#sticking headphone wires in my mouth

[the-four-hoursemen]

I need to stop putting headphone wires in my mouth

I keep fu*king up my headphones

On the bonus side my wires are all curled like decorative present ribbons

_Death

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Villain's Protector (Part 1) - Don't Blame Me

Summary: The reader wants out from working for the CIA so they propose a deal. She acts as the captured Soldier Boy's caretaker and she's free to go in six months. Their idea of stealing Soldier Boy's supe altering powers aren't exactly for what the reader thinks though and she needs Solider Boy to escape for her own plans. But those plans go awry when the CIA unleashes a dangerous life-changing weapon and the only way for her and Soldier Boy to survive is to stick together...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy x reader

Word Count: 5,400ish

Warnings: language, violence, torture, bombing,

A/N: This series takes place post Season 3. Please enjoy this first part and let me know what you think!

________

“Y/L/N.” You lifted an eyebrow, finding an unfamiliar older woman at the entrance to your office. Your supervisor nodded beside her and you pulled your headphones off, letting them rest around your neck. “You’re off desk duty.”

“The chatter from these guys-”

“Yeah, I know. Somebody else will handle it. As of five minutes ago, you report to her now,” said your supervisor, rattling a knuckle on the door. You were ready to argue about how you were promised desk duty to finish out these last six months but she was gone before you could blink. You grumbled as the older woman stepped inside, closing the heavy door behind her.

“I heard you want out,” she said. You leaned back in your chair, cocking your head. “Nobody ever really leaves the CIA you know.”

“What’s my handle ID?” you asked, the woman raising her chin. “I ain’t telling you jack shit until I know you’re legit.”

“Black Midnight Angel. You want to get to work now? Or you going to waste more of my time?” You narrowed your eyes, the woman giving it right back. “Work this job for six months until you leave and the agency will pay for your schooling. And I know you’re skeptical so we already wired the funds to your bank account.”

“Black ops?” you asked quietly. She shook her head, taking a seat in the chair across your desk.

“Mallory Fischer,” she said, your lips pressing into a thin line. “You know what I do then.”

“Yes, I do. Question is why do you want me on your team? There are far more qualified people.” She looked you up and down, a small smirk crossing her lips.

“You’re right. Your agent assessment scores are average aside from your intel work. Last time you were in the field you were shot-”

“Why. Me.” You knew it was coming. You knew exactly what was coming.

“You have a year of medical school under your belt.” That…was not what you were expecting. Did she not…know? Maybe not. Fine. You weren’t bringing that up if you could help it.

“I do. You should know that the reason I couldn’t finish was because the CIA recruited me, despite my desire to not join,” you said, letting it hang in the air. Mallory rolled her eyes and crossed her legs. “You people fucked up my life plan you know. I’m thirty two. I’m going to be a good 5 years minimum behind my peers by the time I graduate.”

“Did I give you the impression that I give a shit?” You grumbled but kept your mouth shut. “You agreed to work here.”

“You threatened to deport my friend if I didn’t,” you growled. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have had an ex-boyfriend with ties to-”

“Just stop. What the fuck do you want with me?”

“I have Soldier Boy.” You laughed, Mallory dead eyed. “I’m quite serious.”

“He fucking blew up last week.” Mallory cocked her head. You sighed, running a hand over your mouth. “He fell from, what, the seventieth floor? He’s really that strong?”

“He’s damn near indestructible. If it makes you feel better, Maeve survived too. But seeing as how she hates Vought more than most, we let her slide. Pretty sure she and her girlfriend went up to-” 

“So she’s free and you don’t give a fuck about what she does. Fine. But what the fuck does ‘I have Soldier Boy’ mean exactly?” you asked. Mallory eyed you up and down. 

“He’s Homelanders father.” You rolled your eyes and she frowned. “Why exactly is that not surprising to you?”

“Come on,” you laughed. “The most powerful supe to exist suddenly disappears right around the time Homelander was born? They’re both the poster child for all american wonder boy. I figured he was the dad doing a book report in middle school. It’s not that complicated.”

“Then you can understand why having Homelander’s father provides us an opportunity. His power is the only weapon we have that comes close to taking Homelander out. You watch the news. Homelander is losing his shit. We need to find a way to deal-”

“You don’t need Soldier Boy’s powers to fucking catch Homelander. If you caught pops, you can catch the kid and for the record, I am not one of your fucking super agents so you want me for research, fine. But save the shooting and catching Homelander for your own people.” You scooted your chair in closer to your computer, Mallory grabbing your hand roughly when you placed it on your mouse.

“Soldier Boy didn’t have the power to knock out other supes powers until after the Russian’s tortured him. We need to understand that ability of his and what made it change.” You sighed, pulling your hand away. “Work the job and in six months you’re gone.”

“And what exactly does this job entail?”

“We need a doctor, or the next best thing, for the night shift. Twelve hour shifts. You feed him, clean him, tend to him. Most of the time he’s going to be out cold. It’s maybe an hour of real work a night. You can do whatever the fuck you want in your office when you’re taking care of him, I really don’t care. We just need him in working order, got it?”

You pushed away from your computer, lifting your chin. “And that hour where he’s not out cold? How the fuck do I go near him without dying?”

“You better not be claustrophobic.”

Two Days Later

Mallory had ditched you not five minutes after seven pm after showing you to an office in the very plain looking warehouse in upstate New York. She’d naturally failed to mention that Soldier Boy was being held at a facility outside of the city. But you weren’t about to complain, not when the commute was shorter than your original one. So there you stood, a frozen TV dinner in your backpack, a guard dressed head to toe in black combat gear with an assault rifle almost as big as you, still wondering what the hell you were meant to do.

“You guys got a break room?” you sighed, dumping the bag on the desk and pulling out your dinner.

“Two doors down on the left. Unisex bathroom is around the corner,” he said, still not revealing his face from behind his dark mask. That was fine. He was an overqualified security guard in your mind. “Mallory left a schedule and map of the building on your desk. Burn them when you’ve memorized it.”

“Yup,” you said, walking past him and heading down the hall. “So how many guards are there right now?”

“The only staff on the night shift is yourself, a dozen interior guards, and four patrolling external officers.”

“No custodial staff?” you asked, entering the bare bones room with a microwave, old fridge and a wobbly table. Wonderful.

“No. They clean during the day. The facility isn’t large enough to warrant external help.” You hummed, popping the tray out of the box and into the microwave. “Do you have any further questions?”

“Is the Novichok gas always on in the room he’s held in?” you asked. He shook his head.

“He’s kept in a cryo tube during the night. Before entering the room, we will fill the room with gas for five minutes that will allow him to waken slightly but remain harmless. You will then enter in your hazmat suit and remove him from the chamber where you will perform your duties. When you indicate you are finished, we will increase the gas until he passes out and you can place him back in the tube. When you leave the room, we will stop the gas.” 

“Does he eat during the day? What about the bathroom?” He was still and you frowned. “Dude. I get that everything is need to know but I need to know basic shit about my patient.”

“You feed him according to the schedule. He has a catheter.”

“And going number two?” 

“He doesn’t get solids.”

“I don’t care what kind of liquid diet he’s on, he’s still going to shit.”

“I have my job, you have yours.” 

You grumbled when he left, hitting the power on for your dinner. Just what you wanted for a career. Wipe the ass of the world’s most powerful supe.

You tried to forget about that portion of your “duties” as you ate your meal. It was still going to be easier than your first rotation in med school, that was for sure. He’d just…lay there drugged out of his mind. With the small threat in the air of if your hazmat suit tore for any reason, like say an angry supe being held prisoner grabbed it and ripped the plastic which he very likely was capable of even in that state. 

Easy peasy.

You were able to distract yourself for an hour by walking the halls to figure out the layout of the building. The guard had been right. It wasn’t a large building. There were a few offices and typical building facilities in the front of the building. Security was stationed in the middle and Soldier Boy’s holding cell along with a viewing room was in the back corner. What appeared to be an operating room was further down the hall but that wasn’t entirely uncalled for in a black ops prison like this. You couldn’t exactly take your wounded agents or prisoners to a normal hospital. 

You ended your self-guided tour in the viewing room staring down at the dark room below. Save for the soft blue light emitting from the cryo tube. You couldn’t see much at the angle. The top of the tube was see through but all you spotted were a pair of bare feet.

“He’s not strapped down?” you asked as the door to your right opened, a guard stepping through, this one slightly shorter than the one you’d spoken to originally.

“No. You’ll need to move him around. He’s wearing a face mask providing a direct stream of Novichok gas to him. You only need to remove it when you shove a tube down his throat for feeding. I’d suggest saving that for last.”

You quirked an eyebrow up. He was a supe, sure. This was a CIA secret holding prison, sure. The treatment of prisoners didn’t exactly have to adhere to the Geneva Convention in this kind of environment.

But it felt gross treating him like a meat puppet, keeping him alive only to figure out his powers. Which made you consider something else.

“Why go through the trouble of keeping him alive? Wouldn’t it be easier to just drown him? Or just take his DNA and recreate the power aspect?” you asked. Unsurprisingly, the guard didn’t answer. You crossed your arms, glancing at the clock on the wall. It wasn’t much past eight and there were still a few hours until his scheduled “wake” time. “New plan.”

“New…plan?” he asked. You just knew he was rolling his eyes at you behind those thick black goggles.

“Well he’s my patient, isn’t he? I’m making a new schedule, one that’s more appropriate for the patient.”

“You can’t do that,” he said quickly, your chin raising. “He’s a prisoner.”

“I know I’m just the glorified ass wiper for this guy but the more he feels like he has someone in his corner, the more apt he is to let a secret loose. Maybe he says jack shit but maybe he tells me what the russians did so you can figure out whatever power crap you’re looking for. Got it?” 

“That’s the Y/N I’d expect.” You turned around, Mallory appearing in a doorway behind you. “Dismissed, Greg.”

“Don’t play games with me,” you said when the guard left. Mallory took a few steps forward to join you at your side, peering down into the room below. 

“We had to know you’d be a team player. You’re not dumb. I think you can understand why I want you to do this job, even if you don’t have your medical degree.” You narrowed your eyes. 

“Am I supposed to be his doctor or his fake friend? Which is it?” you asked.

“Both. It probably won’t work, the cocky bastard’s too smart for it, but it doesn’t hurt to try every option. I’d like to think you in particular would be willing to do whatever it takes to figure out that supe destroying beam of his. Am I wrong?” You ignored her, staring through the glass to the dark room. 

“You hired me to be his doctor so that’s what I’ll be. Anything more will be my choice, am I clear?” 

“Fine. Now let’s get you acquainted with your patient.”

“Fine.” You turned and left the room, heading down a set of stairs. You were in a changing room that had hazmat suits and respirators, different outfits for you to choose from. Along the back was a fridge that held his food, a thick mixture that looked completely unappealing. Beside the fridge was a cart for you to bring in and out, a medical bag on top but otherwise it was bare.

You stared at the options and sighed as you picked up the gas mask on its own. For one, if he wanted to kill you, he really could, suit or no suit. But mostly you had a bad feeling in your gut, like he needed some actual human interaction. If they were barely letting him be conscious during the day, he was going to start having problems. Namely, the angry supe was only going to get angrier which meant more violent which meant way more likely he killed you.

A gentle hand might be the only way to get through these six months in one piece. 

After securing your mask, you made a note of the log by the fridge, surprised to find he’d been fed roughly an hour before your shift started. Huh. Maybe they were treating him better than you’d though. With your bag in hand, you hit the button on the wall, thick metal doors opening and allowing you to step into an air lock. You hit the button behind you, sealing it off and then a large black one with a hazard symbol over it. A small light appeared red over the button for a moment before turning green. You hit the button on the far wall and another thick door opened to the dim room. A fine mist clung to the air, deadly novichok swirling all around you. You raised your arm, checking for any reaction but you weren’t expecting one. Novichok was an aerosol. You had to breathe it in to suffer any consequences which hopefully you’d never find out how that felt.

The door shut quietly behind you, leaving you alone save for Mallory observing from behind the thick glass panel above.

You set the bag down, approaching the side of the far end of the chamber and hitting a large black button. A locking mechanism released, the door swinging open and allowing you to grab the end of the pull out tray. The first thing you noticed was Soldier Boy was naked, followed by a slight warmth to the air. The tray helped but he was heavy, a solid wall of muscle you noticed as your eyes darted over his body. Every inch of him oozed strength.

Ever so gently, you moved to his side, knuckles grazing over up his leg, over his strong thigh, soldi chest. You rested your palm over his chest, a slow, steady beat thrumming away.

You didn’t falter, didn’t do anything strange as you started to check his pulse, mind wandering while you went through the motions.

Sure, you’d be his fucking doctor. Until you figured out how to get him out of there that was. 

Ten minutes later you returned to the viewing room where Mallory had remained, her focus on Soldier Boy below.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I know you’re thinking about how to break him out. Why do you think I hired you?” You smirked, cocking your head. 

“So you don’t want me for my medical knowledge. Shocking.”

“Fuck no, just like I know you have no desire to finish med school. Use that money for whatever the fuck you want. You do what I ask and we’ll give you ten times that and maybe we end up dealing with your little…problem along the way.”

You glanced at Soldier Boy, pursing your lips. “Why the ruse? Why not just tell me you want me to act like I’m the only one on his side?”

“Because I had to see how good an actor you are. The second I told you he can take away another supes powers…you should have seen your face. You were already in. You’ll have to be on all the time with him though. No mistakes. He’ll snap your neck if he finds out.”

Your gaze shot back to Mallory, her mouth forming a small smile. “I’m good at pretending everything is just fine. So what exactly is the plan to get him to trust me?”

“Be his friend. A few weeks from now you’ll miraculously break him out after learning about the torture he goes through during the day in our attempts to understand his powers. He’ll be leery of course but weak with the massive dose of novichok will get in him. By the time it wears off, he’ll trust that you’re a caretaker for him, likely even fall for you. And then? You prove your loyalty, shower him with that love he so desperately wants but won’t admit to. By then, he’ll blow the powers out of whoever you tell him to. He’ll be our loaded gun without even realizing.”

“That’s what you wanted all along,” you said, Mallory nodding for the two of you to leave the room, heading down a hallway. “Because if it doesn’t work, you can blame it all on me.”

“There’s a reason I wanted you on this job kid and it’s not just because that man will take one look at you and want to screw you. You will need to adapt on the fly. Use that head of yours and we’ll relay the list of supes we want him to take out and then he’ll go back in his box.”

“We’ll worry about that later. Let’s just hope he doesn’t kill me first.”

You were tired when you got home from work the next day around seven thirty in the morning. Mallory and security had given you an in-depth briefing of their plans. It was all very simple. Manipulate him. Make him see you as his only friend. Break him out and make him reliant on you to the point where he was doing exactly what they wanted without lifting a finger.

Except that wasn’t your plan. You’d break him out, play along to get him there but the second you had him alone, you’d tell him the truth.

And if he killed you in a fit of rage, so be it.

If he even could.

Three Weeks Later

You were grateful Mallory no longer came into work during your shifts. She wasn’t suspicious of you. Shit, she thought she had you read like an open book and you were perfectly happy to let everyone keep on thinking that. The guards left you alone unless you asked for something from them which meant you spent a lot of time either in Ben’s room, you’d taken to calling him Ben when you went in with him, or sitting in the observation room with a book.

It wasn’t hard to feign boredom when there wasn’t much to do. You desperately wanted to spend more time with Ben but it was dangerous to leave him off the gas for more than thirty minutes at a time. He wasn’t exactly what you’d call cognitively aware when you’d pull open the drawer and assess him. His eyes would flutter open weakly, a glimpse of an angry glare behind them before he’d call you a bitch and they’d shut again, his chest rising and falling deeper than when he slept. 

Which meant you were in for a fun time in about forty five minutes when you were supposed to “break him free” according to the plan. You were meant to go about your usual routine with him before they’d take him away to the operating room they called it. More like commit war crimes against a prisoner.

You didn’t know exactly what they were doing to him during the day but it was bad enough that Ben was starting to show injuries. Injuries. On an all powerful supe. Nothing major. A few bruises and scratches but it meant something was up and you wanted to be done with this charade and now.

You just needed Soldier Boy to take care of Reaper, that god awful supe, and then he could do whatever the fuck he wanted for all you cared.

A faint scream in the distance made your head snap up. You heard it again and closed your book. Who the hell would be screaming in a place like this? You got up and headed down the hall, dipping your head in the observation room.

A louder scream rang out as you saw the empty cryo chamber. You ran out to the hall, bumping into a guard.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, Lance from the sounds of it. 

“Where is he?” you asked, more screams heard now.

“Oh. Yeah, they kept him in the operating room longer today so he can do his ‘breakout’ with you soon. Sorry for the noise, he can get loud sometimes.”

“What?” you asked, furrowing your brow. 

“The breakout. You’re supposed to grab him from the operating-“

“I know which room I’m supposed to fake the breakout from. Why is he screaming?” you asked. The guard blinked, raising an eyebrow.

“He always screams. I would too if they shoved nuclear waste through a needle into my eyeball.” You scrunched up one eye, the guard giving you a look like you were the weird one. “It’s the only way they get the red matter out of him…”

“If you have your fucking red matter then what the fuck are you faking a break out for,” you growled. The guard held up his hands. “I asked a question.”

“Listen. I’m only telling you this cause I like you. They needed to fake a breakout that way they can drop their red matter bomb they’ve been brewing up and wipe out Soldier Boy and let the fallout spread down to the city and kill all the supes there, including Homelander. You were…the fall guy,” he said quietly. Your eye twitched as you grabbed his assault rifle, jamming the end under his jaw. “Y/N-”

“The only reason I’ll let you live is because you warned me. Now put on your gas mask.” He hesitantly did as told, securing it before you clocked him in the back of the head. 

Soldier Boy let out another pained scream and you’d had enough. You grabbed your gas mask from your office and ducked into the security office, grateful to find it empty. A large red button behind glass sat on the far end of the console.

NOVICHOK - EMERGENCY USE ONLY

“Fuckers,” you said before smashing it, jamming it with the butt of your weapon. You watched on screen as people started to panic and then came the screams in the hallways as the nerve gas tore through their nervous systems, quickly but oh so painfully killing them. You knew there’d be a few people that would see the flashing amber lights in the halls and get their masks on before they keeled over. Whatever.

You’d deal with those people easily enough.

The monitors showed most people had gone down, convulsing violently as they foamed at the mouth. The south hallway was clear and after checking your gun, you ducked back outside, slipping the sidearm from the guard you’d knocked out into the back of your jeans. Soldier Boy had stopped screaming, the halls eerily quiet. Still, you stepped carefully, amber flashes bouncing off the dull gray walls.

Past the bodies, you went down the far passage, taking a breath before opening the double doors. Blood stained the walls. Dried blood. Old, rusty, oxidized blood. 

“What the fuck…” you trailed off, eyes settling on where a barely conscious Soldier Boy lay restrained on the metal table in the center of the room. 

“Y/N,” he mumbled, your eyes widening briefly. He rarely spent time awake with you and the rare occasion he did he’d only ever called you curses. 

“Can you fight?” you asked, unbuckling the thick leather restraint wrapped around his right wrist. He was strong, powerful. But even he couldn’t escape when they kept him gasing him all the time. He grunted, closing his eyes. “Most of them are dead but there’s stragglers to deal with.”

“Why?” You raised an eyebrow under your mask, removing the leather restraints over his torso and left wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you out of here. I need to get you up North,” you said, strapping the gun over your body. You helped him sit up, Soldier Boy’s body lax, littered with dark bruises. “Can you walk?”

He only stared as he slumped against your chest, face jammed against your body before mumbling, “You got great tits.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” you muttered. You grasped his shoulders, forcing him upright, Soldier Boy scowling as you barely kept his heavy body steady. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he tried to growl, coming out like a petulant child instead. You rolled your eyes, scanning the room quickly. Trays of syringes littered the room, bottles of something red inside some, a cream white liquid in another. “Fuck off.”

You dropped his shoulder, grasping his jaw hard, Soldier Boy flinching slightly at the touch. You’d deal with whatever the fuck that reaction was later. 

“I will leave you here to die you insolent little man-child. Cut. The. Shit. Now.” The hardness in his gaze stopped, an almost panicked expression replacing it. “Work with me here. What’d they do to you? Why are you the equivalent of a sack of potatoes?”

“They keep me gassed and stick the white stuff in my eyes. I think it’s novichok,” he said. He closed his eyes, slumping forward ever so slightly before flying them open. “It’s the only way they get the drugs in. Or out.”

“Out?” You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. “Later. Can you move on your own or no?”

“I’m fucked for at least a few hours. Does that answer your fucking question?” He spit out the words, his glare indicating you’d be thrown against a wall if he were capable at the moment.

“Little bastard,” you grumbled to yourself, slinging the automatic rifle across your chest. He raised an eyebrow as you sighed. “Here’s how this works. You do as I say or you can die here. Your choice.”

“Get me the hell out of this shithole,” he growled, reluctantly holding out a hand. You turned, squatting down and pulling him into a fireman’s carry. He was warm against you, two hundred plus pounds of solid muscle. “At least you ain’t a weakling.”

“Shut up. Take that handgun in my waistband and shoot anything that moves and I mean anything.” He grunted which you took as an answer. You shifted you itself. Fuck, he was heavy. Dead weight too. 

He might be able to run his mouth but that was all he had going for him. He nearly dropped the gun the second he took it out of the back of your jeans. Without another word, you exited the room, fine mist filling the corridors. Quickly, you moved down the hall, Soldier Boy grunting more than once.

“Shut up,” you whispered.

“Fuck off,” he snapped back, albeit more quietly. With gritted teeth, you continued forward, eyes flaring wide when you saw movement ahead. Gunfire rang out as you spun around, Soldier Boy hissing as loud shots fired off behind you. It went quiet, Ben dropping huffing against your back. “Thanks for using me as a fucking meat shield. That’s the only reason you busted me out, isn’t it?”

You dropped him straight on the ground, straddling his hips, not even a flicker of amusement on his face. You held up the gun, Soldier Boy scoffing. “What part of listening to what the fuck I say don’t you understand?”

“Leave me to die then, bitch.” You grabbed his jaw, pressing your thumb right under his eyes socket, his eyes narrowing. You pointed the gun at the inner corner, his eyes focused on the barrel.

“I need you to kill a supe for me. Reaper.”

“Reaper? That dumb fuck kid? Why the-” You pressed the hot barrel against his cheek, Ben growling.

“It doesn’t matter why I want him dead but I do. You will die if we stay here, Ben,” you said, tucking the gun back away. You sighed, checking the silent hallways once before re-focusing on him. “Lots of people hurt you. People here hurt you. But I am the only one that’s ever tried to protect you from something. So be quiet or I will leave.”

A grin crawled onto his face, a frown forming on yours. “You need me, don’t you sweetheart? Cut the tough guy act-”

You grabbed his throat, Soldier Boy’s eyes narrowing. “A bomb is going to drop killing all supes on the eastern seaboard. That’s us and you know what? Fuck it. Maybe I get lucky and this thing kills Reaper somehow and I don’t need you.”

“Dramatic are we?” he said as you stood upright. You got three steps down the hall when he slammed his fist against the cement floor. “Fine! I’ll shut up and kill Reaper for you. Now get me out.”

You smirked, wiping it off your face and hoisting him up once more. He stuck to his word, keeping his lips sealed as you made your way out, shooting one more guard at the front lobby area before you were in the parking lot. 

After a quick check for trackers and bombs, you picked him up off the cold pavement, sitting him in the passenger seat of your SUV.

“My suit,” he mumbled. “Need my suit.”

“Already in my trunk. I was supposed to take break you out,” you said, closing the door.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked when you got behind the wheel, leaning over to buckle him up so he didn’t slump over.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, pulling off your mask and tossing it in the back seat. “We need to-“

You both tensed when the night sky lit up red in the distance, a towering inferno blazing up into the atmosphere from the direction of the city.

He grabbed your hand as a shockwave barreled toward you, both of you flinching as a strange feeling washed through your bones.

But you also felt a sharp familiar zap kick in and course through your arm, straight into his hand. He pulled his hand away, staring at you. 

“What the fuck was that? Why the fuck aren’t we dead?” he asked, flexing his hand as best he could.

“I sort of…can’t die. I guess that bomb can’t kill me…or Reaper,” you mumbled, turning the car on and driving out of the compound. All the while you felt his drugged up stare. “I can’t control it. But good news for you, apparently you can’t die either when you’re touching me.”

You didn’t want to acknowledge that you felt all of his fear and pain when you’d somehow protected him. How afraid he was. How fucking alone he felt way, way deep down in a place even he didn’t touch until the moment of immediate death.

You slowed down, reaching over to hold his hand, ignoring the way he relaxed at the touch. Soldier Boy was out cold fast as the adrenaline wore off, his grasp on you too tight to slip out of.

You didn’t get far though, barely a few miles up the road when you saw people arguing outside a house, strange red streaks across their skin.

What the fuck did that bomb do?

Unfortunately for the two of you, you didn’t have to wait long to find out.

____________

A/N: Part 2 coming soon!

[jihyoruri]

firecracker!yn facts I miss my hot head

FIRECRACKER!YN FACTS

firecracker!yn, was added to lesserafim in the summer of 2022 making her a late added member

firecracker!yn, before she was a trainee she did taekwondo and was so big that she could’ve been the youngest to go to the olympics

firecracker!yn, loves ghibli so much it’s an obsession she has everything ghibli

firecracker!yn, has major anger issues and it gets really bad sometimes like her issues are not a joking matter to the members and they’ll immediately go after the person who tries to trigger her purposefully.

firecracker!yn, has really bad vision and is always in her glasses the, only time you won’t see her in them is when she’s on stage.

firecracker!yn, is the second youngest of the group only being a year older than eunchae.

firecracker!yn, likes be alone, she’s always in her room and in behind the scene videos she’s always in her own corner on the couch mostly staring off into space.

firecracker!yn, loves wired headphones like for some reason she can’t stand bluetooth.

firecracker!yn, she’s really close friends with rei from ive.

firecracker!yn, has the biggest beef with yunjin it’s the funniest things ever.

firecracker!yn, loves sakura so much like that’s her mom.

firecracker!yn, is forced to have chaewon sit beside her during interviews so the leader can monitor her when she gets the mic (chaewon is genuinely scared of what yn will say because she’s so unpredictable.)

firecracker!yn, she’s a chrome hearts ambassador

firecracker!yn, has the biggest beef with minji

firecracker!yn, is known for how bored she looks during award shows (but she’s actually amazed she just doesn’t know how to express facial expressions if it isn’t anger)

firecracker!yn, is blackpink’s biggest fan fan ( it was confirmed that rosé follows yn’s insta on her private account, in one of her fim-vlogs there’s a blackpink light stick in the background in her room, she wore a born pink tour shirt at the airport, she had a jisoo photo card in the back of her case for a while, when the girls filmed karaoke for a vid the only song yn participated in was playing with fire, a leaked photo of younger yn at a blackpink concert and there’s clips of every time an interviewer asks the girls about other groups yn finds a way to bring up blackpink)

firecracker!yn, along with blackpink being her favourite 3rd gen group, aespa is her fav 4th gen group.

firecracker!yn, is called the ace of her group because of how she excels in rap dance and singing and writing and producing.

firecracker!yn, likes to keep her hair short but always has crazy highlights in it.

firecracker!yn, has a soft voice for someone who’s so grungy and is always mad.

firecracker!yn, wrote and produced, impurities and celestial and for other groups she’s produced and written, cool with you, get up newjeans, sacrifice(eat me up), chaconne enhypen, my night routine formis_9 (SHE IS HYBES ELITE EMPLOYEE)

firecracker!yn, has compilations of her laughing at something eunchae said but then immediately making her face straight again.

firecracker!yn, is the biggest instigator when it comes to her members arguing with each other because most of time its the other way around and it’s her arguing with them.

firecracker!yn, has two locks on her door.

firecracker!yn, grew up with her dad, her two older brothers and her little brother .

firecracker!yn, has a loose mouth and is constantly getting caught swearing on camera.

firecracker!yn, biggest scandal is her telling yunjin that she’s gonna push her off the stage in the background of one of their videos.

firecracker!yn, either has a blackpink photocard in the back of her phone or a iz*one sakura photo card.

firecracker!yn, has a belly and tongue piercing that she got without any her member knowing (she literally have chaewon a heart attack when she saw it)

[steakout-05]

i had. an idea. a while ago (and i mean probably back in mid 2023) i drew a little concept for what a Barry Steakfries plush could hypothetically look like in one of my old sketchbooks, but never really expanded on it beyond just a simple sketch. a couple days ago though, after i fixed up some holes in a couple of my old plushies, i remembered that concept and got absolutely flooded with a ton of ideas for a plushie i could possibly make for myself in the future. i quickly sketched some stuff down yesterday and here's what i made :)

this is inspired by the awesome drawings of a makeship style Barry plush by schnabel53 and the Barry plush Daisy Parker created back in 2013, as well as the Fruit Ninja Sensei plush Halfbick produced!! i love the look of plushies that are in a more standard standing pose with floppier limbs and i wanted to revisit the old idea i had and expand on it a little bit. here's some very rough and rushed sketches of the side, back and how he would hold his jetpack:

(why tf is that side profile so red lmao)

features:

little magnets on the inside of his hands that can hold stuff

embroidered facial features

his suit jacket can be taken off and replaced with other clothes

little plastic circles on the bottom of his shoes to retain their shape and make sitting him down easier

his body would be completely made out of minky or a similar soft fabric, with clothing made out of a soft material similar to material that the Spamton plush's jacket is made out of (for lack of better comparison lol). his tie would also be made out of minky with no stuffing.

his eyebrows are a separate part that slightly protrudes from his face rather than being embroidered

his jetpack handles have a wire inside and are posable, as well as having a magnet inside that Barry's hands can stick to

accessories:

the machine gun jetpack from MD and JJ

his shotgun from MD

a coin and a spin token

a mini Craig plush

important: i have absolutely no idea if i'm ever going to actually make this or not, these are just concepts. however i have been making little tests with felt and fleece to get myself used to sewing stuff again, as it has been a very long time since i made anything comparable to a plush, and i would like to see this idea realised some day and expand my creative skills. it's just not a guarantee. also since a couple days ago i have literally been obsessed with the thought of sewing into something and have been looking in my closet for any plushies that have holes that need to be sewn up just so i can practise it on some actual material, i'm going insane about it loll

further ideas that i may or may not do (depending on if i want to do them lol):

giving Barry more accessories like a couple of the gadgets from Jetpack Joyride (i'm thinking a lucky last token, air barrys or the gravity belt), revive hearts, a gun from JJ2, his pistol from AOZ and a mini supply crate, a tiny zombie t-rex for him to hold and of course: a plate of steak and fries. maybe also a little australian flag to hold :3

making a repaired suit (with visible seams for extra detail) for Barry

making a few of the Jetpack Joyride costume pieces for him, such as the DJ Barry headphones, the Sensei outfit and maybe even the maid outfit if i'm feeling ballsy enough

making concepts for Flash, Craig and Salesman Barry plushes

Flash accessories and features: the little toy remote thing from the JJ2 anniversary art, some sort of futuristic lookin tennis ball thing, a rocket jet for him to wear (like the one he wears when Barry is operating the Lil' Stomper), a small patterned pillow to sleep on and a bone for him to hold with a magnet located near his mouth. i think it'd also be cute if i were to hypothetically give him a nose that lights up but that's crossing the line of plushmaking and into adruino coding (which i have no clue how to do nor do i have the resources) if i were to actually make that lol

Craig accessories and features: a mini Barry plush, a clipboard and pen, little emotive thingies (like a sweat bead, blush, a question and exclamation mark) to stick on his face via magnets, removable gloves,

Salesman Barry accessories and features: his nametag, removable glasses, his briefcase, a mini gramophone, a clipboard, a little business card

[lancearcherinrippedjeans]

Eternity - Chapter 9

*************

Is has been ALMOST A YEAR. WOW. So many of you have been waiting, here it is.

*************

Starring - Sawyer Holden, Veronica Rodriguez, Nova Jay, Kenny Omega, Adam Page, WARHORSE, The Young Bucks and many small appearances

Word Count - 6,076

Category - Angst, violence, small comedy bits, but this is a very "dark" chapter

Chapter 9/?

Summary - Full Gear has arrived. How will this rivalry end between Sawyer and Veronica? Their lives are about to change forever.

Warnings/Comments - There's so much violence and anger and NEGATIVITY in this chapter guys. Follow @adriii-omega

*************

ALLELITEWRESTLING- 

BREAKING NEWS : The finals to see who will be the new number one contender for Hikaru Shida’s women championship will now be decided in a Barbed Wire Death Match! The matchup of Sawyer Holden and Veronica Rodriguez will now be the MAIN EVENT of Full Gear this Sunday! 

Warhorse had been lifting in a gym near his home. Music blasting through his headphones, his mind was only on this last rep. The music quieted, meaning a notification had popped up. He sighed, before bending over to pick up his phone. His eyes largened, “Oh no… no. No!” He rolled his eyes, as he already saw tweets from the other AEW wrestlers picking sides. “I got to do something. They’re gonna to fucking get hurt!” He yelled in the gym, which he thanked God was pretty much empty. 

He clicked on Sawyer’s contact name and typed out a text- “I’m calling you in 30 minutes.” Warhorse saw she read it, and shut the phone off before he could see her response. He was determined to wonder what was going on through his friend’s heads, knowing that neither of them were thinking straight.

Sawyer responded to the text, before throwing her phone back down. She got back to her spot on the mat, near Lance Archer. She shouldn’t have any distractions, especially not the night before this huge match. She kept her eyes on the red spots tapped down on the punching bag. She kept going faster and even harder as Lance Archer shouted things at her, keeping the punching bag in place.

They had been training her for this match since the night after the brawl that she claims Veronica started. 

“Left! Right! Stomach!” Archer watched as Sawyer was definitely hitting the targets, but holding back on her strength. He pulled the punching bag away to where she couldn’t reach. 

“What the hell, Lance?” Lance put his hands on Sawyer’s shoulders, “Sawyer, you’re supposed to be my baby murderhawk. And you won’t murder shit if you don’t get your head in the game.” 

Sawyer opened her mouth to protest before he interrupted, “Close your eyes. I want you to think about the match.” Sawyer huffed, closing her eyes and crossing her arms.

“Now imagine, there’s exploding barbed wire all around you. There’s kendo sticks broken everywhere, thumbtacks all over the ground. And you and Veronica are standing face to face, you’re so close to winning that championship,” Sawyer visibly felt angrier, the thought of Veronica winning consuming her, when Lance slapped Sawyer one good time across the face, “And she once again slaps the taste out your mouth.”

Sawyer opens her mouth to yell at Lance before she realizes how angry Veronica made her, stooping that low, like they weren’t even equal anymore. Sawyer opened her eyes, throwing the boxing gloves off and turning back to the punching bag.

Lance held the bag in place as Sawyer delivered punches, this time not holding back. All Sawyer could see was Veronica’s sinister smirk, wanting to beat it off her face. Sawyer’s knuckles started to throb, ignoring it continuing to attack the bag.

The thought of Veronica standing tall at the end of the match made her lose it, causing the punching bag to rip open, sand falling everywhere. Sawyer didn’t even look surprised. She didn’t know how hard Veronica was training right now, but tomorrow, nothing would matter.

Sawyer didn’t want the championship opportunity. She wanted to humiliate Veronica, teach her a lesson. Hell, Sawyer wanted to end her best friend.

*************

 “To the soon to be champions of All Elite Wrestling!” Brandon Cutler raised his drink in one hand, while holding his camera in the other. “Introducing your soon to be tag team champions… The Young Bucks!” Matt and Nick did their signature pose, making Veronica roll her eyes with a chuckle. 

“Ooo me next!” Kenny rested his hand on Veronica’s waist, and with his free arm, flexed his bicep through his shirt. “Fine.” Brandon huffed. “The man who not only will win tomorrow, but go on to defeat Jon Moxley… the Cleaner… Kenny Omega!” The group applauded, as he made a couple faces at the camera.

“Introduce my girl,” he pointed at Veronica, making her grin. “How could we forget,” Cutler said, putting her in the frame, “The lovely, Veronica!”

Matt whistled, “Sawyer or Shida don’t stand a chance.” He smugged, while Nick draped his arm around her shoulder.

“You damn right they don’t!” Cutler screamed from the other side. She looked around in bliss, spacing out as the group joked around a bit. 

Nick nudged her, “You alright? You sort of zoned out on us.” The group turned their heads looking at her, “Yea. Everything is perfect. Just thinking how good we’re all gonna look with the gold tomorrow.” She raised her glass in the air, causing the rest to clink their root bears. 

Veronica stifled a yawn, and sipped on her drink slowly. She squeezed Kenny’s hand making him turn his attention to her, “I’m glad you’re here.” He whispered. She gave him a toothy grin as her heart began to flutter, “I am too. Tomorrow is our night.” He kissed the inside of her palm before setting it in his lap, and continuing his conversation with Nick about a recent video game he started playing. She only heard bits, as the only thing on her mind was not wanting to let down the people around her.

*************

Sawyer sat her phone up on her bathroom sink, just finishing her shower. Warhorse stared at her in silence, before speaking up, “I should be there.”

“Jake-“

“No! It’s true, I felt like I could have prevented this…COME ON A DEATH MATCH?! Whose brilliant idea was that?”

“Try Kenny Omega. You think I would trust myself with that idea?” Sawyer said, finishing drying her hair. He held his hands in defense, “I’m just saying Sawyer, Veronica has won more of these matches. I just don’t want you guys to actually hurt each other out there.”

“Jake, she’s hurt me more times I could count… but when she went against the script to embarrass me on national television, that’s when I knew she was putting that mop head, a championship, and this company over our friendship... I’ve accepted that I’m not getting my best friend back. And if that’s the case, I want her to be terrified of me.”

“Sawyer you don’t mean that,” Warhorse tried to reason with her, “It’s the heat of the moment. When you win and you’re celebrating, all you’re gonna want is Veronica there with you.”

“You can fly in, right? That’ll be enough.” Sawyer tried to say sarcastically, but Jake wasn’t amused. “I mean it, Sawyer. Be a good sport about it. Even if she won’t. Things may never be the same but that doesn’t mean to make the situation worse.”

Sawyer huffed, “Alright MOM. I’ll be a good sport. I guess you got a point.”

Warhorse smiled, “I know I do. Now! Get some rest, partying is the exact opposite of what you should be doing right now.” Sawyer groaned picking up the phone, “I will…but I would like to note that you said “WHEN” I win.” She cheekily grinned, making him groan.

“Oh my god! Goodnight Sawyer! I Love you.”

“Goodnight, Jake. Love you too.” Sawyer hung up, putting her phone on her nightstand. 

*************

Sawyer set her stuff in her locker room. Sighing to herself. So many interviewers, makeup artists, and stage hands came up to her in the fifteen minutes it took to find her door. She looked in the mirror, questioning herself, “Is this all worth it? For revenge? To prove I’m not below her?”

Looking in the mirror, she began to wonder who she had become. The old Sawyer never let her anger get the best of her, but now, she couldn’t even recognize who the new Sawyer was.  Her negative thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock, and before she could even answer, John Silver and Alex Reynolds walked in.

“There she is! The next number one contender!” Alex said, pulling Sawyer in for a hug. Sawyer clenched her teeth, trying to look as unannoyed as possible. “Hey you two! Silver, are you ready for your match?”

Silver put on a cocky smile, “Oh, you already know. Orange will never know what hit him, he’ll be like,” he cleared his throat, putting on a raspy and lazy voice, “Oh my god I can’t believe Silver beat me, I guess I should’ve gotten my hands out of my pockets.”

Alex laughed at Silver’s impression, while Sawyer cringed. Alex and John quickly noticed Sawyer wasn’t laughing, as they awkwardly quieted down. 

Alex put his hand on Sawyer’s shoulder, “Are you okay? You seem…off.” Sawyer shook her head, “I’m great. Just the fact that my best friend has put me through living hell and tonight I’m finally giving her a taste of her own medicine.”

John cheered, receiving a glare from Alex. John mumbled sorry before Sawyer continued, “I mean, this could’ve all been avoided. If she just didn’t slap me on national television. Like what the hell?”

The two men looked at each other then back at Sawyer, nervous looks forming on their faces. “Yeah…about that.” Alex said, scratching the back of his head, shuffling away from Sawyer. She arched her brow, when Silver blurted out, “We were trying to help you out, but we ended up pissing her off…” John cringed, “And we’re the reason she kinda slapped you.”

Sawyer sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “So my life is being risked in a Barbed Wire DEATHMATCH, because you wanted to make her cry?” 

“It was mainly John! He even called her a hoe!” Alex said, pointing at his tag partner. “Alex what the fuck!”

“JUST…get out. Please… before I kill both of you before the Buy-In even starts.” Sawyer said, grabbing her ring gear. 

Alex and John shuffled out the locker room, before Alex peeped in one last time, “You’re gonna do great, Sawyer. The Dark Order is all rooting for you.”

Sawyer smiled, hearing the door shut. Her mood became lighter, as she really did realize that she might have lost a good friend, she was making more along the way.

*************

The preshow had just begun to start. The few fans took their seats around the arena and began to cheer as the countdown to Full Gear was on. Hangman had just come from collecting his new and “improved” gear for tonight when he saw Veronica walking in. 

She looked stressed, her hair was tied up in a messy bun and her sweatpants sagged extra low. She honestly looked like she hadn’t had a good sleep in weeks. Seemingly to be in her own little world, not noticing any of her surroundings. “Thanks for making my gear, I bet it looks awesome!” She thanked the seamstress, before taking her items and beginning to head back. Hangman began to panic, holding his arm out while speaking before he got the chance to think. “I can’t wait to see it!” he shot. 

She jumped in surprise, “Oh…I didn’t know you were here,” she eyed him suspiciously, “Thanks though… and good luck tonight.” She tried to leave again, until he pulled her back. “Wait, no. You’re not just gonna leave me here again. Aren’t we going to talk about-”

“I don’t think there’s anything to discuss. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we all got shit going on right now. I’m not trying to be a distraction.” She spat at him with a bit of venom. It stung him a bit, making him loosen his grip. “You aren’t a distraction to me V! I just thought I finally had a friend around here.” Her eyes softened, but she shook her head with disbelief. “Why do you keep trying with me… haven’t I given you enough reasons not to trust me Adam? I’m no good for you.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me…” He said to her, “Just like you shouldn’t let Kenny keep making decisions for you.” Veronica looked at him in confusion. He chuckled at her expression, “Sweets, you gotta see what he’s doing to you.” He laughed. 

“You… you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This…” he pointed at her, “Has Kenny Omega and the Young Bucks written all over it. You’re their little group project.” He confessed. She clenched her fist to the side, and clicked her tongue. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Veronica responded. Hangman squinting at her, then at the bag in her hand, “Let me see your ring gear.”

“I don’t want to show you. You will have to wait like everyone else.” She pinned the bag behind her back, out of his reach. “Fine. You got me… is that free ice cream?” He pointed down the hall, making her whole body turn quicker than she could get the chance to react. He swiftly snatched the bag out of her hand, “Alright, let’s see…” He placed the bag nicely on a nearby table and began to unzip it. 

A smile formed, as he was in awe of the diamonds. He ran his hand down it, “Wow… Sandra really outdid herself with this one.” His hand stopped as his fingers got tangled, he looked over at her before pulling the jacket out. “TASSELS?”

“Would you be quiet!” She grabbed the jacket back from him, and put it nicely back in the bag. “Mind your business.”

“You have never worn tassels before. That’s new… kinda reminds me of a certain tag team, and those shorts are way… different from your usual baggy style.”

“Am I not allowed to try new things? My baggy pants, and hot tops are still there. I just wanted to spice it up for the pay per view tonight.” She smiled, “Plus… the tassels were a recommendation from Matt. It’s a one time thing.”

He scoffed at that, “He’s always recommending tassels to everyone… they couldn’t pay me enough to wear that shit.” She let out a small laugh before leaning in, “I think you could pull it off almost as good as them.” Veronica complimented with a smirk. “No, I’m okay… I’ll stick to my things, and you stick to… whatever that is.”

“I’m going to make you eat your words, Page.” She picked up her belongings, and made her way back to the locker room. He watched her go, and when she was gone he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Page let his head fall back on the wall behind him, and ran his fingers through his hair. Even after she put him through hell… she was back where she’s been since he met her. In his head. And with his match coming up in less than half an hour… he knew he was doomed.

*************

Nova waited for her cue to go out, which was a certain signal from Ricky and Brian Cage. Taz had come out, yelling at Cody and Darby on the mic. When Brian attacked Darby from behind, with Ricky following him after, she knew she was coming up soon. She watched as Brian threw Cody right into Ricky for a spear.

Right when they grabbed Darby, she ran out, pretending to get in between the two teams. The audience popped, Taz however, was screaming at the top of his lungs for her to move.

She went up to Ricky, pretending to lecture him.

“It looks like Nova and Ricky are having a bit of a disagreement here, Excalibur.” Tony Schiavone said, watching this all go down on the monitor. 

Nova “gave up”, throwing her hands in the air and turning towards Brian, who was holding up Darby by the back of the neck. They stared each other down, when Nova delivered a clean roundhouse kick, straight to the left side of Darby’s face. The crowd was shocked, but no one showed it more than Taz. 

Nova rolled out the ring, yelling at Brian to push Darby out. She dragged him over to the car, which he had made his entrance on, calling Ricky and Brian over. 

Brian hoisted Darby up, before powerbombing him onto the windshield. Nova and Ricky smirked, making their way up to the stage. Taz looked in disbelief, before holding his hand out to Nova.

She hesitated to put hers out, before she finally shook his hand, “Welcome to Team Taz.” He said, yelling at the camera guy to come closer.

“New Team Taz member! Nova Jay! The Supernova!”

Nova smirked, when Ricky grabbed her by the waist, kissing her passionately. They smiled at the camera before making their way backstage, Nova was finally noticed, and she was going to make sure everyone’s eyes stayed on her.

*************

Sawyer cracked her knuckles. Everything and everyone around her becoming quiet. Her earphones blasting. Her heart pounding. This was it. 

“Sawyer you’re on after this break!” Dustin Rhodes called from his monitor, “Go teach that bitch a lesson.” Sawyer handed her phone to Nova, who looked like she was about to vomit. “I’ll be fine.” Sawyer assured her friend, “This needs to be done.” 

“Why did it have to come to this though. Sure, you and Veronica have fought a hundred times before. But this is …” She stopped as she looked over and saw Veronica coming in. New ring gear on display, as she got rid of the baggy pants and went to new revealing shorts and a gorgeous rhinestone jacket with a picture on the back she couldn’t recognize, along white long tassels… it was hard to miss her. 

The wrestlers began to find any monitor they could, not wanting to miss a second of anything. Talking amongst themselves, placing bets. In awe of the reaction that the two had gotten in such a short amount of time. The crowd was awake, and ready for a fight.

“Knock ‘em dead baby! We’ll be here when you get back!” Chuck Taylor quickly yelled, making Sawyer turn just in time to catch him. She gave him a thumbs up, before she headed through the curtain.

Taylor glanced in Veronica’s direction feeling her stare already on him. He rolled his eyes at her before going to find a seat next to Trent and Orange.

 “Popcorn?” Trent offered as Chuck sat down. Orange lazily stuck some kernels in his mouth.

“I’m not sure what trick she has up her sleeve, but I don’t like it.” Chuck gestures toward Veronica who was beginning to warm up. “Her presence is enough to mess with your mind. Don’t worry about it, Sawyer is gonna WHOOP DAT ASS!” Trent said loudly, on purpose earning a scoff from behind them. The three turned around and were met with Kenny Omega and The Young Bucks. “You sure are biting off more than you can chew, Baretta.” Matt snarled. Orange looked between the two, lowering his glasses.

Trent spoke up again, “Matt, no matter how hard you try. She isn’t going to sleep. with you. You need to realize that. It’s starting to seem desperate at this point-”

“Choose your next words carefully, momma’s boy.” Kenny got in his face. “I wouldn’t let her name leave your mouth again, if I were you.” Trent bit the inside of his mouth, looking back at his friends. “Forget it man, let’s just watch the match.” Chuck patted down the chairs, getting them to cool it. From the back of his head he could feel Matt began to burn holes through the trio making him smirk to himself. He had hit a nerve with Matt Jackson, and nobody knew that but him.

The beat dropped for Sawyer's entrance music, making the crowd more electric than they already were. She couldn’t help the smile break through as she stood on the ramp. The pyro went off, and she posed for the camera. She removed her jacket, revealing a dark gothic attire. The front row of wrestlers applauded, as she walked down to the ring, she got on the apron and began to take it all in, knowing this was the only bit of peace for a long time.

Veronica tilted her head in Nova’s direction as she passed. Not caring about Ricky clutching her to his side, or the glare they both gave her. She shrugged it off and went out as if this was an actual “storyline.” 

She walked out earning a mix of boos and cheers. She closed her eyes and turned her back. Revealing her jacket, to be a picture of a throwback photo of her, Sawyer, and Nova… with a drawn on angel halo hovering over her, and devil horns drawn on Sawyer. She chuckled at her antics, and spreader her arms to let the tassels gracefully fall, “Let’s fucking go!” She yelled, before making her way to the inside of the ring.

Sawyer never took her eyes off Veronica, ever since her music hit. If looks could kill, they’d both be dead. The bell rang, and Sawyer extended her hands outward for a lock up, while Veronica extended a foot— that connected with Sawyer’s nose. She blindly rolled her up, but Sawyer kicked out before three making the crowd gasp. She quickly backed up in the corner, trying to avoid the ropes from blowing up around her.

“WHAT THE HELL V?” She yelled, getting in her face. “YOU REALLY WANNA START LIKE THIS?” She pushed Veronica, making her fall on her backside. She immediately got back up, getting right back in her face. “Hit me.” She repeated, while harshly shoving Sawyer. “I know you want to.” 

Sawyer raised her fist, only to be slapped by Veronica before she could react. The crowd sat on the edge of their seats in anticipation, watching Sawyer blow the hair out her face, and stare down Veronica between her brows. She slightly gulped, not breaking her stare. Sawyer began delivering rapid kicks to her sides, then quickly delivering an arm drag sending Veronica just inches away from ropes. 

Her eyes widened, as she realized how close she was. Turning around she attempted to run away, but was met with a dropkick that sent her flying into the ropes, immediately feeling the electric wire going off around her. She yelped, as she rolled to the outside, not wanting Sawyer to gain an upper hand. Her skin began to burn, and the wind that was knocked out of her was still trying to come back. 

Sawyer’s first thoughts being to go check on her, before remembering the reason they were in this match in the first place. She shook her head, shaking all the sympathy away. As she climbed to the top turnbuckle, she stood along with the crowd. Phones flashing, their voices rising. Screaming, as she attempted a perfect moonsault to the outside. Suddenly, feeling a devastating crack to her ribs, causing the audience to fall in silence. Veronica held the kendo stick in her hand, leaning on the barricade. She watched Sawyer lay on the floor, refs coming to check on her. She pulled Bryce by his T-Shirt, wanting to continue the damage. She swung another good three times, before rolling her back in carefully. She went for the pin, once again.

1…

2…

“This fight will continue,” Tony yells in his headsweat. Sweat beading off his forehead. “We all knew that wasn’t gonna be enough to put down the Angel Slayer.” Jim added. “It’s almost as if…that name couldn’t be any more truer tonight. The white, the diamonds, the entrance…Veronica is the angel that Sawyer is slaying tonight. We’re in for one hell of a ride.”

The two had been going back and forth for about fifteen minutes. Each seeming to have a counter for each other’s move, and when they didn’t…they just started beating the absolute shit out of each other. Blood was pouring from the hairline of Sawyer, who had been curb stomped on a pile of chairs. While Veronica's left eye was beginning to swell up, as well as a huge slash from being sliced by a piece of the broken table.

Luckily, Sawyer had done her best to avoid the electric wire throughout the whole match so far. The two crawled their way back into the middle of the ring, Veronica kicked pieces of broken table out of her way. She gestured her finger at Sawyer telling her to bring it on. She charged, only to be hit with a drop toe hold. She held her mouth, and realized she fell forward on a steel chair. Immediately, tasting blood. Veronica smirked to the hardcam , rolling out the ring and pulling up the ring skirt. She tossed a couple of kendo sticks on the ramp way, for an emergency. She faked a confused face, before innocently pulling out a light tube. She rolled in the ring, swirling it around. Sawyer saw it, and let out a groan. She raised her middle fingers up, spitting blood at her. Veronica laughed, wiping it off and whispered, “You asked for this bitch” before cracking the tube on her head, glass shattering around them. Quickly covering for the pin. 

1..

2..

Sawyer barely kicked out. Making Veronica throw a tantrum, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” She screamed at Bryce, who did his best not to back down. “LEARN TO DO YOUR JOB.” Veronica pointed her finger in his chest. 

“Back off of me. Focus on your match, Rodriguez.” 

“Don’t tell me- AH!”

Veronica was lifted from the ground, and placed on Sawyer’s shoulder, who when no one was looking had wrapped a piece of barbed wire around her kneepad. Veronica tried to scramble, hearing the crowd go crazy as Sawyer signaled for the Go to Sleep with her hands. She successfully hit it, cringing as she stuck to Veronica’s forehead. The crowd gasped, and held their hands over their mouths. She went for the pin.

1…

2…

Aubrey was milliseconds away from her hitting the mat, they could feel it.

“WHAT? VERONICA KICKED OUT. VERONICA KICKED OUT,” Excalibur rose from his seat. “BARBED WIRE IS STICKING TO HER FOREHEAD…WHAT THE HELL?” Jim asked with concern. “What are we witnessing here folks?” 

“This is awesome!” The crowd chanted, if there was a roof on Daily’s Place, it would have been blown straight off.

Sawyer laid in the corner, not knowing what else to do as she stared at her former best friend with widened eyes. Veronica waved towards the entrance ramp, signaling for someone to come out. Sawyer turned her head with confusion, tears forming as she saw Kenny Omega and the Young Bucks dragging a helpless Chuck Taylor and Orange Cassidy.  She stared in horror as she saw Orange and Chuck get hit repeatedly in the torso with kendo sticks. Their cries making Sawyer furious.

“You bitch.” Sawyer huffed, as she began to drag Veronica back by her feet. Veronica kicked, connecting with her busted lip, making her curse. Veronica quickly snapped up, ducking as Sawyer attempted to grab her. Going around her and connecting her arms for a snap dragon suplex. An idea popped in her head, as she looked at her boyfriend who nodded with darkened eyes. She backed up to the ropes, breathing in, and before she breathed out she delivered a devastating snapdragon sending Sawyer through a ton of pain, as her neck was met with electricity. She hid her face, as she repeatedly hit the mat, doing everything to not let her pain be shown.

Sawyer stumbled to stand, as Veronica began to spit more venom at her, “You thought what they did was bad?” She chuckled, as Matt threw a kendo stick in her direction. She picked it up, and placed it under Sawyer’s chin making her look at her. “Watch this-” She swung, only for it to be caught under Sawyer’s arm. She gritted her teeth, not letting her react to the sting. Veronica did her best to pull it back, but she wasn’t budging.

Veronica reached her arm back to attempt to slap Sawyer again, but she grabbed onto her, slowly looking up at Veronica with angry eyes. Sawyer delivered a headbutt to Veronica’s, “That’s for bringing your boyfriend into this!” Left hook, “That’s for hurting my friends!” She kicked her in the stomach so her back hit the turnbuckles, “THAT is for putting a title over our friendship!” Sawyer balanced the kendo stick in her hand, “And THIS is for all the pain and tears you’ve put me through since July!” She went feral, whacking Veronica left and right. Veronica bawled up on the floor, trying her best to avoid her. Only to get hit harder, not being able to move. She whacked Veronica in the back once more long enough to climb to the top rope. Sawyer stood and looked around the crowd of people and wrestlers, who cheered her on as she finally did what she always wanted to do. A swanton bomb, on live pay-per view. The crowd erupted as Sawyer went in for the pin, without her Canadian Destroyer.

1...

2…

3!

The girls laid there, staring at the ceiling. Their breathing rapid, their faces red. Veronica felt the tears start to form, she scooted away to the other side of the ring, hand over mouth holding back sobs. 

“Sawyer.” Chuck shook her, “You did it baby. It’s over.” He groaned, holding his side. Her head snapped towards him, and Cassidy who were both equally hurting. “Me? I won?” She looked with disbelief. Orange gave her a thumbs up, as she pulled them in for a hug. “I’m so sorry you guys got hurt.” 

“Eh.” Cassidy lazily replied, “We lived.” 

Veronica watched the three, not realizing her own group was next to her. “Let’s get out of here.” Nick bent down to help her up, she wrapped an arm around his shoulder looking for Kenny who couldn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he angrily stared at Sawyer, who had the biggest grin on her face as she stared back. 

“Kenny-“ Veronica reached out, his demeanor broken, as he saw her covered in blood. “Jesus Christ…”He commented, pulling her away, flinching when he heard her wince. “Careful with her hip, it’s gushing.” Matt commented. 

Veronica tried to respond, telling them that she was fine until she saw Hikaru Shida walk right past her, with her AEW Women's Championship straight to the ring for Sawyer. 

Jealousy filled up, and she couldn’t help looking away as they stared down at each other. The sounds of her boyfriend’s concern were muffled, as all she could do was focus on them. Sawyer couldn’t help but glare past Shida sometimes. Veronica’s tears staining her brain. Eventually, Tony Khan came out applauding as the crowd gave a standing ovation. 

It was over. It was finally over.

—-------

Sawyer tried her best to get rid of the smile on her face, but she just couldn’t. She was on Cloud 9. Of course, something felt off. She knew what it was, Veronica. But she knew, she couldn’t let this affect her celebration. She turned up the music playing from her speaker, hoping that even Rihanna could distract her from this feeling.

Just as she put on the finishing touches of her outfit, there was a knock on the locker room door. “Come in!” Wardlow walked in, bouquet of flowers in hand, “There’s the next women’s champ! God, you’re amazing.” Sawyer gasped, “Michael! You’re so sweet.” She took the flowers, giving him a kiss.

“So, you really gave Veronica hell out there. How about you and I go to dinner? You’re already dressed, and of course, I have another gift for you back at the hotel.” He smirked, grabbing Sawyer by the waist from behind, hands sliding up and down her body.

“That sounds lovely Michael, but some of my friends set up a party for me at my favorite bar downtown. You wanna come with?” She asked innocently, thinking nothing of it. Wardlow’s energy shifted, he suddenly just seemed furious.

“You’re kidding. You’d rather spend this win with vodka and screaming than wine and classical music?” He asked, acting like there was no discussion. “Uh, yeah. It is my celebration.” Sawyer grabbed her purse, heading for the door.

“And let me guess, Chuck set this celebration up.”

Sawyer stopped in her tracks, her mind was telling her a million things, but only one was the right thing to do. “Well, you caught me. Chuck did set this up. And Isiah. Along with Nova and Ricky. And how could I forget ‘your’ buddy, Max? My friends set this up, Michael. They knew this would make me happy and they were right, I’m going!”

“I knew you were still talking to that weirdo! I knew I couldn’t trust you. If you walk out that door, we’re finished.” He threatened. Sawyer only stared back, frowning, tears forming in her eyes.

“After everything I went through tonight,” Sawyer choked on her words, before cutting the act, “You think I’m scared of a white man breaking up with me? I’ve seen some stupid shit, but this has gotta be the stupidest shit ever. We’re done, the third shot is dedicated to you!”

Sawyer cackled, walking out of the locker room, knowing that Wardlow no longer affected her. 

On the other side of Daily’s Place, the Elite got to the back. Veronica doing her best to not crumble in front of the roster. She felt a hand leave her lower back, causing her to stop them in their tracks. “Kenny, what are you doing?” Matt asked, not sure why he stopped walking. 

“You guys go on without me… I have to catch up with Don.” He looked between them, giving a disappointed look toward Veronica, “Just let me know what the doctor says.” 

Veronica’s face grew with confusion, “You’re not coming with me?” Matt held his grip on her wrist, as she tried to walk away from them. “You’re hurt.” He reminded her, “I’ll make sure she gets back.”

“Thanks man.” Kenny spoke, “I got to go fix this. I’m not letting her screw up ruin my future plans.”

Nick’s eyes widened, as a silence fell between the group. Veronica felt her blood begin to boil, as his words finally hit her. “I can’t believe you. I know I didn’t win, but I tried my best and-“

“Save it. I don’t want to hear any more excuses tonight.” He rolled his eyes, before pulling out his phone typing rapidly. Nick and Matt looked between each other, not sure what to do. Veronica pushed through, wincing at every step she took. “You know what? This loss isn’t on ME. It’s on YOU, and you know that. You told the whole world that I was this Elite superstar, and you never once considered my feelings.” Her voice trembled, “Sawyer and Nova want nothing to do with me, because of you, and now I’m finally understanding why.”

She shoved Nick and Matt’s hands off of her as she walked off in her own direction. 

As Kenny watched Veronica walk away, he groaned, throwing his hands up in the air, “I swear to God, I don’t know what her deal is.” He marched off, mumbling to the Bucks about not following him. “She has to be kidding, none of this is my fault. I got her here at the top. In this company, I gave her everything. It’s all-” His own thoughts were interrupted, almost making him stop in his tracks.

“It’s all her.”

Sawyer and Nova stared back, trying their best to hide their grins. “Looks like someone will be sleeping on the couch tonight.” Nova joked. Kenny shook his head, embarrassment beginning to wash over him. 

“You couldn’t even help your own girlfriend, when she needed it most.” Sawyer spoke up, “What makes you think YOU could defeat me?”

He opened his mouth to argue, being cut off by a car honking grabbing their attention, Nova rushed over to the side door leaving Sawyer. 

“One day, Veronica will realize that you were nothing more than a weight holding her down. It really sucks that you were the reason we had to nearly kill each other tonight, but if you think that I won’t stop trying to get my friend back… you’ve got another thing coming.” She pulled her glasses down on her head, letting herself finally relax. 

“Goodbye, and Goodnight Omega.”

◤━━━━━━━━━━━◥

Feels nice to be back, chapter 10 is coming soon.

[icingsweet]

wc: works with percy!

CAT, 28, GMT;  SHE/THEY. | if you’re hearing ANTAGONIST by NOVA TWINS playing, you have to know ERIN WILLIAMS  (THEY/HE; ENBY) is near by! the 25 year old BARTENDER has been in denver for, like, 5 YEARS. they’re known to be quite CYNICAL, but being RELENTLESS seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble QUINTESSA SWINDELL. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those WEARING SUNGLASSES INSIDE, HEADPHONES ON, PATCHES AND PINS, and UNANSWERED TEXTS vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around LAKERIDGE DISTRICT long enough! 

BASICS:

NAME: erin williams.

NIKNAMES: will accept rin.

AGE: twenty-five.

BIRTHDAY: february 10th.

ETHNICITY: african-american and white. 

GENDER AND PRONOUNS: non-binary, they/he. 

SEXUALITY: pansexual.

OCCUPATION: bartender.

CONNECTIONS:

banks - roomie, before and after incarceration.

unnamed third roomie - wanted connection!

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

unnamed third roomie

friend (erin doesn't make friends easily!)

ex-friends with benefits

enemies

PHYSICAL:

HAIR COLOUR: brown.

EYE COLOUR: brown.

HEIGHT: 5 foot 3 inches.

PIERCINGS: septum piercing. 

TATTOOS: little pieces around their body until they can afford a big piece. 

SCARS: hands, noticeable the palm side on their right hand. 

BIOGRAPHY:

tw: fighting / glass injuries. 

It’s always been him looking out for himself. Life for Erin growing up was group homes and residential child care before they aged out of the system, having no connections and no supportive networks they learned from an early age that they had to be ​self-sufficient because there wasn’t any other choice. 

Before ending up in Colorado, but by no means settling, they moved around from grubby motel to grubby motel trying to survive on the scraps their minimum wage jobs gave them. Even though Denver offers another dead-end job they now have a small apartment with two roommates - that’s the first time they’ve had an ounce of support so it was worth sticking around.

While Banks was always a live wire there was more to him than that. Once you got passed the tough exterior he was goofy and protective — it was the first time somebody was protective over Erin it was the latter in combination with his temper which was dangerous. Late one night the two were headed home from a club when somebody couldn’t hold their mouth, and like a natural reflex Erin always gave as good as they got, until the other swung an empty bottle they tried to stop with their hand. All they remember is blood and the look on Banks' face. 

While Erin has a million conflicting thoughts about him being arrested, it boils down to how guilty they feel for not de-escalating the situation and as a result Erin tries to keep their anger in check. Even years later they still have trouble with their hand as a muscle the glass cut never healed back to normal, the scar tissue makes it difficult to stretch their hand and it’s noticeably weaker than the other. While their hands are generally littered with scars from previous jobs, mostly burn marks from being a barista, the ones on their palms are the most notable. 

OTHER:

Making friends is hard for them. If it’s not them being mentally and physically tired out after a long day or a resting bitch face, it’s their distrust for people and people’s intentions. They’ve met significantly more bad people than good. And if they’re good, what are they getting out of it and what do they want? It’s unrealistic to Erin. 

While Erin is known for being grumpy and irritated, it stems from their depression. They struggle to find enjoyment between work and bills, they constantly wonder why they’re unwanted, they feel guilty, and they have no interest in doing things outside of work as their hand injury stopped them from playing the one thing they enjoyed - their guitar. 

Erin would like to work with charities that offer assistance to those transitioning out of foster care, but that alongside singing is another pipe dream, as they envision their life struggling to pay rent forever more. 

[hyperfashionist]

Portable Pockets, Part 4 of 4

Finally, let’s look at my minimal first aid kit.

On the top left is a set of 4 x 75mg aspirin, with the dosage and expiry date written on in Sharpie. Normally I’d carry the 300mg ones, but I couldn’t get them and this was all we had. These are for people who seem to be having a heart attack to chew on. First aiders are not normally authorized to give out medicines, but I carry these for people I know that carry aspirin for themselves. I am not sure what the current position is on first aiders giving aspirin to casualties, so don’t carry these just because I do. In fact, just get trained yourself, and then you’ll know.

Next, a Vent Aid. Last time I got trained, mouth to mouth was minimized to the couple of breaths between chest compressions, because chest compressions will squadge some air into the lungs anyway, and if a person isn’t breathing they’ll soon need chest compressions anyway. However, I need to do my refresher soon. So instead of paying attention to me, go get qualified.

Next, a pair of fashion tapes in a plastic bag. This is in case the straps of my mask break: I can temporarily stick it to my face until I get back to my bag where I keep my spare mask. A portable pocket doesn’t have room for a mask, and it also isn’t meant to hold the kitchen sink, but only just enough till I can get back to my desk.

Next, a pair of nitrile gloves squadged into a plastic pouch.

And that’s about it for the portable pocket system! The phone goes into the front pocket upside down, with the wired headphone jack plugged in. I can then take it out and use it to tap in and out of public transit or pay for stuff, and leave it in to listen to music or pink noise as I work or travel.

I have several other pouches, most of them woven single-pocket pouches in enough colours and patterns to match most outfits. Because the set of items stays the same, there’s less risk of forgetting an item when transferring between pouches.

A single pocket pouch can be awkward to pull the phone in and out of around the other items. It helps to stick in a piece of cardboard as a divider. I’ve also used the cardboard envelope that the Flare ear inserts came in.

For air travel, when more space is needed for passports and documents, I have one of those nylon sling pouches that looks like a stomach and is supposed to be big enough for an iPad. But I haven’t tested it yet.

As an aside, I am overjoyed with this CNC Costume National pouch, which I paid £18 for. About once a year I find something INCREDIBLE at TK Maxx at a dirt cheap price, that I use or wear all the time. This is that item for 2022. I rejoice in it.

[I would link to the previous post and first post, but it turns out that you can’t paste text after copying it.]

[adoremattsturns]

how did fratboy!chris and shy!reader meet?

warnings: blood, slight crying

not completely proofread!!

it was a warm friday evening. you enjoyed studying on the bleachers by the lacrosse field since it had an amazing view of the sunset. you were studying for one of your important tests for your nursing major. chris was also there, playing a non-serious game of lacrosse with nate and matt.

they were usually there every friday but the never bothered you. every now and then the small white ball would land beside you, you never dared to touch it for some reason. you thought you would just embarrass yourself trying to throw it or something. they were always laughing and chris seemed somewhat mean. but who knows. all you knew was that you were never going to talk to him.

today was different. you were sitting on the bleachers typing and writing on baby pink sticky notes. your wired headphones playing "Glory of the Snow" by Clairo. you kept getting unimportant messages from your study group chat, so you went on dnd.

you couldn't hear it but matt shouted, "watch out!" as the little ball flew towards you. it didn't land beside you, in fact it hit you right in the nose. all three boys winced as it hit you, since it slipped from the net of chris's lacrosse stick. he was fooling around, of course when he was trying to hit matt, but he was facing the same direction as you.

the hit stung which made your eyes water. you were not one to cry for everything, but this actually hurt. chris an up to you to see if you were okay, seeing you slightly crying made him feel really bad. nervous, he asked "hey, are you good?" slightly bending his knees to see your face. "uhm, y-yeah. all good." you murmured. you didn't even realize but you were beginning to bleed. both of you never knew a small ball could hurt that bad.

you noticed a small drop of blood dripping on your sticky note, now feeling embarrassed. your cheeks flushed a light pink when he asked, "do you need any help?" he said, just now realizing you were bleeding when you looked up at him. "o-oh my- okay come on. matt! nate!" he called them. they dropped their things and ran up to you and chris. "oh- are you okay?" nate asked first when he saw you. "yes, thank you." you replied quickly since you didn't want the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. chris quietly chuckled at that. "guys clean up her stuff, i'm taking this one to the bathroom." matt and nate nodded as chris helped you up and took you to the restroom. as you guys went, he finally realized that he couldn't go into the woman's bathroom. "well, shit." he chuckled which make you smile.

"i mean, no one's gonna know I went in right? i mean unless another girls in there, obviously." he huffed, "okay whatever let's go." he said gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside. you were completely embarrassed by what's happening right now. "can you sit on the counter?" he asked, you nodded as you jumped and used your arms to sit up. "im sorry we had to meet this way, what's your name?" he asked.

"y/n" you replied shyly. "y/n..." he tried it out on his tongue, "I like it. my names chris." he said wetting paper towels and dabbing them on your face. you flinched and squeezed your eyes shut. "i know. i forgot to say this was gonna hurt, sorry." he continued, gently holding your jaw and tapping/wiping the paper on your face.

once you were all cleaned up, there was a purple mark on the bridge of your nose. you looked in the mirror, "oh god..." you groaned. "its not that bad. im sure makeup could cover it...... uhh, right?" you chuckled slightly. "yeah, lots of it" you said feeling slightly bolder.

suddenly, a girl in your class named molly entered the restroom, she let out a slight gasp when she saw chris. she then saw you, giving a confused look. "w-what's going on here?" she asked. "my friend here got hurt, i'm helping her. obviously." "we're friends now?" you quietly asked. someone has never just "claimed" you to be their friend. "yes. now come on friend. have a good day ma'am" he said to molly as he placed a hand on your lower back, pushing you out of the restroom.

you thanked chris for his help, excessively. "don't worry about it, friend." he chuckled as he took your backpack from matt and gave it to you. "thank you." you smiled, blushing for some odd reason.

chris felt attracted to you. but not because you were pretty, because you seemed so…. pure. it seemed like you were an innocent, smart, and responsible woman. everything he was the opposite of. you just thought he was funny and pretty good looking.

he asked for your number, scratching the back of his neck embarrassed. you made a small huffed laugh and he gave you his phone. you typed your number and called yourself. giving him his phone back. you both said goodbye and went separate ways.

you had made a new found “friend” from one simple mistake.

hiii! here is the introduction for these two and i actually really like itt. i hope to get to write more before i start school again!! love you guys and thank you for following!! 🫶🏼

© adoremattsturns

[firespirited]

for me there’s an important layer missing to these brain/body discussions: the idea that there are rational signals like hunger or pain that can’t be controlled but can be denied at a cost and irrational signals: emotions that can be controlled AND denied and ignored until ready.

A big part of my neurodivergence, long before I ever had a name for it was trying to decipher those signals then stupidly trying to stick them in rational vs irrational boxes to know if it was ok to deny or ‘indulge’ them.

Here’s a simple one; everybody knows the angry inner raccoon means you’re hungry but not what it means that, because anger is unacceptable and irrational, you’ve learned to reject hunger which is a very valid and important human signal.  Now what if fixing hunger is tied to a place with loud noises, bright lights, odd textures and lots of social value judgements. You’re juggling six different conflicting signals to do a thing that should be as simple as “stick food in mouth, end hunger-pangs” and you don’t know how much is “real” fear because fear feels the same.

People whose brains are wired to process emotions and sensations on equal levels cannot exist as rational brains on a higher plane. We feel the sensory intensely and often experience emotion viscerally: small rejection can feel like a gut punch aching for days and we vibrate with excitement and flutter and bubble with happiness. It’s part of the reason talking with my hands and body came so naturally: there is no brain body divide, thoughts are more than words can express. (I mean there is a me quite separate from whatever gremlins are running my brain and body but that’s kind of a different thing).

Part of healing is to accept that mind over matter is bollocks and that emotional and physical health aren’t two separate beasts to be tamed in different ways. We must attend to the angry hunger and to the angry distress with the ritual of acceptance and food then a ritual of acceptance and soothing, and yeah I might have to schedule those both on a daily checklist because I’m so used to not listening so it’s all a blurry upsetting signal.

Whether you decide to call it an anger walk and soothing treat or an angry music then calming fiction session or buzzwords like mindfulness is your business. I find it deeply infantilizing that we’re not allowed to tend to emotional and physical distress in a whole bunch of areas but others are priorities. The romantic idea that some self care/protection things have to be spontaneous and others scheduled or else that’s weird. And of course the policing of what kind of self care and boundaries are acceptable.

Not coming to table to eat or switching to ready made meals are big social taboos but it really helps some folks. Bono gets ragged on for wearing sunglasses even after he explained he needs them. I’d rather someone have a plush toy, not brush their teeth but use gum and wear headphones and have scheduled makeout sessions than need to drink to numb the world: only one is socially acceptable.

What we’re dealing with is conflicting accessibility needs: it’s not shameful to not do certain self care but some of it may help you feel better on a case by case basis, removed from stigma or social performance.

We’re so used to being shamed and having an arbritrary hierarchy of self care needs (to look pleasant to society) that we don’t want to hear about it ever again instead of thinking: those systems didn’t work so i’m going to rebuild my care needs from scratch, based on what works for me, not what is socially mandated. The mental distress socially-unacceptable haircut is a trope because it’s the first boundary/self care act you do just for you. Then you figure out how you want to do body and feelings maintenance based on what works for you at that level in that time.

Just thinking about that ADHD denialism post about how people think it's bad you need medication to function cuz your mind isn't affected by the body you're in. Tbh I feel like people separate their mind and body too much when your physical self's condition massively affects your mental and emotional self's state just as much as the other way around. Like yea, I have ADHD and mental trauma, but also if I don't eat enough or well enough, or take care of myself, or go outside, or take care of my physical appearance, that adds so much more stress and pain on my fragile ass mind lol.

And having to unlearn the idea that people are inherently happy while I was perpetually dissatisfied because it was baked into my existence instead of realising I had some control of myself despite my disadvantages had shifted how I approach my life nowadays and why I try to take better care of my physical self as well as my emotional self.

[waywardnerd67]

Replay Life Chap 13 - ScoobyNatural

Title: Replay Life - S13E16 Scoobynatural Summary: Jensen invites Jared and Misha’s families to his house to surprise (Y/N) for her birthday. They do an outdoor screening of one of the best episodes of Supernatural ever. Main Characters: Jensen Ackles, Reader Other Characters: Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Padalecki Family, Collins Family Pairing: None Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 3892 A/N:

Check Out: Replay Life Masterlist

Three weeks had gone by since Jensen had sat across from Gen Padalecki asking her to help him ask (Y/N) out. Twenty-one days filled with conventions and meetings keeping him from being in Austin. (Y/N) was equally busy as she began to take on clients for freelance editing and ghostwriting. On the rare occasion Jensen was home, she would be working until the early morning hours on a deadline. The only silver lining was seeing the woman he loved most genuinely happy.

Jensen was leaning against the doorframe of (Y/N)’s office watching her in her element. Hair up in a messy bun with a red pen sticking out of it. Large wireless headphones covered her ears knowing her favorite writing playlist was blaring into them. One of his ‘borrowed’ Dean flannels draped over her shoulders and a pair of yoga pants covering her legs like a second skin. Her glasses were hanging off the edge of her nose as her eyes scrolled across her screen. Her delicate fingers flowing over her keyboard as waves of words appeared on the screen.

Even half crazed, sleep deprived, caffeine wired, (Y/N) was still the most beautiful woman in the world. Jensen waited until her fingers stopped dancing on the keys and she leaned back in her chair to speak.

“How’s it going, pretty girl?”

She spun her chair around, letting out a long yawn, “Almost finished… a couple thousand words more and then I’ll officially be on my birthday hiatus.”

“That’s amazing. Is there anything I can do for you or get you?” Her smile made his knees wobble.

“Could you sit here with me and make sure I don’t pass out from exhaustion?”

Jensen nodded, taking his spot on the floor beside her desk. She turned off her headphones and music began to fill the room. He chuckled before singing along to her favorite Zeppelin song. He watched her shoulders relax and her eyes focused on the screen once more. For the next hour or so, Jensen sat there watching her work and singing along to her playlist. When she finally turned off her computer, he stood and scooped her up into his arms.

Her eyes were already half closed as he carried her upstairs to her room. He had made it to the top landing when she mumbled wanting to sleep next to him. He continued to his room where she was fast asleep when he laid her on the bed. Jensen slid beneath the cover behind her and slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close to him.

“(Y/N)?” He asked softly, “Pretty girl?”

Her breathing was steady and calm as exhaustion had its hold on her. He moved a few strands of her from her face before pressing his lips against her shoulder. Feeling her sigh contently, his heart began to thump wildly in his chest as a whispered confession began to flow from his lips.

“I love you. I know you know that, but I mean it differently. I’m in love with you and have been for a long time. When I think of my life after fame, after movies and tv all I can think about is you. Coming home to you, spending our golden years together, making love to you whenever possible.”

Jensen felt her move slightly and shut his mouth tightly. After several agonizing minutes, he felt her breathing settle back into a steady rhythm again.

“I’m scared shitless to cross this line with you. I’m scared I’m not good enough for you. I’m scared you will get fed up with my crazy life and I’ll lose you forever. I’ll lose the woman I love and my best friend. It’s getting harder being around you and not acting on my feelings. I want to kiss you silly. I want to yell out from the rooftops that you're mine and I’m yours. I want to wine and dine you or chill with you on the couch.”

He nuzzled his nose into her hair as a wayward tear fell down his cheek, “I want to be your entire world because you’re mine. You’re the light in the darkness. You’re everything that is good when life is a shitshow. I love you so much my heart hurts. And I’m too much of a coward to tell you this when you're awake.”

He froze when (Y/N) turned towards him. His heart was hammering against his chest, fearing she had finally heard every single word of his love confession. However, what happened next was way worse than her hearing his confession.

(Y/N)’s leg slipped between his and her thigh rested firmly against his semi-hard length. Jensen sucked in a breath as her arm slipped around his waist and her face nuzzled into his chest. A soft moan breathed through her lips as her hips pushed forward against him. He grunted uncomfortably as he tried to reel back the desire running rampant in his body.

Looking down at her peaceful face and relaxed body cradled against his, Jensen managed to wrap his arms around her and adjust to a more comfortable position. When he finally fell asleep his dreams were filled with him and (Y/N) in many different compromising positions.

After that night, (Y/N) never mentioned hearing his confession. She had only commented on it being the best night of sleep she had ever gotten. The next few days were filled with (Y/N) hanging out with her group of girlfriends for her birthday which he was thankful for as he planned a surprise birthday party for her. They had planned on watching the next episode in their rewatch which was one of the best episodes in his opinion of Supernatural. It was also one of the only episodes that Jared and Misha’s kids could watch. Jensen reached out to them both about bringing their families to his house that Saturday for a Scoobynatural watch party for (Y/N)’s birthday.

Jensen was running around making sure everything was set up in the backyard for the watch party. He had his manager reach out to (Y/N)’s friends about coming over and Kit had volunteered to keep her busy before the big reveal. He had warned Jared and Misha about them before they arrived. He was pleasantly surprised when they arrived they had all kept their cool and mingled among their families. He had decided to trust Kit with his number and she texted him when they were pulling into the driveway.

“She’s here! Everyone hide!” He called out.

Watching as (Y/N) led Kit out through their back door hearing her talk about their house, “Jensen takes a lot of pride in keeping up with the yard work whenever he’s home. Personally, I just love watching him…”

“SURPRISE!” Everyone yelled.

Jensen cursed all of them wanting to hear what (Y/N) was about to say. However, seeing the shock registering on her face as she looked at everyone around her. The Padaleckis’, The Collins’ and her best friends surrounded her with love and birthday wishes. Jensen could see her wiping tears from her eyes in between hugging everyone. A soft nudge came from his right side as he saw Gen standing beside him.

“You did good. Now man up and ask her tonight once everyone is gone.”

She didn’t stay around for a response as she walked over to (Y/N) with her arms wide open. He knew Gen was right and this was the perfect opportunity for him to ask her. Something deep down was keeping him anchored in his spot as her best friend and nothing more. He shook his head just in time to see (Y/N) rushing over to him and jumping into his arms.

“Jay, this is amazing! I… I don’t know how to thank you for all of this.”

“No need to thank me.” He hugged her tightly whispering, “Happy birthday, pretty girl.”

(Y/N) leaned back slightly before pressing his lips to his cheek, “Thank you, handsome.”

Jensen and Jared manned the grill while Gen and Kit were making drinks for everyone. Misha, (Y/N) and a few of the other girls were running around with the kids. Jensen took a moment to take in everything around him. (Y/N) was carrying Odette as West and Tom ran circles around her. Her laughter filled the air and cut through a layer of the tether keeping him from crossing the invisible line between them.

“When are you going to lock that down?” Jared asked, bringing Jensen back to reality.

“It’s complicated.”

Jared chuckled, “To quote Dean Winchester, ‘Game of Thrones is complicated. Shower sex that's complicated. This ain't complicated. You're problem ain't asking her, it's you.’ So, what’s stopping you? Really?”

Jensen couldn’t help but laugh at him quoting his character, but it quickly faded knowing Jared was right. Acknowledging that he was keeping himself back from having happiness pissed him off.

“I don’t know. I want everything to be perfect for her because she has had some shitty, god awful times in her life. I want to be with her so badly it hurts.”

“Okay. Again, what’s stopping you?”

Jensen bit his lip flipping the burgers as Misha joined their conversation, “You guys look like you’re about to punch one another. What’s going on?”

“I asked Ackles when he was going to finally have the balls to lock down a date with (Y/N).”

Jensen was going to glare at him, but Misha beat him to it, “That’s a big risk for him to take. Not that I’m not for it because I am.”

Misha looked over at him, his narrowed eyes softening, “It’s hard risking a friendship that has been in your life since forever. The ‘what ifs’ filling your mind with doubt and convincing you that it’s better for everyone that you keep going as you’ve always done.”

He was stunned to hear his knotted feelings laid out so perfectly by his friend, “How did you…”

“Been there. Done that.” Misha squeezed his shoulder, “My honest and humble opinion if you want it.”

Jensen nodded.

“I believe the risk will be worth it in the end. (Y/N) loves you and more than just her best friend. You two are meant to be and I cannot wait to be witness to your love blossoming for one another.”

He turned to Misha and pulled him into a hug, “Thanks Mish.”

“Anytime.” He held him tightly for a moment, “Now hurry up with the food or the kids will start to riot.”

The three of them laughed and soon everyone was grabbing their plates to head towards the inflatable projector screen. Jensen escorted (Y/N) to her special birthday throne where her friends were all sitting. Once everyone was settled, he started the episode.

Sam is reading a book in the Bunker. Dean walks into the room behind him.

“Hey, what are you doin'?”

Sam glances up, “Uh, research.”

“Okay.”

Sam continues looking through the book, “You know, it's the strangest thing. I-I can't find anything on a-a cursed object that actually physically attacks people.”

“Dude, it's over. All right? Be like Elsa -- Let it go.” Dean smirks.

Sam turns around in his chair and looks at Dean incredulously, “Be like Elsa?”

Dean nodded,  “Ah? Right? Come here. I need to show you something. It's important. Come on.”

Sam and Dean enter a dark room, “Behold,” Dean turns on the light “... the Dean-cave. Or Fortress of Dean-a-tude. Just -- still trying to figure that one out.”

Dean walks Sam through the room, pointing out all the 'amenities'.

“We got Foosball. We've got jukebox -- all vinyl, obviously. Double La-Z-Boy recliners. And, of course, the bar. Still a work-in-progress. It's gonna have a kegger because...Well, it's gonna. And finally... the pièce de résistance.”

Dean points a remote at the television from the pawn shop.

Sam holds up his hand, “Okay, hold on, hold on. When did you have time to do all this?”

“When it's important, you make time, Sammy.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “Wh–”

“Let's give this bad boy a test run, huh?” Dean cuts off Sam.

♪ Dun, dun ♪

♪ Dun... ♪

Dean turns the television on. Purple sparks emanate from it and there is a purple swirling pattern on the screen.

♪ Dun, Na! ♪

“What the hell?” Sam asked, staring at the TV.

A purple beam shoots out of the screen, engulfing them. The boys disappear, and the purple beam drops them into the woods at night, in an alternate, cartoon universe.

Jensen was standing in the back behind everyone chuckling. All the kids were on a large blanket in front with their eyes locked onto the screen. Misha sat with his daughter, Maison, on one of the large Lovesacs. Jared and Gen were curled up on another Lovesac giggling like teenagers. As Jensen scanned over (Y/N)’s friends he noticed she was not sitting in her favorite chair.

Suddenly, he felt someone from behind him slip their arms around him. Seeing (Y/N)’s hands clasp in front of him, he let out a sigh of relief. Her head rested in between his shoulder blades.

“Why aren’t you sitting with your friends?” He whispered.

(Y/N) lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulders. He instinctively pulled her into his side and hugged her.

“I’m missing one and I can’t enjoy the episode without him.”

She looked up at him smiling and without a second thought he kissed her. Her body relaxed against his and another tether snapped free allowing him a single positive thought. Things between them could actually work out.

“Lead the way, birthday girl.” He whispered, watching her eyes flutter open.  

Sam looked around, “Dean? What just…”

They look at each other simultaneously saying, “Aah! You're a cartoon! Aah! I'm a cartoon! Aah! I’m a cartoon! Aah! You’re a cartoon!”

“Uh, is -- is this...Okay, okay, okay. This is a dream. It's gotta be a –” Sam rambles.

Dean slaps Sam across the face, leaving a huge handprint on his face.

“Dude!” Sam shakes his head and his face goes back to normal.

“It's not a dream. Holy crap.”

Sam tried to make sense of what happened, “This is, uh... You saw that light. Did we just get sucked into the TV?”

“Or maybe this is an angel thing. Or -- or the Trickster.” Dean suggests.

Sam shakes his head, “No, he's dead.”

“Or is he?”

“Dean, what the hell?”

“I don't know, Sam. I…” Dean looks off, past Sam, “Whoa.”

The Impala is parked in a clearing nearby.

Sam looks curiously at the car, “Uh...How did the car get here?”

“I had the keys in my pocket? Or maybe -- Wait, seriously? That's what's bumping you about this? Okay, look, are we animated? Yes. Is it weird? Yes.”

“It's beyond weird.”

Dean continues, “Well, and "beyond weird" is kind of our thing. So whatever happened, we'll figure it out. This is a case, so let's work it.”

Sam asks, “How?”

Dean looks at his Baby, “Same as always. We drive.”

The Impala drives down the road as rock music plays.

(Y/N) was snuggled into Jensen side as everyone was chuckling at the episode. He felt her shiver and grabbed her blanket from the back of the chair. He covered her as she wrapped her around his waist, resting her head on his chest.

“Uh, uh, I'm Dean. My brother, Sam. Mind if we join you?”

The gang looks at Dean like he's crazy then Fred smiles, “Of course not! There's plenty of room. I'm Fred. This is Velma, Shaggy, Scooby, and –”

Dean slides into the booth, “Daphne.”

“Hmm?”

Dean grabs Daphne's hand and kisses it, “Enchanté.”

“Hmm.” She looks unphased by his gesture.

“Girlfriend missed a prime opportunity and all because of Fred.” (Y/N) scoffed.

“Not a Fred fan?” Jensen teased.

She sat up shaking her head, “Dean Winchester or Fred? I’m going with Dean all day, everyday and twice on Sundays. He’s my man.”

Jensen heard Jared cough and glanced over to see him mouthing, “I told you so.”

He rolled his eyes, continuing to watch the episode.

Sam is kneeling beside the bed, “Dean, this isn't a dummy. This is blood.”

He holds his hand up to show that it's covered in blood. He pulls the blanket off of Cousin Simple and there are several pools of blood around his body.

“He's -- he's dead. Like -- like, really, actually dead.”

Velma calls out, “Jinkies!”

“Jeepers!” Daphne follows with.

“Zoinks!” Shaggy shakily.

Scooby looks down at the body, “Ruh-roh!”

“Son of a-”

All the adults began to cough loudly to cover up the last word of Dean’s line. (Y/N)’s laughter filled the air as all the kids groaned.

When the next dead body was revealed, Shep climbed up to snuggle in between him and (Y/N). She wrapped her arms around him, never taking her eyes off the screen and Jensen from that point never took his eyes off her. He never thought about kids but suddenly the only image in his mind was (Y/N) barefoot and pregnant. He wanted that. Desperately.

“Great working with you, Velma.” Sam said, holding his hand out to her.

“You, too, Sam.” Velma grabs Sam and dips him into a kiss, “Mmm. Mwah. Those shoulders. Jinkies!

She raises her arms triumphantly as she leaves the room with the rest of the Scooby gang.

Dean huffs, “Shoulda known Velma was good to go. Gah! It's always the quiet ones.”

(Y/N) leaned in towards him careful not to wake Shep who fell asleep, “Yeah handsome, it’s the quiet one you have to go for.”

She chuckled, giving him a wink then turning her eyes back towards the screen. For a moment, panic struck Jensen that maybe he had been mistaken. Maybe, (Y/N) had heard everything he told her while she was sleeping. The thought made his stomach churn.

Quickly, he stood up as (Y/N) carried Shep inside, “For anyone who may have had too much wine, whiskey or beer, please feel free to crash here. We have plenty of room. Kiddos can sleep down in the rec room and there are guest’s rooms throughout the house.”

“Ackles, do you mind if the kids stay here…” Jared wiggled his eyebrows towards his wife who was carrying Odette inside with a sleepy Tom following her.

Jensen nodded, “Sure. Enjoy a kid free night.”

Jared hugged him, “Thank you. You’re the best.”

He could hear (Y/N) laughing as Jared rushed Gen to say goodnight to their kids. Jensen helped Misha with West and Maison putting them on the makeshift, couch cushion bed with the Padalecki kids.

“I’ll sleep down here with all of them so you don’t have to worry about it.” Misha patted his shoulder before heading towards the couch that still had cushions on it.

When Jensen walked upstairs, he found (Y/N)’s friends all in front of the TV with another bottle of wine passing between them.

He chuckled to himself before calling out to them, “Goodnight ladies.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“Feel free to come snuggle any time tonight.”

They all fell into a fit of giggles as he walked upstairs to his room chuckling to himself. Opening his door, he was surprised to find (Y/N) standing next to the bed staring down at her feet. His mind immediately went to something being wrong and closed the distance between them with two long strides.

“Is everything okay?” He lifted her chin so he could see her eyes.

Jensen sucked in a breath seeing her normally bright eyes darkened. The next thing he knew, her lips were smashed against his and her hands were up in his hair. His body reacted without paying any attention to his mind. His hands slipped beneath her legs and lifted them to wrap around his waist. Turning them around, Jensen sat on the bed while (Y/N) pushed his plaid shirt down his arms. Tossing it to the side his hands cupped either side of her face and his mind finally pierced through the desire flooding it.

“Pretty girl…” She kissed him again before he pulled away, “We can’t…”

Her body froze and guilt chilled his body to his bones. Her wide eyes stared into his eyes and she scrambled off his lap.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I… I…” Tears began streaming down her face, “I must have dreamed it.”

He pulled her to stand between his legs, “Dream what?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I should go downstairs.”

She tried to step away from him, but Jensen pulled her back again this time wrapping his arms around her.

“Tell me, please.”

(Y/N)’s eyes were shining with fresh tears as her lip trembled. His heart began to crack knowing he was the reason she was crying.

“The other night, I thought I heard you… it doesn't matter Jensen. You obviously don’t want this and I must have been having a sleep deprivation dream.”

This time, he froze. She had heard him and now was his chance.

“Please… just tell me what you heard.” He begged, needing to know once and for all.

(Y/N) sighed averting her eyes to anywhere but on him, “I thought I heard you say that you loved me. That you were in love with me. That you wanted… wanted to…”

He gently pulled her chin towards him so their eyes could meet, “Make love to you.”

Her eyes widened, “S-So, I did hear you say that?”

“Yes.” He pulled her onto his lap again, wrapping his arms tightly around her, “I want nothing more than to make love to you. Right now, it’s taking every bit of my willpower to not give in to my body.”

The corner of her lips curled slightly as she chewed on her bottom lip, “Then what’s stopping you?”

Jensen pressed his head against hers gritting his teeth, “You’re too important to me to not do everything right. You deserve nothing less than perfect. Tonight is damn close to that, I don’t want our house to be filled with people the first time we make love. I don’t want to worry about one of the kids or your friends walking in.”

“Yeah, that could be awkward.” She chuckled, “But Jensen, if we keep waiting for the perfect moment then we might miss the chance of seeing how perfect we could be together. Between your schedule and my deadline schedule, we have to seize the moment we have. Risk the chance of traumatizing the kids or making my friends insanely jealous.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle, “So what are you saying, pretty girl?”

She stood from his lap, taking his hands and sliding them beneath her shirt. Her soft skin beneath his fingertips wiped out what little willpower he had remaining.

“I’m saying, I’m in love with you too. I’m saying, I want this. I want us. I’m asking you to please take away all the invisible scars left behind by every douchebag and asshole that broke my heart. I want to feel again and only you can make that possible.”

Without another word, Jensen jumped head first into oblivion of love and desire.

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[hornime]

voyeurant | kenma kozume x f!reader

he tentatively wrapped a palm around the shaft, shuddering at the contact, his eyelids fluttering shut. god, i’m such a pervert, thinking about her like this. she’d hate me if she knew i saw her like that, knew that i was touching myself thinking about her tits...

warnings: 18+, timeskip!kenma, kinda dubcon, kenma’s unintentionally pervy, male masturbation, poorly written video game content (i tried my best), mutual pining but u both are oblivious

w/c: 1.5k

a/n: yes, the title is a shitty pun of valorant. no, i will not be changing it. also this tiktok about timeskip kenma made me giggle so pls enjoy.

voyeurant: part one ↓ | part two | part three:

“fuck, i hate this map,” kenma grumbled into his headset.

your voiced chimed in his ears. “is it ascent?” you turned to see his face on your screen, pinched in annoyance. “ha, it is ascent. sucks for you.”

“which one are you on? haven?”

“you know it,” you chuckled. “your favorite.”

“i hate you.” he weighed his options, did he really want to play this game? the layout of the world made it irritatingly hard to strategize, and today’s losing streak was making him more agitated than usual. with a sign, he closed the application. “fuck this. i’m gonna go piss.”

“yeah, yeah, you’re such a big baby. and...” you released your mouse, throwing your hands up in triumph, “we just won. at this point, i’m gonna outrank you.” you were joking, of course. kenma wasn’t just a gamer, he was kodzuken, one of japan’s best pro-gamers, and you were just someone that played as a hobby. but it was always fun to tease.

“hmm,” he hummed. “i’m sure you will.” he turned his head to look directly at his webcam, smirking, “in your dreams.”

“ooh, catboy’s getting feisty!” he flinched at the nickname. “go pee so i can beat you at your best.”

he obliged, pulling his headphones off and looping them on the top of his chair. he casually raised his middle finger at you while smoothing out strands of his hair, prompting a series of profanities to escape your mouth, none of which he could hear. he chuckled playfully as you responded with two middle fingers of your own, before moving out of the camera to get to the bathroom.

you and kenma had met in an... interesting way, to say the least. after going moderately viral from lashing out at him for refusing to heal you in a game of overwatch—while he was streaming—the two of you reconciled over a twitter thread and exchanged gamer tags. since then, you’d struck up an easygoing friendship, characterized by almost nightly discord calls and occasional flirting. but we’re just friends, you often reminded yourself. and you were fine, well, mostly fine, with that.

tonight was like any other night: both you and him spending hours in a video chat with nothing better to do than mindlessly play games and bash each other. it was more than enough to strengthen your relationship but fell short of giving you the romantic tension you craved.

with kenma off in the bathroom, you, already bored, spun wildly in your chair. forgetting that your earbuds were still plugged in, the white wire caught on an opened can of coke sitting on your desk, spilling the sugary drink all over your keyboard and the front of your shirt. 

“shit!” you quickly scrambled for paper towels, but the still-connected wire yanked you backwards. in your haste for something to wipe the soda with, the fact that your camera remained on in the video call completely slipped your mind. making the split-second decision that the trip for a towel wasn’t worth it at this point, you quickly whipped off your shirt, dabbing the keys with the part that was still dry. since you were home, you’d gone braless, and your current predicament had you flashing your webcam.

now, kenma had seen a lot of things from your side of the call: he’d seen you get chewed out by your residential advisor for being too loud, you with two sticks of pocky poking out of your mouth like walrus tusks, and you doing random cosplay moves you’d seen on tiktok. what he wasn’t expecting to see, not even in his wildest dreams, was a screenful of your tits, slightly damp from the cola that had seeped through the fabric of your long-gone shirt.

he stopped in his tracks, still out of the frame of his camera, eyes wide and heart racing, desperately trying to calm down and prevent the gradual hardening of his cock in his pants. unable to deny his desires, he continued staring at your plump breasts on his computer, you completely unaware that he could see you.

you quickly threw your soaked top in the laundry basket before throwing on a random sweatshirt and trying to calm your frazzled nerves. you tentatively touched your keyboard, groaning internally when you fingers lightly stuck to the buttons. it’s gonna take forever to clean this, you mourned.

“hey,” kenma mumbled, reappearing on screen and shaking you out of your thoughts.

“hey.” you noticed his flushed expression. “are you okay? you look really red.”

“uh, yeah. i actually uh, i feel kinda sick. so i’m gonna, gonna go.”

“oh, okay.” why’s he acting so weird? “feel better!” you disconnected from the call with a huff, disappointment morphing your face into a pout. well, you thought, better get to cleaning.

kenma, on the other hand, was still, swallowing as the bulge in his boxers became agonizingly hard. though the only thing left on his screen was his reflection staring back at him, the luscious view of your bust was etched in his mind. his hands moved to free his cock, the tip an angry red and smearing pre-cum over the waistband of his underwear. 

he tentatively wrapped a palm around the shaft, shuddering at the contact, his eyelids fluttering shut. god, i’m such a pervert, thinking about her like this. she’d hate me if she knew i saw her like that, knew that i was touching myself thinking about her tits...

“fuck,” he whined, slowly stroking up and down. his thighs trembled as he fell back into his chair, mind wandering. he couldn’t stop himself, his thoughts become more and more lewd, fantasizing about how your breasts would bounce as he thrusted into you, how your thighs would wrap warmly around your head as he ate you out, how you’d cry out his name so prettily when he made you squirt around his fingers.

it was all too much, and as the circle he made with his fingers tightened as he reached his tip, he lurched forward, alarmed at how good everything felt just by thinking about you. i can’t cum, i can’t, the small part of his brain that wasn’t completely overtaken with pleasure tried to reason with him. there’s no going back if i—shit—if i cum. she’ll know, somehow, if i—if i cum, i—

the ecstasy kept clouding his judgement and his body worked against his mind as his hand pumped faster and faster while his conscience screamed to stop. his wrist wetly slapped the base of his cock, the sounds of both his hands and his moans getting too loud for comfort, but all he could think about was you. your eyes, your mouth, your chest, your legs, your ass, your pussy. god, he wanted to be in you so badly.

he couldn’t hold back, his insatiable need to cum overriding his senses, and the translucent liquid twitched out of his throbbing cock in spurts, drenching his fist and his balls. “fuck, fuck, fuck. i’m—fuck.”

he collapsed against the back of his chair, chest heaving with the sheer intensity of his orgasm. he combed a hand through his hair, the consequences of his actions now weighing heavily on his shoulders. i’m never gonna be able to look at her in the eyes again, he lamented. how am i ever gonna—damn it. 

the sudden ping of a notification had his eyes raising from the mess on his pants towards his computer screen. 

meanwhile, you were messaging kenma, a little off-put by his sudden radio silence but chalking it all up to his mysterious sickness.

[11:05 PM] you: hey ken! hope u feel better

[11:05 PM] you: if u get the chance u should check out what i added to our minecraft house. its perfect for sick victorian orphans like u

[12:14 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: why arent u responding

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: ok u got me ill tell u

[12:05 PM] you: its a hot tub

[12:05 PM] you: but with soup

[12:05 PM] you: but the soup is lava

[12:05 PM] you: genius right

[12:06 PM] you: anyway get some sleep and feel better <3

[12:06 PM] you: lmk if u wanna play animal crossing

[12:06 PM] you: actually no u should sleep. rest ur eyes and shit

[12:06 PM] you: no animal crossing for u!

[12:06 PM] you: sleep well so i can destroy ur ass in val tmrw

[12:06 PM] you: >:)

he sighed as he read your one-sided ramblings. he really liked you.

and he really wanted to fuck you. lucky for you, you wanted the exact same thing. 

if only kenma knew what you did on the other side of the screen, hands in your undies and his name on your lips...

>> part two

© property of hornime 2021. do not plagiarize any of my writing and do not repost/copy my writing onto any other sites.

[thesolferino]

True Calling

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ word count: 3.9k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: dream meets his favorite singer on an among us livestream.

“Dude, what could go wrong? Just do it.”

“What could go wrong?! Literally so many things, you ass.” 

Dream heard Sapnap sigh through the mic right into his headphones, the dim grey of his Discord background doing barely anything to illuminate his features as he stared at his open messages blankly.

“First of all, don’t.. speak to me like that, I am doing you a favour by sitting here and listening to you panic about stupid shit. Second of all, nothing big could go wrong. What, you’re a little awkward in the beginning, maybe, and that’s it.” Dream adjusted his headphones a little bit, Sapnap’s rant flowing into his ears but dissipating somewhere halfway to his brain, because, yes, things could go wrong and he can’t be proven otherwise.

“Did you forget that I’m a public figure? And that my fans are insane? I say one wrong thing and it’ll be memed and haunt me in my dreams. Did you forget that SHE’s a public figure? And that this is live? God…” he retorts back, listening to Sapnap helplessly sigh once again in response. He anxiously switches from his Discord to Twitter, then to YouTube, to Twitch and then back to Discord, frantically clicking around. In reality, he knows Sapnap is right, and it’s anxiety whispering into his ear that he’s gonna somehow fuck up, but maybe it’s simply easier to stay and argue with him into the night instead of actually responding to that message.

The stream is still going. Quackity’s voice speaks over Sapnap’s quiet breathing. “Damn, he’s still not responding. Um, let me try Tubbo, maybe?” 

Before he knows it, the opportunity to join the stream is slipping out of his fingers, and Dream isn’t sure if he’s happy about that or not. On one hand, he gets to meet one of his favorite artists whose album he’s played way too many times to count, and on the other, the chances of him embarrassing himself in front of that same artist and a hundred thousand other people are extremely high, and he’s not sure if he likes the odds of that.

“Man, I don’t know. You won’t listen to me, anyway. Don’t join if you don’t want to.” Dream hears the annoyed tinge in Sapnap’s voice, and that’s what pours the last bit of courage into his veins because the best way to do anything in life is to follow Sapnap’s advice after you’ve already irritated him to the point of defeat, and he murmurs a quick “bye” and hangs up before the other can even respond, typing a rapid “Sure, send me the VC link” back to Quackity. 

He hears a delighted exhale coming from his Twitch tab just as Quackity forwards him the link. “Okay, nevermind, we’ve got Dream! He’ll join in a second.” 

With that, he swiftly closes the Twitch tab and with an encouraging sip of water, he finally joins the Discord voice chat with the rest of the players. Your Discord image sticks out like a sore thumb to him despite being a super basic, Googleable picture of you that he’s probably seen a million times by now, and upon seeing it, reality slaps him right over the face and he realises that, oh shit, he actually joined.

“Hey everyone.” Dream speaks into the mic and a mix of excited voices greets him at the same time as he loads up the game. Your icon is missing the green halo. He stares at it, as if you’ll magically speak up if he stares long and hard enough. That, apparently, works.

Pokimane’s “Dream, hi!” seems to set something off in your brain, and you speak again.

“Oh, Dream?” the green halo appears, and Dream resists the urge to say something stupid or bite his hand or anything of the sort when you say his name. “Aren’t you the guy who listens to my music all the time?” you giggle.

Quackity laughs loudly in his usual fashion, and Dream feels his hands go cold as the Among Us loading page pops up. “Wh-huh?” 

“Yeah, you-you listen to my music a lot! Your fans always tag me under that… ‘Dream’s Spotify’ Twitter account, I remember you.” Dream swears his heart is about to jump out of his chest and start bouncing around on the floor because his ribs are way too restrictive for that type of movement, but he tries his best to play it cool and laughs lightheartedly.

“I do! I’m, like, your biggest fan.” he grins, as if you can see him, and you laugh in return.

“Yeah, man, you pay my rent. Thanks.” you say and a couple of people laugh while Dream inputs the code and his character finally pops up, immediately running around like the rest of the group. He runs around your purple character and hears you chuckle as you run around him too, but not for long, because the game starts and everyone mutes themselves. He audibly sighs, because he can afford to, considering he’s not streaming and nobody can hear the amount of courage this whole thing is taking him. 

A notification pops up on his screen - the Dream Team group chat seems to be talking. Must’ve already found some way to make fun of me, he thinks to himself as he huffs out a large breath and runs through cafeteria and weapons to do his tasks in navigation. Corpse is hot on his tail the whole time, and not to say he’s an untrustworthy guy, but Dream isn’t really looking forward to getting killed before even speaking to you properly, so he runs around, trying to find somebody to stick with so Corpse doesn’t shove a knife in his back while he’s doing a task. 

Thankfully, Karl emerges somewhere from the direction of storage right into communications where Dream was going, too. Just as Dream starts finishing download and Corpse and Karl line up behind him, his screen flashes bright red and white and the bold letters “Dead body reported” pop up. Everyone unmutes themselves and his eyes bore into your character, immediately.

“Alright, the body was in top left of the… uh, upper engine. I need everyone’s positions.” Rae immediately spoke.

“I was in electrical, I-I went through cafeteria to the upper engine with Poki, there was nobody there, we did our tasks, went down to lower engine, then Poki left with Toast, and I went to electrical and the body was reported.” Sykkuno said, and Pokimane confirmed with a hum of agreement.

“Dream?” Rae asked, and he spoke up.

“I never even went that way, I went through weapons to nav, and then to communications, and then the body was found. Corpse can vouch for me because he was following me the entire time and I kinda thought he was gonna kill me. And Karl saw me in communications, us three were all together when you… reported the body.” He rambled, trying to defend himself.

“Yeah, it’s true, he was with me the whole time.” Corpse supported.

“Karl, which way did you get to communications?” Toast asked.

“Uh, through storage.” Karl replied quickly.

“That’s funny, ‘cause I was in security, and I could swear I saw you walk past.” Toast said, and a couple of “ooh”s echo through the call.

“That makes no sense because even if I did go that way, I wouldn’t have time to get to communications and start doing my task with Dream and Corpse if I killed Ethan! And Rae, you-you saw me do my task in storage!” Karl loudly defended himself.

“...that… that’s true, yeah.” she said.

“If you ask me, Toast, you’re being real sus for lying about that.” Karl threw it back at Toast, who protested.

“Listen, I didn’t say you killed anybody, I just said I saw someone run past!” he claimed.

“Bretman and Y/N are being real quiet, though.” Corpse points out, and the green halo around your icon lights up once again.

“Oh shit, I didn’t realise I was muted. Sorry, guys.” you laughed. “Um, I was with… Quackity, in… what’s that shit on the right called?”

“O2.” Quackity quickly jumped in.

“Right, O2. I went to… top left, first, and I did my tasks there, and then to weapons and then to O2, and then the body was reported.”

“You were in top left?” Rae repeated.

“Yeah.”

“And was there anyone with you?”

“Um… no? I was alone, and then I saw Quackity in top right, and then we went to, uh, O2 together.” you said and Corpse sighed loudly.

“That means she could’ve had the time to kill Ethan and run.” Toast points out.

“Hey! I didn’t kill anyone! I don’t even know how this game works…” you whined into the mic and Quackity laughed.

“Yeah, I dunno Y/N, you were dancing real suspiciously around me…” he said, causing you to defend yourself louder.

“Why would I kill anyone?! I don’t even know how to do that, I’m a nice person!”

“I don’t think she did it, guys.” Dream pipes up, tugging at the wire of his headphones absentmindedly.

“Shut up, you simp.” Quackity fires back instantly, making everyone in the call laugh, including Dream.

“Damn right, I’m a Y/N simp. She can do no wrong. I mean, look at that innocent face! She did nothing, I’m-I’m sure.” He argued, making you cover your mouth and giggle.

“Their face is literally the same as everyone’s! We’re all astronauts!” Rae protested, but Dream kept shaking his head.

“No, hers is more innocent.” he said. “Toast, why are you so set on accusing everyone, anyway?”

“Oh, you’re so not attacking Toast right now-”

“Guys, I think we should skip.” Sykkuno pipes up to calm the conversation, and everyone agrees, even though most of them mumble “sus” under their breath as soon as they mute their mics.

Dream’s tiny green astronaut stomps his way over to the left side immediately, changing paths this time and making his way into the Upper Engine, trying to finish his tasks in time and possibly find someone to accompany him so he at least doesn’t have to argue over his alibi. He had four tasks left, two of them in Upper Engine, so after that he was free to roam around wherever his heart desired. Just as he started doing one of them, he watched your purple character step in and run circles around him, earning you a quiet laugh that he didn’t know he uttered until he heard himself do it and silently scolded himself for getting that flustered at something so simple.

The two of you did your tasks together before going down to reactor. Just as Dream started doing one of his tasks, a dead body was reported again and he unmuted himself as Toast immediately started borderline yelling into his headphones. 

“Bretman just killed Sykkuno RIGHT in front of me. I literally watched him do it. He killed Sykkuno in COLD BLOOD.” he confidently claimed and Dream, quite uninterested, grabbed his bottle of water and lightly sipped on it, wiping beads of sweat resting right above his eyebrows with his forearm, blindly looking around the darkness, trying to get his eyes to adjust looking away from the computer screen. His eyes searched for the window - it was open, just enough to let a fresh breeze inside, but it never seemed to do that, letting humid air in with open arms like a welcome guest. Florida is fucking hell, he thinks, gulping down some more water.

“No, I didn’t! I seriously did not, he’s the one who killed him and is trying to frame me now. I swear to God, Toast…” Bretman shouted into his worn mic, trying to argue back. 

“Yeah, to be honest, Bretman, you were silent the whole time when Ethan died.” Rae reasoned, earning quite a lot of “ooh”s and causing little “voted” signs to appear next to Poki, Toast and Karl’s names as Bretman tried his best to fight back.

“I didn’t know I was muted the whole time! You know I’m bad at this! Why would I... you know what, nevermind! Vote me! Vote me! You’ll see when Toast kills you all, I don’t care anymore. I literally saw-”

Dream slumps further into his chair, sure that the foam would have a dent of his body shape imprinted even when he’s long gone from it, and unlocks his phone with a quiet sigh. He opens Discord, and wishes he hadn’t, because Sapnap and George are always on the front lines and ready to make fun of him at any chance possible. He types back a stupid joke, calling them losers, but before he can press send, a Twitter notification pops up on his phone that almost makes his painfully sweaty hands lose grip of the phone. 

“this is so boring” your message reads, from your official Twitter account. Dream blinks a few times, and looks up from his phone to observe his murky, empty room, eyes flashing from the window to the ripped chocolate bar wrapper that somehow made its way onto the floor to a cup of coffee from this afternoon. Did the humid air finally get to him? Hallucinations?

He clicks on the notification - it proves to not be a product of his imagination, after all. Three dots dance around on his screen cheerfully, but they suddenly stop. His ears tune in. Bretman is still defending his honor. Something else must’ve interrupted you. His shaky hands barely hit the right letters.

He takes a handful of screenshots amidst his euphoria, and forwards them to the group chat with no caption besides an emoji sticking its tongue out - he wants to tell them to suck his dick, or something along those lines, but your message remains a priority as he rushes back to the Twitter app to reply.

“Right” he manages to write without a typo. “They’re annoying”

Three dots immediately return to his screen like a happy memory, and he almost can’t believe you’re texting back so fast. George would probably humble him by saying it’s because you have nothing better to do, but what George doesn’t know can’t hurt him, Dream supposes, and clicks on your profile instinctively as he adjusts his headphones on one ear. By the time you finish typing your message, the group decided to vote out Bretman, who ended up not being an imposter.

The three dots disappear as quick as they came, and so does the anticipation that bubbled up in Dream’s throat as he sourly leaves to finish the rest of his tasks. The rest of the game stays as boring as it started, save for the giggles and hushed laughter that came from you at every few jokes he made - of which he made quite a lot, in a desperate attempt to make you laugh, at least a little bit. Of course, Quackity was there every step of the way to accidentally mention how Dream sounded a lot more hype and alive during this game than he does ever, but you win some, you lose some, eh?

In the next game you actually decided to set up proximity chat, so of course Dream followed you around everywhere, hot on your tail at all times - what else is he supposed to do, when the chance presented itself, really?

“Are you imposter?” His character obnoxiously ran circles around you as you did your wires task slowly and unsurely since this stream was your first time playing.

“No, but I wouldn’t tell you even if I was, dummy.” You replied, running around his own character briefly before running up to do the rest of your tasks, watching the green astronaut follow you close behind. 

“Why not?” Dream questioned, eyes following all your movements since he didn’t have anything better to do considering he finished all his tasks. 

“Do you not know how this game works?”

“Yeah, but you’d tell me, right? I wouldn’t… rat you out.” He heard a sigh coming through his headphones in response, and his grin widened just a little, watching your character walk away from him.

“I know you wouldn’t.” you replied. “I’ll tell you if I’m imposter, I guess.”

“You wouldn’t kill me, would you?” Dream spoke into his mic, reaching to fix it and realising the way his hand trembled a little, fully aware he was walking the line between flirty and obnoxious more than usual. He lowered his gaze just to see his keyboard reflect the light of the computer back to him - the sweat from his palms seemed to seep onto the keyboard. He refused to think about the mocking things his best friends would say if they found out how nervous he was just to talk to you. 

“No, of course not! I wouldn’t be able to kill you.” You chirped just as a dead body was discovered and the two of you were torn from the conversation. 

In the next one, his screen flashed an ominous black and red with the word “Impostor” and your purple character stood proudly next to his green one, and he snickered to himself, adjusting his headphones one more time (the more he did it, the more he was convinced it was one of those anxious habits of his).

Shifting in his chair, he started moving and couldn’t believe his eyes when he realised the two of you managed to lock yourselves in a room with Corpse and Sykkuno, accomplishing a double kill in barely the first two minutes of the game. The two of you vented while Dream muttered curses under his breath, breaking out in a sweat wondering if you’re going to get caught or not as you casually hummed to a random tune while faking tasks, hitting the notes in such an effortless way that it made Dream relax and get even more nervous at the same time. It didn’t take too long before the body was found, and you seemed to adapt to the game very quickly, as Dream just sat back most of the time and watched you stretch out a whole essay on why you and Dream could NOT have been imposters. 

“Why would they stick together the whole time? Couldn’t they get at least someone else to vouch for them?” Toast complained. 

“Girl, Dream wants some… alone time with Y/N, obviously.” Bretman said, despite being the one most sus of you in the first place, forcing laughter out of the whole lobby, Dream’s sticking out the most as his mood constantly swayed from finding the whole thing funny to being worried sick if you actually find him weird.

“Exactly! And we’re gonna have our alone time if we want to, thank you very much.” 

Well, Dream thinks, taking a stressed gulp of water from his bottle, at least we cleared that one up.

“I don’t think that sounded the way you wanted it to, Y/N.” Karl pipes up, making Quackity burst into another fit of loud laughter, and you immediately protested.

“It sounded exactly the way I wanted it to! Now, vote Rae or else.” 

When the meeting was over, he ran after you through cafeteria, grin splitting out on his face before he even spoke.

“You’re pretty…” his silence extended as he watched your character stare at his. “...pretty smart.”

You snorted. “Right. You’re pretty…” you extended your silence in return, mocking him. “...too.”

His heart jumps. “You forgot a word there.” he says as you stomp out to storage.

“I said what I said, Dreamy.” 

He swears this can’t be healthy for his blood pressure. In the corner of his eye, Discord notifications pop up like crazy. The boys must be watching your stream. His heart swells with both pride and dread, knowing he’s about to be called something along the lines of pretty Dreamy for the next two months.

“How do you know I’m pretty? You’ve never even seen my face.” Dream replies as heat creeps up like a spirit rising from soil, from the back of his neck, seeping into his ears and cheeks somewhat equally. His eyes dart to the window again. Of course it’s the stupid Florida weather that has him burning up, flustered. Maybe he should open another window.

“Is this an invitation to see it?” you say, a teasing tone clinging off your voice and he can practically hear you smiling. 

“No, I’m just saying! If you want to see it, though, that… that can be arranged.” he bites his lip as a physical attempt of holding back the smile that breaks out as he waits for your response, chest puffing in both nervousness and odd confidence.

“Can it? I mean, I don’t need to see it, I just know already, you have those… pretty boy vibes. But I wouldn’t…” you chuckle. “...be opposed to seeing it, for sure. Don’t count on me not to leak the pictures, though. I want the clout.”

“What do you MEAN you want the clout, you’re Y/N! You don’t need clout from a Minecraft YouTuber!” He argues back, a small wheeze escaping him mid sentence as you giggle and run around, with him following your every move.

“You keep my fucking lights on, man! Whenever your Spotify Twitter account thingy tweets that you’re listening to my stuff, the streams go up! I need your clout.” you say as you run into admin and snap Toast’s neck and run back out casually, as if nothing happened. 

“Yeah, that’s how me listening to your songs on repeat works.” he says and you let out some sort of irritated groan.

“Shut up, smartass.” Just as you say that, somebody seems to find the body and you’re pulled into a meeting, where Rae susses both of you immediately.

“No, because both of you are always together! And someone always spots you walking by the place where the bodies are found! At some point that can’t be a coincidence, right?” she accuses, practically yelling into the mic.

“Of course they’re always together, check- check fuckin’ Twitter! They’re trending on like three different spots already!” Quackity jumps in, loud as always, and the lobby gives off mixed reactions.

“What? We are?” Dream asks, and Quackity confirms with a “yeah, man! Check!” and so he complies, quickly pulling out his phone to check the trending tabs. Sure enough, among the politics and sports, “DREAM Y/N”, “PRETTY BOY” and “DREAM FACE” are crammed, sat at 7th, 14th and 18th place, respectfully. A satisfied grin breaks out on his face. At least they see it, too.

“This has to be the first time Dream has trended for something heterosexual.” Karl points out, earning loud laughter from Quackity and Bretman, less loud on your part.

“Exactly! We’re a power couple! Stay mad!” You shouted, with Dream supporting you in the background, although still shyly adjusting his headphones every few seconds, unable to comprehend that oh, this is actually happening.

Both of you get voted out during the next few minutes, but that really means nothing to Dream - they actually do him quite a favor, because the two of you get to excuse yourselves and he sees those three familiar dots dance on his screen again as he leans back into his chair with a dopey grin, playing with the strings of his sweatpants, waiting for your next and next and next message. 

He opens Discord on his computer to type one last message into the groupchat before turning it off for the night:

Dream (03:14): maybe Minecraft wasn’t my calling after all

Dream (03:14): can’t believe I just met my soulmate on Among Us

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Thunder In Our Hearts (Part 3)

Summary: The reader learns a little more about what happened when Soldier Boy was captured and the pair come to realize they shouldn’t judge each other in black and white terms. After Soldier Boy kills for the reader again, he’s more understanding of her and the reader starts to notice he might not be stuck in the past like she thought...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x reader

Word Count: 2,300ish

Warnings: language, nudity, violence, drug/abuse/sexual assault/torture mentions

A/N: Spoilers for Season 3 of The Boys in this one! Could some progress start being made here?…

_______

You gasped under the ice cold shower, Soldier Boy growling as you went wide eyed, his hands shoving you back under.

“You were right, you shouldn’t get high. Sober the fuck up and go to bed.” He shut the door on you, leaving you shivering and soaked to the bone on the floor. You forced your hand up to turn the stream warmer, closing your eyes in relief. The change of sudden body temperature though had your stomach churning and soon you were in front of the toilet, heaving your dinner up.

Finally, you felt well enough to move and left your wet clothes behind, opting for a towel around your body to get you back to your bedroom. 

“Y/N.” You jumped when you left the bathroom, Soldier Boy stepping out from his dark bedroom. You backed into yours, Soldier Boy stalking straight in, matching you step for step. “Do you honestly think I deserved what happened to me in Russia? Do you think I deserved to be locked back up in a box, allowed to never fucking die? Don’t start lying to me now, kid.”

You looked down at your feet, inhaling deeply. “If it were up to me, knowing what I do about what you’ve done, the innocent lives you’ve taken, the asshole you were raised to be? You deserved a few years. Maybe. But not forty. Forty is just someone just hurting you because they could. If you want to kill me for thinking you deserved some of it, that’s your choice.”

“I am not a violent asshole!” he shouted. He slammed his fist down, breaking the small table by the bed. 

“You kind of are,” you dared. He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Ben-”

“Don’t fucking Ben me. I am a motherfucking person! Don’t you say I deserved that shit!” He walked you back against the wall, hands balled into fists. “Say I didn’t deserve it. Say it!”

“The you today didn’t deserve it. But the guy from forty years ago? He sure as fuck did. If you hadn’t, can you honestly say you understand long term pain and suffering? Would you have let me live if you didn’t know what it was like to be hurt for no reason day after day after day?” He punched his fist straight through the wall by your head, body shaking. “You won’t scare me into changing my mind. Just get it over with.”

You closed your eyes when he reared back. When you opened them, he was gone and his bedroom door was shut, a light coming from underneath. Your knees buckled and you slid down the wall, inhaling sharply. But you made yourself get up and dressed, grabbing the computer and hiding away in your room, door locked.

Headphones in, you pressed play on a video from ‘97, Soldier Boy strapped to a table, wires and tubes sticking into his skin. He was drugged up on something, his head immobile but his eyes pleading.

“No, no, no,” he whispered, trying to break free but he was too weak. “Please not that today. Anything else. Please.”

A scientist in a biohazard suit approached him, a few others putting a bite guard in his mouth to keep it open.

“Subject test one liter nuclear waste. The subject has shown incredible sustainability against nuclear material in the past. Today we are testing a higher volume followed by a rapid expulsion of the material to test the subject’s stomach and esophagus for durability.”

“Oh my…” you trailed off, watching them pour a muddied liquid in his open mouth. You covered your mouth when they forced it out of him and into a durable container, Soldier Boy panting for air between screams. Some of it got on the floor and you watched wide eyed as it ate away through straight through the concrete.

A mask was placed over his mouth, Soldier Boy still shouting before he was out cold. 

He was right. 

No one deserved forty years of that. 

Not even him.

“Good morning.” You offered him a plate of eggs and bacon when he exited his bedroom the next day. He ignored it, taking the whiskey bottle and plopping down on the couch instead. “Ben.”

“Say that name again and I’ll cave your skull in.”

“Okay, you’re pissed at me still. I get it. But can you understand my point I was making?” He looked over his shoulder, eyes wide. 

“Because I did my job as a supe, as a hero, and saved people no matter the cost, I deserved that? Because maybe I thought I was a little better than some people, because of what I can do, I deserved that? I deserved to be poked and prodded like a fucking lab rat?” He was on his feet again and you didn’t want a repeat of last night. You met him halfway, his finger pointed at you when you did something surprising.

He froze, swallowing thickly.

“Why are you hugging me?” he said quietly.

“I just thought you could use a kind touch for once. I didn’t phrase it the right way last night. You didn’t deserve torture, Ben.”

“But I deserved punishment.”

“Yes and you got it. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just an asshole that’s stuck in the past.” The air was still. You dropped your arms, Ben, stroking his finger up and down your arm. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“Offer’s always on the table.” His finger continued to dance over your skin, pausing at a light bruise. “You’re young.”

“I’m thirty.”

“You’re young,” he said again, thumbing over the bruise. “I’m eighty years older than you and somehow we wound up living the same story. Children that disappoint their fathers by simply existing.”

“You don’t look a day over forty,” you said. He smiled, nodding his head. “I’d be willing to stay if you changed.”

“I won’t change.” He dropped his hand, instead picking up his breakfast, eating it as he leaned against the counter. 

“I know. Part of me wishes you could.” He stopped chewing, pausing a beat. “I wish you weren’t afraid to talk to me either. No one’s going to come take your manhood away because you open up.”

“That’s pussy talk and seeing as how I don’t have one,” he said, giving you a look. “You’re out of luck. You get what you get.”

“Isn’t it funny? We can understand each other so much but we can’t stop making mountains out of molehills.” 

“Strong men and strong women don’t work out. He thinks she’s a bitch and she thinks he’s an asshole. Just the facts.” He shoveled the eggs into his mouth as you sat down at the table, taking a sip of coffee.

“Sometimes. But sometimes, when the man realizes how great it is to have a strong partner, you form a motherfucking power couple.”

“What the fuck is a power couple?” You smiled, Soldier Boy rolling his eyes. “Maybe for the cameras but behind the scenes? Then-”

“She’s normally pulling the strings. Why do the work when your puppet can do it for you?” He brought his lips together, narrowing his eyes. “I am not calling you my puppet, Soldier Boy.”

“Good cause that ain’t never happening.” He put the dish in the sink as you cleared your throat. He groaned, putting on a smile. “Y/N you look rather stunning today-”

“Wash it yourself or I won’t buy you a present.”

“Present? What kind of present?”

“Trust me. You’re gonna love it.”

“Dude.” You were wide eyed when Soldier Boy slid into the backseat, covered head to toe in blood. “How many-”

“A lot. We should probably go.” You didn’t need to be told twice, checking him in the backseat every so often. Once you hit the state line you relaxed, Soldier Boy having shimmied out of his bloody suit and now crawling into the front seat in his boxer briefs. “I gotta hand it to the future. The underwear is amazing. Tight but not too tight. Soft, supportive of the boys.”

“Boxer briefs are what you love about modern day society. Of course they are,” you said, shaking your head. You shoved more wet wipes at him from when you’d ducked in a gas station along the drive down. “Clean yourself up please before we get pulled over.”

“So why is everyone so obsessed with being clean nowadays?” He held up a wipe, using it to get some dried blood off his ear.

“Maybe it’s because everyone goes around committing bloody murders and needs to be able to clean up fast.” He gave you a bitch face, tossing the wipe in the back. “Is being clean being a pussy now too?”

“No. I’m trying to learn as my wonderful partner in crime keeps telling me I should do more of.” He flashed you a cocky smile before it disappeared. 

“Put on your seatbelt.” 

“Kiddo I’ve drunk bleach. I’m kind of indestructible.”

“Again, I don’t want us to get pulled over.” He groaned, making a show out of putting it on, grumpily staring ahead. “Thank you.”

“I’m hungry.” 

“You are literally a fucking child in a grown man’s body,” you laughed. “I don’t know why I’m still surprised.”

“Vought a burger,” he said, pointing out the window. He flashed you a smile and put on his puppy dog eyes. “I did just kill like twenty eight people for you. Not that I was counting.”

You pulled over, wide eyed as he closed his eyes. 

“Twenty eight? Four. There were four names on that list! You killed-”

“First off, every motherfucker there deserved it. They were doing things to a female soldier. I thought you might appreciate that.” You gripped the wheel tight and sighed. “She was blindfolded. I brought her outside, cut her loose and told her to run which she did. Then I set the place on fire as agreed.”

You tapped the wheel, Soldier Boy slumping down into his seat.

“I thought you’d be happy I saved someone’s life.” You hadn’t been expecting any of that when you stumbled upon the fact all four men you wanted dead were getting together. But you should have known they were up to no good. 

“Y/N? We should keep moving. Blood in the back?” 

You nodded, hoping he got there before things had gone truly horrible for that poor girl.

“You are up early,” said Soldier Boy the next day. He sat next to you on the back step, nudging your arm. “Were you that girl? I mean, were you in her place once upon a time?”

“Joined the service to get away from my father. Got turned into a party favor for fucking assholes instead.” You rested your crossed arms on your knees, placing your chin on top. “Do you think I’m weak?”

“You killed at least eight guards by yourself at that place they were holding us. No, I don’t think you’re weak.” 

“People in positions of power over me abused it, did what they wanted with me. I’m really surprised you don’t find me to be weak back then at least.”

“Are you trying to trick me into saying something asshole-ish again?” A small smile appeared on your face as you shook your head. “Facts are you’re weaker than a man. Just a fact. You made yourself strong though. You kept that fire. Most people see themselves as the victim. You’re the survivor. Big difference in my book.”

“I’m still less than you though because I’m weaker than you. It’s okay to say it, Soldier Boy.” He rested his palms flat against the porch, leaning back on them.

“I don’t fucking know anything anymore. Once upon a time, I thought men like that were real men. The hardass generals. The fighters. The soldiers. Now, shit, now maybe the guy wearing the fucking baby harness shit is a real man. I don’t know jack shit about this world. The more I learn, the more I don’t understand.”

“You are trying to learn,” you whispered. He didn’t look at you, gaze focused on the treeline. “Aren’t you?”

“The way I see it, you’re the only person on this planet that hasn’t fucked me over. I don’t agree with half the shit that comes out of your mouth but out of the two formally tortured, captive, betrayed people sitting here, one of us is a lot less fucked up than the other one.” 

“You’re not that fucked up,” you said. You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling his cheek nuzzle the top of your head for a split second. “I mean you are but we can fix that. Unlike that Homelander guy. He’s fucking nuts with his cult.”

“The guy who replaced me? I’ve met the pussy.” You raised your head when he started to chuckle. “I never mentioned who I want to kill, did I?”

“Homelander?” 

“Along with a few others. I know he’s strong. Killing him will require planning. I know our deal is to help find him but I’d appreciate the help.”

“Alright,” you said, holding out a hand, Soldier Boy shaking it. “Why do you want him dead? Cause he stole the spotlight and ruined your reputation?”

“That and…he’s my pathetic excuse for a son. I didn’t mention that, did I?”

______

A/N: Reader Part 4 here!

[shyficwriter]

Who's Tougher?

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Guardians find out that Reader maybe isn't Terran while playing with one of those labor pain/period cramp simulators. Inspired by that one episode of Lucifer where Lucifer got tased.

Author’s Note: Based off this dumb post I wrote earlier, because sometimes my dumber ideas are the funniest.

Part 2 here.

Word Count: 2,376 It had started with a bet.

Who was tougher? You or Peter?

Tired of hearing your bickering one day, and after having come across a video on the internet where a couple of guys were using a period cramp simulator, Rocket decided to whip one up with some spare parts he had lying around. Took him about 10 minutes, 15 if you count the time it took him to sort through his spare parts drawer.

You and Peter where sitting at the table with Kraglin when Rocket hopped up and slapped it on the table, interrupting your bickering.

"What's that?" Peter asked, his face one of confusion.

It looked almost like Peter's Zune, only bigger and instead of headphones it had four long wires coming out of it that were attached to thin disk-shaped objects.

"This is gonna settle your argument on who's tougher once and for all so I don't gotta hear your constant whining anymore." Rocket said.

"Hey! It's not constant!" you say, a bit offended, but also not looking forward to doing whatever Rocket was suggesting. "What is that even supposed to do?"

"Saw a video online where a couple of Terran-types were using electric pulses to simulate period cramps. It does that, more or less."

"More or less??" You cry uncertainly, "You want to electrocute us? Because that's what I'm hearing."

Peter laughs, "If you're scared you can just admit that I'm tougher." He leans back in his chair with a smug look that makes you want to smack him.

You glare at him. "I'm not scared. I'm just being cautious of accepting offers to let Rocket stick electrodes on us!"

Kraglin snickers from his side of the table. "Sound scared to me. If Yondu could trust him to wire his fin into his skull, I'm sure ya can trust him not to fry ya with that little thingy-ma-bob."

Yondu, having heard his name while walking by, stops by the table. "What's going on here?"

"Rocket wants to electrocute us!"

"Do not!" Rocket defends. "Well, not much... I just want to settle which one of them is really tougher so they'll quit whining about it."

Yondu shakes his head, chuckling. He looks at you. "So you're really gonna give in and tell Peter he's tougher cuz yer scared of a little shock?"

You glare at him. You knew he was only trying to razz you up, but you couldn't help it. "I'm not scared, I-"

Peter cuts you off. "Then prove it." He was bluffing, he didn't really want to try either. Who in their right mind would willingly let Rocket hook them up to an electric shock machine?? But his poker-face was good. Too good.

"Ugh. Fine. If to only wipe that smug grin off your dumb face." you say, rolling your eyes. "How's it work?"

Rocket grinned, as did the other two. "Ok, so you each get two of these electrodes," He held up the white disk, "and you stick them to your stomach, and then I'll take this," he held up the Zune-looking thing, "and turn it up until one of you taps out."

You begrudgingly took the electrodes from Rocket and he clarified his instructions by telling you both to place them below your belly-button. You retake your seats at Rocket's behest, him cockily saying that you 'might want to sit down for this'.

"Ready?" he smirked.

You looked at Peter's cocky grin and rolled your eyes. "Sure."

Rocket turned the dial. Nothing happened, so you assumed it had only just switched the device on, but you did see Peter give a little jolt.

You turned your head to him and laughed. "What you jumpy for, Mister Cocky? He hasn't started yet."

"Yes I did."

You looked back at Rocket, confused. "What?"

"I did start it. It's on level 1 now."

You look at Peter. He confirms it's on. "You don't feel anything?" he asks. You shake your head.

Rocket give you an odd look and says he's turning it up to 2.

Peter jerks again, softly grunting. "Hey, how high does this go?"

Rocket answers that it goes up to 10, and Peter makes a face that makes it obvious he's regretting his life choices.

"Oh, I can feel it now," you say, your mouth twitching upward in a grin. "It kinda tickles."

"That doesn't seem right?" Rocket switches it off. "Switch your leads, I want to make sure there's not a short in the wires."

You and Peter do what's asked. As soon as Rocket sees all the leads are stuck down properly he cranks it up to 2 without warning.

Peter jerks forward and grabs the table with a grunt. "Dude! What the fuck! A warning would be nice!"

You, however, only start softly giggling with a, "Hey!"

Rocket scratches his head, and turns the knob to 2.5.

Peter squeezes his eyes shut and tries, but fails, to sit back up straight. You also close your eyes, but it's because you've brought a hand to press on your forehead as you lean back in your chair, still giggling.

As soon as Rocket turns the knob to 3, Peter taps out.

Rocket turns the device off and looks at you suspiciously before glancing at Yondu and Kraglin who only shrug in response. "I don't get it? That's not supposed to happen?" Rocket says looking his new device over.

"I'll have a go." says Kraglin. "I bet Pete's just being a baby."

This earns a chuckle from Yondu and an annoyed outburst from Peter, who challenges Yondu to do it with Kraglin if they're both so tough.

Smirking, Yondu actually agrees. You and Peter hand over your leads and Yondu and Kraglin put them on.

Rocket repeats the same process. He starts them out at 1, and neither react. He goes up to 2, and Kraglin winces like Peter had. Up to 3, and Kraglin grunts and starts to grip the table while Yondu only acknowledges he can feel it pinching, but from the look on his face you can tell he's just putting on a tough act.

Rocket turns it up to 4 and Yondu exhales out his nose while looking up at the ceiling. At 6 Kraglin taps out and Rocket turns the device off.

Yondu laughs and tells Peter, "Guess everyone here is tougher than you, boy." to which Peter calls bullshit, says he wasn't ready, and demands to go again, this time against Yondu.

Peter doesn't make it past 4, and you laugh at him, prompting him to glare at you and say, "You wouldn't make it past 4 either!"

You call his bet, laughing, "Guess I'd need to go up against Yondu or Krags then, because we know you sure can't."

Before Peter can retort the rest of the team has come over to see what the fuss is about.

Rocket explains that you're seeing who's the toughest, and this promptly makes Mantis and Groot, in their innocence, want to try. However, this is immediately shot down by Gamora, who says that any game, or whatever it was that you were doing, where you willfully electrocute yourself, was stupid.

Drax, however, says he'll have a go, and Peter jumps on this, telling you, "There you go! Go up against Drax. If you can outlast him I'll finally say you're tougher than me."

"Quill." Yondu says in a warning tone, the implication clear that he didn't think anyone could beat the behemoth and that he knew that Peter egging you on like that would only result in you pushing yourself too hard to prove him wrong and getting hurt.

"Relax, old man!" Peter turned to you with a smug grin. "You can take it, right?" Peter is really pushing his luck, but you agree, taking back your leads from Yondu, and Rocket instructing Drax what to do as he takes Peter's chair.

Once you were both settled Rocket made sure you were ready before turning the device up to 1, then after a moment 2, and after another moment 3, where you had left off before.

Drax was just sitting there unfazed, but you were giggling again like before, prompting Drax to ask you what was so funny.

"It tickles!" you say, covering your face again and giggling harder once Rocket announced he was turning it up to 4.

"I bet you're faking it just to mess with us." Peter grumbled at you as Gamora gave him a strange look.

They heard Mantis giggling and looked over to see Mantis pulling her hand away from your arm, her antennae glowing. "Nope. Not lying. I don't sense any feelings of deception."

"Well, that doesn't make any sense, but here's 5." Rocket said, turning the dial.

You jerked in your seat, drawing one foot up into your chair as you tilted your head back laughing, still covering your face with your hands. "Ok! Ok! Wait a minute!" you squeak.

"Are you saying you give up?" Peter said with a smirk. "Guess that means you can't say you're tougher than me."

You flip him off. "No! I didn't say that!" This makes Yondu chuckle. Like most of the rest of the team he had started grinning at your reactions. You may be being stubborn, but he supposed you being tickled was better than you being in pain, though by all accounts it didn't make sense. He had done it himself, and it most definitely didn't tickle.

"Well it's up to 5, you couldn't get past 4, Pete." Kraglin corrected, letting Peter know that you technically had just proved you were tougher by being able to go to a higher setting than him.

"That's not the deal we made. Besides, how can it count if it only tickles? The higher settings are bound to hurt." He knew his logic was flawed, but he was stubborn too, he wasn't just going to hand you a victory.

Seeing as you weren't giving up yet, Rocket went ahead and dialed it up to 6.

"How you doing Drax?" Kraglin asked.

Drax just shrugged. "Fine. It's not the most pleasant feeling, but it's completely bearable."

They didn't ask how you were doing. It was pretty clear how you were doing. You hadn't quit giggling this whole time, much to Rocket's frustration because it just didn't make sense. It was, however, the only thing keeping Gamora from making Rocket stop. She knew Drax could take almost anything, so he'd be fine. You didn't seem to be in pain at all, so she assumed you must be safe.

Rocket dialed up to 7.

Drax nodded his head. "There it is. I can feel it more now." However, there wasn't an ounce of pain etched into his face. Dude obviously had one hell of a pain tolerance.

You were still curled in your chair. One hand covered your mouth while you giggled, the other rested on your knee. You tried to psyche yourself up. It was only a tickle. You weren't a baby. You got this, right?

The foot that had been in your chair then slammed to the floor as you lurched forward with a shriek of laughter, gripping the metal armrest of your chair as your other hand wrapped around your middle.

"How can that still tickle!? It's turned up to 8!" Rocket questioned in disbelief, holding up the device to Yondu as if to prove it.

"Eight!?" you cry, "You were supposed to tell us, you rabid raccoon!"

Drax began to laugh as well and in disbelief Peter said, "Drax? Seriously?!"

"It doesn't tickle," Drax clarified, his laughter dying into a light chuckle. "It's just very funny to watch the smaller Terran react."

You attempted to glare at Drax for referring to you as the "smaller Terran," but failed at it. You stomped your foot on the ground as you felt the tickle get somehow worse, and knew Rocket had turned it up again. "Rocket! Please!" you whined, making a few of the others laugh. Maybe you don't got this.

"That one was for calling me a raccoon, asshat." Rocket said with a grin, his previous frustration seemingly gone in favor of mischief.

You quickly reach for the little shit, but you recoil as he jumped out of reach, a smug grin on his face as he turned the dial to the last setting.

"And that one was 'cause I can."

Drax barely reacted, but you were suffering.

Shit. Shit. Nothing had ever tickled like this before. You don't got this. You still had a death grip on the arm of the chair and you were laughing so hard you couldn't sit up straight. Screw the bet, time for begging. "Ok! Ok!" you squeal. "Rock-Rocket! Ahaha! Ok! I'm sorry! Please! I can't- I give up!"

Rocket and Peter laughed triumphantly as you continued to plead for mercy. Yondu had pity on you and chuckled saying, "Alright, Rat. That's enou-"

He was cut off by a metallic squeal and a snap that made everyone jump. The sound was only followed by the sounds of your dying laughter as you caught your breath.

You threw your leads up on the table, having had ripped them off when you couldn't take it anymore (and after having finally realized that was an option.) You finally look up at Rocket, still giggly and gasping for breath as you say, "Youhoo suck! Eheheh... you- you little brat... haha... Jeez..." Your eyes were glowing a bright blue that slowly faded as you raised an eyebrow, noting how your companions expressions have changed to something resembling "WTF??"

"What's with the faces?" you ask, only to follow Mantis's eyes down to the arm of your chair, or rather, what used to be the arm of your chair.

You had snapped it, but that wasn't all. It was now twisted both outward & downward and the place you had been gripping it had been crushed to form to the inside of your fist as if it had been made of foam board.

You hear someone hesitantly say, "Ya ain't Terran... are ya?"

You look back up at your friends' expectant faces with a nervous grin, squinting and blushing as you rub the back of your head. "Well, aha... This is awkward..."

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 15

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Missy gives her a skeptical glance as Mulder knocks on the door for an eternity in a strange pattern. She shrugs, then startles when a cacophony of loud pops and clicks erupts from the other side of the door before it swings open to reveal a short man with a receding hairline and bushy sideburns.

“Mulder, ladies, please come in!” he greets warmly, stepping to the side.

Mulder touches his hand to Scully’s lower back, ushering her inside and waiting as Missy follows before he enters last. The short man holds out his hand to Missy and when she takes it, he brings her hand to his lips and kisses the tops of her fingers.

“Enchante, you must be Melissa,” he says suavely, and Missy gives her sister an amused smile. “Melvin Frohike, pleased to meet you,” he finishes, and Missy giggles.

“And you must be the enigmatic Dana Scully,” he says, turning to Scully and offering his hand.

She takes it, but tugs hers away at the first indication that he intends to do more than shake it. Frohike turns to Mulder with raised eyebrows and a knowing smirk.

“She’s hot,” he says matter-of-factly, and Scully looks at Mulder with big eyes, unsure whether he’ll find his friend’s flattery offensive.

“Yes, I’ve noticed. Put a damper on the Don Juan act would ya, Frohike? You’re going to scare them away.”

Frohike presses his hand to his chest in mock sincerity. “I aim only to properly welcome these beautiful women to our home, Mulder,” he defends, then holds up his hands in surrender. “Back to the kitchen I go,” he finishes, leaving the room.

A slender man with long blonde hair and glasses passes through, pausing when he realizes they have company.

“Mulder, hey man. I forgot you were coming by.”

He looks at Missy and Scully but doesn’t say anything.

“Langly, this is Dana, and her sister Melissa,” Mulder offers, and Langly waves, looking back and forth between them.

“So which one’s yours?” he asks, and Mulder mutters something under his breath.

“That would be me,” Scully answers, holding her hand up at her side. For the first time that she can recall, being referred to as belonging to a man doesn’t bother her.

“Cool,” he says, then turns away and sits down behind a computer.

Scully and Missy both look at Mulder expectantly, asking hundreds of questions with their eyes that they are too polite to speak aloud.

“I know, I know,” he says regretfully. “I told you, they grow on you.”

“Mulder, hello,” calls a new voice, and Scully turns to see a tall man in a suit with neatly coiffed brown hair and a matching goatee.

“Hello, ladies, I’m John Fitzgerald Byers,” he says, holding out his hand shaking each of theirs in turn. “I apologize for my friends’ behavior, they don’t get out much. Please, come in, make yourselves at home.”

As Byers leads them to the living room, Scully takes stock of what Mulder had referred to as their “lair.” There’s one large room that is sectioned off into a living area and a tech lab, the latter hosting several computers as well as hundreds of computer parts and boxes upon boxes with wires sticking out of them. There’s a kitchen just off the living room, and beyond that a long hallway that must lead to bedrooms. They sit down on a well-worn orange couch, Scully in the middle, while Byers takes an armchair next to the end of the couch where Missy is seated.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Byers asks, his eyes lingering on Missy for a beat.

“It’s margarita night!” Frohike calls from the kitchen, and Byers smiles meekly.

“We also have beer, or wine, if you don’t care for margaritas,” he offers demurely.

“I love margaritas,” Missy answers with a shrug, “so does Dana, right Sis?” she continues, giving Scully a little jab with her elbow, and Scully smiles and nods.

“Sure, margaritas sound great,” she says, and Byers looks visibly relieved.

“Please excuse me, I’ll be right back,” he says, standing with a slight bow.

After he has disappeared into the kitchen, Missy looks over at Scully and widens her eyes momentarily, then juts out her chin.

“Really?” Scully says with some measure of surprise, and Missy nods enthusiastically.

Mulder chuckles, and Scully looks at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” she asks accusingly.

“You two have some kind of secret language. You sure you aren’t twins?”

“I remember when Dana was born,” Missy says, “it was awful. We are definitely NOT twins.”

“Missy, you were two when I was born, there’s no way you remember that,” Scully says doubtfully, and Missy rolls her eyes.

“Believe what you will, Sis, but I distinctly recall you crying for hours and Bill Jr. peeing his pants in protest,” she says confidently.

“That does sound like Bill,” Scully concedes, and they both laugh.

“Why do I get the impression that Bill isn’t the favorite sibling?” Mulder asks, and Scully rests her hand on his knee.

“Just be glad he doesn’t live close enough to attend Sunday brunch tomorrow,” she says with a squeeze, “if you’re lucky, you won’t have to meet him for years.”

Mulder smirks at her with soft, affectionate eyes. “Years, huh?” he asks, and Scully smiles as heat rises to her cheeks, realizing what she’d implied.

“Here we are,” Byers says as he re-enters the room carrying a tray with four glasses on it. He sets the tray on the coffee table and passes a glass to each of the sisters and then to Mulder before he takes one himself and sits down.

“What should we drink to?” Missy asks, holding her glass up.

“How about, to new friends,” Byers offers, giving her a small smile.

“To new friends,” Missy repeats, and they clink their glasses together.

———

“A WHAT tail?” Missy asks, her tongue thick with tequila and her eyes glassy.

“A ves- vesigible? Vestibule tail?” Mulder attempts, closing one eye in concentration.

“Vestigial tail,” Scully corrects them, retaining her medical terminology even under the influence of four very strong margaritas.

“Yes, that was it,” Byers says, pointing at her triumphantly.

Frohike drank too much and retired to his bedroom an hour ago, while Langly is still stationed behind his computer, headphones on and seemingly immersed in some kind of first person shooter game. Byers has shed his suit jacket and cuffed his sleeves, his tie loosened around his neck. He long ago joined them on the orange couch where they are now stuffed like sardines, the sisters sandwiched in the middle with a man on each side.

“Caudal appendages are a normal part of fetal development,” Scully says, her head leaning against Mulder’s arm and their hands entwined in his lap. “The coccyx enlarges to contain the spinal fluid and then it shrinks as the child develops. Occasionally it doesn’t. It’s extremely rare, but it’s been known to happen.”

“But that’s not the point,” Mulder retorts, sticking his nose into her hair. “The tail was just how they made the connection, the freaky deaky part is that this guy could change his appearance to look like the women’s husbands so they’d have sex with him.”

“That’s disgusting,” Missy says with a frown, and Byers puts his hand on her upper back, rubbing comfortingly. She looks at him and smiles sweetly.

“I don’t buy that at all,” Scully says, shaking her head clumsily.

“The shapeshifting?” Mulder asks, assuming the answer.

“Well that too, but even just the idea that they didn’t know it wasn’t their husband. They would have known,” she says plainly, it being an obvious fact to her.

“He was physically identical to their husbands, there was no way to tell the difference,” Byers explains, looking at the side of Missy’s face while he talks.

“Well maybe he looked like them, but partnered sex is very routine based,” Scully continues, “if you’re with the same person for a long time, you develop somewhat of a cadence, an order of things, that there’s no way he could have replicated. So even if he was physically identical to the husbands, he would have kissed differently, touched them differently. They would have noticed the difference.”

Mulder sits back against the arm rest so he can see her face more clearly.

“So you’re telling me that if a man who looked exactly like me in every way, physically identical, tried to seduce you, you’d know it wasn’t me?”

Scully gives him an irritated look. “Yes.”

“How?” he asks incredulously.

“Because no one else kisses like you do,” she says at a lower register, hoping Missy and Byers aren’t listening.

Mulder looks past her to the other end of the couch and his eyebrows lift in surprise, his mouth curling into an amused smile. Scully turns to see what he’s smiling at and finds that Missy and Byers most definitely were not listening, because they currently have their tongues halfway down each other’s throats. Scully turns back to Mulder with an open-mouthed smile.

“Oh my god,” she gushes, leaning her forehead against his chest.

He wraps his arms around her back and gives her a squeeze.

“I was just about to say we should get outta here,” Mulder whispers against her ear, “but I’d hate to interrupt them. I think this is the most action Byers has gotten in years.”

She stifles her laugh in his T-shirt, then sits up to look at him.

“Is he a good guy?” she questions in a bit of sisterly concern.

“Oh, yes, the best,” Mulder says emphatically. “If it were either of the other two stooges down there I’d pry Missy off of him and transport her to safety, but Byers is good people.”

Scully nods in approval, sneaking another glance towards the lovebirds as Missy’s foot starts to press against her thigh; they seem to be orienting more horizontally by the second. She glances over at Langly, but he’s oblivious.

“Do you think it’s okay if we leave her here?” Mulder asks cautiously, unsure if it’s an obscene suggestion.

Scully looks at her sister again. “Missy, we’re leaving,” she says loudly, and Missy holds up her arm, flicking her wrist in a “go” motion. Scully turns back to Mulder. “She’s fine.”

Mulder lives closer to the Gunmen so they direct the cab driver there, quietly kissing in the backseat on the ten minute drive. She is pleasantly drunk, just this side of sloppy, and feeling particularly amorous after such a fun evening. Mulder stumbles through his front door ahead of her, swearing as he stubs his toe on the table. He feeds Priscilla as Scully removes her shoes and jacket, making her way to the couch. As soon as he sits down beside her, he leans over and presses his boozy lips against hers, the kiss firm and insistent and...weird.

“Mulder,” she says as he continues to plant strange kisses on her mouth, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, moving his pecking down her neck.

“You’re kissing me weird,” she says flatly, and he lifts his head to give her a shocked look.

“Motherfucker,” he says in a disappointed tone, and she shoves his shoulder.

“I told you I would know, jerk,” she says playfully, and he laughs.

“I guess you would,” he says, starting to kiss her more properly.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom?” she suggests, and he stands, holding his hand out to her.

She leads him into the bedroom, and as she approaches the bed he grabs her roughly from behind, clutching her to him. She gasps at the sudden contact, but it also excites her.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice gravelly.

She nods her head tersely, wanting to see where he’s going to take it.

He growls and sticks his hand down the front of her still-buttoned jeans, forcing his fingers under her panties until he meets with her vulva. Keeping his fingers still, he slips his other hand under her shirt, shoving it under the underwire on her bra and grasping her breast roughly. Her heart is racing but she doesn’t move.

“Unbutton your pants,” he says levelly, and the authoritative tone in his voice sends a little rush between her thighs. She does as he said, unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them off her hips while his hand is still tucked against her.

With more room to move, he slips his hand down further and drags his fingers lazily over her lips. She can feel herself growing wet, her clit aching to be touched. He suddenly removes both hands, grabbing the hem of her shirt and tugging it over her head before she’s even had time to lift her arms, her bra soon following it to the floor. He steps forward, pushing her along with him, and then touches her upper back.

“Bend over,” he says, and she does, her torso resting on the mattress while her legs dangle over the side.

She feels him tug her jeans off her legs, and then her panties, leaving her nude. She waits, her heart pounding in her ears nearly blocking out the jangle of his belt buckle and the slide of his zipper. She feels his naked skin press against hers, his erection stiff and hot against her lower back. He leans forward to put his mouth to her ear.

“Still okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says breathily.

She hears the crinkle of the condom wrapper and wriggles her hips in anticipation, nearly moaning when his hands touch her bare hips, tugging her towards him. She feels the slick press of his latex-covered cock against her entrance and bucks back towards him, earning a little chuckle. He pushes into her, each groaning with relief, and wastes no time finding a hard and fast pace, the slap of skin deafening in the quiet apartment. He changes his angle, and she feels his hand snake around her hip, his touch rough and firm and perfectly paired with the strike of his head against her cervix on each upstroke. It hurts just a little bit, but in the best kind of way, and she cries out when he finds just the right combination, begging him not to stop.

A stream of obscenities, foul and offensive remarks about how she feels and looks, what he’s doing to her, pour from his lips and she is concurrently shocked and delighted, finding herself at the crest as he asks her how much she likes it, and calls her some questionable names. She comes hard and suddenly, the obscenities stopping as he explodes inside of her, falling partially on top of her as he loses the strength to stand.

After he’s extricated himself from the bed and disposed of the condom, he pulls her on top of him and peppers her with tender little kisses and gentle strokes of his hands over her naked body, telling her how beautiful and perfect she is, bringing them back to equilibrium. She props her chin on his chest and looks up at him with a wry smile.

“What did you call me?” she asks, and he does a silly cartoonish cringe.

“I’m not totally sure, to be honest. Did I say something bad?” he asks with genuine concern.

“I’m not totally sure, to be honest,” she replies, “I was otherwise engaged.” She smiles at him so he knows she’s not mad. She looks over at the clock beside his bed. “We better go to sleep,” she says, her eyes already drooping. “We have to be at my mother’s at ten tomorrow.”

———

“So, what did you all do last night?” Maggie asks around the lunch table, and Dana chokes on her water while Missy clears her throat.

“I introduced Dana to some of my friends,” Mulder answers jovially, on his best ‘meet the parents’ behavior.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Maggie answers warmly. “Are you from the area, Fox?”

“It’s Mulder, Mom,” Dana corrects her, and he waves his hand dismissively.

“It’s okay, moms get a free pass,” he says, smiling at Maggie. “I grew up on Martha’s Vineyard.”

“Ooooo, fancy schmancy,” Charlie remarks with raised eyebrows, and Dana glares at him.

“Do you have any siblings?” Maggie continues.

This is a line of questioning he’s had to navigate since he was twelve, but for Dana it’s a first. She tightens her grip on his hand under the table.

“It’s okay,” he whispers to her before turning back to Maggie. “I had a younger sister, but she died when I was twelve.”

Scully understands that this is probably his stock answer, not wanting to get into the true story with each person he crosses paths with, and feels retroactively touched that he was honest with her from the start.

Maggie’s hand goes to her chest as though reaching for a rosary, her face a mask of pain. “Oh, Fox, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Scully, it was a long time ago.”

Sensing the need for a subject change, Charlie turns to his oldest sister. “What’s up with you, Missy? You’re looking a little rough today.”

She gives him a derisive smile. “Thanks, little brother, love you too. I just didn’t get much sleep, I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Charlie says knowingly, and Missy kicks him under the table.

After the dishes have been cleared, Maggie is pulling the trash bag out of the can when Mulder interjects. “Let me take that out for you, Mrs. Scully.”

She watches him with a soft smile as he goes out the back door, then turns to look at her youngest daughter, who is also watching after him with an affectionate expression.

“Dana,” she calls, and when she has her daughter’s attention, she gives her a beaming smile. They don’t need to say more than that; Dana smiles back with a little nod, and they both understand that she’s found something worth moving on to.

[fishnets-fingers]

Make some space, it's my time to shiiiine [surpirseeeee]

[“Consent,” her mother laughs. “Layla, your grandparents didn’t ask me for my consent..."] So? You could've ended it now? I understand we always think we'll never become like our parents, but we ultimately do. But still, you could put an end to it mama.

[She had sat down to start blocking off colours for her biggest commission yet, when her phone buzzed rhythmically with her mother’s picture taking up the screen] naurrrr, not her mum being a creative flow block.

[“Layla, watch your mouth. I’ll have you back home on the next flight. I blame Vasanth and Abi, they always let you do and say whatever and never control you.”] no she did not just say that

[“Do you remember that night? When we were living alone? When you found me in the kitchen with a kn-“ her mother stops, and Layla hears her shuffling and a door closing. “Do you remember how much you cried?”] ...oh no..oh no no no

[“No,” she says softly, slumping onto the swing. Feeling herself being pulled into a familiar feeling. ] my baby i've honestly never this seething rage for anyone but her mum.

[“I sacrificed so much for you. To make sure you had a better life. Do you think I wanted to do that? No. But I did to give you a ‘better life.’ Getting you married is my final duty and once that’s done I will be free. Have I ever discouraged you from your studies?”

“No.”] I know exactly where this is going and I'm not excited for it.

[“So listen to me when I tell you this. You will be getting married whenever and to whoever I say so. You will drop everything that the boy’s family does not like; that includes your studies. If they encourage your PhD pursuit, that’s great for you. If they want you to stay at home and take care of your children that is what you will do. Because your husband will be in control of you and then I will finally relax because you will have a better life.” She finishes. 

“But what if I don’t want to get married.”

Her mother laughs mockingly from the other end. “Why would you not want to get married? You know better than to have a boyfrie-“

Fuck me in the ass! She thinks. 

”Do you?” Her mother growls. 

“No.” She answers quickly. “Of course not. Where would I even find one? It’s not like you let me go out alone back home,” she forces a chuckle, hoping the joke is enough to distract her. 

“Good. You know better. I will not hesitate to poison your food if you bring shame to me.”

Layla remains quiet, eyes scanning the eggshell carpet as she draws patterns with her feet. 

“I’ve gotta go. I’m feeling sleepy. It’s almost ten at night here.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”]

[Her mother laughs. “Only you’d go to temples for food!”] nah, her better lover does too *wink wink*

////

[It was one of her favourite places to come and watch the people on the street. She would then turn off her PlayStation when her eyes felt like they were going to melt and she’d find herself here.] omg I've a line vv similar to this one in my wip!! the vibes, the feels these lines give>>

[Usually the egg shaped swing would sway to and fro from the window. The swing room sat at the centre of the top floor and had a window that opened right up to the street. It was one of her favourite places to come and watch the people on the street. She would then turn off her PlayStation when her eyes felt like they were going to melt and she’d find herself here. She’d watched countless things from that spot of hers, sketchbook wide open - abandoned - on her lap as she clamps her teeth around the end of the pencil. Nandhini Aunty going on her evening walks for her blood pressure chattering away into the white wire of her headphones that would disappear into the brown crossbody purse of hers. Chandru Uncle biting into a sugary concoction and stuffing his box of sweets into the dashboard of the car before heading into the house. A couple of the neighbour kids rollerblading with hockey sticks, trying to get the small ball into their opponents nets. And sometimes, Harry tripping over air when he goes for his morning runs; it always made her giggle at his two left feet. ] I read this para like 5 times, it's just so beautiful. I absolutely adore this feeling irl too.

[But right now, the fluorescent white street light doesn’t seem to draw her attention to what’s happening on the streets. She can hear her neighbour’s dog bark but it seems distant and muted. All she could do right now was clutch the plush dolphin to her chest as she stared at the carpet. The scent of turpentine permeates through the room from her unattended art project. Any sensible person who knows their way around oil paints and knows that they should open up the window but she doesn’t seem to care. A giant boulder weighed heavily on her chest - anchoring her to her feelings. 

She feels funny. Funny bad. Funny anxious. She hadn’t felt anxious for weeks now. Layla maintained a regimen: walks with Harry by the lake, low intensity workouts and her hour long yoga, oiling her hair, cooking, taking a hot shower, helping Earl with his flower arrangements, and drawing in her sketchbook. All these helped; they still do. But every time she feels like she’s finally gotten past her anxiety, an ivy wraps around the boulder, making it impossible to touch. Layla chuckles weakly as she closes her eyes and tries to picture the boulder, or her boulder. She wound up reading Payne’s book introducing Narrative Therapy in the library during her final semester and she figured it was worth a shot to try and externalise her anxiety. Was it not the smartest move to not do it with a professional? Probably but she did it anyway. She created this persona of the boulder for her anxiety. Was it the most creative  one out there? Definitely not. But that is what her anxiety felt like, a massive boulder that was sitting right on her chest - sinking her. Every time she has great days and on the days where she can manage her experiences of anxiety she can’t help but think of cracks appearing on the boulder. Her time in America gave rise to a lot of these cracks. But after every setback, all she can picture are dense thorn filled ivys slithering it’s way around the boulder, making it impossible for Layla to get close. ] no one touch me. I beg, do not touch me. please, just don't.

[Layla closes her eyes and exhales loudly through her mouth. I’m not gonna sit here and worry about something that might happen in the future, she affirms herself, pushing herself off the swing.---She splashes her face with some cold water, and pats it dry with a towel. She quickly runs a brush through her hair to get rid of the knots, before bunching it up into a high ponytail. She sniffles, as she pushes her bangs in place, to look remotely put together] slay my baby *sniffles*

[“A sweater vest. My sister-in-law sent me the pattern. Been working on it for two days now.”] we love crocheting and people who crochet <3

[“Just thought you could use some relaxation before your first day of classes tomorrow, Professor Sathish,” he smiles.] ...if he doesn't do this, i don't want him.

[“So what if the rosé is?” He replies, hosting her up onto the sink counter, so he didn’t have to bend down.] you do know what you're doing to us readers, don't you?

[“But,” she continues quietly, “I buy things that are inexpensive.” And the last word is all it took from Layla for Harry to understand. She has chastised him for spending money on her in passing before but he thought it was out of politeness. He didn’t pick up on the fact that it was making her feel bad and he should have listened to her better.] nawwww

[“So? Baby, I don’t know why you continue to do this to yourself. My intent is to not make you feel like you are less than just because the things you buy cost less,” he explains. “Whenever you buy me things, I don’t think to look at the price tag. The books, scarves, that ugly snail mug,” he pinches the soft skin near her bellybutton making her smile up at him, “and even the holiday you paid for, all of it only makes my heart skip a beat because it tells me you care. So why can’t I do the same for you? I understand you need to be financially independent but is it so wrong that I want to treat my girlfriend now and then? I know you save up and make money from your paintings. I do. When I picked up the bottle all that was running in my mind was ‘will this bottle finally convince her to ditch the beer train and hop onto wine.’”] Soft music is playing in the background and we're absolutely loving it.

[Harry doesn’t press, he knows she needs to think things through before she tells him. It frustrated him initially, he was someone that needed to talk things out at the very moment but not her. He couldn’t help but take it personally when she would shut him out when she had had panic and anxiety surges but it’s easier for him now - it’s how she communicates. She needs to take some time to think things through but she always talks to him eventually. Knowing that she is willing to open up to him does alleviate the stress he undergoes during the wait. ] love that for both of them

[“Shit,” he grunts, as his shin comes in contact with the ceramic edge, and it only makes her sputter in a giggle. “Don’t have to be so mean,” he pouts, poking the crescent of her dimple. 

“You don’t have to be so clumsy,” she retorts, sinking back into his chest,] lmaooo

[he cradles her head in the valley of his neck as he hums contently. His arms come to nestle her chest, pulling her into him, as much as the universe would allow him.] melts into a puddle on the floor

[“I’m anxious,” she says quietly. “Have been feeling anxious for a while now.”] same same

[“No. You are actually helping me calm down.” She kisses his neck. “Just keep holding me, yeah.”

He hums a promise, his hand comes to softly caress her cheek - fingers feathering over the apples. He can’t help but bend down to press a kiss to her temple, making her smile when the blue of his mask smears over her, and he’s quick to wipe off the remnants] I'm literally crying sweet tera by now, Maya

[“I did! She talked about her work and presented data on how rapidly the high albedo areas are shrinking and how it has already affected the ecosystem in the Arctic. She even invited me to talk to the class about my experience but I declined.”

“Why?”

“You know I can’t talk in front of an audience. Especially when I’m not prepared. Plus, what would they have benefited from a lowly intern’s experience?”] Yoooooo please tell me he isn't saying that!!

[“Exactly! It’s not like it was easy to get the internships in the first place. Don’t put yourself down like that, Harry,” she says firmly. 

“Thanks,” he bends to kiss her soft lips. “I love you, you know that.”

“I do, my favourite idiot in the world.” Layla tangles her fingers in his locks and guides him back for another one. “Now tell me what albedo means.”] i love them so much :((

[“Touché,” he agrees, conversations like these made him burst at the seams, he had never had this with anyone before. Having someone ask him questions about things he was passionate about, and actively engaging with it rather than dismissing it as a possible career opportunity, was something he had come to realise had the same effect on him as foreplay. He loved that he could pick her brain, he loved it when she would pick his, and most importantly he was absolutely besotted over the fact that she was sharp as a tack.] Mayaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa stopppp!!!!

[“Oh get this, Dr. Bailey knows the head of the earth science department at UCSD. Said she’d be more than happy to send over a recommendation email.”] holy shit

[She picks up on the grape, lots of fruits - berries, pears - but there’s also a whisper of something floral, like the smoke fading out of a candle that was blown out. But there’s also the sizzle of citrus with a hint of something woody. The effervescent liquid has a velvety softness to it as she gulps it down. ] okay now that's a ...description

[Harry laughs. “I’m gonna take full credit for your taste buds maturing. Honestly your choice of alcohol is one of a fifteen year old sneaking the cheapest one they could find at a gas station.”

“Don’t be an asshole. I’m a simple girl, what can I say?” She shrugs, pouring another glass for the two of them. ] 😂😂😂

[But one mystery he experiences is the way every sinew, every cell in his body seem to sizzle and go lax in her presence. It was confounding how she - a person who he did not know existed until a couple months ago - was able to elicit such contradictory responses from his body without so much as sparing a glance in his direction. And that is one mystery he thinks he does not want to decipher, but he would happily be an ignorant fool and ride along the waves for as long as he can.] 'as long as he can' Okay. Okay. thank you. mhm.

[“I’m sorry for giving you a hard time when you buy me things. I know you never do it to make me feel less than. It’s just- it’s just that I don’t want to think you have to get me these expensive things, take me to fancy restaurants to show me you care. Every second you spend with me is enough. You always make me feel loved. Like this bath today. It’s helped me so much. It’s just that I feel like I have to match you sometimes. It feels like you’re always taking care of me and you seem to do everything right. Sometimes I can’t help but think I don’t do the same for you and I don’t want to be a burden. I’ve been made to feel like that a lot,” she tells him quietly, voice as delicate as the wing of a butterfly. 

“Oh sweet girl,” he coos, cupping her face. “Baby, you always take care of me too. You take care of me when I’m sick, you make me food, you’re always the one who tells me I’m going too far when I’m working out too much, and best of all you scratch my back to help me fall asleep.” He takes a deep shuddering breath in. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You are not a burden to me. Never will be one. That’s not how love works. How can someone I love so fucking deeply be a burden, hmm?” A tear, beads at his waterline, and she reaches forward and wipes it away.] tears up fr

[tugging their joint hands towards his lips as he seals their deal with a kiss.] I don't know what I'm done with you for. The fluffiness, or the angst.

[“That so?” He questions, a content smile stretches across his face, making the butterflies erupt from deep within his chest. 

“Yeah. Don’t tell Dolphin this but I think you are very close to replacing him,” she confesses, feeling the heat rush to the tips of her ears.

“Poor guy. That stuffie never had a chance.” He smirks. “Best to keep it a secret from him then.”

“Yeah, would want him murdering you in the middle of the night for stealing his favourite girl away,” she giggles.

“I better be on the lookout for him when I come over to yours then,” he laughs.] ahhhhhHHHHHHH MAYAAAAAAAAAAA

[“Yeah.” He answers quickly, feeling his heart pick up speed, blushing because he knows she could feel it too. “When the right person comes along.” Mossy eyes dilate as they flick to her raven irises. “I won’t probably jump into it like my parents did. But yeah, I’d love to have my own family to come back to after a long day.”

“Family like kids or animal babies?”

“It’ll be nice to have one of each. A boy and a girl. Pups too. And Maybe if I’m lucky the missus will let me have a turtle like I’ve always wanted.] my oh my Maya, you're SO not getting away with this.

[Harry sighs, he hates that her mother constantly has the ability to do this to her and he hates that no matter how hard Layla tries, she keeps getting bulldozed.] I FREAKING KNOW RIGHT

[“You know,” Layla says, “I never thought of talking to her. She could have been in the same position as me years ago. Thanks Harry.”

“Happy to be of service,” he salutes, making the two laugh. “I love you, Layla.” He pinches her cheek fondly.

“I know.” She smiles, pressing a kiss to the inked antenna of the butterfly inked to his chest. “Thank you for tonight. I can’t begin to tell you how much you mean to me.”] thank you very much Maya. Thank you.

////

[“Just thought we’d drop off lunch for you. Aloo Paratha,” Ashwin replies, shaking the box of Tupperware in his hand.] immediately starts drooling

[“I didn’t want that ஓட்டைவாய் (blabbermouth) to hear,” he informs her, turning around to make sure Pooja isn’t eavesdropping.] there's something about the word 'blabbermouth' that makes me laught out loud every time

[“I was wondering if you’d been to the Museum of Art. I thought it would be a fun trip,” Ashwin suggests......You've been to a lot of places with Harry huh?”] I have a feeling someone has a crush.... eh

[“You don’t have to accompany him everywhere,” he laughs. ] ...stfu

////

[She unscrews the lid of the honey jar, and drizzles a generous amount on the slices of Brie and peaches.] me and ms. honey aren't very good friends

peach and cheese???? ahhhhhhhhHHH sometimes the things this girl eats get to me man

[“I’d rather my honey be somewhere else,” he mumbles huskily against her ear. ] *cringes for a second*

[“So bloody sweet for me,” he tells her, as his fingertips smear some honey, from the plate, on her cheek. She squeals in response, when he licks the sweet concoction. ] I get why you put honey in the warnings now

[“We don’t have to do it if-“ He gasps when she spreads it across his lips. She laughs, raising her chin up with pride, a naughty smile spreads across her face. 

“My turn then,” she declares, scooting forward so her bum is at the edge of the table. Her sticky hand finds its place, caressing the faint five o’clock shadow, as she smiles into the kiss. ] if only had I been a fan of honey... but that doesn't put much effect cause you see i freaked out just as much if not more.

[He reaches for the small bottle beside her, unceremoniously unscrewing the lid, then drizzling a string of the golden liquid across her full breasts. A shiver runs down her spine, as a cold breeze trails in through the French doors. His fingers dance across her skin, smearing the sugary syrup across her clavicles, down her sternum, making their way down to the small pudge below her bellybutton. 

“There,” he muses, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Now you truly are my sweet girl.”] I swear if mum were to turn around and see me right now, she would call the mental hospital cause i'm going FERAL

[“No no. Want you now. Wanna feel all of you,” she says. ] do not make decisions while horny Layla

[ “And I- shit.” She gasps, as he nudges at her g spot. ] DON'T TELL ME SHE WAS ABOUT TO SAY WHAT I THINK SHE WAS

[“And I love everything I get to do with you,” she mumbles. ] ...oh well

////

[“Alright see you tomorrow. Tell me how it goes. Can’t believe you’re old enough to be teaching at a collegiate level,” he points, pinching her dimpled cheek and pulling it from side to side making her swat him away. ] smiles

[Showtime.] SLAYYY

I seriously wish I had a teacher like her during online classes sigh

[The rest of the class goes smoothly. The students became extremely enthusiastic when she pulled up the PowerPoint and played a game - making the class do the Stroop test, wanting to show that learning behavioural neuroscience was not as boring as they think. It was quite rewarding to see all twenty three students very easily theorise what the experiment measures, and how it can be useful in their practice as future clinicians. They took a thirty minute break and Layla was so grateful for the bowl of nuts her uncle put on the desk. They all went through the syllabus in detail and to finish off the class, she made everyone introduce themselves and name rate the last movie they watched with a noise. Needless to say, the icebreaker was a hoot and if the other two undergrad classes were like this - it was a job well done.] I'm so proud literally love her so much

[With a soft afghan draped over his torso, Harry reads. Or rereads. The copy of Bukowski’s Love Is a Dog From Hell] ahhhHHHHH BUKOWSKIIIIII

[After the Alzheimer’s diagnosis, the roles had reversed - Harry was now the one reading to his grandad, relishing the taste of their moments of spirited discourse - knowing that in the near future he will be longing for them, as his granddad’s faculties decline.] awh

[telling him it was the perfect set up for a wham bam thank you ma’am] lmaooo

[Now, he can’t think of not ever having her in his life. Is it all fate? Were their atoms battered into the very cosmos that created them, intermingling, destined to cross paths? These were some of the questions he’d penned into his journal, the night he’d told her that he loved her. The night he stayed awake just staring at the creature passed out next to him, in the makeshift hobbit hole. ] I only selected 6 lines but this whole paragraph was very much loved by me

[“Don’t laugh. I’ve owned this matching golf outfit since middle school and it’s the only one I have.] I'm guilty that I did laugh

[His mouth twists in disdain as he sees Layla climb into Ashwin’s car with a laugh, handing him her bag of clubs, rolling his eyes at the way Ashwin shuts the trunk of the car. The green eyed monster - is certainly going to make an appearance in his journal today with derision aimed at Ashwin.] what an ending

She's baaaack after crushing her exams! It's honestly so adorable that you feel very protective of Layla. It's endearing to me.

[“You don’t have to accompany him everywhere,” he laughs. ] ...stfu

This made me laugh so hard, not gonna cry. What are we gonna do with Ashwin, huh?

Sorry about honey not agreeing with you. Maybe replace honey with maple syrup of some sort??

[ “And I- shit.” She gasps, as he nudges at her g spot. ] DON'T TELL ME SHE WAS ABOUT TO SAY WHAT I THINK SHE WAS [“And I love everything I get to do with you,” she mumbles. ] ...oh well

Patience, young grasshopper... if it happens, you'll be the first one to know.

Thank you so much for the feedback! You know how much I cherish these!