#maybe I'll think about them more who knows | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheshiresense · 16 hours ago

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I’m loving all the parts of your Ichigo & Starrk time travel AU! This is a bit random and would take place some time down the road but I had a thought that Starrk probably still has the scars from when Shunsui almost killed him rigjt? So I was wondering if some combination of TBTP!Shunsui recognizing the kind of blades that would’ve left those scars (his zanpakutou is pretty unique after all) and maybe Katen Kyokotsu sensing her own “mark” on Starrk would result in Shunsui guessing a few things if he sees those scars. Or maybe it’s at a point in the timeline where Starrk and Ichigo have already revealed the time travel thing to a few people but not many details and Shunsui ends up putting more pieces together on his own.

Ooh yesss I do love a good scar reveal. For a scene like this, I'd prob go with the second scenario. I imagine Starrk's a pretty private person and also not one to be stripping down in front of just anyone lmao so there has to be a good enough reason. (I actually have a different ready-made one that would fit a time travel reveal scene that I've already hinted at previously but I think I'll write that another time, so we're going to use this one instead.)

This would take place maybe a year or two down the road, and because Shinigami elites are generally not idiots (most of the time), especially the ones Starrk and Ichigo have grown close to, I imagine Shunsui, Ukitake, Shinji, and Kaien (and prob Lisa) have pooled their observations and guessed that Starrk and Ichigo are from the future and have Experienced Some Shit, possibly under Aizen, possibly under some other major big bad that was bad enough to necessitate time travel. And time travel's hardly something just anybody can throw around so most likely there's some divine intervention involved. And once they've come to these conclusions, they decide enough is enough, leaving the fate of Soul Society and possibly the universe on two people who look like they're running themselves ragged trying to save them all is ridiculous. If nothing else, they're friends and family, and it's not right to just leave that burden to them.

I'm also going to throw Kisuke into this group because 1) Kisuke's observant as fuck and Ichigo's actually really bad at staying away from this one mad scientist who created him and weaponized him and pointed him at the enemy but also followed right after him because to Kisuke, Ichigo is everything from moral compass to magnum opus to greatest sin to the person he owes everything to, and he'd more or less handed over his entire soul into Ichigo's possession very early on. So even a hundred years in the past was never going to prevent Kisuke from gravitating to Ichigo who doesn't flinch from him or his reputation and looks at him like he's more than just a Rukon street rat turned assassin turned Shinigami in a captain trenchcoat who has no idea how to be a captain on a good day. (And everybody knows that once Ichigo is attached to you, it's all over, you're never going to be rid of him again, and more than anything, Kisuke has always just wanted someone to want him to stay.)

And 2), there's no better place for secret meetings than the Study Chamber under the Soukyoku Hill, Aizen doesn't know about it, and the Quincy might but with the place buried under enough seals to avoid all detection and probably withstand a siege, even they can't get in to spy. I want to say Kisuke and Yoruichi are a package deal so she should be around, but I also headcanon that they sort of drifted apart for a while after Yoruichi forced Kisuke out of the Second and onto the captaincy doorstep (which made the fact that she threw her whole life and career away when Kisuke was accused of treason that much more meaningful tbh). So for now she's not around, but she does still hang out with Kuukaku, and while it is very helpful that all these people are regular guests at the Shiba compound so nobody is going to get suspicious if this particular group is absent together from time to time because people would just assume they're holed up at the Shibas' for another party or something, Yoruichi is going to notice sooner or later that they're very much not at the compound when they're missing, so she goes looking for whatever fuckery Kisuke has gotten up to this time, and that'll be her way into this time travel adventure, so to speak.

But all of this is actually just to say, healing hot springs for the win, you gotta be naked in a Japanese onsen lmao and guess who's about to have a midnight rendezvous 😉 let's all thank Urahara Kisuke for reinventing such a convenient trope.

-0-

It's nearing two in the morning, and after the staggering revelations earlier, everyone is asleep.

It wasn't as if they hadn't already expected the time travel, but to have it confirmed, and to know now that the reason for it had been the near-total annihilation of all three realms at the hands of a race nursing a thousand-year-old grudge, one thought to be largely extinct but has actually been hiding in their walls - almost literally - and biding their time until their king's awakening--well, let's just Shunsui isn't going to be able to walk down a street without wondering how many hidden eyes are watching him from the shadows until the Wandenreich has at least been dug out of the woodwork for all to see.

(It's also perhaps a little more… off-putting for him than the others, though perhaps that's his pride speaking. Shadows are supposed to be his domain, and yet he's never sensed anything amiss in all the long years he's lived in the Seireitei.)

There had at least not been too much of a fuss about bringing them into the loop. Shunsui had admittedly thought they would have to at least argue back and forth about it a few more times, if only because no matter how much Ichigo likes to deny it, the family resemblance is uncanny, whether in appearance or personality, and a Shiba is nothing if not stubborn once they've set their mind on something. Ichigo is exactly the type to refuse outside aid in the name of better protecting the people he cares about, has yet to understand that ignorance does not always mean safe, or outgrow that inexplicably instinctual mindset of his where he seems to believe that he must take on all burdens by himself instead of allowing others to help shoulder those burdens with him.

But then they'd confronted the boy, and while Ichigo had scowled up a storm and tried to bluster his way out of it at first - kid really is a terrible liar - he'd also capitulated far sooner than any of them had expected. In the end, he'd crossed his arms and scowled some more before deciding with the finality of someone who wouldn't budge any further, "Fine, but we wait for Starrk-san."

He'd smirked at them then, still displeased considering the topic of conversation, but vaguely triumphant nonetheless as he'd eyed Urahara and Hirako and Kaien in particular. "It's why you cornered me when you know Starrk-san's out on a mission and isn't due back 'til late, right? Cuz you think you might be able to wear me down by nagging me to death, or worse comes to worst, you can figure it out by watching my reactions. But you won't get anything out of Starrk-san if he doesn't want to say, and he's hard to read even when he's actively emoting."

He'd snorted then, mockery softened by a reluctant sort of mirth. "Joke's on you, he's the reasonable one."

Which, to be fair, had been Shunsui's opinion. Starrk really is frustratingly, delightfully difficult to read, and this is coming from Shunsui, who's always found most people easy enough to figure out at a glance. Case in point, most of the things they'd pieced together for themselves had been clues Ichigo had inadvertently given away, not Starrk. And even then, if Starrk doesn't want them to know, no matter how many well-reasoned conjectures they lay at his feet, he probably wouldn't say a word.

But by that same token, it must mean that the hints he'd started dropping over the past few months could only be his way of encouraging them to ask without directly giving the game away, without giving them any hard evidence or firsthand testimony that would condemn himself or Ichigo, just in case the people they've chosen to trust fail their expectations and choose to hand them over to the government instead of trusting them in return.

To Shunsui, that had basically been an open invitation to sit down for a chat, and Ukitake had agreed with him, but they'd been outvoted - sometimes, he thinks with some amusement that the younger members of their little group don't seem to have eyes for anyone except Ichigo - so he'd let it go since he'd thought there wouldn't be any major issues with trying it this way first either. After all, he doubts Starrk would've shown his hand without Ichigo's agreement. It's just that they'd probably have to jump through a few more hoops if they went to Ichigo, what with the kid's knee-jerk reflex for keeping them at a distance no matter the cost to himself. And he'd been correct, more or less. It's just that they'd had fewer hoops to jump through than Shunsui had anticipated, but he's hardly about to complain.

"My plan was to force Aizen to out himself somehow and then take him down in front of everyone," Ichigo had continued, oblivious to the dawning look of horror on his cousin's face at the sheer lack of regard Ichigo clearly had for his own wellbeing, or possibly for the excessive margin of error implied in every sentence. "And then, you know, hopefully do the same for the Quincy, although I guess they'd be harder to draw out, so maybe we would've had to go to them? But anyway, Starrk-san's the one who's been saying practically from the beginning that we need more people."

He'd made a face then, reminiscent of children everywhere who'd been lectured by a parent for doing something potentially reckless and stupid, but there'd been a grumpy sort of acceptance there too that had lent maturity to his features.

"'Wars can't be won alone,'" Ichigo had audibly quoted with a rueful sort of twist to his mouth, as much to himself as to them. "'And this is their home. If they want to fight for it, let them fight. They're strong enough to make a difference. Besides, there's nothing worse than only being able to stand by helplessly while something you love disappears in front of you.'" He'd huffed and scrubbed a hand over his face, and then he'd just looked tired. "Well, he's not wrong."

He'd looked at them all again, gaze firm. "So if you really wanna do this, fine, but we wait for Starrk-san."

They'd waited. It wasn't as if anyone had actually wanted to exclude the man anyway, couldn't even if they did since he and Ichigo were clearly a package deal. And Shunsui's of the opinion that anybody who can consistently convince Ichigo to stop and look around and realize he isn't as alone as he often seems to believe is someone Shunsui definitely wants onside.

Ichigo had told them that Starrk had been expecting a confrontation sooner or later, and there were only so many places for it to happen if they didn't want anyone else finding out, so if Starrk got back and found their shared apartment empty, he would know to check here.

Sure enough, an hour after, a reiatsu signature - usually so carefully tucked away but one that Shunsui had pressed into his own memory from the very first time he'd had the chance to really feel it - had flared politely right outside the door before wisping away to nothing again, and a moment after Urahara had flashed away to let him in, Starrk had ghosted in, still in his Shihakushou with the wooden case containing his Zanpakutou slung over one shoulder and an exhausted air about him, but the silver-blue gaze he'd swept over them had momentarily felt like the fangs of a beast locked around their throats.

He'd looked to Ichigo, who'd grimaced but nodded, some wordless conversation passing between them, and only then had all those predatory edges been folded away again, leaving only the quiet unassuming man people still barely looked twice at despite the fact that he'd graduated with honours just as impressive as Ichigo's had been, and had even been promoted to lieutenant on Unohana's personal recommendation straight out of the Academy. But most Shinigami saw Fourth Division and looked no further, blind to the power concealed behind Starrk's reserved apathy.

(In contrast, restlessness had stirred beneath Shunsui's skin at the sight. He'd wanted to feel that reiatsu again, to taste the corrosive bite of it against the endless abyss of his own, to revel in the reminder that neither of them could overwhelm the other. He'd wanted to see more of the wolf lurking behind Starrk's eyes too, wanted this man to know he had no need to hide any part of it, not from Shunsui, not when he had the same kind of monster residing in his own soul. But that was all still too much, too soon, and so he'd locked it all behind his teeth once more, waiting for the day he wouldn't have to anymore.)

Starrk had sighed and run a gloved hand over his mouth before wandering over to join them. "Alright, let's talk. What do you want to know?"

That had been five hours ago. The conversation had lasted until midnight before they'd all decided to retire for the night and continue in the morning.

(Ichigo had looked positively agonized at the prospect. Starrk hadn't looked much of anything, mainly because he'd been half-asleep - or doing an excellent job at pretending to be - for a good hour and a half by that point.)

They'd opted to stay in the Study Chamber. Urahara had had more than enough futons to go around, thick enough that they wouldn't feel the ground underneath, and there were bathroom facilities and even a kitchenette included in a sectioned off corner. He and Yoruichi had certainly outdone themselves.

Urahara in particular. He'd invited them to use his hot spring too if they wished - a derivative of Kirinji Tenjirou's very own hot springs, less effective and fast-acting than the originals, only able to speed up recovery, but also far less dangerous - perfect for soaking in after a tough spar or a hard day or anything that results in moderately serious injuries. A veritable work of art.

Still, Shunsui had been more preoccupied with the way Starrk's eyes had lingered on the hot spring even as they'd all headed off to eat something and wash up before going to bed. In that split-second moment, the normally inscrutable man had looked adorably like a cat with a patch of sunlight. It shouldn't have been so attractive, but Shunsui had found himself unspeakably charmed all the same.

Ten minutes after everyone else's reiryoku had levelled out with deep slumber, and Shunsui had likewise tamped down on his own and smoothed it out to mimic sleep, he'd heard the faint rustle of Starrk's futon being pulled back, and then the whisper of footsteps padding their way towards the hot spring.

A better man than Shunsui would probably not have followed. But if that had ever been an option, he'd thrown it out the window from the first time he'd almost drowned in the shattered devastation of Starrk's soul and still decided to go after him.

He'd known since they'd met that there was some kind of connection between himself and Starrk.

He'd known for nearly as long that something about himself made Starrk uncomfortable, at best, and hurt him on a soul-deep level at worst.

He'd known with every interaction they'd had after that - every moment Shunsui could spare to track him down without making it seem too obvious that he was doing it on purpose - that Starrk wanted him to stay away just as much as he wanted him to stay, and Shunsui had taken shameless advantage because he himself had also been unable to do anything less, because he'd looked at this man and the desolate void inside him and couldn't bear to leave him alone.

(Because every moment with Starrk had filled something in Shunsui's own heart that he hadn't even known had been missing until Starrk had slotted into his life so neatly, so easily, that it had felt like he was always meant to be there.)

And he'd known for months, ever since time travel had become the most likely explanation for Starrk and Ichigo's origins, that there was no way Starrk hadn't known him in another life, and known him well, because that was the only thing that explained it all with perfect, horrifying sense.

A better man than Shunsui would not have followed, would've given him space. But a better man wouldn't have reduced someone's heart to a grief-stricken ruin either, cut so deep that it had carved that anguish straight into their very soul, so Shunsui figures that since a future version of himself has already sunk about as low as he possibly can, he might as well keep going and see if there's anything at all that he can do to fix what another him - still him, in the end, with a mere hundred years and change between them - has so clearly, carelessly, cruelly broken.

One of the things that had been revealed earlier had been Ichigo's background, because they'd all noticed the flashes of Quincy and Hollow in his reiatsu. Kaien had broken three sake cups and almost Urahara's face, and even by the end, he'd still looked murderous enough that Shunsui had almost pitied Shiba Isshin's foreseeable future. But Ichigo's ancestry had led to Starrk's, whose reiatsu may be as inherently dangerous as Shunsui's but has never read as anything less than perfectly Shinigami. They'd all been curious for a while, because Starrk was the kind of old and powerful that very few people could get to, and none that could and still remain unknown for so long, but there'd also been no Coyote Starrk in the Gotei 13 until this version who'd time-travelled had arrived in the Seireitei.

Starrk hadn't beaten around the bush. He'd pulled open the front of his Shihakushou and bared the web of scars below his collarbones, slightly branched out but thick and concentrated over his sternum in a distinctly circular mass.

"I'm not a Shinigami," He'd said calmly, plainly.

"You kind of are," Ichigo had mused, even as he'd glowered death eyes at them all when Starrk wasn't looking.

Starrk had shaken his head. "There's no name for what I am. I just evolved enough to fix my own soul."

He'd placed a hand over the scarring, and his gaze became distant enough that Shunsui's hands had twitched with the urge to reach out, even while the others had gaped, visibly shocked because it's one thing to have a soul like Ichigo's, one ultimately man-made, cobbled together from hope and desperation and a scientist's gamble; it's another entirely to realize that Shinigami have perhaps been looking at Hollows the wrong way for as long as any of them have existed.

(Because all Hollows are ultimately the product of the Shinigami's failure to save them in time, though most don't view it that way anymore, if they ever have. Because the possibility of a Hollow saving themselves has never even been a thought exercise in anyone's mind.)

Shunsui hadn't cared. No, that wasn't entirely correct. He'd been just as stunned as the others at this revelation that overturned millennia's worth of ironclad beliefs. But he'd been far, far more perturbed by what he could see of a second scar on Starrk's chest that bisected the circular one, faded just enough to indicate that it wasn't a very recent injury, but still deep and ragged and vivid enough to show how lethal it had been, how fatal, and-

And Shunsui had seen enough- dealt enough damage with his Zanpakutou to know the kind of wounds his blades left in their wake. And as if that wasn't enough, Katen had murmured in his mind, terrible and possessive and ruthlessly final, "Yes, his is a life we claimed for ourselves."

Shunsui had been almost relieved when Starrk had blinked back into the present and pulled his Shihakushou back on properly before continuing in a sedate tone, "We concluded that this is the final step for a Hollow, that they're allowed a chance to become whole again. It's just that even the strongest Hollows usually only survive for a few hundred years before something kills them, or they just don't have the power levels to climb that high, especially in the time they have."

He'd smiled then, but there'd been no humour in his expression, only infinite emptiness. "I survived, and I'm strong. So I guess this was my prize."

Nobody had really known what to say about all that, though Urahara had done an admirable job of recovering, and then an even more admirable job of pretending he didn't immediately want to whip out one piece of equipment or another and start scanning Starrk for data. They'd moved the conversation back to more information on the Quincy instead, although there would definitely be more questions in the future. But it'd been a lot to take in, and everybody had needed time to digest.

Now, hours later, Shunsui waits a bit before getting up as well and quietly making his way to the hot spring. He isn't surprised when he finds Starrk already rising from the water and reaching for a towel, evidently prepared to leave.

"Don't go," Shunsui says before he can think better of it, and he doesn't mean it as a demand or order, but he doesn't take it back either when Starrk goes still, water sluicing off of him - all tanned wet skin and strong shoulders and lean muscle for miles and now is really not the time - half turned away, and it's only because of that that even with the steam, Shunsui notices the conspicuous scar left by a stab wound in Starrk's back, just left of the spine.

This time, he doesn't need Katen to say anything at all.

Perhaps he'd dropped his conscience in a ditch on his way here, because he repeats, can't stop himself from repeating, "Don't go. I don't mean to chase you away. It's more than big enough for the both of us, isn't it?"

He pauses, reaches for a hat he'd left behind on his futon, and settles for shrugging out of his clothes instead. "…I'll stay on this side."

He slides into the water and forces himself to wait. When Starrk slowly sinks back into the hot spring, Shunsui very carefully doesn't react to that either.

The silence that settles over them is less tense than one might expect. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Starrk slumps against the edge of the hot spring, eyelids drooping. He has his hair tied back in a bun to keep it out of the water, and it's rare enough that Shunsui can't help taking a few extra looks.

Then again, that's nothing new. Starrk has always drawn his eye. Ukitake likes laughing at him for it.

"Does it bother you?" Starrk speaks up abruptly, unexpected enough that Shunsui almost startles. "That I'm a Hollow."

Shunsui wants to say that this man is so far from everything he'd ever thought even the most advanced Hollows could be that a part of him simply can't reconcile the disconnect. The rest of him…

"You're the same person now as you were before you told us what you are," He points out. "I don't think anything else matters."

Blue-grey eyes slit open, not quite looking in Shunsui's direction, not quite not, expression utterly indecipherable.

"…Did my future self think differently?" Shunsui ventures, but that can't be right. He can't imagine any version of himself who would think that way, especially one who'd lived even longer than he has. Still, his mind flashes back to the scars on Starrk's body, hidden beneath the water now but seared into Shunsui's memory like a brand, and he can't help coming up with increasingly depressing scenarios.

But Starrk blinks, and his focus finally hones in on Shunsui, genuinely surprised, and Shunsui releases a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"No," Starrk says after a beat of studying him with that too-perceptive gaze. "You've apparently always been more open-minded than most." He cocks his head. "But you were staring, so I thought…"

I always stare at you, haven't you noticed? Shunsui wants to blurt out, but he swallows it down with only a little effort. Too much, too soon.

After tonight's revelations, after all the speculations he's pieced together bit by bit over the past few months about their past-future relationship, maybe it will always be too soon. But Shunsui's never been in the habit of admitting defeat without even trying, and this time is no different.

"Something is bothering you though," Starrk tacks on, still watching Shunsui through narrowed eyes, and Shunsui wonders if the man realizes how much he looks like he's stalking prey in moments like this.

It should be unsettling, being on the receiving end of such a gaze, and it is, a little, but Shunsui's grown used to it too, grown to appreciate it even, to the feeling of being seen, of being known, and still being wanted.

(Because that's the one thing that's never been in question. Because however much Starrk sometimes reacts like Shunsui's very existence pains him, or how much he sometimes makes Shunsui feel completely bare, every sin and secret laid out for judgement, he's also never looked at Shunsui with anything less than the sort of quiet devotion the tide holds for the moon, or the stars for the sky, or dawn for the horizon, steadfast and eternal. Is it any wonder Shunsui can't stay away?)

"Is it this then?" Starrk asks next, and the water sloshes a little as he straightens up, revealing his scarred chest to tap a finger against the near-horizontal scar cleaved across it, right through where his Hollow hole had presumably still been at the time of the injury. Seeing it in its full gruesome glory now, Shunsui can tell that this wound had to have nearly cut the other man in two.

He feels a little at a loss for words, then sighs and fesses up. "Maa, I suppose I'm just a bit curious." He tries to keep his tone light, but there's really no two ways to say it. "…I did that, didn't I?"

Starrk levels an arch look at him. "Well, you didn't." He slouches back into the water, and somehow, he actually looks a bit amused. "I'm long over it, Taichou-san. We'd just met, and we were enemies at the time. You did what you had to do. We both did. It was war. If it makes you feel better, I gave as good as I got."

Shunsui snorts. That does actually make him feel a bit better. At the very least, this is preferable to the progressively dramatic betrayal scenes he'd been thinking of. He doesn't like the idea of his future self almost killing Starrk, but at least it hadn't happened after they'd become friends.

It does mean he has to reshuffle a few things on his mental timeline though, and across the hot spring, Starrk glances at him again and seems to understand.

"I guess we didn't get around to talking much about Aizen," He muses, then reveals, "We mentioned that before the Quincy became a problem, it was Aizen you all fought. Aizen set up his base of operations in Hueco Mundo, sought out Hollows from all over, and created an army of artificial Arrancar out of them to serve him, using that Hougyoku Ichigo was talking about earlier. I was part of that army."

Shunsui blinks at that revelation, and it's on the tip of his tongue to ask what Aizen - in his quest for world domination - could've possibly offered a man who didn't even like fighting to secure his allegiance. Then again, Shunsui's willing to bet at least a little hypnosis had been involved to ease the way. Aizen doesn't seem the type to bank on genuine fealty without including insurance.

The question stalls in his throat though as Starrk lifts a hand out of the water--his left, the one with the vivid burn scar stretched over the back of it. That isn't something often seen either. Starrk almost always has gloves on. He stares at it for a moment before letting it fall back beneath the water.

"The ten most powerful Arrancar in his army were called the Espada," Starrk explains. "I was the Primera. The first."

"The strongest," Shunsui nods. That sounds right, especially if Starrk had been sent to fight Shunsui.

Starrk shrugs noncommittally and says nothing else, leaving Shunsui to mull over the new information for a minute.

"Ichigo-kun warned us earlier," Shunsui eventually says. "About being Hollowfied by Aizen's Hougyoku. That turning into Visored stunted any chance of growth, and that you weren't even halfway through the Blood War before Lisa-chan and the others' power levels had degraded to barely that of a seated officer's."

Hirako had been grim-faced at the news. Lisa had looked ready to march out and rip Aizen's head off right then and there. Honestly, Shunsui had shared the sentiment.

"Then wouldn't it have been the same for Aizen's Arrancar?" Shunsui continues, watching a puzzled frown furrow at Starrk's brow. "They were granted power by the Hougyoku. Shouldn't it have stunted them too?"

Starrk nods, still frowning. "Yeah, it did. Grimmjow was furious when he found out." He blinks, and then realization strikes. "Oh, you mean me."

Shunsui hums a confirmation. Why in the world would he mean anyone else?

Starrk shakes his head. "I was the exception. Aizen found me last, out of most of the Arrancar. Definitely last out of the Espada. But even then, I was already more powerful than all the others, so he gave me the Primera seat." A corner of his mouth quirks with a cynical sort of mirth. "I didn't want more power, and he certainly wasn't about to give me more. I suppose it was fortunate. I don't think even Aizen knew back then that the Hougyoku would cause stagnation."

Powerful enough to have risen to Arrancar on his own, Shunsui muses, and he has to marvel at that, has to admire it. That kind of strength - mental even more than physical in some ways - isn't something just anyone can possess. Evidently. The only natural Arrancar in the known worlds. The only one to repair his own soul. What an extraordinary accomplishment. Except-

"I'm sorry it took so long," Shunsui says softly, because he knows Starrk is around the same age as himself, and if he was still an Arrancar by Aizen's war, then he could only have spent all the centuries before in Hueco Mundo. Even if he'd had companions there, Starrk would've outlived them all. "It must've been lonely."

I'm sorry nobody could help, because no Shinigami would've known to help. Perhaps most wouldn't have been willing to even if they'd known. I'm sorry I couldn't help.

For a long moment, Starrk is still enough to resemble a statue. Then a scoff of something that could've been laughter if it didn't ache so much claws its way out of his throat. He doesn't lift his gaze from where it's fallen blankly on the shifting surface of the hot spring. "No need to be sorry. I'm used to it."

Used to it. Used to being alone. Used to being left behind.

Shunsui doesn't think he's only talking about those long years in Hueco Mundo anymore, not when he's avoiding eye-contact again, not when Shunsui can suddenly feel the bleak despair radiating from his soul again.

"There's nothing worse than only being able to stand by helplessly while something you love disappears in front of you."

Not for the first time, Shunsui feels an acute desire to have a nice long talk with his future self and ask exactly how much of the agony rippling through Starrk's reiatsu can be placed directly at his feet.

(It isn't as if Shunsui can't understand. Even disregarding all other circumstances, the fact that they'd been at war would've meant that there could be no guarantees.

But still.

Still.

Couldn't he have tried a little harder? Didn't he know better than anyone the pain of being the only one left behind, the way it lingers like a slow unending bleed you're forced to carry until the day death finally deigns to take you too?

Shunsui at least has Ukitake, has Yama-jii, has Retsu-senpai and Sasakibe-san too, has Lisa-chan and Hirako and Kaien-kun, even has Nanao-chan to watch over in his brother and sister-in-law's stead. And in the future, maybe he'd lost them all, but it also sounds like he'd still had one to staunch the bleed, still had Starrk, right to the very end.

Then, who did Starrk have after Shunsui had died?

Isn't the answer obvious? Isn't Starrk still bleeding right now?)

A heavy sigh jolts Shunsui out of his thoughts, and his hands sting from where his nails have dug into his palms, fortunately out of sight. On the other side, Starrk clambers to his feet, water sloughing off his frame as he turns to get out of the hot spring.

The steam obscures his face this time, but even if he could see it, Shunsui thinks it would be one of those times again where he wouldn't be able to read him at all.

"Don't think so hard, Taichou-san," Starrk says, voice as calm as a blanket of snow over a cemetery. "It's not your job to save me."

I can't be saved anymore. I don’t want to be saved.

Shunsui's out of the water and next to Starrk before either of them can blink.

Too much, too soon, a part of him warns, but this time, he throws caution to the wind, reaches out, and closes a hand around Starrk’s wrist.

Starrk freezes, the pulse under Shunsui’s fingers jumps, and for a moment, time seems to stop.

They must look ridiculous, dripping wet and naked, and yet Shunsui barely notices, and Starrk has probably noticed everything but.

"It's not my job, that's true," Shunsui says without letting go, staring at what he could see of the other's face. "And I don't know if what I'm doing is meant to save you. But if you think I'll just let you go to your grave after all this is over, Ichigo-kun is apparently not the one we should've been worrying most about after all."

They had made a mistake, Shunsui realizes. He had made a mistake. Because looking at Starrk and Ichigo--at Starrk who was so steady and composed all the time, and then at Ichigo who was so much more transparent in his misery, in his fury, in his determination to achieve his end goals no matter the cost to himself, that it was almost instinct for everyone to focus their concerns on him. Because for all that Ichigo was reluctant to involve them, and reticent on the best of the days, he was at least also loud about it, and therefore was that much easier to help--to know they need to help.

Compared to him, Starrk has always shown himself to be the rock in a storm that even Ichigo clearly clings to. He has never been anything less than an ocean of serenity, but perhaps they should've remembered that no ocean is calm beneath the surface.

…No, it's Shunsui who should've remembered. He has literal unparalleled insight into Starrk's soul, feels the ache of it regularly, even if not all the time, except he'd just… not forgotten, that's impossible, but he'd been trying to fix it in his own way, with tea and conversation and countless attempts at coaxing out even just one more smile, except he can never tell when he might be going too far, pushing too fast, wanting too much, always feeling a bit like he's standing helpless in front of a skittish cornered animal too hurt to accept any kind of affection, and so perhaps as a result, Shunsui's ended up failing to show Starrk just how far he's willing to go instead.

Case in point, he's still holding onto Starrk, touching him, skin warm against Shunsui's own. Shunsui would've thought he'd be shaken off by now, possibly tossed into a wall out of reflex if nothing else, but Starrk hasn't even attempted to pull away. His pulse is calming again, but Shunsui can feel the tension in his arm, and he's staring down at their limbs with a lost expression.

Shunsui tightens his grip and runs his thumb along the inside of the other's wrist. He feels more than sees the shiver that runs through Starrk's body, for all that Starrk still hasn't moved. But the lost expression on his face also retreats. It leaves exhaustion-bruised eyes and enough sorrow thrumming through his reiatsu to smother the breath from Shunsui's lungs in its wake, but at the very least, he also finally looks up to meet Shunsui's gaze.

"…I don't know what you want from me, Shunsui," Starrk says wearily.

It's the first time he's ever used Shunsui's name. Shunsui only wishes he wouldn't sound so unbearably sad when saying it, but he'd take what he could get.

"That's easy," Shunsui replies, catching that pale mercurial gaze and holding it. "I want the same thing you've asked of Ichigo-kun. I want you to live."

A long silence follows before a rough sound spills from Starrk's throat like shattered glass.

"'Easy'," Starrk echoes, shoulders shaking, with laughter, with tears. But his eyes are dry, and he's the farthest thing from amused, and his soul feels like it might swallow itself whole just to cease its own existence. So this time, Shunsui lets instinct guide his hands and doesn't let himself second-guess it--in one swift motion, he tugs the other man into his arms and wraps him in a hug like he's wanted to ever since Starrk's soul had grasped for his own like he was drowning and Shunsui was the only one who could pull him to shore. Who could convince him to come ashore.

Starrk collapses against him, shuddering like he might fall apart with even just one more word, one more breath, one more touch, but Shunsui only draws him closer, holds him harder, and refuses to let him go.

#bleach #kurosaki ichigo #coyote starrk #kyouraku shunsui #shunstarrk #ichigo & starrk time travel verse #myscrap #welp this got wildly out of hand #damn it's so fucking long #i hope you like it i guess?#also i just realized it's less your second scenario and more a combination lmao

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octuscle · 1 day ago

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Can you do a sequel/follow up to Fun at the Not so Fair Ground where a paid of rude and obnoxious preppy university guys get on the bad side of the travelling fun fair workers, particularly Daz, and they get the same treatment Darren did? That was such a hot story

This is a sequel to this story:

Robert and Melvyn had been given $200 each by their parents to have fun at the fair. Of course, they both knew that this was the price the two friendly couples were willing to pay for a relaxing evening without their annoying and spoiled brats. And they also knew that $400 was painfully enough to pay for an entire evening of fun. Even at a carnival, which would certainly not be too expensive as entertainment for the lower classes. But the two of them were more than flush with cash themselves. Robert had a well-stocked trust fund from his grandparents, which yielded a more than generous return. And Melwyn had inherited a block of flats from an uncle, the rental income from which could easily finance his life of luxury. The 400 dollars hardly mattered.

So now the two of them were at the fair. Kids' stuff… They had already celebrated their 12th birthday at Disney World. What else could impress them?

As feared, the whole fair was a pretty boring affair. They even had no fun attacking small children in the bumper cars. Nevertheless, they behaved as if they owned everything here. They let every member of staff know what they thought of the underprivileged people here: NOTHING! And they didn't let people they didn't think much of say anything to them either. They didn't care about rules. And if someone reprimanded them for it, they didn't care either. They were both Upper Eastside. And the others there were Staten Island.

“Hey guys!” they heard a voice from behind them. “A number of colleagues and guests have complained about you. Behave yourselves, or I'll have to expel you from the fair!” Robert and Melvyn turned around. Who dared to speak to them like that? The guy who had dared to do that was obviously Staten Island or worse. A lowlife who spent too much time in the gym or working hard. Maybe only five or six years older than them. But from a different world. He smelled like an ordinary cologne, was dressed the way you might expect someone who worked the carnival to be dressed. His heavy chain screamed “fake”. But his eyes! Piercing blue. Almost hynotizing!

“Listen, you asshole, we're guests and we're not going to let someone like you tell us anything anyway!” said Melvyn. Robert laughed, held out 50 dollars to the guy and said, “That's enough for you to stop bothering us?" The guy smiled. Well, his mouth was smiling. His piercing blue eyes didn't. Robert and Melvyn had messed with the wrong guy. Kyle was Daz's right-hand man. Kyle knew his way around the fair almost as well as Daz, who was the undisputed ruler here. And Daz had given Kyle a free hand in how to deal with the two troublemakers. They had a special way of solving such problems here.

“Guys, maybe we just got off to a bad start. Let's forget what happened.” Kyle continued to smile his ice-cold smile. “I'm the boss of the ghost train here. There's a special ride for special guests only. It would be a pleasure to invite you. He held out two plastic chips with “VIP” written on them. Ghost train...! What a pathetic amusement. But it was cool to see how quickly this bastard caved in to them. He was scum. And Robert and Melvyn were the bosses! So they graciously took the chips and followed Kyle to the ghost train.

It was a terribly boring ride. Only small children would be scared of something like that. Robert and Melvyn were glad when the ride was over and the barrier of their little gondola opened again. They headed for the exit. Suddenly a door slammed shut in front of them. And a hidden wallpaper door creaked open. This had to be the part with the special tour. But here too: Boring effects. Some of them were obviously broken. And the dust and cobwebs seemed to be real. Robert and Melvyn stood in front of a picture with the caption “Your greatest horror”. Well, yes. Greatest horror. It showed two young men with cheap clothes, a cheap haircut and obviously no future. Robert and Melvyn weren't afraid of people like that. They ignored people like that. Next to the picture was a mirror. It was labeled “Your future”. Robert and Melvyn saw two young men with cheap clothes, a cheap haircut and obviously no future. Damn! Robert grabbed his face and his reflection did the same.

Robert and Melvyn looked at each other and turned pale. They looked like scum working at the fair. Cheap faux-leather clothes, chavish haircuts. But fit, athletic bodies. “Dude, what do you look like?” Robert wanted to ask. But instead he said “Yo, what do you look like, huh?”. And he spoke in a heavy New Jersey accent. “Yo, we gotta bounce, like, right now! We gotta skedaddle outta here!” Melvyn replied. And his accent was just as heavy!

In a panic, they both looked for the exit. They found themselves behind the ghost train. Above the exit was a sign that read “Employees only”. Darren tried to open the door. Melvyn rattled the handle. A man opened it for him. Behind the door was a small staff lounge. The man asked him if they wanted to apply for the job of young man traveling with the fair. The two ran off in a panic.

“Yo, buddy, you got any smokes or what?” asked Robert Melvyn. Neither of them had ever smoked in their lives. But their nicotine-yellow fingers now spoke a different language. Melvyn looked in the breast pocket of his leatherette vest. There were exactly two cigarettes left in the crumpled pack of filterless Marlboros. Robert took his Zippo out of his trouser pocket. Damn, that felt good!

“Oi, you muppets! How long are you gonna lounge about? Mel, get your butt to the dodgy car ticket stand! And Rob, shift that rubbish from the beer tent, yeah?!” Shit, if Kyle was in a bad mood, he'd just fuck them both hard again. Sure, it wouldn't be that bad. But there was no money in getting fucked. Mel and Rob finished their fags and trudged off to their chores. While Rob dragged the garbage bags to the bins, he wondered for a moment why he was doing this. Wasn't he actually here to have fun? He heard Mel's hoarse voice shouting through the loudspeaker “Oi, lads and lasses, next shindig's 'round the corner! Come and have a right laugh like ya ain't never had before. Let's hit it, yeah? WILD TIMES AHEAD!” It was clear that Mel had got the better job again. He had probably blown Daz or Kyle earlier. Shit, he could do with another fag already.

Rob and Mel were not the smartest employees at the fair. But they could get stuck in and work hard. They had lived in a caravan with Rob's stepbrother Kyle since they were kids. The fact that they were only stepbrothers had the advantage that they could fuck without any problems. And Mel, as a distant cousin or something, who had lost his parents at an early age and moved in with his godfather Daz, was free as a bird anyway. Shit, he'd already had every showman's cock in his face at the funfair. But preferably Daz's. And that gave him a certain special position.

Unlike Kyle and Daz, Rob and Mel weren't lead wolves even after years. But at least visually they could pass for alphas. They loved life at the fair. They wouldn't trade places with the snobs running around at the annual Newport Beach funfair for the world. Mel imagined Rob with silky hair and a polo shirt when he saw a youngster like that running past him. The youngster looked disdainful. Mel snorted. No, his best buddy was more of the bald-and-naked-upper-body type. Thank God!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #scum tf #workie tf #smart to dumb #white to blue collar tf

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itwasthereaminuteago · 13 hours ago

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|| The Pantyeater Proxy ||

Frank castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: fluff, smut, Max!

💜 Reblogs and comments mean the world, thank you for reading! 💜

"What you got Max, buddy? What is that?"

By the time Frank wrestles the thing from his slobbering jaws, it's too late.

"Aw shit." He's holding up the black shreds that once were one of your favourite sets of lingerie.

"Goddamn it. You tryin' to get us thrown out?"

Max grumbles, looking up guiltily from his place the floor.

"Ain't no use sayin' sorry now, think we gotta go shoppin' boy."

He only had a few hours until you came back from work. Frank manages to decipher the brand from the small and partly-chewed label, maybe he can pick up a like-for-like replacement and you'll be none the wiser. More importantly, him and Max will avoid being in your bad books.

Frank is, admittedly, a little out of his element. You usually bought this kinda thing yourself, and Christ knows where you'd originally gotten it from. Things had started out okay, he'd gone to the nearest shop on Google, one with really good reviews, but now he was standing amongst mannequins and reams of hanging silk and lace bras, panties, teddies, slips, and anything else he could've imagined, completely lost. He couldn't even see the brand of the thing Max ate.

"Can I help, sir?"

Frank turns around to see a young woman about half his size, her face bearing what he recognises as a well used sympathetic expression for use on lost boyfriends and husbands.

He clears his throat. "Uh, yes ma'am. Any chance you carry this brand?"

She examines the torn label and then slowly starts to shake her head. "I'm sorry sir, we don't. I think it's actually discontinued. Were you looking for something specific?"

"Shit- excuse me ma'am, sorry, it's just my dog he uh... took a liking to my lady's things and made em into a chew toy. Kinda lookin' for a replacement or me and the dog might be sharing a kennel."

"Ah, yes." She smiles politely. "Could you give me an idea of what they were like and I could maybe find something similar?"

Frank scratches at the shorter hairs at the back of his head. "Uhh..."

She examines the frayed edge on the label. "Well we can start with black, right? Sooo lace, satin, silk, a combination? Wired or unwired bra? Full coverage, push-up, plunge, balconette, or maybe something a little more revealing? And how about the panty; brief, short, Brazilian, bikini, thong... crotchless? Do you know what styles she might like?"

Frank's head spins. "Shit, all I know is that she looked killer in them. You think you could gimme a quick crash course in all this, I can try tell you what she likes, definitely what she don't like- maybe find somethin' that won't get me my head ripped off?"

The shop assistant laughs. "Of course."

Frank returns to the apartment feeling more than a little apprehensive. He puts the fancy bag on the middle of the bed with a stern instruction for Max to leave well alone.

By the time you arrive home, he's almost forgotten about the incident, having been distracted with a phonecall from David asking if you guys were free for dinner this Saturday.

"-alright, yeah yeah 'course I'll bring some wine you dope. See ya then." He hangs up as he's walking over to give you a kiss.

"Hey sweetie, how was work?"

"Urgh, just the usual. Who was that?"

"Liebermann asking us to dinner tomorrow. Said yeah, we ain't got nothing else on right?" He helps you with your coat and you kick off your shoes and dump your bag on the couch.

"No that'll be really nice to see them. Okay I'm just gonna jump in the shower, then I'm all yours." You call as you're already walking into the bedroom to undress.

There's a beat, and then-

"Frank...? What's this?" You appear back at the doorway, the the bag dangling from the string handle on your hooked finger.

He sheepishly joins you in the bedroom. "An apology, from Max and me. Mainly Max as I ain't the one that ate your underwear." Frank looks over his shoulder at the dog curled up on the living room couch like he's denying all knowledge.

You snort. "Wait- what?!"

"M'sorry baby, I didn't catch him in time. Was hopin' it's a decent replacement, but if it ain't we can change it. You know I'm crap at this stuff."

You take out the tissue paper package from the bag, sitting on the bed and unwrapping it carefully on your lap. Whatever it is it's black. That's good, not that you were expecting some neon monstrosity from Frank, he was definitely one for the classic look when it came to the bedroom, but then again he'd say he thought you were smoking hot in a tatty old sweater and odd socks.

"You pick this?"

"Well I had some help from the shop (he left a big tip). But yeah. You like it?"

You run your fingers over the soft lacy cup of the wireless bralet, holding it up to look at it more closely. It was the right size anyway, one thing Frank was definitely good at was recon and attention to detail, that is if he didn't already have your bra size and other measurements ingrained in his brain. There were panties to match, not cut too high, again, silky soft, lacy and very sexy.

"I think I'm gonna have to try them on before I make up my mind on whether to forgive Max or not..."

A muscle in Frank's jaw twitches at the challenging look in your eyes as you take the contents of the bag into the ensuite with you, closing the door.

Frank is sat on the bed as you change, patiently waiting, almost biting his nails until you slowly emerge from the bathroom, one mouthwateringly delicious step at a time. You stop and pose, shifting your weight from hip to hip, pouting and biting your bottom lip at him.

"Hmm, what do you think? You wanna eat these panties, Frank?"

You're a fucking goddess. You were aways a goddess but holy crap, you wearing something he picked out and standing in front of him looking at him like that?

You smile a little wickedly as you climb on to him, and as you straddle his lap his hands are already all over your skin, brushing over the pretty straps and seams of your new undergarments.

"Sweetheart, baby, darlin', I wanna eat you."

You grab his face gently, "I was actually thinking that maybe we should save all this for tomorrow night, I'll wear these when we go to David and Sarah's for dinner. What do you reckon? Think you can keep your hands off me till tomorrow night when we get home?"

Frank has to grip his own thighs to stop himself from tackling you to the mattress right now. If this was his punishment it was gonna be unbearable.

"Yeah, okay, whatever you want." He husks, eyes darker than pools of ink.

You boop the end of his crooked nose with your finger before extricating yourself from over his tented sweatpants. "Good boy."

Frank groans as you leave him high and dry and disappear back into the bathroom to shower, wishing he could join you.

It wasn't easy tearing yourself away like that, you wanted him to ravish you as much as he did you. But still, he seemed keen to work for your forgiveness and he was only going to get that through some pretty hard repentance. And besides, you knew how fiery hot the sex was if the two of you had to wait for it.

Saturday night was only the next day and yet it felt like an eternity to Frank after not being able touch you. As he took in your pretty standard jeans and sweater combo his mouth was almost watering as he knew fine well what was hidden underneath. It didn't even matter that you were wearing sexy lingerie or not he just wanted you.

"Frank! Would you pass the fricken potatoes, please?!" David's apparently third request for potatoes shakes him out of his stupor.

"Earth to spaceman Frank, the hell is up with you?" He clicks his fingers either side of his head.

"Huh? Nothin', here." Frank grumbles as he finally sends more carbs David's way.

He's like this all night, and all you can do is try to hide your laughter behind a mouthful of food. Frank's been watching you like a hungry dog the whole time and you're living for it. Sarah knows something's going on but she doesn't ask for details.

"Let's just say he's being denied his treats for a little while." You explained to her with a wink in the kitchen later.

Sarah laughs as she tops up your wine glass. "Oh my god, they get so damn grouchy don't they?"

"And desperate," you add, and she hums knowingly as if she's recalling a specific incident, nodding emphatically.

"Hm, guess we better call it a night. I don't wanna make him suffer too much I guess."

"Oh you're far kinder than me!"

When you make a move to leave, Frank wastes absolutely no time grabbing his jacket and keys.

"Thanks for having us over you guys." You tell the couple, waving.

"No problem," David says, then gestures at Frank. "But hey, look after this big goon will you? His head doesn't seem like it's screwed on right."

"Yeah yeah whatever. G'night." Frank grabs your hand and pulls you towards the truck like the house is on fire as you giggle after him.

"Bye guys!"

When he pulls up at home you've barely shut the truck door before Frank's picking you up and marching to the front door. As soon as he's managed to unlock and slam it behind him he's got you up against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist as he attacks your mouth with his. You gasp as he squeezes your ass through your jeans, mouth traveling down the side of your neck as his hips press against yours letting you feel just how hard you've got him. You claw and shove at his jacket, urging him to take it off and you quickly remove your own and kick off your boots as he shrugs it onto the floor and does the same. He picks you back up again, carrying you straight through to the bedroom. Max raises his head briefly and then grunts as he goes back to sleep.

Once you land on the bed Frank is all over you, big hands caressing your body through your sweater which he yanks up over your head but doesn't remove completely, leaving your arms trapped before his mouth is back on your skin worshipping absolutely every inch of you, his lips and tongue trailing over the lace that contains your breasts.

"Frank- fuck!" You buck your hips up against his.

"Mm you want this now?" He growls and lets you free. You tug at his flannel and he's barely pulled it off before your hands are slipping up under his black shirt and feeling over his stomach and pecs, mapping your territory.

"God, you know how hard it was not to fuck you over that goddamn dining table?"

You tug and pull his belt free from the buckle, yanking down the zipper and slipping your hand in to stroke him firmly through his black boxer briefs. You bite down on your bottom lip, it's like a steel rod. "Was it this hard? Huh?"

"Fuck, baby- you know it." He hisses as you work him through the soft fabric, leaning down and kissing you so hungrily you're soaking though those pretty panties he bought you. It's as if he can sense it, unbuttoning your jeans and thrusting his hand down in front without bothering to take them off. His fingers are firm and focused, tracing the line of your folds where the silk is damp and sticking to your core from your arousal.

"God damn sweetheart..."

You moan as he strokes and cups your pussy, ruining your panties with how turned on you are. You move your hips against his hand, enjoying the delicious friction as you keep rubbing and squeezing his rock hard erection until neither of you can wait any longer. It's you that breaks first, pushing him away while you shimmy out of your jeans in record time. He does the same until he kneeling naked in front of you. You're still wearing the underwear that started all this and you intend to keep wearing it as you crawl forward, push him to lay back on the bed and mount him. He watches you transfixed as you spread your knees wide, simply pulling your panties to one side and sliding slowly down to take his cock inside, inch by fucking beautiful inch. You moan together as he bottoms out, feeling the completeness as he throbs and you squeeze. His hands skate up your back and you start to rock your hips back and forth, the feeling of him dragging against this deepest part of you like nothing else.

"God, you're so fucking incredible." He tells you, those dark brown eyes darting everywhere trying to take in all of you at once.

"So are you. Feels so good Frank-"

Your breath soon changes to short pants as you bounce yourself up and down on his dick, and he holds on to your hips, thrusting his own upwards to meet you, your gorgeous tits looking like they're about to jiggle right out of that little lacy bralet.

"Oh fuck, that's it baby, so good.." He looks down to watch his cock disappear in and out of you, getting covered with more of your cream each time. Your fingers dig into his chest as you hold on, throwing your head back as he palms and caresses one of your breasts, earning a wanton moan from you when he rubs and pinches your hard nipple between his fingers.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist and guide him to where you need him.

"Alright sweetheart, I got you." His breath is coming harder as he watches you intensely, seeing the pleasure twist your features into a picture of ecstacy when he slips his hand between the damp lace and your skin and circles his fingers right on your clit. You fall forward against him and he's got you, one hand between your hot bodies and the other holding your jaw, his thumb over the front of your throat as he keeps fucking up into you hard.

It's been a struggle not to lose his mind already before this point, you're just magic, absolute witchcraft to him. The way you had him begging for your touch, the way you look no matter if you're wearing sexy clothes or not, the way you fucking feel riding his cock. He's gonna see stars soon, he knows it.

Luckily you're on the same page, your moans getting louder and higher, the way you still your body, feeling him pounding into you...

"F-frank I'm-" you gasp as he doubles down, hips pistoning as he rubs your slick throbbing clit so fast you'd swear he was using a toy.

"Come on princess, let me feel it." Frank's strained plea drives you over the edge, undulating your hips with his again as the feeling bubbles up and bursts out from your center and through the rest of your body. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you so passionately, tongue twisting and lapping against yours. He groans long and deep as your tremors bring on his own sweet release, holding on to you tightly, burying himself into you in a last few powerful thrusts.

The two of you lie wrapped in each other for a while, just breathing, until Max pads into the room and starts licking Frank's foot.

"Here's trouble." He announces as he lets his head thunk back on the mattress while you gingerly sit up and raise yourself off him.

"I forgive him." You say smiling at Max as he wags his tail seemingly in understanding.

"You know they say don't blame the dog, blame the owner? Will you forgive me?" Frank looks up at you with the saddest puppy eyes you've ever seen.

"After that? And this?" You say, gesturing to what you're wearing. "Yeah, I think you get a pass too."

You grab his hand and help pull him up. "C'mon baby, let's shower and then take Pantyeater for a walk."

#frank castle x reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle smut

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mirensiart · 2 days ago

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HIIII.

so like I'm new and I'll probably be around for a while!

ANYWAYS. you don't have to do this if it's against your boundaries, but how do you think the chain would react to a period?

like hypothetically, one of them is Trans, or gets cursed into a female body, how do you think that would go for them?

(can I be 🥁anon?)

Oooh don't worry anon!

I personally headcanon some of the boys as afab, so you're good, I don't mind questions like these at all!

I've been asked about the chain + periods before, but I don't think I've gone into detail about it before so! More under the cut hehe

(these are my own interpretation btw! U can headcanon the boys as whatever u want, my vision isn't like canon for the au, I like to leave it vague so anyway can project what they want! But these are what i personally like)

I feel like it depends on the period? Like ok so I'm personally a big enjoyer of sky, twi and wars as butch/transmasc, but they all have very different periods

Sky for example, I love the idea that he's one of the lucky ones who have really short non painful periods, like maybe they hurt the first day a little bit and that's it

Wars on the other hand is full blown painful as fuck period cramps, he is MISERABLE!! nausea, headaches, included. They are short though, intense but short

Twilight is like right in the middle in the sense that they are painful, but they're not as bad as Wars', however they are long, like more than normal, so they're pretty uncomfortable especially on the road

Anyway, I feel like the others would react differently depending on who's it is

Like, no one really notices when Sky has his, like maybe they feel mild pain but they all shrug it as something else.

Wars is like, the most chaotic thing ever and I can see all of the amab links absolutely losing it like oh my god??? What IS THIS??? YOY GO THROUGH THIS EVERY MONTH???

I've mentioned it before, but I personally love the headcanon that wind & time went through the war of eras pre linked universe so they both know about Wars' chaotic periods, but they're both completely floored over how much they really hurt lmao LIKE WOW U WEREN'T LYING ABOUT THIS, ALL THIS TIME WE THOUGHT U WERE JUST DRAMATIC????

Sky is also in the surprised club despite having periods himself, cause like WDYM PERIODS HURT THIS BAD??? WTF???

Twilight's high pain tolerance + him being afab means he's not as affected during it, as like, helps calms everyone down and frets lol

When twilight's period comes around, everyone is miserable cause wdym we have to go through this AGAIN?

The periods eventually synchronize though cause that's what happens when u travel for a long time with other period havers, and shit goes down

Stay at camp or stay at the inn day(s) until they all feel better again

Anyway, thank you for the ask 🥁anon! And sorry for the extensive period talk lol

#funnily enough I'm on my period right now lol #miry's ask box #lu pain sharing au #i don't mind asks about this at all so don't hesitate to ask about it!

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igglemouse · 2 days ago

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Lets start this day with some big news! Our little Flora is officially too big for her crib which means she's grown some! They do grow fast, don't they? It's almost hard to keep up!

Just look at her! My little princesa! She's wiggling and cooing and happy as can be and what else is there to say? I'm soaking in the moment with her and have little else to say. I just feel so lucky and fortunate and I know I keep saying this but all my love is for her right now!

I would have played with her a little more but I think all that growing wore her out, as it tends to do, so I would let her have her nap and whip up a pizza! Pizzas are easy to make thankfully and this one will just be a regular classic pepperoni as you can't go wrong with that. I think I do make a pretty good pizza pie! That's amore!

I think the scent of pizza brings Pascal to the kitchen but when he arrives he's looking a little sad. I admit, the frown on his face makes me forget for a moment that he's been oogling models in his spare time and I can't wait to offer my emotional support.

"What's wrong?" I ask, putting aside his wandering eyes for just a moment. I bet it has something to do with futbol, usually if he's sad that is why, but I can't ignore one significant difference about him. "You umm, forget to shave?"

"That's just it, my razor broke and I might have to go out like this," he looks so disheartened even as he rubs the new beard that now adorns his face.

"You look great! In fact, I'd say keep it!"

"Well, if you say so."

I can't help but chuckle at how dramatic he's being. "You look fine either way! Actually, I think it suits you! You're a daddy now and it matures you some."

"I guess it's not so bad..." he mumbles although the frown on his face doesn't budge. I remind him that there is fresh pizza in the kitchen so if that doesn't make him feel a little better than I don't know what will.

I've decided not to bring up the model oogling just yet. Eventually, yes, but right now I just don't feel it is the right time. I've thought a lot about it last night but I want to keep those thoughts to the side, not let them consume me. He's a man. I know, that's a poor excuse, but it is also the truth. It is also the truth that really I'm still very very very much into him and that right now is enough for me to set it aside and give him the benefit of the doubt.

Instead, my mind drifts to bigger things, longer term things, another baby kind of things and maybe, hopefully, a proposal. Yeah, the big M. I can't help but wonder when it will happen or...if it will happen.

I'll be honest, I probably would've spent the rest of the night overthinking about Pascal's liking history on Simstagram but the moment I see Flora's little face it grounds me completely. She's the result of our passion and love and I won't throw that away on a whim. Feeding her, holding her, playing with her reminds me of what truly matters.

Oh! She loves to hiccup! That makes her a hiccuper? It's the most adorable thing, it's a squeaky little sound and whenever she does it she almost looks confused as if she's asking 'did I do that?' and I have to remind her to have manners! A little lady doesn't go around hiccuping at others after all!

And I love her so much that I am taking her everywhere I go in my little carrier. Thankfully, she's a quiet one and she's pretty calm about being carried around. Only wriggling and cooing here and there and hopefully taking in what will hopefully be her home for many years to come.

Oh! Also, as I'm out and about, I notice that people are recognizing me? Nothing major, a few waves and hellos along with my name "Frida!" and I can't help but wonder is it from my food stand or me new growing SimTube channel? Either way, it does feel nice to be noticed! There's even a fellow food stand chef who offered me a free hotdog but I had to decline because Flora started to whine and flail, her way of wanting to go back home I think.

Oh, and Pascal did spend time with Flora after he came back from a game. I SWEAR she was giving him the side-eye. I might have ummm vented to her about the traveling eyes of men. Not that she could understand a word I've said but maybe, just maybe, she picked up on it in my tone...or it could be she's unsure of him because she really doesn't get to see him too much, he's always working, after all.

Meanwhile, in the poorer part of town, Sara and Simón were curled up together in his humble trailer. He had called her over saying that there was something important they needed to discuss but it didn't end up being much of a conversation. Instead, he simply asked for her loyalty and her love.

She wanted to, she wanted him to be the one, Watcher how she wanted to. He could be her escape, her distraction, her addiction, her everything, how she wanted every bit of that, but she knows oft times the heart doesn't get what it wants. The brain though, the brain can be a lot more realistic with its desires.

"I know what you are," she said suddenly, the realization blowing past her like a chill breeze. Her hands roamed his chest, the tips of her fingers searching for something, reassurance, maybe? The mystery of him perhaps, the missing puzzle piece that would make this thing between them work.

"I know you'd figure it out," his reply was quiet and his voice heavy. He wasn't shocked. He wouldn't deny it or talk her out of it. He couldn't run from his past like Frida because he had become his past and now as he looked at Sara he wondered if she could ever be part of his future. If she should. The danger he could put her through..."So, what do you think?"

"I don't want this to end," she decided, the words surprising even herself. Maybe, just maybe, he was worth the risk. Love is always worth the risk...

Frida Varela - Next Episode 9.5

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 4 #sims legacy #my sims #generation 1 #soot #sims of our time #pascal alcocer #frida varela #simon barrera #sara chavez #florencia alcocer

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my-rose-tinted-glasses · 2 days ago

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Gmmtv 2025

So now, that I have time, I'm actually gonna sit and watch the trailers properly. Let's go.

Dare You to Death - The plot is appealing to me, the cast is interesting. I was never a JD fan so if I decide to watch it will be for all the ensemble and the actual plot.

Head 2 Head - My babies! Forced cohabitation my beloved. I'm gonna pretend I didn't see the vision thingy cause other than that this just seems like a cute bl, and I'm here for that.

Burnout Syndrome - OffGun in a love triangle? Gun being fought over by two men just has god intended? I am so seated for this!

Whale Store xoxo - MilkLove is back and I wanna like this one. It seems cute, and drama light. I'll probably be tuning in.

Only Friends - Dream On - The chill that came down my spine when the song started playing. I left my body. With that said, and like I said before, EarthMix is here, so who am I kidding? I will watch. Kinda surprised to see JossFluke already paired in another bl, before the first one has even started airing. OhmLeng was predictable as a recurring pair and I'm always here for Ohm. Leng has a lot to prove being surrounded by all these names.

That Summer - MOND! Mond kissing boys! That's it.

My Romance Scammer - Not in a million years did I think we would get this OhmFluke combo. Dimples is back kissing boys and Ohm is just back. And MarkJunior seem to be here to stay. Also, I love that since we got gay marriage we should immediately tackle gay divorce. Sounds good.

Melody of Secrets - I'm glad they're back playing adults although the dynamic seems to be the same. I wish they changed it up and let Book be the pursuer. I like the horror elements and we don't get enough of those but I don't know about this one.

Love You Teacher - The first half of this trailer had me. I love Perth and he's playing a grown up so I was sold. And then it happened. And I don't know how I feel about any of it.

MU-TE-LUV - I guess we're getting this and not OurSkyy3. Will watch the queers and the rest we'll see.

Cat for Cash - This is just rude. Do they know that cats are my ultimate weakness? I can't watch all these shows, but a show with talking cats? multiple of them?? C'mon. I'm not even gonna pretend to be torn about this one. I will be watching.

Girl Rules - So, Only Friends but make it sapphic. I'm sad to say, I'll probably pass on this one.

Boys In Love - PAPANG!!! The rumours were true and he's paired with Pod in this. All I saw in this trailer was that and the dimples. Who is that kid? Cause he's adorable. This is the obligatory high-school bl, it looks soft and fluffy. Might check it out.

My Magic Prophecy - I will be skipping this one.

A Dog and a Plane - What a mess of a trailer. But do I care? Not even a little. It's TayNew so I'll be watching with bells on.

Me and Thee - This show will be the true test of how shallow I can get. Will I start a show because Est was wearing glasses in the trailer? Only future me will know. Look, PondPhuwin can play, we know this, but I don't know if I want another show with them so soon. At least they're playing different roles, so there's that.

Wu - Who was saying this wasn't bl? Did you not see the golden thread? And the fate talk? And the looks? And well, everything? It's a bl. I don't know about this one mostly because I don't know the actors. Although tumblr is doing its job well and I'm this close to binging the frenemies show so maybe I'll reevaluate.

Memoir of Rati - I am so easy, it's embarrassing honestly. They so pretty, the scenery is so pretty, historical bl. Sold!

Ticket To Heaven - So many flashbacks to catholic school. It looks good, which doesn't surprise considering it's Aof. I'm glad GeminiFourth are back playing more serious roles. I am really intrigued by this one but also don't trust it completely for some reason. I don't know yet.

Yeah, I'm a sucker. I will be watching most of the first episodes of this line up in like a year when they actually get made. Probably not gonna stick with a lot of them but we'll see. As it's becoming obvious, I'm easy.

Also just a fun fact I guess, and as @lurkingshan as said here, with these shows, 4 couples will hit 5 series as a pair. OffGun, FirstKhao, ForceBook and EarthMix, even though that last one I'm counting Ossan's Love which is also not released yet.

And another thing, of the Gmmtv 2024 QL shows, 7 have yet to premiere. Thame Po, will premiere December 13 but the other six don't have dates yet. They are : My Golden Blood, Ossan's Love, The Ex-Morning, Us, Sweet Tooth Good Dentist and Revamp. So yeah, we're not gonna see any of these new shows anytime soon. Although I'm putting my money on the OffGun series being one of the first to premiere in this line up.

All the trailers and posters for gmmtv2025 can be found here.

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johanna-swann · 4 hours ago

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Okay, but how about an angsty thanksgiving intervention? They have a friendsgiving thingy a couple of days before or after the actual holiday at the Madney house. I imagine Maddie, Chim, Hen, Karen, all their kids and Buck are there. Eddie is in El Paso for the holiday and Bobby and Athena are busy with something else, idk. (I feel like having Bobby there would prevent a lot of the drama, so for reasons he can't be there.)

But Chimney (with Maddie's approval) also invites Tommy - except Tommy doesn't know this is a family event [tm], he thinks Chim just invited him over to hang out. Drink some beer, watch a movie maybe.

And Tommy thinks: "I should probably go, Howie's been my friend for almost 20 years now. I can handle hanging out with an old friend for a night, even if he happens to me ex's brother-in-law. It'll be good for me." But he's completely and utterly unprepared and not ready to run into Buck again so soon, much less in a context that oh so loudly screams "family" and thus represents everything Tommy always wanted and never had. It's an ocean's worth of salt in a fresh wound.

Buck on the other hand doesn't know Tommy's coming to the friendsgiving either. He just prepared a shit ton of food and figured spending time with his family will be a good distraction from the break-up. He hasn't hung out with Hen and Karen in a while and he's looking forward to having all the kids around. Who can mope about a stupid ex when the noise is drowned out by giggling and laughing children running around?

Chim and Maddie hoped that their plan might help Buck and Tommy to at least find some closure or maybe even get them talking to each other again. Either way, at least everyone gets a good, home-cooked meal and some quality time with friends out of it, right?

But then they're suddenly and unexpectedly confronted with each other when neither of them is ready. Buck has barely begun to even process the break-up. Let's be honest, the baking thing has been more of a distraction from thinking about Tommy than a coping mechanism to work through his feelings. He's still a little bit in denial and Tommy crashing his safe-space catapults him into the anger/depression stage.

Tommy could've dealt with a movie night with Chim, could've even coped with having Maddie and Jee-Yun there, but an entire ass family holiday? Avoiding eye contact, forcing smiles, faking normal for hours while pretending he isn't still putting the pieces of his own heart back together? Knowing he will go home alone with the fresh reminder of what he will never truly have and get to keep?

So Tommy awkwardly excuses himself and maybe Buck throws in a bitter: "Yeah, leave. You're good at that." And maybe in an attempt to de-escalate - or at least move the escalation out of earshot from the kids - Maddie suggests they talk outside. But outside they just stare at each other, not knowing what to say. Tommy apologises again, saying he'll just leave and let Buck enjoy the evening.

"It's fine", Buck says: "I think I'll leave too, actually." And Tommy lays into him about how he shouldn't spend the holiday alone when he can just go back inside and be with his family, he shouldn't be sitting in his empty loft when he could play with Jee-Yun or catch up with Karen instead.

Buck finally gets angry about what happened, but he hasn't put his thoughts in order yet, can't put into words what he feels yet. He also feels ambushed and a wee bit manipulated. So he just bites out: "Oh right, I forgot. You're the expert on what I should and shouldn't be doing. God forbid I decide for myself what I want", walks over to his car and drives off.

Tommy sits in his car for a little bit, then he goes home too. Maddie and Chimney feel bad. After they tried to encourage Buck to move on a bit too soon, they overcorrected in the opposite direction and it blew up in their faces. Maddie tries to call Buck, but he's turned off his phone. Chimney tries to reach out to Tommy, but his text sits there delivered, unread and stays unanswered.

Tommy ends up sitting on his couch, crying and staring at the tv which he hasn't even bothered to turn on and Buck spends hours pacing in his kitchen, alternating between wanting to yell at Tommy for breaking up with him in the first place and deleting his number so he'll never even be tempted to talk to him again.

So they all end up spending the friendsgiving evening in varying degrees of misery.

(Maddie, Chimney and Buck patch things up almost immediately. They bring him breakfast the next morning and apologise for springing this on him without warning. He accepts the apology, he knows they meant well and it was actually a nice thing that they tried to include Tommy despite the break-up. He wants Tommy to be happy. Really, he wants Tommy to find whatever he thinks Buck couldn't give him. He hopes Tommy one day finds a man who won't make him run the opposite direction. He wants Tommy to feel good about himself and to have a life full of friends and family and people who he can call his. Eventually. Right now, he admits, he selfishly wants Tommy to feel a bit shit. He hopes Tommy is hurting at least as much as he is. He hopes Tommy's favourite basketball team loses every game of the season. He hopes one of Tommy's coworkers says the q-word and jinxes them for a full 24 hours shift. Buck doesn't know when he started crying, but Chim and Maddie are there for him and they spend most of the day together.)

(Chimney also apologises to Tommy. They don't really talk about it, Tommy doesn't want to. He'd rather listen to Howie gush about becoming a dad again, talk about the next pick-up game and ignore the elephant in the room. It's easy to slip back into the casual friendship, the conversations that are full of movie dialogues and references, the bragging and comparing of batshit calls they've worked in the past 20 years. They don't hang out at Howie's house, they either go to Tommy's or meet at a bar. But Tommy is relieved he at least got to keep this.)

(Buck and Tommy run into each other again a few weeks later. It's the second christmas day, Buck is invited to hang out with the Diaz family. Christopher has agreed to come to LA for a week - a trial run of sorts to help him and Eddie figure out what comes next - and they're all going to spend the day at tía Pepa's. Buck is picking up some groceries on his way there and who does he meet in the canned foods isle? Buck doesn't really know what comes over him, but he suggest they should hang out together while Chris and Eddie are here. All four of them. Eddie was Tommy's friend before they ever went out after all and so was Chimney. Plus, they're all firefighters. They're bound to run into each other again sooner or later, it'd be childish to be hung up on the past. Tommy says yes.)

(They start talking to each other more after that. Not very often, not consistently, not about their break-up. But they talk. It starts with texting and hanging out in group settings. Then the phone calls start. At first just small ones, "it'll be quicker than texting" calls, "I'm ellbows deep in foccacia dough" and "broke my hand on call yesterday, so quite literally can't text" calls. Then they start hanging out one on one again. Neither of them has ever stayed friends with an ex before. Is it supposed to feel like this? Is Tommy's laugh still supposed to make Buck's heart skip a beat like this? Is Evan's soft smile still supposed to melt Tommy's insides like this?)

(They get back together in March. It's not preceded by a big and dramatic event. There's no "life or death" situation, no traumatic incident to make them realise that "tomorrow isn't promised, no awkward jealousy over a new partner. It's just another movie nigh. Buck falls asleep with his head on Tommy's shoulder and Tommy doesn't even think about it before running his fingers through Evan's curls. Buck wakes up as the credits start rolling. He shifts a little, looks up at Tommy, but he doesn't move away. The kiss is soft and chaste and they leave it at that one kiss. Buck doesn't move to the bedroom with Tommy, but he does crash on Tommy's couch. They talk in the morning. They talk about being all in but taking it slow anyway, they talk about crushes and admiration and love and the difference between all three, they finally talk about the break-up. They keep it a secret for a little while. Call it precaution or payback for Chimney's attempt at meddling.)

(They make it three weeks. Then Tommy surprises Buck at his loft and they forget that not only was Eddie supposed to come over, Eddie also has his own key. They never live it down for as long as they're alive.)

#ah yes angst #I'm afraid the author (me) misunderstood the assignment because uh. yeah #that ending doesn't scream “angst”#oh well #angst with a happy ending?#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 abc #fic idea #might turn this into a fic later actually #unless any of y'all wanna do it #long post

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doctor-yoshi-soul · 2 days ago

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I'm gonna have to put a disclaimer at the start of this post that says "I understand what happened to these characters is just fridging and it does suck that that happens to two of the characters who are most prominent to the deeper narrative" because I don't want to get accused of ignoring that altogether

Ok now with that out of the way, I think there is something worth looking into in how it's specifically Alma and FianSissel that this happens to.

I'll ask you this, dear reader: how many characters in the game, other than Yomiel, know about his fiancée? How many of them know she died? That she specifically killed herself? It's one of those questions that the game doesn't really acknowledge (which. Kinda comes back to the fridging thing) but I'd be willing to bet the answer is Very Small. I mean really, who would have known enough to care outside of Cabanela, Jowd, and the Pigeon Guy? And do you think any of them at that point in their lives actually cared about the well-being of a suspect's family? Pigeon Guy is a slim maybe and that's about it. He probably had other shit to care about.

In the end, she didn't matter. She didn't matter to anyone other than Yomiel (from the player's biased perspective) and she's gone and no one (again, from the player perspective) notices. One might say it's just like a certain ghost who can't seem to leave a prominent mark on the world anymore, no?

And then Alma? Here's where it gets interesting. Yomiel didn't just kill Alma to get back at Jowd. He killed Alma to make Jowd understand the pain he went through of losing the woman he loved. They're mirrors, in that way.

So, if given the choice, why the hell would Yomiel bother to learn anything more about the woman he intended to kill? Why wouldn't he offer the exact same amount of compassion given to Sissel? Which of course, is none at all.

And since player Sissel is, in a sense, following Yomiel's trail, whether he realizes it or not, he doesn't get to learn more about Alma either. Forgotten and worthless (and yet still carrying the story on their back).

Like I said I'm well aware this is just fridging and it sucks but I think the fact that both of these women end up scorned by the narrative is fun to consider within that narrative sense too.

#ghost trick #ghost trick spoilers #ghost trick fiansissel #ghost trick alma

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tayjerma · 2 days ago

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Any of the ud girls with a girl pls 🙏🏽

oh of course baby

emily will always find the smallest ways to fluster anybody. she thinks it's absolutely adorable. but she'd never admit that. she'll find a way to constantly touching you. when she walks by them, she'll brush her hand across your waist or back. she'll have her hand on your knee in the car, no matter who's driving. she just likes the contact!

she makes everything into an adventure for 2, midnight snack? going with her. shopping? going with her. even just going for a walk around the block, she thinks any time spent with the one she loves is time well spent. i also think there would be a LOT of vacations in a relationship with emily, she'll take you anywhere. a small beach getaway where it's just you guys & the waves.

jess isn't as forward, she likes having someone else to lead her around. that doesn't mean she won't tell them when she wants something. she's the type of girl to sigh all loud & overdramatic when she feels she's not getting enough attention. and who could say no to that beautiful face?

she comes up with the cutest date ideas, always. she'll plan a picnic where you both get matching outfits, maybe even bring a digital camera and take cute photos. and while jess does love being someone's muse, she adores to listen to you & notice you. she writes down your favorite things, she takes so many photos of you, and of the two of you together, even has a special folder for them. she'll spend long times curating a cute instagram story of the week with her lover front and center.

sam is a bit more private. not in a i-don't-want-anyone-to-know-about-us way, but in a she-loves-incredibly-intimate-and-personally way. she'll randomly surprise you with tiny candle lit dinners in the house, your favorite foods all on the table. she'll wash your hair for you if you've had a rough day.

doesn't mean she doesn't like going out, but she'll make anything more intimate. she'll take you to a museum/an aquarium and hold your hand the entire time. she also LOVES stargazing. she'll grab a blanket, some pillows, a laptop with a quiet movie. and if it gets cold, she'll sidle up with you. and the same goes for drive-in movie theaters.

i'll do another post with ash, beth, and hannah if u want, i didn't wanna bombard lol

#emily davis #jessica riley #samantha giddings #sam giddings x reader #emily davis x reader #jess riley x reader #until dawn #until dawn x reader

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msilwrites · 3 days ago

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Papa and Mama Bear's Dinner (Short, not so short, but funny maybe I'll make a part 2, where they pack leftovers?!!!) - (Captain Price Fic)

(A/N): Hi guys! For those enjoying Papa Bear content, here's a fun peek into the future! This short story is set after Captain Price has already won you (Y/N!) over, and the two of you are now engaged after a few years of dating. This idea popped into my head during lunch, and I just had to share it. Hope you enjoy this playful little story of domestic chaos with Price and the team! 😄

@darkangel4121 @teenagellamaangel @madzzz0797 @callsignferal (To the other's who want to me tagged when there's an update, just tell me at the comments) (I think you folks might like this one, so I also tagged you, lol!)

Warning: Don't read when you're hungry.

😄😄😄😄😄

Summary: In this story set after Captain Price’s retirement, the team initially plans to watch the Rugby Finals at an overcrowded pub. The drinks would be great, but the food? Not so much—the pub’s kitchen struggles with the game-day crowd. Seeing an opportunity, you (Y/N) offer to host everyone at your flat instead, promising good company, warm food, and a much more relaxed atmosphere -- the idea quickly wins everyone over.

As the evening unfolds, Price notices something that sets his teeth on edge: Gaz seems far too familiar with your kitchen. From finding spices in seconds to recommending a snack from your pantry to Simon and Roach, Gaz navigates the space like he owns it. Gaz’s familiarity with your pantry brings a weight to his chest. It’s not just the casual remarks or the ease with which Gaz knows where everything is—it’s the memories behind them, ones Price wasn’t part of. Whilst Price raises an eyebrow, his jaw tightening and Simon, who’s been quietly observing, nervously whispers to Gaz when they were out of the Captains earshot.

Simon mutters, “You’re brave, Gaz. You sure the Captain won’t throw you out for knowing more about her pantry than he does?”

Oblivious to the drama, you continue cooking while the tension builds. Eventually, Price intervenes, banishing Gaz, Simon and Roach from your kitchen with a quiet but firm command. The lads settle in to watch the game, but Price’s protective streak stays strong—he may be retired from active duty, but when it comes to you, he’s still the Captain.

-----------

Price pushed the door open, holding it wide for the rest of the team as the rich aroma of cooking food wafted through the air. The comforting scent of spices and baked dishes immediately drew approving murmurs from Simon and Roach.

“Smells like a proper feast,” Simon remarked, glancing around the space.

The flat itself was as inviting as the meal promised to be—warm lighting, carefully arranged decor, and an undeniable sense of personality in every detail. It was unmistakably your space, filled with charm and practicality.

“Nice place,” Roach commented, running a hand over the back of a sleek armchair.

Gaz, however, wasted no time pointing down the hall toward your studio. “Kitchen’s this way, lads,” he said, already moving. “Trust me, I’ve been here plenty. Back when our circle used to do dinner rotations.”

Price, following closely behind, narrowed his eyes at Gaz’s casual familiarity. “I’m not so possessive, Gaz, that I’d stop your lot from having dinner here,” he said, his voice laced with amusement but edged with something sharper.

Gaz only smirked but said nothing, though Simon and Roach exchanged knowing glances behind him. They knew better than to comment, and all knew the truth—Price was more than a little protective when it came to you.

The group reached the kitchen, where the sight of you bustling between pots and trays greeted them. You had a towel slung over your shoulder, your movements efficient but relaxed as you checked the oven and stirred something on the stove.

“Simon! Roach!” you called out with a bright grin, pausing long enough to give them a wave before turning your attention to Gaz. “And you,” you teased, smacking Gaz on the chest with your dish towel as he laughed.

“Good to see you too,” Gaz laughed, leaning in for a quick hug. “Anything I can help with?”

You gestured toward the stove. “You know the drill. Two pots, two trays—one set of hands isn’t enough.”

Without hesitation, Gaz rolled up his sleeves, already grabbing the spatula by the stove. Price stood at the doorway, watching as you and Gaz fell into an easy rhythm. His jaw tightened slightly as Gaz pointed out where to find something in the pantry, like it was second nature to him.

Simon leaned closer to Roach, murmuring under his breath. “Think the Captain’s regretting that open-door policy now?”

Roach stifled a laugh. “He’ll be fine… probably.”

But the flicker of irritation in Price’s eyes suggested otherwise. He leaned against the doorframe, watching closely as Gaz moved with a little too much familiarity for his liking.

“You’re out of the hosting rotation now,” Gaz mentioned casually to Simon and Roach as he stirred the pot, a relaxed grin on his face. “But back in the day, this place was the spot. She’s got the best pantry setup—you wouldn’t believe the preserves she’s got stashed. There’s a jar of spiced pears over there, and those chili flakes? She dries and crushes them herself.”

As he pointed toward various items in the kitchen, Simon leaned toward Roach, keeping his voice low. “Think the Captain’s gonna be thrilled hearing all that?”

Roach glanced at Price, whose jaw was set a little tighter than before. The Captain’s eyes tracked every move Gaz made as he spoke, as if weighing the words against some unspoken tally.

“Not a chance,” Roach muttered, sharing a knowing glance with Simon.

“Pickle jars, jams, chutneys,” Gaz continued, completely oblivious to the quiet tension building in the kitchen. “Remember that pear and ginger one, Simon? The one the Captain brought? That was amazing. Oh, and the—”

“Gaz,” Price interrupted, his voice calm but carrying a subtle edge. “Why don’t you let her tell ‘em herself instead of narrating her entire pantry?”

“Oh, hehehe…” Gaz laughed awkwardly, a little embarrassed, but clearly unbothered. He then turned to you, grinning. “Right, sorry, forgot where I was for a second.”

“Ah yes, speaking of which, can I offer you lot an appetizer while the main food is cooking?” you asked, setting down your knife and wiping your hands on a towel. The boys nodded eagerly. They’d heard from Gaz about how good your cooking was, and they weren’t about to pass up a taste.

“Gaz, you know where my fruit candy preserves and chips are, right?” you asked, turning toward him as you began chopping ingredients for the sauce. “Help me get the jar and share with the lot.”

Without missing a beat, Gaz led Simon and Roach to the pantry, where the shelves were meticulously arranged, filled with jars of all sizes, some labeled neatly, others just waiting for the right moment to be cracked open. Spices, jams, chutneys, preserves—everything was neatly organized, just as he had described.

“Mate, this place is amazing,” Simon remarked, taking in the neatly organized shelves and rows of different jars filled with a variety of preserved food. “Gaz wasn’t hyping it up, was he? This is a setup!!”

“You weren’t exaggerating, huh?” Roach added, his eyes wide as he scanned the stocked shelves. “I thought you were just being dramatic, but this is something else.”

Gaz grinned, puffing out his chest in mock pride. “I told you so!!” he said, before turning back to the shelf containing an array of different chips, clearly delighted to see everyone impressed by your pantry, and now they know that he wasn't hyping it up.

“Simon, can you reach the higher shelf?” Gaz asked, looking at his friend with a smirk. “I need that candied fruit, the one in the glass jar at the back.”

Simon obligingly reached up and grabbed the jar, while Gaz pulled down another one from a lower shelf—this one containing your homemade lentil spiced chips. He handed one jar to Roach, took the other for himself, knowing full well that it would probably be gone in 15 minutes or less with how good it was.

As they made their way back to the kitchen, Simon gave Gaz a sideways glance, still holding the jar of candied fruit. “You’re brave, Gaz,” he said with a chuckle, knowing exactly how the Captain was likely reacting. “You sure the Captain won’t throw you out for knowing more about her pantry than he does?”

Gaz’s grin faltered for a second as he looked over at Price, who had his arms crossed and was watching the entire exchange with narrowed eyes.

The Captain's expression was somewhere between a smile and something more dangerous, a look that had all three of them feeling like they might’ve overstepped.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from the kitchen, breaking the tension.

“Gaz, Simon? Roach?!! Did you guys find it?!!”

It was Y/N’s voice, calling them back. Without missing a beat, the three of them hurried toward the kitchen, eager to escape Price’s now-not-so-friendly glare. They all knew that look too well—the one that could only mean trouble. As they filed into the kitchen, they couldn’t help but chuckle under their breath, but the Captain’s gaze followed them like a hawk, and the smile on his face only seemed to sharpen.

Y/N moved quickly, pulling out a jar of preserved tomatoes from one of her neatly organized shelves. She took the flat side of the knife and crushed the boiled softened tomatoes in a bowl. “You guys fine with salsa for the chips?” she called out, as she set the jar back and grabbed a jar of chilli.

“Oh yes! Of course, salsa is perfect!” Roach said with enthusiasm.

“I know, right? Those lentil chips go perfectly with it,” Gaz added, eyeing the jar of chips he’d just pulled out.

Y/N then reached for an onion and said, “Gaz, help me crush the tomatoes, and add some paste. Also, dice the onion for the salsa.” She set a jar candle on the counter and lit it, the flickering flame casting a soft light on the kitchen.

Simon and Roach both stopped in their tracks and looked at each other with puzzled expressions. “What’s with the candle?” Simon asked.

Gaz, who had seen this trick many times before, grinned and quickly explained, “Oh! She lights the candle so we won’t cry when chopping the onions.”

Roach raised an eyebrow. “Really? Is that actually a thing?”

Gaz nodded. “Yep, it’s all about the science of it. The flame absorbs the sulfuric compounds that get released when you cut onions. They’re what make you tear up. The candle helps trap those gases before they can reach your eyes.”

Y/N gave a small smile as she turned her attention back to the oven, where the mac and cheese was now giving off an irresistible aroma. “It works every time,” she said.

“Oh my gosh, that smells amazing!!” Simon exclaimed, his attention now completely on the food.

Gaz and Roach, following the plan, got busy chopping the lime to add zest to the salsa, just as Gaz had recommended earlier. Simon was busy crushing the tomatoes, and together, they finished making the salsa.

Gaz quickly cleaned up, putting the chopping board and knife into the dishwasher while Y/N took the tray of mac and cheese from the oven. The golden-brown crust bubbled slightly, and the whole room was filled with the savory, mouth-watering aroma of the dish. Everyone paused for a moment, letting the scent wash over them before Y/N placed the tray on the counter.

"Okay, Gaz and you lot, help me slice this," Y/N said, eyeing the mac and cheese tray. She mentally calculated how many squares it could have. "I say eight even slices?!"

"Oh, of course!" Simon eagerly agreed, reaching for the tray and passing it to Gaz, who was already holding the knife.

"The garlic bread and the pumpkin tomato soup should be ready soon, yeah?!" Y/N added, checking the pot of soup and giving it a quick stir to taste, wondering if it needed any more spices.

"You lot like beer?!" she asked, her attention split between stirring the soup and deciding on the seasoning.

"Oh, hell yeah!!" Roach replied, giving a quick grin.

"Don't mind if I do!" Simon chimed in playfully, his deep voice carrying the usual hint of humor.

"Oooooh!!! She has the best beer selection!" Gaz grinned, eyeing the fridge. "But what do you have in stock now, Y/N?!"

"I’ve got Erdinger, Paulaner, Kirin, some craft beer, Hitachino, Brewlander, Young Master, a bunch of IPAs... Oh! I have Hazy IPA!!!" Y/N listed off, knowing the group loved that particular brew.

"OOOOHHH!! Quick, Roach, that’s her liquor fridge!" Gaz pointed dramatically across the room. "Take the bottles that say HAZY!!"

Roach eagerly made his way to the fridge, his eyes widening at the selection of drinks. Meanwhile, Simon got to work, setting out plates and utensils, readying them for the group.

"Which one? There are too many Hazys!!" Roach exclaimed, his mouth hanging agape as he scanned the liquor closet and fridge attached to it, which was stocked with everything from wine and rare whiskey to rare bourbon and a wide variety of beers.

"Read to me what’s there!" Y/N called out from the stove as she dropped broccoli into the fryer for an additional snack, the noise of oil crackling was too loud. The chips were now all gone, just as Gaz had predicted, and Simon had been snacking steadily while helping in the kitchen.

"Beezer," Roach began reading aloud from the fridge. "'Hazy Little Thing,' 'Black Hops,' 'Behemoth'..."

"Beezer!!" Gaz and Y/N said in unison, both recognizing it as a top-tier choice. They exchanged a quick, eager look.

"But there’s only three left," Roach added, glancing at the remaining bottles.

"That’s fine, you lot can have the Beezer," Y/N said with a wave of her hand. "Pass me a Hitachino, the one with the blue label, Roach, thank you!" She then pulled the deep-fried broccoli from the fryer, placing them on a tissue-lined bowl to drain the excess oil.

Roach grabbed the bottles, turning to Simon for help opening them. Gaz, meanwhile, kept his focus on the mac and cheese, carefully slicing the tray into even pieces.

Simon popped the cap off the Hitachino and handed it to Y/N with a grin. "For the lady boss first," he said, offering the chilled bottle.

"Thanks, Simon," Y/N replied with a smile. As she took the bottle, he caught a glimpse of Price. His sharp gaze was enough to make Simon feel like he'd just made a grave mistake, and he quickly retreated back to the group, taking a sip of his beer to avoid further confrontation.

Roach had finished setting the chips in a bowl and placed the freshly made salsa beside it, ready for everyone to dive in.

“Garlic bread is ready!! And the fried chicken has cooled down!” Y/N announced, the kitchen now filled with the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked garlic bread. The men’s mouths watered, eyes widening as she placed the golden-brown bread on the table, followed by a bowl of crispy fried chicken, still steaming.

"There’s potato salad in the fridge, Roach. Can you grab the container?" she asked, her hands busy finishing the last touches.

Roach eagerly went to the fridge.

“Okay, Gaz, help me slice the garlic bread into… hmmm, eight slices, I think eight should be good!” she said, eyeing the loaf.

“Of course!!” Gaz responded, his eyes already on the food.

“And Simon, can you help me take this to the living room so you lot can eat while you watch the game? Who else is coming? I know some are running late.”

Before anyone could answer, Roach chimed in from the fridge, “Which one is the potato salad?”

Y/N smiled. “The one with the blue ceramic container, the large one! You guys don’t mind taking some home later, right? I made a lot.”

“Definitely!! Oh my gosh, I missed having that!” Gaz sighed, already excited.

The others nodded, knowing how much they loved her cooking.

“Alright, it’s settled then!” Y/N said, before she and Simon began hauling the dishes to the living room. Meanwhile, Kyle and Roach were trying to figure out how to slice the garlic bread.

Simon returned to the kitchen and looked at the bread. “Eh? You’re not done with that yet?”

“The surface is soft, so it won’t really slice evenly,” Roach explained, watching Kyle trying to figure out the best way to slice it.

“We need a bread knife!” Gaz said seriously, seeing the problem at hand.

“Do you know where the bread knife is, Gaz? I’ll grab it,” Simon offered.

Before Simon could move, the unmistakable presence of Captain Price filled the doorway. His trademark “evil ominous smile,” the one that always appeared during interrogations, was firmly in place.

Simon and Roach winced, stepping back as Price slowly advanced towards them. Gaz was still holding the knife, looking just a little too comfortable with it.

“Simon, the bread knife is—” Gaz started, but was immediately interrupted as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up, meeting Price’s intense gaze, and instantly knew: this wasn’t going to end well.

Price’s smile tightened, eyes narrowing dangerously. The air grew thick with tension.

“Take a seat, mate… You’re my guests. You lot shouldn’t be doing the work,” Price said, his voice calm, but there was a steel edge to it that made everyone stiffen.

Simon and Roach exchanged a nervous glance, their faces pale. They both swallowed, unsure of what Price would do next.

“Alright, go on, get yourselves to the living room,” Price added, his tone now firm with unmistakable finality. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Relieved to avoid further confrontation, Gaz, Simon, and Roach quickly retreated to the living room, muttering about needing a break from chopping and slicing. They stumbled over their words as they fled, grateful to be out of the line of fire—for now.

Y/N stepped into the living room, freshly returned from the washroom, where she’d rid herself of the lingering onion smell that had clung to her arms. Her eyes furrowed as she saw the three men sitting together in an unusually stiff and quiet manner. They looked like toddlers who had just been scolded. Her lips pursed with concern as she walked to the side of the couch. “You lot okay? Why are you not eating and drinking?” she asked, her voice laced with worry. They were all holding their beer bottles, sitting like soldiers on duty, clearly hungry but too stiff to touch the food on the coffee table. What was more, the TV was still off—this was not normal.

"Come on, lads! Relax!! Have your meal," she said with a playful but confused smile, giving them an obvious permission to dig in. It wasn’t like they needed it, but when she said it, they immediately jumped at the chance. Plates were filled with hearty portions: a slice of mac and cheese here, a handful of crispy fried chicken drumsticks there, fried broccoli, the last jar of lentil chips, and a bowl of pumpkin tomato soup for dipping their garlic bread, just as Gaz had recommended. They ate like hungry children, devouring everything in sight.

Y/N chuckled at the scene, but then her eyes narrowed slightly, noticing something wasn’t quite right. She fiddled with the remote and turned the volume of the game up. “I’m getting more beer. Is Paulaner okay? I’ve got more bottles of that.”

“Yes, boss! Thank you, boss!!” Simon said, the others echoing him in unison, their voices a little too eager.

Y/N tilted her head as she got a faint suspicion of what was going on. She noticed they had been unusually stiff earlier, like cadets waiting for their Commanding Officer to eat first. And now they were hungrily devouring everything in sight. Something wasn’t adding up, and she was getting a little suspicious. They had been so relaxed earlier, helping her in the kitchen—what happened?

Her eyes then landed on Price, who was now standing by the counter, wearing an apron that fit him just right. The dark brown apron, simple yet dashing, made him look like the kind of man who cooked for his partner with care. He was slicing the garlic bread, but one piece stood out—larger than the others, clearly reserved for himself. Y/N knew exactly what was going on in his head.

“John!! Darling!” Y/N called, walking over to him with a grin. Before she could say anything, he pulled her into a big, warm embrace. He leaned down to kiss her, peppering her face with quick, affectionate pecks, making her giggle uncontrollably.She bit her lip to stop herself from pointing out how uneven the slices were, but she knew it was pointless. Captain Price had that knack of getting away with things, always managing to charm his way out of any little slip-up. She knew she wouldn’t be able to say anything much or make an effective argument about it—he had already won Y/N over with that smile of his.

Y/N’s eyes fell on the large slice of garlic bread John had cut, clearly far bigger than the rest. She raised an eyebrow, smirking and couldn't help but finally remark, “Blimey, John, that slice’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

John’s grin widened as he gently took her hand. “Ah, love, that’s for both of us, don’t you worry,” he said, his voice smooth with affection. “The lads are big eaters, and I know you don’t want to go hungry. I’m just making sure my queen gets served first.”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a playful chuckle. “Mm, is that really true, or are you just trying to hogging portions for yourself?” she teased, nudging him lightly. “I know you’re a big eater, Captain.”

John’s grin didn’t falter. “I’m just looking out for you, love!!”

Y/N’s heart melted at his words, though she couldn’t resist teasing him a bit more. “Lucky you’re cute,” she said, “but next time, I’ll be the one cutting the bread.”

The three men in the background, now happily digging into their meal, glanced over at the scene. They couldn't help but be relieved, knowing the tension had shifted. They were back to eating in peace, no longer under the Captain's intense scrutiny.

Y/N grabbed John's hand and pulled him gently toward his favorite spot on the couch, making sure he was settled comfortably before adjusting the cushions with a satisfied pat. She couldn’t help but notice how the lads were acting a bit jumpy, exchanging uneasy glances and passing the plate of food to John with an odd sort of reverence, like they were handing over a sacred relic.

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. “What’s with you lot?” she asked, eyeing them suspiciously. “You look like you’re about to confess something. It’s just mac and cheese, lads. Nothing to be nervous about.”

The three of them froze, like deer caught in headlights. Roach cleared his throat nervously and tried to act casual. “Uh, just making sure everything’s perfect, you know, boss?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, as she leaned against the doorframe. "Right… perfect, sure," she said dryly, watching as the lads passed John his plate. Their movements were stiff and overly careful, as though they were handling explosives rather than dinner. Her gaze lingered on the hefty portion they'd given him, one eyebrow arching slightly in suspicion.

John settled into the couch with a satisfied expression, immediately digging into his food. His lips quirked into a subtle, knowing smile as he glanced at her, but he said nothing. Y/N caught the look and narrowed her eyes further, her suspicions mounting. Something was definitely up.

She sighed, deciding to let it go for now. "Alright, alright," she said, her voice tinged with playful exasperation as she turned back toward the kitchen. "I'll grab the beers."

Her footsteps retreated, but her eyes lingered on the group, especially on John, for a moment longer. She filed away their behavior for later—she’d get the truth out of them eventually. For now, she grabbed the bottles of beer from the fridge, ready to join the group and keep an eye on the unfolding chaos.

The lads, visibly relieved as Y/N disappeared into the kitchen, finally let out the breaths they’d been holding. Plates were quickly reloaded with mac and cheese, fried chicken, and a handful of other treats as they dug in like starving recruits.

Their eyes, now safe from scrutiny, turned to the game on the telly. The opening minutes were underway, and a roar from the crowd on screen added to the room’s energy.

Kyle leaned forward, chewing on a piece of garlic bread as he muttered something about the team’s lineup. Roach nodded, pointing his fork at the screen in agreement, while Simon, still holding a drumstick, nodded approvingly at a tackle that got the commentators raving.

Not one of them dared glance back toward the kitchen door. The unspoken rule was clear: eat, and watch. Drawing the Captain’s attention or risking a summons back into Y/N’s kitchen wasn’t on the agenda tonight.

A/N: So… do you guys want a Part 2? Because I’ve been thinking: will the lads make it through the rest of the evening intact? Especially with John being all possessive about Y/N and her food. Let me know what you think—I’m excited to see where this chaotic, food-filled continuation goes! 😏 Edit: Part 2 is HERE!!!!!! -------->

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