#kyle angst

[headless609]

Kyle Angst

Kyle has the most subtle trauma out of the boys. I believe that one of the reasons is because Kyle has an ego and dosent want it tainted by looking weak. And when we see Kyle with the gang we see him often as having quite the temperament and yelling out his shouts. And one might think that it’s just anger issues (which he has), but I think it has to do with his home life. In South Park movie Longer and Uncut, Sheila, Kyles mom, creates a full on war against Canada. And as we watch we see Kyle begging his mom to stop but it falling on deaf ears. Not only does his mother not listen but when cousin Kyle visits in The Entity (S5E11) we see her halt at the problem that her son and cousin have the same name. So what does she do? Call HER SON, “Kyle 2.” Kyle looked devastated. And it’s not just his mom. We all know season 20 and “SkankHunt” and how Gerald was trolling kids and people on the internet. And we see in E7 when Gerald says that Kyle overreacts and is a pussy. Not only that but Sheila and Gerald often leave Kyle alone with Ike causing Kyle, a 4th grader, have to babysit for how many hours. And I feel that’s why Kyle is seen lashing out and yelling because he thinks that no one wants to listen to him. And he feels like he is supposed to be perfect, because of Ike who is like… idk really really smart or somethin’. This makes Kyle feel like he has to prove himself and be ‘perfect.’ Ever wonder why Kyle is doing silly shit that is pretty bad and just being an asshole sometimes but then in some journey’s he’s stubborn and preachy saying it ‘isn’t moral.’ 

I tried my best and it definitely took a while to get this info cuz… idk research 🤷‍♀️ anyways, sorry if it was long ‘^ . ^ 

[fennecfiree]

ugh reading angst fics and sobbing

stoopid shitty kyle angst doodle

[writingforcuteppl]

Enchanted (Kyle’s Version)

PAIRING: Kyle Broflovski x Reader

SUMMARY: Remembering can be bittersweet, and each and one of them have been since you were little. That doesn’t mean all the memories are joyful. But in the end, you were enchanted to meet them.

GENRE: Angst, Fluff.

WARNINGS: Swearing, mention of eating disorders, depression, panic attacks, bullying (if you squint).

WORD COUNT: 5.3k words

PART: 2.1 (series masterlist)

3rd Grade

“This is our first year together, right?” you turned your gaze to the redhead boy who sat down next to you. You were waiting for one of your friends to arrive, or well, you were expecting him to be in the same class as you.

“Yeah. You’re Kyle, right?” you asked him. Even if you were in different classes, you knew who he was since it was easy to hear the girls in your class and his class talk about the cute redhead boy all the time.

“And you must be Y/n. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“You know who am I?”

“Well, last year I was in the same class as Kenny, who I know is your best friend. He just couldn’t stop talking about this fantastic friend he has.” you smiled.

“Yeah, he is my best friend. I hope he didn’t say anything bad tho. I’d punch him if he did.”

“Don’t worry. He didn’t. But I wished he at least mentioned you were cute” You hid your face in your hands. You felt your heart’s pace get quicker. You turned your head to Kyle.

“I think you are cute too.”

“It’s recess time. You’re supposed to be eating” Kyle sat beside you on the ground.

“I forgot my lunch,” you sighed. “And well, I’m not really fond of the idea of eating a ham sandwich again for the 100th time.”

“You are telling me all these days I’ve seen you eat a sandwich. It has been a ham sandwich every time?” You nodded, and Kyle was shocked. He always thought there were variations of it. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. It’s just I know my mom tries hard to prepare me something for lunch, but I actually wish I could have something more for lunch. Or at least that the sandwich had more than just ham. I saw one picture where a sandwich had lettuce and tomatoes. That would be nice.”

“So it’s literally two slices of bread with a slice of ham in the middle?”

“Yeah.”

“You know what? I’m not letting that continue. Here have half of my lunch” Kyle gave you 4 pieces out of the 8 nuggets his mom sent him for lunch. “I’ll tell my mom to pack an extra portion from now on.”

“Kyle, I can’t accept, look, I can tell my mom to give me money for lunch,” you lied to him. You knew pretty well your mom wouldn’t give you money since she thought you would spend it on something else.”

“I won’t take no for an answer. We can give your sandwich to pigeons or another animal so it wouldn’t go to waste, but I’m not letting you keep eating only that. You need proper food at this age.” you sighed. You looked at Kyle directly into his eyes. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Fine, but let me repay you in some way.”

“I’ll think about it.”

4th Grade

“Are you gonna tell me what happened?” you turned around to where the voice was coming from. Kyle was standing behind you.

“What do you mean?” you were finishing packing up your stuff, ready to go home, when Kyle stopped you before leaving the classroom.

“Don’t try to hide it from me. I can see it in your face. Something happened last Christmas, and you haven’t been the same. I tried to not bother you for the past months, but you’re not the same” Kyle was able to see how you were trying to come up with something, but he knew he wasn’t going to get any information from you. “Just, I want you to know that if you ever need anything, you can count on me, Y/n.”

Kyle was ready to leave the classroom when you grabbed his wrist and pulled him in for a hug. The first hug the two of you shared. Kyle hugged you back, and he realized you had started crying. He didn’t know what to say next, but he knew something. He hated seeing you like this, making his heart break into a million pieces. You didn’t say anything at all. You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity until you could calm yourself. You really wanted to say something about what happened to you to Kyle, but it was way too personal.

“Thanks, Kyle. Maybe one day I’ll tell you, ok?” Kyle only nodded and kissed your wet cheek.

“What are you still doing here, Y/n? I thought you always leave with Kenny” Kyle saw you standing at the school’s entrance as if you were waiting for someone, no, for something to leave the school.

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t feeling good today and left early. His mom picked him up.”

“And why are you still here? It’s been 20 minutes since everyone has left.”

“I can ask you the same, Kyle.”

“Well, I needed some help from Mr. Garrison for my project, so I stayed behind. And you?” Kyle was looking at you, and you hid your face in your hands. He smiled.

“Promise not to laugh” You handed out your left hand to him with your pinky out while your right hand was still covering your face. Kyle linked his pinky to yours.

“I promise” For the first time since he found you, you were able to look at him in the eyes.

“It’s just that… Agh, this is so embarrassing. But I haven’t been by myself in the streets ever. And I know my house is just a couple blocks away, but I’m scared. My parents always came for me until the beginning of this year, and that’s when Kenny offered to walk me to my house every day. But today he’s sick, so this will be the first time I’m walking alone….” Kyle didn’t laugh as you expected, but he was smiling. He felt his heart flutter. You were just way too pure.

“I understand, but you know you can’t stay here forever.”

“It’s been only 20 minutes Kyle. I’m just waiting for the courage to come to me. I’m a big girl now,” you answered back.

“Oh well, I was going to offer to walk you home, but since you are a big girl, you can do it by yourself” Kyle started to walk outside the school when he felt your hands grab his arm. Kyle couldn’t help but smirk.

“WAIT! Since you’re offering, how can I say no to you, my dearest friend!” Kyle could see your relieved semblance. He noticed one of your hands never left his arm. Actually, he was able to feel your hand slowly making its way to his hand until you were holding hands. Kyle looked at you and then at your hands which were now intertwined. You looked at him with questioning eyes until you realized what you were doing.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. It’s just that I’m just so used to holding Kenny’s hand.” you were trying to let go of Kyle’s hand, but his grip was stronger.

“I’m not gonna let you go. I like it. You started it. Now commit to it.” You laughed and stopped trying to let go of him.

“If Kenny’s not able to walk you home, tell me. I will love to do it, ok?”

“Ok.”

5th Grade

“So you won’t believe who I saw crying outside Mr. Mackey’s office,” Wendy said to Red and Bebe.

“Omg, who?” Kyle rolled his eyes after hearing the girls gossiping once again when they should be helping him, and Kenny prepare the next project Mr. Garrison assigned.

“Y/n,” Kyle and Kenny froze. “She was literally bawling; she-”

“When?” before she could finish the sentence, Kyle interrupted her.

“A few moments ago. Why do you-” Kenny and Kyle didn’t even wait for her to finish when they made their way to Mr. Garrison. He was reading something on his phone, not even bothering if his students were working on their projects at all.

“Mr. Garrison, can we leave for a few minutes, please?” Kenny asked him. Kyle was able to see his nervousness.

“Why would I let you do that, Kenny?” Mr. Garrison turned his gaze to the two boys standing in front of him.

“A friend of ours, Y/n, we heard she’s not feeling right, and we want to make sure she’s ok. I promise we will return as soon as we make sure she’s fine, please.” Kyle answered, and Mr. Garrison was able to see the two kids were anxious. He saw they were telling the truth and not only a lie to leave class without permission. Mr. Garrison handed them the hall pass.

“Don’t get distracted and come back after making sure she ok.” Mr. Garrison returned his attention to his phone, and Kyle and Kenny quickly left the classroom.

Kyle and Kenny were running to Mr. Mackey’s office. Kyle felt his heart beating so hard. Something definitely happened to you if you were crying in public. The closer they were getting to the office, the more he felt his heart coming out of his chest.

They saw you sitting on one of the chairs that were outside the counselor’s office. Kyle could see Mr. Mackey was trying to calm you down, but you were still crying, and it didn’t seem you were stopping any time soon.

Kyle realized it wasn’t only crying. He could see your scared semblance. Kenny ran to you and knelt in front of you. Kyle got closer to Mr. Mackey and showed him the hall pass. Mr. Mackey just nodded and thought maybe your two friends would help better than him. He left the three of you to talk.

“Princess,” Kenny started to speak, trying to get your attention. Kyle saw the way you were holding your chest. You looked at Kenny and tried to talk, but it seemed that whenever you tried to speak, your breathing started to become more hectic than it already was. You were having a panic attack. Kyle saw Kenny also begin to cry, not knowing what was happening to you. That’s when Kyle stepped in.

“Hey, I need you to breathe with me, ok?” Kyle grabbed your attention and placed one hand over your hands that were still on your chest. You only nodded to him. He took one of your hands over his chest so you could feel his breathing. You slowly started to calm down, but the tears continued rolling out of your eyes. The two of you stayed like that until Kyle could see you were ok. Kyle smiled at you.

“You did great, sweetheart.” you only nodded.

“What are you doing here?” you asked them.

“We came as soon as we heard you were crying,” Kenny said, and you were able to see his puffy face.

“I didn’t want you to worry. I’m sorry” You almost started to cry again after realizing the two of them got worried because of you. Kenny knelt again in front of you and grabbed your face by the cheeks.

“Hey, hey, don’t you dare to think anything bad at this moment.” Kenny began cleaning your tears with his sweatshirt sleeve.

“Wanna talk about it?” Kyle asked you while he was tucking a strand of your hair in your ear. You shook your head, wanting anything but to remember the reason for your attack.

“Don’t you have to get back to class?” you asked worriedly. Your teacher knew you were with Mr. Mackey, but you knew they only had permission to leave for just a few moments since you could see the hall pass hanging from Kyle’s hand. Before they could answer you, Mr. Mackey came out of his office.

“You are better, Miss Y/L/N?” You nodded and gave your counselor a reassuring smile. “Then I believe you have to get to class, the three of you. If you need to talk, my door’s always open, kids.”

“Thanks, Mr. Mackey,” Kyle answered him, and the counselor returned to his usual spot in his office.

Kyle and Kenny were both grabbing your hands while walking back to your classroom. Having them by your side always made you feel at peace. When the three of you arrived at your classroom, Kenny kissed you on the cheek.

“We’re gonna talk later when school finishes, ok? Wait for me here.” Kenny moved away so Kyle could say goodbye to you.

“Just if you feel it’s going to start again, try breathing slowly, ok?” you nodded, and he gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead.

“Thank you, guys,” you whispered and entered your classroom. Kyle and Kenny let out a loud sigh. They may not have that much in common now, but they knew they would do anything for you.

6th Grade

Kyle saw you laying your head on your desk. He couldn’t quite see if you were just resting or if you actually fell asleep. He knows for a fact you haven’t been sleeping properly for quite some time now, so he doesn’t want to disturb you if you’re asleep.

He slowly made his way to the chair that was free next to you and sat down. Kyle could see your face better. You were definitely asleep. Your face was peaceful, and not a glimpse of stress was on it. You looked like an angel to him. Well, you always looked like one to him. Ever since he met you, he has thought you were way too perfect to be actually real.

“So pretty,” Kyle whispered.

Kyle was able to admit he was now in love with you. But unfortunately, he wasn’t going to be ever with you, all because of that stupid pact he made a few years ago with Stan and Kenny. He regretted that pact ever since he realized you were his everything.

He tucked a strain of hair that was covering your face in your ear. He tried to not wake you up, but of course, he managed to wake you up. You yawned and opened your eyes, trying to adjust your sight to the classroom’s light.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up, sweetheart. Sorry,” You didn’t care you woke you up, and most importantly, you didn’t mind if Kyle was the one who did it. You smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t fully asleep. I was just, you know, resting” You stretched out your arms and then grabbed one of Kyle’s hands, reassuring him it was ok.

“So… You think I’m pretty?” you asked the boy, and Kyle felt his cheeks burning.

“Yeah, I mean, you know you’re pretty right,” you let out a laugh.

“Oh, so you just said it because you think I think I’m pretty?” you asked.

“No.” Kyle knew it was now or never. “I do think you are pretty. Really pretty.” you smiled at him.

“I think you’re pretty, too, Kyle. Really pretty.” Kyle wasn’t used to hearing compliments, so when he heard those words coming out from you, his heart was ready to come out of his chest.

Kyle slowly started to approach you. You could see his face getting closer and closer to yours, and you held your breath. Could this be it? Was Kyle gonna be your first kiss? Kyle grabbed your right cheek and stroked it with his thumb.

"Fuck the stupid pact!" Kyle thought. He was looking at your eyes and then at your lips, going back and forth, just wanting to make sure you enjoyed this as much as he did. You smiled at him. That was enough reassurance for him to keep going forward. Since he was getting closer, you were able to perceive his smell. Cinnamon and apple. He smelled sweet. Before he could actually kiss you, he stopped just mere inches away from you.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.” He smiled. Your lips were almost touching…

“Y/n!” Kenny entered the classroom shouting and looking for you. You and Kyle pulled apart before Kenny could see the closeness between the two of you. When you turned your head to the door, you were able to see Kenny was making his way to you, and Stan was looking at Kyle with anger. You wanted to ask Kyle about it, but you decided to brush it off and ask Kenny what he needed.

“I forgot we had an exam today. Can you please, please, please help me?” Kenny was giving you puppy eyes. Kenny knew he interrupted one really important moment for you, so he knew he needed to be extra sweet and careful with you.

“I swear to god, Kenny, you are so... God, why do you have to be so inopportune?”

“But you love me.”

“Yeah, whatever. You owe me big time, McCormick” You turned your head to Kyle and muttered a “Sorry” to him. You stood up so you could follow Kenny, but before leaving, you turned around and went back to Kyle and kissed him quickly on the cheek. You didn’t give him a usual kiss tho. It was tender and sweet. Kyle smiled.

“Maybe another time,” you whispered in his ear and gave him another quick kiss on the cheek.

You were sure Kyle Broflovski was going to be your first kiss someday.

8th Grade

Kyle was nervous. He went away for one year. Not only because his dad decided to move to San Francisco due to work, but he was also an important factor in his father’s decision. He needed time to forget whatever feelings he had for you.

The last time he was at South Park, he got into a fight with Stan and Kenny since he wanted to break the pact where the three of them decided that none of them were going to be ever with you for the sake of their friendship. Still, at the end of the day, the two of them were the closest ones, so why did he have to be involved in that pact too?

Anyways, Kyle was sure those feelings were long forgotten in San Francisco. He was really sure if he saw you again, he wouldn’t feel anything at all. And then you entered the classroom. Kyle’s breathing got stuck in his lungs.

You were different. He was gone for a whole year, and you were completely different, at least in his eyes. He could see your face, your eyes seemed lost, but they still had that same light he fell in love with. Your hair was longer. Physically you were skinnier. That definitely was something that changed the most. And, of course, last but not least, your smile. You always managed to smile, but he saw it wasn’t as sincere as before.

Kyle couldn’t help but notice the person that was on your left side. Kenny. Of course, he was there with you, but that was also different this time. He seemed more alert. As if he was protecting something, in this case, you. His demeanor was scary. Kenny was able to see Kyle was in the classroom before you were able to notice him, so he covered your view so you wouldn’t see him. Kyle’s blood started to boil. Who does he think he is? It took all the strength Kyle had for him to not go up to Kenny and start a fight.

Your first teacher of the day came into the classroom and started to talk about what you were going to be learning during that school year when they noticed Kyle was back.

“Well, look who came back! I don’t think it is necessary to introduce you to your old classmates, am I right, Mr. Broflovski?”

The mention of Kyle’s last name grabbed your attention really fast. You turned your head to where your teacher was looking, and for the first time in what you felt were months, you actually smiled out of happiness. You locked eyes with Kyle, and your heart skipped out of your chest. He was indeed back.

Your Kyle was finally back after a year. At that moment, you couldn’t care less if he just left without anyone noticing. You were so happy he was back in town. You waved at him, and he mouthed a “Hi” to you and gave you the sweetest smile. Kyle was definitely not over you and doesn’t think he will ever be.

“You seem different, sweetheart” You turned around and saw Kyle, who was sitting down on the entrance stairs.

“What do you mean, Kyle?”

“I’m gonna be completely honest with you right now, and I really hope you don’t get offended, but since the first day of school, I realized you were different, as if you were a whole new person… Something happened while I was gone, didn’t it?” you sighed. You tend to forget Kyle was way too observant and way too smart. Of course he was going to notice your change of attitude and your physical change.

“I cannot hide anything from you, Kyle…” You were debating if it was actually a good idea to tell Kyle everything that happened over the year he was gone. In the end, Kyle was one of the people you could truly trust, or at least he used to be. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me everything, Y/n,” you were preparing yourself mentally. You promised yourself you would never let Kyle see you in such a bad physical and mental state, but at this point, you needed help. The only people who know what has affected you in so many ways during the last year were Kenny and Bebe, but you were starting to feel you were such a burden. Maybe Kyle could help better.

“Well, a lot has happened since you were gone for over a year. First of all, it was unfortunate when I didn’t see you on the first day of 7th grade. I felt like a piece of me had been missing for over a year. You know how important you are to me, Kyle. I should’ve taken that as a sign that it would be such a horrible year,” you chuckled.

You tried to smile, but Kyle noticed all the pain you had collected over a year. He grabbed your hand, and you continued. “I really tried to at least give the best and tried to stay positive, but there were these comments going around of how I looked at that if I continued doing whatever I was doing and eating, I was going to end up being as big as a fucking pig. I really tried to not pay attention to those comments, but the fact that even my own family and parents were saying those types of comments really took a toll on me. I’m pretty sure you did notice that change, am I right, Kyle?” Kyle only nodded.

“And, of course, my parents. I mean, you may remember how they were, right? Well, now they are worse. They don’t really see me as their daughter but only as a machine that has to do everything perfectly. They don’t see me as a human being anymore. They also expect me to be perfect at school, but mentally I just can’t….” you didn’t realize when you started to cry. The tears were rolling down your cheeks. “I want them to love me, and I know that if I’m a good student, they will finally be proud of me and tell me they love me, but I just can’t seem to do school right. I’m just useless.”

You cleaned the tears with your sleeve. Kyle was surprised and sad at the same time. He could see that those negative feelings affected you way too much. He felt his heart sink into his chest. He wrapped one arm around you, and you leaned into his shoulder and closed your eyes.

You were exhausted. Your parents and school have been really hard to handle, and at this point, you wanted everything to just stop. Maybe you were going to regret telling all of this to Kyle later today, but as for now, it felt good the way he was holding you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world that could break at any moment. You were really enjoying the physical contact.

“You are not useless.”

“I’m literally so fucking useless right now, Kyle. I’m unable to do anything right, and over the last year, my grades have just gotten worse and worse. I’m not the smart girl you used to know.”

“I don’t think grades get to tell how good or bad a person is. What you do is what matters.”

“Fuck, that’s even worse.” you tried to joke and laugh, but Kyle realized you were really thinking that poorly of yourself.

“I’m serious, Y/n” Kyle wanted to keep talking and show you how much of a fantastic person you were, but he realized he wouldn’t be able to change your point of view of yourself anytime soon. Whatever your parents have told you really affected the way you perceived yourself. He kissed you on your forehead. “I can tell people have hurt you so much over the past year, but now I’m here, and I’m not letting anyone hurt you anymore, sweetheart. Got it?”

“You sure you ok, sweetheart?” Kyle wanted to know what happened between you and Kenny. Everyone in the class could see that you and Kenny weren’t even acknowledging each other.

For the past 7 almost 8 years, you and Kenny were inseparable, so this was just new territory for Kyle and a shocker for everyone else. The two of you were supposed to be reading and making a summary of whatever new book your English teacher assigned this month.

You only nodded, not even looking up from your book, and Kyle understood you didn’t want to talk about it. A part of him (the most selfish part) was pleased Kenny wasn’t next to you 24/7, but of course, the other part hated to see you so distraught.

“He’s an asshole if he can’t see what an amazing person he had by his side.”

“He’s not an asshole...” you closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself. Even if you weren’t on speaking terms with Kenny, you still believed he was the best thing you could’ve had. “You think that?”That I'm an amazing person?” you finally looked at him, trying to change the subject.

“Of course, I think that.” Kyle tugged one strand of hair that was falling into your ear, and you smiled at him. Kyle always managed to make you feel better. You leaned into his shoulder.

“I just, I really don’t know what the hell happened. I mean, yeah, we fought a few weeks ago, but we made up, or well, at least I think we did. I don’t understand why he just started to ignore me and treat me like I’m the worst person he’s ever met.”

Kyle glanced at Kenny, who was not far from the two of you, and he could see the anger and betrayal he was feeling. He couldn’t believe Kenny was playing the victim in all of this, and he couldn’t quite understand why you didn’t do anything to at least make Kenny understand it wasn’t your fault, either.

“You know what’s the worse part? I don’t even know what I did. It looks like I did something to him and Bebe, but I’ve tried to remember everything that happened for those weeks, and I’m unable to piece any of it.” Kyle didn’t stop looking at Kenny during all that moment.

Definitely, Kenny was ready to pick up a fight with him, but something stopped him. No, someone got his attention, Red. Kyle found it suspicious since he never really listened to anyone but you, but it appears Red became closer to Kenny after his fight with you.

Kyle decided it was best to just get all his attention to you instead of Kenny. Kyle grabbed your chin so you could see him directly in the eyes.

“I don’t really know what happened. At this point, I’m pretty sure I know as much as you, but I promise you that I’m going to find out what happened. Just trust me, ok?” Kyle gave you a sweet kiss on your cheek, and you blushed. You were finally smiling for the first time during the day.

“It’s not that necessary, Kyle. I’m just happy you believe me. I’m serious. Thank you” You returned your sight to your book. Kyle smiled at your comment.

He loved making you feel better, he loved your smile, and he loved the way you always managed to make him feel. Loved. Kyle also returned his sight to his book. When he least expected it, he felt your hand grabbing his. You smiled when you felt him squeeze your hand. You really loved everything Kyle was doing for you, and of course, you really loved Kyle.

“You really aren’t going to go to the last day of school? You’ve been absent for over a week now. Also is the graduation ceremony. The last day we will see each other” You and Kyle were lying down on the floor of your bedroom; the bed was way too small for the two of you to fit in it. Your parents, thankfully, were out working until 8 pm, so for the last week, Kyle has been visiting you during the evenings.

“Yeah, it’s not worth it. I don’t have anything to celebrate about,” you sighed. For the past months, Kyle has been the only one you could trust in. And the only one that seems to enjoy your presence.

“C’mon, it’s gonna be fine. I’m gonna be there. Let’s show everyone they cannot get to us that easily. If you don’t go tomorrow, they will win.” you laughed at his comment.

“You’re making it sound like it’s war, Kyle.”

“Well, yeah. Those fuckers hurt you. Don’t satisfy them, sweetheart.” you moved your whole body to face Kyle.

“I don’t know Kyle. I don’t think I want to see Kenny yet” You closed your eyes, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall at any moment. You felt Kyle’s hand grab your cheek, and his thumb started to caress it.

“Open your eyes, please.” You slowly did what he asked you to do, and you realized he was closer to you than he was before. His face was just mere inches apart from yours.

“Kyle…” you looked at his lips. Your whole body was now aware of his presence. How one of his arms was below your head, giving it some support while his other hand was still caressing your cheek. How, somehow, both of your legs were now intertwined. How his breathing started to pick up the moment you looked at his lips. For just that moment, you forgot everything that has been bothering you for such a long time now. For just that moment, it was only you and him.

“Can I…” Kyle didn’t even need to finish the sentence. The two of you have been waiting for this moment for so long, and it was finally happening. You only nodded, and that’s when you felt Kyle’s lips touch yours. The kiss was short but sweet. And it was everything you ever wished for. The two of you opened your eyes, and you stayed in silence for some minutes, just looking into each other eyes. Kyle’s gaze was filled with adoration and love.

“Please, go tomorrow. I’m never leaving your side. Plus, it may be the last day we are going to see each other since we are going to different high schools. Please, sweetheart.”

“Ok, but you have to promise you aren’t leaving me alone at any moment. Promise?”

“Promise.”

n a v i g a t i o n

[bloodyboi]

[luxcuriousao3]

Something something Alpha!Ghost gets captured during a mission and dosed with rut inducers, then tossed in a cell with Omega!Reader. He claims and breeds her, just like his overwhelming instincts demand. And when they're rescued, they're stuck with each other. There's no breaking the bond once it's been made--no matter how badly Ghost wants to.

His pack has to pick up the slack when he fails to be a good Alpha, avoiding his Omega out of guilt for hurting her during his rut and claiming her without her consent, as well as fear of being attached to someone so vulnerable, so easy to kill. He's convinced that if he just doesn't let himself get close to her, it won't hurt as much if she dies.

The rest of the 141, in the meantime, become smitten with their new, sweet little Omega quite quickly.

[bluegiragi]

birdie.

early access + nsfw on patreon monster!AU masterpost

[criminalamnesia]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

[a-b-riddle]

Can’t stop thinking about poly141 who get so wrapped up in their own bullshit they begin to neglect reader. So you leave 🤷🏼‍♀️

It wasn’t a big deal at first. You understood that their jobs were intense to say the least. You own a bookshop, which in itself was exhausting, but you understood how they could get carried away with work.

You had excused the many delayed returned texts or missed FaceTime dates when they were deployed. When they came home, they almost always made it up to you. Showering you with attention and quality time.

But the past two returns home have been… different.

Usually at least one of them made a beeline to your shop or your loft if it was too late in the evening. You always held your breath when it was just one of them.

“They’re okay.” Was the usual answer. “Everyone made it back okay.” It was only then that you could melt into whoever’s hands you were in.

After one of their recent returns home you had voice to Price that you didn’t appreciate several days passing after they came back and no one had bothered to tell you. He had snapped. Arguing that a mission doesn’t finish just because they land back on soil. There was paperwork and debriefing to be done. If and when they wanted to see you they would.

He didn’t apologize until later. Crawling into your bed, using one of the keys you had given them. Blaming the stress. How they had almost lost Johnny for the reason of his outburst. What else could you do but forgive him?

So you had given them space after that one. Not holding it against them to decompress before seeing you.

The next time was the final straw. Solidifying how little they cared about you and how much power you had given them.

Johnny had come in around 7 one evening. He was dressed nicely, for civilian standards. You were reading a book on the couch when he had let himself in. You were wearing on of Simon’s sweatshirts and panties. He took you in for a moment before scooping you up.

He fucked you absolutely stupid. Adamant on having you cum on his tongue, his fingers and his cock. You were only able to bask in the afterglow of him filling you up before he started pulling his pants back on.

“What are you doing?” There were times that you would practically need a crow bar to get Johnny detached from you just long enough to relieve yourself. You had gotten many a UTI courtesy of Mr. John MacTavish.

“Dinner with my family tonight.” He explained by the time he was already buttoning his shirt. “The youngest just graduated and ma’ feels the need to go all out.” Now came the tie. Johnny was actually wearing a tie. To go to dinner. “A fancy dinner in London.” He huffed. “Meanwhile I’m out scufflin’ with bloody fuckin’ terrorists and I get a pat on the back.” He gave you a peck on the cheek before heading out the door. Promising to call you later.

You just sat in your bed. Still naked. Almost in shocked. He had fucked you and just… left. You were close to a panic attack as you called Simon.

Simon wasn’t the one to cuddle and coddle. But there was something so soothing at the sound of his voice or even how his heavy body felt perfect laying on top of you. Yes. Simon wasn’t the time to lift you up with words, but he was your own security blanket. Just having him close helped.

“Can you come over?” It wasn't unusal for Simon to be the one to come later in the evening. Insomnia was a bitch to deal with and you could sleep through the sounds of whatever he played on the tv. Most of the times you were content laying your head on his lap as he ran his hand along your head as if he were petting you. It was a bit cringe, but it knocked you out every time.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. The low timber of his voice already calming you.

“Johnny came over.” You sniffled. “He just fucked me and left.”

“Not surprised.” He scoffed. You could almost see him rolling those deep brown eyes of his. “If you wanted to cum, I’m happy to come over and help.”

For whatever reason, that only seemed to make you more upset. “You’re not listening.” You said, trying to spell it out for him. “He left. Like didn’t even stay and cuddle just left. Fucked me and left.”

“That’s why you’re calling me crying about?” He almost seemed… annoyed.

“Yes!” You said, nearly snapping. All of the tension from the last several months coming to the surface. “I’m not just a warm body to keep a bed cozy until you assholes decide you need to get one off.” Assholes. You called them assholes. “This isn’t what we agreed to.”

“Johnny is Johnny.” Simon tried to defend, not really caring to continue the conversation now knowing that you weren't in any sort of physical harm. “He wanted his dick wet and from the sound of it, that’s what he did. Don’t hold it against him because he had other things to do.”

“It’s not just Johnny leaving.” Your throat felt like it was tightening. A telltale sign you were close to crying. Whether from sadness or anger you weren't entirely sure. “The only time any of you want anything to do with me anymore is to fuck.” You missed date nights and lunches. You missed texting any and all of them about your day, about theirs. About new books. You had been trying for months to tell them over dinner one of your books got picked up. Yours was being traditionally published.

None of them had bothered to even try penciling you in.

“You got yours.” You heard the popping of a can top. Simon was settling in for the night. Once he popped a top at home there was no getting him out. He wasn't coming for you. “I don’t understand what you’re bitchin’ to me about. Yeah, in the beginning we indulged ya a bit? Dressed you up, took you out. But you should have known spreadin’ them legs of yours wouldn’t end with one of us puttin’ a ring on your finger.”

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? These were the men that pursued you. Initially, individually, but when tensions became to much they offered a solution. All of them. Four times the attention, of the affection.

Four times the love.

But also four time the neglect. Four times the amount of heartbreak and disappointment. Loving all of them meant putting yourself in a position to let each of them hurt you in their own way and they had.

John's constant state of snapping at you as if you were one of his men.

Johnny swinging by as if you were just a fuck buddy. Not even bothering to give a peck before leaving.

Kyle essentially ignoring you for weeks now. Ghosting you for hours or having to cancel on date nights last minute or claiming that he really did forget that the two of you had planned to meet for lunch.

And now there was Simon. Telling you that all you meant to them was what was between your thighs.

Spreadin' them legs of yours wouldn't end with one of us puttin' a ring on your finger.

None of them ever intended on making this into something more. That much was clear now.

You didn't know what to say to Simon. You couldn't think of a witty retort. You couldn't find the proper insult to whirl his way. You couldn't convey just how much his words had hurt.

So you did the only thing you could.

You hung up.

[incorrectbatfam]

How small must the world be for both Bruce and Tim to witness John and Mary Grayson's deaths

Or for 10-year-old Duke to crack the Riddler's puzzle before Batman swoops in and saves the day, long before his powers came into play

Or for Sheila Haywood to leave her son only to end up assisting his killer a decade and a half later

Not to mention the popular fanon concept of Jason knowing baby Damian in the League of Assassins

Now imagine how many other invisible strings could've tied them together

Like what if Tim and Jason went to the same school when Jason was Robin but all they shared was the occasional bump and "excuse me" in the busy halls

Or what if Babs was a tutor and helped an elementary-aged Steph finally understand her homework only for the Browns to cancel after a couple sessions because they couldn't afford it

What if the first person to buy Cass a hot meal was Kate on one of her travels

What if Alfred witnessed young Selina shoplifting groceries but chose to turn a blind eye

What if Jason lived on the same streets as the Row siblings and gave little Harper tips on how to use tools and defend her brother

What if Steph and Duke shared the same school bus, only he sat in the front while she was toward the back

What if the first person to teach Tim how to tie his shoes was Bruce at a gala because Jack and Janet were busy talking to someone important

What if Bette did a DNA test for fun and found a connection in Nanda Parbat but just assumed the results was faulty because she knew her whole family, right?

What if 8-year-old Dick, the day before his parents died, stayed at a cheap hotel near Crime Alley and found 4-year-old Jason wandering alone and said, "I'll be your big brother for tonight"

What if the universe knew they were made for each other and wouldn't rest until they realized it too

[stinglesswasp]

Forehead smooches 💋

It's important to smooch your Soap at least once per day <3

[gloomwitchwrites]

For call of duty, can you write how 141 would react to you coming home after being announced KIA?

Love your work btw ❤️❤️

Not gonna lie, anon, but I genuinely read this as us reacting to the 141 coming home after being announced KIA, not them reacting to us coming home. I literally dumped everything I had planned and redid it because I missed that ONE word. (oops). Still, it's an emotional one. Your tears fuel me. :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Task Force 141!f!Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): angst, reunions, fluff, kissing, secret relationship, established relationship, grief/loss, swearing, mild humor, suggestive themes, mild sexual content

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

Reality isn’t fair. It’s not kind or forgiving.

A week gone and John is simply floating, going through the motions, simply existing. This is why you don’t date military while in the military. It’s shit like this. It’s being told the person you love is fucking dead and now you’re the one left to pick up the pieces.

There wasn’t even a body. Vaporized is what they told him. Instant and painless. You felt nothing. It’s a small comfort, but John would rather have you in his arms than knowing you’re nothing more than atoms.

He sighs, and then puffs on his cigar. Smoke curls around him. It’s all quiet on base. Everyone is gone other than the routine patrol. John sits alone in his office, looking for files for an upcoming mission.

There’s a soft knock on is office door.

“Come in,” he says, not knowing who it might be but it must be important for it to be this late.

The door clicks and then creaks as it opens. John glances up, the cigar halfway to his mouth before the world around him completely stutters to a halt.

A phantom—a vaporized phantom—stands just inside, one hand on the doorknob. You are unharmed—clean. No scratches or wounds that John can see and wearing civilian clothing.

John is already standing, already moving, unable to resist the urge to remain in his chair and write this all off as a delusion. The cigar is forgotten, probably burning a hole in the wood of his desk. You match the forward momentum, shutting the office door, reaching out to him. When his arms go around you, and pull you in, John realizes that this is not an illusion. You are real and alive and here.

“You’re dead,” he murmurs, disbelief in his tone.

“I know. And I’m so sorry. It wasn’t—”

John grasps the back of your neck in a harsh hold, pulling you in for a kiss. He silences your voice, only needing your warmth and taste. You melt for him perfectly, answering the kisses with your own. With a gruff groan, John presses you up against the closed door.

“John,” you mumble, pulling back slightly.

“How are you here?”

“I’m sorry. We had to. It was the only way to extract me safely.”

John presses his forehead to yours, breathing you in. “Never again. Promise me.”

“Promise, John.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

One. Two. Three.

The seconds tick by, and still, Kyle refuses to move. For the last two weeks, Kyle has been cold and distant, sitting in the recliner in the corner of the living room.

He doesn’t read, doesn’t return the numerous missed calls and text messages, and he doesn’t turn on the television. He just sits, staring off into space, unable to figure out where his life will go next.

Why you? Why are you gone and not him?

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. You should be alive and whole and happy. You should be home, wrapped in Kyle’s arms.

Kyle sighs, running his hands over his face. An overwhelming wave of grief bubbles up, threatening to rip a sob from him. Leaning forward, Kyle rests his elbows on his knees, cradling his face in his hands. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. The wave crashes against his resolve, eroding some of the numbness.

The coffin is empty. No body to bury. He still hasn’t contacted your family. He can’t do it. Can’t face them. That fact that he is here and you are not is a failure on his part. Kyle promised that he’d look after you, and now you’re gone.

Around him, the air stirs—shifts. Kyle rubs at his face, sudden awareness slipping in. There’s an anticipation in it—a tension.

“Kyle.”

That voice. He knows that voice.

Shaking his head, Kyle keeps his face covered, his breathing becoming ragged.

“You’re not real,” he gasps.

Phantom fingers lightly brush across the back of palm, traveling to his wrist. Another set join them, and two warm hands gently wrap around his wrists. They tug, and Kyle surrenders, glancing up at the delusion his consciousness is creating.

Your smile is a beacon in the dark. It is everything he’s dreamed up these aching days, only wanting to see you again. And this is no dream, this is the waking world—reality. Somehow, you are standing before him, grasping his wrists, smiling down at him with such happiness that Kyle doesn’t entirely understand how this could be possible.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Kyle.”

He’s standing, wrapping you up in his arms. There is no mistake. You are here. You are here.

Kyle murmurs your name over and over again like a mantra. He touches you everywhere, needing to know that every inch of you is real and not a figment of his imagination. You curl against him, tears forming, threatening to fall and stain your cheeks. Kyle kisses them away, grasping the sides of your face to steal your breath.

You melt beneath him, and Kyle’s only desire is to keep you near him, to relearn your every moan and whisper. He can get answers later. Later. Right now, you are here, you have returned to him, and that is enough.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny made the choice, and now he has to live with the consequences.

It’s his own fault for caring about you, for deciding that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He should have found a civilian. That way they’d be mourning him and not him mourning you.

Three months and the missive still burns a hole in his chest. It’s folded up nicely, faded and worn from him unfolding and refolding it, tucked into an inside pocket beneath his bulletproof vest. It’s right over his heart. Right where you should be. Right where you belong.

The missive doesn’t belong to Johnny. It’s addressed to Captain Price, but the man handed it over to him, because he knew—even though Johnny did his best to hide it. He didn’t want to share what he had with you with anyone. That was just for the two of you.

“You all right, Soap?”

Simon’s voice cuts through the static.

“I’m aces, Lt. Don’t worry about me.”

The words feel false on Johnny’s tongue. He hates lying—but he especially hates lying to Simon.

Even behind the balaclava, Johnny can sense Simon’s frown. But the big bloke says nothing, appearing content with his answer.

“Price wants you in Conference Room B.”

“Now?” asks Johnny. “We’re supposed to transfer out in a few.”

Simon shrugs. “He didn’t say much. Just said he needed to talk to you before we leave.”

Johnny sighs but he goes, patting Simon’s arm before jogging to one of the main buildings. It’s inconvenient—and Price could have just met him on the fucking tarmac.

“What do you need, Captain?” says Johnny, pushing open the door.

Captain Price stands just inside the doorway. And he’s not alone.

At first, Johnny doesn’t understand. It’s like all but one singular bulb has been extinguished, the remaining light illuminating the one ghost in the room. Because that’s what you are. A ghost. Unreal and ethereal. Not reality at all but a simple hope in the back of Johnny’s mind that has finally blossomed into delusion.

“Soap.” Price’s voice is gruff. He sighs and then takes a step away from you. “I’ll leave the two of you to it.”

He brushes past Johnny, lightly squeezing his shoulder as he makes his exit.

And Johnny does not move. He stands in the doorway like a bloody git, unable to understand how you’re standing before him.

You’re dead. You’re supposed to be dead.

Your smile is hesitant at first, your movements even more so. It’s a tentative walk to him, and you don’t touch, you only gaze at him, eagerness and hope in your eyes.

“Johnny,” you breathe, and he knows that voice.

So crisp and clear and real.

Johnny reaches out, and pinches. He pinches your arms, your waist, your cheeks.

“Ow,” you laugh. “What the hell?”

You are not cold, but warm. Solid.

Johnny laughs in disbelief. “Had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

Your arms go around him and suddenly, like a firework bursting with color, Johnny is happy and whole.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shuts the front door and frowns.

Whenever Simon comes home, Bravo always greets him. The all-black German Shepherd is a singular ball of energy, turning in quick circles and tap tap tapping his paws against the hardwood in anticipation of back scratches and belly rubs.

For the past week, Bravo’s presence has been the one bright thing, the only bit of happiness keeping Simon going. The rest of it was snatched from him, torn apart and shattered, scattered to the wind. The letter is tucked inside the drawer of the bedside table. He only read it once. And once was enough.

You are dead. That’s what the letter says anyway. And it infuriates him more than anything. Every mission you’ve ever been on has been with Simon. Except this last one. And on this last one, you did not come home.

“Bravo!” shouts Simon, dropping his keys in the designated spot next to the front door.

Removing his coat, he hangs it up, and then kicks off his sneakers. Sighing loudly, Simon heads down the hall but Bravo does not emerge. Simon pokes his head into the living room and finds no dog. Kitchen, and still nothing. He even checks the backyard. No Bravo.

As Simon turns into the bedroom, he comes to an abrupt halt.

There’s Bravo on the bed, and sitting on the edge—

“You—”

You hold the letter in your hands, attention turning to Simon as he enters. Standing quickly, you extend the arm holding the letter while you bring a singular finger to your lips, implying silence.

Simon’s stomach flips, and then twists quickly. He moves across the room a couple strides, grasping your waist and pulling you close. He says nothing, only searching your face as you keep that finger pressed to your lips.

You flip the letter over to the blank side.

Compromised.

Everything clicks into place. Either you faked your death or someone lied.

Simon cups the side of your face as you drop your finger away from your lips. His mouth replaces, tasting and seeking, wanting to remember. You open for him, accepting it all. His hands tighten on your waist and it takes every ounce of Simon’s control to not throw you onto the bed and rut like an untamed beast.

But he does refrain.

Simon has the car loaded and the alarm system armed in ten minutes. Even on the road, Simon doesn’t speak. He’s not sure if he can. All he does is keep his hand on your thigh, squeezing tightly, attempting to ground himself and keep his focus on the road.

At the safehouse, Bravo takes off, running through the tall grass as you and Simon enter the barn through a small side door. The moment the bags are dropped onto the floor, Simon is on you, fisting your clothes, tugging at them in a need to seem them gone.

“Simon,” you groan against his mouth.

He wants answers. He needs to know what happened. But reconnecting with you is far more urgent.

“After,” he begs. “Please.”

You nod, understanding.

The two of shed your clothes quickly, falling onto the sofa in a tangled heap. Simon’s hand delves between, fingers finding your arousal. You’re ready for him—just as eager as he his. He makes no gentle effort, just a quick thrusts until he’s in to the hilt. Your brief gasp is swallowed up by his mouth, tongue delving inside for a taste as he starts to thrust.

This is what he needs. More than anything.

Talking can come after.

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[justkitkatthings]

I know this isn’t possible but just HEAR ME OUT A SEC

Okay, so what if Simon wasn’t the first lieutenant Price chose to join the Task Force? There was one before him. Like, you’re there for a few years before getting medically discharged, but everyone still talks about you and misses you like crazy when Simon joins in your place. Price, Johnny, and Kyle don’t even realize they’re comparing Simon to the old lieutenant until he gets really pissed off one day and asks them to explain themselves.

Which lowkey makes it worse because they’re just raving about you for hours to a fuming Simon until he finally demands to meet you if you’re so great.

And when he does he finally understands why, because you’re just a sweet little thing with a prosthetic leg and he just wants to care for you.

But you were a lieutenant! You don’t need help. You lost a leg, not your hands, you can do it yourself.

Of course that mindset doesn’t carry over to the rest of the task force. If you can’t reach something, you can count on Johnny, Kyle, and Price. If your stump hurts or is uncomfortable from your prosthetic, one of the boys is immediately getting out of their chair or even carrying you to stop the pain. Whatever you need, bonnie, darling, luvie.

Idk just something about leaving Simon out and him being kind of jealous and kind of sad because why does no one ever want him around?

[piggycyberwarrior]

Summary: After Task Force 141 got a hint that you gave important information to their enemy- the boys do not hesitate to chain you up and give you a taste of hell. You on the other hand are innocent but they do not believe you

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Platonic Task Force 141! x Fem!Reader (Simon Ghost Riley x Reader) a/n: pretty proud of that ngl.. enjoy guys love you!

Warnings: uhm this whole fic is basically a warning. Torture; Blood; Mental Health; Angst angst angst not proof read

genre: ANGST

+ 1,6k words

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6

You thought you were going insane.

Maybe you already were, but it was no suprise- seeing the circumstances you were in. Arms stretched uncomfortably backwards and up- chains rubbing your wrists painfully raw. The stress position Soap put you in wasn't easy peasy lemonsqueezy.

Tears brimming in your eyes at the thought. You felt fucking betrayed. You were fucking betrayed, for gods sake! by your own team- the people you cried with- the people that you loved more than yourself- the people you called your family. That one man you took a bullet for.

Fuck all that bullshit.

Those were the same people that didn't believe you when things got rocky. When some pricks pointed their fingers at you- they immediately treated you as an enemy. The same people that chained you up. The same man that made you fucking blind on one eye

Everything was a lie, apparently.

The cell you were in was shady- you didn't expect something different- i mean you just served the military for many years and did everything for your country- of course you didn't deserve something more decent.

In the end you didn't care. Just waited.

When Gaz interrogated you- you kept your mouth shut. What should you do? Lie? Fuck no, you had so much self respect left, even in this dehumanizing situation.

of course your facade broke often times- you were only human after all. And it hurt- you were in this situation before- tortured by your enemies knowing that you would probably outlive them anyway as your team would rip them apart in a few days.

But now- being here- seeing how your 'friends'- your family- spat at you with nothing more than hate made you feel even more miserable- knowing, that no one will safe you this time.

You cried- having panick attacks deep into countless nights-being triggered by any small sound that wasn't coming from you or that rat in the corner of the room. Yelling at them- telling them that you didn't do shit. They didn't believe you.

Spiraling deep in your thoughts- shoulders sore and numb hands from the stress position- still tasting a faint trace of your own blood-

the sensory of the dried up blood on your cheek was uncomfortable at the beginning- cracking everytime you opened your mouth- but it quickly got kicked to the bottom of your worries as Price's wodden bat flew into your face yesterday- tooth flying onto the ground as you spat the crimson liquid at his feet- earning another strike from your Captain.

Your Saliva turning pink with the blood, sticking to your chin- slowly dripping down- having no free hand to wipe it off.

.

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.

You were here for about 1 and a half weeks now- how'd you know that? because you could hear the guards mutter something behind that steal door.

You shivered, suffering from hypothermia, a consequence of being almost naked in this shithole. Simon himself stripped you down- ignoring your pleas and protests.

Simon.

The man you did everything for, took a bullet for, cared for and slept with. He was the love of your life- or so you thought.

You were never scared of Simon. Since the first day you met him- you were kinda drawn to that giant of a man. Always spawning in his near with hearts in your eyes- Soap always made fun of you- but he found it cute neverthless, he could see that Simon didn't hate you.

You stitched him up- knew his fears (being a therapists daughter was quite a help for having deep convos), you knew of his past- even if it took you years to finally break his many iron walls down

You saw his face- kissed his scars and showered him with your time and love- giving him your all- even your body.

You weren't in a relationship- but everybody knew that Simon 'Ghost' Riley liked you. Even if you didn't tell anybody from the Force.

In the end it seemed not be enough, as the same man nearly strangled you to death down here. At first you were desperate, scared- but you stopped pleading a long time ago.

.

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.

heavy footsteps shook you out of your trance- spiraling thoughts stopping for a mere second as you looked into his stone cold eyes.

Balaklava on his scarred face- making you inhale sharply- heart throbbing at his sight. The black paint around his eyes made them pierce through the dark even more.

The same paint you applied more than once onto his unique face. he looked beautiful in your eyes. Even after everything that happened.

You're in here since a few nights.- Clothes starting to hang loosely around your body- having not eaten in days.

"Simon-" you croaked out- voice not cooperating as it should- making you tear up. When did everything turned out to be like that? This nightmare? You flinched a bit- chains clinking softly at your slight movement when he came towards you- still not speaking.

He stared. Stared at your weak frame. The dark hole you were chained into- being in a constant state of fear- Anxiety pulling and clawing at your nerves.

You gritted your teeth- looking to the side with a defeated huff. Tears prickling in your eyes once more- threatening to fall as he watched you like you were a kicked stray dog. Maybe you were in their eyes.

"I-" you croaked out once more "I didn't do it, Simon, i swear" you whispered into the dimmly lit room- Still not looking at him. "I swear to god Simon, I didn't.." you weeped in silence as he just looked "Fuck why should I betray you!!" you screamed in frustration at his figure- tears falling as he only left- leaving you in complete darkness- letting you cry to yourself till you eventually passed out.

.

Not even two day passed before he bursted through the iron door again- the loud sound ripping you out of your unconsciousness before he angrily grabbed you by your collar- hate flickering in those eyes that once held nothing but adoration for you.

"You fuckin' liar" he seethed through gritted teeth- behind that mask. Pushing you into the wall behind you- your head knocking against the brick wall with such a force that made you wince.

You could feel his anger. And you felt the danger that radiated from the man you gave your heart to.

His hands coming up to press against your jugular with a firm grip- picking you up a few inches into the air- chains clinking again. "Y'think you hav' it in you to lie into my fuckin' face" he growled while pressing down harder- you could feel yourself getting more lightheaded- gasping for air- choking for oxygen.

"Plea' Simon" you begged inbetween small gasps- scared what he will do to you. Hands tied together, wiggling in his painful hold like a suffocating fish- legs kicking to get him away from you- it worked- you gasped, trying to get in as much air as you could while your built up saliva ran down your chin-

he let you go for a second before his fist collided with your face. Hard- knocking the air out of your lungs once more "Jus' tell us the truth" he huffed, before hitting again- at first it hurt and then it burned. Your nose cracked under his fists-

Making you see stars and breath heavily before he took the knife out you gifted him for his birthday. Both your names engraved in it-

"'t will be easier for you" he said before popping the knife out of its sheath. "No, Simon" you cried out- whilst seeing the blade. "You don't have to do this" you gasped as he came dangerously close.

"No,no,no!!" you protested as he teared down your clothing, leaving you in a bra and your underwear. Feeling helpless as he teared down your clothes- ignoring your protest. The coldness of the room let goosebumps arise on your skin almost immediately.

He was quiet. That wasn't a good sign. You waited- staring at him, pulling at your chains as he looked at the blade. Fist tightening as he saw the little heart that was engraved into the hilt. Betrayal flushed his senses as he pushed the knife into your upper leg- making you scream in return.

Twisting the knife- hearing your agony but not stopping- he quickly hit you into your left eye socket with the hilt of the knife to shut you up. he didn't want to hear your screams.

Even if he didn't wanted to admit it- he was also teared apart- but his need to let his anger out was stronger - all the time he spent with a fucking liar- gave you his fucked up heart. All for you to be a fucking snake- a traitor.

He had to do his job- protect his family.

Another jab to the eye- hearing your muffled cries echo across the room- making you see red- the burning sensation was an ugly one. You couldn't see on that eye anymore.

"I fuckin' wish I could just kill you" he seethed before leaving you there in the dark- all beat up and bloody- head throbbing and surely a broken nose- making it hard to breath.

.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

.

You waited since then. Waiting for death to come. Waiting for Ghost to end it- but of course he never came back since then. Your wounds were starting to inflame- everything hurt and burned. Your eye swelling almost shut.

They all tortured you. Johnny, Kyle, John and Simon.

But they forgot something important. You were known for being patient. A fucking patient and stubborn woman. You waited. Yes you sometimes protested, and kicked and screamed and insulted them- but you neverthless waited for the day.

The day they finally see that they wronged an innocent. The day you would hurt them. Seek revenge.

Fucking. Revenge.

-

!please do reblog! :)

join the Taglist here (Taglist post)

[v1x3n]

SHOWER TIME ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - angst - nightmare mention, hospital setting, scars, depression, neglect.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

After being taken to the infirmary, your body had uncontrollably decided to take a long sleep, your dreams full of the terrors your best friends had caused you. Your dreams reminisce on the before, on the time where everything was okay, the time where you had a friend group and your job was going well. But that had to end, didn't it? 

Nothing good could ever happen to you. 

Waking up, you don't even know how long you slept for, you discover your bandages on your body changed. Still bloody but they were fresh material, you were in new clothes - well clothes. Head goes dizzy when you look around the room, taking in everything you could see. The high white walls with no decoration, the window that you could look out from on your so-called bed, the cream curtains that hung but were swept to the side - bringing in bright light from the outdoors. The outdoors, something you hadn't seen in what, a month? You couldn't remember anymore. You felt disoriented, angry yet also sad. You felt every fucking emotion you didnt have time to feel during the attacks, all at once. Eyebrows squeezing together, looking to the side of your sheets, a small wooden chair was placed there. After gulping you peek at the table next to your bed, there was also a sink in the corner. Usual hospital room, tv and two doors, one leading out into the hallways and one to a bathroom. And that was that. 

There was one thing that made your heart furious though, an arrangement of colourful flowers, wrapped in a light pink ribbon sat on the table beside you. Frowning as you peer at the beautiful petals you look away, they ruined you, ruined your body, your life and all they give you is fucking flowers? You knew it was one of them, you had not built that much of a relationship with anyone else and they were your favourite flowers. Only the 141 knew your favourites, cheap fucking way of saying sorry. You hadn't even heard the words come out from any of their mouths yet, fucking pathetic. enraged, angry, furious and irritated were only some of the words you were feeling. 

Soon it had been a week, lay in that stupid fucking room. At Least you had met a few people, you met a few nurses who came by to feed you, check up on you and help your wounds. And you had met a patient in the room next to yours, he was sweet towards you, you never spoke to him though. He did most of the talking, his name was Logan and honestly in the week you had known him for - he was growing on you. He came by everyday, he was very nosy though, very extroverted. Luckily he never demanded answers from you, he always spoke, sometimes you would reply with a shrug or a small nod. You couldn't tell if he had heard about what happened to you though, he never touched you and he was always so gentle, dunno. Maybe he was just nice.

Scars were left all over your form, a healing cut on your cheek that wouldn't take that long to fix - just a very quick and painful stitch up!, your legs just starting to become responsive, rope marks dug in your skin from how tightly they displayed you on that cold pole. 

Drugged up on antibiotics wasn't the best feeling, you had a few infected wounds down your body, the one on your lower womb was ugly. It looked diabolical, but luckily you were on many pills so life is okay! Looking down at your hands, the missing fingers was just another example of the pain the four caused you. 

Just when you were about to spew tears from your tear ducts, a light shadow covered you. When did he come in? 

Your captain sat on the wooden chair beside you, he didn't speak, just looked down at his raggy boots. You were glad he didn't speak, but deep down you kind of wanted him too because this was far too awkward. Glaring down at your lap, you refused to speak to him, just as you tried to turn around the door swings open. The nurse you were closest to walks in and sees the two of you. The obvious tension floods the air, flowing out the open door when Jane starts talking, “morning, honey” she smiles and takes slow steps up to you. 

You dont reply. 

“We need t’ get you into the shower” she mumbles to you, peeling off the sheets that covered your battered body. You were ashamed that the nurse had to physically get you up and take you to the shower but your legs just wouldn't cooperate with you. A twisted and healing ankle paired with weak legs and then on top of that the depression that comes along with all of this summed up too being unable to help yourself up. You couldn't do anything for yourself, they tore you limp by limp and now you weren't the strong soldier you were before. All thanks to them. “Okay” a light voice sounds from you through a sigh, almost whispering, not wanting that fucking man next to you get the pleasure of hearing your voice. Letting the nurse help you get out of the bed, Jane looks down at your form, your skin and your trauma.

“Healing well, hm? Did nurse poppy give you your pills this morning?” Jane asks, tilting your head up gently to take a look at the slight slit on your throat. When the man right next to you was about to end your life.

What is the saying? Each scar tells a story but every story leaves a car. Something like that.

Nodding at the nurse's question makes the corners of her lips twerk up into a small yet genuine smile, “good, now let's get you up, hm?” you could almost feel john's eyes burning into you while the nurse helps you get up, your weak limbs drop as you stand on your feet, jane instantly gripping you and jolting you back up, an arm wrapped around you to help you walk. 

You were thankful for the nurses, obviously they knew what had happened and they were nothing but gentle and sweet with you, they never tried to do anything that would trigger you and knew to check up on you, make sure you were eating, drinking, sleeping and things like brushing your teeth and showering. You felt kind of useless. Not  being able to do anything for yourself but it wasn't exactly your fault though was it? 

Jane took you towards the bathroom and Price still just kind of sat there, in your hospital room - staring at your bed.

“You can do it yourself, yeah?” Jane helps you sit on the lip of the toilet seat, the bathroom was sterile and white. The smell of bleach attacked your nose, you looked at the shower. The shower head pours down water at a fast pace when the woman in front of you turns the knob around, you almost flinch at the sound of the water hitting the shower floor. “C'mon” she mumbles, taking your arm to help you limp into the shower, as soon as the water hits you - you flinch. Taking in an old memory, instantly you back up to the wall, “i-i can't” you shake, gulping down, staring at the dropping water splattering over the floor. Breath picking up as you breathe in harshly, “i cant - i cant” you repeat as if the nurse hadn't heard you, she quickly leans over to grab the sponge that was placed under the shower head, she places it in your hand, “its okay, honey, don't worry.” jane coos while you shake, “you don't gotta, just scrub yourself down outside the shower, you don't have t’ go in if you can't” 

Thank god for this sweet woman. After nodding she leaves you to your own devices.

Taking a glance at the shower and then down at your sponge, you sigh. How could you let yourself become this pathetic. A panic scares you when you hear sounds coming from outside the bathroom door, a deep voice which was so obviously johns then a softer voice which you would only match it to janes.

“Is she okay?” Jane's ears picked up John's voice, still sitting on the wooden chair but he was facing the bathroom door. “You know they dont want you here” she states, walking past him to clean up your sheets. 

“I needed to see them.” All Jane does is sigh, “they can't see you right now, i understand it's hard but it's harder for her” john looks down at his boots, in  defeat. Closing his eyes and biting his tongue, this was hard for him - it was hard for everyone. 

All of the 141 missed you, missed talking to you, seeing you and missed their relationship with you. No one knew how to go about the situation, nobody knew what to do. How to make it right, how to make it the same as before. They all just thought; they didn't know what else to do, they all thought it was you and the signs pointed to you. 

The job is ugly, it's disgusting, that's what it is.but there's nothing they can do about it, it's all a part of the job.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Hey guys the Worms are coming back so I’m having thoughts,

tw: a/b/o dynamics, major angst no aftercare, panic attacks, past abuse, military

I love the stories where the 141 (in a/b/o context) are all alphas or a mix, but I also haven’t seen much of them being all omegas, which I think would really make sense.

Imagine it, omegas are more sensitive to their surroundings I think, with sharper instincts and reaction time imo, and they’re probably smaller than the stereotypical alpha so they can move faster. They can stay relatively calm under pressure and suppressants deal with the issue of a heat. I’ve always more imagined the 141 as four omegas, but four that stand out, and are used to criticism from people not in the military that don’t understand their team bonds.

So imagine they one day get news of a new transfer onto their team (maybe replacing soap as he’s recovering from his bullet wound HES NOT DEAD MW3 NEVER HAPPENED) and they’re not worried until they’re told it’s an alpha. An American alpha, too, if I let this get really self indulgent. Americans are loud and proud and annoying, so they fear the worst, you could throw off their team bonds, or make fun of them, or mess up their missions, etc, etc.

But in this imaginary world imagine that omegas also have more societal power than alphas, not physical power though, and you happened to be a victim of alpha-abuse. So what if the alpha that comes is shockingly quiet despite your imposing height and strength, and even looks nervous. The 141 would be absolutely ready for a brawl, I think, scents stinking up the room, only for you to stiffen as your nose stings from the potent mix of scents.

They’d observe you the entire time of the initial scenting, your stiff posture, uncomfortable behavior, and most of all the odd texture and scarring of your scent gland on your neck. Not unusual in your line of work.

After that, they made it clear you were an afterthought.

They wouldn’t let you get them food in the mess, or let you enter their shared nesting area, or even linger in Price’s office. If you covered them on a mission they’d nip at you or give you little low growls. They didn’t like the change to it, having to adjust, or just wanted to prove that they didn’t need an alpha, especially not to replace Soap.

You were trying. You knew you had to work your ass off for their respect and trust, and you were trying so hard. They didn’t seem to care.

Before they’d met you, they’d never thought that an alpha could have anything similar to a distress, nothing even close to the physical and psychological damage and pure stress someone had to be put through to reach that point. That was, until, one day when Ghost yanked you down to his scent gland to take a whiff when you ask how he covers the gunpowder from missions in his scent (spoiler: he doesn’t) and you just completely…freak out.

Shoving him away, eyes wide and looking through him, heart rate and breathing too fast. You’d absolutely booked it to your lone, sterile room that was the opposite of their cozy nest. It had taken a good hour just for Price and the rest to drag a medic and find out what the hell was wrong, only for you to be diagnosed with “Cane Baker Condition”,

“It’s, essentially, a form of PTSD related to a secondary gender, or experiences with one in a negative light. Think like a panic attack that lasts until their body is convinced they’re safe. Keep them out of bright light, away from loud noises or anything triggering for them, and give them some recognizable items from the nest, and they’ll snap out of it.”

It was then that they’d realized you had no recognizable items. Because they’d not let you even have a chance to enter their nest, and here they were now. You, lying underneath your piss poor bed in a pitch black room with one blanket in a sad mockery of a nest for comfort, getting as close to a panicked whimper that an alpha could between every breath.

Now they had to figure out how to earn your trust and respect, especially after they’d given absolutely none to you, neglected and abused you, for weeks.

should I make this a series?? (midterms are almost over so I’ll be more active soon, so far I’ve passed all of them!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

[gomzdrawfr]

Merry Christmas!! they're exchanging gifts by the tree :3