on the other side of pleasure.

In the back of your mind, you know Jungkook’s only behaving this way because he’s jealous. Angry. He doesn’t mean it, and this is a mistake.

It’ll only hurt you in the long run but you’ll take what you can get.

After all, this is the last time you’ll be together like this.

“No,” he shushes, dropping a kiss to your sweaty brow, “No, don’t lie. I know you can. I’ll make you.”

There’s no escape.

He refuses to let you escape, using his weight to keep you pinned as he spreads his fingers open inside you, twisting and fucking so deep you feel a twinge behind your navel.

And then you’re right there, crashing over the edge as the bubble of pleasure bursts, crackling through your limbs.

You cum harder than you ever have before. Nails sinking into his shoulders with a hiss as a wounded, broken wail scrapes its way out of your throat.

Your pussy throbs, gummy walls sucking him deeper as a rush of cum gushes from you in spurts. Your ears ring with white noise, and you’re vaguely aware of the fact your hands have gone numb.

For several long moments, you float with a head full of cotton, only rejoining the atmosphere when warmth dribbles down your ass in sticky rivulets of squirt.

Jungkook’s arm is curled around your waist, holding you close as his nose nuzzles into the side of your head. Tender lips dust kisses over your crown. His cock is still a heavy weight digging into your hip but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to relieve himself.

“Jungkook,” you sigh, a wave of fatigue crashing over you. Your eyes sting when you close them, a lump building in your throat. You ache all over pleasantly, satisfaction settling deep into your bones. In spite of that, a rift opens in your heart. “Jungkook, I--”

He kisses your shoulder, shushing you. “Don’t ruin it. Just let me hold you for a little while longer… please.”

The tears are almost impossible to stop. “It’s already hard enough, don’t make me -- I can’t just…”

Jungkook squeezes you gently. “I love you,” he says, “but I swear to god you can be so stupid sometimes.”

You jolt, eyes swinging up to meet his, wide and disbelieving. “What did you just  - I - I  don’t. ..Jungkook?”

“How could I not feel the same?” he asks, tone resigned and wary. “Honestly scared the shit out of me when I realized because, well, y’know I don’t have the best track record.” He averts his gaze, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I almost fucked everything up too, but Namjoonie-hyung helped me get my head on straight.”

Something unfurls in your chest, and you feel as light as air. Ridiculously buoyant with happiness. Hope.

Oh, how stupid.

“We’re kind of idiots, aren’t we?” you ask, sniffling as you shoot him a watery smile. “Like… the biggest.”

Jungkook hums in agreement, a boyish gleam to his eyes. “I mean, you said it. Not me.”

[starcolle-archive]

tabula rasa; keep moving forward

I’ve made some friends on tinder so far; some want to play board games and some want to get in my pants. But I’m talking to this kid [21; obviously not a literal kid, but it feels like there’s over a decade between us] about his depression in how the public unconsciousness is poisoned. (Speaking of which, I need to get back to writing the smut I was drafting while drinking. The guy’s getting pegged while he talks about parasocial relationships being deliberate creations of class based society; used to alleviate the rising temper of the inevitable clashing mentalities prevalent among the public unconsciousness. Obviously I’m not gonna do it justice in any way in a tumblr post, so I’ll keep it top myself for now.)

And as all the thoughts raise through my head, agreeing with him on how neoliberialism’s schadenfreude is morally decrepit, I’m reminded about our discussion(s) about tabula rasa and what it means to be one’s authentic self. Yeah, sure, ALL the kinky shit we talked about was fun, but it was always the intellectual discussions that I’ve missed most. Sure I may have been the moody sarcastic asshole at time, but I was always sincere with my interest in discussions & our intertwined betterment; no matter the topic.

So I guess that’s another reason why I’m reminding myself to keep moving forward like I used to tell you. I’m finally replying to my new therapist. it shouldn’t have taken me this long, but I’m so exhausted that I’m just now getting around to it.

Why am I even writing this? You don’t read it, and it’s already inside my head. I guess it is good to get it out, even if it makes me feel psychotic (I should probably get my psychiatrist to up my anti-psychotic, shouldn’t I? ...I jest; moistly, er, I mean mostly.)

[This is where I’d insert the sound of an hour long groan that you can’t tell if it’s the byproduct of a bad pun or from something else I might say; I’m hyper-aware except for when I need it most after all.]

[saltedpineapple]

So JJK is over and my LMK brainrot is back , added with the fact i am playing a MOBA game and am being blessed with delicious illustrations it prompted me to make this

Now i am going to ramble about this because this is the first time in forever where i kinda pushed myself to make a FULL art piece-

I will be standing for this-

Let me tell you, i had no confidence in this and the composition was supposed to be way different, but this still happened. This took two days because i kept procrastinating , walking around my room dreading drawing the background BIG ADVICE FOR BEGINNER ARTISTS Watch speedpaints. You will learn so much by watching the process and that was this for me I have the tendency to kinda burn myself out and finish everything in a day and then never actually finishing. Tried something different for this and made a cheap silhouette of a sketch, then drew over that and used greys and whites fort the shadows. Then i think i colored everything in a base color (and i finally used a palette) and then i tried to find the lighting and shadow colours. It was weird. And what im saying is that i planned most of it instead of diving head in withour a plan. Crazy i know-

I also just learned about dpi PROPERLY and unfortunately made my piece so big that it kept stalling paint tool sai-

let me just post the progress shots

I also fucked up macaques reference and fixed it in a whim somewhere. You can see it here. I honestly wasn't planning to follow the lmk at style but that kinda happens when you're starring too much at the references.

There's still a mess and i wanted to render it a bit better ,the way i normally do but i didn't. Anyways i did enjoy the process and i actually miss them so much and i might watch LMK all over again Especially Wukong and MK

Btw this was supposed to be a moving illustration and i just didn't

I have Live2D but no

(Btw please check out my profile if you have the chance and thank you for reading this! Love you-)

[1980shorrorfilm]

dreaming about you and me

using cailee as my ellie because it just makes sense

click here. resources for palestine, congo, sudan, and other countries.

pairing…ellie williams x gn!reader

in which…ellie moves back to jackson after a year, hoping you had waited for her.

before you read…angst. modern day fic. emo ellie. like biggg loser ellie. sad sad ellie. ellie has a cat. some bad words.

leaving the chaotic city and lousy job and miserable relationship should be exciting. being welcomed by the familiar wyoming weather, and warm embraces from joel and dina should be exhilarating.

but instead, ellie felt a vast emptiness that seemed to seep from the walls and settle deep within her. she felt alone— again.

her phone occasionally bings with an email while she waits for a text; from you. something she hasn’t received in 8 months.

not that she’s keeping count…or occasionally opens your messages to reread your happier conversations. it’s unfortunately one of the only things that helped her sleep at night, next to a girl she knew didn’t love her. not the way you do…or did.

you were friends. really really good friends.

friends that had to be invited to places together, or neither were going. friends that spent more time in each other’s bedrooms than their own. friends that slept skin to skin, no blanket being able to replicate the warmth the other gave.

friends that kissed the day ellie left; then never spoke about it again.

the occasional calls were long, and they were sweet. you asked ellie about everything and anything as she adjusted to her amazing new life.

her new place, that she was quick to inform you there’s a framed photo of you guys together on her nightstand. it’s from a summer bonfire when she had got high and used your very old camera until it ran out of storage. it's a great picture, though. you look so pretty in it, she reminds you.

she’d rant about her new job, her asshole of a boss, and her overly friendly coworker that somehow annoyed you more than her. the way she described the girl, how clingy she was to your ellie. but you would laugh it off, masking the jealousy with light-hearted jokes, daring not to show how much it truly bothered you.

then, a few weeks later, the worst had happened.

ellie suddenly had a girlfriend, and you suddenly had a broken heart.

you could only be happy for her. even if that meant your phone calls were picked up by another girl, telling you that ellie was busy. even if that meant your texts declined over time, cat memes being sent with only a laughing emoji in response. no genuine, heart-to-heart conversations. the ones you yearned for most on your loneliest nights.

and you had to be happy for ellie. even if she wasn’t for herself.

the worst part is, ellie noticed you begin to pull away, and she let you. she let you go.

now she sits here, on her cheap brown sofa, staring at the tv that has yet to be hooked up. phone in her hand, like an idiot waiting for something that’s not going to happen just because she wishes it would. she simply cannot manifest you to come back. she has to do something about it.

after seconds of contemplation, she curses to herself, grabbing the device and calling your number. which rings, and rings, and rings, up until voicemail. which she decides to leave.

“uh— hey, y/n,” she gets up, scratching the back of her neck, “im…im in jackson…for good,” she chuckles nervously, “if you want to catch up, im free the next couple of days. just let me know…um…bye.”

fucking dumbass, she thinks, ending it and dropping her phone on the couch behind her. the worst you can say is no.

ellie wished that were true.

the worst had happened, and it’s you ignoring her completely. days pass and there’s absolutely nothing from you. she hopes to see you around town, making sure she looks decent enough just to run and pick up groceries, but luck is not on ellie’s side.

a week home and she’s only seeing you in her imagination. flashbacks of the evening she left, a beautiful day before a horrid storm.

ellie is self-aware, she knows it’s pathetic to keep moving in place rather than moving on. pretending like you still care for her as she does to you, even if you have yet to communicate it.

she knows it’s wrong. and she can only mourn the idea of no longer having you for so long.

as told by joel, she should only focus on what she has control of. don’t know when he got the time to read a self-help book, but she listens to him. joel was usually right, she hates it sometimes.

he was the first one to see the sparkle in her eye when she spoke about you. even though she denied what he had thought you two were— he continued to tell her that you’re a good one, and not to screw it up.

she could only laugh about that now.

weeks pass, and her apartment feels more like a home now, unpacked with her little trinkets scattered around the place. the first damn thing she did was stick her glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of her bedroom because you know, priorities. she likes staring at them before bed, knowing you two used to do it together. homemade star gazing, you’d tell her.

her first few days working with joel at his construction company went well. it’s tiring, she comes home feeling like she went swimming in a bucket of sweat, but it’s a nice distraction. and a nice way to keep her arms toned. the summer sun caused her freckles to multiply over her shoulders and collarbones, something you used to admire.

dina and jesse have been spending time with her, smoking at one of the lakes in jackson while sitting in the back of her red pickup truck. a playlist will play lowly from the vehicle's speakers, a few songs she only learned because of you. songs you had told her reminded you of her. she finds herself humming along, the melodies bringing back memories that carve into the center of her heart.

she came home one night, very high, and saw a stray cat digging into a plastic bag filled with garbage. without thinking twice, she crouched down and called to the cat softly. it rubbed against her, and she fell in love. she threw the garbage out and brought the little creature inside. she now has a black cat named orion. the very first constellation she taught you about amongst the many.

it’s hard, the constant reminders of you in little day-to-day things, but ellie gets passed it.

slowly, but surely, she’s finding herself; without you. it’s healthy. it’s good. she’s good.

it’s a random tuesday night when her phone vibrates while she’s getting off work, the woman pulling it out of her pocket while wiping the grim from her forehead. a message, from you.

would you wanna meet up tomorrow?

her heart beats out of her chest, leaning against the chipping paint on her truck. she can’t help it— she responds right away.

yea, is my place cool?

ellie stares at the screen, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth, tapping her converse on the cement. when you don’t answer promptly, ellie sends another text.

we can do dinner, i can order a pizza. or a movie if you wanna.

you can probably read her tone through the screen, the desperation. but having you right there at that moment, she doesn’t care. especially when you agree— part of her not expecting you to.

ellie gets in her head, part of her convincing herself it was a date…ish…the humbling part of her telling her it was a casual hangout. it’s a win either way. she could see you for a mere minute and still be satisfied.

ellie went home that night, fed her sweet cat, and passed out on her messy bed.

with you in mind, of course.

the following day is long as fuck. she’s antsy, convincing joel to let her go early, organizing the most random shit in her apartment. you hadn’t even reached out yet, she doesn’t know when you’re gonna bless her with your presence.

she doesn’t know if you still like peppers on your pizza, but she orders it anyway. she doesn’t know if you want a romcom or a horror movie, so she finds options for both. she’s anxious, grabbing a beer from the fridge hoping it eases her somewhat.

ellie glances at her phone for the fiftieth time, worried she might have missed a text. she doesn’t. and as hours pass, she drinks more and more.

you never show up.

the full moon is up in the sky by this point. and once again, like deja vu, there is nothing from you. and it hurts.

her mind is foggy from the alcohol she occupied herself with while waiting for you, half of the untouched pizza is cold as it sits on her counter. her cat is watching her pace back and forth.

why? why would you lie to her? why would you get her hopes up after so long? she’s beyond upset. she’s pissed off. you’ve never made her feel this way.

then you text her.

can’t make it. im sorry

she huffs through her nose, shaking her head, then she calls you. which, you ignore, and you ignore again, and again. she keeps calling, she doesn’t care if she’s annoying you. in fact, she wants to. if that’s what it takes for you to acknowledge her.

it’s the tenth time when she listens to the automated voice speak to her, that she leaves a voicemail.

“hey, y/n, dunno if you remember me,” she laughs, scratching the back of her neck, “seems like you don’t. think im a stranger to you now. might as well be, you clearly don’t want to see me anymore— what the fuck —h-how could you? i-i get it, i messed up— i-i left —but im fucking trying here, y/n. and you have to make this so fucking hard for me.”

her voice is breaking, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and despite trying to hold them back, she can't stop them from falling. “we were friends…more than friends…y-you fucking kissed me before i left…or did you forget that? d-did that mean nothing to you? why did you do that? i thought about it for months…d-did you?”

ellie’s rage shifts to pain, catching her off guard. she clenches her jaw, struggling to keep her composure, then takes a deep, shaky breath.

“i-i just miss you…i miss you so bad it fucking hurts. i came back because of you, you know that? and i haven’t even seen you— it drives me crazy. im fucking losing my mind here, y/n. all i think about is you. i wish…i wish you felt the same…i don’t know how to get over you. just tell me how to. please— i’ll leave you alone. just tell me to.”

i’ll leave you alone. just tell me to.

ellie’s soft voice cracks, you dread it. many things bother you in this universe. one of them is bearing witness to ellie breaking down and not being able to comfort her.

you were the only one that could— the only one she felt comfortable expressing herself to. except now you are the cause of it. and that is the worst feeling in the world.

you pull your phone away from your ear, turn it off, and place it face down on the table before you. your dinner is still hot and untouched, your partner’s plate mirroring yours. they took a phone call nearly ten minutes ago, an unimportant one, but they valued anything and anyone else before you.

you don’t know why you’re here…why you ditched her for them. someone you love for someone you don’t. someone who needs you for someone who barely wants you.

a place to stay? a body to keep you warm at night? a person to bring home to your family? what’s the point? she’s home. she’s here. and she’s not out of touch, she’s within your grasp, yet you won’t commit to reaching out to her. why?

“mind putting that away for me? friend needs a favor,” your partner quickly says, already out the door before you could even question them or say goodbye.

you’re alone, but you’ve felt lonely in this dim house since the day you came here.

but nothing is keeping you here. you get up, not bothering to clean up the meal you spent an hour making, throwing on a jacket and grabbing your keys.

you drive to ellie’s place. it feels long, catching every red light and driving down roads with the lowest speed limits. you don’t even know if she’ll still be awake by the time you arrive, or if she even wants to see you anymore. but you need to see her.

you lazily park on the street, letting yourself into the building and knocking rapidly on her door. you can hear muffled music playing from inside her unit, then her footsteps.

“i’ll turn it down—” ellie barely opens the door, and doesn’t look at you, not until your hand is on the wood when she attempts to close it.

when she does, her eyes are bloodshot, and she freezes in place.

“can you let me in?”

she hesitates, not because she doesn’t want to, but rather she can’t believe a drunken voicemail had you at her doorstep so damn quick. she obeys, stepping aside, unable to look away from you. you’d do the same, but you’re too distracted by her home.

the fern green color scheme that compliments it, the framed rare trading cards on her shelves, a photo of astronaut cats on her wall that you had gifted her. so many things that made her, her. very nerdy, very adorable, things. and then you look at her, absolutely desolated before you.

“i…i thought…i thought you couldn’t…” she can’t get the sentence out, scanning your face as she tries to speak. you look so so beautiful. she wishes she could forget the things she said to you, and how upset she is with you right now.

“i was worried,” you admit, “you didn’t sound okay.”

“i’m not,” she laughs, walking past you, the smell of cigarette smoke and oak hugging her body. you follow her to the couch, the woman plopping her body on it, looking up at you with doe eyes.

it’s like she’s expecting you to speak first, to address the shitty message she left you. maybe scold her, yell at her, but you don’t. you kneel before her, placing your hands gently on her knees.

“what you said…i don’t…want you out of my life, ellie,” you tell her softly, thumb rubbing the denim of her jeans, “i could never want that.”

“you have a fucking funny way of showing that,” ellie spits, laughing dryly, “i asked for one thing tonight. and you— you only came here out of pity.”

“i wanted to see you.” “no the fuck you didn’t.”

“yes i—” “jesus christ, stop lying to me,” her voice raises slightly hiding her face behind her hands as she squeezes her eyes shut. “i’m not.”

“you are!” she suddenly throws her hands forward, “l-like when you told me you loved me that night, you remember that?”

it’s the same night you kissed her, the very same moment. the one that is very clearly haunting her, as it does you. it was honest, both those three words you’ve felt for her the moment you got attached to her and the kiss you only pulled away from when you were suffocating against her lips.

neither of you wanted it to end, but it did, along with whatever your relationship was. it was killed, and it is utterly haunting you two.

you move your hands to her own, feeling how hot they are against your cold ones. you two always balanced each other out. “i do love you, els.”

”stop,” she mumbles, “please…stop.”

“i’m not lying to you,” you promise, “yea, i-i pushed you away but you moved away, ellie, you have to understand that.”

ellie is silently crying again, shaking her head, repeating the word ‘stop,’ in a hushed tone. “then you found someone, and so did i, and it got so damn complicated,” you continue, “i don’t want it to be…and i do…i do want you.”

“what?”

“i want to go back— to what we had. i want that, els, i want you.”

she stares at you through her wet lashes, afraid to speak, wondering if you mean it. or if this was a pity love confession, or if this was a cruel joke, or if this was real. any other possibility than you genuinely yearning for her the way she did you.

her head feels heavy, it’s too much.

you hold her knuckles, softly rubbing them, shifting on your knees to lean closer to her. “i need you, ellie,” you whisper, she’s heard those words before.

it was you going to a party you were anxious about. it was you watching a horrible movie you’d only tolerate with her beside you. it was you sobbing on your front porch, waiting to see her headlights in the rain. it was her telling you she was leaving this town and you behind. you needed her then, you need her now.

you push yourself forward, a hand on her cheek to dry whatever tears had wet it. she leans into your hand like her cat does when she gives it affection, wanting it to last forever. then, she feels your soft lips on her forehead, ellie sighing at the sensation.

you tell her once more, “i love you.”

it’s too good to be true.

maybe, if the timing was right, it would be real. if she never left you, if you didn’t settle for something you could hardly call a relationship, if you could just let her back in— this bittersweet moment would happen.

but that’s simply not ellie’s or your reality.

your reality is sitting at an empty kitchen table, your dinner cold, listening to her voicemail on repeat, thinking about how you could just change your mind right there and leave. to see her, tell her everything you want to. but you don’t.

you end up going to bed with a heavy heart. your partner comes home, apologizing for leaving you, holding you to sleep, making you feel loved enough that you don’t want to leave that bed.

ellie passes out with a black-and-white movie playing in the background, envisioning you there with her, trying to salvage what you two have left. telling her you love her again, reassuring her that you truly mean it, that you want her. that you two could live the life you yearn for, but you’re not, and she can’t make you.

she will wait for you.

[quinngefail]

Um. So

Wanted to do an inverse of that last drawing set, and the initial plan was for this one to also have an overall goofy tone. But I couldn't think of ways to spin humor into this one (save for the last image) given what I wanted to touch on, so...

I guess here's some divulgence of my post-bathroom-trap Lawrence characterization, but with a weird juxtaposition between Writing and Visuals because I still ended up using the Little Guy art style HRKGKG...

And same as Adam's post, if my writing is difficult to read, it's all in text form in the image descriptions! ^_^

I feel rather self-conscious about this one overall. But y’know, fuck it man. We're posting it regardless

More thoughts under the cut:

So basically... In my mind's eye, this is a man who has developed an extremely guilty conscious following the bathroom trap, and is now hyper aware of the consequences of his actions. He's been separated from his family, and is desperately determined not to fail anyone else; something that especially applies to Adam, and their relationship in general. And despite Adam having long forgiven him for what happened in the bathroom trap and making it very clear that 'I don't hate you, I could never hate you', Lawrence just cannot internalize this, and constantly has this 'it's the least I can do for you after everything I've done' sort of mentality towards far too many things in regards to Adam.

While also having serious bouts of that whole "You're just manipulating him so you can get your cheap validation and feel good about yourself-"

I'll elaborate more when I write my full thoughts out because there is SO MUCH MORE I could talk about but. FOR NOW THIS IS AN INTRODUCTION TO MY SICK AND TWISTED BRAINROT 🙌

Okay and like the overall tone on Adam's drawing set may have indeed been more goofy, but DON'T GET IT TWISTED that is not my perpetual approach to the way I think about + want to depict his struggles and all that. It was just certainly easier to throw comedy into his pieces lmao. And I've also got a whole lot more to elaborate on with him and his 20 million issues </3

And then lastly!! With the final image it's like I IMAGINE LAWRENCE DOESN'T GET AS CAUGHT UP IN BEING EMBARRASSED OVER BEING ROMANTICALLY CHEESY AND SHIT but y’know. Sometimes you're saying "what's cookin', good lookin'," to your boyfriend with no problem. But other times your brain crafts up "MI ADAM-ORE" and you just have to take a step back after actually going through with saying that one. And have your moment of regretting your every life choice. Y’know

Once they both realize + embrace how cringe + cheesy + corny they truly are. It'll be all over

That's all lol thank you for reading 👉👈

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

How 'bout I stay here and you fight? 

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

AN: Let me start off by saying I'm sooo sorry for the time it took me to update this, I know that it's been quite a gap since the last upload. Hopefully the wait was worth it though, because I have written about 30 pages for you here, so there's lots to sink your teeth into! As always, thanks for all your support and interaction and all the questions you have about the series, having everyone's lovely messages and art means a lot 💕 knowing I have this community to come back to while I stress out about life stuff is amazing, so thanks for being there! Enjoy the next update ☺️

Part 8 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

“Ghost before you-”

“Before I what, Sneak?” Ghost spat, shaking with the effort it took to contain himself. “Before I tell Price? Before I jump to conclusions? What? You gonna try and tell me those aren’t what I think they are? Are you going to keep lying to me? Well go on then, tell me what you think I want to hear, Sneak. It’s what you’ve been doing this whole time isn’t it! You selfish little lying fuck.”

“No! I never wanted to lie to you Ghost, I just-”

“You never wanted to lie to me? Yet, you let me believe that König had screwed you over that day in the gym. Mustn't have been some cheap lay by the looks of things, that must have been you that clawed up his back like that! And to think all this time, I thought better of you,” he snorted, pounding the wall next to you with his gloved palm. “You made us look like idiots running around after you, trying to make you feel better all this time! You’ve had us all concerned about you while you’ve been fucking that cunt behind our backs!”

You whimpered and shrunk into the cold plaster at your back, distantly feeling like you were lying on a slab at a morgue. Everything in you said that it wasn’t long until you were going to be meeting your end. Ghost was wide eyed and loud as a lion as he tore into you, now slapping both his hands on the wall and sandwiching you firmly between him and it. You gulped and clenched your fists, trying to swallow the burning feeling that crept up your throat like a trail of gasoline. Everything was falling apart and you couldn't even see the pieces through the wreckage to try and save them. 

“I didn’t intend for that to happen…it just happened that way. You assumed that König had slept around - I didn’t say it - I just didn't correct you. I couldn’t correct you!”

“Do you think that helps? Do you think it’s better knowing that you took advantage of my trust - in all of the 141’s trust? Do you know how much it hurts to realise that someone that you thought you could count on could be capable of deceiving you for months? That someone that you treat like family apparently doesn’t give a shit and would throw you away for a bit of Austrian Muscle? He’s barely even a person under all that fight and armour, he’s a fucking monster, Sneak, and yet you’ve left us for him!”

You clenched your teeth and rubbed the tears from your cheeks, furiously shaking even though you tried to resist. Ghost knew he had you overwhelmed. He was taking full advantage of your upset, taking his revenge on you now and tearing you down. After all those months you spent running ahead of him, keeping on top of all your lies, you’d really thought that you might manage to get away with it all. Not anymore. Your feet were knocked from under you now.

“I- It- It wasn’t like that!” You protested, choking on your words.

“How wasn’t it?” Ghost roared.

“Because he’s not a monster! We care for each other, he- he cares for me, Ghost.”

“Oh, clearly! You’d have to, it has to be worth it, doesn’t it? You’ve made your choice haven’t you? You’ve gambled your place in the 141 all these months and now your chickens have come home to roost. You think you broke our trust by going against my order that day on the field? How do you think this elaborate fucking lie is going to look to Price? It’s going to ruin you, Sneak.You’re going to break up the team!”

“You mean- you, and Pr- Price is going to kick me out?”

“Who knows what the fuck he’ll do! All I know for fact is that this is going to shake the trust of everyone here. It sure as shit rocked my faith in you, who knows what the others will think when they hear about this. Doesn’t make sense to keep someone around that’s capable of going behind our backs like this.”

A boulder settled in your stomach then. Ghost’s voice had dropped severely low, his angry snarling dying down to a quiet threat. His eyes were narrowed and staring at you with a deadly precision, betraying the scene that surely played in his head - the one where he strangled you for making such an idiot out of him. 

“Ghost, please,” you whimpered, closing your eyes. “I didn’t want things to be this way. I had every intention of staying away, but it’s just…Well…I couldn’t give up on König, I care about the team and I love you all like brothers, but that doesn’t mean I could just abandon König and all the feelings I had for him. I just… I just thought that I could have both.”

You felt like an idiot saying it out loud. 

In that moment a haunting realisation overtook you, the minute you opened your eyes and saw Ghost’s almost hollow mask sockets staring back at you through the gloom, you knew something. You’d made your choice all those months ago. You’d chosen König. That’s how everyone would see it anyway, they’d never understand how much you wished you could be a part of both worlds. 

You knew Ghost could see exactly what you were thinking. He snorted as all the features in your face drooped, backing away from you. You sniffed and pushed yourself off the wall, barely keeping yourself from stumbling as you chased after him. 

“Ghost, wait!”

He chuckled, his throat emitting a dark and choppy sound, one you hadn’t heard before. You shivered and tried to catch up with him, boots slapping hard and fast against the floor as you attempted to match his furious pace.

“Ghost, please, you can’t tell Price yet!”

“And why’s that, Sneak? You want a little accomplice in this, hm? You want someone else to go against Price just to make you feel better? The 141 isn’t a fuckin’ joke, even if you want to treat it that way.”

“I’m not asking you to lie!” you cried out, finally skidding to a stop in front of Ghost. “I’m asking you to wait.”

“Why would I do that?” he scoffed.

“Because we have a job to do,” you said, steeling yourself as much as you could even while tears still ran hot as acid down your cheeks and over your jaw.

“Oh, so now you care about doing your job, huh?”

“I care about you all, I care about the team, I care about this job more than anyone could ever know. Even though I fucked up…even though what I’ve done says otherwise, I do care. That’s why I’m asking you just to hold onto this until the job’s finished. I know exactly how this will go down Ghost, I know everyone will say the same as you have. Do you think this is what the team needs right before going away?”

You sighed and rubbed a palm over your sweating forehead, running your fingers over the wet strands of your hair. You’d been caught dead centre in your web of lies, the least you could do is untangle it with a sense of grace. Let your ruin come at the end of your last mission, let Price handle it all with a clear head, it was the least you could do. You had to make him see that.

“You can’t afford to lose anyone before you go after, Rousseau,” you continued, “Not the night before we leave. Just let me help you with this and then I’ll go to Price myself after all this is through. Just let me try to make things right and then…and then if- if Price wants to kick me out he can. I accept that…just let me help.”

Ghost halted in his tracks and balled his fists, kinetic energy fizzling away as he seemed to consider swinging them. You winced already, scrunching your eyes as you prepared for him to send you flying, but the hit never came. He opted for rolling his shoulders back instead and he paused on your words. For a moment, you worried he might reconsider and give you that well deserved blow, you weren’t completely relaxing yet. Tension sizzled through you both like a bomb fuse. 

Deep down though, you knew he wouldn’t follow through on any of the dark thoughts swirling in his mind. Simmering in the burn of his gaze was a man that was deeply hurt. Even though you were probably one of the lowest life forms in his eyes at that moment, you were still family and he would never punish you like that. Even if he would willingly watch you go into exile.

“You’re telling me you feel fit to operate right now?” he asked, his words coming out with careful measure. 

“There’s no other choice. I have to be,” you said with a bitter laugh, feeling like if you continued anymore, you might go hysterical. “All I know is that if we bring this to Price now, it puts the whole mission at risk and becomes a distraction. I accept that I fucked up, and that you probably can barely stand the sight of me, I do. For the sake of a mission though…don’t you think that we should get through this and let the team deal with it after? The last thing anyone needs is this. Please Ghost, you know I’m right. Even if this is the mission I go down on, at least let me do it without putting the others at risk because of what I’ve done.”

Ghost grunted and looked away from you, letting his body sag as he weighed your words. You’d gotten through to him, you’d delayed the inevitable. You knew it. You just needed him to say it. 

You wished that he’d just tell you he’d let it go completely. For a hopeful second you wondered if maybe some time would stop him wanting to let Price know at all. Though that was never going to happen - if not for the fact that he was hurt from being lied to, then it would be the complete destruction of his faith in you. 

Why couldn’t you have just listened to Ghost from the start? Why had you hurt him like this? 

It was all getting too much to carry. Your heart thumped slowly and filled with lead and oil, thickening the blood in your veins like tar. Your whole body felt wrong, your lungs were gasping just to get by. Your head was spinning as it tried to process all that had happened, rattling with the drum beat of your pulse. It took every ounce of energy you had left just to stay upright, feeling like you might start swaying as you lingered in Ghost's heavy shadow. 

“Alright,” he said eventually, voice gruff and distant. “Fine.”

You swallowed thickly and risked eye contact with him. That only served to reignite his anger though, the shadows in the hallway seemingly shivering around him as he loomed over you again.

“I won’t tell Price yet, but I’m warning you - you wait a single moment to tell him when we get back from this, then I’ll find that dopey Austrian cunt, and I’ll string him up and make you watch as what little light he has in him leaves his miserable fucking corpse. Do I make myself clear?”

You froze before nodding stiffly, body jerking as he shoved past you. 

“Clear,” you whispered, talking to no one as you were left alone in the empty grey corridor. 

-☠️- 

You confined yourself to the darkness that night. You were alone in your room, curling your hands around your knees in bed with the lights off, heavily breathing like some kind of demented horror movie creature. The Only thing that haunted you though was your mind. 

There was no getting away from it, no sharing the load with anyone else, who was there to tell? It was just you and your horrible thoughts, locked up tight together with no respite from any voices of reason. It wasn’t like you could tell the others. 

König had tried to message you, but you couldn’t face him. You just messaged something quick back, reading only a couple lines of what he’d sent you first. You couldn’t talk to him either. There was no way he could know about what Ghost knew or otherwise you’d be kicking off the fight of the century.  

Even with the complete lack of light in that tiny space, you still continued to see the bright whites of Ghost’s mask in front of your face. His hard blue eyes were burning holes into you like the pits of hell. It had your heart racing. Your skin felt too hot, your lungs burned with effort, feeling like they would burst with your heart ramming into them. Nothing could calm you down.

Knock.

Knock. 

You froze in your place, back stiffening somehow even further against the corner you’d shoved yourself into. You weren’t expecting company. Part of your mind wondered if Ghost had given in and told Price. Though as you thought on it for a few more seconds you knew in your heart of hearts that the moment, if Price knew about your relationship he sure as fuck wouldn’t come quietly knocking on your door. The sound was too soft, like someone that was trying to be discreet. 

Only one person that could be - surely.

You padded over to the door and took a breath, holding the cold handle in your palm for a moment and letting it recenter you. If it was who you suspected it was, you couldn’t let him know that you’d been found out. He couldn’t get mad at Ghost and give you away. He couldn’t have the stress of your relationship reveal running through his mind while you were in an active warzone. If something were to happen to König because of your stupidity, then Price finding out about you both would be the least of your worries. 

Why had you chosen the path that had put everyone you love into such a horrible position? Why had you lied so much to them all? 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and closed your eyes for a second, only just opening the door as a tall figure had begun to retreat in the darkness. You watched as the giant stopped in his tracks and then you smiled softly when he walked back to you. The red tears of his mask were the first things to reveal themselves as he stepped into the flickering light that buzzed by your door. 

“Did I wake you?” König asked, honey thick voice coming in at a low whisper. 

“No,” you sighed, gesturing for him to come in, “couldn’t sleep. How come you’re here? You haven’t messaged.”

“I couldn’t sleep either. I wanted to see you before we left - see you alone,” he answered, stepping into your doorway. “And i did message, you messaged me back - remember? You were a little blunt with me, so I got worried.”

Oh.

You shut the door behind him and watched as he walked confidently past you and over to the lamp by your bed. He’d only been in your room a couple of times, despite your insistence he shouldn't risk showing up. Though even those stolen moments were enough for him to remember the layout as if the room were his own.

He flicked the switch on your lamp that sat on your bedside table and looked back up at you then. He was bathed in warm yellow light like an angel that had been sent to soothe your troubled head. Even his eyes seemed to melt through the edge that had settled over you. 

“You don’t look very good, darling,” he noted, frowning over at you. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?”

He tilted his head at you and with that, seemed to remember he was still wearing his mask. His eyes had grown wide like pale blue whirlpools. With fumbling hands, König tugged the fabric over his head and got himself out of the draped material, his tired face was revealed. His hair blew around before it settled into a messy nest on top of his head and his dark eyes refocused on you once he’d been freed from the hood. They were baggy with exhaustion. 

You knew that feeling well. Not that you could tell him the real reason why.

“Hm?” he hummed, walking towards you now. “What’s got you so upset?”

You shook your head and tried to smile at him, accepting the hug that he wrapped you into with a sigh of relief. You didn’t have a good answer for him. Instead you pressed your head into his chest and inhaled his scent, taking in hints of gunfire and metal that his mask had left behind and, of course, the faint notes of your berry tea - betraying his thievery. 

“Have you been stealing my tea again, mister?” you asked, trying to distract him.

“Me? Stealing from you? Never,” he chuckled, the sound reverberating through his body and soaking through to yours. 

“More like all the time!” you grinned, finally chancing a look up at him again.

“Well really, you only have yourself to blame,” he said, stroking his thumb across your chin. “You should never have got me hooked on it if you didn’t want me to indulge myself every once in a while.”

“Mmm…Is that so?”

“Yeah, that’s so.”’

You shook your head at him and tapped him on the arm, prompting him to release you. He let you go, but followed immediately behind you when you went to sit on the bed. He took little time in swiftly drawing you back into his hold once again, nestling you both into the wrinkled sheets on your sad little bed, adjusting himself into your extra cushions. 

His presence might have been making you feel uneasy, the pressure to not tell him anything growing with each passing second. However it was undeniable that the weight around your body was helping you, scattering your worries the tighter he held you.

“Are you going to tell me?” König pressed.

“Tell you what?”

“You know what,” he said dryly. 

You huffed out a sigh. He wasn’t going to let it go though, he repositioned you then and made you face him, keeping you pinned and lying on your side. 

“I know that the reason you smell of berries is because you don’t lift your mask all the way when you drink my tea. Then it gets damp and rubs off onto your shirt,” you said softly, smiling to yourself as you thought of him guiltily sneaking cups of it.

He looked down at you pointedly and rolled his eyes. Ok, so he wasn’t going to let it go then. You stared back at him for a moment before you lay back against his chest and proceeded to close your eyes, reaching out into the beyond to try and think of something to say. Anything other than the truth behind your insomnia. 

“I’m worried about this op,” you whispered quietly. “And what comes after.”

“What? Why?” he asked, wrapping his arm around you tighter. “Why on earth would you be worried?”

“There’s a lot riding on it. It’ll be dangerous too, more than any of the other missions we’ve been on,” you shrugged. “Then there’s the unknowns that’ll come after it as well.”

“You know what will come after it,” König said, a smile weaving itself into his voice. “We will go to Austria together and I will take you on many adventures and buy you lots of good food, real food.”

You laughed a little at what he said and relaxed against him. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heart thudding away behind your head, working away, strong as ever. Maybe the world wasn’t going to completely end, you thought distantly to yourself, maybe even if you didn’t have the 141 you could still make the best of things. Hell, maybe you could move to Austria. 

In choosing König, you weren’t going to be alone after you were kicked out. You would still have him. It didn’t lift the burden that was sinking your heart any, but it sought to bring some light back into your mind. The thought of mountain trails and mornings waking up to his gentle kisses and calloused hands trailing their way down your back weren’t so bad, maybe there was something even a little enticing about those thoughts... 

Your life would be in tatters, sure, but it would still be worth living. There would still be some happiness, even if you were down the love of four family members… Even if you never got to speak to them again. 

“I am looking forward to our trip, that’s for sure,” you replied measuredly. “I just…I mean- I guess I don’t know what things will be like after all this is over. We’ve been working together through this mission through our whole relationship and now that it’s coming to an end… I dunno - I guess I’m just intimidated by all the unknowns.”

You felt ok saying that. It wasn’t completely false. In reality you were far more worried about the situations you knew you’d face rather than the ones that were unknown, but ultimately Price being told about your relationship was still a mystery in terms of punishment.

You had no idea what he might decide to do with you once he’d found out about your betrayal. For all you were aware he could’ve been planning to send you off to one of the worst deployments that you’d ever known in your life. What then?

“You always worry so much” König sighed, tracing his hand up your body so that he could stroke the side of your face. “Know that whatever we both do next…no matter what…you will have all of my heart, and I will do anything to make sure that you get to hold it in your arms whenever possible…because I love you.”

You froze in place, eyes going wide as you processed what he said. He had spoken the unspoken, he had finally put into words the feelings that you knew were there, but both of you had been too guarded to let slip. He was telling you that he loved you, giving you a gift while you lied straight to his face.

“I love you and I will do anything to make this work. I’d dig a hole through to the otherside of the world just to be with you, there’s nowhere you can be sent to that I won’t find a way to reach you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into your cheek. 

You let a little breath of silence hang in the air for a moment and bit your lip, feeling a tear track its way down your face while you battled with your throat to stay silent. You couldn’t let him know what you were actually upset about. 

You loved him too after all. 

And for that reason you couldn't reveal the truth that Ghost had uncovered, it would send him spiralling. Would compromise him and mission. You could put him in danger, more so than you had already by involving Ghost - and soon Price’s - wrath. 

“I love you too, König…” you murmured. “I love you so much.”

He let out a breath at your admission, you felt it whistling past your neck. You shivered, and tried not to think too hard on what would happen when he found out you’d withheld the truth from him that night. 

“I love you so much, in fact, that I’m looking past the fact that you chose the night before a huge operation to tell me that,” you said with a laugh, trying to distract yourself from the demon’s in your head. 

He laughed too. You both relaxed into the vibrations of each other's bodies and then lay quietly for a moment, staring up at the old scuffed ceiling above. 

Though you couldn’t linger there for long. You pushed your way out of his almost iron grip and rolled around, propping your head up so that you could see his face. You were surprised to see the look of consternation that greeted you. It was like looking into a mirror. His eyes were half lidded as he looked down and his lips were pursed, the pink line of his scar stretching taught as he thought deeply on something.

“Well, seeing as you love me too… Would you offer me some assurance?”

You reached over to him and cupped his jaw in your hands, adjusting his face so that he’d meet your gaze. You searched his eyes for a moment and suddenly something clicked in the place as you were finally broken out of your wallowing. 

“Assurance for whatever it was that you couldn’t sleep over?” you guessed. 

He nodded, the scratch of his stubble sharply rubbing against your palm. You smoothed your thumb over his cheek and he leaned into your touch, somehow looking younger and smaller than he usually did. 

“Things will be intense tomorrow…I will be breaching rooms with countless unknown men that will be shooting at us, and I’ll be having to make quick decisions - act on instinct. Whatever you see tomorrow, know that I love you and that I wish you didn’t have to witness any of it. In another life, I’d spare you from ever having to even know about it. I just need to know, that after we come back, no matter what you see, that you won’t run from me. As much as I’ve tried to protect myself, I know that that’s all over now. I know now there’s no way to save myself from the hurt, the same way I couldn’t protect myself from anyone else I’ve ever loved in my life. I just want to know that you’ll give me a chance to explain myself if you see something that you don’t like again… that you won’t leave me.”

Oh König…

You felt the remainder of your tears threaten to spill over and flood your sheets, but you held them back and closed your eyes instead, thinking for a moment.  You hadn’t reacted well the last time you’d heard him at work. How would you react if you were to see him in action now? 

You shuddered at the thought, but let it pass quickly. At the end of the day, you were all going there to reap an unspeakable violence to a group of people that had committed atrocities in return. There were no pure intentions and there were no good players between any of you. There was only putting an end to a group that threatened to kill innocents. If König was going to be at the head of the speartip, then he had to be damn sharp. You couldn’t have him ineffective with worry over what you might think.

Couldn’t put him at risk.

“König, I promise that whatever I see…whatever I think or feel in the moment…I won’t shut you out. We can talk about it all when we get home again. But whatever you do, don’t put yourself in harm's way trying to protect my feelings. We’ll make it through this together, no matter what, ok?”

He smiled at you, a twinkle returning to his sapphire irises. He turned and kissed your hand, you still held his head, and you both closed your eyes for a moment, revelling in the private moment between yourselves. 

“Ok,” he finally replied. “I feel like I can sleep now. Why don’t you try to get some rest as well? See if you can shut off that busy mind of yours.”

You both settled into a silence after that, letting yourselves relax into the calm. At some point you turned back around and a little while later, König switched off your lamp. In the back of your mind you worried that you’d be discovered come morning time, but König assuaged your fears before you could air them and whispered to you, tickling your ear as he told you that he’d set an early alarm. 

“I love you, König,” you whispered, your half smile lost to the night.

It felt like something to giggle over, like a secret between school children. You could barely contain your smile. 

“I love you too,” König replied, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I’ll love you always.”

-☠️- 

König had stayed true to his word and had left while the sky remained dark, shutting off his near silent alarm on the second ring and scurrying out quietly before anyone would be any the wiser. Anyone that didn’t already know anything anyway.

It felt like Ghost had almost sold you out the moment that you’d stepped foot onto the transport. The sound of your boots nervously clanging against the metal ramp drew his attention, and all at once his conversation with the Captain ceased and he fixed his eyes on you with a glare.

It was enough to freeze you into place, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him until he released his mental hold over you. You Clutched furiously onto the handle of your backpack, hoping like hell that it wouldn’t shake too badly.

For a few painful seconds you were stuck still, though just as you thought that Ghost might say something after all, he turned away again and blanked you completely. Price gave him a frown and said something low under his breath, but whatever it was Ghost shook his head and carried on with what they were discussing before.

It was like some kind of twisted game of red light/green light. If that’s the way he’s going to play things this’ll be a hell of a way to go out, you thought to yourself. That is if you even made it out of the mission.

You were supposed to be on Ghost’s team, and at that point you weren’t completely convinced that he would bother too much to look out for you anymore. No, now it was just you and Horangi, and as much as König seemed to get on with him, you and he had never exchanged more than a couple of words to each other. 

Would Soap and Gaz offer swapsies?

You shook your head at the thought of Gaz ever going off plan, especially one that Price had approved. No, instead of hoping for better, you faced reality and took a seat far away from Ghost, throwing your stuff down for what felt like the last time. You sank down on your cracking knees, settling next to your bulging bag and holding it like a plush toy. The squishy material was solid under your grasp and made a great pillow for you to rest your head on. It was enough to lull you into a sense of security, enough to make you close your eyes. 

“Sneak!”

Your head shot up and you lost your breath, staring wide eyed into the direction that you’d heard the voice come from. Was it Ghost? Was he going to reveal everything just to spite you now that you were getting comfortable?

No. Soap looked down at you instead, shooting you a grin as he saw how much you’d shit yourself at his shout. Stupid bastard. You hit out at his leg and huffed when he sat down next to you, feeling like his loud obnoxious voice in your ear was just about the last thing you needed.

And just to sour your mood more, just to make matters all the better, he shoved your shoulder and almost sent you keeling over and tumbling over to Ghost and Price. As if Ghost needed another reason to want to get back at you. 

You threw your hands out and pushed yourself up, attempting to shove him almost twice as hard back. He’d dodged at the last second and had you wheeling forward this time, though at the very least you had your bag to fall onto instead of Ghost this time. 

“What the fuck are you being so childish for?” you grumbled, recovering and rubbing the sore spot where he’d shoved you. 

“Ooft, someone’s grumpy, eh?” Soap tittered, smile never leaving his face. “Did you not get much rest last night?”

You grunted and folded your arms, staring straight ahead like you might melt the plane’s walls. 

“The fuck does it matter to you?”

“I’ll take that as a yes then - as usual.”

Soap raised his brows, challenging you to defend yourself. Normally you’d probably shove him again or throw a verbal barb at him, but that day you were in no mood to play. Especially not when the truth was going to come out sooner rather than later, and you weren’t convinced you were going to be on joking terms anymore. 

No, it wouldn’t be long until he knew about you and König, and your mind was already filled with the sight of his angry frown setting itself upon you. It was better that you didn’t make it all worse by pretending everything was fine, you reasoned, so that being the case you ignored him and planted your head back down on your bag. 

“Crabbit little twat,” Soap snorted. “Better find your sense of humour before you wake up again. And if you’re gonna be in a mood with me, then you can forget sleepin’ and drooling all over me too!”

You grunted in response, and gave him nothing else. You were too sick with worry to respond properly, even despite the ache that developed as you realised that that might be one of your last ‘friendly’ interactions with him. The weight in your heart increased tenfold, feeling as if it were a sand timer growing heavier by the minute. Better not to think about it. Better to shut it all out, to shut down. 

Unsurprisingly your mood wasn’t lifted by the sleep you caught up on. It only served to keep you from agonising about your situation until the plane slammed down onto the dodgy countryside landing strip. That shocked you back to life again. From then on, until you reached the safe house, your mood remained sour and kept the others from bothering you much.

When you got there, of course, you had to buck up and try to act normal. You couldn’t have the others picking anything up, couldn’t let them think you were anything else except tired and grumpy. It wasn’t that far outside the realm of normal, you never slept very well whenever you had to travel away anyway. 

When it came time to go over the briefing, you quietly set yourself as far away from Ghost as you could muster and stood around the projector wall, listening to Price’s briefing intently while you locked your arms into a folded position. The light splashed across his face in brief interludes, his weight was shifting from foot to foot as he walked you all through the plan in his booming voice, he was restless. He was right to be. 

Price knew that the intelligence that had been gathered was of questionable accuracy - he told you all as much and Laswell confirmed it. She didn’t look that much more confident that him. The men who’d spilled their guts to the interrogators had varying degrees of incentive to reveal the true nature and layout of their base and all of you knew that they were highly fantastical to boot. It didn’t matter how many exercises you’d run through, none of you could’ve really known what was in store for when you raided the warehouse. 

You’d looked round the room as he’d talked about that, scoping out the faces of all the men that you were going to fight alongside. Your eyes slowly ran over the 141, König, Horangi, and all those of the other team that Price had assembled to lock down the perimeter. There were hard eyes all around, everyone stayed quiet, listening to the captain until his very last word. Even Laswell had limited interjections, she was just as stone faced as everyone else, letting Price take the lead.

“I want all of you to be at the top of your game. On a mission like this there is zero and I really do mean zero margin for error! You make a mistake on Rousseau’s home turf and you will get yourself or one of your teammates killed. All of you must communicate, I want clear positions and status updates on comms. You will tell me where you are in the warehouse and you will let me know who you come across, is that clear?”

You all responded, an impassioned “yes, sir!” rang throughout the room, ricocheting off of the walls and back into the crowd  like a bullet. 

“Good,” Price said curtly. “Now, enough talking,we move out in thirty minutes. And remember - Zero margin for error! Clear communication! Don’t get yourselves killed.”

“Yes, sir!”

You all sounded off for the last time and set to work scurrying around, gathering gear and preparing the trucks for departure. You’d be driving out until you reached the edge of the forest and from then on you would be trekking out to the compound, a group of old warehouses that had belonged to a logging company before it had gone out of business years before. You were in for a hard day.

Though as Ghost reminded you, when he icily stared at you from the otherside of the room, the hardship wasn’t going to end at capturing Rousseau. Your problems were only going to multiply from that day on.

You were the first to break eye contact that time, nervously shifting away and grabbing your gear, double checking your ammo and your pockets. You stroked your hands up through the curves and rough textures of your armour and bags and went through your mental checklist, trying to fill your mind with something other than all the swirling thoughts that threatened to compromise you. 

“All good, Sneak?”

You snapped your head to your left side, meeting Gaz’s tilted stare. 

“All good, Sergeant,” you answered, repacking a few of your rounds. 

“Sergeant?” he chuckled.

“Did your rank change while I was asleep?”

“No, but you seemed to,” he shrugged.

“I’m stressed, there’s a lot at stake here,” you said, swallowing down another of your silly lies. “But all that matters is that I’m here right?”

Gaz shook his head as you reminded him of the words he’d said to you months before. Ever since he’d lectured you about letting König distract you, you liked to tease him and call him mini Price, reciting his words back to him without fail. I wanna go out there knowing you’re here with us and not turning yourself into a walking target. You’d do your best Price impression whenever you recounted them. 

You didn’t bother this time - not while Price was in the room with you. Gaz rolled his eyes and patted your back, almost turning away to sort his own things before a smile lit his face. 

“Well with a good attitude like that I might just keep you around when I get promoted to Captain,” he laughed, walking away before he could see the smile dropping off your face. 

Gaz might’ve wanted to keep you around - but would Price? 

-☠️- 

It was unsurprising, to say the least, that you were going to discover John Rousseau’s last stand wasn’t going to be easy. No. He was intent on going out with a bang.  

It had been a difficult breach, you’d lost a couple of the men that Price had sent to crack the warehouse open with you. They’d fallen in the fatal funnel that had been created when the enemy worked out your entry point. Despite the high levels of bloodshed though, König remained mostly unharmed.

You’d tried not to let yourself get distracted by him, but even still, had found your eyes magnetised to him at times, had seen him shooting quickly and forcing enemies close when he needed to, basically folding people in half in an effort to break them. Some of the sounds their bones made still echoed in your ears. 

Everything had moved so fast. Your mind had very little bandwidth to process it all. One moment you were on the first floor, desperately trying to locate the stairs and get to Rousseau’s ‘war room’, the next you were deep into the building, continuing to blast through doors with Soap at the head while you, Ghost and Horangi secured the rear. 

Gunshots echoed out throughout the hallways, lights flickered and sparked and rained down electrical orange confetti as they were shot from the ceiling and swung out like some kind of deadly assault course. The floor in front of you flashed white and gold and soon you were drowned in darkness. All the lights in the room crashed down into their final resting places.

Ghost was in the room across from you, Horangi was with him too. You’d decided to separate when you’d seen a lone man run into the little office, you were convinced you’d seen someone hauling a massive gun across his back. It was hard to be sure what it was, maybe some type of PKM, but whatever it could have been would do a lot of damage, you knew that much. Though now, as you were left alone in the shadows, it had felt like your mind had played tricks on you.

Your breathing was shallow, and no matter how thick your earbuds were, your ears were still ringing from all the abuse they’d had to endure. It felt like you’d been crammed under an old church bell and someone was hitting it on all sides. There was a lightning storm in your head and a heatwave through your whole body. 

Part of you was almost begging to be in the debrief with Price already. 

You flicked your night vision down and scoped the room, tracing through the green fog for any signs of enemies. There was nothing obvious. The pulse of your speeding heart thumped away steadily in your ears while the room remained deathly still. Where the fuck are you?

Something flashed out of the corners of your eyes and before you could even turn to see it, you were being overwhelmingly set upon. You stepped backward and leveraged your weight, getting yourself in a good position to strike your assailant and baulked when he stopped you in your tracks and smashed you against the wall. 

Ouch.

The air shot out of your lungs, your goggles had skewed over your eyes, but after a few seconds of shock you were thankfully able to dodge the figure from hitting you and shoved them off to your side. With tears in your eyes, and knees screaming out, you got yourself up. 

It was fight or die. You picked up your gun, scraping the heavy weapon against the floor, and unloaded it into your attacker, just as he tried to rush you again. 

His body collapsed to the floor in a spray of mist and you watched motionlessly as he fell forward and into a lifeless heap at your feet. The gun was like a lead brick in your arms, but still you held it aloft, waiting for anyone else that might try to get the drop on you.

Why’s it so quiet?

“Sneak, what the fuck was that?” Ghost called out. “And where the fuck did you run off to?”

You could hear him distantly through in the other room, but his voice was also straining loud and clear over the busy comms, you knew your reply would be too. All of you had been running around for a lot longer than you would’ve liked. Then again, it was a blessing that you were still up and kicking if anything. There had been so many surprise attacks launched on you, you were lucky to only sport a few bruises for your troubles. 

“In the room across from you LT. Took down an enemy, heading back to you now.”

You took one last look around the ruins of the office, and once satisfied there were no more hidden assailants, you walked toward the doorway. After plastering yourself to the wall, you took a look up and down the hall, pivoting out a little just to be sure no one was going to take a lucky shot. All clear. Well, one end of the hallway anyway, the other was completely blocked off by a stack of fallen units and desks. 

Probably not a good sign.

Were they directing you?

You crossed the threshold fully and bolted into the next room, locking eyes with Ghost as he perched his foot on a fallen desk chair, it was rattling from his weight. Horangi gave you a nod from Ghost’s side and glanced over to the head of the room, keeping watch over Soap as he set up his charges with no small amount of grumbling. That wasn’t a good sign either. 

Your body was getting tired, your back was aching from all the weight you’d been hauling round. The only thing getting lighter was your ammo. You were praying that you were close to the end, hoping that wherever this supposed room was that Rousseau had locked himself into, it was going to reveal itself soon. You didn’t know how much more you could take.

“Stay on that door Sneak, make sure no one else goes looking for hiding spots” Ghost directed. “What’s taking so long, Soap?” 

You turned and followed Ghost’s order, side eyeing König as he stood over your struggling teammates, dwarfing Gaz and Soap under his watchful stance. He was breathing heavily, you could see the dramatic rise and fall of his hood giving away his fatigue. Other than that though, you were relieved to see that he was still unhurt.

Focus!

You snapped your attention to the hallway again and ignored your boyfriend, pulling your thoughts away from him completely. It had been a long time since you’d been on a mission with König and you were unused to the amount of space he took up. He was clouding your thoughts, sending your brain churning out worry like a spitting volcano as he kept charging through doorways and getting up close and personal with men as if he were indestructible.  

You shook your head and cast your eyes through the shadows, watching out for movement. You couldn’t linger over König any longer. 

Soon you realised that there wasn’t any noise. It wasn’t right. Things never went the way you’d trained for almost one hundred percent of the time, but it was strange that there hadn’t been more men around. You’d encountered most of the men on the way in and now that you were further into the heart of the building they were sprouting up in numbers few and far between. That combined with the fact the building felt strategically blocked off in areas was all just one big red flag, waving and buffeting like a sail in the breeze. 

“LT, there’s explosives already set here,” Soap shouted. “I couldn’t be sure before…but they've hidden them in the door casing. Powerful stuff by the looks of it too. If we try to get through this we could end up blasting ourselves to the moon by the looks of it.”

You whipped your head around and back to the group at the door, watching as they all stepped back. All at once everyone's heads snapped to Ghost and he frowned deeply enough that it could be seen through his eyeblack.

“Price, did you get that?” Ghost asked, speaking clearly for the comms. 

“Copy,” Price said, his voice crackling through all of your headsets. “Can you find an alternative route ahead?”

“Not on this floor,” Ghost responded. “This is the only way up.”

“Fuck!”

You winced at Price’s outburst and bit your lip. Should you speak?

Fuck it.

“There haven’t been a lot of men compared to what we expected either,” you noted. “Anyone else get the feeling we’ve been set up?”

Everyone else seemed to have the same thought, Gaz nodded your way, König looked like he wanted to scratch his way out of the walls and take you with him, Ghost narrowed his eyes. Was he annoyed you’d stated the obvious? You frowned over at him, but he moved shortly after that, sidling up to the window and taking a cautious peak outside. His back visibly stiffened as he caught a glimpse of something. 

“Price, there’s a truck heading out the gates to the south side. Do you see it?”

“We’re tracking it now. Ghost, take both of the teams out of the warehouse, whatever’s going on, I don’t like it. Meet us back at the extraction point, copy?”

“Copy, Captain.”

Ghost motioned his head in the direction of the doorway you were still guarding and while the others filed toward you, you stayed in place. You had to ensure no one would surprise them while they stepped out of the room. Ghost passed you and patted your shoulder, his touch like a lightning shock to your system. 

As much of a professional as he was, you hadn't expected him to be at a point where he was making an effort to praise you. A warmth spread over your chest then. 

Nevertheless, you couldn’t let yourself get too carried away. You put it to the back of your mind and followed up the rear of your group, looking around as you passed through the hallways of fallen men. Bodies littered the floors and by then most of the hallways were dark and devoid of any lighting. The green haze of your night vision goggles continued to wave unsettlingly and the crunch of debris was ever present under your boots. 

“We need to move slowly and quietly,” Ghost directed, heading toward the front of your group. “If the bastards have set up bombs there’s no telling what way they were trying to direct us and what happens if another one of them catches us alive. Any one of them could have a detonator, and we know from previous encounters they’re not shy about martyring themselves for the cause.”

Your heart rate picked up, but still you kept marching ahead. The group moved forward like a little troupe of ants, following your masked leader to what you hoped was safety. Each skittering stray piece of furniture under your feet had you jumping, every breath you took was like a gust of wind. Even with your ears ringing it felt like every bit of muffled noise was coming through like the beginnings of a dance anthem.

Knowing that someone with the power to blow the whole building on you might jump out at any second wasn’t great for your weakening composure. That wouldn’t stop you though. Your group powered on down the halls until you reached the lower stairway, and each of you took every step with care, pointing your weapons in different directions just to be sure that every angle was covered. 

With your gun pointed down, you were able to see that there was activity on the bottom floor, you could see people moving down below. You tapped Soap on the shoulder and pointed them out, allowing him to pass on the message until it carried on through the line and down to Ghost. All of you stopped moving then and watched the little group, stuck in silence while they propped open a piece of wood that had been covering a doorway in the stairs.

Ghost extended his arm and gave you all a series of clear hand signals, watching down the line to make sure you all read him clearly. Stay silent. Stay on me. We’re following them.

There was more pressure than ever to make sure that your steps were soundless. Your heartbeat was in your ears and your body was buzzing with how tightly your muscles were wound. Every step took you closer to the bottom and to the hatch, every successful movement gave you hope that you wouldn’t be found out. 

When your group reached the bottom, you were able to see that the men had replaced the sheet of wood and old construction PVC to try and hide the secret exit. Clearly that hadn’t been meant for your eyes. Perhaps it was lucky that you’d come to the stairway at the right time - it was hard to say, maybe they’d meant for exactly that to happen.

Ghost looked to König and together, without having to communicate, they shifted the board and König took position at the front. As always, he was first to breach.

All of you crept into the blown out entryway and were surprised to find a tunnel at your feet, complete with a very haphazard ladder built down into it. Aside from that, the little room you were in was empty. König replaced the piece of wood over the door once everyone was inside and soon you were surrounded in complete shadow, staring around at the others through the green hues. 

“Price, we’ve found a tunnel under the stairway of the building. What do you want us to do?” Ghost enquired, keeping an eye on the tunnel to make sure no one down below indicated that they’d heard him.

The comms were quiet, nothing but the ghostly whisper of static crumbling away at your ears. All of you eyed each other, stares hard enough to the cut the air between you all. The little room was getting hot with all of your bodies filling it, each breath getting harder to take. 

“Price, come in,” Ghost demanded. “Laswell? Anyone?”

Nothing. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Soap breathed.

You pursed your lips and kept your stare fixed on Ghost. His eyes were jumping between you all like he was deciding on his lunchtime football team. He took a moment to think, trying to bring clarity into the stuffy room, he was probably waiting for Price to come back in too, but nevertheless the line remained dead.

“Right. Here’s what we’re gonna do. More than likely this entire building is rigged to blow, we need to get out, but more than likely this tunnel is a sign that Rousseau must be here. He would never have left all his men behind, he likes to make a show of being on base and ‘protecting’ and taking control of his men. König, you’re gonna lead Horangi and Gaz through the back entrance at the loading bay and head to the extraction point, find out why command isn’t talking to us. I’m taking Sneak and Soap with me and we’re gonna see what’s down there, see if we can’t dig Rousseau out.”

“What?”

All of you turned your heads as König spoke, the sharpness of his voice coming out muffled through his hood. 

“Did you not hear me right?” Ghost asked.

“I heard you clearly, Lieutenant,” König sneered. “But I don’t agree with that course of action. You can’t just go wandering around tunnels with only two people with you, that’s suicide. Price gave his orders before the line went down, he was very clear, therefore we should all be going to the extraction point.”

“This isn’t the time to disagree with me, König.”

“It is if you’re going to get yourself and two of your subordinates killed,” König said, clearly gritting his teeth. “Not to mention you’re abandoning us with god knows how many men waiting outside to stop us from leaving.”

“Nice of you to care about what happens to us,” Ghost remarked, “Then again there’s probably only one person you’re trying to protect here, isn’t there?”

Your stomach dropped to your feet. It was like a small fire had broken out in the room and now you had the urge to go beating down the secret entrance and throwing caution to the wind. Was this really going to happen?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” König asked.

“You know what it means. Now would you like to press the issue or would you like to get back to your job and do what you’re being paid to do, you fucking goon.”

König seemed to shoot you a sideways glance, you couldn’t really tell with his visor down, but before you could think to warn him otherwise he decided that it was indeed time to press the issue. Every fibre of your being wanted to throttle him then. If your choice was crawling into a death tunnel or ending up in an argument between Ghost and König during an operation, then tunnel of death it is!

“Paid personnel or not, at least I’m trying to get us all out safely,” König retorted. 

“All? Trying to make sure we all get out, or just trying to make sure you’ve got a warm hole to crawl back to at the end of this? Which is it really?”

There was an almost tangible silence in the room. It was as if there was a thick bubble coating you all, preventing a single whisper of noise from escaping. You couldn’t even hear the others breathe, not over König anyway. He was panting like a charging bull, breaking through the bubble, he sounded like he was ready to tear Ghost down into a stump.  

“Ghost, what’re you talking about?” Soap said, not able to contain himself. “We shouldn’t be arguing, we should be moving! Let’s just go.”

“You’re not going down into that tunnel, Sergeant!” König warned, making a move to stop Soap.

“Or what?” Ghost asked, rising to his full height and jumping into König’s path.

König stood silently, he didn’t say anything - but he didn't allow Ghost to intimidate him either. He stood perfectly still, besides straightening his back, and eyed his opponent. The two of them looked like windup toys ready to strike. 

“Nothing to say?” Ghost sneered. “Then move.”

“Lieutenant, be reasonable,” König said. 

“I am being incredibly reasonable, König,” Ghost laughed, a dark chuckle rumbling from his throat. “In fact, judging by the way you’re acting, maybe Sneak can tell you just how reasonable I’m being.”

Everyone’s heads turned to you, navigating the thick silence that followed with ease. Their night vision goggles stared you down as if they were being programmed to move in sync. You swallowed a thick lump in your throat and gripped tightly at your gun, holding onto it like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. What were you supposed to say now?

“What’s going on?” Gaz sighed, clearly at the end of his tether. 

“Tell them what’s going on, Sneak,” Ghost ordered. “Tell them exactly why this little song and dance is happening right now. Go on. Let them know why Captain Rags has his face in a twist over you going down into the tunnel. Let’s get it out there for the world to know.”

Every one of his words hit you like a knife in your gut. There were blades sticking out at all angles and it was taking all your strength just to stay up. So this was it? You were truly going out in a blaze, but it was far from glorious. 

“Sneak?” König said, his voice strained with confusion. 

“König, Ghost found the pictures in your wallet when he knocked your stuff off the rack yesterday,” you said quietly. “He knows we’re together.”

“What the fuck!” Soap whispered.

“Sneak, what do you mean you’re together?” Gaz asked. “You can’t be together, Price will fucking kill you…”

Horangi remained silent. 

“Apparently they’re not ones for following orders,” Ghost sneered. “Otherwise we wouldn’t even be having this discussion would we?”

Ghost looked between you both and you growled out at yourself, sinking into disbelief that all of it was really happening. It felt surreal to be standing around arguing in a building that was full of god knows how many explosives. Why was it that König could never just follow orders? Why couldn’t you? The room was so hot it felt like you were all starting to cook, smelt like it too. 

“König, just do as Ghost says and take the others,” you commanded. “At this rate we’re all going to get blown up and this whole argument won’t even matter.”

“Sneak-”

“No, König! Just go, we can all talk about it later.”

“That’s if you even make it back later!”

“Don’t think like that. Just take Horangi and Gaz back to extraction and find out why Price hasn’t answered us. Otherwise none of us are getting out of here!”

König continued to stare for a second more, but finally he’d seen sense. He shook his head and furiously muttered something to himself in German before he walked back to the exit. He gave you one last look and with that, slid back the wooden panel and walked out with Horangi in tow, missing only Gaz as he left you all. 

With the door open and König gone you felt like you could breathe a little easier again, but as soon as you looked back at the others, the feeling went away. Gaz shook his head at you and walked out, mumbling something that was too low to hear and soon it was only you, Ghost and Soap left. 

“Steamin’ Jesus, Sneak. What the fuck were you thinking? Have you really been lying to us all this time?”

You sighed and looked at Soap, watching the way his mouth downturned in disgust. A horrible nauseous feeling permeated in your stomach and in your throat, but you couldn’t pay too much attention to it. You had to keep your head on more important things. 

“Clearly I wasn’t thinking,” you sighed. “Look, I’ll answer whatever questions you want after we’re out of this, but we need to get moving.”

“Agreed,” Ghost said, already heading for the tunnel. “We’ve had enough distraction already.”

Ghost cut Soap off from interrupting, shooting him a hard look before he took a flashbang from one of his holsters and primed it. He threw it down the tunnel and waited for a reaction. Nothing. After being met with silence, he quickly flew down into the darkness, leaving you and Soap up top. Soap surely burned a hole through his night vision and into you. 

You shivered and followed Ghost, cautiously setting your foot on the ladder, not liking the way it wobbled with Ghost’s weight and yours. There wasn’t much to be done about it though. You had to get down there quickly and make sure he had backup.

You scurried down and stuck one foot behind the other, releasing each of the metal rungs like they were on fire. It didn’t take long until you were at the bottom and eventually Soap followed you both and rather nicely decided against booting you in the head on his way down, dropping to your side instead.

“There’s no one here, but they’ll have heard that, no doubt,” Ghost warned. “Stay close and lets find out what these fuckers are hiding down here.”

You nodded your agreement and followed him down the tunnel, watching the rickety support beams with a cautious eye. König had been right to worry.

What’s he thinking right now? Is he hurt?

Not again, stop thinking about him. Focus! 

The tunnel didn’t seem like it had been in operation for very long. Something that had seen more use would surely have been built better, you reasoned, not looking like it could crumble at any second. As you took a few more twists and turns and continued to follow the path it didn’t seem to get much better. The walls looked hastily dug out and like any little disturbance might bury them. Though as you all turned another corner and followed the winding walkway, you were surprised to find yourself in a rather large cavernous room.

It was built solidly and looked far more like a permanent structure, it was supported by thick metal beams from which overhead lights were suspended and hanging down from long wires. It also contained a plethora of scaffolding like shelves, housing a few abandoned looking wooden crates, some of them looked like they’d been raided, others were dusty and dark with disuse. You flipped your goggles up and watched the two men at your sides repeat the action, finally noticing the true extent of all the grime and blood that had covered them both. 

“What is this place?” Soap wondered out loud. 

“Looks like some kind of storage facility. Well, it was one anyway,” you remarked.

You didn’t miss the way Soap narrowed his eyes at you from the side of his vision. He advanced forward through the looming racks while you stayed behind and watched the other men go. You had to give yourself a second for the bile to stop rising in your stomach. To say that being on an op with two men that had it out for you was making you feel uneasy was an understatement. 

However you didn’t have the luxury of lingering on for very long. Once you noticed Ghost heading to the set of shelves that blocked your view of the head of the room, you started to follow after him, ensuring that he’d have some cover. Part of you felt better being around someone that had had longer to digest the news. 

Once you’d flown past the racks and over to Ghost you began to realise that there was a thrumming noise emanating from the far side of the room. It rumbled and growled and grew harder on your ears the closer you got and as soon as you made your way round the racking you saw the source of it. A big set of metal doors.

Soap joined you from the otherside, clearly finding the rest of the room just as empty as you had. Ghost looked over to Soap then and back at the door, motioning for him to get close. 

“Soap, do you have the borescope?”

“Aye, hold on, I’ll sort it.”

Soap reached into his bag and pulled out the long snake of wire and fetched his drill. From there he made a small opening in the door with quick precision and sent the coiled camera through, taking a look at the monitor as he did so. The monitor quickly flashed on and you and Ghost were able to peer round and see a flurry of men running around a mixture of freight and pickup trucks, loading cargo onto them. There were some that were beginning to drive off, halting just as they made it onto the big ramp then ran up the far side of that room. 

How on earth had they managed to hide that? 

You frowned as you watched on, realising that the last trucks were beginning to get closed up and prepared for driving off, you could hear the echoes of the doors being slammed shut. The men were shouting louder now, driving each other to go, go, go. You watched Ghost out of the corner of your eye, waiting for him to make a decision. All until the final man walked into the centre of the room, he was surrounded by a group of heavily covered up muscle men toting machine guns like they were little more than big boys with pretend sticks in the playground. The man walked in the centre of them with a confident strut - he looked just like he did in the videos.

“Holy fuck, is that Rousseau?” Soap whispered.

Ghost nodded tightly.

“Brothers! We have done well today, the enemy safehouse has been destroyed and the rest of the soldiers will still be trapped in the warehouse trying to route us out. Let us leave and go to our new base, onwards and upwards my friends!”

The enemy safehouse has been destroyed? Price? Laswell? Were they ok?

You widened your eyes, but you didn’t get much time to think about Price and the others. 

Rousseau had sped over to one of the trucks and once inside, had set off a cataclysm. The doors to the ramp opened, bathing the basement in startling sunlight and from there the explosions began, a loud series of bangs that shook the room like a hurricane, each one unsettling the walls and floor as they got closer. It felt like a tiger leaping ever closer, ready to land straight onto your belly and tear you open. 

What the fuck!

“We need to get out of here!”Ghost roared. “Head for the trucks, we can try to get into the one at the back. 

He kicked at the door and luckily it burst open, allowing you all to run forward and into the next room. Because the room was so long, you were still covered by shadow and no one seemed to notice your group’s appearance. No one was shooting at you anyway. 

Your throat burned as you ran, your mind was racing, intent on following Ghost as he stuck to the walls, keeping yourselves hidden in the darkness. He was racing out ahead while you and Soap tied with each other, running neck and neck and panting like hounds as you propelled yourselves ahead of the blasts. The room was really shaking now and while the last truck began to pull away and ascend up the ramp, your eyes teared up. 

No, no, no. Not like this!

You pumped your legs a little bit harder and Soap did the same, managing to sprint ahead like you were all in a murmuration, moving fluidly and in sync with one another. With that effort made, you all managed to jump onto the last truck, detaching from the wall at the last minute before attaching yourselves to the back. You all grabbed onto what holds that you could, affixing yourselves to the bolts that kept the doors closed and held on for dear life, watching on with horror as you saw the warehouse burning up in the distance, leaving it in a trail of smoke. 

It was then you were finally able to hear the crackle of comms and a blended mixture of broken up accented shouts, German, Korean and English. The others were trying to contact you. 

Had they made it out ok? 

“Gaz, is that you?” Ghost shouted out, trying to adjust his headset while he gripped onto the bolt. “We’re on Rousseau, we’re out of the warehouse. Did your team make it out?”

If you weren’t busy being terrified for everyone’s lives  you would have rolled your eyes. 

“LT, is that you?” Gaz called out, his voice finally coming through clearly. “Are you all ok?”

Ghost didn’t get a chance to say anything to that, he was quickly cut off.

“Lieutenant, respond!” König snarled, his voice snapping out like an angry wolf. 

“We made it out,” Ghost confirmed. “Did you hear what I said? Where are you? We’re following Rousseau, we’re on one of his trucks. His men must’ve been instructed to set this up for him upon capture. They must’ve had a plan to move when they knew we were coming.”

“We made it out, we started heading for the extraction point, but we got cut off by Rousseau’s forces in the woods. He must’ve left men behind to try and stop us from getting out, we got em’ though. We still haven’t heard any word from Price. What direction are you heading in? Should we follow?”

“We got word that they destroyed the safe house,” Soap said. “Price and Laswell might not’ve made it.”

You finally turned and looked up, blinking back at the rush of air as you changed direction and looked at Soap. He looked like a terrified cat that had got itself stuck up a tree. Both of his hands must’ve been white knuckling the bolt from under his gloves - he was holding onto the same one as you, standing over you while you crouched low and hooked your feet into the groove of the bevelled doors. The extra grip was helping your shaking body. 

Why couldn't Ghost have just let you and König pair off? You’d have taken jungle warfare over hanging off the back of a speeding truck anyday. It would have avoided the whole stupid argument back at the tunnel too. In that moment, while you held on for dear life, you realised that there was a lot of things that you’d have wished that could’ve been done differently. 

“Don’t follow us,” Ghost said, taking back control of the line, “Try to find out if anyone made it to the extraction. You hear that, König? Make sure that we can make it out of this, don’t do anything stupid!”

“Hard to say what’s stupid when your definition seems so different to mine,” König snarked.

“König, don’t be a smartass! Just try and find Price so we can get Rousseau,” you growled. 

Ghost tilted his head at you, clearly surprised that you’d been the one to tell him off for that. As much as you were relieved to know he was ok, and as much as you’d like to comfort him, you knew the mission was much bigger than yourselves. Getting everyone out safely and trying to successfully capture Rousseau was the most important thing and you could only do that if you were apart.

The line remained quiet for a second.

“Ok, we’re heading to the extraction again now,” Gaz confirmed. “We’ll let you know when we reach point.”

“Copy, Sergeant.”

You looked up at Ghost and then at Soap, watching as both men struggled with staying stuck to the truck. This wasn’t going to work long term, you could feel your own arms wanting to give out, it wouldn’t be long till you’d all come tumbling off and crashing onto the dirt road. You had to figure out a way to get to a more secure location. 

“Ghost, do you think you can hold on to the truck and try to support my weight at the same time?” You asked.

“Why?” he barked.

“If you hold onto me, I can try and climb up the truck and get myself on top,” you explained. 

“And then what about us?” Soap growled. “All very well sorting out a nice place for yourself up there.”

“If I move up there, then you can crouch next to Ghost and open the door on the side we’re standing on,” you said, glaring up at him. “That way we can all hold it so it doesn’t swing out and you two can climb in and shut it.”

This wasn’t the time for accusations. You waited for them both to share their thoughts, and jumped when the truck hit a bump. It almost sent you all flying. Soap yelped and hugged into the bolt tighter and Ghost grunted. You fumbled as your feet were displaced and wobbled, your hands slipping off of the bolt and sending you sprawling backwards. 

Ghost reached out and grabbed you in the nick of time, just when you thought you were about to be grated parmesan on the side of the pebbled road. You huffed out a breath and grabbed a hold of the bar, swallowing down your pulse as it tried to climb out of your throat. 

“Right, get on with it,” Ghost said, “I can only hold you for so long.”

You shook your head and had to remind yourself of the plan. That close call rocked you.

Without any more interruption, you grabbed onto the bolt on Ghost’s side with both hands and swung your legs up, planting them against the wall while Ghost kept his hand flat against your back. As you got higher up, his support dwindled, but from there you were able to reach around the top and kick your legs against the doors. With one last grunt you were able to get yourself fully on top of the truck, but kept yourself belly down on it, ensuring that you wouldn’t be seen. 

“Ok, I’m gonna hold onto the door now. Open it when Soap’s in position.”

The other two fumbled around, getting themselves steady. After a few moments of contoroting themselves around one another they were able to open the door, it was heavy and it took everything in you not to go flying out with it even with Ghost holding it from his position too, but you were able to stop it just enough so that Ghost and Soap could climb in as they both took turns to hold the door alongside you.

Once they’d disappeared inside and snapped the door shut, you realised that there was a small fault in your plan when you were left gripping on for dear life. Not to mention how much colder it was on top with all the wind rushing past your face. Then there was also the bugs…

“Nice work, Sneak,” Ghost congratulated, voice coming in quiet over the line. “I’m gonna get soap to drill a hole in the ceiling. Have you got your knife with you?”

“Yeah, why?” you asked, frowning as you slowly worked out where he was going with this.

“That should give you something decent to hold onto.”

“Are you serious? Can’t you guys cut a hole in the ceiling for me?” you huffed.

“Who do you think I am, Qui-Gon fuckin’ Jinn?” Soap retorted, you could hear the drill going in the background. “Must’ve forgotten my lightsaber at home. Beyond blowing the thing off, how am I gonna cut a hole in the roof, sneak?”

“I’m not asking you to melt the whole roof off soap, you must be able to make a small hole with that drill, just make a few drill holes and weaken the metal!” you growled. 

“Negative. We need you up there, Sergeant,” Ghost interrupted. “We need someone who can see ahead and tell us when the trucks are stopping or if we leave the forest. If they reach base or they leave us with no cover we need to get ready to jump off and hide.”

You sighed and watched as the drill bit poked its way out behind you, grating through the metal with a sound like grinding teeth. You would need to turn and slide forward a few inches to be able to reach it, but it looked like that was your best way to keep on top of the truck.

Without anymore stalling, you flipped around and watched as it disappeared and appeared a couple times more, forming a ragged little line. That would be enough for your knife to eat through.

You shakily reached behind you and to your knife holster, gripping the handle like a vice in your hands, whatever you did you couldn’t let it fly from your hold. With that in mind you quickly extended your arm and stabbed it through the hole, gritting your teeth as your hand slammed into the metal. That was surely going to bruise,

“Could’ve done with some warning, Sneak,” Soap huffed. “You almost took my finger off.”

“Poor baby, maybe you’d like to swap places,” you retorted. “See how you like holding onto the top of a truck with nothing but your hands.”

“Watch it, or I’ll send that knife flyin’ out,” he barked back.

“Shut up, Soap,” Ghost growled. “Keep the line clear. Sneak, let us know what you see, copy?”

“Copy that, Ghost.”

You hardened your gaze onto the horizon, watching as the trees came waving by and flew into your periphery, and adjusted your position. With both hands firmly wrapped around your knife, you were deadset on keeping your fingers wrapped around it with a snake like constriction. In that moment you were picturing it as Rousseau’s neck, already seeing red as you thought about Price and König and all the shit that you’d been through since chasing after the bastard.

You were going to get him. You were going to make him pay. 

If König, Gaz and Horangi didn’t get back to you soon with good news, then you were fully prepared to unleash hell on him. It didn’t matter what Price was going to do when he found out about you and König, it didn’t matter about the rising blood and seething vitriol that would surely come with the revelation. Price was the one that helped shape you into the soldier you were, he was the one that had gotten you back alive from countless missions, he was your reason for marching on in some of your toughest fights. He cared about you and he believed in you - it was why he was so protective in the first place.

If Price was gone then it wouldn’t be long until the killer met the same fate…of course only after suffering for their actions in the meantime. 

Next part here

[leog4u]

Game Design and Porn Pt. 1

or, How To Fuck Up The Best Intrinsic Reward Ever

Hi, I'm Leo G, veteran pervert. One time while chatting in a server exclusively made of porn artists, I brought up the game design of a porn game I enjoyed. One of them laughed, saying "Who cares, it's just a porn game?" Being unwell, I never let this go. Since then, I have played many adult games and took each one as serious products made by professionals. Fast forward to today, and the demo for my porn game, Joker's Trip, is nearing completion. I also have some sci-fi erotica you should check out.

So you wanna make a porn game. You heard they make money, and hey what’s more fun than making a video game AND porn? But you don’t know where to begin! Well don’t worry, Leo’s got you covered. We’re gonna walk through the line of thinking you should have when designing your porn game. There's gonna be at least three parts to this, with part 1 focusing on how to reward your player.

Define "porn game" for me, Leo.

There are porn games, and then games with porn in them. A porn game is a game where you won’t last 5 minutes, where everything exists solely to meet and, subsequently, fuck. A game with porn in it is a game where everything exists for the purpose of the game, and also, you fuck. Fate Stay Night, for example, is a VN with a story that just so happens to have some CGs where the protagonist rails Saber, but is mainly about Shirou and the Holy Grail War. Much like how I would call Castlevania a game with horror in it, but not a horror game.

Porn games are a lot like horror games. They both get a bad rap for being cheap to make, appealing to base instincts, and generally being low quality. They're also both not actual genres of games, but genres of content. Think about it, if I asked you what a horror game is, you'd say a game that's scary. But what's the actual game part? The unfortunate answer would most likely be "walking sim," but there are a lot of examples that are FPSes, puzzles, driving sims, platformers, deck builders, the list goes on.

The most common genres of game I see for porn games these days are by far RPG Maker RPGs and VNs. I won’t be talking about VNs because they’re closer to writing than game design, which isn’t a flaw but a feature. What used to be everywhere, in days of old, were breakout games, where the more bricks and levels were cleared, the more of the sexy image would be revealed in the background. Other arcadey type deals like shoot ‘em ups and mahjong were also around, and had a similar “strip ‘em down until you have sex” gameplay loop.

Okay, so what’s an intrinsic reward?

There’s intrinsic rewards, and there're extrinsic rewards. Extrinsic rewards, generally, are the number go up rewards. Things that make your character stronger, or give you more resources to buy new gear or whatever. Intrinsic rewards in games can cover a large swathe of things. It can be the feeling of satisfaction of completing a puzzle, a piece of lore or world building, or a new dialogue option with a character you want to fuck.

I like fucking characters, are we talking about porn now?

Yes! I’m of the opinion that you literally can’t make a better intrinsic reward than pornography. On top of setting the tone for the entirety of the game., at its best it can add to a story, add to someone’s character development, or be a beautiful piece of art to look at. AND you can jack off to it! Unfortunately, that’s at its best. Let’s talk about how porn is delivered in a theoretical RPG porn game. (As a head’s up, there will be talk of “bad end” scenes, but this is under the assumption that the player is the one consenting.)

So you’re playing an RPG and get into a fight. Maybe you were underleveled or too cumbrained to remember to buy healing potions. Then your HP goes to zero, and instead of going back to the title screen, you’re getting fucked by orcs. That’s right, let’s talk about Game Over CGs.

You get to watch porn when you lose?

To someone making a porn game with a battle system, this delivery method makes sense. The characters in this world are driven primarily by lust, this is just the obvious conclusion. And it doesn’t even have to be non-consensual! Games like Future Fragments show that it can be presented as a sexy inconvenience rather than anything uncomfortable for the player or our hero. Game Over CGs even have the benefit of softening the blow of defeat, by giving the player a chance to reflect on their defeat and jerk off. Even better if losing a fight isn’t lost progress, but rather a bump in the road. However, there’s a problem here. The player is a dog, and we’re rewarding bad behavior.

The porn is an intrinsic reward, so why are we giving it to the player for losing? Incentivizing losing on purpose isn’t just bad game design, but a waste of time. And to that end, a lot of porn games try to give solutions to this. One being a kill button on the keyboard or a skill that instantly KOs our hero to get to the lose screen faster. What might seem like a convenience is really just expediting failure.

What it says is that the gameplay doesn’t actually matter. You’re just here for the porn, right? In that case there’s plenty of places I can go to see a chick with huge knockers get railed by an orc, with the added bonus of not having to play forgettable and mid turn based combat!

Another solution I’ve seen is the game outright telling you, “hey don’t bother killing yourself to see the porn. Once you beat the game all of the scenes you missed will be unlocked!” At first this seems like a reasonable way to go about it, but it comes with another problem: your game better be fucking good to make me play through the entire thing before getting to see cock. Like I said earlier, porn at its best can reveal things about the world and drive character development. I uh. Just beat the game. I don’t care anymore. Showing me a scene that’s taken out of context by a factor of 5 hours or more isn’t what I’d call great game design or story telling. It’s also too little, too late.

What if we made the porn actual rewards?

Now we’re getting somewhere! Let’s make the reward…a reward! What if, every time the player beats a level, we get some porn? If we tie the CG to beating the boss, we’ll be tying the reward to game progression. That’s good right? So now, on top of the extrinsic rewards you’d normally get for beating a boss (a lot of EXP, better gear, opened areas) we also get that sweet dopamine rush of pornography! So we’re good, right?

There’s 1142 words left in this post, so I’m assuming no.

Well. It’s a start. It has the problem of predictability. If not handled properly, it comes off as lazy. As a game designer, one of your goals is to not constantly remind your player that they’re playing a video game. Get through the level, get porn. It feels a little too “mouse in a maze looking for cheese” for my taste. And much like the game over method, if the actual game itself is mid, the player will start to question if the reward is worth it, and might be afflicted with the worst condition a player could receive: boredom.

Of course there are exceptions. In puzzle or arcade type games where you don’t get extrinsic rewards, giving the player porn as another form of reward per level or whatever is perfectly reasonable (though it does have the issue of being predictable.) This is a perfectly good way of doing it if your game is short, or if the game is, y’know, good and fun to play. Bad Color’s game, Heroine Conquest, is a level based puzzle game with porn as the reward, but only when you do good. Combining the actual challenge of mastering the game, with a genuinely unique game loop makes for a feeling of accomplishment when beating a level. Pair that up with a sex cutscene, and the dopamine rush will hit.

So! Let’s combine giving the player a power trip, with a less rigid structure for giving the player porn. Instead of tying the porn to purely progression gates, let’s tie it to the progression.

Plot milestones

In Third Crisis, sex scenes are peppered throughout the regular game’s plot, starting with some lesbian bondage before introducing the protagonist, who goes through a tutorial before having their own horny encounters. It’s not just given when you win or lose, but is a natural part of the game. Beating bosses, losing to enemies, and exploring dialogue options in sidequests all lead to unlocking new CGs.

Now what’s nice about that, is that the sex isn’t placed somewhere extremely predictable. It isn’t just a reward for beating The Boss Of Forest Zone, Now Go To Ice Zone And Beat The Ice Boss For More Cock. Because that’s the biggest issue of predictable rewards, you know you’re not getting anything until that checkpoint, which will make the player weigh whether or not it’s even worth continuing. This is fine, again, for an arcade type game, not an RPG or adventure game. By sprinkling sex throughout the plot itself, the player will not only want to progress, but their curiosity will have them wondering “what else is out there?”

Rewarding exploration

By putting sex scenes behind optional side quests or encounters, the dog that is the player will scour every single corner of the map, and leave no pixel unturned. Personally, that’s more exciting to me than what you’ll get in the main progression route. In Future Fragments the player can find their rival Faye in sexual situations if they explore the map enough. These are completely optional, and don’t give any direct rewards like more HP or an item, but they’re by far what motivates me to explore the maps as thoroughly as possible, more so than the plot macguffins the game is named after!

So now the player is excited. Sex can happen anywhere. Maybe that daunting off road path with stronger monsters isn’t just hiding a secret, but a sexy secret! They’ll be more likely to venture down those optional paths you painstakingly made.

If we’re using sex in game overs, boss fights, and just randos, why not put it everywhere?

So now I want to talk about the concept of a “sex stat”. It’s not a bad idea! Say, the higher the player’s sex stat is, the more opportunities you unlock for fucking. It could even be tied to the player character’s personality, and affect the story! Instead of using a sword and shield, they’ll end any conflict with sass and sex. They open their eyes to the horny world around them and stop being a hero, and instead become a succubus, and the ending is a massive cum filled orgy.

That sounds excessive

Yeah, it does, doesn’t it.

I’m not a fan of “corruption” systems in porn games. Corruption as a kink is totally fine, and having it be a part of the story lets you incorporate more sexuality into the plot. But as I alluded to, it snowballs pretty fast (and I’m not talking about spitting in someone’s mouth). It ends up being like a cheat code, where you’re bypassing parts of the game for no cost. It stops being a reward, it stops being unexpected, and it stops it from being sexy.

Wait, what? Stops being sexy? What’s not sexy about a succubus orgy?

Alright, listen, we gotta rein it in for a minute. This isn’t so much about game design as it is about writing erotica, but if you have a world where everyone’s fucking and sucking 24/7, there’s no contrast to make what would normally be a hot taboo a hot taboo. If everybody’s naked, nobody’s naked. The aforementioned snowball effect of a corruption system can be seen if you play literally any game that has one. It won’t take long to not have to engage with any combat or adventuring system if you can just press the “Submit to the big dick warlock” button and watch porn to progress.

Which, now that I said that, is exactly the problem. Imagine any other rpg you’ve ever played. Now imagine if every encounter and dialogue option had an option to just watch a short cutscene to skip the encounter. That would suck ass, right? Literally no difference here.

It would. Hey, I’m sort of lost now.

Don’t worry, we’re wrapping this up.

So what did we learn? We learned game over CGs have a critical design flaw that shouldn’t be relied on. We learned that predictable rewards can lead to boredom. We learned to keep sex as a reward and not devalue it.

To summarize, here’s a neat trick to know where to put your porn scenes.

”Would I put an Xbox Live achievement here?”

It’s that easy. “Lose to Goblins for the first time,” that’s an achievement. “Beat orc commander,” that’s an achievement. “Find Hubert the Magical Dickhead,” that’s an achievement. Using that as a guideline is foolproof. Almost.

This sounds like it’d take a lot of resources

It sure does! But don’t worry. I’ll cover that in the next post talking all about how to deal with the resource management of a porn game.

(Shoutout to Taylor, my guy for editing!)

[tightjeansjavi]

‘Cause After Midnight…

A/N: this idea came to be randomly yesterday morning and thus the brain rot began! Idk about y’all, but I would do ANYTHING for slumber party!Dieter 🤭 big thank you to @chronically-ghosted for sharing the brain rot cell with me this week! 🫡

~word count: 8.5k~ yeaaaah idk what happened!

Summary: a slumber party with your bestie Dieter Bravo, after midnight! What could possibly happen between the two of you?

Pairing | slumber party!dieter x best friend female!reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, a little sprinkle of angst, DUBIOUS CONSENT, mentions of alcohol and ouid smoking, infidelity (not by dieter) toxic relationship (Dieter’s ex) denial of feelings, secret pining, best friends to lovers?, pussy pronouns, domestic intimacy, mutual masturbation, masturbation with a shower head (iykyk), sexual tension, language, dirty talk, unprotected piv, aftercare, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is bug, +18 minors dni!

Being Dieter Bravo’s best friend since…well, forever, came with a long list of perks. Your favorite perk of all, you may ask? Getting to spend time with your best friend. Whether that was at his home, lounging side by side next to his inground pool, stumbling out of a DTLA nightclub, clammy hands entwined together as you head to the nearest street food cart ASAP (Dieter demands steak tacos when he’s wasted) or when you were his glittering gem on the red carpet, dodging the incessant questions from the red carpet wasps—I mean, interviewers asking you and Dieter if you were dating.

It was like clockwork, you and Dieter would look at one another, laugh and shake your heads in sync, “us, dating? No, you have it all wrong! We’re simply just two besties that do everything together, don’t get it twisted!” (So what if you and Dieter would sometimes get equally wasted in the club and drunkenly makeout…and sometimes, while making out, he would grope your ass beneath your dress—you were just friends! Best friends kiss like all the time…right?)

Of course, Hollywood didn’t buy it despite yours and Dieter’s repetitive denial, and the fact that Dieter was currently smitten with his girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend now. The tabloids spewed their cheap gossip, but your friendship with Dieter never soured.

You frequently slept over on the weekends he was home. It was your shared routine from Friday-Sunday (sometimes even Mondays), you and Dieter would get higher than two kites, cross off a few movies on your watch lists, paint together, and order takeout for every meal. Truthfully, it was fucking bliss.

This weekend, in particular, Dieter decided he wanted to have a whole ass slumber party. (Not nearly as extravagant as the princess diaries slumber party, or the Barbie movie) but Dieter knew how to throw a killer intimate slumber party. He invited all of his close, niche friends including you. He already had a whole array of different foods to munch on throughout the night so that no one would go hungry.

As always, Dieter was nearly glued to your side and if it were anyone else, or any other man for that matter, you would be annoyed, but when it came to Dieter, you shared your small bubble of space happily with him.

Everything was going swimmingly, until Dieter’s ex showed up uninvited. Dieter was in the whirlpool, wearing the tiniest swim trunks known to man. He had a beer in one hand while his other arm was resting along the outside of the hot tub. He was mid conversation, laughing about something one of his friends said before his eyes met yours when you appeared from the kitchen, a nervous look plastered on your face as you approached the hot tub.

“Hey, Dee?..” you crouched down along the edge of the hot tub.

“Yeah, bug?” He took a sip of his beer, brow cocking in curiosity. “What’s up? Why do ya look so worried?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Dee. Just uh—well, your ex just sorta showed up uninvited. She’s in the kitchen—”

“What the fuck do you mean she just sorta showed up?! What the fuck.” He groaned, dragging his wet hand across his face, squeezing his eyes shut. “I reckon she just invited herself in, too?”

Your nod confirmed his suspicions. “Unfortunately she did. I told her she wasn’t welcome, but she essentially told me to fuck off.” You stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, well, she’s never exactly been the type to respect boundaries.” He sighed and handed you his beer so that he could pull himself out of the hot tub. The swim trunks he was wearing quite literally left little to the imagination, and you swore that you caught a glimpse of his infamous package when he bent down and grabbed his towel to quickly dry off.

His hand gently brushed yours as he reached for his beer. “I’ll deal with her. Not gonna let it spoil my night.” He gruffed out and draped the towel around his shoulders. “Be back in a jiffy, bug.” He winked and headed towards the sliding doors leading to the kitchen.

When he didn’t return to the backyard in over 20 minutes, that’s when you made the executive decision to see if he was okay. When you neared the front door, you could hear the distinct tone of Dieter’s voice through the thin glass and you caught a glimpse of him throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“You can’t just fucking show up here uninvited! You’re not only trespassing, but you’re crossing a boundary! This is exactly why we broke up in the first place because you’re just so fucking clingy!” He yelled.

“Oh, I’M THE CLINGY ONE?!” She laughed, jabbing her perfectly manicured finger directly into his bare chest. “So, it has nothing to do with the fact that you spent more time with your best friend than with your girlfriend?! Don’t you think thats a bit fucking weird, Dieter?!”

“Oh, for fucks sakes! Here we go again! Don’t you dare go bring her into this when she’s done nothing wrong! So sorry that you felt like the attention I was giving you was inadequate! Guess that gave you just the right amount of ammo to cheat on me with MY fucking pilates instructor?! Dude, I can’t even look the guy in the face anymore without wanting to rip his dick off, balls and all!”

“YES, because you left me with no other choice, Dieter! He gave me more attention than you ever have!”

“Right, sure! So instead of oh—I don’t know, acting like a fucking normal person, you let your jealousy take front and center and cheat on me?! Why the fuck couldn’t you just be like hey, Dieter! I’m feeling under-appreciated in our relationship and I’d like to talk about it in a healthy, productive way because I love and respect you as a person! I would have never fucking cheated on you, don’t you get that?!”

“Okay—you’re right! I’m sorry that I wasn’t mature, and I’m sorry I cheated on you, Dieter. I’m so sorry! Can we please just—”

He laughed, throwing his head back with his hands carding through his damp curls in disbelief. “You have got to be shitting me! You just expect me to what—take you back after all of that?! Fuck you. I may be a stupid fucking actor, but I’m not that stupid. Please, can you just—leave? I don’t want to call the cops, but I will if I have to.”

“Dieter, come on! Baby, please. Let’s just talk—”

“I’m not your baby.” He muttered and turned on his heel and walked back towards the front door. He really just wanted to bury his face in his hands and scream, but he was determined to not let her ruin his night. So, when he opened the door, and found you on the other side, he let out a visible sigh of relief. “Well, that was a crapshoot. Did ya hear any of it, bug?” He closed the door softly and made sure to lock it for good measure.

“You okay, Dee? I heard the last bit of it…I’m sorry that you had to deal with that.”

“S’okay. It’s done now and I’m gonna try and not let it ruin the rest of the night. Thank you for checking in on me, bug. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, Dee. Everyone is still in the backyard. Wanna join them? Otherwise I was thinking maybe you and I can get high?”

He grinned at your suggestion, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorjamb, “say less.”

That’s how you found yourself in Dieter’s bedroom, sitting on the floor with his rolling tray in your lap while he was changing out of his too-tight swim trunks and into a pair of boxers that were…equally as tight. You loved the way that his little bit of tummy pudge hung over the side of the boxer's waistband. What you wouldn’t give to worship that tummy while he shoves his—You kept your eyes focused on plucking a few bud clusters and placing them in the grinder. His phone was charging next to yours on the nightstand. You had Spotify open on shuffle playing yours and Dieter’s favorite playlist. The song that was currently playing was After Midnight by Chappell Roan.

He plopped down beside you, gently grabbing the tray and placed it in his lap so that he could roll the actual joint. He used the front of his bed as a backrest as he opened up the grinder and carefully distributed the ground up herb into one of the papers.

“I seriously don’t know how your dick can breathe in those tight fucking shorts, Dee.” you said with a playful edge to your tone as you let your head rest in the crook of his neck. He leaned into you too, naturally.

“They are not that tight!” He scoffed and looked over at you with a playful grin on his lips. “My dick can breathe in these perfectly fine, bug.” he retorted.

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say.”

Comfortable silence washed over the two of you while he finished rolling up the joint, looking over at you expectantly as he sparked the end of it, inhaling with his cheeks slightly hollowed, “should we have a full slumber party moment and paint our nails and do each other's makeup?” He asked softly, blowing the smoke upwards towards the ceiling and held the joint out to you between his pointer and middle finger.

“Shut up. I can’t believe you just brought that up because I was thinking the same exact thing!” You looked over at him In disbelief, reaching for the joint as your fingers briefly brushed against one another during the exchange. “I must have manifested this or something because I made sure to bring my nail polish this time!”

“Just start calling me Dieter the all knowing!” He chuckled, feeling the inhaled drug slowly send him into a relaxed state. He let his head comfortably rest against the back of the bed. “and I have my makeup that we can use! Think you can show me how to perfect the winged liner look? I’m shit at doing it on myself.” He huffed.

“I am not gonna start calling you Dieter that all knowing! There’s no way in hell I’m going to grant you all that power!” You nudged his shoulder gently with your own before you took a long drag from the joint, holding the smoke in your lungs before slowly exhaling it. “Of course I can help you with your eyeliner, Dee! Only if you let me pick out your nail color this time.”

“Okay, deal!” He was quick to respond with zero hesitation in his chipper tone.

So, after you each took a few more drags from the joint and your minds began to go hazy, Dieter lazily got up and walked into the en-suite to grab his bag of makeup from the bathroom cabinet. When he returned, you had grabbed your overnight bag and already had all of your nail products laid out.

“Damn, did ya bring your entire collection from home with ya?” He teased as he plopped down next to you. His movements were uncoordinated due to the drug coursing through his veins. He nearly fell into your lap, giggling and quietly apologizing as he sat back up. This was a normal occurrence for you and Dieter. Whenever the two of you would get high together, (which was frequent), you both became naturally affectionate and extremely touchy with one another. It was second nature, and something that neither you or Dieter ever thought about as being ‘weird’ and not the norm for most platonic friendships.

“Go big or go home, right Dee?” You had already picked out a pretty sparkly blue polish for his nails and set it off to the side.

“Absolutely, bug. Hey, can you do my makeup first, please?” He had his hands clasped in his lap, nervously twiddling his thumbs as if he was a child waiting to be reprimanded by his parents.

“Of course I can.” You said softly, and grabbed the makeup bag from his lap. “Hey, are you okay?…”

He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily and shook his head. “No, not really. I’m fucking pissed off about what happened down there with my ex.”

You nodded in understanding and stood up to grab one of his many pillows so that he would have something comfortable to lay against while you would do his makeup. “I gathered that.”

“That’s because you’re always reading the room, bug.” He chuckled, grabbing the pillow from you so that he could place it under his back. Once he was situated, he patted his thighs, beckoning you to come sit in his lap. (Doesn’t everyone straddle their best friend and do their makeup?)

“Am I?” You mused and wasted no time to straddle his hips, making yourself comfortable above him. He was looking up at you with that sparkle in his irises that only appeared around you. It was as if you were the reason why the sun shined, and the stars twinkled in the sky. You were too busy going through his bag of makeup to catch the look, and when your eyes did land upon his face, he looked like he was going through constricting emotions.

“Yeah, you’re really good at doing that, y’know?” He sighed, feeling his shoulders deflate and sink against the pillow.

“Do you want to talk about what happened, Dee?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, letting his hands gently rest around your hips, thumbs stroking the sliver of skin visible under your shorts in a soothing figure eight motion. “I mean, who the fuck just shows up to someone’s slumber party uninvited?”

“Well, she’s never really respected your boundaries, has she? Remember when you forgot to leave your phone in your dressing room at the Oscars, and when you were reading out the nominees and she called you, despite knowing that you were at the Oscars?” You grabbed his little bottle of toner and a couple cotton rounds, softly telling him to close his eyes.

He closed his eyes, flinching slightly when the cool mist of the toner kissed his skin. He relaxed further into the pillows when you gently patted the toner into his skin with the cotton round. “Yeah, that was a fucking disaster! I just remember going all red in the face and fearing that my career with the rest of the Hollywood assholes was over at that point.”

“I’m pretty sure she made that move out of spite, Dee. Y’know, because you didn’t ask her to be your plus one?”

He peeked one eye open to look up at you, “that’s because you’ve attended every single red carpet event with me, bug. It’s…tradition.” (Yeah, sure it is, Dieter. Just tradition.)

“I’m not justifying her behavior by any means, but I can understand why she was upset that you invited your best friend over your girlfriend to the Oscars.” You set the bottle of toner down and grabbed his usual moisturizer and squirted a few pumps onto your fingers and rubbed it into his skin.

“Yeah, I guess when you put it that way it does sound pretty fucked up huh? But I don’t think I deserved to be cheated on.” His lips curved into a downwards pout, brows furrowed intently.

“Oh, of course not, hun. Cheating is never justifiable.” You reassured him, reaching into the makeup bag and pulled out his primer, foundation and concealer. “Do you wanna do a full look or something on the more no makeup/makeup side?”

“So then why did she try to justify her reason for cheating on me? Not only that, she tried to sweet talk her way back in towards the end of the conversation. Oh, Dieter, I’m so sorry!” He scoffed, “she even pulled the baby card on me! I know I’m not the most emotionally intelligent individual 99% of the time, and I’ve struggled my whole life taking much of anything serious, but I still have a fucking heart despite what the tabloids gossip about.” He paused mid-venting, remembering what you had asked him, “surprise me, bug.”

“She pulled the baby card on you? What a fucking cunt move, honestly.” you shook your head. “Dieter, you have one of the biggest hearts in all of Hollywood, hun. You just don’t share it with everyone and that’s okay. Those tabloids are a load of crap. I told you before that you have to stop feeding into their agenda. It’s not worth it, Dieter.”

“Exactly! It was a cunt move. And if I didn’t realize my worth sooner, I probably would have fallen right back into a relationship with her again! You know what I’m starting to believe? Maybe…I just have to accept the fact that no one is ever gonna love me.”

You let out a sigh, reaching back into the makeup bag and pulled out one of his glitter shadows to apply on his eyelids. He let out a content hum when your fingers began to gently card through his damp curls while your other fingers began to gently pat the shimmery shadow onto his closed eyelids. “Dieter, don’t you fucking start that shit and claiming that no one is ever going to love you.”

“Well, it’s true! I can’t fucking hold a healthy relationship down to save my life! I’m the laughing stock of Hollywood, days away from fucking relapsing, and no one is gonna give a shit!”

“Dude, what are you talking about?” You fought the urge to laugh, not at him, of course, but at the situation at hand. “I love you, idiot. You are not the laughing stock of Hollywood, and you will not fucking relapse under my watch, Dieter.”

“Bug, I know you love me, and I love you too! But…that’s different. What I’m talking about is real, true love—ow!” He whimpered when you had accidentally poked his eye with your nail.

You weren’t even paying attention when he started rambling about true love and that the way he loved you was completely different…it stung and sent your heart straight through a shredder, and he had no idea!

“Shit, Dee! I’m so sorry—are you okay? My finger slipped.” Your palm came to rest around his scruffy jawline, leaning in close to make sure that you hadn’t accidentally poked his eye out with your fingernail. Your warm breath gently fanned his face as he blinked a few times to surpass the dull sting he felt on his cornea.

“I’m okay, bug. But damn, girl! Are you trying to poke my eye out or something?” He joked, trying to relieve the palpable tension growing between the two of you.

You were quick to change the subject, feeling slightly embarrassed that you allowed his words to affect you that much. You reached for the joint that was resting along the rolling tray and picked it up between your two fingers along with the lighter. “I’m going to take a couple more hits…you want any?” You asked while sparking the joint up, taking a deeper inhale this time to try and soothe your already scrambled brain.

He nodded, reaching his hand up to pluck the joint from between your lips after you were finished and placed it between his own and took a similarly deep drag. He looked so fucking pretty, laying there, joint hanging low between his lips, shimmering eyeshadow making his rich brown eyes stand out even more.

“Y’know…” he started, “if ya take a picture, it’ll last longer!” He mused, taking another long drag, blowing the smoke off to the side. When you didn’t immediately laugh at his weak attempt to ease the tension further, he frowned. “Hey, you okay? You’re never this quiet, bug. Even when you’re high.”

“I’m fine, Dieter.” You sighed, and went to slide off his lap, forgetting about doing his eyeliner when his hand resting around your hip tightened and you freezed under his touch.

“Hey, please don’t lie to me. Did I say something to upset you? I’m sorry if I did.” He was always so genuine in his apologies to you. He could claim to not know how to read the room, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Dee, I’m fine.” You reassured him. “I was just having a moment.”

“Well…stop that! It’s not allowed when we’re having a sleepover.” He really just couldn’t stand to see you upset. It tore him up inside and made him feel like he was always the root cause for your mood change.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, giving his cheek a light pat while your other hand ruffled through his hair. “Do you still want me to do your eyeliner?”

“Yes please.” He grinned. “Just promise to not poke my eye out again?”

“I promise, Dee.”

While you carefully began to apply the eyeliner to his eyelids with careful precision, he continued to ramble on underneath you, careful to not move too much because he really didn’t want to accidentally get poked in the eye. Once you were finished, you expected him to immediately want to check how he looked in the mirror, but instead, he switched positions with you, straddling your hips now so that he could do your makeup.

You didn’t protest, of course. You’d take any excuse to admire his handsome features up close while he was zoned in on his work, his muse being you. Whenever he was painting, his focus was intense and it was as if he had tuned out everything else around him. He acted all the same while he was gently applying a shimmer shadow to your eyelids.

The intimacy simmering between the two of you was becoming too much for you to handle. You could feel him through his too-tight boxers, the weight of his cock pressing right against your clothed center. Despite knowing Dieter for as long as you have, you never had seen his cock, only just the outline of it. However, you heard the stories from his past partners, flings, and even some colleagues. They were all shocked to hear that you yourself had not seen Dieter Bravo’s package.

The walls in his spacious bedroom felt like they were closing in on you from how flustered you were feeling. Surely there was sweat beginning to bead and perspire along the column of your throat and behind your neck. Perhaps there was even an evident sign of your arousal between your thighs. You hoped to god that he hadn’t caught on. But when his hips shifted forward, his tongue poking out between his lips while he carefully applied a swipe of eyeliner across your right eyelid, it was too much.

“Hey—Dee? I’m not feeling too hot. Think the weed is messing with me. I—I think I’m gonna shower and go to bed.” You stuttered out, trying to focus on the words coming out of your mouth and not the images of his thick cock—

He frowned, looking deflated when you said that you wanted to go to bed. “Oh—okay, bug. I understand. Do you wanna watch a movie or something? I’ll get you some food and water, okay? Maybe you’re just having a bad trip?” He was genuinely concerned, feeling slightly nervous that his trusted dealer had laced his stash with something, but he didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole just yet.

“No—I just…I want to shower and go to bed, Dieter. I’ll be fine. It probably is just a bad trip.” You reassured him and subtly tried to create any form of distance between the two of you to relieve the tension you were feeling.

The weed is only enhancing what I’m feeling right now. If he could see the thoughts going through my head right now—

“If you are having a bad trip, then I should stay with you, bug. I don’t want anything to happen to you—”

“Dieter.” You were on the edge of snapping and saying something you would inevitably regret, “I don’t want you to stay with me, okay? I just want to fucking shower and go to bed.”

Ouch.

He visibly recoiled, feeling like you had just stabbed him right in the gut and twisted the knife for good measure. Maybe I am the clingy one…

“Okay, okay. I understand. I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.” He wanted to snap right back at you, but he didn’t have the heart in him to do so.

“Thank you.” You breathed out, and when he didn’t immediately uncage your thighs from under his hips, you took matters into your own hands and placed your palm flat against his chest, gently pushing him off of you so you could quickly stand up.

He felt his heart twist even further when you disappeared into the en-suite, slamming the door behind you. He wasn’t sure if it was done maliciously or on accident, it still fucking hurt.

Seconds later he hears the sink turn on and the sound of water splashing against your face. It felt wrong to leave you in this state, so even after he heard the shower turn on while he was cleaning up the strewn about makeup on the floor, he sat down against the door, his back leaning against it as he waited. For what? He really didn’t know the answer to that.

You knew that Dieter was concerned about your well being, and if he could have it his own way, he would be in the bathroom with you right now, sitting with his back facing you so that you would feel comfortable to shower. You also were aware that he was sitting against the bathroom door and your heart lurched at the thought. You felt the guilt swim and swirl around you. Snapping at your best friend was not on your bingo card for the night, but maybe this was a sign that you and Dieter needed to set some serious boundaries between one another. Maybe you were beginning to realize that the two of you were…too close.

“Can you just…let me know you’re okay in there?” You heard him ask through the door as the scalding hot water streamed down over your bare body.

“Dieter, I’m fine.” Your voice was muffled under the stream.

“Yeah, sure you are, but I’d be a terrible fucking friend if I just left you to deal with this bad trip on your own, bug.”

God dammit, Dieter. Why can’t you just be an asshole like a normal person?! Is what you really wanted to say.

“Okay…” you trailed off, “I’m going to be in here for a while.”

“That’s okay. You can use up all of my hot water. I don’t care.” He reassured you.

When you didn’t immediately respond he let out a sigh, resting his head back against the door, closing his eyes. He remembered that your phone was still playing music from where it sat on his nightstand next to his own, and the familiar tune of Pink Pony Club started playing. It was yours and Dieter’s favorite song off of Chappell’s album.

“I know you wanted me to stay, but I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA. And I heard that there's a special place, where boys and girls can all be queens every single day.”

Dieter Bravo could not fucking sing, but everytime that he did for you, it was the most endearing gesture ever.

“You fucking asshole.” You muttered under your breath, “I'm having wicked dreams of leaving Tennessee. Oh, Santa Monica, I swear it's calling me. Won't make my mama proud, It's gonna cause a scene. She sees her baby girl, I know she's gonna scream…”

“God, what have you done! You're a pink pony girl, and you dance at the club! Oh mama, I'm just having fun! On the stage in my heels, it’s where I belong down at the Pink Pony Club!” You and Dieter sung the chorus in unison, completely out of tune, but neither of you could give a fuck about that.

You could practically picture his dopey, weed-stained grin plastered on his handsome, scruffy face behind the door when you sang the chorus together. The mental image sent your heart surging out of your chest, and your pussy pulsing in tandem.

Fuck me.

You truly had just planned to take a hot, relaxing, mind clearing shower and then go straight to bed, but you were feeling bothered by the weed, and your blatantly obvious attraction towards your best friend. Not to mention, the little rasp in Dieter’s voice was not helping you out in this predicament, either. That’s when you noticed his attached shower head and the lightbulb went off in your weed-induced brain.

You reached for the attached shower head, gently removing it from where it was mounted against the shower wall. Before turning it on, however, you quickly got familiar with the numerous spray settings and chose the medium spray before slowly dragging the shower head between your legs and—oh, fucck.

The pressure was just right and was directly spraying a stream of water onto your exposed clit. You held back a moan, bringing the back of your hand to your mouth and bit down as you slowly sank to your ass along the shower wall, your thighs spread fully, eyes rolling back into your skull from the intense feeling. That’s when a moan slipped past and Dieter initially thought he was just hearing things, but then he heard it again…and his cock twitched to life beneath the tight confinements.

“There’s no way. I’m just high as shit right now and hearing things. Yeah, that’s the logical explanation!” He muttered to himself, scrubbing one hand down his face. But then he heard you distinctively moan, and his face suddenly felt hot to the touch. He pressed his ear against the door, raising his fist and gently knocked on the wood, “you uh—you okay in there?”

You were so close to hitting that big ‘o’ that you didn’t even hear Dieter’s low rasp through the door.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You whimpered. “So fucking close, just a little more. Just a little more. C’mon, baby.”

Now that he could hear you more clearly, he knew exactly what was producing those little desperate sounds to slip past your pretty lips: his fucking shower head.

“Excuse me?? Are you getting yourself off with MY shower head, without me in there?!” It was a thought that he had meant to keep in his head, but now that it was out there, there was truly no going back.

You froze like a deer caught in headlights, immediately dropping the shower head from your loose grasp and it clattered to the shower floor just as the bathroom door burst open.

“Dieter—WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” You screeched, hair drenched, thighs spread and trembling.

He shut the door behind him, muttering under his breath as he approached, looking you right in the eyes, “more importantly, what are you doing?” He placed his hands on his hips. “Your little moans and whimpers made me rock fucking hard!” He gestured to the obvious tent in his boxers, his cock straining against the tight material. “Had I known it was gonna be that kind of sleepover, I would have joined you a heck of a lot sooner!”

Oh. My. God. This isn’t happening, is it?!

“Dieter, you can’t just fucking come in here when I’m masturbating! Dude—what the fuck!”

“Oh, heavens! Are we going back to the 1800’s or something? Just call it for what it is! You playing with your pussy, and using my shower head to get yourself off! By all means, please continue, but next time? I want a personal invite!”

You were appalled…and a little turned on? Okay, a lot turned on! In fact, your pussy was pulsing between your thighs, the edge of your interrupted orgasm was still simmering, waiting to fully bloom. To make matters worse, Dieter had crouched down outside of the shower, his brows furrowed when he noticed the setting you had set the shower head to. He tsked under his breath, shaking his head as he reached into the shower and picked up the shower head from where it had been dropped between your spread thighs.

“Dieter, what are you—”

“Hush and listen to the teacher, okay? For starters, you’re using it all wrong. You gotta build yourself up first, and then go full blast. Otherwise you’re just gonna overstimulate your poor little clit, and that just takes away from the experience.” He said in the most casual fashion, as if this wasn’t crossing a million different invisible boundaries all at once.

“Dieter, I don’t need your assistance on getting myself off, okay? Please just—”

“Bug, don’t make this weird, okay? We’re friends, and there’s nothing in the friends handbook that says that we can’t help one another get off! It’s totally not forbidden.” He retorted.

“I think you just made the whole friends handbook thing up. It totally doesn’t exist and we absolutely should not be doing this, Dieter! It’s wrong for a multitude of reasons!”

“The friends handbook totally exists! I’ll get you a copy, okay? I’m not going to touch you, unless you want me to. I’m just gonna use the shower head to show you the right way to get yourself off with it, and afterwards you will be thanking me!”

“I can’t believe I’m about to agree to this. I cannot fucking—”

“Best start believing it, baby! Now, spread your thighs for me a little more, okay?”

“Okay, I’m giving you my full consent, but if I start feeling weird, we’re stopping this whole thing, okay?” You looked him directly in the eyes as you spread your thighs further so he had a better view.

“Bug, if at any point you feel weird, uncomfortable, or want to stop, just tell me, okay? I’m not gonna pressure you to continue doing this if you don’t want to. I’m leaving the ball completely in your court, and my feelings won’t be hurt if you change your mind, okay? I promise.” His words were sincere, and it was hard to look away when he was staring at you with those big, brown, puppy dog eyes.

“Okay.” You nodded.

He leaned forward then, briefly getting caught under the stream when his lips brushed across your forehead, leaving you both feeling slightly stunned. He softly asked you if it was okay if he did touch you, to which you obliged, lower lip taken between your teeth when his hand that wasn’t holding the shower head slowly dipped between your thighs and his fingers spread your slick folds apart so he would have better access to your clit.

“I always knew that your pussy would be pretty, baby, but goddamn—she really is so fucking pretty.” He took a sharp inhale of breath, his cock twitching painfully in his boxers.

“Dieter Bravo, you’re going to be the death of me.” You breathed out, heat rising to your cheeks from the way he was gazing at the spot between your thighs, eyes glazed over the same way a dog looks at a delicious bone, or a plate of juicy, rare, steak.

“You’re already the death of me, bug.” He whispered, unable to help himself when his thumb gently brushed across your clit. He swallowed hard, trying to focus on the task at hand but between you prettily spread out beneath him, and the weed still flowing through his system, he was fucked.

He changed the setting on the shower head without even having to look down at it. He was too focused on your face, particularly your eyes and how you both seemed to be drinking one another in, an invisible string tied between the two of you, reeling him in closer, and closer. You observe his face, and the way his eyeliner has now started to run and bleed under his eyes and down his cheeks from the water and steam. Your pussy clenches from the sight just as his thumb lightly presses against your clit, making slow, languid, figure eight motions.

He thinks he wants to kiss you—no, scratch that. He wants to kiss you, and you can tell by the way his eyes flicker from your face and down to your lips, and then back up again.

“Dieter…” you whisper, bringing your hand up to gently cradle his face in your palm, curling your pointer finger under his chin. “Do you want to kiss me?” Your warm breath fans his face as he slowly nods.

“Yeah, I do.” He rasped, slowly leaning in.

“So kiss me, you fool.”

And so he did, but instead of hesitating, and holding back, he dove right in, noses pressing into one another as he licked greedily into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours while his hand holding the shower head angled it right against your exposed pussy and between his fingers where he was keeping you spread open.

“Oh fuck!” You whimpered into the kiss, keeping your one hand anchored around his jaw while the other came to rest at the back of his head, your fingers tangled through his drenched locks, tugging on them gently.

“Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it, baby? Told ya so.” He snickered into your lips, kissing you deeper. “Lower water pressure builds you up slower, drawing your orgasm out to last longer, and it’ll feel 10x more intense.”

“Mhm.” You mumbled into his lips, scooting your hips closer to the stream of water, and to him.

“Greedy little pussy, huh? Can’t get enough, can ya?” He teased.

“Dieter…” you warned him, playfully biting down on his lower lip and tugging it out gently before releasing it.

“I know, I know.” He chuckled and reluctantly detached himself from the kiss, pecking your lips once before he sat back on his thighs to give himself any form of relief. “You wanna give yourself a whirl while I go take care of this er—in privacy?”

Your cheeks were puffed out, lips swollen with his kisses as you stared up at him dumbfounded. “Are you insane? Just get in here with me, Dieter. Right now.”

He blushed, turning bright red all the way to the tips of his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly turning all bashful as if he wasn’t just talking about your greedy little pussy seconds ago. “Are you…sure? I really don’t mind! I can just go jerk off in my bed like a normal person—”

“Dieter.” Your tone sounded strained, “get in the fucking shower now. Take those ridiculously tight boxers off and get in here.”

Well, you certainly didn’t need to ask Dieter Bravo twice as he scrambled to peel his boxers down over his hips and thighs, tossing the damp fabric outside of the shower. His cock bobbed between his thighs, hard, heavy and the tip was swollen a painful red color. Poor guy.

He climbed over you, situating himself and his cute little tush right next to you with his shoulders gently brushing yours. He spit a glob of saliva into his palm and wrapped his fist around the veiny girth of his cock. “I’ll come fast, I promise. You won’t even have to do anything, okay? Just pretend I’m not here!” His tone was rushed as he squeezed the base of his cock, lolling his head to the side so he could look over at you. His eyeliner was completely smudged now and his lips were swollen with your kisses.

All you could do was nod dumbly, your eyes transfixed by his fist wrapped around his cock. It was as if you were seeing a unicorn for the first time! The unicorn being er—Dieter’s cock.

He looked at your face, and then down at his cock, and then back up at your face. “Hello?” He waved with his freehand, “why are you looking at my cock like that, huh? Are you the only person in the whole state of California who hasn’t seen my cock before?” He was in disbelief, his mouth falling open when he realized that you never had seen his cock.

"I totally thought you'd seen his dick. Practically everyone else has." You remember his ex cruelly teasing you about it one day.

You shook your head, eyes glazed over as you watched his fist slowly twist and pump around his length. “Nope. First time, and it’s like I’m looking at a unicorn!” You exclaimed playfully.

Dieter snorted at your enthusiasm, feeling his heart lurch from his chest, “well, it is sorta like seeing a unicorn for the first time…I suppose?” He chuckled, squeezing the base of his cock for some form of relief. He felt like now was the best time to address the obvious elephant in the room, silly Dieter. “So uh—well, this doesn’t mean anything, right? Because we’re just friends and good friends masturbate together. It's cool, this is super casual!”

Sure, bud. You keep telling yourself that.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes and clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, spreading your thighs further so you could continue your ministrations with the shower head. “Sure, Dieter. This means absolutely nothing. Just two besties jerking it off, side by side. Totally casual!”

He let out a huff as he pumped his fist faster, “Well, we wouldn’t be in this predicament if those noises you were making didn’t make my cock as hard as a slab of concrete!”

“Dieter, shut up, and get yourself off! Or so help me—”

“Yes ma'am!” He squeaked out.

In tandem you placed the shower head close to your clit once more while he fisted his cock, and when your moans started to intermingle and become one, that’s when your glazed over eyes met once more. He had his lip harshly taken between his teeth, his cock was twisting and pulsing beneath his fist. He leaned in close, lips just barely brushing your bare shoulder where he had dipped his head down to nuzzle you. His eyes flickered upwards towards your face, pupils darkening by the second, “I really want to fuck you right now, baby.” He rasped.

You met his gaze, thighs trembling and your eyes rolling slightly as your orgasm rippled through you, “yeah, you wanna fuck me, Dieter? How badly do you want to fuck me?”

“So fucking bad, baby. You’ve got no idea.” He mewled, “there’s that convenient bench right over there.” He gestured to the shower bench with a coy tilt of his chin, “you can sit right on my cock, if you’d like that…”

“Did you have that bench installed for convenience purposes or for your old man bad back?” You asked teasingly.

He narrowed his eyes at you, glaring playfully before he chuckled, “a bit of both. More-so on the convenience side of things. And, it’s newly installed so you and I would be the first to use it.” He winked coyly.

“Really? Well, your offer is most tempting, Bravo. I’d like to take you up on it and sit on your big fucking cock.”

“Now we’re talking.” He grinned, loosening his fist around his cock so he could offer you a hand and helped you up. Now you were both directly under the stream of water, hands roaming everywhere they could reach. You kissed deeply, giggling in unison when you grabbed his ass and he grabbed yours. He could happily live in this moment forever with you, even if it meant that his skin would inevitably prune and probably fall off.

You backed him up against the shower bench, climbing into his lap as he slowly lowered himself into a sitting position along the marble bench that could easily fit both of you.

You wrapped your own palm around the base of his cock for the first time as you slowly sank down around his girth till he was fully pressed inside of you, bottoming out with a low grunt against your lips. He let his arms loop firmly around your waist, pulling you in as close as he physically could so that your chests were pressed flushed together. He swore he saw heaven behind fluttered lashes when you started to slowly roll your hips into his, bouncing and grinding along his length.

If it wasn’t for his steadfast orgasm, he probably would have lasted longer before he was shooting thick ropes of his cum deep inside of you, but he was a man, after all. And while his cum leaked and dripped from your weeping little hole that was still stuffed full of his cock, he made sure that you got to come again, too. He pistoned his hips upwards at an unruly pace, loving the way that your nails clawed at his back and shoulders, leaving little red crescents in their wake. Maybe I’ll get those tattooed on me later. He briefly thought as you came undone around him, crying out his name.

You stayed seated on his cock for what felt like hours before he gently eased you off him, his cock now soft between his thighs and glistening in a thick, pearlescent ring of your combined releases.

You washed one another’s bodies under the lukewarm stream and he was the first to step out of the shower, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist and when you emerged, he had a towel waiting for you. You kissed a few more times, gentle pecks of intimacy as you stood side by side in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth and doing your skincare.

“Soo, where are you sleeping tonight?” He suddenly asked with a mouthful of toothpaste. His deep pools of brown boring into yours.

You hadn’t really thought that far if you were being honest…and now with that fresh ‘I just got fucked good’ glow illuminating your features, and the remainder of your high still sizzling, you suddenly feeling nervous all over again.

“Um, well, where do you want me to sleep?”

“I asked you first.” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for your response.

“Okay, fair, how about on the count of three we say it together?”

“Deal.” He nods.

“Okay—one, two, three—” you counted off in unison.

“Your bed—my bed.”

You both looked relieved at your answers, letting out breaths you didn’t realize you were holding. “Thank fucking god.” You both laughed.

He kissed you then, mouthful of toothpaste and all. You made a funny squeaking sound when he had unexpectedly kissed you, and the corners of his mouth curved up into a knowing grin. “I’ll get you one of my shirts to wear.” He mumbled into the kiss, pulling back slowly.

When you left the en-suite, you found Dieter already in bed, sitting up with the rolling tray resting in his lap. He had a fresh pair of boxers on, this pair was made of cotton and was far less constricting. He was rolling another joint to smoke before bed when he looked up, smiling softly at your lingering presence in the doorway, wearing nothing but his shirt.

“Well, don’t be shy, bug. Ain’t the first time you’ve slept in my bed.” He winked, patting the empty spot beside him on his massive king sized bed.

You took a deep breath, remembering that this was Dieter Bravo, your best friend and partner in crime. He would always be your best friend.

You made your way over to the empty side of the bed and pulled the covers back so you could climb underneath them.

He finished rolling the joint, grabbing his lighter from the nightstand to spark it up before he paused, looking over his shoulder at you. “Hey, we don’t have to like—do anything, okay?” He reassured you.

“But Dieter, I wanna do stuff with you. It’s just—in your bed it feels…” you trailed off, scratching at the outside of your arm absentmindedly.

He tucked the joint behind his ear and rolled over into his side so he was facing you, using his elbow to prop himself up, “I understand, baby. This is…new for me as well. We can smoke this joint and then make out a little? See where it goes?…”

You nodded, lips curving up into a soft smile that sent his heartbeat racing, “yeah, I’d like that.”

“Me too.” He grinned.

He sparked the joint up between you, taking a few hits before he passed it off to you. This went on a few more times before your bodies just naturally gravitated towards one another, and when the joint died out, he set it down on the tray on his nightstand before his lips found yours.

You kissed like this for hours, simply just enjoying one another’s company and soft touch when the sun began to rise over the Los Angeles landscape. Dieter was uncharacteristically quiet, even for being stoned.

Your fingers were gently dragging through the patches in his beard, playing with his scruff in between kisses. “I can hear you overthinking, Dee.”

“Are you a wizard?” He chuckled, “you can hear my thoughts? That’s crazy!”

“Shh.” You giggled. “I’m right here, baby. You don’t have to yell.”

“Sorry.” He whispered, scooting his body closer to yours. He would absolutely crawl inside of your skin and never leave, but well—-he might go to prison if he did that.

“I’m gonna say something that might sound stupid, but I gotta get it off my chest, okay?” He started, his glazed over eyes met yours as he pressed a few kisses to the underside of your fingertips.

“I’m listening.”

“Okay, so—well, this is just different for me because I don’t normally fuck my friends.”

You gave him a funny look at his admittance, unable to help yourself.

“I’m serious! I don’t fuck my friends—and well, I care about you a ton.Maybe even more than I care about myself? Anyway, I don’t want things to get weird between us tomorrow. Like if you wake up and regret everything that happened, I just want you to tell me, okay? My hopes is that maybe you felt the little spark that I did and if you did we can—”

“Dieter, I promise you I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and regret everything that happened tonight. No matter where this takes us, I’m always going to love you, and you’re always going to be my best friend.” Your words were sincere and directly from your heart and he knew you weren’t just saying shit just to say it.

“I think I just shat my heart out, that was so sweet.” He giggles, nuzzling his nose against yours. “In all seriousness, thank you. I was just afraid that this would ruin our friendship, and I would lose you forever.”

“Never, Dieter. You could never lose me.” You reassured him.

“Good, cause in the morning? I’m making waffles!”

Helen Mirren: Narrator for the Barbie Movie:

Dieter did not in fact make waffles the next morning. Instead, Dieter had his breakfast between your thighs, and then let you order whatever brunch you wanted on his black card

"You can be my sugar baby! I get to eat you out and you can order whatever you want on my card." He murmured between your thighs, mouthful of your pussy.

"That's not how that sort of thing really works, Dieter. But yeah, okay."

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[inbloomwriting]

Everything to me - Chapter 2

Chapter two - Blueberry & Kidney Bean

Chapter 1

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.6k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. I tagged everyone who asked me to do it when I posted part 1. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

The store smells like dust and cardboard and old carpet. It's not necessarily a bad smell, it just doesn't live up to her memories.

She remembers the perpetual scent of menthol cigarettes and some kind of cheap men's perfume wafting through the air. The store used to smell like her dad and now it doesn't. And that just makes it all even more real.

Boxes upon boxes litter the room, filled with records. Some older, some newer. Guitars adorn one wall while the others are covered in posters from tours that happened long ago, some even before she was born.

There is something comforting about being here. It’s like stepping back into the past. Long nights watching Dad and his friends play their guitars after store-closing. Discovering new bands whenever a new shipment of records came in. And yes - she is the first to admit that in her younger years, she mostly chose the records by how cool the cover looked. 

It’s also memories of Dad getting caught up in the after-hours jam sessions and forgetting about her dance recital and that one time he threw a guitar at the window out of anger that a shipment of records got lost. It took him months to get the window replaced. She could probably still trace exactly where the crack used to be. 

Being here is very reminiscent in all the good and bad ways. But it’s a warped version of the past. One that’s laced with all the knowledge she has now. Like a movie that you’ve seen a million times.

“I don’t think pregnant women are supposed to be doing that!” 

Jamie’s voice cuts through the nostalgia-induced fog like a sunbeam through the clouds. And it also gives her a little heart attack as the only sound filling the room up until now had been her moving around and the soft tunes of an Eric Clapton record playing in the background.

“Jesus fuck! You scared me. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to startle pregnant women either and give them heart attacks.” 

He looks at her with those big expressive eyes of his and a comically overdone pout on his lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But seriously give me that.” 

He’s so quick to take the box of records from her hands (Y/N) hardly has time to process what’s going on. 

Quite honestly, his worry is a bit misplaced here but she appreciates the sentiment even if he might be a little overly cautious at that moment. It feels nice to be cared for. 

“You know I’m pregnant, not sick, right? I can carry stuff.” 

“Yeah but why would you if you got me carrying it for you?” 

He has a point, she has to give him that. 

“Fair enough. Those go over there in the corner please.” 

Jamie follows her order without hesitation and, after setting the box down in its designated place, his eyes dart across the room and light up with childlike wonder and curiosity.

“This used to be your dad’s place, yeah? It looks really neat with all them posters and shit. Like stepping into an old person’s mind but like a cool old person that buys you alcohol when you’re 15 and lets you watch horror movies when your mum said no.” 

Of all the adjectives in the world, (Y/N) wouldn’t ever think of using the word “cool” to describe her dad. He was creative and fun and eccentric and stubborn — but cool? 

Then again he was her dad and no one ever likes to think of their own parents as cool. Oh god, will their kid think she’s uncool?! 

“Uh yeah, the shop and the apartment right above us. He owned it, now I do. I’m trying to get it all fixed up and ready to be sold.”

“What? Why?” 

There is something to be said about Jamie’s face and his absolute inability to mask his emotions. Everything he thinks and feels is mirrored twice as vividly on his face. He’s all furrowed brows and pouty lips. 

“I mean — it’s a record store. People don’t really buy records anymore. Be honest, when was the last time you bought one instead of just streaming the music?” 

“Like two weeks ago.” 

“Fuck off, no you didn’t!” 

“Uh — yeah, I did. Olivia Rodrigo if you must know.” 

A soft giggle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. How fitting for Jamie to buy an album full of teenage angst. 

“Well, you’re one of very few people though. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to sell. I’d keep it open. Instead of selling instruments, it’d turn that part of the shop into a little stage with a coffee counter or a bar. Host open mic nights and shine a spotlight on undiscovered artists. But the world isn’t perfect and there is no way I can afford to turn that vision into reality so really there’s no use in letting myself get too caught up in it.” 

There is pity in his eyes and she hates it. She doesn’t want pity, not his or anyone else’s. Has seen enough of it, especially lately. If she had received just one more “Sorry for your loss” card in the mail from relatives she hadn’t seen in decades, she probably would’ve stabbed a fork in her own eye. Pity does no good to no one. 

“Anyway, Jamie. Not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you, it’s kind of necessary if we want to get this whole beings-friends-thing right, but uh — what are you doing here?” 

“Jesus, can’t a guy just come around to say hi to his baby? “ 

She thinks the way he says the word “Baby” in his thick accent is surprisingly and undeniably adorable. As if it ends in an “eh” instead of a “y”.

“By the way, they’re as big as a blueberry now.” 

And the way he’s keeping track of the baby's growth gets her right in the heart. For some reason, this seems to come so naturally to him when it all still feels weird and foreign and surreal to her. As if it were happening to someone else and she’s just a mere spectator. The idea that something as small as a blueberry will one day turn into a proper baby, a child, a teenager … a whole ass adult - is so wild to her. Almost incomprehensible. A person with their own feelings and dreams and personality. (Y/N) wonders if at any point in this pregnancy, she'll wake up and it'll all just make sense or if that only comes once she's holding the baby in her arms.

“That's cute. Doesn't answer my question though. What brings you here?”

A shadow of something flickers across Jamie’s face. Something unreadable and unfamiliar. Something that makes (Y/N) feel a sense of dread bubbling up in her stomach.

“I uh — I can’t do this.”

And there it is. That unfamiliar shadow is now a metaphorical atom bomb, a mushroom cloud of all that could have been and won’t be.

“Oh okay. I mean no, not okay. This sucks actually. You said you wanted to be part of the baby’s life and now you’re bailing? That’s a shit move, Jamie. You’re a right prick for pulling that crap.” 

“What? Oh no!” his eyes widen as the realization sets in. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well then what did you mean? Cause you’re truly giving me a heart attack right now. Second one for today. You really need to start working on your conversation starters.” 

She had given him the chance to opt out of being a dad, to not be a part of the baby’s life. It seemed like the right thing to do and, foolishly, (Y/N) had believed that she’d be okay with him doing just that. In this very moment though, she feels everything but okay. The idea of Jamie changing his mind is terrifying. 

Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you need something — or someone until you’re faced with the possibility of losing them.

“I mean, I can’t do this alone. I need to tell someone. All I keep thinking about is the baby and I feel like I am going to explode any second now. I know we can’t tell everyone yet ‘cause of — well you know, things going wrong and stuff. But I need to tell someone. You got to tell Rebecca and your mum, I think it’s only fair I get to tell two people as well, yeah?”

A sense of relief floods her. Starts in her toes and fills her all the way to the top of her head. He wants this — wants the baby. It’s not just her in this. It’s nice to know you have someone in your corner. It’s also scary. Because he deserves to know just whose team he’s on. And being vulnerable fucking sucks. 

“Jamie, that’s fine. Absolutely you can tell your mum.” 

“And Simon? You got two people so — “

“I didn’t though.” 

“Uh yes, you did. I know you told Rebecca.” 

“That’s right.”

“And your mum too”.

The silence that follows his words is deafening. Being vulnerable means also admitting guilt. It means owning up to all of your mistakes. Though we are not the sum of our mistakes, they are what help shape the person we become. And (Y/N) really doesn’t think they make her a very good one.

“And your mum too?” 

More silence.

“You didn’t tell your mum? Why not? “

To his credit, Jamie looks truly surprised and confused. There is no judgment there, just absolute bewilderment and that signature softness that rounds out his features and settles in his eyes whenever Jamie talks to her about something serious. Granted they’ve not had that many conversations but she hopes that softness stays. She hopes that maybe their baby can have those soft, gentle eyes too.

“I’m not sure. I think I’m scared. My mum and I have a — complicated relationship. I disappoint her, she judges me. You know, the usual.” 

“You think she’ll be disappointed because we're having a baby? Is it because of me?”

(Y/N) shrugs, breaking eye contact and fixing her gaze on the old grey carpet with the ugly 90s pattern. What if those soft eyes can look straight through her, see all the ugly parts and the insecurities? That’s too scary for now. Too much too soon.

“No, it has nothing to do with you. Think she’ll just be disappointed I didn’t get pregnant according to the timeline she dreamed up for my life when I was like 2 years old. Had it all planned out for me and I never stuck to it.” 

Jamie is quiet for a moment but (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look back up at him. She can’t deal with any more pity.

“Well if you want to practice telling a mum, we can start with mine.”

“Huh?” 

“You can come to Manchester with me if you want. To tell my mum. We’ll have one mum down then, makes it easier to do it a second time. It’s science.” 

Jamie has the fascinating quality of making you believe in his words just by being so undeniably charming and because he believes in them himself. He makes it look easy when it is everything but.

“And if things don’t go well with your mum at least you’ll know you have at least one mum you can rely on, even if it’s not your own. She raised me pretty much by herself so she knows a thing or two about babies and parenting and stuff.” 

The mocking raise of (Y/N)’s right eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by Jamie who opens his lips to a silent gasp and clutches his chest with an overly dramatic gesture. 

“What? You saying I didn’t turn out perfectly?”

“No,” she laughs, a lightness festering in her chest. Like the first rays of sunshine after a cold winter that never seemed to end. Like a glass of wine after a long day at work. Like your favorite song on the radio at the exact moment you need it most. “I think you turned out exactly the way you were supposed to.” 

“Thanks,” Jamie says with that cheeky smile playing on his lips that makes him look a little younger than he actually is. Then he dares to wink at her and it’s a little annoying but also insanely charming. “Not sure you meant it as a compliment but I am taking it. Now when are you free for a trip up to Manchester?” 

(Y/N)’s been on a lot of road trips around the country when she was younger. She’s even spent a whole summer traveling Europe, partially by train but most of the time was spent stuffed in a Fiat Punto with 3 of her friends and all their luggage. It was stuffy, it was chaotic and it was immensely fun. None of those road trips ever involved a shiny black Aston Martin Rapide though. 

Or a famous footballer dressed in the ugliest lime green sweater (Y/N) has ever seen. 

“That’s all the luggage you got?” Jamie questions as he moves the black shades off of his eyes and sets them on the top of his head, holding back some of his hair. It shouldn’t work so well but it does. 

“I mean, we’re only staying for a night right? Why? Should I have brought more? How much did you pack?” 

He glances at her, then towards the car, and back at her. A sheepish look crosses his face before being replaced by his childlike cheekiness. “That’s confidential. Don’t worry about it, yeah?” 

“I got my ginger lollies, that’s all that matters really.” 

“You feeling alright?” 

“Mh, I’m good. Just pregnant.” 

His eyes drop down to her stomach for just a second before he nods his head in what (Y/N) can only describe as a mix of pride and satisfaction. “Yeah, you are.” 

That’s new. Well not new-new but it hasn’t happened since the day of the funeral. That tingly feeling in her stomach that has fuck all to do with the baby and everything with how the baby got there. Yes, Jamie is hot and (Y/N) is the first to admit as much but there has been so much stress and chaos and she hardly had time to think about anything but surviving and making sure not to completely lose herself in bad visions of what-ifs that her brain has had no time to process any feelings of arousal or lust. That look he just gave her though, that one made her remember it for just a second.

“You sure you’re alright?” 

Jamie’s voice shakes her from her daydream and brings her back to the real world, her eyes focusing back on the obscene car parked in front of her tiny apartment building looking so insanely out of place.

“Uh yes, I’m fine. I just — sometimes I forget that you’re famous.” 

Jamie regards her for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and grabbing the bag from her hands. “I don’t. It’s fun. Now come on, let’s goooooo.” 

His voice is dipped in excitement and there’s a bounce in his step. If this is how the prospect of seeing his mother makes him feel and behave, she must be one lovely woman. Whenever (Y/N) thinks of her own mother her chest fills with tiny metaphorical icicles. Sharp and rough and painful. It’s all regret and judgment and disapproval. It’s “You gained weight”, “you look tired”, and “You should really look into getting a new job”. Daggers disguised as roses. Stabs right to the heart in the name of being honest. “I just care about you, because I love you, because I am your mother!” 

If there is one thing (Y/N) knows for sure, it’s that she will never ever find the need to resort to criticism and thinly veiled malice in order to show her child that she cares. They will know. Every single day. Because she’ll make sure to show them. Every single day in all the big and tiny ways a person can show their love. 

“Kidney Bean?”

“Kidney Bean. And apparently, the baby is sprouting webbed fingers and toes right now. Oh, and it’s starting to move!” 

“Can you feel that?” 

“No, not yet.” 

“It’s mental. Last week she was the size of a blueberry and now she’s a kidney bean. Kid’s growing up too fast.” 

It’s true. There is so much happening all at once and it’s almost impossible to really process it all. Suddenly there is a tiny spark of a human inside her. Not really a baby yet but a baby to her. And it's moving and developing and changing every second of every day. Fucking insane.

“Wait … you said she. You think it’s a girl?”

Maybe it’s the sunlight casting a glow through the windshield but (Y/N) is almost certain she can just about make out a blush dusting Jamie’s cheeks. 

“Dunno.”

“Jamie Tartt, do you want to be a girl dad?” 

He glances at (Y/N) through the corner of his eyes for just a moment but it’s enough for her to see the sincerity in him. This is something he’s thought about before. Learning new things about Jamie is fascinating.

“Ah,  it’s stupid, really. It’s — It’s dumb or whatever.” 

“No, come on, don't go shy on me now. Tell me.” 

He takes a deep breath. A moment passes then another. There is no rush. Sometimes silly thoughts are the result of harsh truths. 

“Told you my dad was a prick. Like the biggest piece of shit walking this earth, yeah? And I knew that all my life. Thing is I still tried to impress him. I just — I wanted him to like me so badly. Just felt wrong that me own dad didn’t care about me and that made me angry. And I kept that anger inside me for so long. Sometimes when I think about the baby and the future I am scared that if I have a son that anger will jump over to him. Like maybe all Tartt men are cursed or some shit like that. But if I had a little girl maybe that would make it easier for me to be a good dad. I don’t mind either way, obviously, but the idea of having a son scares me.” 

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been with her so far and by the way he clenches his jaw and grabs onto the steering wheel just a little tighter, (Y/N) can tell this isn’t easy on him. It means a lot that he shares this part of him with her anyway. It feels like they are actually becoming friends. So opening up to him in return is only half as horrifying. 

“When I was a kid, maybe 11 or 12, I wrote a short story for school and I won an award. They did this big ceremony thing where the 3 finalists got to read their stories out loud for an audience and then receive their prizes. My mum didn’t show up, not sure if it was because she stayed longer at the office and didn’t care enough to leave on time or if she just didn’t feel like getting out of the house. Point is, she wasn’t there. When I came home that night I was sad, obviously, and I was also pissed. Because why the fuck couldn’t she take one night off to come see me succeed at something even if it wasn’t something she deemed worthy of praise. 

So I yelled at her and I’m sure I said some hurtful things. But I was so devastated and angry and I needed an outlet for once. She called me ungrateful but I was used to that, she always called me ungrateful. Then she looked at me with that look of absolute resignation and malice and she said that she hopes I have a daughter like me one day and that she makes me realize how hard it is to love me. 

When I think of the baby, sometimes I see a little girl too. One that I will love so much she never has to doubt it for a single second. And I will also prove my mother wrong. Because it will be so easy to love my little girl and it would’ve been so easy to love me, her little girl.” 

It’s the first time she’s ever said those words out loud. Truly, (Y/N) had not expected for them to come out in an Aston Martin, on the way to meet her baby’s father’s mother but life doesn’t seem to care for plans very much these days.

Softly, as if to not startle her, Jamie places his hand on hers, squeezing gently.

“I think your mum is a right bitch.” 

“Thanks. I think your dad is a huge asshole.” 

“We’re gonna be better than them, right?” 

It’s not really a question. It’s more of a promise.

“We will. I know it.”

His hand doesn’t leave hers for a good long while. 

The nerves don’t hit her until they pull up to the quaint little house with the white front. There’s a rose bush to the side and some kids playing football just across the way. The nerves don’t hit her until Jamie puts the car in park but when they do, they hit her like a freight train.

“Woah, you alright?” 

“Huh?” 

“You look all pale and like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Do you have to puke?”

A chuckle falls from her lips at the absurdity of it all. In all honesty, she’s not met a lot of parents yet but the few she did meet were parents of actual partners. People she had been dating for a while. It was a natural progression of steps. This is all wrong and sideways and topsy-turvy. You’re supposed to meet the mum first and then get pregnant. 

Again with the life and the plans. 

“I’m fucking nervous.” 

“Hah,” Jamie laughs. The audacity of this guy. “You’re nervous to meet my mum? Why? She’s an angel.”

“Do you not know how intimidating that is? Like, if she was shit I wouldn’t care but she sounds wonderful and I want her to like me. No, I need her to like me. Desperately. And I can only imagine what she thinks of me already. Some floozy who gets knocked up and really just wants your money.” 

Before she even fully realizes what’s happening, (Y/N) feels Jamie’s hands on her cheeks, framing her face in warmth.

“Calm down, please. I promise it’ll be alright. My mum will love you, I know it. Probably more than she loves me. Actually no that’s a lie, but she will love you and she will love our baby. Promise.”

“She’s not gonna judge me for — you know. Getting pregnant even though we’re not dating or anything.” 

“My mum was married to my dad, worst person on planet Earth. Don’t think she’s in any position to judge you. It’ll be alright, trust me.” 

She hardly knows this man and yet she can’t help but do just that. Trust him.

The first thing (Y/N) notices about Georgie is her smile. A smile that is so familiar because it looks exactly like Jamie’s smile. Warm and radiant and true. A part of (Y/N) hopes that their baby inherits that same smile. Partially because it’s a really good smile and partially because maybe that could help Jamie realize that he is more than the sum of his father’s problems and mistakes. He is all his mother’s boy.

“Oh, I missed you, my baby.” 

Georgie wraps her arms around Jamie’s middle, getting swallowed by his frame for a moment. There’s no denying that part of (Y/N)’s heart breaks a little seeing how loving of a relationship these two have and wondering where she and her own mother went wrong.

And as it so happens with so many kids that have never been loved quite the way they deserved, (Y/N) can’t help but search for the problem in herself. 

“Yeah sorry for not visiting earlier. You know how it is with training and stuff.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I know my boy is busy being a star.” 

The words hold a slight mocking, never mean but in the way that only people who are close can tease each other. You know every word comes laced with deep affection, with pride, with love.

“And it’s so nice to meet you too. I’m Georgie.” 

It takes a second for (Y/N) to realize that Jamie’s mum is now talking to her directly.

“I uh — oh thank you. Nice to meet you too, I’m (Y/N).” 

Georgie smells like mint chewing gum and floral perfume as she pulls (Y/N) into a hug. She’s soft and gentle and it’s been the first hug from a mother (Y/N) has received in quite some time.

“Sorry, didn’t even ask if you’re a hugger.”

“Oh that’s alright, don’t worry about it.” 

She’s not a hugger, never really was, but there is something about Georgie granting her some affection that isn’t all that bad. Maybe their kid can have at least one grandmother who cares and who isn’t completely disgusted by the idea of showing any kind of positive emotions.

“Jamie never brings girlfriends around so I’m a bit out of my element here if I’m being honest.” 

“Mum we’re not — she’s not.” Jamie takes a big breath before starting again “(Y/N) and I are friends, yeah? Told you about it on the phone.” 

“Right, right. Well, you don’t bring around a lot of friends either so same difference, really. Now come inside will you, I’m sure we got a lot to catch up on.”

Oh if only she knew how true that sentiment really is.

There are pictures of Jamie staring back at (Y/N) from every corner of the house and Georgie leads them through the hallway and towards the kitchen. Every wall and every shelf holds a memory of him at one point in his life. Gap toothed with a football in hand smiling, surrounded by a field of tulips arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulder, his teenage self smoldering at the camera with an even more questionable haircut than the one he is sporting right now. Oh to be loved in a way that every past version of you is being remembered.

As they reach the kitchen a sweet scent fills the room when a man clad in an apron turns around and faces them with a huge smile playing on his face. He has a dorky kind of charm to him that immediately puts you at ease. Maybe it’s just the frilly apron, maybe it’s the big oven gloves, maybe it’s the smile. Either way, (Y/N) thinks that if they take the news well, her kid might have truly lucked out on one side of the grandparents department. 

“Jamie, welcome home.” 

“Hi Simon, thanks, mate. Glad to be back. This is (Y/N).” 

“The friend, right.” Simon says and shoots Georgie a look that neither of them misses. Subtlety doesn’t seem to be one of his best qualities. “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you too. It smells amazing in here.” 

“I found this new recipe for honey blondies. Not sure if they'll be any good but I guess we'll find out. If you guys want to go have a seat, I'll come bring them over.”

“Actually,” Jamie speaks up while nervously fiddling with his hands. “I was hoping we could have a talk before we do anything else. There’s something I need to tell you both.” 

Imagining the hypothetical scenario of telling your mum you’re having a baby and actually doing it really are two completely different things it seems. Gone is all of Jamie’s confidence and replaced with a whole lot of anxiety. 

“You're worrying me, Jamie. What has you acting so serious? Did you get someone pregnant or something?”

Georgie's words are followed by a thick awkward silence. It's heavy and suffocating and it makes (Y/N) feel uneasy in both her heart and her head.

It doesn't take long for Jamie’s parents to realize what his silence means. Everything communicated by not saying a single word.

“Oh, fuck.”

And there's nothing to add to Georgie's reaction. It's the exact same one (Y/N) had when she first saw those faint blue lines.

Of all the possible outcomes and ways this day could’ve gone, (Y/N) had not expected to find herself staring at not only a curly-haired Roy Kent but also come face to face with two very persuasive arguments belonging to no other than Keeley fucking Jones. 

“This is surreal.” 

The posters stare back at her all crinkled paper and bleached ink, as if to mock her silently. 

“Ah, well I told them to redecorate when I moved out, think they just haven’t gotten around to it yet.” 

A light dusting of pink settles on the apples of Jamie’s cheeks as well as the tips of his ears. This man can’t hide his emotions for the life of him. It’s quite adorable really. 

“Do they know?” 

“Does who know?” 

“Roy and Keeley. Do they know you have their pictures up in your room?”

“Well no and It’s not my room anymore, is it? ‘S not like I have ‘em hanging at home. Put these up ages ago.” 

A giggle slips through (Y/N)’s lips at his desperate attempt to talk himself out of this situation. 

“It’s okay, Jamie. I won’t tell.” 

“There’s nothing to tell, alright?” he responds in mock offense before sitting down on his childhood bed next to (Y/N). “Just liked boobs and football and those two were the best those fields had to offer, yeah? Can’t really blame me.” 

“Not much has changed has it?”

He shrugs his shoulders in response “Nah. Still like boobs and football but no way I’d put up a poster of granddad’s ugly mug nowadays.”

From the few times they talked about his job, including his teammates and coaches, (Y/N) was able to gather that Jamie’s relationship with Roy is something special. Odd, but special. Maybe that’s what happens when you end up working with your childhood idol. Either way, no matter how much shit he likes to talk about him, it’s clear that Jamie respects and admires Roy a great deal still.

“And uh — and Keeley?” 

“What about her?” 

“Is she — are you — how are things?” 

She still remembers that crestfallen look on his face on the day of the funeral. That infinite sadness in his eyes. She hadn’t put two and two together at that moment but later that night it all clicked. Keeley was the woman he was in love with, the woman who did not love him back. And while (Y/N) knows that she and Jamie are only bound together by happenstance and fate — if one chooses to believe in that, and that there is nothing romantic about their situation, it does sting a little to know that the man you’re having a baby with is in love with someone else.

“We’re good. We’re friends, think that’s all we’ll ever be. Her and Roy, they’re happy and I don’t want to ruin it for either of them. Keeley and I just were not right together.” 

“And you’re okay with that?” 

He nods his head, a small smile playing on his lips “Yeah, I’m alright with it. If I hadn’t made a fool of myself at the funeral then you and I wouldn’t have — you know, and then we wouldn’t be having a baby. Little Kidney Bean.” 

“That’s true. Your mum seemed excited.” 

“Hah, sorry about her. She can be intense.” 

Intense might be the understatement of the century. It took her approximately 2.3 seconds to get over the initial shock of the announcement and really process it before Georgie let out a scream of pure excitement and joy and wrapped both Jamie and (Y/N) up in her arms. She didn’t fully let go for a good 20 minutes. It was intense. It was also phenomenal.

“Don’t apologize. I am so glad she took it so well, Simon too. At least now I’ll have the certainty that my baby will have one set of loving grandparents at least.” 

“Hey,” Jamie says and nudges her shoulder with his “We’ll sort out telling your mum next, okay. I’m sure it’ll go better than you think. And if not we can always call up my mum for some more hugs and a pep talk. Whatever happens, you won’t have to do it alone. I promise.” 

For what is probably the first time in her life (Y/N) lets herself believe that there truly is someone else having her back, undisputedly and all the way. It’s unfamiliar. It’s a little scary. It’s also wonderful.

“Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate it, I really do. Think so far we’re doing alright, huh?” 

“I’d say so. Two sexy parents and a little Kidney Bean.” 

Their laughter echoes through Jamie’s childhood bedroom for quite a while longer until at some point it stills and gives room to soft breathing and quiet snores. The bed isn’t meant for two grown adults and really Jamie truly meant to sleep on the couch but somewhere between talks of baby clothes and childhood memories, eyes grew heavy and tired, and soon enough both of them are fast asleep.

Just them and their little Kidney Bean 

— and a curly-haired Roy Kent 

— and Keeley’s boobs.

taglist (@ me if you want to be taken off or added): @captainfrisbee - @scaramou - @mischiefmanaged71 - @rexorangecouny - @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog - @tweasley20 - @dreamtrydoforkinggood - @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo - @heletsmelovehim - @snubug - @katdahlali - @oldglitterstory - @lalla-04p - @aiyaiy

[carbondioxda]

Too hot to cuddle

Prince Zuko x reader<3

c/w: fluffy, too hot to cuddle trope (reverse trope), hot weather conditions, the reader is a girl, reader is a waterbender, no use of y/n, third person, frozen elsa reference don’t even ask, harsh language cause what the fuck is this weather

a/n: had this in my drafts for months but I just finished it because I’m living through a heatwave nightmare right now and actually feeling like reader. This is horrible. It’s 35 Celcius and my ass is tweaking

sorry for any mistakes! english isn’t my first language. and the way I write dialogue might be different than what you’re used to

The air was suffocating. It felt as if she was breathing some kind of piping hot spores instead or oxygen. The girl was laying in a bed, that was way too warm for comfort and as embarrassing as it was, she swore she felt a sweat puddle on the mattress underneath her.

The fact that her boyfriend happened to be a firebender was making things even worse now. Firebenders are naturally warmer than others, maybe to adapt to the heat when they're fighting or for god knows what other reason. Still, Zuko's toned hands on her waist were making her feel as if he's gonna burn her body alive. They made her get those heat waves all over her, worse than chills every now and then.

"I'm gonna melt. Not in the good way." - she thought to herself. It's not like she wanted to get up. It was a cute little routine of theirs to cuddle and sleep together, ever since her and Zuko started traveling together.

However, The Earth Kingdom's summer nights were unbereable. Besides, that the little hut they rented was made for winter season, so it kept all of the warmth in. No wonder it was so cheap in this time of the year, anybody would go insane in those conditions.

She finally got up and sat on the bed. The hairs on her forehead were sticking to her skin and she had a sudden urge to chug a few litres of ice cold water. This was bad.

- You okay? - Zuko half-whispered, his voice cracking from tiredness.

- Yeah, it's just...hot as hell in here. - she got up and went to the bathroom. She was too exhausted to take a glass, so she drank right from the sink. The bed creaked, meaning that he also got up.

- Are you sure everything's okay? - he rubbed his eyes, speaking in his hoarse, tired voice.

- I feel like I'm melting. It's so hot I swear I'm gonna suffocate. - she said, gulping the water. Even the water didn't seem to be cold enough for her liking, so she had to chill the water with her waterbending.

- I guess it is a little warmer today. - he mumbled, finding her state funny somehow. The heat never bothered him anyway. She noticed him looking around and trying to think of some evil plan, as always.

- A little warmer today…for the love of god. What are you looking at? - she asked, catching eye contact with him in the mirror. He was staring somewhere.

-Nothin'

- You've been staring at the...- she turned to where he was looking. - …bathtub?

- No I wasn't. - he shrugged. His actions didn't really match his words, as he turned the faucet on and plugged the drain.

- Are you seriously gonna take a bath now? It's 2 am.

- No. But you are. - he said, lifting her up bridal style and putting her into the bathtub. Before she could register what's happening, she was in the water, fully clothed.

- whattHEFUCK?! - she shouted, almostjumping when her pijama got wet in the cold water, that splashed around from the impact of her hitting it. It was a shock for a second and then, it was....nice? The air wasn't so suffocating anymore and her skin wasn't burning.

- You'd overheat if I didn't do that. - he smiled and sat down on the floor next to her.

- You could've given me a heads up. Now my clothes are wet.

- They were wet from the sweat anyway. I could’ve told you but naah, seeing your reaction was better. It's not so bad, is it? I mean, you stayed in.

- ...it's not worse. - she half-whispered.

- Just don't think of bloodbending my ass in there, I'm not as hot as you are.

- Aww, you think I'm hot?

- What? Uh-shit. Poor choice of words. I mean, you are, I just didn't mean...nevermind.

- Nah, I can't blame you, I'm hot as shit. - she scoffed, cold water meeting more of her skin and the material of her pijamas.

- Shut up. - he scoffed, which resulted in a splash of water being bended on his face. - That was unnecessary.

- It absolutely was. 

- Okay just find something to keep yourself busy for a few minutes. I'll open the windows, maybe it's gonna help. - Zuko smiled and headed out of the bathroom. In a few minutes of his absence and some chill water calming down the girl’s overheating situation, she felt exhaustion washing over her. She didn’t have to worry about the hotness of the room anymore and her body desperately needed rest. Her eyes grew heavy.

Zuko did manage to help her get out of the bathtub and got her some dry clothes. Then he carried her to the bed, this time not to throw her into another surprise but just to sleep. The room was colder, faint breeze hit their skins thanks to the opened windows from time to time. The sheets didn’t feel like lava anymore and it was good. Good enough to sleep.

- ’night. - she mumbled, getting comfortable.

- goodnight, love. - he mumbled back. She instinctively wanted to snuggle up to him, but he stopped her. - No cuddling for today. Otherwise I’ll have to carry you to the bathtub again.

- ’kay. - she said quietly. He gave her a small kiss on the forehead, before turning to his side. This was the first time in their lives that it was in fact too hot to cuddle.

[1-ker0sene-1]

Never Just Two

Ghoap / Reader

(Wheelchair User Reader)

Chap1, Chap2, Chap3

"A Sargeants Bad Luck"

Word Count: 2k

CW: Johnny can't leave well enough alone, misunderstandings to the max

You were starting to come out of your shell now. Gaining some real confidence. Defiance. Threading your personality into the tightly woven design of this team. You still avoided the couple, however it wasn't out of fear. You gave them the respect of coworkers, but because of their actions you made no effort to befriend them. Simon could handle and understand. But it was wearing on Johnny.

"How do we even apologize?"

He groans, laid back lazily in Simons bed. Who rolled his eyes at the dramatic scott.

"By apologizing."

The masked man grumbles in return. He knew a simple 'I'm sorry' wouldn't fix everything, but it would be a start. The real rough part was to do it, cause that meant they would have to directly explain their pathetic behavior of strategizing against a disabled coworker.

"She already hates us I swear it-"

Johnny sighs, sitting up with a frown. Watching you with Gaz and Price was driving him up the wall. He liked being close knit with his team, knowing them and fighting beside them. Maybe you weren't out on the field with a gun, but now you were officially one of them. And you didn't want a damn thing to do with him. You had every reason to, of course, he knows that. He wants to fix it. You have such a strange affect on Johnny, you make him so damn nervous.

He tried first with coffee. Leaving a cup ready for you in the common room, where you'd usually sit by your laptop doing your morning routine and chatting with Price. He can fix this, little things at a time. He was never exactly great at leaving things be.

But then he sees your face, scrunching with confusion staring at the mug in your spot. Johnny doesn't speak up yet, watching emotions flow through you. You take the mug, carrying it back to the counter. Mortified, he watches you pour it right down the sink. Turning to the coffee pot to pour yourself a new cup. As you prepare it, he realizes what happened. He wants to slam his head through a wall.

Fucking idiot.. He made it no where near how you like.

His next attempt, he was sure it would work this time. At least get him on your better side. Was to adjust some of the cupboards. Johnny noticed how sometimes you struggled to reach all the way up with your sitting position. Taking the time to remove the cheap box cupboards, and screw them in a bit lower on the wall. He was almost finished when Gaz interrupted him.

"Hey mate you wanna help with the recruit situation? Got a couple idiots fightin' in the mess hall."

John groans, nodding and heading out with the fellow sargeant to deal with it. The cupboards were mostly done, he just had a couple screws to tighten back up.

By the time he was walking back to continue, he hears a crash. And your voice cursing out. Gaz and Johnny look to eachother before rushing towards the common room. And where you were, holding the detached handle of the cheap cupboard, the rest of it fallen on the floor. It almost fell on you. Once again Johnny wanted to bash himself. He opens his mouth, but Gaz is already coming over to you.

"You alright?"

He asks, resting a hand on your shoulder. His free hand takes the cupboard door and tosses it on the countertop.

"I'm fine just-"

You glance at Johnny, blinking as you see the screwdriver poking out of his pocket. Your eyes shoot away from him. Lips pressing into a tight frustrated line.

"I'm good."

You mumble, reaching to grab something else from a more stable cupboard.

"So you're way of apologizin' is making her coffee that could give her diabetes and dropping a cupboard on her head?"

Simon asks, crossing his arms. Watching Johnny bump his forehead repeatedly against the bed post. The brit is leaned back in a chair, mug of tea in his hands as he watches his distressed scottsman.

"Tha fuck is wrong with me?"

Johnny mutters exasperated.

"You're pushing too hard. We'll apologize tomorrow. Leave it be Johnny."

Simon advises, his hand coming over to his partners shoulder. Giving him a stern squeeze. It was for the best. Give you some time to cool off from Johnny's attempts, hopefully you won't take his actions as more threats. They've done enough of that bullshit.

Johnny swallows.. leave it be. That's what he should do. That is the plan. Leave it be and tomorrow they'll get on track to make things better. He was never good at leaving things alone. He just drowns in the paranoia of your hatred. The way you look at him and Simon makes his stomach ache, embarrassed to admit that it matters to him what you think of them. They started off so harshly with you. Now he's left to watch you show the rest of the team utter warmth and acceptance, things they should have shown you.

Now they're fucked. Utterly fucked. He didn't leave it be. Far from that actually. Johnny slams the door shut behind him in the room. Looking pale with wide eyes. Simon raises a brow at him. Johnny swallows.

"I know ye said ta leave it-"

"What did you do?"

Simon growls, Johnny sucks in a breath. Slowly revealing what he was hiding behind his back. The footrests to your chair. Simons jaw snaps shut, snapping the cigarette in his mouth clean in half.

"What the fuck were you thinkin'!?"

Simon curses, wrenching the footrest from Johnny's hand. Looking down at it with furrowed brows. The blue eyed man starts his explanation.

"I thought I could fix it- she was talkin' all mornin' about it being too high. That it needs lowered cause it hurts her ankles- she was workin' out so I tried adjusting it and the damn thing just fell off-"

Rambling about how his intentions were to assist you. Make things better. But this was far from it.

"Johnny you don't fuck with a mobility aid."

Simon scolds instantly, eyes narrowed. He had a fucking plan. An apology to make. The damn bastard couldn't wait one night!? He runs a hand over his face with a groan.

"You couldn't put it back on?"

Johnny deflates.

".. The screw was stripped. Gotta find a new one that size-"

They're interrupted by harsh banging on the door. Johnny grimaces. Simon gives him a deadpanned glare. Should have let it be. Simon pushes the footrest back into his lovers hand, turning him with a push on the shoulder. Grumbling sarcastically.

"By all means love. Go explain yourself."

Johnny sighs and reaches to pull open the door. Opening his mouth to spew apologies but you don't even give him the chance.

"Where the hell do you get off!?"

You boom, face twisted in a snarl. You are fuming. Sitting in your chair, arms crossed, nails digging into your own skin. Eyes lit up in a furious glare. Your chest heaving up and down. Your feet hanging just above the ground is a sore reminder of Johnny's worst mistake of the day.

"Y'know- I was fine with letting you guys do your thing and not bothering you. But you have no fucking right to make my life hell when I haven't done a god damn thing to either of you!"

Johnny's throat is impossibly tight, strangled by his own actions.

"Lass I'm really-"

"Don't call me that. You call me by my name, or nothing at all."

You snap. He takes a breath and nods. Mumbling your name. Simon stands behind him tense and looking at you.

" 'm really fuckin' sorry. I never meant ta break it."

"Why would I believe that? You've been fucking with me all day!"

You say, brows furrowed. Johnny blinks, shaking his head as he tries to pitifully explain himself. A feared soldier on the battlefield, a menace of explosions and tech, now babbling out excuses to you.

"No- I swear- I was tryin' to find a way to apologize ta ye."

"Apologize? .. Then why wouldn't you just fucking say that?"

You huff.

Simon cocks his head to the side, looking at Johnny with a glare.

"Yeah Johnny, why didn't you just say that?"

He repeats, trying to beat his point into his stubborn partners head. They could have apologized and not been in this mess. Johnny swallows and gives Simon a glare from the corner of his eyes.

"Yer nae helpin'."

Simon rolls his eyes, looking at you again. For once, a little softer. You've been fucked over all day.

The blonde mindlessly adjusted his balaclava a bit, before clearing his throat. Gesturing you inside the room. You give him an untrusting look, before rolling your chair into the room, letting him shut the door behind you. You grumble something under your breath, snatching your footrests back from Soaps hands. Resting it on your lap for now.

Simon grasps Johnny by the nape of the neck, pressing down on him with an authoritative grip to sit down on the edge of the bed. They were going to talk. They were going to start making this right. By doing it the right fucking way so help him god.

"You got every right to be angry. You deserve a proper apology yeah? No excuses. Just the truth."

"Bit of an understatement.."

You mumble, making Johnny wince. Simon nods in understanding. You suck in a tight breath and continue.

".. I already told you I wasn't telling anyone about you guys- so what the fuck do you have against me? .. That I'm new? That I'm not Laswell? ....Is it because of the chai-"

"No!"

Johnny says quickly, Simon almost says it at the same time.

"It's nae like that.. we were right pricks. We know. I really was tryin' ta make it up to ye today. Jus' dinnae know how.. and kept fuckin' it up.."

Soap rubs the back of his neck, blue eyes full of remorse and swimming in guilt. Simon sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"We made a .. Few mistakes. We got off wrong from the start. The apology is long overdue. But we are sorry. We can pay for the repair."

You glance between the two of them with eyes of scrutiny, trying to dig for any hint of insencerity. When you find none you huff in annoyance, it would honestly be easier to hate them.

"Doesn't need a repair. Just a new screw. ... Just thought you did it on purpose."

You mutter. Johnny's shoulders sink.

"I promise ye I dinnae..I wouldn't."

Simon huffs, arm resting on Johnny's shoulder. He looks down at you.

"We're a team.. you're good for this team. We need to start treating you better. As one of us. .. Maybe we can start over right."

"No."

They blink at your rejection. But it's clear you're serious. You raise your brows at them.

"You guys don't just get to start over when you're assholes... Fix your actions instead."

You say, crossing your arms. Simon swallows thickly, you were right. You could go and tell Price of their treatment. Not only get them reprimanded, but you could come clean about all of them and get them in some real trouble.

"No more running around behind my back. Tell me when you want to help out.."

Johnny lifts his head at your words, opening his mouth. But you hold up a hand and give him a light glare.

"And no touching the chair anymore. Shouldn't have to say that at all."

You say, Johnny nods instantly.

"I deserve to be here. I know you're a Lieutenant, and I know you're a Sargeant. But I have a job to do too. Frankly it's to make sure you guys get back alive..... I'm not telling Price what happened."

Both men slack with relief. But you're not done yet.

"But if you pull that shit again. I'll transfer out. I know my worth. I'm not going to stay where I'm not wanted."

"We know-"

Simon starts.

"Then act like it."

You finish. Effectively silencing them. Simon gives a short nod to your order. In a way it was hard to describe the affect you had on them. Your strangely strong and suffocating presence. You weren't to be stepped on. You weren't to be taken lightly. Not anymore.

{Tag list: @waiting-so-long @redz0mbie @lolly145 @infpt-zylith @missmidnight-writes }

[piratefishmama]

I Wish | Part 3

He barely recognised his friends. He was just glad they were themselves though. That somewhere along the way to a stardom he didn’t remember going through, his band hadn’t lost anyone. That someone hadn’t been replaced.

That happened a lot, didn’t it? Bands losing members due to circumstance, arguments over direction, infighting... but they were there. Older, Gareth had a little grey in his hair, Jeff had shaved his down completely, he didn’t have braces anymore, taller too, neither as weathered as Eddie but… definitely older, and Dougie...

Fuck, he'd slimmed down.

Eddie didn’t know if that was an improvement or not, he instantly found himself missing what had once been, he was still big, still broad, but... where disarming chub that Eddie had on more than one occasion fallen asleep on had been, soft muscle resided in its place and Eddie found himself wondering just how the biggest of four of them had done it. Whether it'd been through healthy choices or godawful ones like himself.

It was muscle though, it looked like healthy muscle, so... probably healthier than him. Good for him.

“Oh look who's joined us in the land of the living!” Gareth chirped, his mouth half full of pancake, syrup dripping down his lips.

Jeff, to his left “Saw Louie stormin out kicking up a storm, that shit for good this time?” Asked with a tone laced in caution, as if the subject was touchy. God what had Eddie done in the past that made his friends think they couldn’t rib him about relationships?

That was like... their whole thing back in high school, Eddie, and his disastrous non-existent dating life. He’d trusted them and them alone with who he was, with what he liked, and while there were the obvious ‘do you find me hot?’ questions at first, the playful ribbing, the teasing, the jokes only friends could share… he had them. They weren’t afraid of him. Afraid to hurt him because they knew they never could.

How had he lost that?

Eddie looked to Steve in a bid for help, Steve wasted no time in coming to his aid “One can only hope” with obvious exhaustion in his retort, his hands on his hips, a deadpan expression that Eddie couldn’t stop himself from smiling at.

Gareth snorted a little laugh and followed with “Amen to that, dude.”

“He’ll be back though, he always is.” Dougie piped up around his own bite full of some oat concoction, it looked gross. “Once he sees his job offers dry u—what?” The other two were giving it the kill signal, twin expressions of panic, as if he’d said too much… god who was he? “You fuckers know I’m right, Eddie knows I’m right, he’s a clout chasing pretty boy riding Eddie’s coattails to fame, just cause you’re too chicken shit to say anything to him doesn’t mean I am.”

Eddie looked to Steve again as Dougie spoke, only to receive a silently raised brow in return, he was on his own. “Well—” Eddie began, the other three froze, even Dougie’s attention was on him now, all three clearly expecting something “not anymore! Dunno what I saw in him, but I’m done, Steve, if you would… uhm… make sure he can’t contact me again?”

“Want me to block his number?”

“What?” Eddie whispered behind his hand, brows furrowed in confusion, block? A number? What?

“I’ll sort it.” Steve would sort it, and of that Eddie had zero doubts. He wouldn’t doubt the genie about anything ever again. Louie and his overly manicured entire self would never darken his doorstep again, of that he was certain.

“Holy shit, who are you and where did Eddie go?” The panic gone, Gareth seemed genuinely surprised by his declaration. He'd missed too much, too many things he didn’t know, too many things he’d done that he couldn’t apologise for because he didn’t know what he'd be apologising for. it'd be cheap, it'd be pointless.

Eddie hated everything. He could have probably lived with it, with his lost time, had this not been his first experience of the day with people he recognised. He couldn’t. Not like this. Not with his friends looking at him like he were a bomb ready to go off.

He could put on a brave face though, even if the muscles in his face felt foreign, even if he felt tired... he could act the part. “Turnin over a new leaf I guess... self reflection, new path, bachelor life never hurt me too bad, right?” His friends shared looks, a silent communication happening between them that made Eddie feel isolated, othered, outside, and alone.

He wanted out. To run.

And as if he knew, Steve’s hand found his shoulder and squeezed grounding him in place. He was there, the Genie was there, he'd fix it if Eddie wished him to. He wasn’t stuck, Steve just wanted him to live the day. Experience it. Be brave, it wasn’t permanent.

Jeff broke the silence though, he stood up, crossed the distance between them, that gigantic chasm that seemed so impossible to cross seconds before, and clapped his hands to both of Eddie's biceps, his straight toothed smile blinding “nice to have you back then, Eds, now eat your fuckin breakfast an let’s get this stupid talk show shit over with, yeah?” Okay... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Fuck the ‘old' Eddie, the Eddie who Eddie himself had never met and never wanted to meet, he had his friends, he'd be fine. Maybe he could even stay.

“Sounds good, what's for breakfast?”

“For you? Nothin but the good stuff, man, ordered you some wholemeal toast with avocado an egg whites” so many words, so little recognition in his eyes.

What the fuck was an avocado? Was that a real thing?

“...Can I not have pancakes like Gareth?” Gareth with his syrupy monstrosity.  

Dougie scoffed around his oatmeal, swallowing before he responded because at some point during the last thirty years he’d developed manners. “With your cholesterol? Fuck off, dude, we don’t want you having a heart attack on stage.” Steve only offered him a sympathetic smile in consolation. The beautiful bastard. “It's avocado toast or oatmeal, your choice old man.”

Strike being able to stay. He wanted to go home.

Eddie didn’t like Avocados.

He decided this the moment a semi-hard glob of green mush touched his tongue, lightly seasoned, mixed with something tangy, he hated it, hated the smell, hated the unexpected texture, hated the taste but he ate it. He pushed through like a little champ when every instinct he had told him to rebel against it, to demand French fries or something stupid that definitely didn’t come as a breakfast food.

Maybe he could swing fast food later, see what the future held for the fast food joints.

Later seemed too busy though, the moment they were done with breakfast, the band were whisked away into some kind of car, something way fancier than Eddie had ever seen, to get to the venue and prepare. Hair, makeup, the usual routine that Eddie wished he had an ounce of experience with because back at the Hideout it was just… them climbing up on the rickety old stage Bev’s late husband put together on the fly and letting loose.

There was no pre-gig warming up, no hoard of professionals tugging them into various chairs and rooms to make sure their hair was the correct brand of artful frizz, or mess of floof, or women with brushes coated in powders to minimize the shine from the studio lights that’d make their skin too shiny for the cameras to work with.

Wardrobe was fool proof as they were presented with options that ranged from smart casual to red carpet. Everything suitable for a talk show and nothing fit for a ‘metal’ band, which was strange considering they were advised to go for something they could move in as they were going to be performing during their run through, maybe more than once to make sure all angles were covered.

It was a lot, it was a hell of a lot, Eddie kept finding Steve in his peripherals though. Always there, silent, and observant off to the side, close enough to step in should anyone cross any boundaries but staying out of the way of the professionals so they could work unhindered.

It was grounding in a way, him there, even if he looked so very human despite what he knew Steve to really look like, having him there, knowing the man could get him out of the chaos at any time was grounding.

All those people touching him, all the noise around him, sounds, smells, lights, the pushing, and pulling, and the tugging on his hair, he wanted to scream, he wanted to get away from it all, he wanted—

“Alright, five minute break.” Steve stepped in, his voice firm, without room for argument. “Rockstar needs a breather.” Eddie could have kissed him, genuinely. The relief as all those professionals took a few steps back was instantaneous, that feeling only growing when Steve managed to corral them out of the room entirely, leaving just them in there.

The other band members were in their own rooms, Eddie clearly some ‘big shot’ that he didn’t quite get. Sure he was the front man but… they always said they’d be equals if they made it big. They’d always scoffed at the idea of multiple green rooms, of putting single members on pedestals, that was how shit went sideways, that was how infighting and breaking apart happened. They’d stay grounded, stay real.

They didn’t want that bullshit and yet there he was. All on his own, his friends elsewhere being prepped without him. He hated it. How had it happened? “I should be used to this, shouldn’t I?”

“What makes you think that?” Eddie damn near jumped out of his skin when Steve was just. Right there. Stood beside him in the reflection of the mirror. No longer looking all that human, he looked like himself, golden and beautiful, wearing the clothes he first saw him in.

When he turned around, the human looked back at him, smiling as if he knew what Eddie was looking for. Reflections showed the truth then. Interesting.

“I’m—fuck that's a cool trick, man... but i'm a fuckin rockstar! I should be, I dunno… used to it.” At the very least his old man brain should have caught up by now, right? He should have gotten used to it all, muscle memory of thirty years having passed should have at least kicked in a little, right?

He still felt like that kid from the trailer park on the inside, still felt completely overwhelmed.

He’d just been dropped into a life with no memory of living it.

“Who said you ever got used to it?” Steve hadn’t said that. In fact Steve had painted a pretty sad story of addiction and self-destruction. “Eddie… some people aren’t meant for this kind of life, yes, you’re very talented, you’re absolutely good enough to get this far, and once you’re on stage you are incredible—” for a moment, just a moment, Eddie felt warmth, a teeny sprinkle of warm pleasure trickle through his weary soul at the easily spoken praise. “The weariness fades away and you’re… yourself, everything that you are shines through and it’s breathtaking.” Eddie really did try not to blush, but he felt the heat in his cheeks anyway, as it turned out, older men could definitely be flustered by a cute guy thoughtlessly praising them “but the rest of it… everything that goes along with it… not that I’m an expert or anything, but I don’t believe it’s who you are.”

“I can’t just adapt?” All Steve offered was that similar look of sympathy he’d had in the bathroom back at the hotel. No… no Eddie knew the answer before he’d even asked it. He’d never been able to adapt. “Why?”

“If it helps at all, there’s millions of people out there who feel seen whenever you talk about your struggles with what happens behind the glamour, so many people who love you and support you for the very things that make you struggle so much, for the fact that you keep going, you made it despite them. I’m not going into the why’s and the how’s, but adapting really isn’t something you’re very good at, Eddie, there’s no changing that. You get overwhelmed, that’s just you.”

“Can I wish to change it?” Did he even want to? Not really, something told him it’d backfire somehow, not by Steve’s design, not on purpose, but… it just would.

“You can… I can work my magic, but you wouldn’t be you. You wouldn’t be the person your friends love, the louder than life DnD loving nerd, you wouldn’t be that anymore, and I like that person, he’s very sweet, so I really don’t want to.” There it was. At least Steve wasn’t just letting him make that mistake. “There’s a life out there that is perfect for you, and trust me you will find it, this just isn’t it. Do you want to go home?” Steve wasn’t going to force him to stay, he wanted Eddie to experience it for this very reason, to see the truth behind one of his biggest dreams, see the chaos behind the curtain of a life that maybe he just wasn’t suited to.

He could go home if he wanted to, but… “No. Not yet. I wanna experience it, just once, y’know? Even if it’s gonna suck, I think you were right, I think I need to.” If only to really drive it home that maybe fame and fortune wasn’t everything.

That maybe he didn’t have to be famous, maybe he didn’t have to be some metal legend, he could just… be. And that would be okay.

“Got it.”

“Will I at least know the song we’re meant to be performing here?” Given how little he knew about his present self, the very real possibility of his music having evolved, of new songs being written, it was an issue he really should have thought about by now, but Steve snapped his fingers, an otherwordly light flashing in his hazel eyes for the briefest of moments, and then he smiled.

“You will now.” And that made him feel a little better. Just a little. Until the chaos continued and the professionals filed back in to finish their jobs, the five minutes up.

Part 5

[l0v3tast3]

More young!reader and 141 maybeeee? I feel like I just need more headcanons and drabbles

Also maybe like, 141 reacting to reader randomly dropping information like "well, my mum's an alcoholic and she used to beat me"

And this is me speaking from experience cause I do that and like 🥲

✎ i think i got this request like almost a month ago now i am. so sorry lmao but i'm actually getting to it and that's what counts right? right. i pumped this out in like 2 hours which if you knew how i write you would be very impressed 😎

✎ tags: young!reader, military!reader, not proofread im too cool for that, just general fluff like one mention of simon being angsty about u dying ig?

♡ so soap and the reader are definitely really good friends. i don't really think he's like super "mushy"? i guess? like some people make him out to be (not that there's anything wrong with that i love that trope) because like, look at him. i love him but some of the stuff he says in the games is like super fucking #militaryman if that makes sense lmao

♡ you're friends in a sibling kind of way. you make fun of each other all of the time and play pranks with (and on) each other. he goes rough on you when you're sparring but always makes sure you're okay afterwards. a lot of the time he talks to you like you're a little kid in an annoying tone just to piss you off.

♡ simon definitely didn't really want to like you at first, partly because he didn't want to get close to you in case you died or got seriously injured or captured or whatever else could possibly happen. but you literally weaseled your way in as his friend.

♡ after a few weeks of being with the team, you picked up on their likes and dislikes. in particular, you learned which foods simon liked at the cafeteria, you learned what kind of books he read, etc. etc. and so ensued you doing nice things for him.

♡ you would grab him the protein bar he liked from the vending machine when you went to grab yourself or someone else something. if you went somewhere with cheap books, you would grab him one that was similar to what you saw him reading last. you always made it a point to get him cheap things so you could refuse if he tried to pay you back.

♡ most of the time, though, he would say he didn't want it when you handed it to him. you would just shrug and tell him to give it to someone else (you see him with whatever you got him not long after). other times, you'll just sit down next to him and talk to him out of nowhere. towards the beginning, it was more of you talking at him, but that was okay with you. it took longer than the others, but you wormed your way into his cold heart.

♡ price is your new father. he gives you advice on literally everything, whether or not you ask for it (you almost never do). he does the dad thing of the hands on the hips and legs kinda spread while he explains the topic in depth. he has a very vast wealth of knowledge, you come to learn.

♡ i feel like one time you would comment on price's outfit, saying it looked good and matched well one day and he would kind of take it to heart. from then on he'll occasionally ask you how his outfit is that day. he'll play it off as if he's joking, but deep down he's actually curious. you always make fun of him for the hat that's seemingly glued to his head, though.

♡ gaz fully leans into becoming your older brother. he doesn't deny it, he just laughs when someone says anything. also i feel like he'll literally do anything you want to do. he'll go shopping with you, he'll go to bookstores or antique stores or crystal places, literally anywhere. it's gotten to the point where you just tell him to go with you and he just grabs his coat.

♡ he also will play any video game with you and he always beats you at it. it literally does not matter if he's never even heard of this random game you just pulled out of some alternate dimension, he'll be better than you at it. he's also absolutely clueless about his natural talent; if you ask him what the hell he's doing right, he's just like "huh? 🤨🤨"

♡ yeah in regards to randomly dropping trauma like it's nothing, it's definitely a smack in the face to all of them. they talk about the time they almost died in a firefight or when they got shot several times over, but they don't talk about the "deep" stuff.

♡ so it's like, you say some shit like "yeah my [super close person] died when i was really young that was #rough lol" and they all just slowly turn their heads to you like "what the actual fuck did you just say" and you're just like "what's going on why did we stop talking 🧐"

♡ they either move on to a new conversation after several long moments of silence or you just don't notice and continue talking like you didn't just give them mental whiplash.

♡ also so like i'm the type of person that loves clutter and just wants to decorate the hell out of my apartment n shit right? so like if you're also that kind of person and you just amass all this stuff in your room and put in shelves and lamps and posters and pictures covering every wall (even though it's probably against some military code or rules or whatever) and they got a peek they're just like "what the fuck"

♡ every time price sees it he tells you to clean it up but it's half-hearted at best. you tell him he's just jealous of all of your cool stuff, and he secretly is (if you're a mini-fridge kind of person he would definitely want to steal it from you).

♡ if you don't really decorate your room that much or just don't have a lot of stuff, they all get you little things to clutter up your space with. kyle and you come up with a system of buying each other a gift whenever you go shopping together, and he's good at remembering what you like.

♡ i think simon likes carving wood in his spare time, and you'll see him doing this and say that's really cool and good, and he's always just like "ya want it?" and tosses it at you. you don't bother asking if he's sure he wants to give it to you because he already pulled out another block of wood to carve into.

♡ they all also will fight literally anyone for you once you all get closer. you're probably one of, if not the youngest person working in the entire compound and they know how people talk, and if they hear anyone saying anything bad about you for any reason they shut that shit down immediately. you are good, in every aspect, and they all will let everyone know that.