#it's meant to sound like a little thought experiment. i do not mean to attack anyone

[startrekmemequeen]

Thinking about Noonien Soong again...

People give him a lot of shit for "being a bad father" but i don't think they realize how hard it actually is to have an android kid.

It's fucking hard to be a parent. That's just a fact of life. Ask anyone who has kids. But imagine if your child also has enough physical strength to stop a moving car with one hand and can think about 10 000 things faster than you blink. But they still have trouble regulating their emotions. They still new to life, everything is new to them. You have to explain things to them, you have to teach them everything. But their brain is something so complicated and difficult, how can you even know that conventional methods will work on them? Do you have to go back and make adjusments to their programming or is it a matter of finding the right words to explain a very complicated subject in a way they would understand? Is their brain capable of comprehending this particular thing? It's your job to find out!

You live in a colony so you're a part of a community and so is your child. If a one year old human child has a tantrum and hits someone, that's totally normal. But what if an android does that? Everyone in your community would be terrified cause they'd think you built that "evil robot" from horror movies and they would want to burn your android (and probably you) on a stake. In fact, even if your child just says something weird or misinterprets a social que, people might become wary of them. So you have to make sure that no accidents happen. It's tricky to keep an eye on a little human all the time, but your child is faster and stronger than any human adult.

There's no parenting book about all of that, cause you made an entirely new type of creature. Problems so unique that no one ever even thought of them become a part of your daily life. And you have to deal with it, you have to figure it out because you CHOSE this fate. You couldn't possibly imagine how this will turn out, because no one has ever done that before. But you still made that choice. You chose to bring a new kind of life to this world. Of course, you could've just built the android, taken all the credit and called it a day. You could've secured a future and a good reputation for yourself. You could've made integrating them into human society and helping them develop someone else's problem. But you didn't. You chose to be there every step of the way. You could've stayed just a scientist. You chose to become a parent. Now you have a child and you're responsible for them. If anything bad happens, it will be your fault. Good luck.

[pedropascallme]

Set My Mind Free

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader

Summary: “'Just wanted to…' You rolled your eyes, trying to explain yourself, 'After our conversation last week—you and me—I thought it was only fair. I mean, he waited by me, right? So what kind of Sergeant would I be if I didn’t look out for him? Just repaying his...kindness.'”

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) oral (f receiving), p in v sex, intercrural sex, dirty talk, praise, very mild degradation, canon typical violence, detailed descriptions of wounds, allusions to PTSD, reader experiences a very detailed panic attack, discussion of panic attacks/anxiety, discussion of drug use and addiction (not reader), implied age gap (ages not mentioned), enemies to frenemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, I know little to nothing about how the military works, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: Part 1 here!!

By 4:00 AM, you’d stopped crying and told yourself that you would go to sleep.

But by 5:00 AM you were still awake, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the faint rhythm of your heart.

There was nothing you could do.

There was one thing you could do—but it required a sense of decency, and a level of respect that you worried wouldn’t translate properly from your brain to your mouth.

You didn’t know what you would say, if there was anything to say at all, and yet you still felt the urge to find Simon.

But he was probably asleep, just like everybody else on base, and likely in no mood to see you if he was up.

And you were worried how you’d act, seeing him at his lowest.

After several minutes of going back and forth between your limited options, you slipped out of bed, donning a sweatshirt and making sure you remembered shoes this time around. You grabbed the shirt—maybe he’d take it back now that he knew what it was like.

You puttered inside your room for a moment longer, hesitating, before you found the nerve to open your door and walk down the hall to the infirmary.

It was dark out, but the floods outside forced streaks of light into the barracks. You could hear nothing but your own footsteps, and the fact that nobody else was awake to see you like this; hair stuck to your temples from the tears you’d shed, carrying a blood-soaked shirt to a man who probably didn’t want to see anybody—least of all you—was reassuring.

You braced yourself for the grating sound of the infirmary doors against the floor, pushing them open slowly to keep the unnecessary racket at bay.

He was asleep in the same cot you had been in, and he managed to make it look even more cramped than it had felt when you’d been in it: lying on his back, he’d propped his head up with the single pillow he’d been offered, clearly trying to keep his feet from dangling off the end of the mattress.

It didn’t work, and he still had to bend at the knee to fit in the cot properly.

He’d been stripped from the waist up, and the left side of his abdomen was covered in gauze and bandages that likely concealed stitches over an ugly wound. But he still looked beautiful, and you kicked yourself for even daring to allow the thought to run through your head.

He still had his mask on. Of course he did.

You situated yourself in the same seat Gaz had been sitting in when you’d woken up, setting the shirt to the side and just looking at him.

That’s all you could do. Look.

You wouldn’t wake him up. You had nothing to say. And even if you did wake him, it was unlikely he’d be able to say anything of substance with all the morphine they probably had him on

So you sat quietly, staring at him; his mask, his bandages. Your wounds were in the same place, which meant nothing, but it still filled you with a profound sense of awe, a subtle yanking in your abdomen.

“Figured you’d come by.” Ghost’s voice broke through the silence of the infirmary, and you flinched.

“Fucking—Christ, Simon,” you sighed, gripping your thighs as you collected yourself, “How long have you been awake?”

He stared up at you, ignoring your question. “Pick a new name yet?” When you looked at him quizzically, he elaborated, “Not Berserker anymore?”

“Oh—no,” you had forgotten about wanting to change your callsign—too many things had been plaguing your mind, pushing your concern about a name to the back. “Still Berserker. For now.”

The conversation fizzled out, but you didn’t want it to end. You blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“I never thanked you.”

“For?” He seemed oddly relaxed for a man who’d just been shot.

“For?” You mocked him, almost playfully; what else would you possibly have to thank him for? “Saving me from, y’know…bleeding out.”

“My job.” Simon shifted, trying to stretch in the tight confines of the cot.

“No, but…it isn’t, is it?” You found yourself questioning his words aloud, “Your job is…lead, call the shots…”

There may have been nuances in his title that made it his responsibility to show compassion, but there was definitely nothing that said he had to kneel beside you while you bled; use his clothing in place of a bandage; care for you after you had done something so stupid and avoidable.

You bit your tongue, remembering how you’d screamed at him so intensely about how he didn’t do anything that wasn’t in the job description.

“Whatever, I’m…” you sighed, furrowing your brows and giving yourself another moment to back out of saying the next words. “I’m glad it’s you I call Lieutenant. Anybody else probably would’ve seen me as a lost cause—back there, and in…in a lot of the situations we end up in.” You couldn’t stop yourself from praising him, not after the events of the night and your self-reflection. “You’re a good Lieutenant.”

He didn’t respond. You were too uncomfortable to deal with any more silence, so you continued.

“You’re a good person, Simon.”

“Why me?” You’d hardly finished saying his name when he bombarded you with the question.

“What?” You didn’t understand what he was asking.

“Gaz is your mate, yeah?” In the low light of the room, you could see his eyes scanning your face, “‘Nd Soap. Both of 'em would’a helped.” He tilted his head back, and you realized what he was talking about.

You tried to push down the way your heart screamed for him.

“I trust you.” You answered with your brain instead.

“You trust them.” It was amazing to you that a man in his condition still had the energy to argue about such superfluous things.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “But it’s…different. I think.” You didn’t care to explain.

Slowly, he nodded, as if trying to deconstruct the meaning of your words.

“And, you know…” You finally found your confidence, “Figured if I was gonna die, I could at least find out what it was like to have your hands on me first.”

You didn’t know why that was the direction you went in, taking a lighthearted approach and praying that it would come off as a joke.

“Could’a jus’ asked,” Simon sighed, and to your relief, he sounded amused. “Always wanted you to give me the go 'head.”

You felt your heart stutter, but you rationalized that all the drugs he was on were probably making him loopy.

“Would’a been nicer wi'out all the blood—better story for the grandkids.” He closed his eyes.

You just hummed, smiling. He must have been drugged to the nines.

He went silent again, and you stayed seated beside him, listening to the way his breathing leveled out as he drifted off to sleep.

If what Gaz said was true, and if Simon really had kept vigil over you while you were out cold, then it was the least you could do now for him. It was funny, in a melodramatic sort of way, thinking about how the two of you had switched places.

When you were certain he was asleep, you dropped your voice to a whisper.

“I brought you your shirt back,” you picked it up from the spot you’d left it when you had first come in, crumpled on the chair next to you. “I know you don’t want it…but…I don’t think I do, either.” You smiled, adding, “Maybe a clean one.”

You paused, half expecting him to respond. When he didn’t, sound asleep, you continued.

“I’ve seen all the shirts you own. Not a lot on rotation.”

You stewed in your thoughts, realizing that having him trapped as an unconscious audience gave you the perfect opportunity to tell him the truth—at least to a degree.

“I just don’t want to have this reminder of my own fuck up. And of what you had to do to…”

To keep me from dying, you didn’t say—couldn’t say, despite the fact that he wouldn’t hear you.

“But if I give it to you now, as a—if we treat it like a gag, like it’s something funnier than it is…” You pulled at the fabric, “At least…let me care, Simon. Even if it’s just this once. Pretend you’re ok with being cared for.”

Let me show you how deeply I care.

You folded the shirt in your lap, putting it on the small table next to the bed and rising from your seat.

You let your gaze rake over him, once again taking note of how oversized he was in the cot. In a way, though, as he lay, contorted and bandaged, he looked so, so small. Like a child that couldn’t bear to separate from their first bed; desperate for comfort that he couldn’t find and wouldn’t admit to craving.

How the mighty fall.

But he’d be out of here in a day. He wouldn’t let himself waste away in the infirmary—he wouldn’t be like you.

You couldn’t help the way you reached out to graze your fingers over the hem of his balaclava. For how often you grumbled about wanting to tear it off his face, you had no intention of doing so now.

You knew better. You just wanted to feel that part of him.

It was soft. You smiled.

Of course it was.

You brushed your thumb over the fabric that covered his cheek, smiling softly. Maybe the emotions you’d experienced over the course of the night were still running high, but you felt like you might tear up.

And you felt like maybe you’d be ok showing him this kind of affection even if he was awake.

You did your best to remain unwavering in the face of yearning.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, LT,” you pulled your hand back from his face, “Won’t do it again.” 

~~~

The sun was coming up when you left the infirmary, and the hall glowed with an eerie pre-dawn atmosphere that comforted you in the strangest of ways.

You had time; he would see another sunrise.

You found yourself knocking on Gaz’s door, eager to apologize for snapping at him hours prior during your rampage.

He opened the door, already dressed, and the smile on his face helped you remember that no matter what you did, he understood.

Kyle always understood.

“Up early.” He noted, taking in your disheveled appearance.

“So are you,” you pointed out, and he smirked. “I wanted to say sorry.”

“For what?” He swung the door open wider, walking back into his room and silently beckoning you inside.

“Screaming at you last night—this morning,” you kind of laughed, feeling awkward for the storm of feelings you’d lashed him with. “I don’t want you to…I’m not mad at you. Or anything. And I don’t want you to be mad at me. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

You walked into his room, closing the door behind you, and he laughed.

“I’m not mad,” he sat at his desk, “Why would I be mad?”

“Because I cursed you out after you saw our Lieutenant get bodied,” you sighed, trying to make the situation seem lighter with your phrasing. “Shitty of me to do.”

“You were upset.” Gaz looked at you in a way that made you feel more at ease; he could see through you, but you didn’t really mind it right now.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I was.”

“You still upset?”

“N—no…” You measured your feelings; you still felt a strange buzzing throughout your body, but you chalked it up to lack of sleep and the rush of adrenaline you'd been dealt. “I’m alright.”

You hesitated, looking around Gaz’s room to avoid having to meet his eyes.

“I went to see him.”

“Uh-huh.” Gaz raised an eyebrow at you.

“Just wanted to…” You rolled your eyes, trying to explain yourself, “After our conversation last week—you and me—I thought it was only fair. I mean, he waited by me, right? So what kind of Sergeant would I be if I didn’t look out for him? Just repaying his...kindness.”

Gaz didn’t say anything, but his lips morphed into a poorly concealed smirk.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head, “Just happy to see you two getting along.”

“Yeah, well—now that we’ve both been brought back from the brink in the span of less than a month, it’s a little easier to empathize with him.”

“Is'at it?” Gaz looked up at you knowingly, and you rolled your eyes again.

“It is.” You lied.

“Right,” he nodded, trying not to come off too pleased. “Good.”

“I’m happy that you’re not mad.” You muttered.

“And I’m happy that you’re feeling better,” he replied, voice tender. “You sleep at all?”

You shrugged, shaking your head.

“Try.” Was all he said.

“I know,” you nodded, heaving a sigh, “I will.”

He stood, patting you on the back and leading you out of his room.

“I’m serious, by the way,” he shook your shoulder playfully, “Happy that you and him have found common ground.”

“Yeah,” you smiled softly, turning to face him when you’d stepped over the threshold, “Me too.”

~~~

A full day had passed before there was a knock on your door. When you opened it, you weren’t as surprised as you thought you’d be to see Ghost standing opposite you.

“You’re up.” You stated, rather dumbly. He looked as though he had never been in the infirmary at all, clad in all black, gloves and balaclava on.

“Nothin' to do in ‘ere.” He grumbled, and you smiled.

“I think that’s the point, Simon.”

His eyes darted to the side before his gaze settled back on you, as if he was making only a halfhearted attempt at rolling them.

“Thought I told you to keep this.” Ghost held his hand out, and you recognized the shirt.

You sighed. “I kinda just figured—I dunno. Thought it would be…funny? You were so drugged up. You looked…” You tried to think of an excuse, coming up dry. You shrugged, “Thought you might finally want it back.”

“Wasn’t drugged.” His eyes narrowed a tad, having ignored everything you said to him after you mentioned him being drugged.

“What?” You furrowed your brow.

“Wasn’t drugged,” he huffed, “Don’t like 'at shit.”

“It’s morphine.” You smiled, amused by his discontent at the notion of taking painkillers.

Your delight at his distrust of anesthetics almost drowned out the loud thought at the front of your mind as you remembered the words he said to you as he lay in the medical cot.

Always wanted you to give me the go ahead.

You shook it off; you had been joking, and he had been joking back.

“They don’t give it to me. Don’t let ‘em.” His voice became a bit smaller, and you tried to reason with him.

“But it makes you feel better—great, even.” You offered an amused sigh, tilting your head.

“Brother was a druggy.” He stared daggers at you, and you were taken aback.

“Oh—I—”

“Don’t,” he shook his head before you could come up with an appropriate response. “'Eard it all before. Dead, either way.”

You nodded, resigned. Your gaze fell to the floor.

You knew a lot about Simon, but there were certain things he kept closer to his chest. He dropped lore at random moments—usually in an effort to shut people down, but this felt sincere. Vulnerable, even.

“Do you wanna come in?”

You could see his brow furrow, the familiar crease between his eyes appearing.

“Into your room?” He looked at you curiously before just barely nodding, “Sure.”

You stepped to the side, raising an arm to invite him in.

He walked slowly, taking in the look of the space; it was plain, barely decorated—like most of the rooms on base—but there were still pieces of you that lingered.

A blue hairbrush on your nightstand, pens with gnawed-on caps scattered about, half-finished reports on your desk.

He pulled the chair from your desk and sat. You couldn’t tear your eyes from him, as hard as you tried.

He was clearly still uncomfortable, tilting slightly to one side, but you couldn’t help but feel as though he looked right in your room.

You settled on the edge of your bed, pulling your legs up to your chest.

“You doin’ a'right?” He cleared his throat, worried that he’d made the situation uncomfortable by mentioning his brother.

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking back up at him. “Better.”

“Look, uh…tired.” He was slow to say it.

“Thanks, Simon,” you laughed sardonically, but tried to show him you were only kidding. “Always know what to say.”

“Meant—'ave you not been sleeping?” He tried to save face.

“Not well.” You chewed the inside of your cheek.

He nodded, eyes flickering over your form before trailing back to your face.

“Something keepin' you up?”

“Wish it was that simple,” you swallowed, tightening your grip around your legs where they pressed against your chest. “I’m, um…the thought of sleeping is pretty…daunting? Lately.”

“You scared?”

“Putting it lightly.”

There was a long pause, during which he seemed to study you. You didn’t squirm under his gaze like you normally would—something about this was more comfortable.

“'Ad a panic attack my first night in the barracks.” Simon spoke suddenly, but maintained a casual tone.

“What?”

He nodded, rolling his shoulders back slightly.

“Thought I’d made a mistake. Thought I’d…” And here it was, more bits of his lore—but again being shared in a manner that made you feel like it was more than just Ghost offering insight into his brutality.

This was Simon offering insight into his ability to feel.

“Early two-thousands, lots of, uh…propaganda, 'at I fell for, y’know, jus’ like everybody else,” he spread his legs, resting his elbows on his thighs as he recounted his experience.

You searched his eyes, though he didn't bother to look at you. He'd been a soldier for nearly as long as you’d been alive; you wondered what it was like.

“Didn’t know if I’d see the next morning. Didn’t know if I’d made the wrong choice, or what.” He took a deep breath.

For a moment, even in the mask and in his brooding, you saw Simon clearer than ever, without so much as a hint of Ghost.

“It was like 'at for a long time.”

“I’m no rookie, Lieutenant,” you scoffed, but it lacked any real bite. “I know how it is.”

He looked at you, almost pleadingly, for a moment, before his gaze settled.

“Point is…” he hesitated, “Don’t know if I 'ave a point, really.” He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling before meeting your gaze once more. “Thought I was…valiant for pushin’ it down.” He looked at you pointedly, “I wasn’t.”

You nodded solemnly. He was right.

He wasn’t telling you directly that he thought you were burning yourself out; that he noticed you struggling; that he saw the way you were trying to ignore the mental toll, but he was right. And you both knew it.

“Sure you’ve 'eard it before from people you’d…” he shook his head, his sentence trailing off before he finished the thought. “But, if you need anything…”

“Yeah,” you swallowed, suddenly wishing you could reach out and pull him closer; allow yourself the comfort of falling into him and finding safety curled against his form. But you didn’t act on the urge, responding instead with a curt nod and a weak smile. “Thanks.”

He nodded, eyes still focused on your face. He shifted in the seat he’d taken, standing up slowly—too slowly.

“Take an Advil, Simon.” You tried not to make your voice sound too pleading.

He waved you off. “Yeah.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know,” he turned to look down at you. “I know.”

“Won’t kill you.”

“Don’t push it.”

You remained on your bed, hugging your knees to your chest, as he walked himself out of your room.

He paused, hand hovering over the knob.

“I like your callsign,” he finally opened the door, throwing his final words back at you as an afterthought, “Glad you 'aven't changed it. Suits you.”

You didn't ask him to explain, didn’t have the energy to call after him. You were too focused on the fact that he'd left the shirt on your desk; once again leaving you with a piece of him that you didn't know how to handle.

~~~

You didn’t want to check the time, fully aware that it was an early hour nobody else would be awake to see.

Your heart was beating too fast, and it traveled to your ears to create an obnoxious, suspenseful thump.

Were you dying? Or did it just feel like you were?

You could feel the sweat on your body, dampening your sheets; making them cling to you in unruly patterns that would surely press into your skin, leaving faint lines to show for your lack of sleep. But even soaked in your own sweat, cold to the touch, you felt like you were burning—like you had been stuck to some kind of pyre and set alight.

You were back in that hazy state. Underwater and out of control.

Every time you slept, you would dream; every dream you had became a nightmare.

In every nightmare, you were back on the ground.

Your breathing had been labored when you woke up, and though you were still panting, the nausea that had lurched within you now subsided into an inconsistent waver that occasionally rolled over your stomach.

You sat up, shoving your head between your knees and counting your breaths.

Five in; hold for five; eight out; hold for two.

Your legs were shaking, and your skin was numb, but you could still feel the press of your knees to your temples as you sat there, counting.

And then as soon as it had begun, it was over.

Maybe not over entirely, but you’d overcome the peak and were now on a steady decline.

You felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes, and it made you feel weak; a special ops soldier who panicked and cried could hardly be called a soldier at all.

The conversation you’d had with Simon came back to you, remembering his random divulgence of the fear he’d faced when he first joined the military. But you weren’t a rookie, you weren’t new to this—the only part you were unfamiliar with was the genuine fear.

He’d said that trying to get over it on one’s own wasn’t the heroic option he’d thought it was.

And he’d implied that he’d be happy to help.

On shaky legs, feeling practically boneless, you walked to his room, tiptoeing as you tried to keep yourself small.

It wasn’t hard—you already felt meek, crushed by your nerves.

You lifted a hand to his door hesitantly, unsure if he’d even be awake; unsure of what exactly you wanted from him.

But you did knock, and he opened the door, looking at you expectantly.

You swallowed. “Can I come in?”

He didn’t say anything, moving to the side and gesturing vaguely into his room. You hurried in, and Simon closed the door, walking forward to stand in front of you as you puttered around his room.

“What—” He began, but you cut him off.

“I have been pushing it down.”

“Mm?” You saw his eyes contort in confusion.

“The other day. You said you thought you had been valiant to push it down—said I could come to you if I needed anything.” Your words were rushed, and maybe louder than they should’ve been.

“Said ‘if you need anything,’ and then—"

“Simon.”

He held up a hand in concession.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it, and it isn’t working. I’m—” You felt a sudden onset of emotion, voice breaking. You tried to swallow the lump that formed in your throat to no avail. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?” He asked, and his voice came out low, quiet—almost as if he was attempting to sound softer.

“I don’t know.” You admitted.

He nodded, still standing at a distance. His eyes stayed trained on your face.

“I can’t sleep, I can’t—I feel like, I dunno, maybe it’s just because of how…unexpected…it was. But lying out there, on the fucking ground, on the dirt, bleeding, I felt peace, LT,” you had given up on holding back the tears, and they flowed freely down your cheeks. “I could accept what was coming. And now I’m back, I’m here, I’m alive, and I—I’m sore. Like, in my—in my soul, I’m sore, and I’m so, so fucking tired.” You took a shuddered breath. “And I’m scared.”

Ghost was quiet, but he finally moved, situating himself on the edge of his bed and motioning for you to join him.

“Sit.”

You obliged, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you sat next to him.

He sighed, staring at the wall. “Not something you jus' move on from.”

“But I want to get better.” You argued, swallowing another sob.

“Y’will. In time.”

“When?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“Need to know basis?” You rolled your eyes, still sour about being left out of the last mission.

“Yeah,” he turned his head to look at you, and for the first time, you recognized the exhaustion in his eyes. “But you’re the one who’ll know." He moved to rest his hand on your knee. "S'not an answer anybody else can give you.”

Ghost didn't do physical affection the way Soap and Gaz did, and a gesture as forward as placing a hand on your leg felt deeply intimate coming from him.

You liked it. Partnered with his words, the weight of his touch made you feel better.

“Some help you are…” You smiled softly, glancing at him in your peripheral as you sniffled.

“Talkin’ about it, aren’t you?” You could see the movement of his brow as he raised it beneath the balaclava.

You sighed, nodding an affirmative.

“Talked to Gaz about it?”

“No…not—not like this,” you turned to face him.

His hand slipped off your leg in a manner that seemed almost reluctant. Immediately, you missed the warmth of his palm.

When he looked down at you in his trademarked silence, you continued.

“I trust you.”

You thought his eyes might’ve creased, giving away a smile under the balaclava, but you didn’t dwell on it.

“Can I ask you something?” The question popped into your head, and you figured now was as good a time as any.

“Wha’s’at?” He shifted on the bed, giving himself more space to look at you without having to crane his neck.

“You weren’t drugged the other day.”

“S'not a question,” he pointed out. “No. I wasn't. Told you ‘at.”

“So, you were just…joking? When you made the, uh…that remark about…grandkids.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, "About me giving you the go ahead?"

This time, you were certain he was smiling.

“D’you think I was joking?”

“I—maybe…” You chewed the inside of your cheek.

He shrugged, leaning back on his hands.

“You’re tired, Simon.” Unable to get a straight answer from him, you changed the subject.

“Projecting a bit?” He straightened back up, folding his arms, and you frowned at him.

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

“Rarely do.”

“Are you scared?”

“Not th’first time I’ve been shot at, love.” He was deflecting.

“Are you still hurting?”

He hesitated. With a huff, he answered.

“…I guess. Li'l bit, yeah.”

“Can I please just give you something for it?” You weren’t trying to beg, but it certainly came off as if you were, "Just some Advil?"

His gaze shifted around the room, and then back to you.

“Will it make y’feel better?” He tilted his head at you.

“It’ll make you feel better.” You countered.

He heaved a sigh, and you saw his shoulders sag a bit in defeat.

“A'right,” he nodded, “Yeah. Fine.”

You grinned at him through the tears that had dried on your face, rising from his bed and speeding down the hall to your own room. You grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen on your nightstand, then moved just as quickly back to his room.

“Take two.” You fished the pills from the bottle when you situated yourself on the bed again, holding them out to him.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Half of one.”

“Jesus Christ. Simon—”

“Fuckin' with you.” He took the pills from your hand.

You watched a bit too keenly when he pulled the balaclava up over his jaw to place the pills on his tongue. You could see the tip of the scar that brushed over his top lip.

He swallowed the pills dry, tugging his mask back down.

“Happy?”

“Thrilled.” You smiled, and it was genuine.

“Y’smiling at me, sweetheart,” he sighed, “Gone mental from exhaustion?”

“Maybe,” you rolled your eyes playfully, “Maybe I’m just…”

He stared at you, waiting for you to finish your thought.

“I’m glad you’re alive…” You sighed, staring at his chest rather than his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re alive.” He echoed your words, a bit more decisively.

You could tell he meant it.

There was a silence in the room, one that allowed the tension to really resonate. But it wasn’t uncomfortable—if anything, maybe it was necessary.

“Think you’d rather stay ‘ere tonight?”

“Here?” Your brows furrowed, unsure if you’d heard him correctly.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Could both benefit from some company.” He added, “Up to you.”

You absorbed the question, nodding slowly.

“Yeah. That would…that’d be nice.”

"Go on." He shifted on the mattress, motioning to the head of the bed.

Simon watched you maneuver yourself up the bed, kicking your legs under the covers and pulling them up to your chin. When you'd settled, he worked his way to a more comfortable spot. He lay next to you above the blankets; mask on, arms folded over his chest.

It wasn’t the way you’d imagined getting into bed with him—and you often felt ashamed for thinking about getting into bed with him at all—but it was comforting all the same.

“Let me ask you something.” He looked over at you when you’d made yourself comfortable.

“Okay.”

“You serious? ‘Bout wantin’ t’feel my hands on you?” His voice was low but carried a playful tone, as if he were baiting you into a confession.

“What?” You laughed.

“In the infirmary, ‘fore I said that stuff about givin’ me—”

“Simon?”

“Mm?”

“Do you think I was serious?”

You rolled over onto your side, pleased with yourself. If he wouldn’t give you a straight answer, you wouldn’t give him one, either.

~~~

Simon was still in the same position he’d gone to sleep in when you woke up; lying on his back with his mask on, arms folded over his chest.

You had managed to position yourself against him, face pushed into his bicep. You found yourself wishing he had moved; tried to get closer to you, given some indication that he had noticed your shift and embraced it.

But no matter.

You snuck out of Ghost’s room as the sun came up, eager to avoid any prying eyes—if only to save yourself from the embarrassment of having to explain that nothing had actually happened at all.

But it had been a sounder sleep than you’d anticipated; he was warm, solid next to you, and that alone made you feel more at ease than you had in a while.

You found yourself in front of his door for a second night in a row.

“You a'right?” He opened the door on your second knock.

“I—yeah…” you answered, “It’s…I don’t…”

“Don’t want to be alone?” He finished the sentence for you, and you nodded.

He stepped aside, wordlessly, giving you space to walk through the door.

You had been truthful—you didn’t want to be alone. You couldn’t handle the idea of being trapped with your thoughts again in the dark of your room when you knew what was looming just behind your eyelids.

But the whole truth was that you wanted to be with him.

He tugged haphazardly at the blankets in an attempt to make the bed more appealing. Not that he really had to; you were tired, and it didn’t matter whether the bed you crawled into was made or not, as long as he was in it with you.

When he’d made the bed to his liking, you undid his hard work in a split second as you got comfortable under the covers.

You looked up at him. He stood by the edge of the bed, looking back at you.

“Left without sayin' anything this morning.”

“You were asleep,” you pointed out. “Why? Were you gonna make me breakfast?”

“Not with ‘at attitude.” He scoffed, and you laughed quietly.

He situated himself next to you, once again lying above the covers.

“I won’t make this a habit,” you muttered, “I promise.”

“S’a’right,” he shook his head, “Not really a problem, far as I see it.”

“Oh?”

“You ‘eard me.” He tilted his head back, closing his eyes.

He seemed so much more at ease in his own space, which begged the question:

“How come you wear the mask to sleep?” You couldn’t help yourself. “I mean—it’s your room, Simon. Nobody’s gonna see you.”

“You might.” His eyes reopened, and he tilted his head to the side to look at you.

“But I know what you look like,” you smirked, “I know who you are. And you’re not Ghost.”

“S’not true.” He mumbled.

“It is,” you doubled down, “Outside of this room, sure, but in here—in bed, at the very least—you’re all Simon.”

He was quiet for a minute.

“So ‘ow come you don’t wanna be Berserker?”

“Told you—just doesn’t feel like me.”

“But I’m still Ghost.”

“Yeah.”

“But I’m also…not.”

You hesitated. “Well, when you make it sound so…complicated…”

“I like your callsign.”

“Why?” You were genuinely curious to know what he thought.

“Thought I said,” he sighed, “Suits you.”

“You never said why.” You pressed him for more.

“You flip on a dime,” he explained with a sigh, “Go into this, uh, wild state. Pretty thing, goin’ completely berserk on the field—always liked it.” He exhaled a quiet, one-breath laugh, “And you’re damn near impossible to kill.”

You digested his words, but only one point stuck with you, and it made your heart flutter.

“You think I’m pretty?” You spoke coyly, covering your excitement with a playful tone.

He tensed his shoulders before letting them drop with a sigh of faux exasperation.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I think you’re pretty.”

You smiled, staring up at him from your spot on the bed—his bed.

“‘Nd you think I am, too—beggin’ me to take my mask off.” There was a smirk in his voice.

“Simon,” you rolled your eyes, turning away from him, “You ruined it.”

~~~

After spending several nights in Simon’s bed, you’d become used to the process of falling asleep to banter that bordered flirtation; of sleeping soundly and without distress; of waking up earlier than you’d like to, and creeping out of his room.

On the morning of the fourth day, you had woken up with his arm draped over your side, his hand pressed lightly against your stomach. He had positioned himself so that his arm perched over your hips rather than your waist to avoid brushing the scar that lingered even after your stitches had dissolved.

Maybe it had been an accident, just a subconscious pull to the heat of your body as you lay next to him, but it felt too precise to be coincidental—and that made you feel a sort of smug adoration.

You had stayed a little longer that morning.

You weren’t keeping it a secret, per se, but it felt wrong to put this newfound arrangement on display. Even if it was only something between coworkers—friends?—that benefitted your sleep schedule and made you feel less jumpy, you didn’t like the notion that people in the barracks would suspect it was something more.

Maybe you didn’t care about what other people thought.

Maybe it was more about what Simon thought; what his intentions were; whether or not you’d be overstepping by making it known that you’d been sleeping—and only sleeping—with him.

You strolled into the mess hall feeling well rested and hungry. Your appetite had finally returned, and you were happy to sate it.

“You look better,” Gaz addressed you from across the table, “Sleeping?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Been managing to go the whole night.”

“Good,” he sipped his coffee through a smile, “That’s good.”

You hadn’t told him it was because you’d been finding comfort in the Lieutenant’s bed.

Ghost and Soap approached the table, taking their respective seats.

Soap threw his tray down next to Gaz, grumbling as he sat.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gaz nudged Johnny with his shoulder.

“Slept nae a fuckin’ wink last night.” Soap mumbled into his coffee.

“Why?” You questioned.

Soap sighed, shrugging in defeat.

“Bet you could get something from the infirmary,” you suggested, “Something to knock you on your ass. If you keep getting no sleep, I mean.”

“That what you’ve been doing?” Gaz asked you, and your mind went blank.

“Hoping it doesn’t come t’that.” Johnny inadvertently saved you from having to answer Gaz’s question by responding to your initial prompt.

“Tried countin’ sheep, Johnny?” Simon finally piped up from his seat next to you.

“Bile yer heid,” Soap shot a deadpan look at him.

“English.” Ghost huffed.

“Fuck yerself—y’keep it up, I’ll crawl into bed with you, LT.” Soap turned to look at you, smiling as he quirked a brow “If there’s any room.”

“What?” You tried not to let the sudden wave of panic show on your face.

There’s no way he could know.

Was there?

“What?” Johnny laughed, brow furrowed, “Look’t ‘im—be a shock if he alone could fit into one o’the beds.”

You faked a quick laugh, looking over at Simon, who hadn’t reacted at all to Soap’s taunt. He remained completely unfazed, watching his coffee steam; seemingly unaware of your knee-jerk response.

It was like he had not a care in the world.

Suddenly, your appetite was gone.

“I have reports to finish.”

“Still?” Gaz looked at you incredulously.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Been putting them off too long.”

Picking up your tray, you wandered out of the mess hall and towards your room.

~~~

You forced yourself to stay in your own bed that night, and the night after that.

And it felt torturous, and not because of the nightmares or the creeping sense of dread—though that certainly didn’t help your quest to find independence. This discomfort was more about your lack of understanding.

You didn’t know why you were so concerned about other people on the base seeing you with him—nervous at the notion of your own friends knowing about this arrangement.

You didn’t understand why Ghost had become so attuned to your needs or what he meant by not seeing you in his bed as a problem.

He thought you were pretty. At least you knew that much.

Not that it did anything to help quell your doubts.

You had started sleeping in the same shirt that had caused you so much grief; after doing your best to lift the stains, you’d managed to make it seem like the shirt hadn’t been through hell and back.

Now if only you could make yourself feel the same.

You weren’t avoiding Simon on purpose—that’s what you told yourself, anyway. You just couldn’t come to terms with the fact that maybe he was being kind out of pity; that he saw how miserable and tired you were, and was simply relenting.

You didn’t want to get your hopes up, get riled up over the nothing that was sharing a bed with him.

Johnny’s offhand remark had, for some reason, made you feel odd. It was the way you’d reacted that made you feel bad, though, and Simon’s lack of reaction that made you feel worse.

His lack of an outward response made you upset. It dredged up the resentment you’d projected onto him. His clear obsession with appearing so stoic and uncaring in front of everybody made you feel unwanted; the fact that he could never, ever, seem to give you a reaction, no matter what you did, made you feel pitiful.

Meanwhile, your immediate panic at the thought of Soap knowing what was going on made you feel pathetic, and served to put into perspective just how deep your feelings actually ran.

The juxtaposition in reactions from yourself and him made you feel dirty.

You stared at the ceiling, trying to find solace in your bed after a day of forcing yourself to finish reports. You hadn’t been lying when you’d walked out of breakfast the other day—they had been piling up, and you had really needed to get them sorted.

You were tired. It wasn’t your best work, but at least they were finally done.

Someone knocked on your door.

“What?” You called out, prepared to hear Gaz on the other side.

“Open the door, sweetheart.”

Simon.

You opened your door a crack, just to peek at him, before finding the courage to open it completely.

“A'right?” He didn’t seem to notice your hesitation—that, or he was just ignoring it.

He was so good at ignoring things.

“Yes.” You lied, immediately turning bitter towards him.

“'Aven’t been comin' to see me.” He wasn’t asking, just stating the obvious, and it made you even more upset.

“Two nights,” you turned your back on him, walking further into your room. “Three tonight.”

You hadn’t really meant your movement as an invitation for him to come in, but Simon took it as one anyway. He followed you inside, shutting the door behind himself.

“D’you want to—”

“Do I want to sleep in your room?” Your words came out snippy as you cut him off, and indignation dripped from your voice.

He stayed quiet for a moment.

“Do you?”

“Did you tell Soap?” You began interrogating him.

“Mm?”

“Did you,” you took a step closer to him, “Tell Soap? About—about this? About…whatever this is. Me sleeping in your bed.”

“No,” Simon tilted his head to the side, “Did y’want me to?”

“Did I—what? What, so you can make a show of how you finally got me to behave for you?” You snapped, “Make sure everybody knows how easy it was to soften me up and get me where you want me?”

His eyes went wide for a moment before he collected himself with a huff.

“What?”

“I said what I said. Is this about you getting a little power trip?”

You felt lightheaded. You’d spent so long building walls around yourself to avoid your want for him, and he’d managed to tear them down in a matter of weeks. And he didn’t even care; he was seemingly ignorant to all of your emotional turmoil, to all the what ifs, and the sinking feeling you always carried of never being good enough for him.

“Making sure everybody knows that you’ve gotten another thing that you deserve?” You continued, irate.

He stared at you, resigned to your verbal onslaught.

“You don’t care what they think.” He spoke as if it was only just dawning on him.

“But I care what you think!” You broke, slumping over yourself slightly. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry, finding a happy medium in giggling so hysterically that your eyes began to water. “I care way too much about what you think, Simon! And I have no idea what you’re thinking, ever! You wanna know why I’ve been so fucking—I don’t know, upset? With you? For god knows how long? Why I'm so confused by this random fucking attentiveness?”

You stormed over to your desk, hastily grabbing the reports and walking back over to Simon to slam them against his chest.

“Be fucking certain they’re in order this time, sweetheart!” You mocked his accent, angry enough that you considered mimicry fair game.

He let the papers drop to the ground by his feet.

“You went from so easy to so, so difficult in the span of twenty-four hours, and I have never for the life of me been able to figure out what set you off!” You wondered if he even remembered the series of events you were talking about, if it stuck out to him the way it did to you. “You’re so complicated! You’re so fucking—and now you’re mad that I’m not running off to bed with you? So—so that you can keep me safe from myself and prove to me that you’re some fucking superhero? Wanna be my personal savior? Make me eat my words about your arrogance?” You scoffed, “Jesus fuck, Simon!”

You swallowed every emotion besides ire. Still, you felt a pang of remorse when you remembered what you’d said to him as he lay sleeping in the infirmary.

Sorry I yelled at you; it won’t happen again.

Now you were making a liar out of yourself, and it wasn’t even his fault—this was you still trying to push it all down, even after everything. The fear of rejection tried to overpower your desire for help from him; comfort from him.

The terseness of your words hung between the two of you, and you remained frozen in place, standing across from him, panting.

“Wasn’t mad.” You could hear the irritation in his voice, finally getting a reaction.

“What?” You huffed.

“I wasn’t mad. Never been mad at you.”

“Then what—”

“You needed a push.”

“And that’s how you thought to do it?”

“'Ow else would I have done it?” He sounded like he did on missions, blunt and loud, and the severity of his tone made you flinch.

“Any other way! You—you refuse to acknowledge the work I put into all of this! Then, now, you’ve always acted like I’m not good enough to be here!”

“I push you because I respect you,” he was practically yelling now as he matched your urgency, raising a hand to point at you for emphasis. “You respond better to assertiveness. You thrive on clarity, always 'ave. Thought I was fuckin' ‘elpin' you.” With narrowed eyes, he searched your face. "And maybe I was rough on you, but ‘ow the fuck was I s'posed to react—you think I knew what to do? When you were showing me such bloody—this gentle fuckin' devotion since day one?"

You thought you'd like getting him to snap, but you didn't. You could feel your cheeks heating up, sinuses stinging slightly as your body readied tears.

You felt stupid, the situation lamentable. It had always been a misunderstanding; a lapse in communication between two people who understood each other but refused to relate. Someone who wanted to adore, and someone who had no idea how to be adored.

He had always been attuned to your needs. He was just godawful at showing it.

You shrunk into yourself a bit, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay. You avoided his gaze as you chose your words.

“Are you proud of me?”

“What?” He looked down at you in disbelief.

You doubled down, trying to keep your voice even, “Are you proud of me, Simon?”

He took a long breath, debating his next move, before tugging his mask over his jaw.

In one swift motion, he pulled you into him, not bothering to weave his arms under your own and instead wrapping himself around you with your arms still slack at your sides.

“Fuck are you talking about?” He growled, one hand coming up to cup your face.

And then he was kissing you, passionately, but in an oddly chaste manner.

You gasped, shocked by how forward the action was and by how much you responded to it. You wiggled your arms out of his grasp, one hand finding purchase on his chest while the other flew to the nape of his neck.

He pulled away from you, and you found yourself chasing the slow movement of his lips against yours, already missing the vague taste of him you’d gotten from the gentle kiss.

“You’re fuckin' stubborn,” Simon spoke just above a whisper, deep voice ragged as he caught his breath, “You’re one of the most competent people I’ve ever worked with. You call me on shit people three ranks above you wouldn’t, and you’re right. You stepped on a landmine, and you lived.” His thumb brushed over your cheek as his hand kept up the responsibility of holding your face up, ensuring that your eyes met his. “Who cares ‘f I’m proud of you.”

It wasn’t a question, more of a statement, but you answered anyway.

“I do.” You breathed, and you finally felt as though the whole truth had been told.

“Well, I…” He swallowed, “I am.” There was a pause as he collected his thoughts, staring at you with a tender look of hesitation. “I am. And ’m sorry.”

“For what?” You wanted to hear it.

“Everything,” he seemed assured, “Not being—not being the right kind of support, not being clear about…”

When he trailed off, you wanted to push him forward into his feelings; make him say it, clarify how he hadn’t been clear about his true intentions or the nature of his emotions; make him put into perspective what Gaz had been trying to tell you in your room as you smoked through your skepticism.

But that would just make you feel cruel, and if he wasn’t ready to share that sort of vulnerability with you, then so be it.

Instead, you began a new line of questioning.

“Why’d you make that crack about us having grandkids?” You leaned against his palm where it rested on your face.

“Felt right. In th’moment,” he sighed, “Thought it was funny.”

“You were serious.”

“‘F you think I—”

“You were.” You delivered your claim with certainty.

He smiled, and you were thrilled to be able to see the rare presentation on his partially unmasked face.

“I was.”

“I’m not a problem.” You tried not to get distracted by how pretty his lips looked, curled so obviously at the edges.

“Not the way I see it.” He answered in a manner so typically Ghost, but it still served to prove your point.

“And you think I’m pretty.”

You watched his smile turn into something more akin to a smirk.

“'At's right. I do.”

“Gaz said…said you stayed with me. In the infirmary.”

“I did.”

“How come?” You wanted more extensive answers, unsatisfied by his brief responses.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Simon countered your question with another.

“You were pissed that I woke up when you weren’t there.” You continued to run through the series of events that had irritated you so greatly.

“Can y’blame me?”

“Yeah.”

He closed his eyes for a moment upon hearing your reply, perhaps recognizing his own shortcomings in how he was dealing with this conversation; or recognizing that he had, in fact, been in the wrong to get so aggressive while you were still healing up.

He didn’t say anything, so you took it upon yourself to continue, trying to prompt him.

“You were mad.”

“I was upset.” He clarified with a hiss, not out of spite but frustration at his inability to express himself.

“Why?” You urged him on.

“Because—” He heaved a sigh, “Wanted you to know I...cared. Wanted it t’be something 'at registered…”

He was clearly struggling to describe his thought process, and you couldn’t blame him—he was a complicated man in every sense of the word, and you could only imagine what it was like inside his head.

But he was trying.

“'En you woke up while I was gone, 'nd I felt stupid, so I just…took it out on you, and everybody else,” he breathed, “And I shouldn’t ‘ave. And I’m sorry.”

You wondered if you were the first person to ever hear the words I’m sorry come out of his mouth, and you tried not to relish in the notion.

You tugged subconsciously at his shirt collar, and realizing that you both still hand your hands wound around one another made you blush.

“Why did you listen to me?”

“When?” He furrowed his brow enough that you could see his eyes crease.

“You let me lead—you treated me when I asked you to.” You explained.

“Think I’d jus’ let you bleed out?” His lips curled into a subtle smile again.

“Answer the question.” You tugged a bit more harshly on his shirt.

“I respect you,” he muttered, “You’re a good soldier.”

“That doesn’t answer my—”

“It does.” He cut you off, eyes boring holes into your own as if in an effort to telepathically send you the meaning of his words.

And you understood.

“So why did you use your shirt?” You swallowed, smiling softly.

“Y'ask a lot of fuckin’ questions, know 'at?” He huffed playfully.

“Yeah,” you shot back, not bending to his teasing, “Why’d you use your shirt.”

“No bandages.”

“So your first instinct was to just—strip down, middle of a warzone, wrap me up?”

“I need you,” he paused then, perhaps intentionally, as he tightened his grip around your waist, hauling you even closer against him, “Safe.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you parted your lips, but no words came out.

“I need you alive. And I’m glad I did it,” he was trying not to mumble, unsure of how his words would be received despite how you were clinging to him like some sort of life preserver. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat, touched by his sincerity and wanting to grip his face, pull him down into another kiss that you could deepen even further.

“Could’ve used a sock…” You opted instead to poke fun at him, hoping it might lighten the mood and ease the tension. You didn’t want to run the risk of kissing him with tears trailing down your face.

“Fuck off.” He chuckled, and you felt instantly soothed.

Simon tilted his face down ever so slightly, eyes leaving your face to take in the way his shirt framed your body.

“Looks good on you.” He seemed pleased.

“Cleaned the blood.”

“I noticed.” He nodded, eyes still scanning the fabric that adorned you. “Suits you.”

“You keep saying that, and I don’t know what you mean.” You tilted your head at him, your bodies close enough that you could hear his heartbeat syncing with yours.

You belonged here.

“'Ow much clearer could I be, sweetheart?” He scoffed in jest.

“Simon.”

“Mm?” He looked back at you.

“Shut up,” you shook your head, amused, “I’m giving you the go ahead.”

You pulled him down by the nape of his neck where your hand still sat, reconnecting your lips to his.

This time, it was different—his movements were hungry, and there was little time wasted as he worked to deepen the kiss. You parted your lips, beckoning him in and whimpering softly when he began to lick into you. The room was silent with the exception of the soft sound of his mouth exploring yours and the quiet hiss of breath.

He finally moved his arm, wrapping it properly around your waist, and you could feel his fingers pressing against your skin as if in an attempt to map you out, to bruise you with his fingerprints and mark you as identifiably his own. His other palm rested heavy on your cheek, sliding back to allow his fingers to brush through your hair leisurely.

Your own hands had also begun to wander, stroking up his chest and his back, grabbing at his shoulders and his arms in a desperate attempt to feel the warmth of him seep into your palm anywhere you could get it through his shirt. You felt delirious with want—every emotion besides lust fizzled out, and you were left with the knowledge that this was all you’d ever really wanted.

And now that you had it, you couldn’t get enough.

You tugged on his shirt. He took the hint, allowing you to walk with him in an awkward dance of intwined limbs until the back of your knees hit the bed.

You finally separated, though he kept his hands on your sides. You stared up at him as you caught your breath.

“Take it off.” Your words came out whined.

“Take what off?” He heaved a breath.

He knew what you were talking about, but he prompted you all the same in an effort to encourage you to take what you wanted.

You reached up hesitantly. With one one hand, you cupped his jaw, while your other hand gripped the fabric that he’d tugged over his mouth, peeling it off of him until his face was fully exposed.

It had only been a month or two since you’d seen his face unobstructed, but he was prettier than you remembered, if that was possible.

The scars that crisscrossed over his left cheek were a flushed pink, rosy against his pale skin; his eyes seemed sharper, keener as you analyzed his features.

His hair had grown longer on top, despite the fact that he had clearly maintained the close cropping on the sides.

Seeing him like this always made him seem human, and the circumstances in which you were seeing him now made it innately more intimate.

You kept your hand on his face, absentmindedly trailing your thumb down his cheek as you considered what you could say in this moment.

“Hair’s not regulation…” You mumbled, swallowing.

“Gonna tell on me?” When he spoke, the faint stubble that dotted his jawline scraped gently against your palm.

“No…” You couldn’t think of anything witty to say, “I like it like this.”

He didn’t respond, but his eyes grew softer as he stared down at you. His hands, still on your waist, dipped beneath your shirt and the feeling of his calloused palms running so gently up your bare skin made you suck in a breath.

“Simon…” You suddenly felt that you couldn’t make eye contact with him, lest you embarrass yourself by begging him to fuck you where you stood.

He looked at you expectantly for a moment before his gaze flicked down to where his hands stroked up your body.

“I want—” You tried to find the words that would make you sound the least pathetic, but realized that you didn’t really care as you settled on your phrasing. “Fuck me.”

“Yeah?” His voice gave away his eagerness.

“Please.” You added.

That was all it took to get him to grab you by the hips and tug you into him, turning the both of you around so that he could sit on the bed. You scrambled to straddle his lap.

He snaked his hands back under your shirt—his shirt—helping you out of it with one hand while the other traced patterns down your spine. When you tossed it to the side, you gazed at him expectantly, searching his face for a reaction.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you got one quickly. “Wanna…”

He never finished his sentence, and you didn’t have time to prompt him; his hands traveled up to your shoulder blades, face dipping down to bury himself in the cavern between your breasts and trail open mouthed kisses over your skin.

You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips, a response to the action itself and the way he felt against you; hot, wet tongue smoothing over the spots his stubble scratched at.

When he moved to take one of your nipples between his lips, you rolled your hips, arching your back. The action earned you a growl from him, and the small vibrations from his mouth made goosebumps erupt over your skin.

“Christ, don’t—” He grunted against the supple flesh of your breast, clearly struggling to hold back from reciprocating your movements as he bucked his hips gently up into you. “Fuck, c’mere.”

He grabbed your thighs before he stood, flipping you onto your back. Your legs dangled off the edge of the bed, and he knelt between your thighs.

“Should we take these off?” His fingers just barely dipped beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts, and you whined.

“Yes—yeah,” you raised your hips from the bed, “Go for it.”

Simon smirked, tugging your shorts down your legs and leaving you completely exposed to him. He trailed kisses up the inside of your leg, sucking hard on the skin of your thigh as he inched closer to your core.

“Knew you’d be a tease.” You huffed a laugh when he reached the top of your thigh only to move back and trail kisses up your other leg.

“Thought about it a lot?” He smiled against your skin, “Night’s young, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, but gasped softly when he reached the top of your thigh again and slowly began to leave kisses over your pubic mound, taking his time, dipping lower until he reached your clit.

You let out a shaky breath. How long had it been since someone touched you like this; since you’d exposed yourself to a hand that wasn’t yours, a mouth that knew how to put in the effort?

How long had you been aching to feel Simon this way?

Your hand flew to his head, fully appreciating the way his hair had grown out to offer you the proper length to pull on.

Simon moaned softly, pressing chaste kisses to your clit, but when you tugged harder, desperate for more, he let out a quiet growl and stared up at you as he finally pressed his tongue to your folds.

You knew he had good aim—snipers tended to—but the way he so expertly circled his tongue over your entrance, pressing into you and lapping up your slick made your back arch. You raised your legs to rest them over his shoulders, aching for him.

You could feel his breath coming out in warm huffs against your slick. He ate you like a man starved, and you bucked your hips into his face when he licked a broad stripe over your slit that culminated in him teasing your clit with the tip of the muscle.

“Greedy thing,” he teased, nipping at your inner thigh, “Taste even better 'an I thought.”

“Thought—thought about it a lot?” You threw his words back at him with a shaky voice, nearing the edge, and he laughed.

“All the time,” he wrapped his arms around your legs, forcing you to still as he pressed another kiss to your dripping cunt. “Hand wrapped 'round my cock, thinking 'bout buryin' my face in you,” he teased your clit, licking another stripe over you before continuing his rambling. “How fuckin' pretty you’d look, starin’ down at me.”

His words made you feel feral, and the knowledge that he had touched himself to thoughts of you, just as you had to thoughts of him, forced a whimper from your throat. You looked down at him with parted lips and lust blown eyes.

“Yeah, ’at’s it,” he nodded, staring back at you from between your thighs, face coated in your slick, “Jus' like 'at, sweetheart. Watch me.”

He dropped his face again, hands moving up your legs to grip the flesh of your ass and pull you firm against him as he sucked on your clit mercilessly.

You found yourself writhing beneath his ministrations, pulling his hair harder as you reached the precipice. You didn’t know if you wanted him to stop, to go easier on you; or if you wanted him to stay there, lapping at your cunt and overwhelming your senses forever.

Your thighs squeezed around his head, trembling, as your muscles tensed. Your vision went blurry from the pleasure.

“Cum.” He said it like it was an order, licking into you before quickly returning his attention to your clit, sucking down hard around the bud.

What was likely meant to be a scream came out a choked cry as you came, gasping his name and trying to curl into yourself as the stimulation became all too much for you to handle.

With a final kiss to your cunt, Simon removed his mouth from you, stroking his thumb over your hip and watching you shake.

“Good?” He whispered into your thigh, planting soft kisses over your skin as you whimpered through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Yeah—fuck, Simon, yeah. Good,” you panted, “Better than good...Christ.”

He hummed, satisfied by your answer.

You stayed sprawled out with him between your legs for a while longer, appreciating the soft touches of the man who projected such a harsh persona; reminding yourself how to breathe properly.

"Come." You stretched your arms out, staring at him as you encouraged him to crawl into bed with you.

He obliged, standing, and you bit your tongue to keep from taunting him about how easy it was now to get him to follow orders. He pulled you into him, and you pressed your hands to his chest, nuzzling beneath his chin.

“You gonna keep all your clothes on?” You mumbled, teasing.

Simon sat up, supporting himself on his elbow. He tilted his head down as he brought a hand to your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“Ask me again.”

“Simon—”

“Nah, c’mon,” he practically cooed, voice saccharine as he teased you. “Say it, sweetheart.”

“You want me to beg for you?” You matched his tone.

“Bet you’d be good at it.” He quirked a brow, smirking.

You sighed, fully willing to give him what he wanted even if it was in jest. Grabbing his collar and pulling him down so that your nose brushed his, you spoke in a whisper.

“Will you please fuck me, Simon?”

He smiled, but the glint in his eyes read almost predatory.

“Good girl.”

He sat up, pulling off his shirt and exposing his chest to you. It wasn’t anything new; you'd seen him in states of undress like this, but when his lips were still wet with your cum, it felt different in the most magnificent of ways.

You watched him stand, sitting up to get a better view; his stitches had already dissolved, but a scar still marred his left side, joining the dozens of other marks he'd collected during his time in combat.

With a smirk, he looked down at you and unzipped his fly, bending down to take his pants off, and you laughed at the showmanship he displayed.

Cocky motherfucker.

But you rubbed your thighs together when he took off his boxers, all the previous teasing production value gone as he straightened up and kicked them to the side with a huff.

You’d long wondered—rather immaturely—whether his size and stature translated to all of him. You felt your cheeks flush when you saw that you had been correct in suspecting that his cock lived up to the rest of him; thick and long, it tilted slightly to the right, and one solid vein trailed up the underside. His tip was pink and leaking, already smeared with precum, and when you realized that it was likely because he had found pleasure in going down on you, you swallowed a moan.

He rolled his shoulders back, and you thought you might be drooling.

He stood at the edge of the bed, looming over you as he always did, but now with a level of hesitation. He bent down to brush his lips against yours, and you eagerly accepted the kiss.

“Tell me what you want.” His breath was hot against your mouth.

“Told you…” You whispered, bringing a hand up to trace the tattoos on his arm.

He shook his head. “Tell me how you want it.”

You were thrown off guard by his prompting; you had been excited to let him do whatever it was he wanted.

And so that’s what you voiced.

“Any…however,” you swallowed, “Just want it to be you.”

His eyes softened for a moment, but you couldn’t admire him for long as he quickly embraced you in another kiss, pushing you onto your back again and moving clumsily to kneel on the bed beside you.

Simon’s hands ran down the length of your body, thumbs hooking between your thighs to admire the soaking mess at your core. He situated himself between your legs, encouraging you to hook your knees over his hips.

You couldn’t help but stare up at him in awe, the once callous Lieutenant who you swallowed your feelings for, now touching you with such care and admiration—and he looked good doing it.

He moved one hand from your hip to your face, cupping your cheek and staring down at you. The iciness in his eyes was back, but it was in a sense of concern rather than ire.

“You tell me if it 'urts.” He traced your cheekbone with his thumb.

“Knew you could be arrogant, but Jesus, Simon,” you barked a laugh, “That’s just—”

“Meant your ribs, love,” he smirked down at you, and you grinned back at him. “But I 'preciate the vote o'confidence.”

“Freudian slip…” You mumbled, not even embarrassed at your mistake, finding the humor in it and relishing that he, too, was comfortable enough to laugh about it with you.

“Right.” He nodded, smug. He maneuvered himself so that his cock could rest against your stomach.

You tilted your head, looking down to admire the image. He was justified in his pride, despite the way he came off so pompous; seeing his cock against you like this made your breath hitch, the comparison it drew to your size versus his was unavoidable and absolutely delicious.

“You gonna fuck me, or just show off?” You wiggled your hips.

“Nice to know you’re still mouthy even on your back.” Simon huffed, amused, as he pulled back to line himself up with you.

When he notched his tip to your entrance, you bucked your hips gently, unable to conceal your excitement. He pressed a hand to your stomach.

“Uh-uh, sweetheart,” he grunted, “Patient.”

You whined, frustrated and needy, but you didn’t have to put up too much of a fuss before he sunk into you. He watched intently as your cunt swallowed him inch by inch, lowering himself to hover over you on his forearms, pressing his hips to yours.

You squeaked a moan, filled to the brim, and grazed your nails down his back, feeling the occasional indentation of a scar beneath your fingers. Simon pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed and breath coming out broken.

It was the most unshielded you had ever seen him, and you felt a sense of pride in the fact that it was you who had caused such a response.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he groaned, pulling his hips back an inch only to thrust shallowly back into you. You whimpered at the feeling, the way he had your walls stretched so taut around him. “Oh, fu—ckin’ hell…”

“Fuck me,” you whined, grabbing him by the shoulder blades. You pressed sloppy kisses to his mouth and chin, “Fuck me, fuck me—” It was a chant, a desperate repetition of your needs.

Maybe he captured you in another kiss to shut you up, but you didn’t mind. When his tongue parted your lips just as he began to rock forward, you nearly bit down on it, letting out a broken cry that he swallowed happily.

“Don’t want everybody 'earin’ you.” He shushed you, smirking into the kiss.

“Don’t—don’t care,” and you didn’t; if this was how everybody in the barracks discovered your situation with Ghost, you’d be proud. “Feels—you’re so deep.”

“I know,” he was typically smug, but you could tell he was enjoying himself just as much as you were. “Lift your hips, sweetheart.”  

You did as he said, lifting your hips enough so that he had room to reach beneath your body and grope your ass, tugging you into every stroke.

“Yeah, ‘at’s it—fuckin’ take it,” the pace of his thrusts increased. With his hands beneath your body, he straightened up, allowing himself to fuck into you deeper, rougher. “Fuckin’—fuck, take it, take it, sweetheart.” His head fell back as he moved, and you felt hypnotized by the way his chest heaved.

“Jesus fucking—Simon, please—” You bit your lip, really and truly attempting to keep the volume of your cries for him down, but he wasn’t making it easy. “So good—feel so good, please, just like that.”

His jaw was clenched but his lips were parted, and he looked over you with an intense focus, training himself to identify every little bodily response from you, and every little thing he could do to earn those reactions.

“Christ, look't you, love—” His lips curled into a fucked-out smirk, “Droolin’ jus' like your cunt.”

Dazed, you watched as he brought his hand down to your face, swiping the drool you hadn’t even realized you’d produced from the side of your mouth with his thumb. He pressed the digit against your lips, and you opened, eagerly sucking his thumb while he continued his bruising pace.

He watched on as you moaned around him, filling you at both ends.

His words spilled out of him, the vulgar vice grip your cunt had on his cock working him to peak vulnerability.

“You know ‘ow long I wanted this?” He bent down, slowing his pace to offer long, deep strokes that were just as overwhelming as the previous, faster pace. “‘Ow long I wanted t’see you droolin’ f'my cock? Would’a fucked you every night you slept with me—f’you said that’s what you wanted, would’a fucked you with ‘at bullet in my ribs.”

You could feel his cock punching against your cervix, the sharp, brief pain in your abdomen immediately fading to make room for the pleasure. And even so, with him encroaching on you like this, forcing you to take him as deep as you physically could, you still wanted more.

You moaned, irrepressibly needy as your hands wandered over his body above you.

Straightening up again, Simon pulled his thumb from your mouth. He took it between his own lips, tasting your spit and saturating the digit further before lowering it to your clit and rubbing circles over you.

“So fuckin’ stubborn—you’re a brat, ‘nd even when you make me pull my fuckin’ 'air out, I’d still let you do anythin' you want,” he couldn’t stop talking, and you were fine with it. His rambling on about his desire for you, paired with the motion of his hips, had you hurtling towards your second high. “Fuck, you feel good—fuck.”  

You thought maybe when he tilted his head down, eyes closing as he dropped his chin to his chest, that he was done talking. For a moment, it seemed that way, his attention refocusing completely on your body, as he collected himself and moved lower to hover over you again; nipping at the skin of your chest and licking stripes over your tits, moving his hand from your clit and kneading the pillowy flesh of your breasts.

But he moved to look down at you directly, nose brushing your own, and there was a flash of something in his eyes—soft and completely exposed.

“I love you.” He said it like a secret, the quietest cadence you’d ever heard him take on.

For a moment you thought maybe you were dreaming again—the nightmares morphing into something more akin to psychological warfare that you would wake up from and miss as if it were a nostalgic memory.

But then he said your name.

“I—fuck—I love you.” His breath hitched, and he was clearly attempting to distract himself from your silence by burying his cock into you deeper.

It made you moan wantonly—both his actions and his words hitting you somewhere deep, and you let out a gasp, reaching up to cup his cheek and letting your thumb trace one of the longer scars.

“I love you.” You echoed, meaning it more sincerely than anything you’d ever said to him, and though his brow furrowed slightly, he smiled.

“Again,” he panted above you, “Shit, say it again.”

“I love you,” you repeated, hand trailing behind his head and fingers combing through his hair, “I love you, Simon. I love you.” It was the second time in the span of a few hours that you’d found yourself chanting for him, and you were quite pleased.

“Fuckin’—” he sped up again, thrusting into you enough that the bedframe knocked against the wall. You almost felt sorry for whichever poor soul bunked next door. “’At’s it, sweetheart, let me ’ear you.”

He was delirious with lust, overwhelmed by his affection for you. And while it wasn’t something he was used to in any respect, he was certainly enjoying it.

“You fuckin’ tell me—you cum on my cock and you fuckin’ tell me ‘ow much you love it.”

He brought his hand back down to your clit, and your back arched off the mattress when he pressed down onto the bud, massaging over it in time with his thrusts.

“Let me see my pretty girl cum again.” He cooed over you.

His phrasing made you moan. His pretty girl; it rattled around in your brain and you let out a breathy sigh of approval.

“Your pretty girl…”

“’At’s what I said, sweetheart,” he nodded, and he would've been smiling if his focus wasn't entirely taken up on warding off his high. “One more, love. C’mon and gimme what I want.” He growled his words, briefly removing his fingers from your clit to pull your ankles over his shoulders so that he could wrap an arm around your thighs and hold you against him. “Fu—uck, tight little cunt…”

He kissed your ankle, replacing his fingers on your clit once more and watching your face contort in pleasure.

“Simon, fuck—don’t stop, don’t stop,” you stuttered through your whimpers, feeling the familiar heat build in your abdomen, “I’m gonna cum—please—like that, I’m gonna cum.”

He groaned, applying more pressure to your clit as he massaged it to the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Go on, sweetheart, gimme another one. Be a good girl, let me see your pretty face while you cum on my cock.”

You let yourself go completely.

“I—I love you,” you mustered the strength to follow his previous orders as the tug that built somewhere in your stomach finally culminated in a pleasant heat coating your skin. Your muscles tensed, your eyes rolling back enough that you could see colors distantly behind your eyelids.

“Yeah, yeah you fuckin’ do. You fuckin’ love it. You love me, sweetheart.” Simon groaned, “’Ere you go—squeeze me tight like ‘at,” his hips stuttered as he fucked you through your high. “Fuckin’ soak me. Good fuckin’ girl.”

His fingers dug into the skin of your thigh, trying to stave off his climax, if only for a moment longer, so that he could continue to enjoy the warm squeeze of your cunt.

When your moans became weaker, battling exhaustion to prolong the delicious overstimulation he offered you, Simon slid out of you with a grunt. He kept your legs up, keeping your thighs pressed together so that he could slip his cock between them and chase his own release.

“Fuck—” you yelped when the underside of his cock swiped over your clit, craning your neck to watch him fuck himself with your thighs.

You could see his abs tighten, desperate moans falling from his lips, and he looked so utterly beautiful as he struggled to control himself against the pleasure.

“Gonna fuckin’ stain you with my cum,” he heaved, rocking against you fervently, “Wanna smell it on you. Mark you up nice, let everybody know who you belong to—show ‘em 'ow good you are to your Lieutenant.”

“Please,” you mumbled your plea, pressing your palm to the back of his hand where it rested on your thigh, “Please…”

With his mouth agape, Simon’s brow furrowed, pushing his hips flush against the back of your thighs; he came with a low groan, bucking against you as he painted your stomach with his spend.

He panted, closing his mouth to swallow and staring down at you in a haze. He tilted his head back, heaving a satisfied sigh, before finding the motivation to move from the bed.

You felt a tug of melancholy, a sudden discomfort in being parted from him, but you watched on as he found what he was looking for and returned to your side.

He wiped you clean with the same goddamn shirt that, as far as you were concerned, started all this.

You fell into a fit of laughter, the adrenaline morphing from physical pleasure to pure amusement.

Simon stared at you like you had two heads.

“After everything that poor fucking shirt has been through, you’re gonna use it as a cum rag?” You tried to explain, and you watched his lips curl into a smile.

“Better a cum towel ‘an a tourniquet.” He quipped, quirking a brow at you.

“Just got the blood out…” You grumbled playfully, and he tossed the shirt off to the side somewhere.

“You’ll live.” He sighed, pressing his palm into your now clean, if not a bit sticky, stomach and appreciating your warmth.

After he had taken a moment to admire you where you lay on your back, he stood, walking around the bed to situate himself next to you. When he’d made himself comfortable, he wrapped an arm around your hips, pushing you onto your right side before tugging you into him.

“Never thought I’d be spooning with Simon Riley.” You sighed, placing your hand over his where it rested on your stomach.

“Consider y’self lucky.” He chuckled.

You fell into a peaceful lull, wrapped up in each other and silent.

“You love me.” You weren’t asking, more so reassuring yourself with a quick statement to ensure that what he’d said in the heat of the moment was true.

“I do,” he nosed your neck, kissing you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You whispered it, bringing his hand up from your stomach to kiss his knuckles.

He hummed quietly, and you continued to plant soft kisses over his hand until you were satisfied.

“You still mad at me?” He questioned, and you laughed.

“You really have to ask?”

“Good to be certain.” He sighed, and you shook your head, grinning.

“I don’t want to sleep in your room tonight.” You muttered.

“Don’t ‘ave to,” he responded in a similarly soft tone, “Won’t make you. Say the word, I’ll leave. You can get some sleep.”

“No,” you smiled at his lack of awareness, “Don’t want to sleep in your room—want you to sleep here.”

He was quiet for a moment. You looked over your shoulder, uncertain, and he was already looking back at you with a smug grin.

“’At’s what you want?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. S’what I want, too.”

You rolled your eyes, pressing your back to his chest.

“Gonna sleep without your mask on?” You teased, eyeing the balaclava where it lay on the floor amongst the rest of your discarded clothes.

“Might as well,” he huffed a laugh, “Cock’s out—nobody’ll notice my face if they come in.”

“I will.”

“I want you to.” He sighed, pressing himself against you so that your head rested beneath his chin.

“Good,” you yawned, “That’s what I want, too.”

Simon chuckled softly, leaning back to reach for the lamp on the nightstand and clicking it off. There was another stretch of comfortable silence, and you felt the soft edges of sleep begin to take hold.

“I’m glad you’re alive.” Simon whispered into the darkness of your room.

“I know,” you were just awake enough to respond, “I love you, too, Simon.”

You fell asleep with his arm draped over you, perched over your hips rather than your waist, his hand pressed lightly against your stomach. But this time, you were both under the covers.

☆Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi :)☆

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for qwertynerd97 behind the cut; "kidnapping your soulmate for fun and profit". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Superboy grins at him again. Tim thinks he’s going to have to start just inventing new stages of grief, at this point. The current ones aren’t going to cover this situation. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just thought it might be a little harder to hang out together if you’re really never doing the civilian look,” he tries, and Superboy–stills, suddenly, and the grin vanishes all at once. Tim has a moment to be split between having an anxiety attack about having said the wrong thing or having an anxiety attack about the supervillain attack that’s about to land on his head when he still doesn’t have a mask, and then–

“You–what?” Superboy asks, looking startled. “I mean, uh–like–you wouldn’t get bored doin’ that?” 

“. . . hanging out with you?” Tim asks blankly. They’re soulmates. And also Superboy is quite possibly the literally least boring person he has ever met, douchey shades or not, and the list of “least boring” people in his life includes Bruce and Dick and more superheroes than he could shake his bo stick at. How is someone getting bored around him even a concern that would occur to Superboy? Like, literally ever? 

“No, I mean–” Superboy turns red, looking briefly embarrassed. “You wouldn’t have more fun hangin’ out with Superboy than just, uh–some guy?” 

It takes all of Tim’s Bat-training and gala-experience to not stare at him over that. That–what kind of question is that? 

“I mean, I’m just some guy,” he lies. “But I just meant it’d be way easier to hang out if we weren’t having to deal with people bugging you for selfies or autographs or whatever all the time, you know?” 

“I–uh, I guess,” Superboy says, still looking flustered. “Like–probably, I guess.” 

“Also I don’t want, like, a Gotham rogue randomly deciding you being in town is a good reason to start some shit,” Tim says wryly, because he definitely does not want that, in fact. “Feel like Batman wouldn’t like that very much.” 

“You believe in Batman, dude?” Superboy asks, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“You’re a half-alien clone and you think Batman’s hard to believe in?” Tim attempts to deflect with, because that was definitely a fuck-up on his part, and Superboy just laughs. 

“No, man, I just have literally never met a Gothamite who’d admit to believing Batman was a real dude,” he says. “I literally met Robin like a week ago and, like, pretty sure he was low-key trying to convince me he didn’t believe Batman existed.” 

It was not even a week, Tim thinks, mildly indignant for no good reason, then puts Dubious Civilian Expression #1 on his face and rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, Batman’s one thing, but no one actually thinks Robin’s real,” he snorts, and Superboy laughs again, sounding straight-up delighted about it. 

“No, he totally is!” he protests, grinning at him again too and linking his hands together behind his back as he leans towards him, which is incredibly, incredibly distracting for him. “Dude’s got the sick flips and everything and I totally saved his ass from Metallo. And, uh, then he totally saved my ass from Poison Ivy. Long story. Also he’s got a stick up his ass, like legit you would think that was where he kept that quarterstaff thing of his.” 

This is a dangerous topic, Tim recognizes while forcing down the instinct to reply it’s a bo staff, actually, they’re pretty different, and tries to figure out how to change the subject as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Robin talk is not a good idea right now, when there’s a risk of Superboy possibly noticing something about him, what with meeting Robin a reasonably fresh experience in his mind. 

Not that fresh, apparently, since he thinks it was “like a week” ago. But whatever. Not the point. Tim’s just annoyed by the inaccurate intel. 

. . . seriously. A week? 

“Batman or not, you apparently already have beef with Poison Ivy, so definitely I’d be worried about you being publicly in town without needing to pack a super-powered weed-whacker,” he says wryly instead of anything more damning or secret-identity-blowing. Superboy looks–weird, for a moment, leaning back a little bit to straighten back up. 

“You’d, like–actually be cool with me visiting you in Gotham? Like–that wouldn’t be annoying or whatever?” he asks, sounding just barely uncertain about it, and Tim again has to force himself not to stare at him. First: Superboy being any kind of uncertain whatsoever is the weirdest thing he’s ever seen, and second: they’re soulmates. People will spend a lot more time with their soulmates than occasionally visiting each other in different cities, especially five minutes after meeting them when they’re still trying to figure out who and what they are to each other. Again: Tim has investigated multiple missing persons cases that turned out to be “I found my soulmate” cases! Multiple! In Gotham, even! 

“Yes,” he says instead of any of that. “I would actually really like you to, in fact.” 

“Oh,” Superboy says, and turns red again. “I–uh–yeah, I guess that’d be cheaper than you needing to buy a plane ticket or run up your phone bill if you ever feel like shooting the shit or whatever, huh?” 

“I have unlimited minutes, actually,” Tim says, forcing down another stare. The staring would not help, at this moment. Or like–ever, probably. “And the plane ticket was only like a week’s allowance, plus my dad’s got a disgusting amount of frequent flyer miles saved up he never remembers to use anyway. I’ll buy you a plane ticket if you don’t feel like flying yourself.” 

“. . . uh,” Superboy says. Tim should stop talking, probably, but– 

“Also you’re my soulmate,” he says. “I could get, I dunno, an after-school job if I actually needed to cover anything like that. I just figured we could take turns flying over or something. I mean, if you decided to go to college in Gotham in a couple years or something I wouldn’t complain, obviously, just we’ve just met and that seems like a bit much to suggest first thing. Especially, uh, since you don’t actually have any transcripts, apparently. Um. Just, well, if you ever did want to be a civilian sometimes . . . like, eventually, I mean? Well, Gotham’d probably be a good place to hide a Super, right? Nobody’d expect to see you there, and it’s not like you can’t commute.” 

Superboy is staring at him now. Tim thinks maybe he said something wrong after all. Or maybe the lycra rando is about to jump him from behind. 

Fifty-fifty, given the way his life tends to go. 

“Um,” he says. “Like–no pressure or anything. I could also look into colleges out here, do you know if there’s any good programming–uh, programs around? Like just tech in general.” 

Superboy is still staring at him. 

. . . okay, at this point, it’s probably that Tim said something wrong, yeah.

[meracyn]

Fairy Whispers ༄

a/n ; first ever fic ! apologies in advance if it isnt too good 😭 thank you for requesting anon <3 this fic is meant to be platonic, but read it either way you’d like + tomorrow ill probs post some shuichi content, n e ways i hope you enjoy !!

Fairy Tail.

The world where magic and adventure intertwine at every corner; where many are given the gift of bearing a sort of power, yet not everyone uses it to help and save others.

There’s corruption. Murder. Bloodshed caused by those consumed by the desire of gaining more power.

But of course, there are always ones with a good heart.

It was a sunny day today; and a day where everyone at the Fairy Tail guild could relax. Everyone was mostly off doing their own thing. Some drinking, reading quietly, chatting or hanging out with others.

It was supposed to be a chill day today, but definitely wasn’t for Lucy.

“Stop! Please, don’t hurt them!”

Lucy was sent on a mission — having to catch some robbers on a small village. It was pretty simple, so she took her time walking around, enjoying her alone time, or was, until she heard faint cries of distress. Following the sound, she came upon a scene that caught her off guard; it was a group of fairy poachers, trapping innocent fairies in nets, crushing or squeezing them in dirty bags. Lucy felt anger, and knew she had to act fast. Summoning her celestial spirits, she began to attack them, using her quick wit and power.

After sending them all flying off, Lucy quickly freed all the fairies, who hid or flew off as well, except for one. Stuck between a net, Lucy picked up the fairy out of the strings. The fairy, with sparkly wings and tear-filled eyes, looked up at Lucy, admiration, yet a hint of sadness mixing in her expression. “Thank you so much for saving me and my friends..” Slightly trembling, she continued. “I thought I was going to be their next experiment..”

Lucy smiled a little, lifting her finger to pat the fairy’s head. “It’s okay now, I’m here to protect you.” She said, hoping to provide her some comfort. However, as they both turned around, Lucy realized the amount of damage that was done. The poachers had destroyed the fairy’s home in the chaos, leaving her with no place to return to. “Where will I go to now?” the fairy whispered in worry.

Though dwelling in sadness, the fairy was admired by Lucy’s quickness to get involved and save her. “Thank you for saving me,” she said, voice slightly shaky. In a moment of thankfulness, she leaned in and gave Lucy a gentle kiss on the nose.

To their surprise, Lucy’s nose began to grow—two feet long, just like Pinocchio — Lucy was stunned — poked her nose, felt embarrassed and shocked. She did not expect that to happen by one small kiss. “Well, at least no one will see me like this! I hope...” she tried to joke, chuckling awkwardly.

The fairy gasped at the sight of Lucy, wondering how the kiss caused that strange effect. “Oh no..I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that would happen, but I’m sure it will wear off in a day.. I’m so sorry..” She cried out, frantically flying around while apologizing profusely.

Lucy only chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “It’s fine! It isn’t your fault, I know you have good intentions. But I guess I can smell trouble from a mile away now!” she exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood. The fairy, though still blaming herself, ended up smiling a little at Lucy’s attempt to make her feel better about the situation.

As they walked together, the fairy got an idea. “What if your nose becomes my new home in the meantime?” Lucy looked at her with an expression that said ‘That is the most wild idea I’ve ever heard.’ At the same time, she did understand how the little creature must be feeling, – losing the only place you call home is devastating.

“Does that mean you’ll decorate my nose and cut some parts to resemble it as a house?” Lucy teased. The fairy let out a short giggle while nodding, going along with Lucy’s jokes. “Now that you said it, maybe I should.” The celestial wizard feigned a look of horror before the two burst into laughter. Lucy promised to help her find a new home, and to find her whenever she needed help in the future.

The rest of the day was spent with them both picking up flowers, grass and small sticks. Using her magic, the fairy transformed the objects into a cloud seat, a small bed, table and chairs, filled with laughter along the way. Despite Lucy’s strange nose, she wasn’t too worried about it – at least it wasn’t permanent. Although it did feel really weird, she never would’ve expected to feel her nose heavy. Is this how Pinocchio felt? The blonde wondered. “I’ll definitely never forget this day.” she chuckled.

As the sun began to set, Lucy decided to lay down on the grass, humming contently as the cool breeze brushed against her skin. This experience was definitely strange but ending up being a lot of fun in the end.

It was quiet for a while, before she spoke up. “Like I said, whenever you need help, come find me at fairy tail. I’m Lucy Heartfilia, and I promise to always protect you.” Turning her head slightly, Lucy raised her hand, holding her pinky finger out. The fairy smiled, giving a nod. “I’m Y/N, and I promise you will always have the protection of the fairies from now on.”

They linked pinkies, under the starry night sky.

[puppetwoman17]

I would like to expand on the joker junior idea. Imagine Batman going to arkham to interrogate Joker for another case, leading to him getting beaten by bats while laughing about how he not only failed Jason but Tim as well. Laughing about how he tortured him, revealing his identity, how easy it was to break him. Batman then threatening to end him and joker replied with "Oh Batsy, if you truly were capable of doing it then Junoir wouldn't have needed to shoot me".

While that was happening everyone except was listening in the whole time and are seething about everything they heard until Tim put his ear piece back on that he took off before Batman started his interrogation because he knows it will get them nowhere so he tries to find a new lead (not because the very sound of Joker's laughter sends him back to when he was screaming as he was getting electrocuted and injected with joker venom that ridiculous he's fine) and told Bruce that he found another lead, getting him to stop pummeling Joker and leaving while he was left there laughing.

Sorry if this is all over the place it was something I came up with after reading your posts. Keep up the good work!

Thank you so much for this!

God that would honestly be mortifying for everyone involved(except the Joker obvi). All the kids are expecting him to taunt Bruce about Jason, and he does. He teases him on how he couldn’t get there in time and how his son still blamed him. Which, sure, Jason has his own gripes with his death, but the Joker is the person who he is LEAST okay with saying this.

But then things take a turn. The Joker starts talking about his SON, and since when did the Joker have a son? He calls him Junior. Teases the Bat that he was too late in saving him, and his boy would ALWAYS be a part of your little Red Ro—

Holy fucking shit.

Nightwing is screaming now. He demands that Batman tell them what the Joker meant. Why hadn’t he been told? What happened to Tim? Why did the Joker know him so well?

Jason is close to having a panic attack, because not only is the one person who scares him anymore on the loose, but he did the same to Tim. To his little brother. To someone who he’s grown close with over the years. Who definitely had a rocky relationship with him. Who talked with him despite that and worked with him despite that. To hear that that very same little brother had been attacked the same way he had, and worse, is more than enough to send the Red Hood on a rampage. The Joker isn’t escaping again, that’s for sure.

Cass is not one to make her presence known. She knows how to keep quiet. How to wait for the right time to strike, but she’s on the Joker in the next possible minute. Even Batman steps back and watches as she beats the person who hurt her brother into the ground. Batman doesn’t know whether to cheer her on, or tell her to stop.

Spoiler is the only one with Tim, and she can’t help but just stare. She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t yell or cry or accuse him of keeping such a heavy secret, she just looks at him. Not with pity, but with the sinking realization that no one knew. Not even her.

Damian wasn’t allowed to leave the cave. He’s sitting by the Batcomputer with Alfred behind him. While he and Drake didn’t have the closest relationship, it’s been some time since he truly thought of him as anything but his brother. He learned from him frequently, how to handle a specific gadget, how to deal with the Batman when his temper flared(slightly, he’s not an asshole anymore Dami(WHAT DO YOU MEAN ANYMORE??)). To hear about this horrifying experience and not be able to comfort Drake made him squirm in his seat.

He’s even more surprised when Pennyworth doesn’t give a single indication that he knows. Nightwing demands that Agent A tell them why he hid this from them. Everyone is shocked when he tells them he is just as clueless.

This is all background noise to Red Robin, because he just got a lead on where the Joker’s goons could be. He doesn’t pay attention to anyone’s words, instead telling Batman that he has a lead and to meet him at a location.

When all this is over and the Joker is back in custody, all Commissioner Gordon can do is pat Tim on the back and tell him to go the fuck home and sleep.

When all this is over, Babs locks up the Clocktower because she’s not dealing with this shit til she’s had her morning coffee.

[filmbyjy]

MINESTREAM

SYPNOSIS > Wanting to start a new stream series with his best friends, Jay had a bright idea of playing some simple Minecraft with them. Everything was normal, until he realises there is another person in the call with them. He quickly learns that it was ni-ki’s older sister, (name). Watch how streaming a simple game of Minecraft can dig up some interesting feelings between the main leads.

FIFTEEN – that man is a f*cking simp

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

a/n: i used papago for like the translation so please correct me if I’m wrong😭

with the night wind blowing at your hair as you walked around with jay, you can’t help but closed your eyes. it was a nice walk at night. you had spent the afternoon with him at the cafe and talked a lot about a bunch of things.

you found out he liked a bunch of older songs, especially rock songs. he played the guitar and was trying to play more often. you also learnt he was decently fluent in Japanese, which surprised you.

“you know Japanese?” you say a little in shock and awe.

“yeah, I learnt it so that I didn’t have to keep staring at the subtitle and just actually concentrate on the anime I was watching. took a long time though but it was worth it at the end. i’m still learning more phrases.”

“that’s so cool!”

“ありがとうございます (thank you).” jay replies.

“you sound like a local. i’m impressed. did riki ever accidentally speak to you in Japanese?”

“he did. maybe once or twice. i understood what he said so it was fine.”

“well, you sound natural. maybe even better than me in Japanese.” you say.

jay laughs. his laughter was truly adorable. you couldn’t help but melt at it. it made you realise that being alone with jay made you feel super comfortable. due to your past experiences with disgusting guys in japan. you couldn’t stay alone with any guy without feeling unsafe. that of course did not include ni-ki, he was your brother after all, and heeseung.

and now, currently after having a heartfelt conversation at the cafe for a long time, the sun had set. you and jay were walking around the park and towards the campus grounds. there was a cyclist coming closer to the both of you so jay grabs your hand and pulls you to the side so you wouldn’t crash into the cyclist.

“oh. thank you, I didn’t realise there was someone.” you say. jay snorts.

“maybe, you shouldn’t aimlessly walk with your eyes closed.” he squeezes your hand since he was still holding it.

“I was enjoying my peace. the night feels cool and nice so why not, you know? besides, it’s the weekends tomorrow. I just need a small breather before I have to go back to sitting in my bedroom and painting.”

jay hums. the both of you continued to walk with your hands intertwined. neither of you minded and really remembered that jay’s hand was still interlocked with yours. in fact, it actually felt comfortable like it was meant to be.

was this fate?

right as those 3 words popped into your thoughts, jay’s phone rings. he answered it with his other hand still walking with you hand in hand. you had kept quiet, just listening in to his conversation with whoever it was.

“I’m doing fine. mmm, I’ll try to visit you guys during summer break. no. I don’t have a girlfriend.” it caught your attention. you knew jay was a good looking guy, tons of girls would’ve loved to talk to him so why doesn’t he have a girlfriend.

“mom, I know you’re worried about me. I can handle it. I’m only 22 this year. yes, I’m doing well in college as per usual.” he chuckles slightly. “I don’t want to go on a blind date, mom. I want to find my own girlfriend. someone that understands me and likes what I do.”

his eyes met with yours as he finishes his words. your heart stops. you nearly had a heart attack because why would jay just stare at you as he finishes his sentence. what did that mean? there is no way he likes you…right? it was too early! he can’t like you that way.

jay finishes up his call with his mom. he places his phone back in his pocket and turns to face you. “so what are you thinking of doing during our summer break?”

“mmm, I’m not sure. I haven’t thought about it. probably more streaming.”

“do you wanna stream with me? I probably wouldn’t go out much during the break.”

“I thought you were going to visit your parents?”

“I am but we could stream together after I visit them.”

“you aren’t staying for a week?”

“my parents are usually busy, they travel around a lot so they’ll probably fly out a day or two after I visit them.” jay explains. you hummed.

“me and riki would would definitely be free.”

“perfect. I could ask the others if they’d like to play too.”

finally, you had arrived in front of your dorm’s apartment building. unfortunately, jay lets go of your hand. the warmth was all gone and you already missed it.

“rest well and don’t overdo yourself. I know it’s tempting for you to just continue doing your artwork but you need to rest.”

“yes, jay. I know. I won’t overdo myself.”

“that’s my good girl.” he ruffles your hair. “well, I have to go. the boys probably would expect me to come back soon. they can’t survive without me. the dorm would’ve burnt down by now.” jay jokes.

you laughed, “alright. before you go, can I ask you something?”

“sure.”

“can we stream tomorrow?”

“of course.”

you had stepped forward and quickly left a peck on jay’s cheek before bolting in to your apartment building. jay holds the cheek that you had left a kiss on as he watches your figure growing smaller. a stupid smile adorning his face, he was smitten.

you had opened your front door after taking an elevator up to the floor. it slams shut as you entered it and laid your back against it. your heart racing quickly, the heat flaming against your cheeks.

“oneechan, what are you doing?” ni-ki appears at the hallway, his eyebrow raised as he looks at you in question.

“oh my god, I- riki, why are you walking so softly. when did you stand there?” you say as you were flustered.

“I was about to walk to the kitchen but I heard the front door slam. what happened?”

“nothing. just went out.”

“was there another stalker?” his voice sounding a little serious.

“oh, no no. no stalker, just umm i saw a flying cockroach outside.” you lied. the worry in ni-ki’s eyes dissipated, it was quickly replaced with fear.

“we really have to move. oneechan, I’m going to find us an apartment that’s better than here and is equally as near to school.”

“umm, we don’t have to.”

“I don’t care, I’m paying for the rent. you don’t need to worry.”

“riki!”

“consider this as a big early birthday present.” ni-ki skips over to you and pecks your cheek. “only the best for you big sis!”

you had to tiptoe to pat his head, “you have to stop spending money on me, riki. I can buy things on my own.”

“not until you get that streamer money.”

“well, can you really blame me for joining an art course because it’s my passion?”

“not at all, oneechan! you just have to not feel bad every time me and yvette noona want to pay something for you.”

“but I’ll owe you guys.” you pout.

“shhhh.” ni-ki grabs you and pushes you towards your bedroom door. “you don’t have to feel bad, I’ll do anything for you and any one of my friends! trust me, I’ll even ask sunoo hyung for house hunting advice.”

“is he even a reliable source-” ni-ki stops pushing you to your bedroom when you reach the middle of your room.

“he is a very reliable source. now, get some rest! I’ll find a house by the morning and then confirm stuff by next week. we’ll be in a new apartment in two weeks time.” ni-ki blows a kiss to you and shuts the door.

you sighed. ni-ki was an amazing younger brother and you love him to the moon and back. he’s a one of a kind brother, anyone would want him. however, you felt so burdened by the fact that you felt like you owe something to him. you knew he didn’t care if you paid back or not and he always treats you. it’s just the guilt creeping up on you.

you looked down at your phone and glanced at the lockscreen, it was a baby photo of ni-ki. everything you did was for him. your parents could always trust you with ni-ki and vice versa. with them running a company back in Japan, it was hard for them to come home. hence, you had to grow up for ni-ki. of course, your parents were grateful. they always brought both you and ni-ki out as a little treat. it wasn’t a surprise when ni-ki wanted to fly out to Seoul with you to go college. he’s a constant in your life and your parents knew that. hence, they didn’t say no to ni-ki and allowed him to take the same flight as you.

you had taken a shower quickly and changed into your pyjamas before deciding that you had to sleep. you had to continue up painting before streaming again tomorrow. just as you dried your hair and then threw yourself on the bed, you can’t help but remember what you did when you came home. you hid your face behind the pillows.

as for jay…

he was busy giggling and kicking his feet in his bedroom. jake and sunghoon were confused as to why jay was just mindlessly walking to his bedroom and then they heard a ‘girlish’ giggle from jay’s room. both jake and sunghoon looked at each other in shock.

“he’s gone insane.” sunghoon says. jake nods.

“didn’t he go out with (name) just now?” jake asks.

slowly the put the pieces together, sunghoon’s eyes widened. “we’ve truly lost him.”

“that man is a fucking simp.” both sunghoon and jake say at the same time.

taglist[open]: @bldelaine @velvtcherie @shalkeren @kgneptun @yenqa @dammit-jjk @sionshiii @enhaz1 @mrchweeee @ncityzenz @autumn583 @okokok4 @ariadores @n1k1mura @kwiwin @drunkdazeded @justkatey @thatsroug @auesoooo @bunchofroses07 @j4ysluv @heeseungwifeyyy @smouches @bubblytaetae @dimplewonie @brachioanton @blackhairandbangs @heestrawberries @amesification @rizzshimura @y4wnjunz @rainyjy @pkjay @simjyunnie @imtoanonymousforyou @jungwoneez @jeongingf1 @astrae4 @heartswonn @pinkishyngs @heeseungsbabyy @in-somnias-world @ramenoil @wantmatthew @leehanascent @kayyssw @allisonleannn @kim2005bomi @saurxcream @urmomssneakylink @zyvlxqht @honeyboobear @ddazed-lhs @bee-the-loser @sunkislove @glassesyunjin @eleanorheartschishiya @jayjongie @woninluv @artstaeh @jwnghyuns @junissy @svmjaeyun @clairecottenheart @onigirik1 @woniejjang

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[eden-writes-stuff]

hi! I’m here after your post about Peter! if your requests are still open could I ask for another one with Wormtail? just something Peter centric; fluff or adventurous where he is being appreciated by marauders? could be just platonic marauders or prongstail/padtail (if you’re comfortable with this) in hogwarts/post-hogwarts

really loved your story 🤍

Tags: Peters birthday, hints at prongstail, Marauders are good friends to Peter

Wordcount: 408

"Surprise!"

Peter nearly suffered a heart attack when he entered the Gryffindor common room.

Just a little confused he looked around. The entire room was decorated with party supplies.

But there were only eight people in it. James, Sirius, Remus, Lily, Mary, Marlene, Pandora and Regulus. 

There was music, drinks and snacks and a table overflowing with presents. More presents than Peter had ever seen - at least ones that were meant for him.

"But my birthday was a month ago..." James and Remus took him between them, guiding him toward the best armchair at the fireplace.  "That's why we did it. Your birthday is always in the middle of the summer holidays, so you never get a party", James explained softly smiling at him. "But we also know, that you aren't really the guy for huge parties all about you, so we thought we'd keep it small", Remus added.

Peter could have snogged all of them. He didn't. Instead, he sat down in his designated place and tried not to cry. "You're amazing", he sniffled.

"So are you, Pete..." "The Amazing Pete!" Sirius announced from his place on the floor, raising his cup and everyone started cheering. 

Peter had never had a huge birthday party. Usually, he went out with his parents and some other relatives to have dinner, got a few boring gifts (socks, books that he never read...), and that was it, but this...

It wasn't like any of the parties they always did for Sirius where all of Hogwarts came together. It was just them. His favourite people all together. They had prepared games. Including a quiz centred around him - a very strange experience - and some drinking games.

It was a pretty perfect evening.

Until the point when they led him to the window and started counting down. Peter expected something loud and overwhelming. But the fireworks didn't make a single sound.

"Silencing spell. We know you don't like loud noises", James told him, softly placing a hand on his shoulder. Peter smiled up at him, carefully laying his own hand on James'.

"I didn't think any of you guys remembered anything like that about me." He forced himself to look out of the window again, staring at the bright lights in the distance. "Of course we do! I think you underestimate how much you mean to... all of us. We love you, buddy."

[maknaeswrld]

there | h.js

I'm thinking about you, in this place without you, in this placе where we usеd to be together, I still think of you all the time

wc: 7.4k

genre: childhood best friends to strangers to ???; gn!reader; idiots in love; fluff; angst.

cw: slight mentions of parenthood (they’re not parents); mentions of marriage; broken promises?; secrets; paced throughout the entirety of their career up to date (2023); panic attack; roomies are based of my irls; Eve actually has amazing luck and gets her bias in legit every single album; was not initially inspired by There, that song just really freaking fits this story

roadmap: starts in present; jumps back to pre-debut; tracks readers perspective throughout the years; ends back in present (The SOUND + 5 Star era)

Friendships don’t always end because of things you can’t come back from, they don’t always end in a spectacular burst of harsh words and emotions. A majority of the time, they end due to distance, fizzling slowly until it dies out all together, people with shared memories and experiences becoming virtual strangers.

But should that mean the promises you made to one another should die along with it?

You had never thought so, which is what brought you to this crowded stadium, standing amongst people who are a little too much like you, watching the man that you once knew better than you knew yourself performing, shining brighter than the sun. 

Han Jisung was where he was meant to be, doing what he loved with friends that get to share the experience. Friends that are important to him and you believe always will be. Unlike you.

Sure, the version of you he last knew all those years ago is likely still a fond memory to him, you’re sure he thinks about you at least every once in a while, wonders what you’re doing now—at least you hope he does. 

Truth is, being an idol doesn’t leave space for that kind of stuff. It’s isolating work; family, friendships outside of your members and other idols, a private life, it’s hard to maintain, which is why you never took it personally when the daily calls turned to weekly texts, monthly updates, and eventually nothing at all.

There were times you were tempted to message him, tell him you’re proud of him, that you miss him. But frankly, you don’t even know if he still has your number, or if the one you have is still his.

The albums littering your bookshelf that you had bought and spent hours listening to together had been joined by untouched copies of basically any Stray Kids album you could get your hands on. His photocards were now littered amongst the polaroids and cut up school yearbook pictures the two of you decorated your old bedroom walls with, all of them somehow surviving your move to America.

Sometimes you wonder what he’d think if he’d see your room now. The Jisung you knew would’ve joked with you, asking if you were secretly in love with him or if you just finally accepted he was the prettier best friend. But the Jisung in the photocards was a stranger to you. You felt more like a fan, a fellow Stay harboring a parasocial relationship with eight boys that you’ll likely never speak to, than you did an old friend.

But you were content with it all. Your best friend will always be your best friend, even if you never have another movie night with asinine amounts of junk food. Even if you never again get to see his unruly curls in the midday lighting as you eat breakfast together at lunch time. Even if your children only ever know him by your stories and his stage persona.

Promises were sacred to you, so even when you are painfully aware you’re no longer his best friend, you keep the promise you made all those years ago to your best friend. You support him with no question or hesitation. So when you heard Stray Kids were performing in your city, you didn’t hesitate to buy the overpriced ticket.

````

“How crazy would it be if Chan-hyung’s idea actually works? Think about it, your best friend could be an idol someday!”

You laughed at his quiet excitement. During his time at JYP Entertainment as a trainee, you’d grown fond of his two friends, Chan and Changbin, having quickly become 3Racha’s first fan and biggest supporter.

“I can’t wait to tell interviewers embarrassing stories from your childhood.”

“Go right ahead, you were by my side for all of them so they’re your embarrassing stories too!”

The both of you laughed, knowing he was right, and while the banter continued on like that, discussing the what if’s of Chan’s success, you couldn’t help but start to wonder where you’d truly fit into the narrative.

Bang Chan had gotten tired of sitting on the sidelines, patiently waiting his turn, quietly holding his breath every time groups were formed, hoping his name would be amongst them. You knew he’d been there longer than anyone, he likely knew more people in the industry personally than you could hope to even as a fan, and he knew how to have a successful group, he’d seen enough of them come out of his time as a trainee. So you hadn’t been shocked when Jisung had told you about his idea and he systematically started hand picking eight other trainees and approaching them with it, starting with Jisung and Changbin.

You hadn’t officially met the others Chan had chosen, but you had seen them practicing when you brought Jisung his lunch that he had forgotten at your place. 

For a rag tag group thrown together by a trainee, they were pretty good already and you could see them being very successful one day.

````

“You’re gonna come to all our shows, right?”

Jisung was starting to get nervous about the plan. It’s been going well thus far, they had been chosen to debut but were now being put through the ringer to ensure they were to the companies standards. 

The boys had barely taken any breaks since being tasked with composing and choreographing a song entirely by themselves. You’d heard Jisung practicing non-stop, even while you were supposed to be having movie night. You knew he was more nervous than he’d own up to, but you also knew when he set his mind to something, he’d see it through to the end.

“All of them sounds unrealistic, Ji.” He pouted at your response, obviously disappointed. You just chuckled and shook your head. “How about this, I pinky promise swear that no matter what, I will attend every single show put on, in my area. Okay? Even if we get into some devastating argument and never talk again, even if we somehow lose communication and haven’t spoken in years, even if we get married and I four rugrats to deal with, I’ll be at every single one near me. Deal?” You held your pinky out for him to link his with.

“Three things. One, are you in love with me or something? You want my kids, Y/n/n~?” You both laughed as he teased you, tickling your sides, before he got serious. “Secondly, I’ll never let either of those other things happen. Ever. You’re my best friend. Nothing, not even becoming an idol, is going to change that. You are so stuck with me for the rest of your miserable life.”

“Does that mean marriage isn’t off the table for you?” You interrupted him, attempting to tease him back.

“If it means never losing you, I’ll put a ring on it right here, right now.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the complete sincerity in his eyes.

“You’re never gonna lose me either way, Ji.” You said softly, watching as his face softened before he finally linked his pinky with yours.  

“Then every show near you sounds good enough for me.” He kissed the back of your hand, pinkies still linked together, and you kissed his, sealing the promise.

````

The crowd held its breath as they awaited the final judgment on the fate of Stray Kids. 

You didn’t know Minho or Felix very well at all, having only spent a handful of short lived conversations in each others company, but the way Jisung had cried until he passed out and slept through the night on your couch after Minho had been eliminated from the group, and then shortly after did it again for Felix, you didn’t have to know them personally to know you needed all nine boys to be accepted. Stray Kids were nine, and you didn’t think you could accept it any other way.

So to say the relief and joy you felt at the announcement that they would debut as nine felt all consuming would probably be an understatement. All you wanted to do was drag the boys into a big hug and congratulate them.

As they finally left the stage, you couldn’t hold yourself back from running to meet a relieved and ecstatic Jisung. 

“We did it!” He yelled, catching you in his arms and swinging you around. He set you down, his hands moving to cup both sides of your face, squishing your cheeks gently and shaking you. “We actually did it, Y/n/n! We’re debuting!” 

“I know Ji, I saw.” You laughed, returning his gesture. You quickly made your rounds, congratulating the rest of the boys and hugging Minho and Felix tightly, before returning to Jisungs side and joining them for their celebrations.

````

The boys got pretty busy pretty fast after that and the time spent with your best friend decreased rapidly, but he always texted you every chance he got and would call or skype you as he was settling down for the night. Oftentimes, his phone would get high-jacked and passed around through his members while his protests could be heard in the background. You weren’t as close with the rest of them as you were with Jisung, but they had quickly become your boys and you couldn’t be prouder of all of them and prouder to call them your friends. 

Which just made it hurt all the worse when the nightly chaos calls slowly turned into weekly at best calls. 

You understood, you wouldn’t feel like a very good friend if you didn’t, but you still missed all of them like crazy. You wished you could be by their side instead of watching from the sidelines. 

A part of you knew you could be, that you didn’t have to put yourself through this pain if you just owned up and confessed. But telling your best friend since diapers that you’re in love with him, even if you’re pretty damn sure it’s mutual, is too terrifying a concept to consider. 

You knew being an idols partner would be stressful, but it would also give you a lot more time to spend with the boys. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, the risk of you being wrong and him not feeling the same weighing too heavily. The best case scenario would be you were right, you’d never have to leave your best friend's side, you’d be at every show like he’d wanted, you’d be there for everything; but worst scenario, you lose your best friend and the boy you love in one swoop, as well as the rest of your closest friends. 

You’d rather deal with the spotty texts and irregular calls than creating an unfixable rift.

````

Despite the damn near radio silence you’d endured while they traveled their first year as an actual group, you still made sure to keep the promise you’d made and bought a ticket to a small local show they’d be doing. 

You texted Jisung a picture of the ticket, not really expecting a response and being pleasantly surprised when he texted back a very Jisung response. 

SUNGIE: I knew you were secretly in love with me

Followed by a string of unrelated emojis. Your phone buzzed again with another text.

SUNGIE: the boys want to know if you’d be down to get food and catch up after the show, I already told them yes, you don’t have a choice, I miss my best friend

You couldn’t help the giddy feeling that arose in your chest at his messages, he was right for accepting on your behalf, you would never turn down the opportunity to spend time with your friends, but especially not Jisung.

You typed up a quick reply, agreeing and telling him you’d see them all at the concert.

The rest of the week couldn’t go by fast enough. Texts with Jisung had become a little more regular again, both of you excited for some time together, and you’d even gotten a call in. You were counting down the minutes to the concert, antsy to see your friends again.

Your roommate helped you pick out an outfit for the concert because “there’s no way you’ll be representing in jeans and a t-shirt, we’re going to look sexy as fuck.” and you couldn’t find it in you to argue. 

When the night finally arrived and you were situated next to your roommate not far from the stage, you couldn’t shake the anxiousness at seeing them again. They were your friends, and they always would be, but you wondered how much they’d changed in the year you’d been separated; you wondered if they’d still act like your friends.

Your fears were relieved fairly quickly as they finally took the stage. It only took about three songs for Felix to spot you, lighting up the moment he did and running around to inform the others. Throughout the show they each took moments to find you to wave subtly. It eased your mind knowing they seemed as happy to see you as you were them.

After the show, you and your roommate waited until most of the crowd died off before you said your goodbyes, your roommate heading for the exit as you headed towards the side of the stage, grinning and walking faster when you noticed Jisung peeking around the corner and waving when he spotted you.

You threw your arms around him the second you got to him, happy to finally have your best friend back.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the boys to crash your reunion, quickly dragging you into a group hug. 

“Hey back off! This is my bestie, all of you can go find your own.” Jisung pouted, but you could see how his eyes softened as his eight new best friends embraced you and accepted you as a part of their little family.

````

“Woojin, who has been with Stray Kids as a member until this time, has left the group due to personal circumstances and terminated his exclusive contract.”

You couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes as you read the headline. You had just had lunch with all of the boys a few weeks prior and everything seemed fine, they were excited for their blossoming career together. Not one of them, not even Jisung, had let on to anything. 

You felt you had at least a bit of a reason to feel hurt, they were your closest friends and you had to learn one was splitting from the group through a gossip site. Before you could think, you were outside the boys dorm, hand raised to knock, when voices stopped you when you heard your name, making a mental note to tell the boys to shut their windows.

“I just don’t understand why we didn’t tell Y/n.” Jisung sounded defeated.

“It’s not that we didn’t want to, Hannie, it’s just that the least outsiders that know the truth, the better.” “Y/n isn’t an outsider! They’re my best friend, they wouldn’t say anything to anyone.”

“We just, we can’t guarantee that. I love them, they’re a wonderful friend, but they’re not a part of this world Han. They wouldn’t understand and we can’t risk it. The next few months are going to be hard enough on Stay, nine or none is dead and we’re tasked with moving along like it’s nothing, the last thing we need right now is anything getting misconstrued.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened in. You could understand where Chan was coming from, but it still hurt hearing he couldn’t bring himself to trust you.

You wiped your eyes and finally knocked, not wanting to just vanish. They were still your friends.

“Hey, you guys seriously need to remember to shut your windows, I could hear Changbin from the driveway.” You laughed as you let yourself in, hugging Chan as you passed him before joining Jisung on the couch. It wasn’t long before other members started filing into the living room, presumably to see you, but you suspected it was more due to the safety and assurance that Chan and Jisung were done with their conversation as long as you were present.

“I heard the news by the way, I’m sorry this is happening. But hey! Maybe some good news can lighten the room.” You took a deep breath, nervous knowing your news would absolutely not help anything. “I got a huge promotion at work.” You grinned, fiddling with your hands, which Jisung and Chan both picked up on immediately.

You hadn’t mentioned being up for promotion, mostly because you weren’t even positive you’d get it, let alone accept it, but with a world tour on the horizon for the boys, and now the addition of being reminded you weren’t anything more than a normal level friend, you figured why not, what would be keeping you in Seoul anyway?

Congratulations and excitement filled the room, you smiled, thanking everyone for being happy for you, but your smile faded when Jisung’s hands covered yours, stopping your nervous fidgeting. He refused to meet your eyes.

“What’s the bad news?” He asked softly, eyes glued to where his hands were holding yours.

The excitement in the room felt as if it was sucked out by a vacuum, you tried to smile, already shaking your head to say there wasn’t any, but it died on your throat when Jisung’s eyes finally met yours, his brown eyes shining as he looked at you. “Don’t lie to me, please.” He whispered.

You slouched in defeat. “It was meant to be exciting news to cheer everyone up, Sungie. I mean, it’s not necessarily bad news, per se, it could be a really great thing even, you know?”

Jisung cut off your rambling by squeezing your hand. Giving you a look that said ‘get on with it.’

“The promotion is to an American branch.”

````

Jisung had somehow convinced his management to give him enough time off to help you move, no matter how much you insisted he didn’t need to. 

You had been busy cleaning out your closet, packing what to keep and piling up things you didn’t, figuring you could donate them, with your music blasting, none the wiser to the eight boys standing in your doorway. 

“Do they always keep the music this loud?”

The shouted question startled you. You whipped around in shock before rushing to lower the volume to greet your friends.

“Yes. Yes they do.” Jisung grinned teasingly as he pulled you into a hug. “I brought some extra hands, hope you don’t mind.” He said before kissing the top of your head and releasing you, whistling as he looked at the walls, still covered in pictures of the both of you, and some with the rest of the guys.

Seungmin was pointing out ridiculous pictures of Jisung to Jeongin and Minho laughed as he noticed a baby picture of the younger member. 

“Hyung, maybe we should ask Y/n for young pictures of Han instead of him or his family.”

Jisung groaned at that and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I mean, there’s a lot of pictures here, so if you see any you’d like to keep, go for it. Most of them will likely just stay in a memory box while I’m overseas anyways.”

The look of utter betrayal Jisung shot you just made you laugh harder as you patted his shoulder and put all the boys to work.

````

“Y/N! STRAY KIDS RELEASED A NEW ALBUM!”

It had been a year since you moved to America, and a year with your new roomies, whom you loved dearly. Throughout that year, the Kids had been garnering more and more popularity. 

You learned Eve and Nat, twins that were complete opposites in almost every way, had watched the entire Elimination Show as it was airing and Nat actually cried in relief when it was announced they’d debut as nine; Noel, a blunt and chaotic content creator, was a bit picky and admittedly didn’t like all of their music, but she loved them as people and would flood the house group chat with reels and tiktoks, her bias is Chan; and it took a little while for Lia, a tiny italian, to get in to them, but Eve was adamant that all roomies had to be Stays and when the twins had K-pop blasting through the house pretty much non-stop, it’s hard not to get pulled in.

You still kept in contact with the boys to some extent, it wasn’t as drop out of touch as the first year was, but you could tell the distance was growing again. When the day came that you no longer contacted one another, you wouldn’t be surprised. You brought yourself to look at it as you were thankful for the extra time you were given, you’d assume most idols lose contact with people of their past life fairly quickly.

You had never told your roommates about your connection to the band, not because you didn’t trust them and adore them but because it felt too risky. They could try to use you to get to the boys, or just flat out tell you to take your delulu meds. It hurt, thinking your closest friends might abandon you because of that kind of knowledge, it helped you understand Chan a little more with the Woojin situation. 

Your door burst open, any semblance of privacy pretty well gone when it came to Eve’s excitement.

“Did you hear me?? A new album! They take such good care of us!” She fake cried dramatically as she sprawled out on your bed. 

Eve was followed shortly by Lia, holding a cup of coffee with six tally marks drawn on it, indicating it was her sixth cup of the day; and Noel carrying a camera, likely having filmed the entire invasion.

“Yes I heard, I think the whole neighborhood did.” You laughed, playing with the girls hair. “Are you going to play this new album or just continue to shout about it?”

Eve groaned. “We have to wait until stupid Nat gets home, who even made the stupid rule about new album drops having to be group listening parties anyways?” She grumbled as you and your other roommates tried to hold back your laughter.

“You did, babe.” Lia giggled, sipping her coffee and joining the two of you on your bed.

Life with them often meant no privacy, the amount of times all five of you have ended up sleeping in one bed for the night was crazy, seeing as you all have your own rooms. There were a lot of blurred lines within your house, but you loved it and wouldn’t change it for almost anything.

“So who is this in all your pictures anyways? I don’t think I’ve ever asked before.” Noel mumbled as she walked around your room, camera in hand.

“I’ll tell you if you don’t use that footage you’re getting.” You joked.

“Deal!” Lia agreed on her behalf, setting her mug down and wrestling the camera from Noel to shut off the recording.

“Tell us. We’ve all been dying to know. You never talk about your past.”

You hesitated for only a moment before relaxing into your pillows.

“His name is Jisung, in all the photos. He’s my best friend, we grew up together but we don’t talk all that much anymore. His career distanced him, and mine obviously didn’t help that. It’s simple as that. We talk maybe once every few months now.”

“Are you in love with your Jisung?” Eve asked, blue eyes staring up at you with a childlike twinkle.

“Yeah, I am.” 

The girls giggled and you hid your face in your pillow to avoid the teasing until Nat walked in, asking what was going on, and immediately getting updated. He joined in on the teasing, which thankfully only lasted until Eve remembered Stray Kids’ new album NOEASY.

````

“I swear, you being besties with a boy named Jisung gives you insane luck or something, how  are you always pulling Han? Honestly at this point I think you have just as many Han Jisung photo cards on your walls as you do pictures of your Jisung. You’re so lucky your bias is so easy for you to get. Five target exclusive albums and not ONE Felix photocard. Like, don’t get me wrong, I am perfectly content with my Changbin, Innie, and Seungmin cards, but how did not a single one of us pull a Lixie?!” Eve banged her head against the wall as she rambled.

Nat rolled his eyes at her and immediately got smacked by the girl tucked under his arm.

“Ow! What the hell Lia, I didn���t say anything.”

“Don’t be rolling your eyes at my baby girl.” Lia said threateningly.

“For the last time, you’re dating me, not my sister, please stop calling her your baby girl.”

“Oh please, brother. I could steal your girl anytime I want and we all know it.” Eve giggled, finally snapping out of her rambling state to tease her brother. Lia blew her a kiss, sending her a wink.

“We can steal girlfriends another time, right now we’re going to be late for dinner, and we all know how James can get about his dinners.” Noel rolled her eyes at the trio as she put her camera away, having filmed everyone opening their albums. She has so much content of Lia and Eve flirting with each other that a good amount of her viewers have started theorizing that Nat is Lia’s beard.

James is the twins' father. After the twins had moved out he had insisted they come home once a week for a family dinner, the invite was quickly extended to the rest of the household as James seemed to systematically adopt everyone. You had never complained because it was a day off from feeding the household and because James was actually an amazing cook. 

```

“We’re going. I don’t care if I have to throw you all into my car forcefully, we are going to this concert.” Lia stated as the roommates were gathered in the living room looking at the tour dates announcement. “I don’t care if I have to drive the whole nine hours by myself, I am not missing this concert.”

Stray Kids were playing only a few states away and everyone but you had missed them the last time they’d been so close due to having already had tickets to something that same weekend. The only reason you hadn’t missed it was because you’d been in the city of the concert for business and delayed your flight a day to see them. You’d felt bad for seeing them without your roommates and best friends of three years, but you would have felt more bad breaking a promise to your best friend of much, much longer.

“And you!” Lia turned her eyes on you, pinning you with a scolding motherly glare. “No running off and seeing them by yourself again! We’re all going to see our boys and that is final.”

You weren’t about to argue with her, and no one else seemed to want to either, so everyone set reminders for the day tickets would go on sale and started plotting outfits for the concert.

```

The energy in the crowd was indescribable, the excitement all around you made the hairs on your arms stand up. You could feel nerves bubbling up in your stomach, yes you’d seen the boys plenty of times since you all lost touch, but you’d always actively avoided any seat that could potentially be seen from stage, but the tickets went on sale whilst you were in a crucial meeting and Lia, being the groups sugar momma, bought only the best she could get her hands on, landed you about three rows from front and center.

An excited hush fell over the crowd as the lights dimmed, everyone pressing forward just a little to try and get that much closer to the people coming up on the stage, but you just wanted to turn tail and run.

Nat grabbed your hand, squeezing it as if he could sense your nerves. It wouldn’t surprise you, of all your roommates, Nathaniel had always been the one to pick up on peoples emotions the easiest and he had always had a keen sense of awareness to things he shouldn’t be aware of.

The lights burst with the opening chords of the first song of the evening and an odd mixture of pride and nausea hits you as screams drown everything out and the boys finally come into proper view.

“Deep breaths honey. You’re okay.” Nat’s comforting voice whispers into your ear, his hands squeezing a little tighter, grounding you. “Just have fun, don’t worry about him.” 

Whipping your head to look at him, you see a knowing glint in his eyes and as he nods his head back towards the stage, you realized he’d pieced it together.

How does he know? Do they all know?

He smiles once more, squeezing again, before looking away and releasing you entirely, joining the throngs of people screaming and enjoying the show. You look back towards the stage, noting how much each of your old friends have changed over the years. 

You let your nerves slowly slip away as you let yourself enjoy the promise you’ve always upheld and support your friend by screaming along and dancing with the rest of the crowd.

```

Your anxieties of earlier had been completely forgotten by the time the halfway point hit. As the lights come up to allow people a small intermission to use the bathroom or get some water, you turned to your roommates, joining in the excited rambles of all they’ve witnessed so far, adding in your notes as well, stealing glances at the timer in the middle of the stadium periodically. But as you make eye contact with a pair of curious brown eyes peeking from backstage, you feel your stomach drop. Even from the distance you’re at, you can see the recognition flash in those big eyes as they widen before disappearing entirely behind the curtain. 

Just as you’re about to turn and make a hasty exit, those curious eyes return with another pair. 

Felix and Jeongin seem to freeze you in place. You watch as Jeongin’s eyes light up with familiarity, his hand quickly coming up to shoot you a small wave, you wave back, not even thinking, and his smile widens, eyes squinting, as he seems to bounce in place to contain his happiness. It melts your heart to see, realizing you truly have missed all of them, not just Jisung.

They both wave again before disappearing just as fast as they’d appeared. “Okay, what was that all about?” Lia whispers, her small hand gently holding your elbow to get your attention.

“I’m not entirely sure.” And it’s not a complete lie.

“Your Jisung is Han Jisung, isn’t it.” It’s not a question, not really, and you have no energy to try and hide it anymore. “Are you friends with all of them?”

“Was. I’m not sure I can claim being a friend to any of them anymore.”

“Well I would say you can because Lee fucking Felix and g’damn I.N. just waved at you.” 

“You don’t know it was at me.”

“Yes I do, and you do too. Don’t bullshit right now.

“It doesn’t even matter because they’ll finish this show, do the one tomorrow, and they’ll be gone and nothing will be different.”

Lia gave you a look that screamed she thought you were insane but before you could tell her that it’s just how it is, the lights dimmed again. The stadium hushed quickly, all noticing the timer wasn’t quite finished yet, then it stopped all together and a spotlight came on over a nervous looking Han Jisung, front and center, the other kids not too far behind him. 

He wasn’t facing you, but his eyes were scanning and he was turning slowly, while trying to look normal.

“This wasn’t exactly scheduled, and I’m sorry about that, but I just talked it over with the others and with the band and we’re going to perform There for all of you tonight. This song is, well it’s really important to me.”

With that, the opening chords start playing and Han's beautiful voice fills the hushed room.

Oh, I think of you, I only fall for you

Feels like a never-ending waterfall

Tears spring to your eyes. Ever since they’d released this song, you’d felt as if it was written for you. Your logical mind screamed it likely wasn’t, that it wouldn’t make sense for it to be. You’d had no contact with them for over three years, so why now? But even with those thoughts, you couldn’t help but remember nights spent with your best friend in the whole world, evenings passed by whilst stargazing despite the horrendous amount of light pollution and lack of visibility. Everything about the song when it was released made you think of the time before all of this, when you’d always had Han Jisung by your side. 

You make eye contact with Bang Chan as he follows Han’s vocals to fill his own part, he smiles, his dimples on full blast, and you know it’s his way of acknowledging you.

As the song passes, slowly the rest of the members seem to locate you, waving subtly, putting hearts up, ways to say hi without alerting the thousands of fans around you. Everyone sees you, except for Jisung, who either can’t locate you or is actively avoiding your eyes. Your heart drops at the thought. 

Did you really have it wrong? You had assumed it was a long shot that There was written for you, but hearing them perform it live and seeing them all track you down brought hope that maybe it wasn’t just wishful thinking, all except the one you want to look at you the most.

Your heart sank further and further as the song came to a close, Han never having looked your way.

I know that it'll never stop

Oh, I'm still right there.

You watch Chan grab Jisung and pull him off stage as the countdown starts back up, and you’re pretty sure everyone can see the slump in his shoulders as his leader drags him away.

“Get out of your head honey. Just try to enjoy the show.” Nat rubs your back in comforting circles until Eve whips around, her grin too bright to ignore.

“This is the best night ever!” And of course your sunshine friend is oblivious to your inner turmoil. All you can do is smile back and agree.

You take deep breaths, you let your friends and the adoring fans around you ground you, and you decide to just enjoy this band that you’ve been a fan of for years instead of stressing about the friendship you’d already assumed was dead.

```

You could feel yourself letting loose, dancing to the music, singing at the top of your lungs, just enjoying being in the crowd. It was easy to be happy in a room with all your favorite people. 

Throughout the night all the boys would check up on you, your area of the crowd easily became a favorite to interact with, but Han still hadn’t looked at you. Trying not to let it affect you, you made a heart with Lee Know and then broke it, watching in delight as his brows raise in shock and he starts laughing. His laughter draws the others' attention and they all seem to light up at the sight of happy Lee Know. 

Han make’s his way over to Minho, throwing an arm over his shoulder and preparing to do his rap when Minho whispers something to him and nods in your direction. Everything seems to fade away as Jisungs eyes finally meet yours, you can vaguely hear the instrumental for his part of the song but he’s not rapping, he just seems frozen as he stares at you.

Raising your hand, you give him a small wave, his hand following the motion and copying which makes you smile. Minho must pinch him because his body jolts and he shoots his friend an incredulous look, and then as if remembering where he is and what he’s supposed to be doing, he blushes and follows Lee Know to the rest of the members to get into choreo formation for the next song, but not without shooting you one more smile.

Sound comes rushing back in, and suddenly the air feels lighter, you hear Lia squealing as she bounces up and down next to you, holding your arm, and you can feel Nat’s arm around you. 

Han’s eyes can’t seem to stay off of you after that, you catch him looking at you more often than not. You feel giddy, laughter bubbling in you as he stumbles some choreography while trying to keep his eyes on you. 

The rest of the concert flies by way too fast, you don’t want the night to end, you don’t want to go back to your hotel and let this moment go past you. You don’t want Han Jisung to stop looking at you again. 

All the longing for your best friend, all the time you spent pretending you were alright with the way things turned out because he was living his dream and he was happy, all those years loving someone unattainable, drowns you as the boys leave the stage for the last time that night. The weight of realization weighs on you as the lights come up and the stadium starts clearing out, and just when you were ready to grab your friends and elbow your way to out of the stadium, putting the whole night behind you and accepting the end of a friendship officially, a guard tracked you down, asking for you by your Korean name, and asking you to follow him.

Confusion, and a bit of hope, floods you as you look to your friends, who just shrug, just as confused by the request but following you and the guard, after Noel and Lia argue that security or not their friend isn’t going anywhere without the rest of them because that wouldn’t be safe. You’re all brought backstage and left in a room with several couches and a table full of snacks. 

“So, what the heck is going on?” Eve finally asks, breaking the confused silence.

“Y/n’s boyfriend got us V.I.P access, apparently.” Nat responds.

“BOYFRIEND?!”

You smack Nat’s arm, causing him to laugh. “No babe, I don’t have a boyfriend, I’m just as confused as you are.”

Before much else could be said, a loud squeal is heard just before you're lifted off the ground and spun around. 

“Y/n/n!!!” Felix shouts, setting you down and pulling you back in for a soul crushing hug. “I’ve missed you so much, we have so much catching up to do!” He looks around, likely looking for the rest of his members but noticing your friends. “Oh. Hello there!” He smiles. “I’m Lee Felix, nice to meet you all!”

“Let them breathe Lix,” Seungmin rolls his eyes, pulling you from Felix’s grasp just to drag you into a hug of his own. “But he’s right, there is a lot of catching up to do.” He mumbles before releasing you and passing you off to the next person.

You catch a glimpse of your roommates, all of whom look absolutely dumbfounded. Even Nat and Lia, who seemed to have known about Jisung, seemed absolutely bewildered by these events.

You’re passed from member to member and something about it is so nostalgic. Being hugged by these sweaty, energy high, happy boys made you feel completely at peace. 

By the time you’re finally completely released, you notice your boys introducing themselves to your slightly starstruck friends. You also notice everyone is in the room but Han and Chan.

Minho, the ever attentive one, saddles himself next to you, watching your friends mingle. 

“Sungie is, well, he’s having a panic attack, I won’t lie to you, and Chan’s helping him. Don’t worry, he’s not avoiding you.” You flash him a grateful smile.

You watch as Eve and Felix get on like an absolute house fire, both practically bouncing in excitement as they chat about goodness knows what. Nat, Lia, Changbin, and Hyunjin watch in amusement, providing commentary now and again, while you catch up with Minho, Innie, and Seungmin.

It’s not too long before Chan finally enters the room, taking no time at all to scoop you into his arms. “God we’ve missed you, Y/n/n.” He whispers, his face pressed into your neck.

“I’ve missed all of you too. So much. And I am so, so proud of you all.”

Chan pulls back, giving you a tired smile before turning you to the door. “He’s too nervous to come in here, so you might want to go to him.” His smile is genuine, and he squeezes your shoulder once before releasing you entirely and gently pushing you toward the door.

Outside of the room, Jisung is pacing and mumbling to himself, he doesn’t even seem to notice another presence with him.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s just your best friend. Your best friend in the whole world that you’ve been out of touch with for years. You’ll be okay. It’s not like they wouldn’t want to see you.” Han freezes, eyes still locked on the ground. “Oh my god, what if they don’t want to see me.”

“Han Jisung, would you  stop rambling under your breath and hug me already?”

His head whips around, eyes wide, and for a minute all he does is stare at you in shock, and then he rushes towards you, pulling you into a hug so tight it’s as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“I missed you so much.” He whispers, his voice watery.

You hug him back with just as much strength, clinging to him and willing your tears back.

“Careful, it almost sounds like you’re in love with me or something.” You try to joke, your voice just as unsteady as his.

That seems to trigger something in him because he pulls back and stares at you for a really long moment. Just taking in your features. “And what if I am?” He whispers. Your breath catches in your throat, his eyes are watery but genuine.

Before you can say anything, he starts fumbling for his pocket before pulling out a small black box. He takes a deep breath before sinking down onto one knee, your eyes widening in shock.

“Because I am, ya know? I always have been. You’ve always been my ending, Y/n/n. And I had promised you once that you’d be stuck with me for the rest of your miserable life, and that I’d put a ring on it if it meant never losing you. Well, then I did lose you, and now that you’re here, I don’t intend on ever letting you slip away again. So, marry me, and let me spend the rest of my life by your side, because I joke about your miserable life a lot, but I know for a fact how miserable life is without you and I don’t want it.”

You can feel the tears running down your face as you drop to your knees in front of him, nodding as you grab his face and pull him in for a kiss.

His lips are salty, likely from your shared tears, and they’re a little chapped, but they meet yours just as eagerly and you know it’s real, and that this is how it always should have been.

You both pull apart for air, he leans his forehead against yours as he grabs your hand to slide the ring into place and you hear whooping and hollering not to far, both of you looking up to see not only the kids, but your roommates all having likely witnessed the whole thing.

Jisung blushes and you grin, tears still flowing as you wrap your arm around your best friend in the whole wide world and show your ring off to Eve and Lia who rushed in to see it immediately.

“I love you.” Jisung whispers as he helps you stand.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, leaning further into him and never wanting to leave his side ever again.

“Sweetie, you have got some major explaining to do.” Eve cuts in, joining the hug and giving you a pointed but teasing glare.

a/n : thank you so much for taking the time to read my story!! if you enjoyed it considering reblogging or leaving a comment with your thoughts, I love to read them🫶

main taglist: nothing yet :)

Han’s POV

[qoldenskies]

Think the biggest thing about the family meeting for me is that it's literally just mean. They sit there berating Donnie until he cries. There's a supposed reason for the meeting, but Raph literally says that they're moving on to "serious talk" when they start discussing his "behavior." That entire segment of them tearing him down is literally just for their enjoyment. It's not vindictive in the way their physical abuse of him is, not as calculated as the closet situation. It's literally them just being flat out fucking mean because they're having fun doing it.

The fact that they especially poke at his autism is devastating. It's painful by itself (one of the biggest things people tend to praise about Rise when it comes to ND rep is that the brothers have literally never treated him as a burden because of who he is), but you've mentioned before that Donnie is really the one who suffers from the ND "my identity belongs to the people" experience. He uses his technology to make up for what he sees as deficits. But he's been told that not only does his "useless junk" not make up for his existence, but they absolutely hate those traits as much as he'd feared. I've always kind of thought that this was an underlying fear he never mentioned in Witch Town, mostly because it feels like a very ND struggle: it wasn't just the thought of being replaced by mystic that scared him, but the thought that all his tech, all his effort, had become not enough to make up for his living. Except in CC he can think back to what April said and think "You were wrong. You were wrong and I'm sorry for everything."

the fact that their words prey on a pre-existing insecurity is what makes it so HARD to undo.... like YES they can convince donnie that they DO love him, and that he didn't deserve to be lied to and hit and gaslit and abused, but the problem is that donnie heard all of these attacks on his character, and his behavior, and his sense of self was so fragile that even with the knowledge of the curse in mind, he continues to BELIEVE what they said is true. there are some moments where he intentionally holds himself back later down the line in CL, but after the final attack especially its so noticeable. he's so much less verbose. he speaks like he's embarrassed to be speaking. they've noted that so much of his cute little verbal quirks are gone and that he doesn't sound like himself.

it's because he's completely embarrassed with himself and what he used to be. he doesn't miss how things were, his grief is long gone; he feels ashamed for living in that illusion that he was in any way accepted, thinking he'd always just been embarrassing himself and his family without knowing it. his confidence was so fragile that it really only took something like the family meeting to DESTROY it; but to be fair, they wouldn't have gotten away with it day one because he is on the default defensive, but the anger had already been squashed completely and he was on to bargaining at that point.

and they knewwww godddd they knew. they all knew!

they watched themselves around him!! they always made sure not to go too far when they made fun of him!!! they understood how quick he was to disappear back into himself when he felt rejected and they worked around it because they loved him!!! they KNEW!!!!!

and the curse makes them take advantage of the fact that they knew!! what's so horrifying about the family meeting is that they KNEW how donnie was going to respond, they KNEW it would break him, and they KNEW they were going to get away with it, and they did it anyway because they thought it was funny.

and i dont even think they planned it out, especially apparent by the way raph ended up shutting it down. leo jumped on the opportunity and they just joined in the moment they got the chance to like sharks smelling blood in the water. it meant nothing to them, it wasn't an intentional, planned choice to get revenge or question his sense of reality. honestly, it was probably just them voicing all the shit they said behind his back (some to april.... yikes), and that's one of the things leo was scared about donnie SEEING because it was probably way more vicious. they had zero filter when they talked ABOUT him, because even through the curse there would still be the natural instinct to protect his feelings.

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober: Day 27

muzzled | "I have no mouth and I must scream" / Afternoon Stroll

Yuu had their hands shoved into their pockets as they tried to enjoy the scenery.

As far as times they could have gone walking, this trail near their house wasn't the worst choice, but it could have either been better-stocked or less overgrown.

The nice, afternoon stroll was a routine for Yuu at this point, but the cold air made it a far less comfortable experience nowadays.

They had to really watch to make sure their legs didn't get caught up in all of the randomness of the forest, and they were doing just that when they heard a cry.

It... almost sounded like a baby, but Yuu stood still and heard for another cry before they moved.

The cry could have been some sort of imitation ghost, mimicking the cry of a child to lure Yuu to their death, but they stumbled across a little metal cage and ruled out that possibility.

It seemed to be a small lizard scurrying around a little metal wire cage in panic, the fear evident in the frenetic, jerky movements the salamander made.

"Oh no," said Yuu, crouching down to see if there was something they could do. They supposed it wasn't technically poaching, since reptiles weren't regulated under any hunting laws.

Digging around in their bag, Yuu found some scissors.

Possibly a good idea, but only until later. Cutting through metal with scissors would be hard, and it was better to see if they'd thought to bring a bolt cutter or something before they made a fool of themselves.

The lizard scurried wildly, and Yuu finally wrapped their hands around the smaller bolt cutter they usually kept in their field bag.

"It'll be ok, little guy," mumbled Yuu, hoping the vibrations in their voice would help the lizard calm down. No one deserved to be kept in a cage like this, and if it was almost the end of hunting season, there had to be more.

Still, Yuu shook off the worry and started attacking the bars with a fierce gusto until they finally got into a good groove, making more and more progress with each pass of their mini tool.

"Shhh, c'mon," said Yuu, allowing the mouse to feel their nearly-nonexistent body heat through the floor of the grass bottle. "if you keep moving like that, I won't get a clear shot.

The little lizard chirped and whistled unhappily, and Yuu assured him they were working as hard they could.

Finally, Yuu was able to break off some of the cage, and the lizard seemed to be a bit calmer as Yuu grabbed a dead man's shoes.

The lizard scurried out,, chirping quite happily to Yuu trapped the salamander in their hands.

"Shhh, shhh," Yuu was trying to calm down the little salamander, who seemed to have gotten a little better. He did frantic loops chasing his tail on one of Yuu's porches.

"It's alright," they said in a soothing voice, or at least they hoped. "You can freak out, but eventually I'm gonna take you back to my house."

The lizard didn't stop his freaking out, but Yuu said, "You'll be nice and warm, and I'll give you all the food you want."

With a flourish, Yuu gave the lizard a quick kiss. Probably not the best idea, because Yuu didn't know where the lizard had been, but just then, light began showing through the cracks of the reptile.

The lizard began to float, and Yuu ducked their head, trying to protect themselves. .Suddenly, it all burst open in a cacophony of light and sound, before the reptile morphed into a man.

This man was tall, long and slender with a fancy set of clothes complete with embroidery, and as his eyes focused, he looked at Yuu.

"Hello," he said in a low timbre.

"Uhhh... hello?" stammered Yuu, nervous of what this all meant

"You saved he," he said, rising from the forest floor to eliminate the ability to make effective eye contact.

"You saved me," he breathed, looking down at his clothes and limbs in amazement. "Thank you."

He them scooped up Yuu and they yelped before the salamander spoke up.

"I do not mean to harm you, I just wish to give you my thanks."

"U-uh, ok?" said Yuu, still short-circuiting.

"And to take you home, perhaps for a meal... yes, a meal would do," he said, almost whispering the words.

"Thank you," said Yuu, barely able to put any voice behind their words.

"Of course. I am at your service," he said, bowing his head.

"Um, alright? I can't think of anything that I need," said Yuu.

"That is alright," he responded. "But, do you have a home? Perhaps we can have soup for lunch.

Next to Yuu, a stomach growled.

"Yes," mused the man. "Perhaps we'll have soup."

"What's your name?" said Yuu, sounding squeaky.

The man gazed down at them lovingly.

"I am Malleus," he said simply. "Now, could you tell me what direction your house is?"

Yuu chuckled. "Sure. Down there, you'll take a right in a bit, but I have a few questions before that."

[allwormdiet]

Shell 4.1

As much as I wish Taylor could ride this high forever, unfortunately looks like it's back to school

Taylor. Honey. Dearheart. You keep being really complimentary about your bullies' physical looks, and this does not in any way undermine the hurt they've done to you or your resentment thereof, but it does muddy the waters a little bit as to whether resentment is the only thing you're feeling

The back-and-forth actually feels so refreshing compared to every previous interaction with the bullies, like. My god. Did Taylor just have to rob a bank to get the confidence she needs to not worry about these fuckers? I never thought that John Dillinger therapy would take off but maybe there's a future in that

Better the devil in plain sight than the devil you can't see at all.

John Dillinger therapy! This is what I'm talking about! Let's go Taylor, show that inner strength! Shed the burden!

I mean hell, maybe, or maybe this is an upturn where she finally gets sure enough in herself to get these jerks off her back forever. We'll see how it plays out, right?

The idle speculation on Mr. Quinlan is a little wild but well in keeping with my own experiences. Sometimes teachers just passively generate rumors around them.

This one stupid bit about John Dillinger therapy keeps paying off, this is great, real joke investment opportunity

Honestly Taylor I think you can feel bad about it while also living with it, I'm not gonna pretend to be some expert on morality or philosophy or whatever but I feel like you're allowed a certain number of felonies after enough suffering in your life

Technically not a career boost for the Undersiders, at least not as far as public renown, but making your enemies look like clowns is just as good if not better. Like yeah, those tools on the other side are getting their pay docked because of that bigass hole in the roof of the bank, and you're way richer from the same event

Expanding our understanding of the city a bit more, and honestly this sounds dope as fuck. I'd love to visit every once in a while and just soak in the culture, although not if it meant living in Brockton Bay. That seems. Bad.

Ugh, these kids

Honestly I'm not quite this hardcore but damn if it isn't a mood. I've yet to see proof of Rachel being wrong

Yeah I know she had her dogs attack Taylor, Taylor's an aspiring snitch, it's okay to maul a snitch

I think I knew this part already but honestly I'm more excited to have Rachel lore than anything

I wonder how much leniency can be provided for crimes that happen in the immediate aftermath or because of a trigger event. Maybe not a ton, or maybe enough to get away with murder. I'd be curious to learn more about that, if it ever comes up.

And uhh, yeah, that'd fucking get you dead bodies alright. Wonder if that's why she's so hardcore about the training, making sure that never happens again. Entirely for the dogs' benefit, or only mostly and then there's some part of her that thrives with that kind of control?

Alec you cheeky little shit, you're endearing yourself to me

Honestly Taylor, just try and breathe easy for a little bit, I don't think you've been able to do that in over a year. Take your time, enjoy your walk on the wild side.

Maybe I'm biased but I love these two interacting on their own, so I'm fully in favor of this plan Lisa

Well I'm sure if Lisa ever killed anybody they deserved it, or if nothing else she arranged circumstances so that they ended up deserving it after some mild provocation

it's fiiiiiiiiine

Current Thoughts

This story has such good slice of life, I want more of it every time and every time I get cut off before I'm satisfied. Is that on purpose? If that's on purpose Wildbow might be a more sinister intelligence than I'd thought.

School segment was so blissfully short and Taylor managed to fight Emma to a standstill so this is a huge improvement over every other second she's spent at school

If Rachel ever kills anyone on purpose they deserved it, and if Rachel ever kills anyone on accident it's okay bc everyone makes mistakes

Honestly I'd be willing to accept any of these kids as having a good reason to render someone cadaverrific. Brian and Lisa have good heads on their shoulders and at this point I'm starting to suspect that the lazy gamer thing Alec has going on is like, at least partially a front for a deeper personality, and he's trying to be shallow on purpose, so idk what that means for him being a killer but I somehow doubt he's a fucking Hannibal Lecter type when we're not looking

...Actually come to think on it the only two members the Protectorate has info on is Grue and Bitch, right? Tattletale is an unknown and Regent has almost nothing about him. I'd suspect Grue to be the second killer but I'm not sure if that's a red herring.

Find out eventually, I guess.

...I might have another chapter in me before sacking out for the night. We'll see.

[strawberrycrushes]

Memories Of a Distant Time

A/N: Jean before she became the acting grandmaster should get written about more. That’s actually true for most characters and their pre-game appearance lives.

Hearty laughter fills the air and the entire tavern seems enthralled by Varka’s story, his natural charisma pulling everyone in.

You bring your drink to your lips as you listen in, occasionally interrupting to correct him on a few details. Spicing up the story regarding the expedition was a good way to hold in the crowd’s attention, you had to agree, but that being said you didn’t want it to be just plain incorrect either, and Varka’s tendency to do exactly that was increasing with every drink he had.

You shake your head. “That’s not what happened at all. Marianne sprained her ankle well before the abyss order attack. That’s why she wasn’t even there actually.” You corrected him again with a pointed look.

“No, no. I’m quite sure she was, that’s why we went back after all. To go get her?” Varka waved you off. You rolled your eyes “You do realise that makes you sound like a horrible boss for leaving her there in the first place, right? Whatever, at least it’s better than letting them know that the ACTUAL reason we went back was just because you left your mission report behind and didn’t want to rewrite it.” you smirked at him.

The crowd laughed as the both of you bickered over the details.

“Come on now Captain, don’t be such a bore. You’re making it sound like any other expedition.”

“It WAS just like any other expedition.” You pointed out, “At least it was supposed to be until the Abyss decided to pop in and say hi. Archons above that was a headache. You know what? At this point just let me tell the story why don’t you? I’m sure I could put a better spin on it, and on your incompetence, than you could.”

Varka put his hand over his heart and sighed over-dramatically “You truly wound me, Captain but you should cut me some slack. I mean, you said it yourself didn’t you? The abyss order attack was incredibly unexpected. I thought I handled it pretty well for how little experience we have in dealing with them.” Varka took another sip from his glass, “And besides Captain, your own feats of strength were quite flattering in my story. So that does beg the question I suppose… Are you only saying this because of a false sense of modesty, a heroic desire for a genuine re-telling—or just the need to ruin my story?”

“Well...if you actually have to wonder that then maybe you’re not as bright as you make yourself out to be.” You laughed along with the tavern as Varka prepared to bite back with a jab of his own. It was clear to anyone with two working eyes that the two of you got along really well.

Painfully so, Jean thought.

She sighed sulking off to some desolate corner of the tavern, feeling her stomach twist into ugly knots as familiar feelings of jealousy and defeat crept up inside her. Wolvendom was supposed to be her chance. She was supposed to walk up to you and start a conversation—You know, like any normal person would—Unfortunately for Jean, she found it very difficult to operate as normal where you were involved resulting in her barely even getting a sentence in let alone an actual conversation. She felt like an idiot, especially since you did try. You talked to her, and all Jean could give you was either a stiff nod or an awkward attempt at an answer. Neither of which made for good conversation starters as it turned out.

She buried her face into her hands and groaned. She probably looked like an idiot to you too. “Way to make a first impression Jean.” She grumbled to herself as she looked back up to see you and Varka still joking along with each other. Maybe it was the alcohol still in her system but she felt pathetic. Years of pining after you to no avail and every fault of her own, she felt like the love stories of her novels, no, the love stories anyone her age got to enjoy, were simply not meant for her. Like her mother was right.

“My my, doesn’t somebody look like poster child of loneliness. Let me guess, you couldn’t talk to your crush the entire expedition and now you’re feeling depressed. Am I correct?” She heard a suave voice snicker behind her and she didn’t need to look back to see who it was.

“Go away Kaeya,” she grumbled, “let me be depressed in peace.”

“As much as I’d love to do that as your friend, and the only person between us that actually knows how to communicate, I thought I should act on my duty to help you, say….basically get laid.” Kaeya gave her a mischievous grin and Jean looked at him cautiously. “Kaeya. What did you do?” She asked him, extremely concerned for her safety.

“Don’t even worry about it. Hey, here’s an idea, why don’t you go out and take a walk, hm? I’m sure some fresh air would make for the perfect backdrop to your miseries.” Kaeya dismissively said as he dragged Jean by her hand towards the balcony, not even giving her a chance to reply.

“H-hey wait a minute, what did you-!”

Slam

Kaeya shut the balcony door, locking it. “Kaeya? Kaeya!” She struggled futilely with the door handle “Open the damn door Kaeya or I swear to Barbatoes I’m telling Master Crepus about this.” Her threats were met with laughter. Not laughter from behind the door, no, but from-

She turned around with a flushed face to see you giggling into your hand. “C-captain?”

“Sorry sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your little…tangent?” You tease and if it was possible, Jean turned a shade redder.

“W-well. That was” Damn it Kaeya really?

“Miss Jean. Please, calm down. Kaeya told me you wanted to talk?”

DAMN IT KAEYA REALLY?

Jean gnawed at her lips. She was going to have to kill Kaeya later but first she needed to diffuse the situation at hand. There was no way she was anywhere NEAR prepared for a situation like this. "That.." She subtly gulped, "Well...you know how he can be like, I'm sure he just thought it was an amusing prank. Or something." She mumbled looking down at her feet as if they were the most interesting things in the world.

"Is that so?"

She nodded, "I have nothing I wish to say to you Captain. I assure you."

For some reason, a quiet descended on you two and Jean became nervous. Did you not believe her? Or maybe you did and are just annoyed that you’re locked out here with her for no reason now. Or-

"Jean?” You spoke out, sounding strangely downcast.

Jean looked up. You were leaning against the railing now, looking…dejected?

“Yes Captain?”

You open your mouth, close it again awkwardly, then try again. “Do you hate me?”

Jean's eyes widen. “I’m sorry?”

You look back at her. "Every time I try to talk to you, you avoid me. If try to make conversation, you’ll give me standoffish looks or ‘assure me’ that you have 'nothing you wish to say to me'.”

You frown and Jean winces. Did she really sound like that? Wait-HAS SHE BEEN SAYING THINGS LIKE THAT THE ENTIRE TIME?

“Yes.” You deadpan.

“Ah, did I-?”

“Yes you did say that out loud.” You give a slight smile and some humour returns to your voice. Something Jean is very thankful for.

“Jean.” You say, “I’m going to be honest, I really admire you. You’re such a hardworking person, more so than anyone I’ve ever met before. You’re honest too, and kind. You care so much for the people around you that you forget to care for yourself alongside. When I see you, it gives me the motivation to work hard too.” You pump your fist, seeming uncharacteristically shy. “I guess you could say that I’m where I am now because of you.”

Jean’s mouth gapes and you laugh. “Too much? It’s true though, I’m not sure you remember but we met once when we were kids? I was training—nothing formal, just by myself—you saw me and came over, said I was holding my stance incorrectly. You taught me that day, for no other reason but the fact that I looked like I needed help. I thought it was absurd, but I’ve admired you since then.” You smile.

"I-" She tries to open her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. How was she even supposed to reply to that!? She was sure her face was on fire with how hot it felt. Still, she had to try. She messed things up before, but that didn’t mean she could set things right. You were trying. She’d try too.

“I…admire you a lot too.” You looked at her with a mix of surprise and curiosity on your face. Jean gulped. “You’re someone I look up to a lot, and respect. You became a captain at such a young age, without any noble family backing you up, but it also made me think that perhaps you wouldn’t like me because I was already given an advantage at birth when you had to work so hard for it, if that makes sense?”

You frown. “Why would I hate you for something you couldn’t control? And you make it sound like you didn’t more than earn your place amongst the Knights. In fact, I honestly think you should be ranked higher, like a Captain, or maybe even a Grandmaster?”

“You’re flattering me.” Jean blushed, “There’s no way I deserve a title of such high esteem.”

“You do.” You say simply. “You’re just being humble.”

“I’m not.” Jean finds herself laughing. “I mean, I can barely even hold a conversation on your level.”

You raise your brow. “On my level?”

“Yes! Whenever you talk, the whole room becomes captivated. They laugh along with your jokes and hang on to every word you say.”

“You’re exaggerating.” It was your turn to blush.

“I’m not.” Jean smiles. “You’re just being humble.”

You snort. “Touché. But I’m being serious, I’m better a Knight than a conversationalist. I don’t think my personality is quite as suited for that.”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug. “I just bounce off Varka, he brings most of the charm.”

“I think you’re charming.”

You blink. “What?”

“You are.” Jean says firmly. “At least for me. Everything you say manages to bring a smile to my face. I like hearing you talk. So I think you’re quite charming.” She states simply.

You give her a strange look, and she grows nervous under your stare. Had she said something wrong again?

You smile. “You’re an interesting one Jean.” You kiss her on the cheek and Jean practically short-circuits, caught completely off guard. “I should go make sure Varka didn’t do anything too stupid while I was gone. See you later?.” You ask, Jean, who had completely short-circuited by the point, could only nod in response. “Good. I’ll be looking forward to it.” You chuckle and walk away, managing to open the door with no apparent difficulty.

Oh right. She was going to have to thank Kaeya later…

[teal-fiend]

An experienced prey helps a someone through their hunger by offering themselves up as a first meal, and guides the new pred through the experience (continuation of this post)

Content: prey pov, pred pov (alternating), digestion, implied fatal vore, pred has a panic attack 

“You’re really hungry, are you?”

A nodded

“It’s the kind of hunger that never goes away right? No matter what you do, you’re still hungry. You know what this means right?

You’re a predator, you have different requirements. Dietary”

A shook their head, “no, no I can’t. I’m not like that.”

“What do you mean you can't?”

“I’ve never done it before, and I don’t want to”

“Why am I here then? Because you need to. You’re desperate to end your hunger. You don’t see yourself as a predator, you don’t think you could ever do what they do, you probably think it’s immoral too, but soon you’ll understand why they do it.” B put their hand on A’s shoulder, “they do it because it works.” B stepped away again, gesturing with their hands to emphasise the next words “you want to stop being hungry then eat. It’s that simple.”

“But what about you?” A asked quietly

B laughed, “you’ll be a terrible pred, asking questions like that.”

“Yeah, sure - that’s the point.”

“You’ll see, predators - you always change your tune after you eat, once you realise it’s what you’re meant to do.

A shook their head, “Not me”

B rolled their eyes. Everyone says that

“ you are partially correct; this won’t go well if you resist. If you don’t ‘believe in yourself’ (even if that sounds cheesy), it’s going to be a lot harder for you. It might even turn into a bad experience for you, which is the opposite of what we want. So. I’m going to need you to make a decision. 

Right now, you have to say that you are going to eat me, and follow through with it

No backing out. (Unless you actually get nauseous or otherwise can’t digest me - you have to at least give it a solid go). 

Give yourself a chance. You’ve come this far, you’re making an effort to solve your problems. Now is the time to actually do the dirty work.

Do we have a deal?”

“Okay, I’ll try,” they muttered, “I don’t really have any other options at this point.”

B clasped their hands together, “that’s the spirit. Okay, this next part is probably the most difficult, but it gets easy once you get the hang of it. You’re just going to put your mouth over me, and do your best to swallow. It might feel a little weird or embarrassing but, well, it’s the only way.”

“Ah, Okay…” A babbled

It took them an uncomfortable amount of time to figure out from which direction they wanted to approach B, and how exactly they wanted to get B past their teeth

An image came up in B’s mind of a lizard they once had who would always miss the bugs they put in the cage. No hunting instincts. 

A would have no chance if they actually had do hunt for prey

Just once they thought A had a good grip, they spit B out again

“I don’t think I can do it,” they gasped

B sighed, “I didn’t want this to be my first choice, because I wanted you to learn how to do it on your own, but I think I can help. You won’t have to do much work, but you will have to relax.”

B didn’t know if A knew how to relax. They had been rigid the entire time, it wasn’t doing them any favours. 

In all their experience with preds, they had never seen one so incapable as A. B had just been in their mouth, and it hadn’t mattered at all. It was frustrating, but subconsciously it only made B more determined to make A into an active pred

B turned on the radio, maybe background noise would help, and they ushered A over to a wall, that B could use as leverage to push themselves down A’s throat. 

The attempt failed. B was wondering if maybe A wasn’t a pred after all. 

“How are you feeling right now,” B asked, out of breath

“Bad,” A admitted

You know what would feel good right now, a full stomach

“You have it in you, I’m sure of it,” B said, although they were starting to doubt. “Your body knows what to do, your head is just getting in the way.”

“I think too much, is that it?”

“Kind of, just - ok Okay, we are going to do some exercises to try to get you into the mindset. Focus on the sensations in your body - close your eyes. Try to put a mental spotlight on that area in your middle, where you feel hunger the most. Here - “ B took A’s hand and placed it on their stomach, “allow yourself to feel your hunger, and accept it, don’t try to shy away from the unpleasant sensation. You need to admit it to yourself. Are you hungry?” A, almost in a trance, nodded, “yes”

“Good, that’s step one. Now. You are hungry, desperately so, you can feel it. It’s strong, it hurts, it makes everything else in your head foggy. But lucky for you, you have food. Me. So” 

B sighed, “that’s the next part you have to believe. I am your food,” they gently rubbed A’s stomach, feeling it growl painfully beneath their hand. B liked to see predators when they were hungry, but usually they were more assertive, less pathetic. 

“I can be in your stomach in a matter of seconds if you want it, which deep down you do. Bring that part of you up, don’t resist your feelings, your desires, your hunger. Be honest with yourself”

“I’m going to open your mouth now, just let yourself feel good, don’t be ashamed, don’t be worried, you have nothing to worry about…” B slid their hands into A’s throat and pushed off of the wall, they reached as far down as they could until they felt A tensing,

“Relax, relax, relax,” B grumbled irritably, and miraculously their hands slid down even further, they pushed down as far as they could before A could second guess it, and once their head was through, they started to feel the throat constrict, but then ease - A was swallowing them. B felt another tight clench around them like they were suddenly caught in a vice, but then they were the one being pushed further, the squeezing was rapid, desperate, and a less than efficient, but A was gulping them down with all their might. B felt smug about being correct, a switch had been flicked once A had realised how good it felt to have such a big meal move down their throat all at once. B imagined it would be the best thing A had ever experienced. But that was nothing compared to what would happen next

—

A felt heavy, like they had eaten a boulder, and they felt stretched, painfully, they still felt sore, they still felt a bit shit, a bit tired. It wasn’t as rapturous as B and many others had led them on to expect. It was weird, it was definitely odd, but not much else

The swallowing felt good; they did feel something then. A rush, and it did feel good to have such a promise of a meal and the satisfaction it would bring… but it didn’t last long. There was prey in their stomach… and A didn’t like it all that much

“How do you feel?” B asked from their stomach

“I don’t feel much at all,” A said thoughtfully

“That’s what they all say,” B muttered. 

A sat down. It was funny, all of this, being a predator, they never thought they would do something like this, and furthermore, A never thought they would become like predators you hear about; hedonistic, driven by instincts, a slave to the monster that was inside them - that kind of stuff didn’t happen for A, but it would be interesting if it did. If their stomach felt so stretched and full, if that could bring them such satisfaction, the idea was a little scary. But surely not… unless

“I - “ A stuttered, “I think I’m starting to feel something,” they said shakily. 

“Yeah, your tummy is really having it’s go at me,”

“What do you mean?” A asked, worried

“You’re digesting me, buddy. Wait, you’re starting to feel it, aren’t you?”

“No,” A said, “no no no. oh god no.”

“Hold on, don’t freak out, it’s alright,”

“I’m…” A could feel a hot, almost burning sensation in their stomach, it groaned languidly

“It’s ok, remember what I said about relaxing - okay your heartbeat is going up but that’s normal for digestion, just don’t have a panic attack or anything.” B laughed dryly

A could feel their heart burning, their stomach felt like it was pressing on all of their other organs, depriving them of oxygen

“I, I think I’m dying,” A could hardly recognise their own voice by how it was shaking. They felt their chest actually ache in pain, real pain, clenching, like a heart attack, “I’m… I feel like I’m going to die.”

“Okay,” They felt B realign themselves in their stomach, “Okay, you’re definitely not dying, you can’t die from eating prey, you’re just freaking out because you’re not used to this. Have you had a panic attack before?”

“Panic attack? No,” this wasn’t a panic attack, it was a heart attack, and they were dying, A had never been more sure of anything

“Okay, look it up. You can’t die from it, you’re just getting used to the new sensations. I’ll admit, this isn’t an ideal outcome for your first meal, and I wouldn’t have pushed you if I knew you were this worried about it, but you couldn’t eat me on your own, so I doubt you’ll be able to get me out, so you’ll just have to strap in for the next few hours. How are you doing out there?”

It was hard to believe B since A’s body was saying the opposite. They still felt a huge pain in their chest, and it wasn’t going away. “I’m not doing good,”

“Do you feel pain? Try to redirect that energy to your stomach, your heartbeat, just focus on the heartbeat in your stomach instead, feel the sensations you have here,” B rubbed on the stomach walls, “you don’t feel empty anymore right? Must be a relieving feeling.”

B was right, A focused on the feeling of their stomach, it was good, they were really full, when they actually took a moment to reflect, they realised it. They really had never eaten so much at one time. 

A lay down on their side - they let the belly rest on the floor, feeling it gurgling against the carpet. They truly had never felt this was before, it was entirely different to how they expected it. They had eaten a lot before, of course, trying to curtail the hunger, but this sheer amount, it was such a shift in perspective of what they could physically experience. It was something entirely new, they felt like a child again, seeing things for the first time, they didn’t know they could feel this way. 

And when their heartbeat slowed and evened out, the sensations changed from anxiety into a deep blanket of pleasure that radiated from their core. They felt satiated, but even that word didn’t do justice. 

I know now,  A thought, I know what they mean now

I get it

[exoticalmonde]

The Evealia Guide Through Babel (event) - Part I

Wow, who would've ever thought that I have more enthusiasm to talk about the Babel event and that, which has to do with the Sarkaz race, than I do with literally anything else.

I have 0 excuses. So I shall provide none.

This is the personalized (read: for me) guide through the Babel event in Arknights, with a provided story explanation/synopsis and a run-down on the event characters/media.

Gorgeous medals by the way, there's something within me that screams and years for them. Maybe it's because I've been playing this game for two, running towards three years and I'm attached to the Sarkaz. I'm attached to Theresa and Babel and can't wait to see how this event could possibly change my opinion of Theresis and Manfred.

(Warning: The following post will contain spoilers for the event, as well as commentary on my experience. Thank you for reading.)

With all that said, I think I'm going to go through the characters first. We're happy to welcome four new Operators who would happily join Rhodes Island: Lutonada, Odda, Aroma and Ascalon.

Only one of them we already know about from the Main Theme Chapter 13; Only two of them will be relevant to the story.

So let's start with the one we won't be mentioning ever again - Lutonada.

A new 4-star juggernaut defender from Bolivar. You can see her unique in that she is the first 4-star character of this class. Alongside her are Mudrock, Penance and Vulcan. To be fair, it's a spicy- I meant, it's a pricy class, with most of the characters costing over 30DP to deploy; making it tricky to use early if you don't have at least two flag Vanguards and difficult to leave alone if they're not Mudrock.

Juggernauts are special also with their inability to be healed, making it detrimental for them to have their own type of healing in their kit. Lutonada heals when an enemy she is blocking dies. That makes her S2 the most important skill, because according to the numbers - it charges pretty fast and its mechanic is basically: >Pull enemy towards self via magnets >Block >???? >Heal Pretty easy to use and I, as a fan of Empowered Attacks, love her S1 because those sweet, sweet 230% damage on an attack for every 3 seconds on her M3 sound very nice.

Should you build her? Personally, the downside to her is that as a 4-star she has significantly less HP than Penance and Mudrock, but you can practically ignore the 200HP difference between her and Vulcan. The same can be said about their attack and defence (ALL of this at E2).

Dr. Eve will always support your simple, carnal desires above all else. You want her? Did you pull her? Then build her. To bypass the Juggernaut's inability to be healed, you can always snatch either a Perfumer, Angelina (E2 perk), Suzuran (S3), or Blemishine (S2) who all have passive healing on all allies under some conditions, or you can use a Bard supporter like Heidi, Skalter and Sora.

Her Module is kind of... Eh? For all the cost you throw, she recovers 20% HP when an enemy blocked by her dies. It does sound like a lot, but I'm not sure if it means exactly what I think it does. I wanted her but didn't get her. Hope the little ratscal joins my ship eventually.

NB: Forgot to mention - her push force is 0 for her S2 and so far it doesn't seem to change with Masteries. Keep that in mind.

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Next up we have Aroma, this is our new 5-star Blast Caster - on the same road as Corroserum and Ifrit.

The difference between her utility and Corroserum's (I won't talk about Ifrit, because she is practically the best, most aggressive Blast Caster you can find) is within the effects of their abilities. Numbers aren't really that important here, because they're both 5-stars.

What is important to note is that while Corroserum's S1 is practically unwanted because of his 10s stun duration, his S2 is helpful because it silences the enemies for 5 seconds max at M3.

Meanwhile, Aroma deals extra ARTS damage on her S1 + she deals additional damage to AERIAL targets. It's pretty helpful but practically feels useless, because rare are the times we have aerial targets line up perfectly and for long enough to fit inside her range. Unless she is used to taking down aerial targets when they float.

Her S2 just does additional damage to enemies who have been Levitated - props to her talent. The other people who levitate so far are Chongyue, Irene, Ho'olheyak, Quanipalaat and Odda.

I... am... Not sure if her Module expands her range like the other Blast Casters'? But it sounds like it should, it would be unfair otherwise. I'm leaving it for you to decide if you want this, but it's surprisingly easy to build material-wise.

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Which brings us to our second before last Operator, the free character in the Event whom you can get with just 40% of all the currency you'll be getting. It's a long story.

First in many things, Odda is an unseen before Earthshaker Guard. That role is kind of like Dreadnought guards, but they can block two enemies from the get-go and they do an AOE attack each basic attack.

Him, I actually got all the tickets to and dropped Ash to build. He has an empowered attack for his S1 which ends up at a chargetime of whooping 2 seconds!!! It extends the splash area as well with .5 tiles, so... He does damage of 1.5 tiles additionally.

Unlike Lutonada, Odda's S2 has Levitate with a weight of 3 or less for 0.5 seconds on each splash attack.

He doesn't have any Modules so far, but I personally have gotten attached to him through the story. I want to mention that unlike what I've noticed, his story says he is a Messenger from Kazdel. I thought it was interesting this bean with a gargantuan hammer is intended to... run around as fast as he can.

---

And finally, I almost forgot, we have Ascalon - our very dedicated Ambusher Specialist. At least that's what is said about her, but I heard that practically even Ethan is better in certain aspects.

I didn't like Ascalon when we first met her, even though her design was amazing.

Passively, her talent slows the Movement Speed of enemies and they take Ascalon's ATK as ARTS damage per second for 18/25 seconds (E1/E2). In her E2 she gets more ASPD and gains even more (wow, 8+6) if there is high ground in the 4 adjacent tiles.

Looks like this is the patch for enhanced attacks because Ascalon does 210% additional damage to an enemy, attacking twice and stores up to 3 charges in her M3 for S1.

Her S2 gives her +130% ATK, slows enemies by 60% if they are on the ground and in attack range and inflicts her T1 (the poison-esque damage) on nearby enemies when defeated. The radius of this 'nearby' means 1.3 tiles away. And it's specified that the MS reduction works on Aerial targets too, but the Talent effect is applied only to ground units.

Finally, to top it off, her range expands and she attacks faster and reduces the Physical and Arts hit rate of ground enemy units by 50%. She's more likely to be targeted by enemies, but recovers 8% MAX HP when she manages to dodge.

Her S1 gets increased, that's all.

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Right. Everybody should be on the list. Now, to my favourite part of events - watching the YT videos that are meant to introduce the event for us.

First came the Official Babel Trailer.

Here is a script I very painstakingly made of everything written on the screen, because I'm unfortunately not that fast of a reader. During my scripting, I also noticed that the last line... is almost impossible to notice because the screen cracks and glitches when it shows up. I didn't notice it the first two times I watched it for my own pleasure.

[Theresa, you've forged an irreversible "fate".] [Swords and spears sharpen in fear of your bloodkin.] [You believe our differences will eventually be put aside,] [That the tribes will ultimately unite.] [Theresa, I've seen it... your wish.] [A sea of stars shining at the end of savagery,] [A new path emerging from the storm.] [But every path has an end, Theresa.] [When you surpass the limits of civilization,] [No one will be able to comprehend your love...] [They will loathe you...] [They will fear you...] [Until hate transforms the land into ruin.] [Until blood washes the memories away.] [But we do not struggle on our own, do we?] [Words of hope are engraved on wreckage.] [...You have brought us ample delights.] [So, don't let go of my hands.] [Let's see for ourselves, together.] [Watch life awaken from despair...] [I want you to believe,] [We can still stand together,] [in the sea of flowers, listening...] [To the voices of the universe...]

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As a side note, Twitter provides another just slightly edited video of the new characters which I like to include for the fullness of the list. You can watch it Here, since I can't find it on YT.

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Finally, here is the Arknights Animation PV for Babel.

Dying. And crying. Screaming. You can see baby Amiya. You see baby Ascalon, Manfred, Theresa... Little Logos, ilovehim. His terrible haircut, his pointy ears, the cutiest that has ever patootied, I was screeching worse than any Banshee you could ever hear when I saw him.

The speaker I'm pretty sure is Kal'tsit and the important information is provided in the video description itself:

[To advance from present to future, You first settle the past.] [Arknights: Babel] [Your Highness... I swear to you]

I remember when I saw it my first thought was: Oh my god are we seeing somebody having a father??? But then I think I got swept away seeing Manfred being tied to a pole with Theresis and Theresa being the best adoptive parents that could exist.

Also, Savage jumpscare.

Also also,

Genuinely me.

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Last on the list for today is the furniture set: 'Scar Market Memories' A room modeled after the Scar Market based on the Sarkaz mercenaries' descriptions. The market was known for its disorder and disarray. Its visual appearance was established by a Cyclops who had been in charge for several decades.

I really like this one, it fits so well with Hoederer's furniture pack because they're both very... Sarkaz. By Sarkaz, I mean that they look like a hole you could've dug up to live in. Kind of cosy, kind of sad. Like anything Sarkaz we're about to learn.

---

This is what it looks like on the ship without the Minecraft shaders. Now let's just go through some of them and see the more interesting tidbits of information we have about the Sarkaz lifestyle.

Surely, a piece of furniture can't have any sort of angst about it. I mean, come on, it's just a room.

Downward Facing Branches

A withered thick tree branch, severed to a third of its original length. "We hang a dead tree branch above our heads to remind every Sarkaz: Death is gazing upon you."

...

...

...

What the absolute hell.

---

Long Twig

It's.... It's just a long twig.

Please.

A withered, thick tree branch, severed to a third of its original length. It is a symbol that stands in for the dead. The corpse of the tree is twisted and haggard, just like our fallen comrades in their final moments.

---

Witchcraft Workbench

A metal table full of scratches and marks, with a basket holding strange tools hanging underneath. All astute mercenaries know that they should never ask about the tools' real purpose.

God damn it.

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Oddities Showcase

Oh, yeah, I love oddities showcases, I've seen people make miniature showcases of like... things they... like...

A collection of cheap objects brought back from all across Terra is put on display here. The "oddities" in the name refers not to the trinkets, but to the mercenaries who managed to bring them here without dying.

---

"Work and Life"

A storage rack with some daily necessities, a few wanted posters, and quite a few ID tags. Note: The ID tags are just decorations. No Sarkaz mercenaries were harmed in the making of this collection.

You're funny, you're so very funny I am clapping my thighs with amusement you freak--- *Gets dragged away by Hoederer for a 10-minute break*

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Hoederer: "Doctor..." Me: "I don't want to read anymore..." Hoederer: "Doctor, please, you've been stalling for so long. You have to at least finish this part." Me: "Can we just please do anything else, I am going to die if I have to read another furniture set that talks about how each and every Sarkaz dies like a mayfly unnoticed and illiterate until somebody who probably minutely knew about them notices they've been gone four months past when they were meant to return-" Hoederer: "They do." Me: "... I'm sorry. I'm going back to work."

---

Steel Rail Lights

Hanging from the dark ceiling light are a cloth, a teapot, and some wine glasses; also some books. "I just put whatever on top since it's convenient. Just like how I put my life on the line for coin. Because money is convenient."

---

Messy Wine Cabinet

A messy storage shelf with wineglasses and a bottle of wine of unknown origin. Strong liquor distilled from grains is the mercs' favorite. It's cheap, strong, and "kills instantly."

---

Charcoal Oven

The charcoal fire burns slowly and projects a dark red color on the oven. To prevent indoor carbon monoxide poisoning, the "fire" here is actually a number of lights with different colors.

Are you saying.... Are you saying that they...

Okay, I think we're done here, nothing more interesting to see from the furniture set. Everything is terrible and all died, some mercenaries have artistic vision while others sleep on metal mats and other trash they put together.

I can't believe I called any of this cosy before reading their descriptions.

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I also want to give props to all of you, each comment is such a banger I've been laughing at them separately and together for ten minutes now.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

*SPOILER WARNING FOR SHADOW AND BONE SEASON 2*

Ok I am absolutely buzzing to talk about the drugged grisha at the end of e8, and I know that sounds like a weird place to start - the very end of the show with a woman we’ve never met before who immediately dies - but there is so much going on here that really excites me. Now there’s LOADS of brilliant stuff to unpack in this scene, and I have thoughts about Alina, Nikolai, and the Crows as well, but right now I want to focus on the drugged Fjerdan grisha herself.

First of all, this scene was done FANTASTICALLY. I wrote down in my notes when we saw the newly amplified grisha that I was concerned it would be difficult to portray a clear difference between the power they have and the power that parem gives, but this scene immediately alleviated all of my fears.

In the brief time she’s on screen, the woman sits in the pews at Nikolai’s coronation, takes a dose of jurda parem, and attacks the congregation. We can assume that she’s heartrender based on the type of attack that she uses, and I think that we can also assume this was not her first dose of parem. She doesn’t stand when the rest of the congregation do, and although this could be interpreted as an act of defiance against the new king, she is also shown to be pale and struggling to breathe before she takes the drug. After taking it, we don’t see much of a physical change undertake her, only a massive amplification of power, which I think is reflective of the way that the initial high and power of the first dose can never be replicated. It could also hint that her drug has been mixed with a sedative to make her easier to control, which is what the Fjerdans do to their enslaved grisha. I think it’s safe to assume that the Fjerdans have spies deep in Ravka to be able to complete this action, and there are probably Drüskelle nearby as well to control her. This brings to what I think is most interesting about her character: the exclamation. When she steps up attack she shouts “Strymaktfjerdan!”, which translates to “Fjerdan might”. As a plot device this is to tell the audience that she was sent by Fjerda and that Fjerda have access to jurda parem, but from a character point of view this is an absolute goldmine of information about her. We can assume she grew up in Fjerda, meaning she’s lived most of her life hiding her power and probably has little to no training surrounding it. This should be immediately frightening: with no training she could attack an entire chapel of people, very nearly succeeding in killing them all within moments, and she didn’t even need a clear line of sight since there were plenty of pews behind her where the people were still affected, so what can we expect from trained grisha? But we also know that she’s grown up in a country that despises her, where she will only have survived this long by desperately lying to hide her identity, and could only be sent here by the Fjerdan government if she’d been caught - and yet she still believes in her country and exclaims its might. She is praising a government that has literally enslaved her and led her to her death, as they have done with thousands of other grisha. My personal headcanon here is that she is deeply indoctrinated by the Fjerdan government and has grown up to hate herself because of the world she is surrounded by. When she was eventually caught, she was offered to go to Ravka and serve her country in this way instead of going to trial and death, so she agreed. I imagine that she was only offered this because the experiments with parem meant the Fjerdans knew she would die anyway, and even if the parem itself (or Alina) didn’t finish her off, then she would be killed or tortured on her return in the Ice Court laboratory. My headcanon is that she was offered this proposition by Jarl Brum, and this is how they intend to write him in ready for the Six of Crows spin off show

(Also, if you happen to be familiar with my tumblr then it might not surprise you to know that I’ve (so far) filled 28 pages of my little notebook whilst watching the new season, and I only started making notes in episode 6, so believe me when I say that if you like these posts I have plenty more to come)

[ladespeinada]

Some thoughts on season three of The Bear, hastily written after finishing it:

Sydney Adamu. My love, my life, my heart, my soul. Her frustration just grew and grew and grew throughout the season, and underpinned with that score, made me increasingly anxious until it finally culminated in that intense panic attack she had outside of her apartment (at which point, it felt cathartic.) She’s so clearly mirroring Carmy and his relationship with his old boss, down to panicking in the same spot. I want better for her, in multiple ways, up to and including healthcare benefits.

Which leads me to: why the fuck was Nat working so close to her due date, and why did no one push back against her going to pick up boxes of napkins when she’s literally about to burst. I know it meant that we got Ice Chips out of it, and an episode focused on Nat and Donna, but it didn’t make sense to me.

“I left you alone.” “So, don’t let it happen again.” “It’s never gonna happen again.” That blue-eyed, curly-haired, Grecian-faced man lied in Sydney’s face, thinking that being physically present in the same space and working in proximity means the same thing as not leaving her alone. Sydney was more alone in this season than she was in the season two when Carmy fucked off and hung out with Claire and talked about emergency room horror stories.

The presence of the Faks was overwhelming this season, which ended up feeling like purely ornamental proof that The Bear is indeed a comedy because look at these bumbling fools! They’re funny! They’re little jesters! Any and every self-serious restaurant after a Michelin Star will surely have Two Little Guys at the helm, no matter if they have no serious training or serving skills!! It’s not as if said self-serious restaurants aren’t regularly draining money on overhead costs, of which labour is surely a part of! (Why did the Computer only suggest Marcus get cut from The Bear, and not the fucking Faks? Are they not getting paid? What the hell is the deal there? These are not serious people.)

“If you fuck with Marcus, I will murder you.” IKTR!!!!!!

Why did the screen time for all of the characters of colour get minimised, especially in comparison to last season. Why did neither Angel or Manny have any major lines that weren’t just curse words, or scenes where they were interacting with others beyond washing dishes. Why did I see the Faks more than I saw Sydney. I wanted to see more of Gary’s somm classes. I wanted to see more Ebra. I wanted to see more of Marcus’ desserts. I also wanted to see Marcus more actively hanging out with Luca. I wanted more scenes with Tina and Marcus cooking together, riffing off of each other and their experiences!

Finally, some interiority for my sweetiepie Tina Marrera! That said, we mostly got a look at her past, and a limited look at her present (my girl is experiencing some massive imposter syndrome, but we don’t get to dig into it much. Nor do we get many Tina x Ebra moments which is an affront to me personally because their relationship is my favourite). I read this Slate review of season three by Jack Hamilton after I finished watching season three, and while I don’t agree with everything, I found this articulation especially in line with my thinking re: Tina and her episode: “The incessant use of flashbacks feels like a crutch to avoid characters or the show itself actually moving forward, in any direction. Dribbling out details of a character’s past like breadcrumbs is a hackish and tiresome device: Filling in backstory shouldn’t be confused with character development.”

That said!!! The scenes with Michael, especially in Tina’s episode, are incredible. Just a few minutes and you can see the shine of Michael’s charisma, the underbelly of his pain, you miss him and want him back, you see why everyone loved him so deeply. He was so magnetic in this episode, and so terrifying in Forks, and the decline in between those episodes must’ve been so painful to watch. 

This might sound silly to say because it was still very much everywhere, especially in the beginning of EP2, but Chicago felt like it was missing. Or rather, the anxieties of Chicago were missing. In seasons one and two, there’s the looming threat of Chicago gentrification (in one, The Beef is hurt by it; in two, The Bear is a part of it), plus there’s the aftereffects of COVID on Chicago’s restaurant scene. In season three, we got shots of Chicago, yes, and a lot of like, Wilco or whatever, but it didn’t feel grounded in the city the way it had in previous seasons. Not quite sure how to articulate this thought, but there you go.

The “haunting” the Faks go on and on (and on and on) about is so hamfisted, and felt so out of place for a show whose writing is usually quite taut, especially in its comedic moments. It’s just bashing you over the head with the idea that omg, it’s not just the dead that can haunt the living, the living can as well! What an idea!

I really wish Claire’s character was better written, but once again, her characterisation fell flat because she’s presented in mostly flashbacks, and through Carmy’s perspective at that, and that man apparently has difficulties understanding that she’s meant to be a person and not just a concept.

The moment in the final episode, where Syd and Carm are eating with other chefs at Ever, and one of them says “the greatest mistake is working for a bad boss, such that, what it unlocks in you is the culture that you choose to create”....hilariously unsubtle but fantastic nonetheless, because it’s followed by Carm confronting his nightmare boss (David Fields! I def did think he was a hallucination Carm was experiencing at Ever's funeral), and because it’s absolutely clear that Carm is also a fucking bad boss, and Sydney should absolutely not sign those papers. (I don’t think she should go with Adam and his new restaurant either, because the vibes are off there, too.) 

Along those lines: that moment where Carmy says, I think about you too much, and Fields responds with, I don’t think about you was fantastic, but also felt unearned.

Olivia Coleman’s Chef Terry saying, Service, bitches! was tremendous. 

Reiterating that I wanted to see more of Luca and Marcus together. I love them, your honour.

Selfishly, I indulged and binged this season because I was hoping it would unlock inspiration for me to keep writing my Tina fic and just fic in general but I don't think it did that, unfortch.

(Last thing: yet another season with Taylor Swift but no Fall Out Boy. We continue to suffer.)