#like without him we are just a fuckin Disaster

[hazbinhotei]

the devil's note.

warnings/tags: jazz singer!reader, alastor only has like one line of dialogue in this lol

word count: 2793

summary: As a talented and enchanting jazz singer, your performance turns personal when your bold teasing leaves the Radio Demon speechless.

alastor x f!reader. thank you to the anon who requested this story! guess who's back!~ so... i haven't uploaded in 10 days. i think you are all due for an apology, but i hope swear i'm not giving up on this account so quickly, so hopefully more uploads come along soon! i have many part two concepts in my head (including this story)—but the question is if i can write it all out before life gets to me. enjoy!

The day had started with one of Angel Dust’s usual antics—a grand proclamation over breakfast, fork twirling in hand, eyes glinting with flamboyant mischief.

"Alright, listen up, bitches! I got somethin’ special planned for tonight, and no, Vaggie, it ain't one of my 'educational' excursions, so don’t get your panties in a twist!" He waved a pink-gloved hand as if to ward off her immediate disapproval, grinning as he leaned back in his chair. "I’m talkin’ class, I'm talkin’ style, I'm talkin’ one of the best damn voices to ever grace the depths of Hell."

Vaggie narrowed her right eye, sitting up as she glanced at Charlie beside her. "This isn’t another one of your weird ‘bonding activities,’ is it? Like—like that time you tried to get us to go to a ‘How-to-Moan’ class?"

Angel scoffed. "Okay, that was one time, and I still think it woulda been fun!” He huffed, shaking his head to dismiss his previous rejected suggestion. “But no, babe, this is different! I got this girlfriend performing tonight, the kinda doll that could sing the socks off of any demon. Total smoke show, like an absolute bombshell—think old Hollywood but with a fuckin' bite!"

Vaggie sighed, leaning forward on the table, her forehead dropping into her hand. "This is gonna be a disaster, isn't it?"

Charlie bit down on her lower lip, hesitating before curiosity won out. She rubbed a hand over Vaggie's back, consoling her girlfriend as she asked, "What kind of venue?"

"A jazz club!" Angel declared, tossing his upper arms up with a twirl. "Live music, good booze, and a vibe that ain't total chaos—betcha didn’t expect that from me, huh?"

That immediately caught Alastor’s (previously devoid) attention, ears flickering up as his half-lidded eyes opened up. His usual grin stretched just a fraction wider with newfound interest. "A jazz club, you say?" His voice was light, laced with curiosity, a lilting note of intrigue threading through each syllable. "Now that sounds like a lovely way to spend an evening."

Charlie’s attention snapped to Alastor, ecstatic to see him actually interested in a group bonding activity for once. She immediately whipped her head back to Vaggie, who merely groaned in response to her partner’s current puppy-dog expression. Vaggie only sighed once more, pursing her lips. “Fine, we can go.”

And just like that, the deal was sealed.

The moment the doors swung open to The Devil’s Note, a sultry jazz bar nestled in the heart of Pentagram City, the group was automatically enveloped in a haze of warm, dim light and the slow, hypnotic strum of a double bass. The scent of whiskey and aged cigars wove through the air, mingling with the perfume of debauchery and whispered secrets.

Velvet drapes cascaded from the ceiling like blood-red waterfalls, framing mahogany walls adorned with vintage jazz posters and golden sconces that flickered with an otherworldly glow. A grand chandelier loomed above, its many crystal facets casting fractured light across the glossy black floors.

Husk barely had a moment to process the room before a passing server—impeccably dressed in a maroon vest and black bow tie—wordlessly handed him a fresh glass of whiskey. He took it without hesitation, grunting in approval before muttering, "Yeah. This place ain't half bad."

Vaggie, arms crossed and brow furrowed, took a slow, assessing look around before finally conceding, "This is… surprisingly nice."

Angel Dust twirled, four arms outstretched as he breathed it all in. "I know, right? Y’all thought I was gonna drag ya to some sleazy strip joint, huh? Give me some credit!" He leaned against Husk, smirking as Husk coughed mid-sip from the sudden movement. "Even whiskers over here is enjoying himself."

Charlie, expression starry with admiration, nodded vigorously. "I wasn’t expecting something this elegant! It’s like stepping into another era."

And yet, amidst all the chatter and appreciation, Alastor stood eerily still. His smile remained, but his gaze told a different story—nostalgia. He surveyed the space with an unsettling kind of familiarity, his fingers ghosting over the back of a chair as though touching a memory brought to life. The phonograph in the corner crackled softly beneath the low hum of conversation. The brass instruments glinted under dim golden light, polished and pristine. Authentic.

He inhaled steadily, deep and deliberate. "Now, this," he murmured, voice almost reverent, "is a proper establishment."

And with that, the group was ushered to a candle-lit table near the stage, where they settled into a plush, curved leather booth, sipping on devilishly strong drinks while Angel Dust gleefully droned on about how they were in for a real treat. Niffty bounced excitedly beside him, her tiny hands gripping the table as she took in every detail, while Husk, already halfway through his second drink, merely grunted in pacified patience. Vaggie remained reserved but intrigued next to an energetic Charlie who was practically vibrating with elation at the sight of the entire group together in an area that wasn’t the hotel. 

Even Alastor quieted his usual accompanying static, a sign of respect for the Hellborn jazz band on stage. His glowing eyes flickered about the place, his smile satisfied as he tapped along to the beat with a clawed thumb. He had been prepared for tacky, garish decor, for a club that spat on the essence of true jazz. But this—this felt like a whisper from the past, an echo of something he once knew. The deep thrum in his chest from the bass, the filtered wah-wah notes of the trumpet, the sharp keys from the piano—it was real.

His head began bobbing in time with the beat, and before long, he was humming—low, rich, an effortless accompaniment to the imps filling the room with old-world soul. His foot, ever so slightly, tapped along with the rhythm in addition to his thumb. It was a rare sight—Alastor, not just half-assed listening, but feeling the music, letting it settle into him like it was a life source.

Charlie, observing him from behind, leaned toward Vaggie with a hushed whisper. "He looks… natural like this. Like he belongs here."

Angel grinned as he overheard the princess’ words, twirling the stem of his glass between his fingers. "Ain’t seen nothin’ yet, toots." His mismatched eyes twinkled, delight bubbling just beneath his tone. "Just wait ‘til the real show starts."

As if on cue, the lights began to dim. A few guests around the club perked up, their murmurs laced with anticipation. The energy in the room shifted as a golden spotlight shined on the center of the stage, buzzing quietly with unspoken thrill.

A hush fell over the crowd as the jazz band eased into a rich, sultry melody, the notes weaving through the air like smoke curling from the end of a cigarette. The suspense in the room was palpable, some guests shifting forward in their seats, their low whispers betraying excitement. Then, as if answering their call, a graceful silhouette stepped into the soft light, emerging from the shadows.

You.

Draped in liquid satin, the deep emerald fabric of your gown clung to your curves like it had been painted on, the thigh-high slit revealing glimpses of silk stockings as you moved. Diamond earrings kissed your neck, sparkling under the spotlight, while a matching necklace sat snug at your throat, a glittering noose of old money elegance. Every inch of you screamed dangerously expensive, an untouchable femme fatale gracing Hell with her presence.

The moment your ruby lips curled into a relaxed, sly smile, the room seemed to exhale all at once—entranced, bewitched. Every step you took was intentional, high heels clicking softly against the stage as you moved with the languid finesse of a panther on the prowl. The mic stand welcomed the brush of your fingers, cool metal against your skin, and for a brief moment, you let the silence stretch—letting them wait, letting them want as you surveyed the crowd with bated breath.

Then—

You sang.

A voice like silk and sin, rich with the kind of confidence that came from knowing the effect you had. The song had started off with a bang, your voice powerful as you rang out the first electrifying note—long, steady, and clear proof of your skill. Your opening riff dripped with seduction, wrapping around the room like a velvet ribbon. Conversations hushed. All eyes were on you. 

Even Alastor’s.

He sat unnaturally still, red eyes burning like embers, fingers tightening around the glass of whiskey in his hand. His ever-present smile had not faltered, and yet, there was something in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his ears twitched as if trying to resist the very essence of your voice. His chest felt tight with a new emotion he could not quite place, his mind suddenly empty of all other thoughts as he watched you sway on stage.

The musicians followed in suit once you sang the opening, the floor vibrating as the swell of jazz rolled through the room like thunder dipped in honey. Every instrument answered your voice like a well-trained lover—sharp when you snapped, soft when you slinked. You didn’t just sing; you prowled, you played, you performed. Your hips moved with the rhythm, and every gesture was a magnetic force of perfected deliberation. Notes curved out of you like smoke rings, leaving the room hanging on every breath.

As the final note lingered in the air, a wave of applause rippled through the audience. To Angel's excitement, his group all seemed to be giving signs of approval. Charlie and Niffty were clapping fervently, and even the usual impassive faces of Vaggie and Husk were now adorned with impressed expressions. And Alastor… He clapped too—but it was precise, calculated. Each movement measured, restrained, as his eyes smoldered with sudden intensity.

Angel leaned back, throwing an arm over the back of the booth, grinning smugly at the group. “Ain’t she great?” he drawled, clearly reveling in their reactions.

As the applause settled, you bowed elegantly, sending a charming smile to the crowd. “Enjoy your night at The Devil’s Note, darlings. There’s more where that came from—so stay tuned.”

The small crowd applauded a second time, your band picking up the beat once more as the lights cleared just slightly for an intermission. In the downtime, you spotted Angel in the crowd, a flicker of recognition lighting up your expression as you stepped down from the stage. You snaked towards their booth with effortless grace, the attention of a few Sinners lingering on you as you passed their tables to get to your good friend.

“Angel!” you called out, sliding up beside him as he beamed at you. “You always know how to gather an…”—You glanced at the motley crew, blinking in surprise as you took in his choice of accompanies tonight—”interesting crowd.”

He wrapped his upper arms around you, hugging you tightly as he gestured to the group with a free hand. “Doll, meet my weird-ass roommates. We got Charlie, she’s the princess—yeah, that princess. Vaggie, her overprotective watchdog. Husk—he’s grumpy but I promise he’s warming up to me.”

Husk snorted. “Not in a million years.”

Angel waved him off, continuing down the line. “That’s Niffty, she’s a firecracker, and last but definitely the freakiest—Alastor, ya know, the Radio Demon.”

After greeting each member individually, your gaze finally landed on the Sinner across from you, who sat ever so still in the curved booth, his grin wide as you both studied each other. You hummed softly when you met his red eyes, glowing with something akin to curiosity. You had heard of the Radio Demon in passing conversations throughout your time in Hell, but you had never expected him to be such a… dapper fellow.

He was dressed in a crimson pinstripe suit, essentially blending in seamlessly with the aesthetic of the club. The sharp cut of his jacket accentuated his tall frame, and the dark shadows surrounding him only seemed to grow in the candlelight, casting an eerie silhouette behind him. You almost had to hold back a laugh at the odd addition of two tiny prongs of antlers jutting between his large red ears—an unexpectedly cute detail that clashed comically with the otherwise pristine 1930s vibe he was going for. Something in his expression, the way his grip tensed around the glass at the way you watched him, made your brow lift in amusement. He studied you in return not with disdain, nor indifference, but with something far more interesting—contemplation. It made the hair on the back of your neck stick up; how thrillingly dangerous.

You leaned in slowly, purposeful, your elbow hitting the table as you rested your chin against your palm. You let the tension stretch, your head tilting as your charming smile morphed into a wide smirk. His watching eyes only seemed to track your every move, his body tensing slightly as if he were waiting for an attack. Then, with a teasing, sensual tone, you tilted your head and purred—

“You seem uncomfortable. Do I make you nervous?”

A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes, stunned into silence by your words. His ears shot straight up, blinking several times at you as if he couldn’t believe what you just said. The rest of the group seemed equally shocked by your bold move—both Charlie’s and Vaggie’s jaws dropped at your provocative comment as Husk merely took a long, slow sip of his drink to hide his amused smirk at Alastor's dumbfounded expression.

A second of quiet tension passed before Angel burst into laughter, cackling loudly. “Toots, you’ve seriously got a death wish! Fuckin’ flirting with the Radio Demon—I swear I’ve never met a gal as crazy as you!”

You turned back to the spider beside you, grinning deviously as his arm around your shoulder shook with every guffaw. “Please, I’m only teasing.” You couldn’t help but chuckle alongside Angel, shaking your head as you turned back to look at the rest of the table. “But seriously, I’m glad to have you folks here. Any friend of Angel’s is a friend of mine, so enjoy your time here.”

You backed out of the booth smoothly, gesturing for a passing waiter to bring a fresh round of colorful refreshments to the table. Angel lit up like he’d just witnessed the second coming, beaming at you with pure reverence for the free alcohol. You rolled your eyes with a smirk, giving his shoulder a playful push that made him giggle like a schoolgirl.

As the rest of the group oohed and aahed over the new drinks being set before them, you turned to take your leave—gown swaying around you—but not without one final glance over your shoulder. 

While the others were distracted by the sudden liquor, Alastor’s staring remained fixed on you, unmoving and unblinking. You met his gaze, letting your lashes lower just so. Then, with all the poise of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing, you winked slowly… and blew him a kiss.

His smile snarled, revealing black gums—just for a moment—before your eyes caught the sharp bob of his Adam’s apple in an involuntary gulp. You glanced down at his free hand on the table, his red claws leaving a few scuff marks on the polished mahogany wood. You only huffed a laugh, shaking your head as you turned forward once more.

“For the Radio Demon, you don’t seem to be quite the talker!”

You were met with a sudden burst of radio static, the lamps above you flickering in tandem. You heard a few gasps from the group before Angel’s recognizable laughter rang out once more, wheezing even harder than before. Smirking, you continued on without looking back, sending a fluttering wave to the group behind you.

You ascended the stage once more, your heels clicking against the familiar wooden stage. The imp at the piano glanced back at the commotion, eyes darting between you and the table with a questioning brow, but you snapped your fingers lightly, calling him back to focus. He simply nodded and turned back to the keys.

As you reached for the mic again, you glanced once more toward the table—and found Alastor watching you. His menacing smile remained, tight and strained like a mask held too long. When you both made eye contact, his right eye twitched. You bit your lip, a coy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, whether that be from your clear effect on the Sinner or the dangerous thrill starting to blossom in your stomach.

Only one thought rang through your mind as you stepped into the spotlight, the music swelling behind you, the room holding its breath once more to hear your voice:

This will be fun.

tag list: @railgunuzi @frompiscium @rose-in-blue @catticora @milkissesx [want to join/be removed from the tag list? check my pinned post!]

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Mind Games (2)

Direct cntinuation to Mind games (til we lose control) (takes place before lost time)

Ben/Soldier Boy X Supe!Fem!reader

Summary: Herogasm proves to be a disaster for everyone involved, but at least you and Ben still have each other at the end of the night. Takes places during the Herogasm episode but like I did my own shit

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it mfs), p in v, shower sex (pls don't try to recreate this, SB has super strength, your man does not, you might break sum), oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, dom!Soldier Boy, praising kink, Ben calls her mean things a lot (but she likes it), choking, hair pulling, spitting, Soldier Boy cause mf is a warning on his own, typical canonical violence for this show, no use of y/n, Violet isn't her real name, just a nickname.

WC: 6.9k I'm so sorry

A/N: WHAT DID I TELL YALL MFSSS. Took me 2 years to revisit it but yk what it's fine cause every year is Soldier Boy's year. So yeah here we are. I will warn yall im not too good at writing action/fight scenes, like it made sense in my head but idk if that image translated well into the scene. I only know how to write smut im sorry. But to my Ben/Jensen girlie's, this is for you. I'll see yall in hell <3

Gif is not mine I found it on Pinterest

Universe masterlist | I no longer have a tag list so if you'd like to keep up with updates follow @midnightreadinglibrary

Fucking Herogasm. Christ, you didn't remember the last time you were here. Funny, the last time you went to a Herogasm party it was coincidentally with Ben. And it was in fact the last one you ever went to. It never felt right to go back without him. 

"Fuckin' Herogasm," Butcher laughed and shook his head, glancing back at you with intrigue, "You ever been Violet?" 

Your lips curled up a bit and you licked your lips slowly, glancing at Ben for a second before you found two pairs of curious eyes on you. 

"Yeah, every year for like ten years." You responded, and you were met with a look of disbelief from Hughie, and even Butcher had a slight glint of surprise in his eyes. Perhaps they didn't take you as the orgy, drugs and depravity type of supe, not that you blame them, that never truly was your idea of fun. But you weren’t entirely innocent either. "I'm serious. You can ask Ben if you don't believe me." 

Both men gave Ben a long glance and he laughed, shrugging at you. 

"She ain’t lying, I took her to her first one, in 74' was it? Should've seen her, such a pretty doe-eyed lil’ thing, with a face like hers she fooled everyone." 

"Oh, yeah, you showed innocent little me all the ropes. It was very educational." You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the small grin on your face, and Ben had one of his own. 

For a moment you forgot neither of the other two men quite understood whatever was going between you and Ben, so you missed the uncomfortable look on their faces. 

"Oh, I showed you a hell of a lot more than just the ropes, sweetheart." 

"And I'll show you both the barrel of a gun if I have to endure another second of your trip down erotic memory lane. Can we focus here?" Butcher groaned, looking both annoyed and disturbed by your relationship, like a parent who was tired of keeping his two horny teenagers in line. 

You exchanged a look with Ben, eyes big and lips pursed as you tried not to laugh and you gave him a look of having just been scolded. He simply rolled his eyes and half paid attention to Hughie and Butcher as they went back and forth about who was going in first. 

You, as always, just stood there and observed, absentmindedly twirling your knife between your fingers as you listened to them agree that Hughie should go in first so you could be in and out as quickly as possible. In between your own priorities, Ben being the main one, you had almost forgotten why you were here in the first place. Despite the fact that you were picking off Payback's members one by one, you quickly realized this wasn't for you, or Ben and his plot for revenge. No, it was about Butcher getting his. And the two of you were simply there to make it happen. 

You had begun to wonder if this was all there was to it, a means to an end, and in reality neither you or Ben had much of a chance to make it out this revenge mission alive. But if there was something you knew for sure, it was that you would die before you let anything happen to Ben again. Deep down, you hoped he would do the same for you. 

"I'm gonna go check the area before we go in, make sure there aren't any surprises." Butcher announced after a minute or two of waiting, Hughie not being back yet. He started walking, but not before turning to glance at you both with narrowed eyes, "And you two behave, last time I left you cunts alone you broke a bathroom." 

You did a mocking salute to him and snorted when he rolled his eyes at you, grumbling something you didn't quite hear as he began to walk away. He was out of your sight pretty quickly and you could already feel Ben's intense gaze burn on your face. You ignored it at first, but when he stood in front of you, eyes never leaving you, you had no choice but to look at him. You stopped your fidgeting and you looked up at him expectantly as you leaned back against a tree.

"I don't need to read your mind to know you want to tell me something, what's up?" 

"What you said back at the motel, did you mean it?" He questioned, leaning close to your face as he placed a hand beside your head. You stared at him for a second, trying to dig in your mind for whatever it was that he meant. You found his green eyes and you realized. 

Ah. The three fucking words. 

"Seriously Ben?" You groaned, your head falling to the side with annoyance, but more of all you wanted to avoid his gaze, avoid the shame of having confessed your deepest feelings, knowing feelings wasn't something either of you ever talked about let alone ever admitted to. Because feelings meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant weakness. And weakness wasn't something either of you would ever admit to.

He grabbed your chin, grip tight as he forced you to look at him, "Did you? ‘Cause I meant what I said, all of it." 

Your face softened and your lips slightly curved into a tiny smile. You never wanted to search his mind without his permission, it was like a line you never liked to cross, but you didn't need to this time. Just by looking into his eyes you always knew. You could tell a lot by looking into someone’s eyes. You searched his eyes for any kind of deceit or even manipulation, but you didn't find any. You knew what he meant, and coming from him, it meant everything. 

"Yeah," You sighed softly, "I meant what I said." 

"Good." His pink lips curved into a satisfied smirk as he squeezed your face and leaned down, capturing your lips into his own. It was slower, no rushed and desperate touches like before, but he still kissed you hard. There was nothing gentle about it, but was there ever anything gentle about him? 

His tongue slipped into your mouth as he dropped his hand, resting it on the column of your neck. He pressed his armored chest against yours, pretty much pinning you against the tree. His mouth was so skilled, like he knew exactly how to take your breath away in seconds, he knew you that well. You would never allow a man to have this much control over you. But it was always different with him. Your hands found his long strands as you explored his mouth, and you pulled hard. You felt him groan against your mouth and he squeezed your neck in response. You gasped, the sound quickly fading into a soft moan. He pulled back and watched with amusement the look of pure ecstasy on your face as he squeezed your throat. 

"You fucking slut, you still get off to me hurting you, don't you?" He bit his lip as he released your throat, thumb brushing over the skin he knew would bruise, just like everybody else's, even if it was for a little bit. 

You inhaled deeply, the short lack of airflow making you dizzy, but in the most delicious way possible. You opened your eyes, finding his green ones and god you wished nothing but to just ditch the mission and go somewhere where he could take you, over and over again. 

"Are we here to get revenge or are we here to get your dick wet? ‘Cause I'm getting some real mixed signals here." You mumbled, breath heavy and he chuckled. He leaned down, pressing his lips to your jaw before he moved them to your ear. 

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard I'm gonna break a hell of a lot more than just a mirror." He coaxed. The way he spoke in your ear made you rub your thighs together and the pool forming in your panties was impossible to ignore. It was embarrassing how quickly he could pull you apart and do with you what he pleased. "When we get back. Now pull yourself together, we're on a mission." 

And just like that he was standing a few feet away from you. He was looking behind his shoulder, almost as if he could hear someone. And of course, just in time for you to somewhat regain your composure, Butcher came back. Though it wasn't before you locked eyes with Ben one more time as you tried to control your breathing, and the cocky bastard winked at you, lips curled into a shit eating grin before Butcher actually approached you both. 

This motherfucker. 

"All clear. The twins are in there. You shouldn't have a problem going in," He said to Ben, but then looked at you, "You, though, you might get some attention. Pretty girl, dressed in black leather and strapped with knives, that's some BDSM shit if I've seen one." 

"Okay and?" You frowned, now standing by both men.

"Just stay close to him, people might recognize you and approach you. Do what you can to keep a low profile. You might have to get your hands a bit dirty." He looked between you and Ben. You stared at him with a small frown at first, but when he raised his eyebrows at you, you quickly realized what he meant. 

"Wouldn't be the first time." Ben commented with a chuckle when he caught on. You looked at him, slightly unimpressed by his lack of discretion but you simply rolled your eyes. 

Butcher sighed heavily, clearly done with your antics by then and he simply motioned you off with an unimpressed expression, "Off you go, ya dirty cunts." 

"Looks like you might get your dick wet after all." You commented to Ben as you both headed off to the house. 

He chuckled, shooting you a glance as you stood in front of the door. You were both eager to get this over with, you more than him. It was one thing for him to be able to face the assholes that betrayed him, and you were happy to do it with him. But the idea of being around dozens of supes, in an environment where there were no rules, no respect and no boundaries, made you uneasy. You didn't know if you could handle that many voices all at once. It had been a long time since you had been around other Supes, let alone that many, and you had made that decision for a reason. 

Almost as if he could feel the anxiety radiate from you, you felt a large hand fill your own. Confused, you looked down and saw he had intertwined his fingers with your own. "There's nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart, it wouldn't be the first time we do this." 

"I haven't been around other supes since…" You inhaled deeply, your throat slightly closing up at the memory. The last time you stepped foot at Vought Tower, when you realized you couldn't do it anymore. Ben looked at you, eyebrows slightly knitted into a frown, "It's been a long time is all." 

"Just stay by my side, nobody will lay a hand on you. I'll always protect you, remember?" He gave your hand a slight squeeze and the calm yet assertive ring in his voice made you feel almost at ease. Almost. 

You stayed silent, needing all your energy and focus to keep the dozens of voices beginning to infiltrate your mind one by one. The sound of Ben speaking as a very naked man opened the door sounded far, distant, you didn't catch much of what they said. You only knew to move when you felt Ben tug you along. Now the sound of your racing heart was almost as loud as the voices. So fucking many people here. So many Supes. So many voices. All at once. It was deafening. It disgusted you, to have to hear every passing thought these depraved beings had. You didn’t realize you started digging your blunt nails into Ben’s gloves.

It didn’t hurt, but your enhanced strength definitely made him feel the tightening grip of your shaking hands. He stopped and looked at you with a twisted frown.

“The fuck is wrong with you now? You look like you saw your father.” 

You eyes snapped up to find him looking back at you with both confusion, and his version of concern. You opened your mouth but you could only stammer but no words actually came out. You couldn’t think. It was so loud. Your lip quivered ever so slightly as you felt your chest start to grow heavy. Ben saw the look on your face, the way your eyes were frantically looking around the room, your jaw wound up so tight he thought you’d break it. The last time he saw you like this was when you first joined Payback and didn’t have full control of your abilities. 

“Stop that, right now.” He gripped your shoulders hard, really fucking hard, enough to make you shift your focus on him for a moment. You looked at him with wide eyes. “Hey, I need you to focus. Get your head under control. I need you to have my back here, okay?”

“I… I don’t.. I can’t get them to stop. They won’t stop.” You said, so close to being on the verge of tears. “There’s so many, I can’t get them to shut the fuck up. I--” 

“Hey,” He shook you ever so slightly, leaning in close to your face. “The fuck did I just say? Get. yourself. Together. You used to tune ‘em out, remember? So tune them out.” 

You breathed in, your chest rising as you tried to drown out the noise, focus on his face, on his voice. But you couldn’t. You hadn’t been around this many people in nearly a decade.

“I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t be here. I’m sorry.” You shook your head frantically and tried to slip out of his grip but he didn’t let you. 

“I need you here. Just—hey,” he grabbed your jaw, looking out of the corner of his eyes to make sure you weren’t bringing in too much attention before he met your teary eyes. “Just look at me. I’m right here. Remember you used to tune everyone else out and only focus on my voice, hm? Focus on my thoughts, okay? It’s just you and me, fuck everyone else.” 

You stared at him, the green in his eyes seeming more and more green the longer you looked. You even saw a ring yellow in there. His voice. His thoughts, they had always calmed you, centered you. The voices grew more and more distant the longer you looked at him. You listened to his voice as his thoughts became your own. Until only the sound of his voice was in your head. Your breath was shaky as you closed your eyes, a laugh of relief leaving your lips.

He held your face for a little longer, his deep frown less harsh as he watched your face slowly visibly relax and the tension left your body.

“Are we good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” You exhaled deeply and nodded at him, feeling like you were slowly regaining control of yourself. “Let’s go find the terror twins.” 

You walked around this house for what felt like hours. But it didn’t help that you were being stopped every five minutes by every naked Supe you walked by. Ben was anything but amused.

“I swear to fucking Christ if one more of these slimy jizz-covered fuck faces asks you to use your knives on them I will actually shove my shield up their ass.” Ben grumbled with a look of disgust on his face.

“They’d probably like that.” You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing at the death glare he shot you.

“Eat shit.” You actually snorted this time, and you were full on giggling when he started mumbling curses at you as he walked off. 

You ultimately decided splitting up was probably the way to go, the house was way too big and had too many rooms, you’d find the twins quicker if you each went your own way. Ben was reluctant at first, a bit apprehensive to leave you on your own after you almost broke down earlier. But you reassured him you were fine and perfectly capable of going on your own. You ultimately realized you made the right choice. You didn’t know exactly when or how but out of nowhere you heard a loud blast in the next room and you were launched right through a wall from the blast. Pain immediately started shooting through your body at the impact. You were a Supe, sure, but you weren’t Soldier Boy, you weren’t fucking invincible. You bled and you felt pain like any human. 

It took you a good minute to understand what the actual fuck had just happened. And when you did, you almost forgot about the throbbing pain going through your body. You pushed yourself up to your feet, stumbling and holding on to walls as you dragged yourself through the rubble and burned bodies. Your jaw slightly fell open at the sight of this much mayhem. You didn’t believe in God, but fuck were you praying to a higher power for Ben to be okay. 

You managed to stay on your feet despite the pain. It would go away eventually, in a day or so, but the first few hours were brutal. Still you pushed through, determined to find Ben. You stumbled into a hallway, the walls were falling apart and chunks of cement were all around the floor. But what caught your attention was the sight that fucking American flag and blonde head of hair you had grown to despise. Your heart stopped, you were frozen. You held your breath as you realized fucking Homelander was here. And he currently had Ben pinned to a wall.

This was such a bad fucking idea. You could die a very agonizing death. A bad idea indeed. 

Adrenaline kicked in, you sprinted and with a bit of momentum you landed on Homelander’s shoulders. You were surprised he didn’t hear you coming.You were thankful he was preoccupied with Ben. Your nails dug into the side of his temples and you used all of the energy and power you had coursing through your veins, and sent that straight to his brain.

You weren’t sure if it would even tickle. You tried using your shock powers on Ben once, a long time ago, just to test out how it worked on Supes with enhanced strength, he said it felt like being electrocuted. And right about now you were praying Homelander felt something, enough to stun him at least. You could kill an average Supe if you used enough power, but you weren’t so sure if you were strong enough.

You held on, but you were struggling, commanding your body to release this much energy was mentally exhausting but the sound of Homelander groaning in pain made you smile the slightest bit. The shocks of electricity weren’t going to kill him, but it sure did hurt, and it stunned him. Nobody’s brain was invisible afterall. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it motherfucker? Your body may be indestructible but your mind can only take so much before it breaks.” You spat. Sparks were coming from your fingers as your eyes flashed bright purple. “It’s fucked when its you being held down against your will, huh?”

He screamed, stumbling around as he attempted to grab at you, but this wasn’t the first time you tried to fry someone’s brain off while on their shoulders. You gasped when you saw his laser eyes go off as he screamed, leaving indents on the wall. This split second of distraction was enough to make your focus falter, and it gave Homelander the opportunity to find a grip on you. You cried in pain when he grabbed your ankle and tossed you off. 

You landed fucking hard, it knocked the air right out of your lungs. You coughed as you attempted to get up, but Homelander was grabbing you and pulling you up by your neck before you could blink. He held you up in the air as he levitated so you couldn’t find a way to escape. He held you at arm’s length so you couldn’t reach him, either. The way his empty, ice cold eyes stared you down with evil glee as you gasped for air was terrifying. 

“I always knew you were a fucking bitch. I should’ve killed you when I had the chance. Matter of fact, I’ll do that right now.” Your eyes widened when his eyes gleamed bright red. 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Ben behind Homelander, with a grin as he grabbed Homelander’s cape and pulled down, and he pulled really fucking hard. Your body collided with the ground roughly, landing on your side with a pained cry. But you still saw Ben throw Homelander around by his cape, and had you not been mere seconds away from death, you would have laughed at the comedic irony. You were in and out of consciousness, an aura surrounding your vision. But in between your delirium you could see Butcher and Hughie had arrived, and the three of them were taking on Homelander. It wasn’t long before the three of them had Homelander pinned down. You could feel yourself fade, your muscles give out and your mind shut off. You hadn’t used that much power since you were in Payback. 

You heard indistinct voices and shouting before everything went black. 

“The fuck are you waitin’ for? Blast this cunt!” Butcher shouted and Ben grunted.

“I can’t! Just—Fuck.” His eyes found you in the corner, bloodied and passed out. You couldn’t run away and you wouldn’t survive the blast, he knew that. “You—kid, take her, and get out here. Now!”

“No fucking way!” Hughie shouted back, and Ben felt the urge to blast him instead. 

“Do what he says, take the fuckin’ girl and go!” Butcher shouted at Hughie, catching on to what Ben was trying to do. But before any of them could do anything, Homelander blasted his lasers, screaming as he overpowered the three of them while they were distracted. And just like that he was gone. 

The three men sat in silence, in defeat. They had a chance and they blew it. Ben knew it was mostly his fault, he shouldn’t have hesitated. But he refused to ever let you get hurt. In silent anger he glared at both of them and he stood and walked over to your passed out body. He clenched his jaw as he picked your limp body and carried you. He made eye contact with Butcher and Hughie and it took all of his power not to shoot both of them in the face. 

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

Your whole body ached, and your head was founding. It was unbearable. You winced in pain as you began to peel layers of clothes off your body. God it fucking hurt. You closed your eyes as you attempted to hold back tears, only snapping back into reality when you felt Ben trace his fingers over your back. He noted every bruise and every cut. He knew they would heal, sure but it still made him seethe with anger. 

“What the fuck were you thinkin’, taking on Homelander like that? Did all the fucking pills you take for your psychosis fry all of your neurons or what?” He was so angry, and he never was exactly kind with his words. You always knew that, but it still hurt when he talked to you that way, especially when you had only been trying to help him. 

Your back was turned to him, so he couldn't see the hurt frown on your face but he did notice you huff at him and move away from his touch, refusing to look at him. 

“Okay.. Hey, no. I didn’t.. I didn’t mean it like that. Fuck.” He bit his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut with regret of his choice of words. You kept your back to him as you continued to undress. He groaned. “You would have died. And it would have been on me. I couldn’t live with that, is all.” 

“Well, I was passed out so it would have been a quick death, if that's of any consolation to you.” You answered shortly as you stripped down to your underwear. You don't think he understood that you stopped caring whether you lived or died a long time ago. 

“Okay, could you not be a bitch for two seconds?” He sighed, already annoyed by your attitude. 

“No. If you want a girl who doesn't talk back to you, go find Countess. Oh, wait, you can't ‘cause she sold you to the Russians. Guess you're stuck with me.” You answered with even more spitefulness, just to tick him off a little bit more. You didn't need to read his mind to know he was beyond pissed. You weren't exactly in a colorful mood, either. Your back was still turned to him as you tossed your bloodied gear in a corner. 

He breathed in deeply, pitching the bridge of his nose, “Violet, look at me when I'm talking to you.” 

You turned around with exasperation, your eyes open wide with a ‘what’ expression as you motioned your hands around passive-aggressively. 

“I didn't mean what I said. I know you were trying to help me… And I know that you can't always control your powers. I sometimes can't deal with my own head, I can't imagine having to deal with everybody else's.” Ben wasn't one to apologize. He was actually allergic to the words I'm sorry. You knew that. But you knew he at least tried to apologize using other words. So you listened. You knew he was having a hard time, too. “But I'm not really one to talk. I think I'm the one that's fucked in the head.” 

Your lips slightly parted at his words and you looked at him with a tiny bit of sadness. You never asked him details of what happened to him. Sure, you could look, but you never wanted to dig through his mind without his permission. He'd tell you if he really wanted to. But you didn't need to know everything to understand that what he went through messed him up. And it messed him up a lot. What happened at Herogasm was proof of that. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened at Herogasm? Don't make me look through your head, I don't want to.” You sighed softly, ultimately giving in, like you always did. Your delicate fingers dragged over his vest as you absentmindedly began to take off his gear. 

Ben stayed silent for a long time. He didn't think he even knew what happened. You were down to the last layer of the top part of his suit by the time he opened his mouth. 

“I blacked out. I don't.. I don't know what the fuck happened. I was talking to the fuck twins and then nothing. Next thing I remember is the burned bodies and the place was all fucked up.” He breathed out a little unevenly, a frown knitted deep on his face. He looked down at you when you stayed silent. “I didn't mean to. You believe that, right?” 

You did. But did he? 

“Of course I believe you.” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, hands flat on his chest. He brought one of his hands to the back of your hair, holding your head in place. After a few seconds, you hummed, parting your lips slightly. “Can I ask you a question?” 

He nodded. 

“Why didn't you kill Homelander? You had a shot. Why didn't you take it? You would have done the whole fucking world a favor.” 

Ben stared at you with confusion. Did you really not get it? Were you that clueless or was he just that bad at showing his devotion for you? Probably the latter. 

“You saw what my blast did to the house. You wouldn't have survived that. I should have, I know, Butcher won't stop fucking reminding me. But he has nothing left to lose. Can't kill two girlfriends in the same week, y'know?” 

Your mouth fell open with indignation and you shoved at his chest, but deep down you felt warm at the fact that he chose you over his mission, for once. You still pretended to be angry at him, though. “Fucking prick.” 

He brought his lips to your jaw, leaving blunt kisses and you pretend to hate it. But the smile on your face was inevitable. 

“Wanna shower now or what?” He eventually said. That was the reason you were in the bathroom after all. 

You nodded. You could use the hot water on your bruised skin. You finished stripping, Ben just watched you with a perverted grin and smacked your ass before he stripped himself. 

He got in first, turning on the water and letting it run until steam began to fill the small space. He knew you liked it boiling hot. He didn't mind. You got in and immediately went under the shower head. You moaned in relief, the hot water running down your tense muscles, alleviating the soreness on your body. Ben watched you with a surprising amount of patience as he stood behind you. He leaned down and pressed his soft lips behind your neck, licking along the skin before he moved down your neck to your shoulder. He rested his hands on your hips, squeezing the skin as lightly as he could. You had enough bruises for one day. 

“I'm gonna take care of you tonight, m’kay?” He mumbled against your skin before he made you turn around. 

He crashed his lips against yours, rough fingers gripping your jaw as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You whined, already craving more. When he kissed you like this, you just couldn't help yourself. 

“Need you, please.” You were breathless against his lips, your blunt nails digging into his chest desperately. He gave your bottom lip a small tug as he pulled away. 

He made you stand in front of him, his back to the shower wall as he slowly sank to his knees. Your eyes followed him longingly.

“C'mere.” He pulled you towards him, his eyes were full of greed as he made eye contact with you while he directed you to rest one of your feet on his shoulder. 

His eyes stayed locked with yours as leaned forward and licked a long stripe from your hole up to your clit. He wrapped his lips around the bud and sucked. You gasped, instantly pressing your hand against the damp wall to keep yourself up. Your mouth fell open in delight as he dragged his tongue around your sensitive clit. 

“O-Oh. Shit. Shit, Ben.” You whined softly, your free hand falling to his wet hair. He held your hip with one hand, steady vice grip holding you in place as he pushed his tongue into your hole. You swore the cry you let out was heard in the entire apartment. “Oh, my God. Fuck. That feels so good.” 

Ben hummed in approval as you wrapped your fingers around his hair and held his face against you. As if he would go anywhere. He happily kept his mouth on you, head moving up and down as he worked you with his tongue, his nose brushing your clit with every movement of his head. To say that you were so close was an understatement. You could feel your leg start to give out under you the longer you felt that heat build in your stomach. Ben was more than happy to assist you with that, too. His free hand grabbed the underside of your thigh and forced you further against his mouth until your leg was dangling over his shoulder. His other hand stayed on your hip, vice grip holding you upright effortlessly. 

His tongue found your clit one more time, and the emptiness it left was replaced by two long fingers pushing into your cunt. Your eyes rolled back as your mouth fell open in a silent cry. You leaned your forehead against the tile as you dug your nails into his scalp. Fuck, you didn't remember the last time a man ate you out, let alone ate you out like this. It felt so good you wanted to cry, you didn't even remember the pain in your body, all you could feel was pleasure. 

“Feels good, doesn't it sweetheart?” He spat into your clit as he fucked you with his fingers. If the shower hadn't been running the lewd sound of his fingers dragging in and out of your wet hole would've been so loud. But he could still hear it, and fuck did he love it. He took a second to look up at you. Such a pretty little thing when you were so close. “Oh, you wanna come don't you? Mhmm, yeah, you do. C'mon, gimme what I want. I know you can do it.” 

His tongue was back on your clit, he licked harsh stripes as he slipped his thick fingers in and out of your cunt with urgency. The sounds of him licking and sucking on your clit were almost as filthy as the sounds coming out of your mouth. His fingers fucked you without mercy, there was not a single thing gentle about his touch. It was rough and relentless. Just like he was. And it had you seeing fucking white before you even realized. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, lips parting in a silent cry as you held his face against you. But it wasn't like he'd go anywhere, if anything he kept his tongue on your swollen clit and his fingers never stopped. Tears formed in your eyes as your thighs shuddered. And when he didn't stop you were pulling at the ends of his hair to pull him off you. He groaned at this. Quite unhappy to be leaving the warm place between your thighs. 

“I wasn't done.” He looked up at you with a frown. You took in a deep breath, blowing out a small laugh as you grabbed at his face, weakly attempting to pull him back up.

“You can be down there all you want later, I just..” You swallowed hard, somewhat regaining your composure as he stood up to his full height. You pulled him down by his face and kissed him, and you kissed him fucking hard. And the taste of yourself still left on his tongue made you need him even more. “Just need you, okay?” 

“Need me where?” He grabbed your jaw, fingers sprawled out over your throat as he held your face back. He stared you down, malicious eyes full of greed as he waited for your answer. And he wouldn't give you anything until you did.

“Inside me.” You muttered through gritted teeth, almost delirious as you rubbed your thighs together with anticipation. He didn't look satisfied. You breathed in deeply, the aching need between your legs unbearable. “Need your cock, inside me, right now, Ben.” 

He lifted his eyebrows up in satisfaction and gave you a simple hum before he switched positions with you, without a word pressing your front against the shower wall. 

“I fuck you once and you're already acting like a pathetic whore? Okay. But you better fucking take my cock like the good fuck doll you've always been, hm?” He kicked your legs apart with his knee, his back pressing you further into the wall as he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance. You took a deep breath. “Yeah, you're gonna take this cock like a good lil’ fuck doll.” 

You gasped when he pushed himself inside with a snap of his hips, but it quickly turned into a moan when he pushed himself to the hilt, hips rutting against your ass. You dug your nails into nothing as you closed your eyes, taking in the delicious feeling of his thick cock stretching your walls.

“What a tight fucking cunt.” He grunted, gripping your hips, not wasting any time. He barely gave you time to adjust. “So fucking wet. Just for me, huh?” 

You were nodding against the wall instantly, pushing your ass back against him as he fucked you without mercy. You felt his lips on your shoulder as he leaned over you. The lewd sound of slapping skin was drowned out by the shower running but you could hear it clear as fucking day. 

“Yes! Mhmm feels so good.” You moaned softly, mindlessly reaching behind you to touch him, any part of him. Your fingers found his beard as you ran your hand over his face desperate to feel him, then you found his hair, and you latched on for dear life as he drilled into you. 

“Yeah? Like how my cock feels in your guts? You missed it, didn't you?” He pressed the side of his face into your head, allowing himself to close his eyes and soak the feeling of your nails on his scalp, he could even feel the faintest bit of electricity shooting through your fingers. He fucking loved it. 

“Yes! God yes.” You couldn't even describe how much. 

Ben smirked at this as he wrapped his arm over your chest and his fingers found your throat. He forced your head back, making you look at him. 

“Open your mouth,” He ordered, he held his finger to your pulse as he felt the fast rate of your heartbeat. You did as he said, and with a huff he spat in your mouth. “Slut. Swallow it.” 

How he could so easily break you down to nothing and treat you like no other man could, truly was beyond your understanding. But your mind didn't have to understand it. Your body just did it. You felt a pool of wetness seep through you at the damn near animalistic groan that rumbled in his throat. 

“You're such a good fucking girl.” He spat, pressing his lips against yours in a messy filthy kiss. You could barely keep your mouth open, not with the way he was so determined to make you fall apart for him. “You're my good fucking girl.” 

“I want to come. Please I—fuck.”  Your words were broken as your whole body burned up, and it wasn't from the hot water. 

“Of course, you do. It just feels so good, doesn't it?” He squeezed your throat harder, only choked out sounds could leave your mouth as he slipped his other hand to your swollen clit and rubbed harsh circles. 

Your orgasm hit you so hard you didn't realize it until you were shaking violently, your eyes rolled back into your head as you fucked yourself on his cock. Not that he ever stopped. He moaned loudly at the feeling of your wetness seeping on him. The wet sound of his cock slapping against your cunt made him want to come, too. 

“Fuck. Fucking Christ Violet. C'mon, make me come. Fuck yourself on my cock just like that. Be a good fuck doll for me, that's it.” His hand left your throat to pull at your hair. He dug his fingers deep into your scalp as his face fell on your shoulder. With a deep grunt he held you down on him. “Fucking take it, that's it, girl. Just like that. Fuck.” 

You could feel your mixed releases slip down your thigh. You sighed deeply, allowing yourself to close your eyes in ecstasy as he pressed his lips to your jaw. You hummed softly, reaching behind you to run your fingers through your hair. 

“I never want to leave this cunt. Feels so fucking good.” He muttered against your skin. 

You laughed softly, eyes still closed, you breathed heavily, “You're gonna have to eventually.” 

“Like fuck I am.” 

Both of his hands were on your hips and he turned you around. You whimpered softly at the emptiness he left you, but it was quickly replaced by choked out gasp when he grabbed both of your thighs and effortlessly hoisted you up around his waist. Your back was pressed against the tile wall and he slipped his cock inside you without a warning.

“Ben—” 

“You wanted my cock inside you? Well you better fucking take all of it. Every fucking inch ‘til I say so. You want it, don't you?” He spat, already fucking into you like you were nothing more than a toy. He held you up by your thighs as he kept them wide open so he could take as much as he wanted. And that he did. “Of course you do, this cunt is all mine to with as I fucking want. That ain't never gonna change.” 

What a long fucking night you were going to have. But you'd take a million of this over another day without him in your life. And this? This was all you ever wanted. You didn't need anything else, just him.

[galaxy-stardust]

Time-out with the Task Force

Part 5

The fire crackled, filling the quiet gaps between words. Outside, the wind howled against the cabin walls, a reminder of the snowstorm still raging beyond the safety of their hideaway.

Price swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the flames dance. "Y’know, I remember a time when you didn’t say more than five words to any of us, Ghost."

Soap smirked. "Aye, and half of those were probably 'fuck off' or 'stay sharp'."

Ghost scoffed, shifting in his chair. “Still applies, mate.”

Gaz chuckled. "And yet, here you are, sittin’ all cozy in a cabin, staring at her like she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you."

Ghost didn’t take the bait, but his fingers tapped against his knee, a subtle tell.

Price leaned back. “Truth be told, I worried about you for a long time, Simon.” His voice carried the weight of years of battles, of losses, of seeing too many good soldiers break. “Didn’t think you’d ever let someone in.”

Ghost exhaled slowly, rubbing a thumb over the edge of his glove. “Didn’t think so either.”

Soap nudged him with his foot. “So what changed?”

Ghost was quiet for a moment, watching the fire. Then, in a voice low and steady - "She didn’t leave.”

No one spoke.

It wasn’t just words. It was a weight. A confession without being one.

Price nodded slowly. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? Finding someone who stays.”

Soap hummed. “Aye… most don’t.”

Gaz glanced toward Ghost. “And you? You stayin’ too?”

Ghost’s fingers curled slightly against his knee. His gaze flicked to where you slept, bundled up, peaceful, unaware of the conversation unfolding around you.

“…Yeah.”

Soap grinned, lifting his glass. “Well, ain’t that somethin’.”

Gaz smirked. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Price just chuckled, taking another slow sip. “Enjoy it while you can, lads. The world doesn’t give us much of this.”

The fire crackled, and for once, Ghost let himself just be.

~~~~~~~~~

The fire burned low, casting long shadows across the wooden walls. The storm still rattled outside, but inside, it was warm - comfortably so. The quiet between them wasn’t heavy, wasn’t awkward. Just men who had spent years together, who didn’t need to fill every silence with words.

Soap stretched out in his chair, rolling his shoulders with a grunt. “Damn, I’m gettin’ too old for this shite. Back’s killin’ me.”

Gaz snorted. “You’re what, thirty?”

Soap scowled. “It’s an experienced thirty, thank you very much. And my body’s been through more than yours.”

Gaz leaned forward. “Mate, I’ve been shot. Twice.”

Soap held up a hand. “Ah, ah, but have you fallen off a moving helicopter and survived?”

Gaz blinked. “…You fell off a heli?”

Price sighed, rubbing his temples. “He jumped off the damn thing.”

Soap grinned. “Semantics, Cap’n. Thought it was goin’ down, figured I’d rather take my chances with the ground than an explosion.”

Ghost huffed, shaking his head. “Daft bastard.”

“Hey, worked, didn’t it?” Soap smirked. “Broke my leg, but I lived.”

Price chuckled. “You lot ever think about how much shite we’ve survived?”

Gaz exhaled. “Honestly? No. If I did, I think I’d have a crisis.”

Soap tapped his chin. “Best near-death moment? Go.”

Ghost lifted a brow. “Best?”

Soap shrugged. “Aye, y’know, the kind where you should’ve died, but somehow, you pulled some ridiculous shite and made it out.”

Gaz smirked. “Like the time you ran through a burning building with a hostage while also being shot at?”

Soap grinned. “Exactly!”

Price sighed. “Y’know, back in my day, we didn’t call that a ‘best’ moment. We called it a fuckin’ disaster.”

Ghost shifted in his chair. “Karachi. Had to crawl through a sewer pipe with a busted arm. Thought I’d bleed out before I made it to the exfil.”

Soap winced. “Oof. That’s grim, mate.”

Gaz snorted. “Still not as bad as Soap’s great ‘heli jump’.”

Soap threw a pillow at him. “Oi, legendary heli jump.”

Ghost smirked. “Legendarily stupid.”

Price chuckled, taking another sip of whiskey. “Hell, I remember back when I was still green - thought I could clear a minefield by walking real careful.”

Gaz stared. “Did it work?”

Price grinned. “Still here, aren’t I?”

Soap whistled. “That’s some next-level luck, Cap’n.”

Price shrugged. “Not luck. Just a very, very slow walk and a lot of prayers.”

Ghost shook his head, exhaling through his nose. “You’re all insane.”

Soap grinned. “Aye, and you love it.”

Ghost rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

The fire crackled, and for a moment, they just sat there, content in the quiet. Men who had been through hell together, laughing at the absurdity of survival.

A storm outside, warmth inside.

For now, that was enough.

Part 6

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

May I ask for a request of tangerine x reader who works with Tan and Lemon. Idiots in love type. And on a mission one takes a bullet for the other or does something stupid during a mission to keep the other safe? and then when they are in the clear they get into a big argument about how stupid the other was and like all the yelling and arguing leads to slipping out a love confession. You can choose who gets injured tan or reader.

Also, I could totally see Lemon in the back just watching them argue sipping on some water that isn’t poisoned.

hii sunshine! love love love it! thanks for requesting, hope you like it 💌 @thewinterv I combined this with your request, hope you don’t mind 🤍

HONESTY HOUR.

tangerine x implied fem!reader

word count. 792

warnings. couple blood mentions

Missions were always complicated with Tangerine. Not because he’s difficult to work with or unskilled, but instead it was your feelings towards him that made working with him so tricky. Confusing feelings pertaining to the unspoken, unacknowledged connection between you.

And because of that, you never knew where you stood with each other. You each knew there was something there, a spark as such, but neither of you would dare speak on it. These repressed emotions have been marinating for far too long, the approaching expiry date much like that of a ticking time bomb. 

Today's mission was particularly challenging: you and Tangerine were tasked to retrieve something —you still were unsure of what exactly— while Lemon retrieved the other. You’d all often split on missions, though today two diversions were needed, and without a moment to think on it, you found yourself following after Tangerine. 

In hindsight, it may have been stupid – the current bullet wound in your lower arm acting as a giant looming ‘I told you so.’ As soon as you and Tan were rushed into a trap —a setup— it all kind of went blank, and you fought on autopilot without a single comprehensive thought. 

You were hardly aware that you were hit until Tangerine noticed it – the trail of blood leaking from your arm and on the floor in an inconsistent pattern. 

“What the fuck have you done?” Tan yells, eyes widening as he rushes over to you – jumping over the small pile of dead bodies.

“I don’t know,” you shout back, looking down at your arm in panic. “I don’t know.”

“Oh fuckin’ hell,” he continues his yelling for some apparent reasoning. “God, this is a fuckin’ disaster,” he says, moving a hand to cover the wound in your arm, his palm firm over the small hole – trying to apply pressure. 

“It’s starting to hurt,” you wince, tugging your arm away. The adrenaline beginning to wear off.

He holds onto your elbow with his other hand, keeping you still and stopping you from pulling from his attempt of help.

“Keep bloody still, man,” he furrows, eyes narrowing at you for a brief moment. “Knew you should’ve gone with Lemon.”

“Well if I did, you’d be dead. So you’re welcome,” you retort, eyes squinting at him in that same frustrated way.

“Yeah, well too late for that now, ain’t it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snark, snatching your arm away – holding over the wound in the same way he did. “Don’t have to be such a dick to me all the time, okay? I’m trying.”

“You never fuckin’ think. You always throw yourself in danger and I have to come and bail you out,” he scoffs, staring you down. 

“I never ask you to.”

He chuckles, the sound amused. “Oh, come off it.”

“I don’t need you to treat me like I’m a little princess,” you retort once more. “I don’t need your help, okay? I’m fine on my own.”

“Well maybe that’s our fuckin’ problem then,” he says, voice far calmer now. 

“What does that mean?” you ask, tone softening like his. “What do you mean?”

He shakes his head, exhaling heavily. “Forget it. I don’t care anymore,” he scoffs. “We gotta get back to Lem and get you sorted.”

And as he goes to leave, walking past you, you grab a hold of his arm to halt him. “What do you mean by that?” you question, eyes darting over his face.

“Nevermind.”

“No,” you tug his arm, extending your neck to meet his eyeline. “Tell me.”

He sighs, purposely avoiding your eyes. “I care about you, alright?” he confesses, speaking almost reluctantly. 

You move to stand in front of him, making him face you – forcing him to look at you. You smile faintly at him, the softness in your eyes silently prompting him to say what else he was thinking.

“I like you, okay? I don’t wanna see you hurt,” he admits. “Happy now?”

You nod sincerely, smiling at him. “That’s why I always go with you… sounds stupid, but I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Yeah?” he says softly, a faint grin lining his lips. “So what’re you saying?” he chuckles, pushing you into a confession like you did him.

“I’m saying,” you pause. “I’m saying I like you.”

“You do?” he takes a step closer.

And before you have a moment to reply, you hear footsteps approach, the presence snapping you from this little honesty round with Tangerine. “Oi, there you fuckers are,” Lemon shouts, spotting you both. “Got shit to do, now chop chop.” And when he sees each of your faces, he can’t help but laugh. Both of you looked so guilty. “About to finally do it, weren’t you?”

I fear this may be total ass

[cupidsworstcrime]

Johnny x reader angst cause im a sad sad bitch

based on this (yes i know im stupid)

You and your best friend have Polaroids of each other tucked into your phone cases. Yours is of him mid-laugh, eyes scrunched, sun catching on his lashes and that dumb little smirk of his taking up half the frame. His is of you in a hoodie three sizes too big, yawning with sleep-crusted eyes. He says it’s his favorite. Says it’s “the real you. No pretendin’. Just mine.”

You’ve both sprayed them—his smells like your perfume, yours like his woodsy cologne and somehow his gun oil. You pretend not to notice how often he lifts his phone to his face and breathes in. He calls it “home smell.” You pretend it doesn’t make your heart ache.

You go on midnight drives, him showing up in gym shorts and some ragged old shirt that should’ve been thrown out five years ago. He doesn’t even knock anymore, just texts: “Outside. Bring yer lazy arse. I need fries an’ a fat burger.” And you go. Of course you go. You always do.

“Can’t sleep without seein’ you,” he says one night like it’s casual. Like it doesn’t make your chest cave in.

When you were in the hospital, he let you call him thirty times a day. You did. He answered every single one. From the locker room. From work. From the middle of training. Whispering, grinning, eyes red, but happy. Always happy to hear your voice. “You okay? That’s all that matters. Nothin’ else.”

His hands are rough, calloused from battlefields and bars and whatever hell he walked through before he found you. But when they touch you—when they trace your skin—it’s like he’s holding something sacred. Like you’re a prayer he’s too afraid to say aloud. Like he doesn’t believe he deserves you but thanks every god anyway.

And you laugh during sex. Every time. When his leg cramps or you fall off the bed or he moans a little too loud. You giggle, and he hides his face in your shoulder and grins like it’s the only place he wants to be. “We’re a fuckin’ disaster,” he says. And you answer, “Yeah. But we fit.”

You fit.

He tells you about his day with his forehead against your shoulder, and that’s when you love him most. When it’s quiet. When he’s soft. When you get to pretend that this is it. That this is what forever could look like.

When you made a comment about your weight, not even seriously, he looked at you like you’d insulted something sacred. Next thing you know, he’s back in the gym, pushing himself like a man possessed. And when you joked again, he just growled, “Call yerself too heavy one more time an’ I’ll carry you e'erywhere. Don’t tempt me.”

You laughed.

He didn’t.

And when you asked him out—heart in your hands, throat tight with all the years of maybe—he cried. He actually cried.

“I love you so much it hurts,” he said, voice cracking, tears slipping down those beautiful, bruised cheeks. “But I’m not good for you. I’m broken. I’d ruin you. I’d ruin this.”

You didn’t argue.

You didn’t scream.

Because a part of you knew it was true. He’s chaos wrapped in charm. He’s fire. You’re kindling. And you’d burn so fast, so bright, you’d never come back from it.

So now?

You’re just friends.

And it kills you.

But you keep going. You still take the midnight drives. Still laugh at his stupid jokes. Still hold his hand when no one’s looking and pretend your heart isn’t crumbling.

Because loving him—even like this—is better than not having him at all.

And if this is all he can give, then you’ll take it.

Even if it burns every time he looks at you like he wants you.

Even if it never stops hurting.

Even if it means pretending forever.

Part 2

[ares-shithole-writing-blog]

XMen Older Brother HCs

Scott, Kurt, Gambit, Kevin (Morph), Mortimer, Todd, Pietro, Piotr, Warren, Beast, and Prof. X.

Scott Summers

We all know this man is the most overprotective older brother ever.

Like, you have a bad day at school, he's taking you to a movie to make you feel better.

If any teacher/student hassles you for something, he's getting Ororo, Logan and Jean to pull up and help him fuckin' go off on the principal/parents.

And afterwards he's taking you wherever you want for dinner and letting you stay up super late and will let you skip school the next morning.

Remy LeBeau

He's a self proclaimed disaster but is doing his best for you.

He deffo has French nicknames for you.

He's literally fistfought kids who bullied you to make you feel better. Much to Rogue's dismay when she has to bail you two out of jail.

He's always making food for you. Always. Hungry? There's warm jambalaya on the stove. Cajun shrimp in the fridge. Gumbo too if you want it. He loves cooking for his little sibling. It makes him nostalgic.

When you have a particularly bad day at school, he'll get a bottle of wine from the fridge and pour you a (very small) glass and let you drink it and he'll put on your comfort show/film/youtuber and watch it with you.

Kurt Wagner

He takes you to church every Sunday.

Now don't be angry; he's found an accepting church that supports the LGBTQ+ community and does discuss world issues.

He even lets you step out to take a breather during services if you feel uncomfortable.

Afterward he takes you to lunch with some of his church friends and you guys pray about whatever issue was discussed in church that week.

He likes to volunteer at the church. He goes to bible study and is a camp counselor for church camp. These he doesn't make you help with, but when you do, he's really happy about it.

He has German nicknames for you.

Kevin Sydney

They are trying their darndest.

They try their best to make you breakfast in the morning. They make pancakes, waffles, eggs, french toast, sausage...

Without fail, the bacon always ends up burnt. It gets to the point they ask you to make the bacon so they don't ruin it.

They're really lenient about eating where you want in the house. Do you wanna eat in your room? Sure! On the couch, watching tv? Go ahead! On the roof??? I don't know why you're asking but sure!

They ask you for advice about Logan really often. Sometimes they also do the dumb thing where they practice asking Logan out on you.

Mortimer Toynbee

tbh idk much abt him

He found you as an abandoned baby and took you in.

The second he brought you back to the Brotherhood base, Blob and Avalanche were fawning over you.

Mortimer was very insistent he could take care of you on his own, and he managed to pretty well.

Except for that one time he misplaced you.

By that i mean; you started walking and he set you down for a minute when Magneto called him for something and then when he came back you were gone.

When he found you, he was relieved/kinda terrified to find you napping on Juggernaut.

He had to beg for Juggs to give you back.

Juggs relented on the condition he got to be your uncle.

Todd Tolansky

He felt absolutely horrible when you guys became homeless.

He begged, borrowed and stole for you to be able to eat and stuff.

He got used to having to steal from big box stores like Walmart and Target to clothe you.

He was very distrustful of other homeless folk and shelter workers. He never let them even see you. Whenever he went to go barter/get things from shelters, he'd leave you in a particular spot in an alleyway between two dumpsters. He told you to stay until he came back. He always came back.

When Mystique found you one of the days just as he returned, he nearly fistfought her.

He doesn't trust the Brotherhood members around you - especially not Mystique. He's almost relieved when you befriend that stupid Summers boy. Almost.

Pietro Maximoff

Bro ignores you alot of the time.

But when he doesn't he picks on you.

One time he put your white clothes in with Wanda's red clothes and laughed when they turned pink.

Then Wanda made him buy you guys new clothes. He has no regrets.

He actually cares about you though, obviously.

When you're hungry, he feeds you. You need school supplies? He's buying it for you. He swears it's because he doesn't care, but we all know he does.

Piotr Rasputin

Russian nicknames for you because baby sibling.

Will use his metal form to intimidate your bullies.

Him and Illyana coddle you so fucking much.

Traditonal russian food with family dinners. Traditonal bedtime stories.

idk much more abt him so that's it for now

Warren Worthington III

idk much about him but i gotta try

He flies you to school every morning.

No ifs, ands, or buts.

Yummy and filling breakfasts.

Expensive clothes/shoes/whatever you want.

Has threatened to sue the school whenever they don't do anything about you being bullied.

Hank McCoy

He's always working so you don't get to see him often.

When he does, though, he throws himself fully into spending time with you.

He gets you to watch Space Odyssey and falls asleep halfway through while you're super invested.

He cried when Hal died in "2010: The Year We Make Contact."

He lowkey simps for Dr. Chandra

You somehow got him a Dr. Chandra bodypillow as a gag birthday gift and he kept it.

Charles Xavier

Works with what he has to take care of you.

Uses his telepathy to find dirt on people who bully you and gives it to you to even the playing field.

Once you have a family, he lowkey puts you on the X-Men's "Protect at all costs" list.

Just a general good big brother.

[baekhyunsbestie]

Can you do how EXO members react to accidentally getting hard when their girl Best Friend sits on their lap? Like in the car or on the couch or something. 🫶🏽

HAHAHAHAHENFWELKN THE WAY THEY WOULD ALL B FIGHTING FOR THEIR LIVESSSSSS

⟢ jongin

it was his idea.

the living room was packed, bodies crammed onto the couch, sprawled across the floor—any open space instantly claimed. and that’s when your best friend, resident big-brained genius kim jongin, casually patted his thigh and said, “just sit here.”

so, you did. you plopped right down, snuggling into him as the movie started, completely unaware of the internal war he was about to have with himself.

at first, he was fine. totally fine. hands resting lightly on your waist, posture relaxed, playing it so cool.

and then you shifted. just a tiny adjustment to get comfortable, but to him? catastrophic. his whole body stiffened. his hands twitched against your sides before gripping your hips—too tightly.

“don’t move,” he muttered, voice low, tight.

“huh?” you turned slightly to glance at him, and that was mistake number two.

because now you were looking at him, your face way too close, and he was fighting for his life.

“just—” he cleared his throat, staring at the screen, trying so hard to focus on the movie. “just watch.”

but then you adjusted again.

and that’s when disaster struck.

his fingers dug into your waist. his jaw locked. his breathing stalled. his brain was screaming, begging, for his body to behave—but nope. betrayal.

and then—you felt it.

you froze.

he froze harder.

the movie played on, people laughed at something on-screen, but neither of you were paying attention anymore.

“jongin,” you whispered, your voice full of realization.

he squeezed his eyes shut. “please.”

you bit your lip, trying to hold back laughter. “is that—”

“please, for the love of god, shut up.”

your shoulders started shaking, and he could feel your amusement radiating off you.

“sooo… you still want me to sit here?” you teased.

he let out the most suffering sigh, arms dropping limp around you. “i hate my life.”

“i mean, we could make it worse—”

“get off me right now.”

but the room was too crowded, and moving would definitely draw attention.

so you stayed.

and he suffered.

⟢ chanyeol

this was supposed to be a normal trip.

a simple drive with friends, nothing out of the ordinary—except for the unfortunate lack of seats. the car was packed, everyone squeezed together, and you were left standing outside, debating where to sit.

your bestie, chanyeol, being the ever-so-helpful idiot that he was, grinned and patted his thigh.

“just sit on my lap. we’ll be fine.”

you rolled your eyes but didn’t think much of it. you’d sat on his lap before, no big deal. so, without hesitation, you climbed in, settling into his lap like it was nothing.

for the first few minutes, he was fine.

but then the driver hit a speed bump.

catastrophic.

you bounced. not much, but enough.

chanyeol’s breath hitched. his hands, which had been resting lazily at his sides, snapped to your waist. his fingers gripped you on instinct—too tight.

you paused.

he went completely still.

“…did you just make a noise?” you asked, turning slightly.

“uh. nope.” his voice was higher than usual.

you shifted slightly to get comfortable, and that’s when he lost it.

his hands tightened on your waist, hard. “don’t. move.”

your eyebrows raised. “what is your problem—”

“just don’t move.”

oh.

oh.

the realization hit you like a truck. and then—you felt it.

your lips curled into a slow, evil grin. “chanyeol…”

he groaned, tilting his head back against the seat. “please. don’t start.”

“so… you’re telling me i just sat here, minding my business, and you—”

“stop talking.”

you bit your lip, barely holding back laughter. “but i thought you said we’d be fine?”

“i was wrong,” he muttered, staring aggressively out the window.

so, naturally, you decided to make it worse. you shifted just slightly.

his hands clamped down on your hips so fast you gasped. “what did i just fucking say?” his voice was dangerously low.

you lost it. full-on laughing, your body shaking against him—which did not help his situation at all.

he groaned again, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. “worst fucking day of my life.”

“do you want me to move?” you asked sweetly.

“where? we're in a moving car, genius.”

you grinned, leaning back against him. “guess we’re stuck like this then.”

he muttered something under his breath, something suspiciously close to “this is actual hell.”

and when the car hit another bump and he had to physically restrain himself from making a noise?

yeah, you were never letting him live this down.

⟢ sehun

it was just supposed to be a casual movie night. the living room was packed, every inch of space on the couch and floor taken, leaving you standing with nowhere to sit. sehun, ever the nonchalant best friend, didn’t even look up from his phone when he patted his thigh and mumbled, “you can sit on my lap.”

it was whatever. you had sat on his lap before—no big deal.

until, for some reason, this time? it was.

at first, he was fine. slouched against the couch, legs spread comfortably, arms draped lazily over the backrest. but then—you shifted. and his entire world collapsed.

his body went stiff. his fingers twitched against his knee. his jaw clenched so tight he thought it might lock. this wasn’t happening. except, oh god—it was.

he sucked in a slow, deep breath, forcing himself to stare at the screen like his life depended on it. he could get through this.

but then—you adjusted yourself again.

his hands snapped to your waist immediately. 

“stop,” he warned, voice so low and serious you actually paused.

you turned slightly, confused. “what?”

he didn’t respond. he couldn’t. because if he opened his mouth, he might just embarrass himself further. but then, you noticed how tense he was beneath you. the way his thighs felt like solid rock, his fingers digging into your sides like he was physically restraining himself from reacting.

and then—you felt it.

you blinked. “wait—are you—”

he cleared his throat aggressively, still refusing to look at you. “no, i’m not.”

you smirked. oh, this was gold. “so you just… randomly have a—”

“do not finish that sentence,” he gritted out.

but you? oh, you weren’t letting this go. “should i move?” you teased, shifting just slightly.

his hands gripped your waist so fast, you gasped. “i swear to god, if you move again—” his voice was dangerously low, his fingers tightening just enough to make you realize—he was losing it.

so, naturally, you did what any good best friend would do. you leaned back, biting your lip to hold in your laughter. “so… are we just sitting like this, or—”

“get off.”

before you could even react, he lifted you off himself, setting you beside him with one swift motion. his hands immediately grabbed a throw pillow, slamming it over his lap.

you just stared at him. wide-eyed. grinning. he exhaled sharply, glaring at the screen. he looked like he was re-evaluating every decision he had ever made.

you leaned in, voice dripping with amusement. “sehun…”

his head slowly turned toward you, his jaw locked, his gaze sharp. “shut. up.”

⟢ kyungsoo

it was just a simple drive with friends, heading to a late-night restaurant after hanging out. the car was packed.

“just sit on kyungsoo’s lap,” someone suggested. “it’s a short drive.”

you turned to kyungsoo, expecting him to refuse, to glare at them until they backed off. but instead, he just shrugged, giving you a short nod. “yeah, it’s fine.”

so you climbed in, settling onto his lap like it was no big deal.

except, for kyungsoo? it was a huge fucking deal.

he was fine at first. stiff, but fine. hands resting on his thighs, eyes locked straight ahead like he was focusing on something very important.

then—the driver hit the brakes a little too suddenly.

you shifted.

his jaw clenched. his fingers tensed. his entire body went rigid.

nope. nope nope nope.

he inhaled through his nose, willing it away. he just needed to stay still, stay calm, and—

another turn. another shift.

he was not okay. he froze completely, his hands hovering awkwardly before landing firmly on your waist—not to hold you, just to stop you from moving.

but you noticed. you turned your head slightly, brows furrowing. “kyungsoo, are you—”

“shut up.”

his voice was so sharp, so firm, it made you pause.

and that’s when it clicked.

the slight tension in his jaw. the death grip he had on the side of the seat. the fact that he was refusing to look at you.

“don’t wanna hear it.”

you wiggled slightly—just to mess with him.

his hands were back on your waist in an instant. “if you do that again, i’m opening the door and throwing you out.”

you lost it. you had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing out loud so the others wouldn’t be suspicious.

his head tilted back against the seat, and he exhaled so hard, his breath almost shaky. “god, why is this drive so fucking long.”

you leaned in closer, whispering, “think we got a few more turns before we’re there.”

his eyes flicked to you, dark and dead serious.

“jesus fucking christ.”

and that’s when you knew. 

this was the moment you were going to tease him about for the rest of his life.

⟢ junmyeon

oh, he’s trying so hard to keep it together. emphasis on trying.

when you settle onto his lap, he stiffens immediately, his hands awkwardly hovering like he doesn’t know where to place them. “you comfy?” he asks, ever the gentleman, voice smooth—too smooth.

you hum, shifting slightly, and that’s when disaster strikes. his breath catches. for a fraction of a second, his fingers twitch against his thighs before he clenches them into fists. his entire body has gone taut, his jaw tight, his soul leaving his body.

he wills himself to stay calm. he’s an adult. a composed, responsible, leader-like man. he is not going to react like some teenage boy who can’t handle his best friend sitting on him—except, well… he is.

“jun?” your voice is soft, teasing. too aware. “why do you look like you’re going through an existential crisis?”

“i—i don’t,” he lies immediately, clearing his throat way too hard. “i’m just... thinking.”

“thinking?” you repeat, smirking now. “about what?”

his ears turn bright red. he refuses to meet your gaze, his eyes fixed on the farthest corner of the room like it holds the secrets to the universe. “about... tax benefits,” he blurts out.

you blink. “tax benefits?”

he nods. because at this point, he has no choice but to commit to the bit.

he exhales slowly, gathering every ounce of dignity he has left. then, in the most casual, totally-not-panicked way possible, he places his hands on your waist and gently—but very purposefully—lifts you off his lap. “you should probably sit next to me,” he says smoothly.

except it’s not smooth, because the second you’re off, he subtly tugs his sweater down over his lap, crossing his legs like a flustered schoolboy.

you grin, watching him shift uncomfortably. “so... tax benefits, huh?”

he sighs, rubbing his temples. “don't...please.”

⟢ baekhyun

the moment you plop onto his lap, he’s already spiraling, but he plays it off like it’s no big deal. he smirks, resting his hands on the couch, legs spread a little too confidently—until you shift. that’s when his entire world crumbles.

his body tenses, and his smirk wavers for just a second before he recovers. “whoa, hold up—” he laughs, voice slightly strained. “if ya keep movin' like that, i might hafta start charging you for personal space.”

you pause, blinking at him. “...why do you sound weird?”

“i don’t sound weird.”

you tilt your head, squinting at him suspiciously. that’s when you notice it—the slight clench of his jaw, the way his hands suddenly aren’t resting on the couch anymore but gripping the hem of his hoodie like he’s physically restraining himself. and then, you feel it.

“oh my god.”

his eyes widen so fast. “NO. no, no, no, don’t—just—listen—" he’s scrambling, trying to come up with an excuse, any excuse, but you’re already staring at him in horror (or amusement, he can’t tell, and frankly, he doesn’t want to know).

“baekhyun.”

“you don’t understand—"

“oh, i understand.”

he groans, throwing his head back against the couch dramatically. “this is your fault,” he grumbles, arms crossed like a pouty child.

“MY fault?!”

“yes! you—you sat on me all careless and warm and—ugh, just get off before this gets worse!” he hisses, lifting you off his lap himself because there’s no way he’s letting you linger another second.

as soon as you’re off, he pulls a pillow onto his lap so fast, arms crossed over it like he’s shielding himself from embarrassment. you’re grinning now, and he can already see the teasing comments forming in your head.

he glares. “not a SINGLE fucking word.”

but you? you’re living for this.

⟢ minseok

he thinks he’s got this under control. you’re just sitting on his lap—it’s not a big deal. he’s calm, collected, completely unaffected.

…until you shift.

fuck.

his grip on his thighs tightens, his jaw clenches, and suddenly, he’s facing an actual crisis. the warmth of you, the way you settle against him—it’s too much. but minseok is a master of self-control, so he does what any composed man would do.

he stops breathing.

literally. he just holds his breath and wills his body to behave. maybe if he doesn’t move, doesn’t react, this will all go away.

except it doesn’t.

and then—you move again.

his whole body betrays him. his fingers twitch against his thighs, and he knows you felt it. he’s already preparing his exit strategy when you pause, turning slightly.

“…min?” your voice is laced with amusement, and that’s how he knows he’s doomed.

before you can say anything, he acts. his hands grip your waist firmly, and he lifts you off in one swift motion like you weigh nothing. no hesitation. no second-guessing.

“what the—” you start, landing beside him.

he clears his throat, brushing imaginary lint off his pants. “my leg was fallin’ asleep,” he lies, so effortlessly it’s almost believable—almost.

but then you see it—the way his ears are flaming red, the slight tension in his jaw, the subtle way he leans forward, forearms on his knees, like he’s casually repositioning himself.

you smirk. “your leg, huh?”

he exhales sharply through his nose. “yes.”

“so… absolutely nothing else going on?”

his jaw tightens. “not. another. word.”

you just grin. minseok might be good at keeping a poker face, but this? this is gold.

⟢ yixing

this car ride was supposed to be uneventful.

just a quick trip back home after hanging out, except the car was packed. too many people, not enough seats.

you stood there, debating your options, when yixing—sweet, unsuspecting yixing—patted his thigh.

“just sit here. the ride shouldn’t be too long,” he said, voice calm, completely oblivious to the mistake he was about to make.

you didn’t think twice about it. he was your best friend, and this wasn’t the first time you’d sat on his lap. so, without hesitation, you climbed in, adjusting yourself until you were comfortable.

yixing? oh, he was fine.

…for about thirty seconds.

then the driver hit a sharp turn, and you shifted.

and suddenly, he wasn’t fine anymore. his body went stiff. his hands, which had been resting politely at his sides, curled into fists.

his mind started racing. he tried to think of something—anything—to stop what was happening. cold showers. meditation. breathing exercises. nothing worked. his fingers twitched. his jaw tightened. he sucked in a slow breath through his nose, trying to stay calm. he could handle this.

you tilted your head slightly. “you okay?”

his eyes snapped forward, staring straight ahead like he was suddenly very interested in the road. “mhm,” he hummed. too quickly. too forced. suspicious.

so you shifted again, just to test your theory.

and that’s when you felt it.

oh.

“please don’t move.” his voice was low. strained. desperate.

you bit your lip, barely holding back your laughter. “wait—are you—?”

he cleared his throat, blinking rapidly. “no. i am not. ignore it.”

but you could feel how tense he was beneath you. how his breathing had changed. how he was gripping the seat so hard his knuckles had turned white.

“should i—” 

“if you move again, i swear i will open this door and tuck and roll.”

you burst out laughing. he did not.

“this is your fault,” he muttered, closing his eyes in suffering.

“my fault? i’m literally just sitting here.”

“exactly.”

and when the driver hit another bump and yixing physically jolted beneath you, his hands tightening on your waist like he was barely holding on? yeaaaah, you’re gonna tease him about this for awhile.

[lvrsturniolo]

“a boy two boys who are jacked and kind..”

‘Slim Pickins’

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws 💓

It was one of those random afternoons where you, Matt, and Chris were just hanging out at their house(Nick had just gotten back from a space camp meeting and was taking a nap),scrolling through TikTok and tossing around ideas for what to do. Chris was laying sprawled across the couch, scrolling through his For You Page, while Matt sat at the table pretending to be interested in something on his phone. You were sitting on the floor, back against the couch, doing the same thing until Chris suddenly sat up.

“Yo, have you two seen that one TikTok trend to the Sabrina carpenter song?,” he said, grinning like he just had the best idea ever.

“The Juno pose one? Cause I’m not doing that if that’s what you’re thinking of.”

The boy giggled softly. “No, no. It’s the one to- I think the songs called slim pickins?”

You squinted at him. “What’s that?”

He flipped his phone around to show a video of some dude lifting his girlfriend onto his shoulder.

“Absolutely not,” Matt muttered from across the room without even looking up.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Don’t even start. It’s not like you’d be the only one lifting her. We’d do it together. Team effort.”

You laughed, looking between them. “You seriously think both of you could pull that off? You’re barely strong enough to pick me up in general, let alone on your shoulder.”

Chris was already hyped. “Nah, we got this, it’ll be both of us together;piece of cake! We’re stronger than we look, right Matt?”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself.

“C’mon,” Chris said, nudging you. “You in? It’ll be funny. Worst case, we drop you and it’s great content.

“Worst case, I break a bone and you’re paying my hospital bill,” you shot back, but honestly, it sounded kind of fun.

Chris clapped his hands together, leaning down and kissing you softly on your forehead. “Thank you baby, it’ll be fun I promise.”

It took another ten minutes of you and Chris trying to convince Matt, but when he saw you giving him those eyes. The begging eyes,he finally caved. “Fine, but if this goes south, m’blaming both of you,” Matt grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris said, dragging you both to the center of the living room where there was more space. “Alright, so here’s the plan. You get in the middle, we both squat down, and then we lift you up. Easy.”

“Easy for you to say,” Matt muttered, shaking his head but moving into position anyway.

The first attempt was a disaster. You couldn’t stop laughing long enough to actually get steady, and Matt kept losing his grip.

“Bro, hold her fuckin legs higher!” Chris yelled, adjusting his grip on your thigh.

“I’m trying! She keeps moving!” Matt shot back, struggling to keep his balance.

“Guys, I swear if you drop me—” you started, but you were laughing too hard to finish the sentence.

By the third try, you were all red-faced and wheezing from laughing so much. Finally, Chris and Matt managed to get you up on their shoulders at the same time, and you threw your arms out like you were on top of the world.

“WE DID IT!” Chris yelled, spinning in a circle while still holding you up.

Matt looked up at you, smirking despite himself. “Not bad, huh?”

“Alright, alright, you proved me wrong,” you said, laughing and holding onto their heads for balance.

You all stood there for a second, just laughing like idiots and feeling way too proud of yourselves. It wasn’t perfect, but it was your kind of perfect.

“Alright, one more time for the TikTok,” Chris said, already setting up his phone.

Matt groaned. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! Why weren’t we filming before?”

“Come on, Matt,” you teased. “For the content!”

And honestly? It was worth every awkward, giggly attempt.

Mel speaks~I know this is shit but I tried 😋😋 I loveeeee Chratt so much

[fullofgutsndopamine]

What’re You After (Some Kind Of Disaster)

or: you and hasan are rivals for trivia night. Until one day, you come up with a plan.

tw/cursing, drinking

one of four miniseries

more hasan here

Thursday’s became your favorite day, easily.

cheap beer at your local pub, walking distance, and a chance to nerd out with your fellow classmates over a basket of too greasy fries.

everything would be perfect.

if it wasn’t for the other team.

the other team is everything you hate.

to begin with, when it’s a subject one of them know, they all have an elaborate hand shake they do, some kind of loud cheer and high fives passed around the table, clapping each other on the shoulders-

and they always looked over at your table, smaller, but crowded, elbow to elbow with your friends, poured over the piece of paper with the questions on them-

they were polar opposites, acted like this was some kind of event they stumbled into, by accident and oops became the top team.

they were cocky, and your team was determined to knock them down a few pegs.

You come in early to steal their table.

it’s petty, at the very least, but part of a strategy you and your best friend Sarah, spent the week planning. Anything to throw them off their game, to confuse them.

you walk in straighter than usual, shoulders squared, ready to proudly take the table in the corner, right by the trivia hosts stand-

and the son of the bitch is already there.

you can’t remember his name. you try to not remember your enemies name, but if you thought really hard about it, you could swear it was something with a ‘H’. Henry, maybe? No, that’s not right. it was a name you hadn’t heard before-

you get into the threshold of the door and his eyes meet yours with a smirk, sets his pen down and takes his glasses off, eyes narrow as he picks up his drink and takes a sip.

bastard.

you duck your head and walk to the normal table, about to text Sarah to abort the plan, when you slide into the seat, ready for it to be over-

“were you trying to take our table?”

you jump when you hear his voice, fumble with your phone, don’t want him to get the satisfaction of seeing your face red-

“Why would we want your stupid fuckin’ table?” you call back, not looking at him as you open a text to Sarah: “it’s not the table that’s making you win.”

he laughs, appears at your table, “That’s right. it’s skill.”

“skill is putting it generously. cheating, is the running theory-“

“You all think we’re smart enough to cheat? flattered, truly. This seat taken?” he asks, pulling out the wooden stool but not sitting.

“is-is this your fucked up way to try and psych the opposing team out?” a smirk falls on your lips and you hope it covers for the red on your face, “are you all threatened by us?”

you try to ignore the hurt evident on his face.

“Oh, just like trying to steal our table, yeah?” he pushes the stool in. “Good luck tonight, you all will need it.”

and he stalks back to his table.

okay, so you sort of feel like a dick, yes.

he seems the most reserved out of the table, like he accidentally stumbled into this group of people. sure, he shares the high fives and whatnot, but when they huddle together, the rare times they do, he always seems on the border, on the outside looking in.

you turn in your seat, ready to offer the seat up again but his glasses are back on the crook of his nose and he’s poured over a book-

luckily, the rest of your team meets up before the guilt can really eat at you, something for later tonight, when your seconds from sleep, to keep you up, is when you’ll remember this-

Annie slides in across from you.

“So,” she begins talking right away, picking up your glass of water and drinking immediately without asking. Annie talks a million miles an hour, loudly, and everyone else is simply along for the ride, “I did some research on pen names, but like, fuck, what an absolute rabbit hole that was. Did you order food yet?”

she continues talking, mostly about ordering food for the table, and your half listening as his table fills in behind you. (Was it an H on second thought? is it? wade?)

“those bastards are going down.” is the first thing Sarah says when she comes in, her book back is overflowing as usual, and she has three different pens and two pencils in the bin of her hair- “i brought my lucky charm.”

Annie groans comically, “Sarah, they already don’t take us seriously. they’re going to take us less seriously if you take your stupid fucking glass elephant out-“

“hey!” Sarah narrows her eyes, “we don’t talk bad about him. no disrespect. Here, now he’s pointing at you. Look of shame. take that in, babe.” as she turns it towards her.

“this is why they don’t take us seriously,” you groan, rubbing your forehead, “Henry or wade or whatever the fuck- saw me try and steal their table.”

“Henry?” Sarah says at the exact time as Annie says: “William?” with disgust.

their heads whip around to the other table, catch him looking at you and they duck further in their seats before turning to you: “His name is Hasan-“

“are you fraternizing with the enemy, you son of a bitch?” Annie says immediately, and her voice is loud enough you throw a used napkin at her in hopes it doesn’t draw more attention to her.

“i’m not fraternizing with anyone. keep your voice down, jesus christ.” you groan, “he just saw i tried to take the table and talked to me, briefly.”

“Spill.” Sarah says immediately, “Did he say anything that we could use against him? Did he admit to cheating?”

“The complete opposite,” you sigh, tearing at your napkin, feeling like a dick again. “He asked to sit down and i all but shooed him away. He looked like a beaten dog.”

Annie and Sarah look at each other from the corner of their eyes, a shared look with a smirk.

“what?” you groan, “i hate that look. what?”

annie and sarah both lean in at the same time, almost hitting heads with you, “listen. we have an idea, okay-“

Sarah interrupts, “and listen to the whole thing before you shoot it down.”

“Ask him out.”

You snort. it’s loud, and ugly, and if your mother was here, she’d grip her necklace and glare at you about how ladies act in public-

“Yeah!” Annie says, “Listen. Okay. you ask him out. distract the other team so he’s so lovesick or busy or whatever that he misses or the team falls apart.”

you shake your head, “y’all are out of your god damn minds-“

“Hasan!” Annie breaks from the huddle, waves him over, “cmere.”

“Annie, no. you son of a bitch-“

Hasan was drawing in his notebook, wasn’t paying much attention to his small group, narrows his eyes, but obeys, stalks over.

“If you all want a truce, i already tried to make one with this one here earlier,” he teases, jams his thumb at you. “and the answer was a loud no.”

“That’s only cause they wanted to ask you out for a drink after,” annie takes the lead, “to celebrate”

“celebrate?” Hasan smirks.

“either way it goes, a drink on us.” Annie insists.

his eyes narrow, not sold yet.

“How about this, if you win, you two get a drink together. our treat. if we win, we’ll leave you and your team alone.”

he snorts, “didn’t you win a certificate last week for longest running streak of not winning?”

“dick.” you say gently under your breath, but he doesn’t hear it.

he shakes his head, “yknow what? deal. I could always use a drink.”

and he sticks his hand in the middle of the table, annie going for the shake but he ignores it, shakes it off, ducks his head so he’s looking at you: “it’s a deal, yeah? c’mon.”

you hesitate long enough for annie and sarah to both kick your shins under the table and you sit up a little straighter, swallow all the pride you have: “it’s a deal.” as you tighten your hand around his.

he doesn’t see the smirks and shared glances the three of you share.

[officer-sebastian]

*Sebastian huffed and squeezed his way through an unexpected number of scientists and other employees through Sector E’s halls. Giving quick “excuse me’s” and “pardon me’s” as he kept rubbing shoulders with lab coats. Sebastian figured that this stretch of the Science Team must be clocking out for a late lunch, he’s never seen any sector’s halls so packed before, unless you count the highest level of top-side customer service and protection from the general and oddball public.*

Christ al’mighty Ah’m jus’ tryn’a git ta mah shift, y’know, th’shift that keeps y’all from actin’ like dogs without horses.. Clearly it ain’t helpin’ much, Jesus.

*After a few more left turns, the checkpoint position he had been assigned comes into view, another guard tapping his fingers on the desk and perking up at the sight of Sebastian.*

“Christ, Seb, what took you so fuckin’ long, eh? Was ‘bout to just clock out and leave this place hanging.”

*Sebastian just chuckled* Yeah, yeah, mighty sorry ‘bout that. Fer some damn reason th’halls were packed full of them lab rats an’ Ah could hardly git past. Go take’a piss an’ then cool off on yer lunch, Pauly, Ah got it from ‘ere.

*The guard scoffed and crossed his arms* “Whatever. Thankfully those old cronies only now just took lunch, what ever reason you’re filed under checkpoint over here, you’ll be glad to know it’s practically empty now. Have fun staring at the wall.”

Yer too kind. Ah take it ya prob’ly scared ‘em off an’-

*There was the faintest rumble between under their feet. Several lights from down the hall suddenly flicker and blow out, the emergency lights immediately turn on, painting the metallic walls an eerie red. Sebastian goes quiet at that, steadily eyeing the darkened hallway and listening close for anything suspicious.*

*Officer Pauly swallows audibly, eyes still on Sebastian* “The hell was tha-“

*BUZWARN* Warning. Power Outages Detected In [SECTOR E]. All Affected Personnel Please Be Advised.

*BUZWARN* Warning. Unauthorized Biological Forms Detected In [SECTOR E]. All Non-Disaster Response Personnel Evacuate Immediately.

*GARBLED BUZWARN* Warning. W-Warning. Security i̴̜̒̚͠n̵̢̫̞͍̍̆ ̵̢̦͈̜̏̂̑̉[̶̨̰̹́͛̑̓��S̶̢̰̤͛̀ͅĖ̵̟̲̌Ć̴̥͍̣̞́̐T̴̯̿O̴̻̮͚̅Ṛ̵̠̟͍͒͆́̄ ̵͔̓Ḙ̷́̏͘]̷̧̪͗̎͗͋ ̵̠̝͌͜͝R̵̖̼̰̬̅̍e̴̱̔͒̌p̷̡̙̥̜̊͆õ̸̻r̴̗̤̀̽̏̇t̶̨̧̺̫͠ ̵̞̻̲͑̑́̐T̷̯̰̘̦̍̒̌ơ̴̼͔̿ ̵̘̣́[̶̖̰̓̇̓Ḁ̸͓̞̿̂̔̌D̷̞̫̣̻͗͗V̴͓̿A̸̢̻̤̘͂N̶̳̙̫̊͂C̷̜͎̆E̴̙̘͛̉̈̕D̷͙͕̜̹́͝ ̴̠͖̗͛͝ͅB̷̲̞͊̊͗Ḯ̸̘Ợ̵̩̒̏̇L̸͉̖̒̄̆̉O̵͇̅̀͘͝G̶͓͇̊̓̽Ḭ̴̦̥͕̌̌̊Ç̷̓A̴̮͉̩̋̀̀ͅL̶͎̈̆̇̚ ̸̗͕͌R̴̨̰̋̾͝È̷̺͕̏̓ͅS̴͕͆̚E̴͚̩̫̍̀̆͜͝A̷̼͋̃̍R̸̤̳͑̚C̴̩͕̼̬͠H̶̥̤̓ ̴͖̦̱̈̓͂̈͜C̶͙̿̒O̶̼̖̳̼͆M̷̠̖̬̦̽̾P̵̠͕̰̈͂̇L̸̝̀E̴̺̮̱̊̈̑͠X̵̛̗̹̂]̷͍́̃͑́ ̷̬͈̬͖̋͆Ị̸̛̩̲̦͒̅m̷̦̠͋̇̃͠m̵̖͕̙͉̿̚ë̸̬́̋͌d̴͈̹̝̀i̵̤̔̈́à̴̟͇̍̓͌t̸̲͍̦͒̽̄e̵̠̽̈́̇̈́l̶̰̍͜y̷̡̧̘̒̏̈́̈

*The two security guards listened in shocked silence as the automated comms buzzed in and out, the emergency lights flicking at the same time. Sebastian persed his lips in a straight line, taking a deep breath and suddenly pushing Pauly into the checkpoint box*

“THE HELL ARE YOU-?!” *The guard began to shout in protest, before Sebastian tossed him inside and shut the door. Pauly gets up immediately, pounding on the glass* “OI ASSHOLE! The fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

*Sebastian snapped his fingers and put one up to his lips* Quiet. Ah’m goin’ ta check it out. It ain’t lookin’ good on our department if they go an’ lose two men on th’job. Ya sit tight an’ wait it out fer me, ‘kay?

*The guard sputtered a few times at that response, gesturing his hands wildly before sighing and giving up any retort, having known Sebastian long enough to know arguing with him like this is fruitless* “If you go and get yourself killed I won’t be there for whatever shoddy funeral they give you. It’ll be all your fault down to the grave, Seb.”

Thank ya, kindly, Pauly. How ‘bout we go an’ git’a beer with th’boys if Ah make back it in at least 3/4s? Ah’ll make a’bet with ya. *Sebastian clicks off the safety of his pistol and checks the magazine while he talks*

“Wh- Pfft, fucksake, Sebastian. Fine, whatever, I’ll bet. Quit wasting time.”

*Sebastian nods and runs down the hallway, making a salute with his pistol before turning around completely*

[bonefall]

what cats are still prayed to and revered by the clans besides firestar or skystar? i fuckin LOVE the patron spirits thing you have going on in this rewrite, it’s so cool to see what cats are worshipped and why

There's a lot of them! I don't think there could ever be a "comprehensive list" without just listing most of StarClan. See, most cats will typically value their own family over others, leading to the patrons "waxing and waning" in popularity over the generations.

But here's some of the ones who are pretty consistently popular!

Thunderstar = Justice Comeuppance, fair judgement, and mercy are also things he can be invoked for. Remember that a Patron gains its power from belief. Much like how Saint Michael was once a patron of healing as well as war, associations for BB!StarClan cats can shift over time.

Bumblemumble = Speech, Diplomacy She became less popular in the Chivalric Period, but was a favored patron for Pinestar to invoke. She never totally went away, even though her name has become "Bombolmlemlaan," 'Sentence-Tonguetwister,' over time. (Her name is also used in reference to "being tongue-tied." Fitting that she's a bit hard to translate into English!)

Acorn Swoop = Prra A Clan culture-specific value. Perfect timing, promptness, coincidences of good planning. Arriving in the nick of time. Acorn Swoop is a good example of how cats can wax and wane as well; when Hallowflight dies (he is alive to the current arc in BB), RiverClan will probably prefer invoking him over Acorn for a while.

Sparrow Heart = Loyalty and Fidelity. This BURNS her a new one, btw. Many of the other spirits as old as her have begun to lost touch with their mortal lives, but she didn't join Clear Sky because she loves him. She didn't serve him for his own ends. She wanted his power, and in death she's been reduced to his eternal stooge. She craves his throne. (And I have to leave it there until we find out what the next few arcs have in store :3)

Speckletail = Protection Against Natural Disaster Storms, deforestation, pollution, whatever. Speckletail is invoked to defend Clans against oncoming doom, because girlie took out a bulldozer and the battle culture is obsessed with that

Stonefur = Winning the War/Losing the Battle An important god for lost causes. When you aren't able to win, he is invoked to make your death mean something. Needletail, for the first time in a long time, requested for StarClan to call down his strength.

Blackstar = Redemption And change in a better direction. Said to be reflected in frogs in particular, how they go from tadpoles to full creatures, associated with wetland health thanks to his ambitious Bog Project.

Sundrown Patrol = Directions Most of them are not dead yet. Feathertail is currently the only one in the role and protects travelers generally, but eventually her and her Cohorts will comfortably divide up the cardinal directions. Feathertail is South (Towards the Mountain), Tawny is West (Towards the Ocean), Bramble is North (Towards the Lake) and Crowfeather is East (Into the Wilderness).

Leafpool = Clarity Leafpool Moonpool is one of the most popular young spirits. In difficult situations, she is invoked for StarClan to see your sins and understand that you are trying to find the holiest way through them. The Firekin family is going to be a very strong pantheon eventually.

Palefoot = Bodies that Can't Be Recovered/Closure Anon suggestion that is canon now. Palefoot was murdered by Batear for killing Fenneldust and shoved into a bog where his family would never find him, because Batear was not allowed to go to ThunderClan to sit vigil for his best friend. When someone is lost and can't be buried, Palefoot is often invoked for comfort. He is actually sort of displacing Turtle Heart, who used to function in a similar way. She is being pushed into a more specific role for Lost Parents, not bodies or closure in general.

In addition, Dark Forest Spirits are also powerful... and thanks to the fact you have to use a direct line to get to them, quite capable of granting strength without holding back. They have no StarClan to answer to if they blessed the plans of the wrong cat.

So they can do curses for you, if THAT is what you're seeking. A whole lot of these cats tend to provide various types of revenge lmao... "We serve Vengeance here, sir."

Batear and Fenneldust = Retribution Evolved from a mix of how Batear's target went BEYOND his victim to deny closure to the family, and also the Fepfr which he was named for, Long-Eared Bat, which in Clan culture is said to have a modest song of mourning for every bat wrongfully killed. Fenneldust actually LOVED that he was willing to be so spiteful for her, and followed him to the Dark Forest. So if you want, you can call for them to cause pain to people who wronged you. If your case is bad though, they'll fuck with you instead. They aren't MALICIOUS spirits though... just mischievous.

Mapleshade = Revenge If you want your target to DIE, you give her a call. She is ACTIVELY malicious. She will stop at nothing to kill someone she agrees should go, even going as far as to fight a Fetcher to drag the target down with her. If you're just miffed at someone and want them to get karma, you talk to Batsy and Fenfen. If you want BLOOD, you talk to Mapleshade. But be prepared, because she is just as dangerous as that implies.

Cloudberry and Ryewhisker = Secrecy An obvious one, but one of the gentler requests of the Dark Forest. They will help you hide forbidden love from your Clan, and can be prayed to when you're having a close call and may be discovered.

[infinitethree]

Given the nature of the information they're dealing with, the decision was made to drag Vio and Lucid into the mix as well.

Aster is relieved that Daz agreed to do so. He’s even more relieved that because Lucid is involved, they can't meet in the secluded bunker of the Council HQ.

It's a dual-purpose meeting. Firstly and most importantly, they need to share the information they learned about the Showrunner. 

Not just the new stuff– though those bombshells are, of course, the driving force of this. The older information that the Council is aware of will have to be shared, too.

Secondly, though…they need to figure out how to free Innit.

Regardless of Daz’s stance on the matter, leaving Innit trapped isn't an option.

For one, it's unimaginably inhumane. Innit clearly just wants to be able to do basic things. Its willing to be enchanted with loyalty to be able to do something as simple as look where it wants to and read books.

Daz and Innit being forced to stay together like that is a recipe for disaster, too. Innit can't get therapy when it doesn't have a voice, after all.

Plus its already proven willing to punish Daz. If it decided to go nuclear…what could they really do to stop it, bar putting Daz in a coma?

So, yeah. Innit deserves to be free, and Daz deserves to have his head to himself again.

…Even if that’s a bit hypocritical for Aster to want for him.

Their chosen gathering place is the Welcome Wagon. It's meant for discussions, there aren't currently any people in the rooms upstairs, and all four employees are a part of the meeting.

The first matter of business is to give Vio a brief rundown of Daz, the Council, and associated information.

Daz is the one who starts the main topic, and he does so by projecting a drawing of the Showrunner on the screen.

Raine’s style is immediately obvious, at least to Aster.

Deadly serious, Daz says, “This is the Showrunner. What we knew as the Scribe– that entity is someone else entirely. Their name was just…borrowed. Aster and I– we met the Showrunner.”

Aster adds, “Innit, too.” “Are you seriously still– this is fucking important!”

He snaps back, “Can you stop being petty for like five seconds? Its presence there was kind of a big deal! The Showrunner likes your admin half, asshole! We can't ignore that fact!”

Daz glares at him a moment, then turns to the others. “The bigger piece of info is that Time isn't real.”

Day, Vio, and Theo all look incredulous. “They’re very fuckin’ real, don't say shit like that,” Theo tells them. It’s a warning, because to Theo that kind of disrespect is liable to earn the wrath of a god.

Since Theo is not only a mythology buff but has met several gods…if anyone has reason to be twitchy about that sort of thing, it's him.

He is the that started the knock-on-wood trend of assuring Time that any potentially negative thing is said without any negativity, too.

“I'll humor this if you can explain who the fuck we've done– everything for. If you can't, I'm walking out right now,” Day warns. 

It’s clear he’s not kidding about that.

Aster takes a deep breath and says, “The Scribe, apparently. The Showrunner claimed that Time was just a ‘sockpuppet’ to be used as the Scribe needed.”

He grimaces. “Which, I mean…if the two of them are working together, and the Showrunner is the one behind the questions and Observers…”

Theo suddenly straightens up in a way that Aster realizes means he’s actually using his head. When he wants to, Theo can be smart…he just generally doesn’t bother to want that.

“Are you fuckin’ sure the one who was chatting with us was the Showrunner? Not the Observers, but the fuckin’-- the other shit. You two must know what I mean, yeah?”

Daz’s expression is grim. “There’s no doubt in my mind.”

A soft hiss escapes from Theo as he slumps backwards. He scrubs a hand down his face and looks to Day.

“They fuckin’-- first time we heard them, you remember what they said? We fuckin’ pointed out that Time would be pissed, n’--”

Realization visibly washes over Day as he finishes, “And they laughed. That we ‘weren’t supposed to know’, but it was still funny that we’d try to get Time involved.”

“Fuckin’ shit.”

That’s a sentiment that Aster can fully get behind. None of this is remotely fun to learn, and in fact radically alters what they assumed were core facets of their lives.

Lucid looks stricken. “What are we even supposed to do with this info, anyway?”

Rolling his eyes, Daz tells him, “You? Nothing. But given your position and how big of a deal this is, I can’t justify keeping you out of the loop.”

There’s a long beat, and then Daz adds, “And I wasn’t going to bring anyone else to the Council rooms. If it’s not a full secret from you, it’s pointless to shut you out.”

Aster sighs. “Yeahhhh. The Council HQ is kind of special to us.” “You’ve always hated how it looks,” Daz scoffs. Aster rolls his eyes and tells him, “Yeah, well, it’s grown on me. Kind of hard for it not to, with how much time I spend there.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Lucid mumbles.

Raine pats his shoulder and tells him, “You’ll get used to it. They fight constantly.”

“For fucked up reasons, apparently,” Khons reminds them.

“Do I want to–” “It’s literally none of your business,” Daz hisses at the admin.

Lucid shrinks down in his seat, hands raised defensively. “Okay, not asking then!”

Daz scrubs a hand through his hair as he swipes the screen to show the next image. “This is the Showrunner’s domain. I have no fucking idea how useful knowing this will be, but I’m not leaving something like that on the table.”

Aster studies the art piece for a moment. It’s very close to what he remembers– Daz’s memory and Raine’s skill are an excellent combo.

He says, “The seats seemed like they stretched forever. A few were occupied, but only two were clearly taken. The figures had different levels of definition and the Showrunner called them ‘representations of the audience’. I’m…guessing those are Observers.”

With a nod, Daz confirms, “If I had to make a theory…the more clear they are, the more frequently they show up.”

He reaches up and smacks a hand on one of the solid ones in what seemed like the VIP section.

“One of these two is probably the new one who’s been an asshole.”

Aster grimaces. “Speaking of Observers…” “There’s no need to bring up–”

Ignoring the bastard, Aster continues, “Innit needs to be given a body. Keeping it there goes beyond caution and into inhumane. It fucked up, yes, but– shit, didn’t all of us do that, too? Half of Sanctuary are war criminals in some capacity!”

Theo immediately argues, “It’d fuckin’ attack Lee, wouldn’t it?”

Aster shakes his head. “No. It– Theo, I spoke to it. I saw a– a timelapse of its entire life. Before the Observers came, the only people who knew about it were Dream and Daz. Both of them hurt it deeply.”

He gestures at Daz, continuing, “You’re asking a fully sentient and sapient person to be trapped with someone who tortured it for three years. Daz didn’t just ignore it, Theo– he shut it out entirely. He trapped it in a room and left it to rot.”

“It put me in a coma because I refused to kill a child,” Daz snaps. “A child it still hates!”

“I believe it wants freedom more than it wants revenge,” Aster argues.

Day’s arms fold across his chest. “How can we trust that? How can we trust it won’t try anything?”

Aster stares him in the eyes. “It said it would willingly be enchanted with loyalty, as long as I was the one it was bound to.”

The room is quiet.

“Day– you know how bad Daz’s enchantment was. The fact that it wants freedom so badly that it would be the one to suggest that…”

Daz tells them, “It couldn’t feel it. It’s never had any senses beyond sound and sight.”

Hands thrown wide for emphasis, Aster snaps, “And you think that isn’t fucking horrifying?! It wants to choose where to look, Daz! To be able to listen to the music it wants or eat or walk outside!”

Aster huffs at that.

“The reason I got on this topic is because Innit has at least three Observers it considers friends. I saw them as animals with a silvery-lavender swirly color–”

Vio sighs softly. “Same as the portals. No wonder you realized the connection.”

Sneering, Daz corrects, “No, this dipshit didn’t put the pieces together himself.”

Choosing to ignore that particular jab, Aster continues, “And, again; the Showrunner likes Innit. They sure as fuck don’t like Daz, but they– literally gave his admin half headpats. And squished its cheeks.”

He points out, “As cynical as it sounds? We have a person who the omnipotent ruler of time and reality is fond of. That same person is, as most of this room just heard–”

“I fuckin’ heard it too,” Theo tells him. “Fuckin’ Observers love it back. Enough to ask for it to be treated fuckin’ nice.”

Aster nods. “Either we have someone with all that weight behind them on our side, or we make an enemy out of all of them.”

“Innit wants to see Sanctuary burn,” Daz tries to tell them. “It fucking hates every single person here, and none more than Lee.”

Eyes narrowing, Aster argues, “Pretty sure it hates you the most, actually.” “Yeah, well– I’m used to dealing with it.” “It’s proven willing to make you suffer, and forgive me for not wanting to see what a full mental break looks like from you.”

Daz opens his mouth, but Aster cuts him off by turning back to the others. “One way or another, Innit will be freed. I haven’t just been seeing Daz’s past– I’ve been seeing the future, too. And Innit was sure as fuck walking around there!”

The bastard looks alarmed. “What? When the– why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!”

He folds his arms over his chest. “I didn’t exactly want to get into it.” “You know full goddamned well that’s not good enough. Answer the fucking question, Aster.”

Uhg, there’s no way he’ll let this go.

Reluctantly, he admits, “...At some point in the future, Daz and I get together. And, uh– I saw Innit at the wedding. It…handed Daz over to me, actually.”

Daz takes a deep breath, and guessing what he’ll say, Aster rolls his eyes and adds, “And Day handed me over to you, before you get pissy.”

“Excuse me?”

He shrugs helplessly at Day’s bafflement. “I desperately wish I were making it up. The idea of getting together with Daz, of all fucking people–” “Says the one who apparently gets fucked by me.” “Really? Really?”

Like a lightswitch, Daz flips his personality to a much warmer one. Unfortunately, Aster can tell the difference– there’s too much of an edge of malice in the way he smiles as he drapes his arms over his shoulders.

Cooing, Daz asks, “What’s the matter, baby? Worried you’ll think too hard about it here?”

He feels his face heat up despite himself. “First of all– I haven’t actually seen anything, just enough to know that– that happens. Second of all, get your hands off of me before I break your arms.”

Pouting at him, the fucking sociopath he apparently marries says, “But, Star…despite claiming you hate it, you’re getting all flustered.”

Aster gets a split-second flash of a warm giggle from Future-Daz of, “My sweet, snuggly Star!”

He grimaces. “I’m pretty sure I suffer a psychotic break to actually be interested in you.”

And he sees himself yet again, this time sitting in the Swords and Shields training hall. He’s next to Future-Theo, who seems like he’s really looking at Future-Aster for the first time in a long time. “...If it’s not too weird n’ personal, uh…how did you know? That you, y’know– fuckin’ liked him.”

Future-Aster seems to need a while to gather his thoughts. “Once I got closer to him, I started seeing all the things that were…really good. His quirks stopped being annoying and started being charming. I would get excited to come home, not because we did anything all that interesting but just because…I liked spending time with him.”

There’s a soft, fond smile as Future-Aster absently runs a thumb over what looks disturbingly like a bite mark on his shoulder. “I don’t really even remember what it’s like not to love him. He’s…he’s everything to me. The world feels brighter and happier now that I wake up next to him every morning.”

Future-Theo opens his mouth, but is interrupted by Future-Daz coming into the room.

The moment he clocks Aster’s lack of a shirt– which is how he usually works out, it’s annoying to have them get soaked with sweat– Future-Daz turns bright pink and demands, “Star, why are you– where is your shirt?!

Instead of a normal, reasonable answer, Future-Aster just grins and leans back. “I forgot you bit me, sorry.” “You don’t look sorry at all.” “And you don’t like you hate seeing me like this, soooo–”

Future-Daz huffs, hands going to his hips. “You’re– you’re the worst.” “Mm-hmm.” “Awful. Just, just terrible.” “Indeed.” “A jerk who likes making fun of me and making me embarrassed.”

Future-Aster reaches out and tugs his significant other into his lap. “And yet you still like me.”

Despite another, somewhat sullen huff, Future-Daz doesn’t argue that point.

When Aster is back in the present, Daz is staring intently at him. That faux-flirting is gone, though he’s still got his arms over his shoulders. “What did you see?”

Though he could answer this in a dozen ways, he chooses the pettiest he can think of. “You being easily embarrassed and down bad for me.”

Ignoring the way Daz splutters, he shoves his arms off and turns to face the others again. “Anyway. It doesn’t actually matter if you agree or not. Either you cooperate, or I use the wish I’ve earned via seeing Daz’s bullshit and grant it a body myself.”

Lee finally speaks up. “Ignoring all of– that? I think we should do it. It’s fucked up to keep it locked up like that. If I’m the one supposedly in danger, I should be the one to decide if it’s worth it or not. I think it is. Innit doesn’t have to like me– the server is plenty big for both of us.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Aster smiles fondly at his charge.

Then Lee continues, “And I don’t think it’s fair to make it be enchanted, too. It sets a really nasty precedent and would erode trust in not just Lucid, but everyone who had a part in that. Myself included.”

It’s an extremely good point. Aster nods, brow furrowed. “It– the idea of doing that makes me really uncomfortable.”

He gestures at Theo, who seems unsure. “You’ve got oceans of blood on your hands. I don’t think Innit was right, but I think it felt it was justified.”

“Lee was fuckin’ six,” Theo tells him. “It felt a baby admin, one who could control them because he’s a Dream. Unlike with Day and Lucid, who Daz did not trust–”

“Wait, you didn’t trust us? Then why did you let us undo the loyalty? Especially if you knew about code already,” Lucid interrupts.

Daz, visibly annoyed, snaps, “We could track your coding. If you had done anything we didn’t like, I’d have ruined you.”

Despite the admin’s doubt, Lee nods. “He can do that. He’ll correct my work when I’m not even showing him my console and when I didn’t even think he was paying attention. It’s freaky.”

That little side path resolved, Aster continues, “Daz was way less willing to hurt Lee. Innit, freshly betrayed, deeply traumatized, and desperate to die, went on high alert because it saw Lee as a threat.”

Theo repeats, “He was six!”

Aster responds, “And when Daz was six, he decided to rip out the parts of him that were ‘bad and wrong’ because his brother is a fucking monster. Again, I’m not saying Innit was right! It was a fucked up thing to do! But it was also a trauma response. For trauma that has only festered in the meantime, because unlike Daz, Innit has been alone.”

As much as he hates to do this, he appeals to the one who will hold ultimate authority in this matter.

“You know damn fucking well what isolation does to a person. You’re debating condemning someone to a fate very literally worse than death because you don’t like that they fucked up. Let me remind you that you fucked up pretty damn bad, too. And, again– if all of you refuse, I’ll use the wish on this. Having the memories of its life in my head is bad enough, but knowing I’ve abandoned someone in those conditions…I’d never be able to live with myself.”

He can tell Daz is seething, but for once he doesn’t care.

The bastard is wrong about this. Whatever punishment Innit may have deserved– what its gotten has far outstripped that.

Vio says, “Aster has a point. I know this is a touchy matter, but leaving Innit in there…that’s not acceptable. Not only would we incur the wrath of the Observers and likely the Showrunner, but we have no guarantee that it wouldn’t find another way to escape. We can extend a hand, or risk Innit being free with no reason not to raze the server to the ground.”

Day scrubs a hand down his face, which has a sour expression. “...If we’re doing this, its getting put into therapy with Iatros, too. And I want it nowhere near Summer Hills.”

There’s a sudden, bitter laugh from Daz. “Oh, wow. That’s actually– actually an interesting idea.”

The bastard grips his shoulder with more force than Aster was aware he was capable of.

“It proposes that it could live with Aster. If its so fucking attached to him, and Aster is so goddamned determined to go forward with this stupid fucking plan– surely he can open his shitty little house to that thing, huh?”

He considers where would even work. “I– there’s literally nowhere for it to go. I’m willing to have an extension or something, I guess?”

Daz’s fingers dig into his shoulder. Voice a low, dangerous hiss, he warns, “If you can’t keep it in line, I’ll personally make your life a living hell.”

A shudder goes down his spine. Daz’s wrath is not a small thing, as proven by him killing his ex-mentor in cold blood and destroying him the worst way he could.

“And you should try group counseling with it. Maybe you’ll be less of a fucking sociopath when you learn to at least tolerate a fundamental part of you.”

Flippantly, and forcibly removing Daz’s hand from his shoulder, he adds, “If you want to do the whole song and dance about me getting on your good side? Maybe be less of an insufferable bastard, first. Your trauma is valid but your responses to it sure as fuck aren’t.”

Getting into his space, he growls, “I should be at your throat for the fact that you’ve spent three fucking years conditioning me to hate you. I should be furious you’ve actively abused my trauma to make sure you never had to deal with yours! You’ve refused to actually let yourself heal because you’re a coward, Daz.”

Daz’s eyes thin into slits as he snaps back, “I don’t need your preaching, considering you–” “I’ve fucking told you, I had no idea it would be like this! I also, shockingly, didn’t realize exactly how broken you actually are! I was sure you’d hate me for not taking the offer. It’s a wish that can bend the laws of reality, and I thought you would be mature enough to recognize that even though it sucks to have someone know more than you wanted…that you’d agree it’s worth it.”

He takes a step back and scoffs, “Fuck, at times like these, I can see why the Showrunner hates you. You’re a selfish asshole who only seems to do good things when it’s convenient for you.”

As he turns on his heel and stalks out, he finishes off with, “Lately, I wonder if I was right to take your hand at all.”

Aster knows he’ll regret those words later, in one form or another.

But he’s also sick and tired of Daz kicking him in the dick because he’s pissed that he’s lost control.

At no point did Aster ask for any of this! He hates having to be the one to drag Daz kicking and screaming into a better place! He hates seeing his past and the trauma that have shaped him into the paranoid bastard that he is today!

A lot of the time, he kind of hates seeing the future, too. It only makes their current relationship feel worse, because Aster can see that Daz is capable of being good to him.

Even something as simple as the two of them watching a movie together feels so fucking bittersweet, because it’s clear they do eventually come to love each other.

Yet, right now, Daz hates him. Whatever his actual feelings before, right now they’re at the lowest they’ve ever been.

…There aren’t many times that Aster has seriously considered the benefits of getting drunk. The idea of losing control of himself gives him hives.

But, honestly, the chance of shutting off his own heavily leashed anger and resentment for the night sounds amazing.

This’ll be fun to discuss with his therapist. The poor Puffy has no goddamned idea the shit he’s kept bottled up until now, but it’s beyond time that he start doing so.

[defire]

Ghost of Seattle Chapter 70

Previous

Content: gangs, living weapon recovery, discussion of trauma

"Kids fighting? That's as bad as the Shivers. No morals. None."

Kiraba sat with his legs curled up on the couch that Era told him to sit on, staring at the floor. He was in so much pain he could hardly think, but he was trying hard to wrap his mind around what had just happened, and he couldn't. He scooted off the couch, eyes big and wide, and moved stiffly to sit against the wall next to Ghost and Buddy.

"That old psycho was your boss?" Kiraba said slowly. 

"I tried to warn you," Ghost said, slowly eating a whole tomato like an apple. His eyes still darted around the room, like he was hungry for disaster.

"How do you even have an appetite?" Kiraba said.

Ghost shrugged his right shoulder.

Buddy leaned in and whispered something to Ghost, whose big eyes flicked over to Kiraba's face. With those freaky tiny pupils.

"What?" Kiraba said.

"Because," Ghost said to Buddy. "I don't know. I like him."

"I whispered on purpose!" She elbowed him.

"Ouch." Ghost protested.

The people in the room, milling around packing, glanced over at them. They were mostly Yellowcaps and they were going to go soon. 

"You like me?" Kiraba smirked. "Thanks. I feel the same."

Ghost stopped looking comfortable, eyes cast down at his knees.

"I think you got the wrong impression."

"But... Why would you say that?"

Buddy had looked away like she was dwelling on something else.

"You saw it." Ghost said, looking at him. "Didn't you? The type of people we are?""

When he turned, the 3 bloody lumps on his forehead showed, recalling that moment more vividly to Kiraba. 

"What--was I supposed to see something bad about you, when your boss was going ...totally psycho on us?" Kiraba said. His eyes widened, remembering it.

"Psycho?" Ghost smirked without happiness. "You have no idea."

"That was so... horrifying." Kiraba said. "And besides... I don't think you did anything wrong."

Ghost stared at him.

"Those were my people beating you." He said. "And your family. And... Oldman was telling you the truth. He was being unusually gentle. And I took his orders for 3 years."

He paused, eyes narrowing at Kiraba.

"You still think I'm fuckin innocent?"

"...But you're just a kid."

"I'm 15."

Same age as Kiraba.

"...You were right." Kiraba said. 

"Yeah." Ghost scoffed. "I know."

"No, I mean you were right, that I didn't get it."

"Specifically, you don't fuckin get it."

Buddy looked up at Ghost when he said that. She kept studying his face, then looking away, confused. 

Kiraba's mind kept replaying those hints of something much colder than he could comprehend--the way Ghost stole his knife, then just... executed his former partners. The look in his eyes when he almost stabbed Kiraba. He wasn't scared for his life, he'd just... decided to.

And then Oldman; without a hint of hesitation as he ripped Kiraba's wrist and shoulder out of place. He'd intentionally torn his tendons, knowing precisely what he was doing. The way he simply dismissed Kiraba's words with, "Knife him." 

Kiraba shuddered. Exactly what would it take to be so harsh, without a hint of human empathy or remorse?

"How do you guys just..." Kiraba hesitated, swallowing. "Go cold."

Ghost frowned, throwing the last piece of tomato into the middle of the room. 

"What do you mean?"

"Are you actually able to... disregard that your enemy is human?"

Buddy looked up at Ghost to hear his answer.

"Buddy can't." Ghost said.

"Can you?" Buddy asked.

Ghost blinked, looking away thoughtfully.

"I'm not seeing people, I'm seeing patterns." He said. "And then I kill them. And then I look, and they're..." He looked down, pressing his lips together for a moment. "I can't stop looking at what I've done. It's like all I want to do is stop... And people keep making me... keep killing."

"...That's horrifying." Kiraba said softly. "I'm so sorry."

Ghost looked at him, or through him, it seemed.

"See Buddy." He said, resting his arms on his knees. "That's why I like him."

"What?" She scowled.

Ghost shrugged.

"He's so... innocent." 

Kiraba frowned.

"Is this what Oldman meant when he..." He lowered his voice uncomfortably. "When he called me a virgin?"

Ghost and Buddy looked at each other, not smiling anymore.

"He means you're--you seem... untraumatized." Buddy said, like she was trying to put it gently.

"Untraumatized? What does that have to do with... being a virgin?"

"It's just a Shiver joke." Buddy shrugged. "You don't look like you've done it, consensual or otherwise."

"Dude, I'm 15!"

Ghost shrugged.

"People like us, you're lucky if you make it to your teens, still a virgin."

Buddy grimaced and stood up suddenly.

"Buddy?" Ghost said.

She shook her head, huffed and left.

Tag list: @joyjoygorl @cepheusgalaxy @little-rat-dragon @turtlesnap1 @atomicsandwichprince

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Kindle book: Masterpost: Next:

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

I love that everyone is coming to talk to you about fanfics, haha! Don't mind if I join in - tell us about your favourite style fanfic tropes. 😎

Fr lmaoooo idk where all this is coming from but I’m here for it!!!!

OH BOY DO I HAVE A LOT OF STYLE TROPES!!!

Okay so WEARING EACH OTHERS CLOTHES!!! God I eat that one up every time it’s so cute like I just KNOW growing up they had half their clothes at each other’s houses and constantly lost track of who owned what shirt and THEN!!! As they got older and weren’t the same size anymore (personally I’m a big boy Stan truther but it’s precious the other way too) and Kyle started absolutely SWIMMING in Stan’s baggy ass sweatshirts and Stan gets cuteness aggression lmao he’s just like awwww look how cute my super best boyfriend is in the peace love pine trees hoodie asjdjdkgfj

Calling each other “dude” romantically!!! Like other pet names come into play but dude stays bc it’s them

WHEN THEY HAVE THEIR OWN SECRET UNSPOKEN LANGUAGE like they’re always on the same wavelength totally in sync with each other!!! They understand each other like no one else, can read each other like a book, fully on the same side and will follow each other to the ends of the earth!!!

Okay okay we all know I STAY reading and writing style whump and PROTECTIVENESS!!! When they worry about each other constantly and get so freaked out when one of them isn’t okay I eat that shit UP every time I love them defending each other, physically or verbally, like no one fucks with Stan without experiencing Kyle Rage and vice versa!!! When Stan is the one to completely flip his lid and panic because Kyle’s hurt or in danger just AAAAA

On that note: TAKING CARE OF EACH OTHER!!! There’s a reason most of my stories have a “yep I injured the boys again” tag because I LIVE for the sweet sweet tender moments after an Incident where they’re patching up each other’s wounds all worried and Soft, talking each other through the pain and telling them that it’s gonna be okay bonus points if we get a tearful “I could’ve lost you” “you didn’t, I’m right here” GOOD SHIT RIGHT THERE!!!

On THAT note (sorry I’m just fucking insane) STAN CARRYING KYLE!!!!!!!!! Once again I’m a short angy Kyle/ big boy Stan truther and I looovvvvveeee a little bridal style carrying moment holy shit (I’m surprised I didn’t put any of that in my style week stuff lmao) like I am fully guilty of putting my favorite redhead in Situations JUST so I can have that, like I gave OrangeJuiceVerse Kyle chronic knee pain, diabetes, an ed, and Stan carries him so much lmfao someone put me in Making Kyle Suffer Jail

Ok another one I love is Kyle as the Voice of Reason! Like when he’s the go to guy, savior complex mom friend who just wants to take care of everyone! And boy howdy does Stan not make it easy lmao between him and Kenny (the disaster duo) that man is Exasperated

THEM BEING EACH OTHERS RIGHT HAND MAN!!!!! Fighting side by side, Stan and Kyle against the world! When they can depend on each other more than anyone else and trust each other with their lives. Stan would follow Kyle into a burning building and Kyle would pull him out! That trope is why I’m so feral about stick of truth like they gotta be on the same side or they feel like somethings missing (codependent bastards)

Stan playing guitar for Kyle/ Kyle reading to Stan!!! The domesticity ugh I love it

Casual cuddling oh my godddddd like even before they got together they’re always touching each other in some way and Cartman’s like it’s fuckin gay to cuddle at sleepovers you guys are 15 and they’re like fym it’s not gay to cuddle the homies? (It so is) best friends to lovers on TOP!!!

Them generally being huge simps like PLEASE why y’all staring longingly also in the same vein them thinking the other is the most beautiful thing in the world those two are DOWN HORRENDOUS

I also reeeaaaaly like when they’re kissin… and it starts off all slow and sweet… and then it gets more passionate… and suddenly Stan’s hands are tangled in Kyle’s hair and Kyle’s pushing him against the wall and they’re practically falling into each other desperate to be closer and whispering “I love you” into each others mouths and nothing in the world exists other than the two of them and

Lmao that’s some of my favorite style tropes I’m super normal about them obviously

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

10 characters in 10 fandoms

Tagged by @alexagirlie (love you 😘)

In no particular order—

1. Timothée Chalamet. “But Maggie, that’s not a character, that’s just a dude!” Yes I know, shut the fuck up I love him

2. Katara. She’s a bamf.

3. Lee from Bones & All. Honestly if he ate me I wouldn’t even be mad about it, at least I’d get to look at him as I died and also his lips would touch my skin which is miracle regardless of the context

4. Eddie Munson from Stranger Things. He’s yummy, okay, don’t @ me

5. Laurie Laurence from Little Women, bc he’s a total drama queen and I love him for it, also AmyLaurie is what got me into RPF to begin with and none of my fics would exist without it, soooooo

6. Paul Atreides, my delicious disaster boy. How I love him.

7. Hal from The King, yes I know he’s based off a real person, but he’s a murderous drunken king and I’d like to have his heirs thanks, next king is Jewish cause I fuckin said so

8. Daenerys Targaryen, bc she’s the queen we should’ve had.

9. Stiles, my beloved

10. Simon Waite from Harrow Faire by Kathryn Ann Kingsley, here is a fanart I asked someone to do for me, you can view her linktree here

Tagging, uhhhhhh @softhecreator @cocoamoonmalfoy @boomhauer and if anyone else wants to you can consider this your tag and just say I did it lol

[pugs-cats-bb-8]

Persona 5-The Daybreakers

This has never been dubbed into English, it is subbed through. Just letting people know.

I love Morgana 🤣🤣

They have to go down to the train station to access Mementos? I thought they entered from above. So they just disappear into thin air?

So this takes place sometime after Yusuke.

Why does Ren look pissed and disinterested?

I love the shot of them getting in.

Ren drives like I do. 🤣🤣

I can drive the cat. No, I can't.

They make Akechi even prettier 🥰🥰Also his eyes look more red here.

This dude looks like Wonder.

I know that beer brand 🤣🤣

Pink chalk?

Yusuke's friend looks like a wet puppy.

Does the game ever ask "Why don't they go to the police"? Like I know it's established pretty early on that the police aren't going to do anything (the game's words, not mine) and that's basically why the Phantom Thieves exist.

Ren is pretty 😍😍 And basically stalking that dude. Way to take tips from your boyfriend🤣🤣

I've never seen Ren wear a cross-body bag. Minus that uh, fashion disaster (IMHO) of a collab with a tourism thingy.

Damn, he really pissed... and hot.

Ren looked normal for a frame. Is this an AU? Like Ren's harder than usual.

Why does he react like he forgot Morgana was there? 🤣🤣

My man is risking his ass using Leblanc. Like I remember reading about this on the Wikia but really. I like how they weren't concerned about using Leblanc. Like really, especially cause Ren could get kicked out, property could be damaged, Morgana could get hurt, Sojiro could get hurt if he walks in. Not to mention it's just plain rude to be that careless. Ren has balls.

Where'd the panic light come from? They don't have Futaba yet. Iwai!?

If it wasn't Makigami? then who was it?

It was his brother, Yusuke's wet puppy friend. 😲😲

He's the leader? I thought he was the lackey😲😲 I thought the older dude was the leader.

That transformation was uh...

Where'd the bloody Oni come from? I thought we were fighting Mitras.

Add in the onion bird.

Ren is badass 😍😍🥵🥵

If Arsene's gonna get more lines. I would love it if it got dubbed. That's part of the reason I kept him. 😋😋😋😋

I like how they do baton pass all athletic and dramatic.

Long legs 😍😍

What I wouldn't give to be his position. 😍😍

"The arrogance in your heart. I stole it". (I accidentally flipped it although I think it works better the other way). It reminds me of a line from dancing. "Did you enjoy the show? Well, until next time". 🥵😍

Although, it sounds like intil to me. Same thing happened with Ippon Datara. I thought it was Ippon Tatara. In my defense, I had to learn what his voice sounded like.

Wait, this dude is a Mementos Mission. He's a combo of 2MM. 6/18 you get The Phantom Thieves vs. Burglary Ring. The story matches up halfway and the dude's name is Makigami but it never mentions him having a brother. It's even the same shadow. Fake-Man Show in 3rd sem has a brother that he abused and he says the same thing as his shadow disappears.

Morgana's dopey face. Maybe because I have it paused? 🤣🤣

Pretty girl in the crowd.

Just hear a random cat and find a key and a note 🤣🤣. That's how we got some of our cats. Minus the key and note.

He's kinda cute. Why does he look like a mix of Akechi and Natsume? But add in wet puppy.

😍😍😍🥵 Fuckin' gorgeous shot. Reminds me of when Morgana's floating away at the end/near the end of 5.

They went straight into Kaneshiro, without Makoto? I wish the game did that. 🤣🤣 Maybe it was near Kanoshiro to begin with.

So, that was a test run? I don't know how to word it. It makes sense, given that Ren's not that confident when he starts. It does provide insight on what thiefy lengths Ren is capable of.

A-1 (Steak Sauce🤭) animated this? It looks amazing. What happened between episode 0 and 1? Come to think of it they did the opening for Radiant Historia too. Which also looks great and it's on the 3DS. I think they also did a couple of P3 movies too. So, why does the anime look like it does?