#they were both really hurt in that conversation

[anneangel]

Aziraphale is not "bad". He is clearly suffering and that is noticeable to anyone (or so I suppose).

But, in the same way that Crowley is sad about the whole situation (and about Aziraphale's choice), the audience felt the same way (ok, I know Crowley would never hate Aziraphale, while some fans condemned him and hated him a lot after that). But, getting to my point: I believe that, for most of us, Aziraphale is not "the bad", it's just that the entire 15 minutes were played to make us feel more empathy for Crowley. He is the one we can identify with the most in the 'lover who declares his affection and is rejected'. Meanwhile, the 15 minutes still have Aziraphale saying that heaven 'is the side of the good guys' (something that would consequently be rejected by Crowley and the audience, who would agree with him in 'Heaven and Hell are toxic').

Its much harder to understand Aziraphale's side when the whole scene is played out in Crowley's favor. Aziraphale ends up coming off as the "poor naive" who leaves his love behind in exchange for trying to make Heaven a more decent place. But Crowley's plan to run away isn't ideal either, it's also naive foolishness. They were both purposely put in a difficult situation, Metatron knew he would separate them by confronting them with a topic they would disagree on: Heaven.

Aziraphale, by saying "Heaven is the good guys' side," claimed to believe in the status quo. As if he believes that Heaven is broken, but can be fixed. But Crowley, by saying that "Heaven and Hell are toxic," doesn't believe they can be fixed, that they are both toxic precisely because it are functioning as it should.

I don't think either Crowley or Aziraphale is wrong, they just have different opinions based on what they believe. They shouldn't have to apologize for that. Aziraphale hurt Crowley, but Crowley also hurt Aziraphale. They're both hurt.

The reaction to Aziraphale was only so antagonistic because, as I said, the audience tends to identify more with Crowley and his idea that "Heaven and Hell are toxic", so they tend to give him more credibility during these last 15 minutes. But he was also wrong in the way he conducted the conversation.

Aziraphale saying that they can both go to Heaven as angels, is like having to accept that there is only Heaven and Hell and they need to join one of them, in the classic "if you can't beat them, join them". On the other hand, Crowley does not believe that it is possible to "join them", he believes that it is only possible to play against the system and outside of it, as an "us".

Only the plot of the sequel will show which one is being wiser (and I really hope the plot doesn't do it in a way that blames and ridicules one of them).

Based on the previous premise, from S1, Aziraphale is usually the one who wants to save the world and Crowley (show Crowley) is the one who thinks about go away, but backs down because of Aziraphale. The show in general shows an angel in love with the world and the things in it (and consequently a demon that lives there) and a demon in love with an angel.

They both ended up saying things, and acting, in ways that hurt each other in S2.

But that happens at least once in a couple's life, doesn't it?

So you see, the second season only separated them to bring them back together in the "sequel" in a more epic way (or so I hope).

P.s: beautiful ART❤️

How can there be people who see Aziraphale as the bad one when they must have seen this scene in the series?! Can't they see how desperate he is and how much he's suffering? It makes absolutly no sense to me that someone can't see this..

Thank you for inspiration @crowleys-hips

[steviewashere]

CW: Infertility (Coming from my own experience just...with a uterus.)

Thinking right now about Steve who wants his own family really bad, but finds out he's 100% infertile.

He only finds out after a failed marriage. His first marriage. Has a beautiful, wonderful, just absolutely incredible wife who accepts everything about his past—stuff he won't talk about and otherwise. Yet, the one thing they knew for certain was a definite in their relationship was children. However, for some reason (that I don't have), his wife rejects the idea of adopting children. So they try. They try and try and try.

Eventually, they get their eggs and sperm analyzed. Her eggs are healthy, her uterus is fine, no complications associated with her ovaries.

Steve, in his next visit, finds out he's infertile. It's not genetically caused. His parents were very fertile, just decided to have only one child. And—maybe due to some Upside Down bullshit; bat bites being untreated, injuries being too traumatic—his sperm production and his sperm vitality are completely destroyed.

He's devastated, of course he is. Brings it up to his wife. They agree to go their separate ways because this was something they both wanted, but now can't have.

And then he just floats about for a while. Quiet and disheartened.

He goes back to Hawkins and bumps into Eddie. Now, I'm thinking, personally, that this isn't some romance story. They're strictly platonic in this scenario (for now).

They get to talking and somewhere in the conversation, Steve's infertility comes up. Eddie tries to gently explain to him that there's other options to have children. "Foster care," he says, "it's where I was for a while. You can adopt from an orphanage, from a hospital. There's always the option for surrogacy, y'know. A lot of different"—

"Eds," Steve interrupts, "I appreciate this, but I...I don't want to talk about it anymore. It hurts too much to think about."

"Sorry," Eddie apologizes.

Steve just shakes his head, resigned. "It's not your fault," he murmurs, "guess I'm just upset that my body doesn't work the way it's supposed to."

"Not everybody's works the way it's supposed to, Steve."

"Yeah," he whispers, "but I was sorta hoping my own would."

There's a lull in the conversation. A long while of just silence and a cigarette being passed and the gentle rustle of trees around them. Outside, in the Forest Hills trailer park, staring down a set of rusted swings.

"How do you think I should handle this, Eddie?"

"Hm?"

"This...this body issue. What am I supposed to do about it? I'm, like...like grieving over nothing."

"You grieve, Steve," Eddie answer simply, "you get angry and you cry. That's all you can really do."

"I don't want to be angry, though. I want...I want to be happy. I want my dream to come true! I want"—he sighs and swallows and looks on ahead of him. To a place he once visited constantly when he still lived full-time in Hawkins, not just passing through. Out on a town that he once called home, a place where he couldn't be the person he wanted to be. Couldn't get what he needed.—"I want to love my kid in a way I never got."

And Eddie looks to him. To his profile. Shuffles closer, cigarette out on the porch. Arm wrapping over Steve's shoulders, tugging him in. "I know," Eddie whispers, "I'm sorry, Steve. I'm really, really sorry."

"It's not your fault, Eds."

"It's not yours either."

He keeps staring out. To a place that was hopeful. Where his dreams bared new. When things seemed reasonable and he could face everything head-on and knew exactly what he wanted for himself. A future of laughter and soft lullabies and hugs warm enough to soothe the world.

There'll be other chances. But not now. Not when he's like this.

"I know," he merely mutters, "I know."

[xetlynn]

Twilight Imagines- Jasper x Reader

Curiosity

[Masterlist]

Requested by: @futurequeen2018-blog

“Are you sure you want to come?” Bella asks me as we had just gotten into her truck. “Isn’t this against your guys' agreement or something?” Starting up the vehicle but also not glancing my way. I hum softly, not really knowing how to respond. It is against the treaty to go on one another’s land they claimed. 

Technically on the other hand if they get permission it is different. And I have permission from the one and only. Carlisle Cullen. I know my family would be angry. 

Very angry. But what they don’t know won’t hurt them. “Just go, questions will be answered in due time.” I joke with Bella, snapping my seatbelt on. Surprisingly she takes it and reverses out of my mother’s driveway. 

The only reason I got permission from the vampire was because I was with Bella when Edward came over. I pleaded with her boyfriend to let me talk with his “dad.” I needed to know their side of the story. Everyone’s history. I believe my people of course. I had to know more. I got to call the sculpture of a man. His voice was sultry, smooth and almost angelic. I felt safe instantly and I now understand why Bella trusted them so. 

I explained my curiosity, my interest in learning about them, he told me the dangers. On both sides. I knew what I was getting into. It wasn’t difficult to push though, with a sigh from him he told me I was welcome to come over with Bella, to keep it a secret. 

“We’re here.” Her voice startles me, my eyes widen but I quickly calm myself. Giving a small smile and exiting the loud red vehicle. “Oh.” I mumble, slamming the door shut behind me. Four of the Cullen’s were already outside to greet us. Edward rushed to his lover as I walked toward the other three. Carlisle reaches a hand out and I take it. Curtly shaking it, then letting it drop to my side. “An honor, [Name].” He nods his head, I do the same. “Thank you.” I say. 

“This is Esme and Emmett.” He introduces me to the pretty duo beside him. His wife and other “Son.” Esme gives me a gentle smile, not offering her hand though. “Nice to meet you again.” 

Oh, right. We’ve met before. “Yes, it is.” I attempt a smile but now I’m beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea after all. “Don’t go all wolf on us now, come inside.” Emmett’s voice booms loudly, motioning for me to follow him. I glance back to Bella’s red truck then over to Carlisle who gives me a reassuring expression. I let out a breath, letting my feet take over. 

As beautiful as their house is outside it’s even more gorgeous inside. I soak everything in, my eyes wandering everywhere. I notice the other three Cullen’s in the living room as we get to the kitchen. They were talking amongst themselves. The blonde’s beauty was almost overwhelming and then my eyes landed on the other girl. Her eyes are already piercing into mine. 

Once she sees me look at her she gives me a genuine smile which I wasn’t expecting. I smile back, shortly waving. As I went to look at the guy he was walking away. Seemingly… upset? “Hi, I’m Alice! You strangely don’t smell awful.” The girl from before is now in my face and I take a step back, alarmed. 

“...hi, and thanks?” I shyly respond. Jacob told me they despised wolves, why are they being so nice to me? “It is weird that you smell decent.” The blonde interjects the conversation that I think I was going to have with the short brunette. “Um- I don’t know how to respond to that.” I awkwardly chuckle, avoiding eye contact with them. 

“I thought it was just going to be Carlisle and I.” I rub the back of my neck, changing the subject. I didn’t expect to meet everyone. Well almost everyone since that one guy didn’t want to meet me. For some reason it kind of hurt my feelings? I don’t understand why. 

“That is what was supposed to happen but they are nosey. Felt entitled to meet you.” Carlisle steps in, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Oh, well if they want to stay for the time being I don’t mind hearing everyone’s side of things. That’s why I’m here.” I smile, folding my arms in front of my chest, mainly to comfort myself.  “If you’re alright with it.” He repeats, I glance at everyone who was kind of staring me down. I swallow thickly, looking back up to him. “It’s fine.” I almost whisper. “Let’s go to the couch, to get more comfortable.” Esme leads the way into the living room. “I’m Rosalie by the way.” The beautiful woman says, nudging my arm. “[Name].” I say back. 

We all sit down as a group, except Emmett who stays standing behind his wife. Rubbing her shoulders every now and then. 

And this is kind of how it’s been since that day. We talk in the living room of their house, telling me their stories. Carlisle always has more to say due to being the eldest out of all of them. Hearing the heartbreaking things they’ve been through to be who they are now just makes me not understand why we hate them so much. Not all of them are evil, just like not all humans are evil. It’s a 50/50 chance to meet someone bad. You never truly know who you are going to meet. It’s scary but that’s the price of living. Or not living in their cases. 

Everytime I come over, there’s that one guy who always leaves the house. I learned his name is Jasper. There’s only been two times where he has stayed, It’s not for a long time either. For thirty minutes at most and it seems like if I look at him too much he tenses up and that’s what causes him to leave. I ask Rosalie and Alice about him quite a bit. Curiosity getting the best of me. Emmett makes fun of me, telling me I have a puppy crush on him. Insulting if you ask me. 

Alice always tells me it’s nothing personal with him; he just has a hard time opening up to people. Especially when he finds them interesting himself. Or threatening and I hope it’s the first one because I only want to be his friend. Like I became with the three, more Rosalie, kind of Emmett as well. 

Alice has been leaving with Jasper more recently, I don’t know why. She didn’t explain it but I can tell something serious is going on. Something to do with Bella. No one will tell me anything though. I think it’s because of me being a wolf. 

With that being said it’s also been hectic at the Rez. Paul, my cousin keeping a closer eye on me. Making me stay with the pack to train. Again it is kept a weird secret against me. Until I found out from Jacob and Leah talking. Some vampire is making an army of newborns to kill the Cullen’s. Wanting Edward and mainly Bella dead. They’re tracking her scent and everything, someone’s been in her room. 

When I found out I ran to my car, driving to the Cullen's place, I didn’t know someone was following behind me though. Shoving my gear shift into park I run up to the front door, knocking like a mad man. The door opens and I immediately begin talking. “Why didn’t anyone tell me that’s what we’re training for? Supposedly I was training to literally do nothing too.” I glare at the person before me. It was Jasper. When my eyes landed on him something felt different. The world getting brighter. My heart rate quickened. My breathing stunted. “I- What?” I whisper, before I can say anything else though I hear a scoff behind me. 

“Are you kidding me, [Name]!?” My cousin Paul shouts behind me, Jasper and I look at him with wide eyes. “I don’t know what happened! Wait! Calm down!” I step off the porch, Jasper right next to me, trying to explain what I just did. We’ve never even talked to one another and I just imprinted on him. How stupid am I? Can a wolf even do that with a vampire? Is that natural? Is that okay? 

“You imprinted on a vampire, [Name]. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He screams in my face, Jasper places a hand on my cousin’s chest. “Hey, it’s not her fault and you know that.” He sticks up for me. I tense up as Paul glares at him. “Don’t touch me, freak.” He shoves the guy. I feel my skin get hot. 

“Don’t touch him!” I scream and push Paul back, causing him to stumble. 

All of a sudden I’m not onto the steps of the porch, hurting my back. I look back to see the Cullen’s getting in defensive stances. My eyes go back to the guys in front of me. Paul backs up and I think he’s going to walk it off but instead he runs back toward Jasper, shifting into his wolf form. Jasper braces himself for impact but I quickly get up shifting in my own form. Attacking Paul from the side. 

Both of us get up after rolling in the dirt. I shake it off, getting in front of Jasper protectively. Baring my teeth at my cousin. Snapping when he gets too close. “You’re going to fight for him over your own family!?” He questions me. “He’s my mate now, I have no choice.” I growl. He gets close to me but I snarl. Standing my ground. “It’s in our rules. You can’t harm my imprint, Paul.” I remind him. He attempts to get at me again but when I don’t move he pauses. Not responding to me. Just staring me down. I do the same, not losing my stance. Then suddenly he huffs, running off. 

I look back to the Cullen’s whimpering as an apology, bowing my head down. Closing my eyes. Not believing the mess I just made. How could I imprint on Jasper? Why did I have to do that!? He probably resents me now, I screwed up my every chance of being normal to him. 

“It’s okay, hun.” A country accent rips through the air, a hand petting under my chin and I look up to see Jasper giving me a gentle smile, his dimples forming. “You did nothing wrong, [Name].” Edward tells me, shocking me. I just wish I was in my human form but I know if I shift back I’ll be naked. 

“Go get her a blanket.” Jasper says, as if he was reading my mind. I know he can feel my emotions, but not read my thoughts like Edward. Alice comes toward me with a large blanket, wrapping it over me back giving me enough privacy to go back to my human form. 

When I do I grip the blanket, covering myself. “Thank you.” I huff, feeling sweaty and gross. “No problem, love.” Jasper helps me up, keeping an arm wrapped around me. “I understand if this is weird for you.” I automatically say to him. He breathes out a quiet laugh. 

He looks around at the others, giving a look as if to tell them to leave us for a moment. They do so, going back inside. “We never even spoke and now we’re supposed to be mates.” I drop my head, embarrassed with myself. “It’s definitely interesting.” He squeezes me closer to him. 

“Don’t you find it weird?” I ask, hiding my face in the blanket, we both sit down. “Mm, I was fond of you before you imprinted. I think this just gives me a push to get to know you.” He tells me, I gasp quietly, still hiding my face though.

“You were?”

“Yeah, nerves got to me, I couldn’t read your emotions when you looked at me. You were happy when you spoke to everyone but when you looked at me it was confusion..? I don’t know.” He explains. It grows quiet as I begin to register what he’s telling me. “Can I see your face?” He asks. I slowly do it, looking up at him. 

“You’re embarrassed.” He states. My face grows warm. “Who wouldn’t be in my position? I’m naked and I just imprinted on this handsome guy that also happens to be a vampire?” I dramatically explain, almost dropping the blanket but he lifts it back on my shoulder before that happens, leaving me with an even warmer face. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m happy with what happened.” He stares into my eyes to prove his being genuine. “Are you sure?” I quiz. 

“Positive.” He snickers. “Can I kiss you?” I blurt out, only making him laugh more. “Yes, you can.” 

I reach out with a covered hand and touch his face, pulling him into a kiss.

---------------------

I'm super sorry this took forever to come out, I've been busy with another move, along with a bunch of other personal stuff. I have been working on writings during this time I just haven't had time to edit and post it. Expect a few things to be posted within these next few days. Hopefully at least:)

[clitorphosis]

SPIT TO SEE THE SHINE

Vendetta Leon S. Kennedy x reader |18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON, smut, age gap (reader is in 20s, Leon is 37) female reader, abusive relationship, implied alcoholism, stockholm syndrome, creampie, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, use of ‘daddy’ (not a lot), implied erectile disfunction lmao, victim blaming, fingering, implied physical and sexual violence, forced breeding.

Summary: life gets lonelier after 30s, the realization hits harder Leon and the way to cope with it is to get his hands on alcohol… too bad booze tends to encourage him to not be a good man - ending up with a younger girl in his apartment. Maybe it is a grave mistake, but Leon is just a man and who doesn’t make them? notes: uhm, this may be a lil bit self indulgent, sorry for that :3 I DONT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOR IN REAL LIFE!!! reblogs, asks and any kind of feedback or interaction are really appreciated! :3

tags: @withonly-sweetheart

Mama has told you not to trust strangers, the concern was referred to the men, but your ears have never held her words for a time longer than a day. Nor did you remember her words when an attractive, older man noticed you and was nice enough to ask you out. That night was supposed to be a little date, giddy and happy jumping into the front seat of his car. That’s the last thing you remember. Eventually, you can not fathom how this happened - the day later your head hurt as you were forced to swallow the hard pill: you got kidnapped by your date.

The first month was insufferable and painful, slowly growing out of your ‘rebellious attitude’ and memorizing his body language like a child in an abusive household. His gaze is everywhere, keeping you locked up in the room when he is not present, a reminder to you that there is no free choice. The food, clothes, and your free time were defined by Leon’s mood and taste which… Liked to swing, creating a mess for you both, not knowing if he was genuinely ashamed of what he had done. You hated him, dreaming about the day when his throat would be sliced, painting your hands with red just to breathe in the air of freedom.

Mama knows best. No, Leon knows best.

Sometimes Leon is mean, without hesitation, sharp words can be thrown at you when he is drunk. Blaming his misery on you. Trying not to be affected by them, not enough to avoid some of them as they cling to your mind - circling as a reminder.

“You deserve this, what did you think a man would want from a woman?”,

“you are better dead”,

“you asked for this”. Did you actually?

Sometimes he is the nicest guy around here. Showering you with tenderness and care, trying to have a normal conversation, but not daring to look into your eyes. Ashamed probably, which was bittersweet and pleasant, but confusing too. Like a couple. You promised yourself to not change the way you feel about him, even if he is sweet. Not like you have a lot of options now.

Certainly, Stockholm syndrome wasn’t going to avoid you, it didn’t take long either. You aren’t special and Leon looked so lonely, returning after work mostly devastated. The expression someone would have had while grieving over something not obtainable. Not even daring to look into your face, ignoring you until his hands do not reach the booze - drinking himself until his mood changes to a handsy one. Physical or sexual. Sometimes both. And Leon is lonely, he told it himself once. Naturally or not, anger has changed to pity, while hate is mixed with something affectionate towards him. You can’t help yourself.

As someone has said - from love to hatred is one step.

So the routine has become clear after a month of staying here, sitting on the floor and watching TV while Leon is behind you. Big brother is watching you - no, Leon is watching you. Drunk or not, monitoring whatever is on the screen is appropriate in his eyes. Not for too long you were concentrating on the blue gleam coming from the screen, illuminating both frames in the living room, now like a natural thing for you both - his fingers end up in your panties to rub your clit in slow and lazy circles. His chest is pressing against your back, focused on your expressions and squirming. His calloused fingertips press harder against your sensitive clit, to hear your voice. Your body is the biggest enemy here - like a Pavlovian dog, reacting to his touch quickly and eagerly. The skin of his fingers is wet and soaked with your slick already, in no time, filling the room with squelching and wet sounds as your moans become harder to keep to yourself. Writhing and trying to shift away, but your body tends to become immobile most of the time - there is no fight or flight, just freeze.

“You look so miserable. It is reassuring, so cute too” In misery, together. His tone is the one someone would use for a dog. Always using that one with you, but you are not a dog. Not like you have any other choices right now, other than taking like a good girl and not lamenting.

If someone would have asked you, Leon is shameless with you, not the one to be shy after a bottle of whiskey, even if he can’t get it up sometimes. His fingers nudge your soaked hole, which aches for his attention. It clenches around nothing, pathetically and you disappointedly whine at the emptiness inside you.

“Come on, open your legs, be a nice girl for Daddy” Leon cooed. His lips brush over your ear, not giving you a chance to do this by yourself - forcing your legs roughly to part wider. “So much better now”

Your hips shift, arching your back as his two fingers intrude into your pussy, curling sweetly inside it to push them at your favorite sweet spot - to enforce more moans at every jolt of pleasure hitting your body. Leon likes that, watching you squirm and open your mouth like a fish desperate for air cause of him. His grip on your jaw is tight, painful even - there are going to be bruises tomorrow and he will be apologizing like a madman.

“Daddy has been so miserable these days too, fucking Redfield is always hassling me.” You don’t know who is that. The sound of his hand fumbling with his belt and the fly of his jeans reach your ears, a loud noise of them falling on the floor. “Can’t even have a vacation, what would you do without me, baby?”

“Ughh…!” you choke on your moans. There is no thought behind your eyes, your entire attention is on your pleasure. Feeling overwhelmed at every thrust of his fingers, writhing in his hold while he is roughly pumping into your drenched hole, an uncomfortable wetness clings to your inner thighs - begging to fuck you already.

“Fuck, I am so sorry, sweetheart, but you are so wet. I can’t. Just the tip, okay? Sorry,” he groans breathlessly, giving hot and quick kisses on the side of your head. Sweet touch. His gaze darkens and his body presses harder against yours, feeling his erection press against your ass. “just… this hole is dripping, and you don’t look like you don’t want it”

You are so close actually, every thrust hitting your sweet spot, curling, and keeping the quick pace of his fingers make you almost drool while focusing on approaching orgasm. Too bad that isn’t on his to-do list. As much as he wants to see you cum, on his fingers or not, - his own pleasure is much more important, especially when his dick is hard. Whiskey dick isn’t so easy to get up these days. His fingers roughly withdraw from your soaked hole with a squelching pop, denying your orgasm. The emptiness returns and your sensitive pussy clenched around nothing again - aching to be filled again.

“So messy,” Leon mutters out, shoving his index and middle fingers in your mouth - forcing you to clean them, your tongue rolls and wraps around them, tasting yourself before he finally pulls them away. “asking for bad things to happen”

You can swear to God this made your clit throb. Wetter than you can ever be, or you are hallucinating, hoping this isn’t the case. Thoughts are quickly brushed aside when his cock is pressed in between your pussy lips, bumping against your aching clit while he rubs himself against your soaked and needy cunt that coats his flesh in your slick, lubing his length in it before he pushed his cock into you - Leon is not really a patient man. Yeah, just the tip, of course. Your velvety walls easily swallow his cock, stretching inch by inch with pleasant pain and letting it slide as he pushed in quick motion until his cock got buried deep inside you. Balls pressed against your flesh, while you can’t help but tightly clench around him, his chest is pressed against your back. Relishing how tight and warm is your pussy, the best and most calming feeling for Leon - to fill you with his cock for his own pleasure. Your hair gets tugged roughly, making your head roll back while Leon starts moving slowly. His cock drags against your walls, pulling out until only a tip remains inside.

“See? Only a tip” Leon mocks you, before slamming back in, bottoming out in one thrust. You whimper and squirm, but his hold on your hair is hard - the only way to keep you under his control. His hips start pounding into you, falling deep into the pleasure connecting your bodies. “Your pussy just feels so good, weren’t you made for this, mmm?”

His movements stutter as his pace slowens when his blue eyes make eye contact with the TV. You didn’t really catch on what was happening until his hand tugged your hair, directing your half-lidded gaze to the point of his interest. The sight of your image on the news, big words on the red background: MISSING PERSON. The former shelf of yourself is staring at you both, smiling brightly - not knowing there is no future for you. The volume is turned off. In this household, it is common knowledge that Leon doesn’t let you watch the news, every time getting agitated and avoiding you even more, when sober, which doesn’t last long after that. The mood swing was quick, every time it was like a loud thunderstorm, his hips make another thrust - cock hits your cervix and forces out a loud moan, involuntarily, when Leon’s cockhead grinds against it.

“This is bullshit, you know?” He hisses into your ear, giving another rough thrust to make you gasp pathetically, as he presses your head against the TV screen. “no one is coming for you. Why? Cause you are forgettable, baby, no one needs you”

“S-stop, Leon” you mumble in between moans and trying to keep yourself aware of what is happening. “T-too much, p-please!”

Your body feels like it is on fire due to the mix of emotions he provokes, your cunt grips his cock tightly while aching for your denied orgasm from before. His hand gives a hard slap on your sensitive clit, making you arch and flinch. Your pussy flutters, gripping him tighter.

“Shhh, I am doing a favor here” he mutters, yanking your head back, forcing you to look at the news while his pounding grew more erratic, intensifying wet and flesh-hitting sounds. His voice is loud in your ears, muffling other sounds, overwhelming as his cock keeps making rough thrusts into you with every word - to punctuate them. “Keeping you here, taking care of useless you that can’t do anything right”

He buries himself deep again, pausing again to relish in the feeling of his cock filling you, while your wet walls engulf him nicely - like a drug, inviting him to stay there and never pull away. Slick drips down your thighs, and his nose brushes behind your ear before nibbling on the soft cartilage. His hand gives another light slap on your pussy, the tightness of your walls almost makes him cum.

“Maybe a baby, what do you think about it, mm?” The idea makes him throb, sliding in and out more erratically. As if he cares about your opinion right now, his fingers tug your hair harder, but his words make you flinch harder. Tears prick behind your eyelids.

“No-no-no. You can’t cum inside, no!” He is not wearing a condom. Bad, too bad. Begging comes out naturally for you now, in between your moans. Fear coats your voice, as the idea sets in quickly - being trapped here cause of an unfortunate kid. “Not the baby! Leon, please! I’ll be good, please!”

“Of course, I can. Shut up. You like this” Leon hisses, keeping your head in a firm hold, so your eyes are set on the old photo. It doesn’t feel right, but you can’t stop yourself from making noises, shifting so Leon would hit a better angle. This somewhat combines with a shame, at every hint of it your mind shoves it away. “You can’t look at yourself, too bad. Dripping even more after my words, like a whore.“

Wanting to cum, focusing more on the pleasure of his dick filling your hole - feels so wrong, but good. Like your body shouldn’t enjoy how Leon’s hips keep pounding into your soaked cunt, hitting the pudgy spot and making you repeat his name like a prayer, but your own mind and body are the biggest enemy, betraying you. His own balls tighten, as a reminder of his so soon approaching orgasm.

“You love me right, baby?” Leon whispers, voice coming out breathy and brushing against your ear shell. His calloused fingers crawl back to your clit, flicking and rubbing it roughly and unsteadily. Trying to keep the feeling of that warm tightness sucking in his cock.

“I love you, Leon, o-oh!” you hum, nibbling on the lower lip and arching, letting more noises when his dick hits your sweet spot so sloppily and messy now, chasing his orgasm. And him circling your clit with his calloused fingertips makes your legs tremble - so close to tripping and falling flat on the floor. This makes your mind fuzzy, shoving away the fear of being pregnant. Leon is nice, right? Nice enough to push you against the cold screen of the TV, it doesn’t have its use anymore. That photo faded with the news, after all. “I love you, love you,”

Your voice comes out shaky and high-pitched now. His eyes are set on your disheveled look, with light traces of tears as you repeat the confession erratically, filling his mind with them. Making this normal, you love him, so he can allow himself to not feel so guilty, right? With a final and rough thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, giving chaste and soft kisses to the back of your head. Your body shudders eventually too, your walls spasm harder around him as the hard feeling of orgasm hits you, pleasant shockwaves dumb every bad thought in the head. His cock throbbed, letting a loud groan and finally spurting ropes of cum into you while keeping messy circles on your sensitive clit, prolonging your orgasm and making you more overwhelmed with every flick. The warm essence fills your hole, Leon pulls out his softening cock with a wet pop, watching how his sperm slowly oozes out from your pussy. His mind is light, the hint of booze keeps guilt from emerging.

Words of love don’t feel like a complete lie now, as pleasant memories overwhelm the bad ones. They become almost an empty spot in the back of your mind, leaving only a foggy feeling of hate and dread. And your brain is weak for the bliss, hammering every moment deep in you - craving for more. Hate won’t bring you out of this, maybe affection will. Your hand grips weakly his wrist, you won’t be able to bear the loneliness after sex tonight.

“Don’t leave me” Your mouth is quicker than your mind, not processing anything right now. Leon breaks out in a weak smile, but his gaze isn’t capable of keeping eye contact right now. Still, he scoops you in his arms without a second thought. Remaining silent, feeling your weak body in his hold he can’t help but pepper chaste kisses on your forehead. Trying to prolong the sweet and guiltless moment for you both.

You should have known better than to accept that date with him.

[deathbxnny]

Our blood will drip from your hands. | Caitlyn x Fem!Reader (feat. Vi)

This is my official contribution to the Arcane Fandom and also my way of asking for requests. I hope you guys enjoy this!!<33

Summary: You befriended Caitlyn shortly after being taken in by an influential family in Piltover as a young child. You always believed that she saw you for who you were and not just for what you were. However, when she dared to appear in your home as your nation's newly appointed dictator, you realised that she was never any different herself.

Content: Heavy season 2 spoilers!!!!, Zaunite Reader, conflicting emotions, undefined relationship, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of grief on Caitlyn's side, childhood friends, racism/discrimination against Zaunites, slight Vi x Reader?, sfw

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

"Have you... Have you lost your mind, Caitlyn?" You never expected to end up like this with her. Conversations that were once filled with laughs, gentle words, and wide smiles now felt sinister and cold. You shivered slightly under her domineering gaze and yet stood your ground, a defiant flame from your past childhood burning in your heart. The silence that followed your question felt dangerous, that familiar fear sparking in you at the glinting of her pristine uniform under the moonlight in the garden she had trapped you in. It reminded you of the days in which you could feel only terror at the mere sight of it, rightfully so. But perhaps the years of being fed with a silver spoon had you slowly cooking like a frog in a pot, doomed to unknowingly perish from its own blissful ignorance.

And was it too late to jump out now?

When you saw the navy haired woman's jaw clench tightly in a show of brave self-restraint, you realised that, yes, it was way too late for you.

Things went downhill the moment Caitlyn introduced you to Vi, you concluded. There was an instant bond you had with the woman, a bond only two of the same kin and background could have, despite your different upbringing. You remembered the night the three of you sat in these grand gardens of yours, the privilege of the fresh air filling your lungs weighing heavy on your consciousness as she spoke of her past. You recognized the places she mentioned, felt the emotions that ran through her, and shared the silent, familiar fear of the uniformed devil's with ease. You spoke of things the Kirammann could never understand, and you believed that it was alright that she didn't.

Caitlyn didn't say a word while you two spoke, her face betraying no negative emotion as she just simply gripped onto your gloved hand tightly. Foreshadowing, you had missed perhaps in hindsight. You had foolishly hoped that she saw you both as people, regardless of where you hailed from. You realise now that your wishful thinking had made you painfully naive.

The veil had finally been lifted from your eyes now and revealed the truth you've been denying for so long. And why did it take you so much time to realise it anyway? Why did it have to be Caitlyn's disgusted look to shake you awake?

Why didn't you just listen to Vi when she appeared at your doorstep hours earlier, a shell of what she once, as she practically cried in your arms? You never thought you'd see the day in which a fellow Zaunite would willingly degrade themselves so terribly by wearing the uniform of their oppressors. But why did you always make an exception for Caitlyn then, if you hated seeing Vi as one?

She had left shortly after, leaving you crying in frustration and betrayal when she told you how they used the ventilation system against your own people. They had flooded the streets with that toxic smog, hurt people more than they already were, and potentially even killed some for what? And unfortunately... the woman before you was the mastermind of it all.

Grief was a terrible thing. It really was. And yet, there was no excuse for this.

Your mind spun, legs threatening to give out at any moment. You should have run after Vi. You shouldn't have stayed here for a moment longer. But you had deluded yourself into thinking that it was all just a misunderstanding. That you had heard it wrong. Even if you couldn't look away from the devil anymore that you once lovingly called your best friend... or perhaps even more?

Slightly stumbling backward with a faint sigh, Caitlyn was quick to grab onto your hip, yet you flinched out of her grasp quicker than you could process it. It was a relfex on both of your sides. "No, don't you dare touch me after what you've... what you will do." You couldn't stand being near her as the panic set in, and you were desperate to get away. You never thought that you'd come to this point. You never thought that you'd learn to hate her so suddenly. It made you sick.

She reluctantly let her hand fall back to her side, and it unnerved you then that she had yet to say a thing. Did she perhaps feel guilty after all? Was she perhaps reflecting? A glance into her eyes reconfirmed that you were indeed wrong about her once again. You needed to stop dreaming. Your life up here has blinded you too much.

"... You weren't there today." You knew that she meant the councilor meeting with all the other noble houses. Your adoptive parents had gone as well, albeit without you. They were in clear disagreement with the entire situation themselves, and yet social pressure was a curse. Turning away from her, you found the energy to scoff. "And what of it? Do you expect me to stand there and cheer? Support a potential mass killing of innocent people?" "I am keeping us safe. I'm keeping you safe. There is nothing innocent about them." Her voice was raised and sharp, nothing like you had ever heard before. The adrenaline was making your body shake dangerously, and you started becoming aware of how angry you were. You hadn't felt like this in years. And here you thought you were used to their hate, too.

"So you are willing to murder hundreds over Jinx? Because that's what this is all about, isn't it? Revenge?" You got it right. It was all just for that. She was willing to disgrace her own ancestors' life work to fill the void left behind by her mother’s absence. "... I am doing all of this so no one has to get hurt again. We are left with no other choice. They are too dangerous-" "-Then why am I any different? What am I, if you view us as nothing but animals?" Silence. Just as expected, she never thought that far. Or maybe she simply considered you one of the better ones. The one whose blood was saved by the kindness of your parents in Piltover. You weren't tainted anymore. You were perfect because this place allowed you to be.

"... Why can you just not see all I'm doing for us? I... don't make me turn on you, too. You are better than this." You let out a laugh, one that could've sent down a shiver down anyone's spine. Even Caitlyn's, if she wasn't so tense and rigid now. Vi was right. She truly had changed for the worse. And god did it hurt.

"I loved you, Cait. I really did. And I understand the pain you've gone through after the loss of your mother. I stood at your side on the day of the funeral. I felt your agony." What should've been a confession filled with relief and happiness, now simply left a bitter taste in your mouth. "But I refuse to keep standing at your side if it means to see your hands stain with the blood of my people. You are a puppet, Caitlyn. The warlord has taken over your mind. The strings around your neck will tighten until it snuffs out the rest of your soul. And I will not be there to help you out of it this time." You don't care to hear her next words or even look her in the face as a last goodbye. Your Caitlyn died with her mother, buried beneath endless flower petals, safe and far away from the monster that appeared in her stead.

Your calm steps suddenly picked up the pace, and you found yourself running away, your frilly dress bunched up in your arms, chest heaving with the sobs you couldn't hide anymore. You ignored her call for your name, the demanding order pushing you much farther away until all you could hear were your panicked steps over the marble floor and the faint singing of the cicadas coming to a close.

Caitlyn stood there for the longest time, her stern gaze frozen in the direction you had disappeared in before she tipped her hat over her eyes and left.

You'll understand one day, she supposed.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

takin’ what’s not yours

chapter 1

tags: pre portal, hurt/comfort, angst, Stan & Ford needs a hug, reader too, emotional manipulation, everyone needs therapy but that’s not happening, mystery trio dynamics if you squint, billford?? hmmm

author note: guys i swear this was supposed to be a shameless porn threesome fic, but then Ford and Stan showed up with a whole suitcase of unresolved issues im so sorry

“You’re gonna change the world, Ford.”

“Only if you’re there to see it.”

***

Backsmore University. What a fucking place.

It wasn’t just the old brick buildings or the ivy creeping up the sides. Not really. It was the people. The crazy mix of the smartest, weirdest people you could imagine. You were one of them, no doubt. An absolute nerd with a lab coat on 90% of the time, a mess of papers and equations in your backpack and a head full of ideas and knowledge. But unlike Ford, you weren’t shy about showing it. You thrived in it, honestly. Lectures? Boring as hell, but the energy in the halls? The potential of every single person you met? Yeah, you were there for it.

One of these was Ford Filbrick Pines.

The ultimate BMU enigma, the textbook definition of nerdy. For some reason, his persona always made you think he was hiding some secret genius-level insanity behind his weirdly serious face. 

You’d laugh about it with your friends, the way he avoided talking to anyone. Classic “genius who’s too good for people” type.

He was everywhere, and yet, nowhere at all. Seriously, you could walk through the student lounge, see him hunched over a pile of research papers in the corner and just know you were witnessing something profound. He didn’t get what you were about at first.

You were funny, obnoxious even, always the first to crack a joke or make a ridiculous observation in class. Meanwhile Ford would just stare at you with those big eyes like he was trying to figure out if you were some kind of social experiment.

But then you started talking, typical nerds topics. About quantum physics, mathematics, about the mysteries of the universe, about everything. He’d scoff at how crazy your ideas were but then, just a second later, he'd be scribbling down some insane theory of his own that he wouldn’t even tell anyone else about. And you’d get it. You both would sit in the library, trading theories and arguing about the tiniest details of space-time.

You were the loud one, in Ford’s opinion, the one who could hold a conversation about quantum theory and drag Ford to a campus party all in the same breath. He’d grumble the whole way, saying it was a waste of time, rolling his eyes at your insistence that he needed a little break. He’d follow you through those sticky, badly lit student lounges, watching you laugh with people he’d probably never even look at twice.

These late nights when you’d drag him out to stargaze, pointing out constellations, half-naming stars you didn’t know, laughing when he’d shake his head, muttering about inaccurate astronomy. But he always went along with it, always ended up laying beside you on the grass, looking up at a sky he could never quite make sense of but was desperate to understand.

The graduation day. You clearly remember that one.

The sun was so bright you could barely keep your eyes open and everything felt like a dream. You had your cap crooked on your head (you were probably running late, as usual), your tassel swinging as you walked across the field, your friends beside you, shouting and celebrating like you were all in the fucking “after party of the year.” But then you turned and your eyes saw Ford, who was clutching that damn diploma like it was a golden ticket. He looked different somehow, like he’d finally unlocked a new version of himself. 

The Stanford Pines himself, recipient of Backsmore’s largest grant for his “eccentric” research, standing with his square academic cap, although it was comically slipping off his head. He looked out of place, like a scientist among a sea of partying students who could barely remember their names half the time.

So, you did what any good friend would do— you adjusted his cap for him, (plus you wanted an excuse to touch him), made some dumb joke about how he’d better not screw it up. He’d roll his eyes, but you knew he liked it. He needed it.

“Hey,” you grinned, “looking pretty fancy for someone who spends all their time talking to aliens or whatever.”

Ford smirked. “I’ve already got a date with a space-time continuum. But you can join if you want.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile didn’t leave.

***

Outside, the world has turned into a kind of cold, quiet hell. Snow falls in thick slow flakes, burying everything in a suffocating blanket of white. And Stan stands there, jacket pulled tight against his chest, staring up at the looming silhouette of his brother's house.

It's freezing, but Stan hardly feels the cold. Not really.

It’s quiet here, but it’s not peaceful. Silence feels heavy, like it’s watching him.

His thoughts are pulled back to a time that feels both recent and impossibly distant.

Ten years. Ten goddamn years. It’s been a decade since he's seen Ford’s face. Well, of course he doesn't expect Ford to look like something completely different, they’re twins after all. But at least now Stan knows what Ford would look like with a mullet.

Stanford was always the smart one, the golden kid, with big brains and hands that tinkered with mysteries beyond Stan’s understanding. And now. . . after all these years of silence, Ford finally decides he needs him. It’s a postcard, a single damn postcard, that drags Stan out of the muck and dumps him back here in this town, holding secrets and god knows what kind of twisted shit his brother’s got himself mixed up in.

After everything Ford did, after leaving, after barely even thinking to check in after all these years, Stan knows he shouldn't feel this way. But here he is. Waiting. Hoping. Hoping against hope, as if somehow, that tall figure would come striding down the snowy path, arms filled with books and that same serious look on his face. That same one he had as a kid when something big was on his mind. 

Stan shakes his head, letting out a breath that forms a small cloud in the icy air.

“Ten years, and you drag me here for what, Stanford?” he thinks.

Stan takes a deep breath, the cold seeps right down to his bones, but it’s not the winter’s chill that makes him shiver. His heart pounds as he stares at the weathered door in front of him, trying to shake off the surge of memories of the two of them, inseparable, back when they thought the world couldn’t touch them. But that was more than a lifetime ago.

He mutters to himself, “you haven’t seen your brother in over ten years. It’s okay. He’s family. . . He won’t bite.” or at least Stan hopes so and then he knocks, half-heartedly, already bracing himself.

The door swings open with a sudden jolt. Before Stan can even greet him, Ford’s voice booms through the biting air. "WHO IS IT?! Have you come to steal my eyes?!” his trembling hands grip a crossbow, pointed directly at Stan, and the first thing Stan notices are his brother’s eyes — wide and paranoid.

Stan looks at Ford, steps back a little, blinks, then blinks again. He tries to mask the pang of hurt as he lets out a shaky laugh, “Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome.”

Ford lowers the weapon slightly, narrowing his eyes suspiciously and then, as if finally recognizing the person standing before him, he blurts, “Stanley, did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?”

“Eh, hello to you too, pal.” Stan grumbles, but to his surprise, Ford grabs him by the clothes, yanking him roughly inside before he can even process it. "Ah!" he exclaims, stumbling forward, before the door slams shut behind them.

Ford, still skittish, shines a flashlight in Stan’s eyes, his fingers trembling as he holds it, blinding his brother. “What is this?!” Stan shoves the flashlight away.

Deep down, though, he tries to mask the pang that Ford’s mistrust strikes in him. What happened between you two? Mom would be so upset about their relationship. They used to share everything, trust each other without question, without even a word. Now here they are, stumbling through a reunion that feels like walking on broken glass.

"Sorry,” Stanford answers quickly, studying Stan’s face as if looking for lies hidden in his eyes. “I just had to make sure you weren’t. . . It’s nothing. Come in, come in.”

Stan follows him, the warmth he thought he’d feel upon seeing his brother slowly cooling into something he doesn’t want to admit that feels like disappointment. He watches Ford flit around the room, casting paranoid glances, clutching onto a battered old journal like it’s the only thing holding him together.

The shack is cluttered, papers scattered on the floor, strange devices cluttering the tables, books piled high. Wow, Stan thinks, the whole place screams my brother has been here alone too long.

It makes Stan's chest tighten.

“Uh, you gonna explain what’s going on here? you’re acting like mom after her tenth cup of coffee.” he is trying to defuse the atmosphere somehow, to make contact, but inside, his heart aches. He missed Ford; he missed him like hell. And to finally be here, standing right next to him, only to find him. . . like this. Seriously? It’s almost too much to bear.

Ford, ignoring the gentle jab, clutches the journal tighter. “Listen, there isn’t much time. I’ve made huge mistakes and I don’t know who I can trust anymore.” he doesn’t meet Stan’s eyes as he glances at a skeleton in the corner, twisting its head away from him.

Stan’s heart drops. This is bad, worse than he thought.

He steps forward, placing a hand on Ford’s shoulder, a touch he hopes can somehow bridge the miles and years between them. “Hey, easy there. Let’s talk this through, okay?”

But Ford pulls back, a strange, paranoid look in his eyes. His fingers trace the spine of the journal as he glances at Stan. “I have something to show you. Something you won’t believe.”

Stan's brow furrows, his curiosity piqued despite himself. What could it be? Some kind of super scientific bullshit that opens doors to parallel worlds? A time machine? A wormhole? Black hole made at home?

He looks at Ford, how the man hasn’t aged a day physically, but the exhaustion, the fear, the isolation, it all is painted on his brother’s face. It’s painful to see. It’s heartbreaking to think how Ford might have been living in this place, alone with nothing but his thoughts, trapped in his own world of mistakes and fears.

Stan manages a weak grin, masking his own fear for brothers sanity in his heart. "Look, I’ve been around the world, okay? Whatever it is, I’ll understand."

That twist in your chest, that awful, prickling feeling that something’s wrong.

You’re curled up at your kitchen table, sipping your tea with that kind of numbness you get when you’ve been overthinking too much. You told yourself to back off. He needed space. He needed time.

But when Stan’s eyes scan the giant, hulking portal machine in front of him, he can’t hide the bewilderment as he adds, “There’s nothing about this I understand.”

Ford’s hand wrapped tight protective around his journal. It’s the only one left, his last remaining key to understanding, to protecting everything he’s worked for. 

But now Stan stands across from him and his face clearly shows something what can be called betrayal.

Ford’s been distant. Secretive, even. The last time you two spoke, it was tense, full of anger and words you didn’t mean. It shouldn’t matter, you tell yourself, but the thought of him out there, alone, is like a weight pressing down on your chest.

Ford tries to explain as if Stan would understand. “It's a trans-universal gateway, a punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension. I created it to unlock the mysteries of the universe. But it could just as easily be harnessed for terrible destruction. That's why I shut it down and hid my journals, which explain how to operate it. There's only one journal left. . . and you are the only person I can trust to take it.” he steps forward, holding the journal out to Stan, eyes pleading. “I have something to ask of you: remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat?” Stan’s face shines with smile until he hears next shit his brother say. “Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as ya can! To the edge of the Earth! Bury it where no one can find it!”

I should’ve just stayed, I shouldn’t have left.

Your fingers curl around the warm mug, but sadly the heat doing nothing to soothe the anxiety creeping up your throat.

You set it down on the counter, trying to shake off the feeling. It’s just the storm, it’s just you being overdramatic. It doesn’t mean anything.

But the knot in your stomach refuses to untangle.

Something’s wrong.

“That’s it? You finally show your face after ten fucking years and all you’ve got to say is ‘get away’?”

Ford's hand drops and disappointment flashes across his face. “Stanley, you don't understand what I'm up against! What I've been through!”

“Oh, yeah?” Stan can't contain his emotions. How dare he?! “You don’t understand what I’ve been through! Three different prisons, Stanford! I’ve chewed my way out of a goddamn car trunk! Meanwhile, where have you been? Living it up in your fancy house in the woods! Selfishly hoarding your college money, because you only care about yourself!”

With a sigh, you stand up, setting the mug down on the table as your dog, a sweet, eager little spaniel, looks up at you with wide, curious eyes.

Ford's temper snaps because he can't believe what the fuck his brother is talking about. “I’m selfish? I’m selfish, Stanley? You ruined my shot at a real life! At my dream school! And here I am, giving you a chance to do something meaningful and you still can’t get it through your head!”

You glance over at your dog, a scruffy, affectionate spaniel with big brown eyes who’s been staring at you from the corner of the room.

Stan raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? You want this fucking book gone?” he yanks a lighter from his pocket, the flame flaring up as he flicks it. “Fine. I’ll get rid of it right fucking now.” he holds the journal over the flame, daring Ford to make a move.

You can’t shake this feeling, this urge to go find Ford, even if it means dragging yourself out into the goddamn blizzard.

“I’ll be back soon, girl,” you murmur, pulling on your coat. You don’t know what you’re looking for, don’t even know what you’re hoping to find. But you have to see him. You have to know

Ford’s eyes widen, panic flashing across his face. “No!” he lunges for it, reaching out, but Stan yanks it back. “You don’t understand!” Ford shouts, desperation pouring through him.

But Stan takes a step back, holding the journal dangerously close to the flame. “You want me to take it? Well, then, I’ll decide what to do with it.”

“My research!” they jerk the book back and forth, playing a fucked up game of tug of war, their yells echoing through the lab as they struggle over it.

You can’t shake the feeling, it’s like something’s dragging you forward, pulling you toward him, toward the unknown.

It’s late and the woods are fucking silent, which is weird for Gravity Falls. You’ve been running for what feels like hours, your chest burning, your mind tangled in a mess of thoughts you can’t quite shake. Every goddamn thing with Ford lately has been a disaster, hasn’t it? One fight after another, with him shutting down, disappearing into his head like he’s always been known to do.

The last words you shared with him are still fresh in your mind, “this is it, okay?! I can’t do this anymore.” he didn’t even fight back, just. . . stared at you like you were the problem. Maybe you were the problem, you don’t know, but damn it, you cared. You couldn’t just pretend like everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. That’s why you’re out here, because you’re not about to let him get swallowed up by whatever the hell is going on in that messed-up head of his.

And now, here you are, halfway to his place with nothing but your gut telling you that whatever was going down at Ford’s place was way worse than you thought.

When you enter, you hear the kind of noise— angry, violent, something breaking and you know Ford’s involved, you just know it. You don’t care if you two haven’t spoken in days, if things between you and him are a mess of unsaid things and frustrated silences. He’s been acting so off, and now, hearing the absolute mayhem erupting inside, you’re terrified.

The sounds are loud, shouting voices, furniture crashing, angry grunts. Your heart fucking stops as you push the door open so fast it slams against the wall. You’re not thinking, not caring that maybe you shouldn’t be here, but it’s too late to stop now.

At first, you think you've completely lost your mind, because you're seeing two Ford Pines. And then you think, either you're the one who's gone crazy, or Ford has, because he's literally fighting with himself.

But as you take a breath, both Fords turn to look at you, and that’s when it hits you: this isn’t just some bizarre mirror trick. There’s Ford and then there’s someone who looks a whole lot like him, but is definitely, absolutely not him.

“What the fuck is going on?” your voice rings out much louder than you meant, but you don’t care. Your heart is pounding way too hard and your feet are planted, legs shaking with adrenaline and worry. You’ve seen Ford in a mess of emotions, but never like this. Not this bad.

The second the door slams open, both of them freeze, but it’s the mulleted guy who speaks first. “So you got yourself a chick now, huh? Thought you were too busy playing goddamn Einstein to bother with things like that.” his angry eyes narrow at you, and you’re not sure if it’s anger or. . . jealousy? Frustration? You don’t have time to decode it.

This guy have absolutely the same features, same nose, same intense, serious brow, but his whole look is just rougher, like he’d been living a life Ford would never survive.

And your blood boils.

“No, fuck that,” you snap, glaring at mullet-man. “You don’t talk about me like that.” then you glance at Ford. “Ford, why the fuck didn’t you tell me about—”

but you get interrupted by Ford’s clone, Ford’s twin, whatever. “Name’s Stan. Stanley Pines. The brother of this genius. Bet he’s never even mentioned me, huh?”

Your stomach churns at the words. Fuck that, no way. This isn’t about you, this is about Ford.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” now you are shivering not only from the winter cold, but also from the absolute chaos of what is happening. You turn to Ford, eyes desperate, desperate to know, to understand, to find answers. “What’s going on? Where have you been? I couldn’t get ahold of you. You just. . . left. And I—” you stop yourself, biting your lip. This isn’t the time to scream at him for all the unanswered questions, for all the shit that’s been left hanging. Not yet.

Ford doesn’t seem to get it. His eyes flick between you and Stan like he’s trying to piece it together, but nothing adds up. "I don’t— what are you doing here? We— we said goodbye," his voice is strained, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“No, Ford. You said goodbye! You fucking disappeared! I don’t even know why, and I— fuck, just explain yourself, okay?” you can’t keep the desperation out of your voice anymore.

Stan is watching with his arms crossed over his chest, and he still doesn't look too pleased, but it's not just anger. Although you don't have time to deal with his point of view. You need answers. You need Ford to talk.

Ford opens his mouth to say something, but then the anger, the frustration, all of it just snaps. "I didn’t want you involved in this. . .  anyone involved. This, this thing with the portal, you wouldn’t understand—"

You don’t even let him finish. “Stop. Just stop, yeah? You don’t get to just disappear like that, Ford. I don’t care about the journal or the goddamn portal anymore. I care about you. Why the hell are you so fucking determined to push everyone away?”

Ford tries to get himself together, though he looks like he’s been caught with every secret he’s ever buried. “This— this doesn’t concern you, alright? Just— just leave, go, this is between me and him.”

Stan scoffs. “Oh, yeah, classy, Sixer. Let’s bring her in just to shove her right back out, huh? Really hitting your all-time high here.”

“Shut up,” his brother snaps.

But Stan’s just as stubborn, glaring right back. “No, I don’t think I will. Not when you’ve dragged some poor girl into this whole shitshow. Real nice, by the way, real nice! Does she even know what you’ve been up to, huh? All the crap you’re into?”

“I said shut up, Stanley. I shouldn’t have called you— God, I regret calling you! You’re just here to make things worse, like always.”

The words land harder than you thought they would. It's not like you didn’t know Ford could be an asshole, but hearing him say that directly to his brother hits a nerve, like a punch to the gut. 

You see Stan’s face change, his mouth drops open, his eyes so wide, like he’s been slapped across the face. He looks like he’s been gutted. It takes his breath away, because he didn't expect to hear this ten years later, and it's obvious that Ford's words hit him too deeply.

However, your own heart drop to your stomach too. Fuck. You didn’t know what was worse — the fact that they were tearing into each other or the fact that Ford could say something like that to his own brother. It’s too much, even for you. You want to scream at Ford, demand that he stop, that this isn’t helping anyone, but you’re paralyzed.

But Stan’s hurt turns into something else and he spits back, “You think I wanted this, Ford?! You think I wanted to be the fuck-up brother?! You’re the one who dragged me into this whole goddamn mess now. You asked me to come! You! So don’t go acting all high and mighty like I’m the one screwing your life up right now!”

And then, in that moment, everything goes to hell.

Before you know it, they’re back at each other’s throats. Ford lunges forward, grabbing the journal, but Stan’s not letting go, the damn thing passed back and forth between them like it’s a live wire, all anger and resentment boiled down to this one book as each of them trying to get a hand on it. 

You rush forward, hands outstretched to push them apart, anything to stop this from going too far, but in the heat of it all, Ford jerks back, elbow flying and you feel it land in your ribs, knocking the wind right out of you and it really fucking hurts. The pain shocks you so hard you gasp.

Ford’s eyes snap to you instantly, widening in horror. “Oh my god— I’m s-so sorry! are you alri—“ he reaches toward you, himself can’t believe he just did that to you, but he barely gets a word out before Stan’s fist slams into his jaw.

This time, Stan hits so hard, putting all his resentment into the punch that Ford stumbles dangerously close to the portal, which is buzzing. You watch in absolute horror as his body goes too close, the fucking thing flickering and humming like a beast about to devour him whole and for a heart-stopping second, Ford looks like he’s going to fall right in.

You’re out of your mind in an instant as you scramble to your feet, adrenaline spiking, crazy fear in your eyes. Without thinking, you reach out, grabbing Ford’s arm, pulling him back, using every ounce of strength you have to pull him back. “Ford, no! Get back!”

Stan’s standing there, frozen for a second, scared himself by how far he had come. His chest rises and falls in heavy breaths and his face is fucking pale as he stares at his brother’s body half in portal, but the guilt is written all over Stan’s face. His bruised hand is still raised, like he wants to hit Ford again, but it’s shaking. Did he. . . did he just. . ? God, he didn’t mean—

“You!” you scream, still tugging Ford away from the edge, but the portal’s pulling like a magnet and you’re fighting with everything you have. “Help me, now!”

Snapped out of his daze, Stanley rushes over, grabbing Ford. You tug harder, your muscles screaming as Ford’s body gives a last push toward the rift, but finally, finally, together, you both heave him back, dragging him away from the portal and out of that damn pull. His feet hit solid ground and you both just collapse.

You’re gasping for breath, hands still fisted in Ford’s coat, both of you holding on like if you let go, he’ll slip right back toward that nightmare.

Ford’s breathing heavily, disoriented, his hands gripping your arms in fear. 

Stan’s still looking at Ford, his face torn up because he doesn’t know whether to say sorry, to yell or to just walk the fuck out to not ruin something else. There’s realisation in his eyes and, for the first time, Stanley is seeing what his anger’s capable of. That punch could’ve been the end of everything.

“Brother. . .” Stan’s voice trembles. “I didn’t mean to—”

You don’t let him finish. “No, you didn’t mean to. None of you meant to,” you snap, but it’s not anger in your tone, it’s damn fear, panic, it’s this deep fucking worry. You turn to Ford. “But this shit needs to stop, okay? Right now. Please.”

The silence between you, Ford and Stan stretches out as if it’s some aftermath of a bomb going off. Ford’s still on the floor, breathing hard and it’s not the near-death experience that’s fucking him up, but the bitter realisation of what could have really happened if that damn portal had taken him in.

“So that’s it, huh? After ten goddamn years, this is how you treat me? Almost shove me into a portal like it’s nothing?”

Stan opens his mouth, but Ford isn’t letting him get a word in, he’s too riled up now, all that anger and pride churning in him, boiling over. “Do you even understand what could’ve happened? What you almost did? You haven’t changed one bit, Stanley. I should’ve known better. Should’ve known you’d just fuck everything up, again. Just like you did back then.” Ford’s voice sounds colder than the winter outside. “Remember the science fair, Stan? You destroyed my experiment because you were too fucking selfish to think about anyone but yourself. I could’ve had everything. You took that from me, my chance at West Coast Tech, my chance at anything and then you have the nerve to make me the villain?”

It hits Stan harder than any punch ever could. Stan doesn’t even blink, his whole body stiff, shoulders slump.

His mouth opens like he wants to fight back, but there’s no fight left in him, the words are stuck in his throat. He doesn’t say shit, trying to process everything at once. But there’s nothing to process. Ford’s right.

“Yeah, I get it,” Stan mutters, holding back tears. “I’m a fucking failure. I know that, Sixer. Always have been. I’m sorry.”

But then he does the one thing you didn’t think he would. He turns around, slow, defeated, too fucking tired to argue and fight anymore.

And just like that, he starts walking away. But deep inside Stanley is crying like a child, expecting Ford to stop him. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t say a word, but he wishes Ford would care, at least once. 

You’re fucking shocked, feeling helpless rage and anger, heart pounding with confusion and disbelief. You thought. . . well, you don’t even know what you thought! That they’d hug it out? Have some big, tearful reunion? Not really! But this mess of accusations and bitterness and old scars is so fucked up. Completely and utterly fucked up.

Ford stands there, all silent, watching Stan’s back as he walks away, not moving an inch. The pride, the stubbornness, the wall he’s built around himself. Oh god, that guy is so fucking smart he doesn’t know how to feel anymore.

You look back at Ford, at his rigid stance, he won’t even move, won’t even try to call Stan back. You can’t believe it and something snaps in you, something fierce and hot because you’re done with all this bullshit.

“You’re not even gonna ask him to stay? Fuck, what is wrong with you both?”

Ford’s face tightens, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t even flinch. And it drives you insane, watching him cling to that pride, that goddamn logic of his that’s somehow more important than his own damn family. No fucking way is this ending like this. Not after everything you’ve just seen, not with Ford standing there like a goddamn statue, too proud or too blind or too stupid to do anything but let his brother walk out.

You storm past Ford, ignoring his surprised look as you push past him, practically running after Stan. “wait!” you shout. But Stan doesn’t stop, doesn’t even glance over his shoulder.

“Stan!”

“What?” he snaps at you.

You step closer. “You’re not leaving,” you say, staring him down like it’s a challenge.

He lets out a dry, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “Trust me, sweetheart, it’s better if I do. I don’t belong here.” he jerks his thumb back in Ford’s direction. “Pretty clear I’m not welcome.”

“Bullshit,” you respond, what makes Stanley raise an eyebrow, looking a little surprised at your bluntness. “I don’t care if he’s too proud to say it, but you’re his brother— I mean, you think this is how family’s supposed to be? You think he doesn’t want you here?”

“Look, kid, you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. Me ‘n’ Ford? We’re a lost cause. Always been. Ain’t no point in tryin' to fix it now.”

“Oh, come on! So you fuck up, he fucks up— you’re both disasters. That doesn’t mean you just give up. I don’t care if it’s been years or what the hell happened between you two. You don’t just fuckin’ quit on family. That’s not how this works.”

Stan’s mouth twitches and he looks like he’s gonna bite back with something snarky, but he doesn’t. He just lets out this tired sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t wanna hurt him more than I already have. I always mess things up. I’ll just make it worse. So what’s the point?”

You take a deep breath, trying to rein in the frustration pounding through you. “The point is, you’re his brother! And if you don’t stay, if you don’t try to work this out, you’ll both regret it. You can’t just leave him to deal with this shit alone.” 

Stanley opens his mouth, ready to throw out another excuse, but you cut him off.

“Look, Stan,” you change the intonation to softer one, “I don’t know the whole story here. I don’t know what went down between you two and I’m sure as hell not saying it doesn’t hurt like hell. But this whole thing you guys are doing? Pushing each other away? It’s not gonna make anything better.“

“Fine, fine. But don’t expect me to be the hero, alright? I ain’t got no magic words to fix this shit.” Stan sighs and looks down like he’s too damn tired for this conversation.

When you and Stan make your way back inside, you see Ford still there with his back to you.

Stanley huffs out a laugh, trying to shake off the tension. “So, Sixer, when’d ya start collectin’ all this junk? don’t tell me you got a whole damn museum in here.”

Suddenly, Ford huffs a dry laugh that sounds a little bitter coming from someone like him. “Wouldn’t expect you to get it. Takes more than a few brain cells to appreciate real science.”

Stan’s smile falters, well, it was pretty rude, but he thinks he deserved it. You and Stan share a look, but before you can say anything, Stan just shrugs it off, letting out a forced chuckle, his voice trying to stay light. “Ha, yeah, same ol’ Ford. Ya always had a way with words, didn’t ya?”

There is only silence in response, but when you come a little closer, you finally take in the sight of Ford holding a goddamn crossbow.

Wait, what?

Your eyes go wide and the first thing that hits you is the cold sweat creeping up your spine.

Stan and you freeze. Confusion mixing with a little fear as you both look at Ford, What the hell is going on with him? Since when does Ford carry a crossbow around like it’s no big deal?

Stan raises an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. “Hey, bro, you planning on hunting something tonight or just ready to, I dunno, take out some deer in the backyard?”

[xx-j4nu5-c4t5-xx]

Sirensskai [Part 1/2]

DISCLAIMER: Please do not use this as an excuse to harass or track down anyone mentioned here.

Thank you to @fleabuki for helping me find and compile this information.

Kai, known by their Tumblr username sirensskai, has a history of overstepping boundaries, displaying incredibly unhealthy attachments to fictional characters, and refusing to cease or dial back their behavior when confronted. This post is meant not as an attack on them, but as a plea for them to make changes before these behaviors hurt both Kai themselves, and the people around them, any further.

Kai has a reputation for making people in the community deeply uncomfortable, and is known by many as simply the person with an incredibly strange attachment to Ripp Grunt. Several artists, as well as other creators and people in the community, have blocked Kai, citing their constant obsessive remarks as off putting and distressing.

Kai is well known for engaging in self-shipping, but this was never really the root of the problem. There is nothing inherently wrong with self-shipping, especially in a game as open to anything as The Sims. However, Kai takes this to a fanatical, obsessive extent, to the point where almost all of their Tumblr posts are about him, with many of these posts mentioning that this is a serious coping mechanism for Kai. They frequently express their struggles with being social and with hypersexuality.

Kai has proven time and time again to be unable to refrain from talking about their self-shipping, even when they know it is making others uncomfortable. They were banned from LazyDuchesses’s Discord server a few months ago, for repeatedly sharing NSFW Character AI chats, even after moderators explicitly told them to stop. Many members in the server believed the ban was long overdue. These sexual messages were in channels that could be viewed by any of the members of the Discord, including minors.

Kai has also shown that they use Ripp, and their perceived relationship with him, as a coping mechanism, to the point of being concerning. They mention in several posts and messages that they feel that they only exist to love him, or that fantasizing about him is the way that they process their trauma.

Kai was recently in a Discord server with a fifteen year old, who was new to the community and was hoping to make friends. Kai, at the time, was around nineteen, and had a history of discussing NSFW topics in Discord servers to the point that moderators told them to stop. When the child asked if he could discuss NSFW topics with Kai in private DMs, Kai agreed.

Screenshots show that Kai was aware of this person’s age, and that others in the server found it odd and creepy.

Kai was shown to make lewd remarks back and forth with this minor. Though I do not have evidence that the sexual remarks were ever directed at the fifteen year old, they were made in conversations with him, usually with Kai sexualizing Ripp. Kai is shown to react to the fifteen year old making sexual/inappropriate jokes with praise and encouragement.

The child expressed that this arrangement made him feel uncomfortable, and that he saw Kai as someone older, not as an equal. He has decided that the community made him feel unsafe and has decided to leave, and I wish him the best of luck. I want to offer a sincere apology that we, as a collective group, let anyone behaving like this go unchecked for so long.

[babsharrison]

Safe Haven - John Wick

(Chapter Seven)

Pairing | John Wick x Original Fem! Character

Summary | In search of a breath in his tumultuous life, John Wick finds himself in a charming bookstore where he meets a sweet and welcoming woman. As they grow closer, John questions whether she can love him despite the dark secrets he carries. While battling the shadows of his past, he must protect the love that is blossoming and discover if hope and redemption are truly possible.

Word Count | 3.0k

Trigger Warning: This scene contains themes of intimidation, unwanted physical proximity, verbal harassment, and implied violence. Reader discretion is advised.

A/N | I'm really excited about the direction I'm taking with the fic. I hope you guys enjoy it too! 🥰

Previous chapter!

John stood motionless, but every fiber of his being was on alert, his eyes fixed on Marco's. His appearance there was more than just a coincidence, and both of them knew it. Marco held John's gaze, as if it were a silent challenge, a reminder of how close he still was to the shadows of the past.

Mia, however, seemed oblivious to the silent confrontation between them, and a soft smile appeared on her face as she thanked him for the purchase. "I hope you enjoy the book, Mr. Vitale," she said, gesturing to the volume with the kindness that was her trademark.

Marco smiled with a touch of malice, and before stepping away, he gently took Mia's hand, leaning in to plant a kiss on its back. "The pleasure was all mine, Miss," he said, his voice laden with calculated charm. "I hope we can meet again."

That gesture made something ignite in John's eyes, but he did not react. Instead, he remained silent, his expression now cold and almost impassive, though the look he gave Marco was sharp as a blade.

Marco stepped back, giving John one last glance, a smile full of intent lingering on his lips, before disappearing into the park. His presence still seemed to weigh, even from a distance, and the air around them became thick with an invisible but palpable tension.

When Marco finally disappeared, Mia turned to John, her eyes shining with curiosity. "Quite the gentleman. Do you know him?"

John looked away, his face even colder after Mia's comment. He kept his tone dry and direct, almost as if trying to end the conversation before it even began.

"I know enough to say you should keep your distance," he replied, his voice low but heavy with seriousness, causing Mia's smile to falter.

She stared at him, surprised by his intense reaction and sudden distance. It was the first time she had seen John like this—a rigid and impenetrable figure, almost as though he were building an invisible wall around himself. Her response was only a restrained nod, realizing the importance that warning seemed to have for him.

For a moment, silence hung between them, thick and uncomfortable, until John, without offering further explanation, gave a slight nod and walked away toward the opposite side of the makeshift bookstore. Mia watched him with mixed confusion and unease growing in her chest.

Even though she didn’t understand the reason for the warning, she felt a strange sense of security in his seriousness—a side of him that rarely showed. And although she couldn’t guess what John was hiding behind that look, one thing was clear: he carried, in silence, a weight much heavier than anyone she had ever known.

Mia followed John's stiff movement as he walked away through the park's grass, his back straight, almost impenetrable in his distant posture. He didn’t look back, and the sound of his footsteps was swallowed by the gentle breeze that danced among the leaves. Watching him slowly disappear among the trees, a bitter feeling took over her.

She suddenly felt alone, as though the brief moment of closeness they had shared had been nothing more than an illusion, unraveled too quickly. A sharp pang of hurt throbbed in her chest as the question echoed in her mind: What had she done to deserve such coldness?

Mia turned to the stack of disorganized books on the small table, trying to distract herself with the familiar covers and spines. The touch on the worn volumes should have been comforting, something that always brought her silent peace, but now everything seemed to lose its luster. She let out a soft sigh, her gaze drifting into emptiness, trying to shake off the persistent discomfort that John's presence—and sudden absence—had left behind.

Days turned into weeks, and with a certain heaviness in her chest, Mia noticed that John no longer came to the bookstore. At first, she tried not to pay it too much attention, but over time, she realized she missed that unusual customer, the few words, and that deep look that seemed to carry a silent burden. Every time the door opened, her heart hesitated, hoping to see him cross the threshold and give her that almost imperceptible nod.

Despite everything, Mia felt deeply grateful for the success of the event. New customers arrived every day, drawn by the welcoming atmosphere of the bookstore, and Tom seemed to share her gratitude, with a satisfied smile that rarely left his face. But even with the positive movement, Mia found herself distracted, unable to shake a certain thought. Every time she tried to relax and enjoy the moment, the memory of that man returned—how he had walked away through the park with a coldness that still unsettled her.

She wanted to ignore it. After all, he wasn’t anyone special, just a customer. But it was strange how the memory of that encounter insisted on lodging itself in her mind, making her heart race in a way she considered foolish. It was almost as if his absence left behind an unease. She shook her head as though she could push the thoughts away, but they always returned, stronger, leaving behind curiosity and a slight desire to see him again, even though she would never admit it to herself.

As the days passed, the restlessness grew. With every new opening of the door, her eyes involuntarily turned, hoping—or perhaps fearing—to find him there. And while she tried to convince herself that he was just any other person, the silent interest continued to grow inside her, like something delicate and unexpected that she didn’t quite know how to handle.

On the other side of the city, John moved with the same silence, but in a much more hostile setting. He had tried to read the book Mia said was her favorite, as if those pages were the only bridge still connecting him to her. The idea that Marco Vitale or any other dangerous man had come close to Mia filled him with a mixture of rage and, to his own surprise, jealousy. He didn’t know where that feeling came from, but there was something about Mia, the way she cared for the bookstore, that he felt was meant only for him—a peace she had unexpectedly brought into his life.

The danger, however, had come too close, and John knew he needed to pull away to protect what, in some way, had become important to him. He moved through the shadows of the alley, senses alert, as the muffled voices of Marco Vitale’s goons cut through the heavy night air.

"You thought you could show up here and leave unscathed, Wick?" one voice mocked from the darkness, dripping with contempt. One of the goons raised his weapon, the threat clear in his eyes.

John didn’t respond. His eyes focused on the thug in front of him, quickly assessing the situation, planning his next moves with near-calculating precision. In one second, a snap echoed through the alley—a sudden move, a precise strike. The nearest goon collapsed, the weapon falling from his hands with a dull thud.

The second man hesitated, but it was too late. John was already in motion, moving like a shadow. In seconds, he had subdued the thug, holding him at gunpoint and pressing the truth with a firm, threatening voice:

"Tell me where Marco is, and maybe you’ll get out of here today."

The thug gasped for air, fear blatantly written on his face. “You… you don’t know?” His voice trembled, and his pale face glistened with sweat under the faint light of the alley. With John’s unyielding gaze fixed on his eyes, the thug gave in, mumbling what he knew. “Vitale… he wants to settle scores with… with that girl… the one from the bookstore…”

The words fell like stones. John froze for a moment, his eyes hardening. Marco was going after Mia. She had probably caught Marco’s attention during their encounter at the bookstore—and upon noticing John’s silent interest in Mia, he now saw her as a vulnerability, something to be exploited or eliminated. John knew he had no time to waste.

With a swift motion, he shot the thug, with no chance for pursuit, and disappeared into the shadows.

At the bookstore, Mia was finishing the last stack of books, the shop now shrouded in a dimness that seemed heavier and more unsettling. As she locked the door, a muffled sound echoed through the shelves, and she quickly turned, her heart racing. There, in front of her, was a man she had never seen before. His gaze was a mix of disdain and perverse pleasure, and the smile he gave was cold and unsettling, sending a chill down her spine.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady but feeling a chill spread through her body.

He simply smiled, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, carrying a nearly palpable malice. “Closed? Oh, I know. But I thought we could… extend the hours,” he said, taking a step forward, his gaze predatory.

Mia felt a lump form in her throat, her heart quickening. “Please, leave,” she repeated, her voice trembling, instinctively taking a step back. But the man continued to approach slowly, and she noticed he was watching her with unsettling intensity, like a hunter about to strike.

“Don’t be so rude,” he murmured, reaching out to grab something from the counter—an almost casual movement, but one that made Mia step back even further. Every inch of distance felt precious, and she felt like an animal cornered. He kept moving forward, his expression too relaxed, making everything even more unnerving.

She tried to think quickly of an escape, but he was already in front of the door, blocking any chance of fleeing. “I said we’re closed,” she repeated, almost whispering, her courage wavering with every word.

The intruder let out a low, cold laugh, stepping closer. “Relax, girl. I just want to talk. Is that so hard?”

Mia felt a knot form in her throat, her heart racing. “Please, leave,” she repeated, her voice trembling as she instinctively took a step back. But the man continued to move closer, and she noticed how he watched her with a disconcerting intensity, like a hunter about to strike.

“Don’t be so unfriendly,” he murmured, reaching out to grab something from the counter—a casual move, but it made Mia retreat even further. Every inch of distance felt precious, and she felt like an animal cornered. He kept advancing, his expression too relaxed, which made everything even more unsettling.

She tried to think quickly of an escape, but he was already in front of the door, blocking any chance of fleeing. “I said we’re closed,” she repeated, almost in a whisper, her courage wavering with each word.

The intruder let out a low, cold laugh, moving closer. “Relax, girl. I just want to talk. Is that so hard?”

Mia took another step back until her back touched the counter, with no more room to retreat. “Please, just go,” she insisted, her tone now a plea masked by authority, but he only watched her, relentless.

“Do you work here alone?” he asked, ignoring any trace of formality or boundaries. He got so close that Mia could smell cigarette smoke on his clothes, making her feel a wave of nausea and panic.

She tried to move to the side, attempting to escape, but he stretched out his arm, blocking her path. His eyes were fixed on her, as if testing her, relishing the terror that was beginning to dominate her gaze.

Mia clenched her fists, trying to control the trembling in her hands. Her heart pounded so loudly that she could barely hear her own thoughts. “If you don’t leave now, I… I’ll call the police,” she threatened, though her voice betrayed the desperation she was trying to hide.

He laughed again, as if amused by her words. “Really? Good luck with that.” His voice dripped with mockery, and he reached out to touch a loose strand of hair by her face, causing her to instinctively pull back, though there was nowhere else to retreat.

Mia’s throat was dry, fear paralyzing her, and her mind was spinning. She felt her breath quicken, her heart racing, the panic growing with every passing second. She knew she had no strength to push him away and that she was completely alone. The environment that once felt like a refuge now seemed like a suffocating prison.

Suddenly, a distant, heavy sound broke the silence, and the figure of the man turned for a moment, just enough for Mia to notice a shadow in the doorway. In an instant, John was there, and the relief she felt was so intense that she could barely contain a shaky sigh.

John entered slowly, his eyes fixed on the man with deadly intensity, his face impassive and unshaken. He didn’t say a word, but the coldness in his gaze spoke for itself. With a smooth, but firm movement, he placed himself between Mia and the intruder.

The invader looked at John, his earlier confidence beginning to fade in the face of John’s threatening presence. “Who the hell are you?” the man asked, trying to regain control of the situation.

John tilted his head slightly but remained silent, and the stranger quickly realized that any move he made would be a mistake. John took a step forward, forcing the intruder to retreat another step until his back hit the shelves, with no room to escape.

The man gave a derisive, challenging smile, eyeing John up and down. “You know, you seem pretty brave for someone who hangs around a bookstore, Boogeyman…” he taunted, his tone dripping with disdain, trying to break John’s unshakeable calm.

John narrowed his eyes, his posture rigid as steel. Slowly, he took off his jacket and placed it on the counter next to him, revealing a discreet holster on his belt. “Last chance to leave in one piece,” he said, his voice low and controlled, with no trace of threat—just the promise of something inevitable.

The henchman laughed and lunged at John, but before his punch could land, John moved. In an instant, he grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it behind his back, making him groan in pain. Without giving him time to react, John spun him around and landed a precise blow to the back of his knee, forcing him to drop to the ground with a grunt.

Mia, leaning against the counter, watched everything with a mixture of fascination and fear. Each of John’s movements was calculated, like a dangerous dance—quick and precise. The man tried to get up, but John held him firmly, his voice now slightly more intense. “Who sent you here?” he asked, giving no room for excuses.

The henchman, panting and panicked, mumbled something incoherent. John abruptly released him, only to knock him down again with a direct blow to the face. When the man fell, dazed, John grabbed him by the collar and lifted him, forcing him to look at him.

“I asked who sent you,” John repeated, his tone threatening. At the man’s hesitant silence, John let him go without ceremony, letting him fall to the ground with force. The intruder, terrified, looked at John and finally gave in, revealing the name Marco Vitale and the order to attack Mia.

John approached the henchman, each step a silent reminder of the imminent danger. His eyes remained steady, as cold as blades, while the cornered man tried to disguise his panic. John stopped, close enough to intimidate him, but with a deadly calm that threatened to explode at any moment.

“You… you’re not going to do anything to me here, are you?” The henchman tried to maintain a challenging tone, but his voice came out shaky, revealing his fear.

Mia, still leaning against the wall, watched everything without being able to look away. John’s presence, usually so enigmatic, now seemed like an impenetrable wall between her and the danger. But the way he stared at the man in front of him—the ruthless firmness in his eyes—brought out something she hadn’t imagined. This was a side of John she had never dreamed of seeing: a patient, calculating predator, capable of deciding life and death with a simple look. She was terrified.

Taking a deep breath, John leaned toward the henchman, and for a moment, Mia thought he was going to end the man’s life right there. However, without breaking his gaze, John stepped back. His decision to spare the intruder seemed to reflect both caution and consideration for Mia.

“Leave,” John murmured, his voice low and threatening. “And tell Marco he made a mistake. He’ll only get one chance to fix it.”

The henchman didn’t wait for more words; stumbling, he ran out, breathing heavily, while Mia watched, still frightened, as his figure disappeared out the door.

The silence that followed was heavy. Mia remained frozen, absorbing what had just happened, her eyes still wide. The fact that John hadn’t eliminated the man relieved her for a moment, but the controlled brutality he had shown now seemed to weigh in the air around her.

John, sensing the shift in atmosphere, approached her slowly, not looking directly at her. “Mia…” he called, but she barely reacted, still processing what she had just seen.

“It’s… it’s too dangerous for you to stay here now,” he said, carefully choosing his words. “You need to come with me, at least until I can ensure your safety.”

She nodded silently, looking away from him, trying to hide the mix of fear and shock that her face revealed. The trust she once had in facing him seemed to have faded; now, she was quiet and withdrawn, her hands slightly trembling. John felt the weight of that change, and a hint of regret crossed his gaze. He knew that his presence usually calmed those under his protection—but this time, he felt like the very threat he had been trying to avoid.

Without saying anything more, Mia gathered her things and followed him, keeping a cautious distance. Every time he tried to look at her, her eyes would avert, as if his presence was now hard to bear. John felt his fists tighten, uncomfortable with the invisible barrier that seemed to have appeared between them.

[delta-lethonomia]

ok depresso week is over, back to deliberate hyperfixation on bg3:

It is absolutely wild to me that people take Astarion to the foursome with the drow twins (romanced, spawn, post-cazador) and are shocked, shocked I tell you, that he has a bad time. But it leads me to think that there's an interesting conversation to be had here about morality applied to video games. I'm going to be using what's a bit of a strawman tbh, what I would consider an archetypical, "good person" gamer for this niche example.

(3k essay under the cut about irl morals vs video game behavior, my take on why Astarion agrees to the orgy, beating the dead horse of Astarion discourse now that the fandom has cooled off enough I might not get flogged for it, and all my election stress being translated into an increasingly bitchy narrative voice that I hope is at least mildly amusing.)

"Good Person Gamer" romances Astarion. They're probably female, which I am mentioning exclusively so I can turn that into "Good Girl Gamer" 😏, or G3. G3 picks nice dialogue options. G3 tries to support their companions, and finds diplomatic and moral solutions to problems. G3 saved the tieflings. G3 still romances Astarion because he's hot, and vulnerable, and it's not like he forces you to be evil - he just complains a bit when you save kittens stuck in trees, but you get that approval back anyway just by being nice to him. Talk him out of Ascension and you've proven to yourself he's got a good soul under all that attitude anyway. He'd healed! You banged on his grave! It's all good now!

The brothel is fun. The drow twins are hot. It's always fun when games lets you do spicy things like have threesomes and orgies! We're sex-positive! Look, the drow twins said they love their job! It's totally fine! G3, as most people, probably does not do these things in real life, but that's the fun in video games: you get to be someone you're not.

And then Astarion noticeably dissociates. He throws himself in the center and lavishes everyone with attention; he's a professional, you know. Even an unromanced Tav/Durge notices something's off, and Astarion replies something along the lines of "you don't have the right to look at me like that," presumably with worry, distress, or sympathy.

G3 is upset. They did everything right - they didn't want to hurt him, and Astarion himself said he wanted this. Why couldn't they stop midway through and remind him that he doesn't have to hurt himself? Why couldn't they talk about it afterwards, and clear the air? LARIAN WHY DO YOU HURT ME

Now, to all the G3's out there: if you were dating a person with extensive sexual trauma, having been raped literally thousands of times, would you suggest having a threesome/orgy? With prostitutes, if that's better or worse? Putting them on the spot before your mutual friends? Would you wait a few years to mention the idea, or would you do so only weeks/months into a relationship? Your first "I love you" might have only been yesterday.

And most people, I think, would say "No." Writing that scenario outside of the lens of a video game makes it sound insane - of course you wouldn't! I'm not saying that they should never have group sex or that it can't be done, but I think most people instinctively get how that would be a shitty thing to do in that context, especially without discussing it in depth beforehand and making sure you're both on the same page.

And this is the meat of the issue. Most gamers play good-aligned characters: there's a strong culture of wanting to play the hero and saving the day. But tied into that cultural monomyth, in society itself, is the idea that sex is a reward at the end. You get sex at the end of the romance arc. The date where you have sex is one of many milestones, and you're not really dating if you haven't done it yet. Some people don't have sex until their wedding night. Threesome scenes especially are a video game classic: old-school God of War, for instance, had a hidden room in every game with scantily-clad women just waiting for you to button-mash away, a little treat for the player's keen puzzle-solving abilities.

Not all romances in BG3 have sex or end with sex, (some even start with sex), but that is because BG3's character writing tries to ground itself in reality despite being a medium people utilize for fantasy. Role-playing a "good" character is mostly easy: you typically know which dialogue choice is the ethical choice, can chide Astarion for being racist, can save the numerous children with moral ease - and BG3 rewards this: a good playthrough is more fleshed out, because you haven't killed off half the cast. You get better gear. You have more allies, better allies. You know what to do.

Or, well, mostly. BG3 is kind of special imo because even the good choices have a lot of nuance, where two people can make different choices but still feel like they both picked the most ethical one. Take Shadowheart's parents, for example: they beg for her to let them go so they can die and save their daughter. Saving them leaves Shadowheart in Shar's clutches - she will experience pain for the rest of her life, but regains her parents, and with luck, Selûne will claim her soul when she dies. Kill them, and Shadowheart is free - truly free, to live her life on her own terms, free from Shar and Selûne both. Both can be the ethical choice, depending on your morals.

"But if Astarion didn't want to have the threesome, the game should have let me stop midway through/made it clearer that this would happen. He said no before Cazador - why couldn't he say no again? Why would Larian put me in this position and make me feel bad when I thought everything was alright? I wanted to be good and have fun, not feel like I pressured my boyfriend." - Strawman G3.

Because BG3 treats it's characters like people. Multiple companions make choices outside of what the player character decides for them - Shadowheart's decision to save or kill her parents, kill or save the Nightsong, or Gale, to go for the crown or not depend on what events they are there to witness personally, or can be informed by conversations you have in camp about unrelated issues. You can fully let them make their own decisions and be surprised each time as they develop into different people with each successive playthrough. A lot of people are surprised when Gale goes for the Crown of Karsus without their input. In my last multiplayer playthrough, we could not prevent Shadowheart from wanting to kill the Nightsong, and so we were forced to kill her.

Astarion is not like that. The way he talks about Ascension changes depending on your relationship. If you're merely friends, he acknowledges it's probably a bad idea, even, in direct contrast to the somewhat obsessive and frightening way he pursues it in a romantic relationship. But Astarion can't decide what to do at the end: he has no hidden point system, no hidden flags - he will always pursue Ascension even if he knows it's a bad idea, because Astarion does not trust himself, has no experience trusting himself, and needs help. As counter-intuitive as it may sound, he needs support to make his own decisions, because in that moment, he cannot be objective.

(If Astarion is ever objective is another story....)

So much of Astarion's reactions and opinions are instinctive and unthinking. "Don't let the pixie out of the lantern, are you an idiot?" -> "A pixie! And honest-to-goodness pixie! *giggles*"

"We don't need a urchin hanging around." -> Astarion approves if you help Yenna

etc. etc. etc. There's so many times he says one thing, the cruel thing, the "fuck everyone else, I've got mine"-thing, and then approves when you do the good thing. Astarion does not live in line with his values (besides pursuing a growing need for freedom) and he frankly does not really know what his values even are.

Astarion doesn't react with glee to finding all the people he seduced - who inadvertently raped him, though they didn't know, some lowlifes and scoundrels and people having a bad day and even some sweet, naive virgins like Sebastian, who took that smoking hot Elf on his word and followed him home, probably in disbelief someone so gorgeous would pay them any attention at all - tortured and locked in a dungeon underground. He's crushed by guilt. He's in pain. Astarion delights in you causing others pain (the torture scene) because it aligns with his worldview, the joy of seeing someone else suffer for once. But he's not a cold-hearted murderer. (And yes, I am differentiating between "adventurer kills a bandit" murder and "deliberately killing someone you know for reasons/no reason" murder.) He doesn't hurt anyone in camp - Shadowheart and Lae'zel are far more dangerous than him. You never have to stop him from drinking anyone else to death. Even if you never feed him again, never use his bite attack, he never bites anyone in camp. Despite being a vampire, Astarion is, effectively, harmless. (Bite night was about checking whether or not Cazador's old command's still worked. It's his first real attempt at freedom, proving to himself that he's free from compulsion. Hence why the roll to get him to stop is a 5, giving you a 75% likelihood of succeeding. He doesn't actually want to kill you. And you get two chances!!!)

Astarion doesn't enjoy death for the sake of death. He's terrified if you side with the goblins and kill the tieflings despite goading you into doing it. I don't doubt that he could hurt others (god knows he's got enough feelings to work out that way), but there's a significant difference between a little knife play and condemning thousands of people to be tortured in the Hells for all eternity. Sacrificing his siblings is different, because they, like him, are guilty, and deserve their deaths. He agrees to sacrifice his fellow spawn as an act of self hatred, of self harm. But all those other people stupid enough to want to sleep with him? Given a day to think about it, I think Astarion would agree that that's not right - and that's why he thanks you for preventing his Ascension. That much murder isn't him. He can be thoughtless, cruel, and unkind, but Astarion isn't a psychopath.

Take him to the brothel, and slipping back into that role, the seductive rake, it as easy as breathing. I don't think Astarion has ever thought about if he's the type of person to enjoy group sex, or even if he wants it. I don't doubt that Astarion enjoys sex, that he wants to have sex (he is, after all that, still shockingly horny), but he's just discovered the idea of having sex with someone he loves. He's riding that high. Of course he says yes: not only is he a different man now (he's free!), it's something he's done a thousand times already - maybe it'll be different this time, maybe something has changed - or maybe, an orgy was on offer, so of course Astarion is there. It's his purpose. He's been doing it for 200 years. Where else would he be?

What I'm saying is that Astarion didn't think about what sleeping with the drow twins meant for your relationship, or how he would feel about it at all. He just went for it. He had a bad time. You then don't discuss it because that would mean admitting that he finally made a choice by himself and it backfired. He didn't think, or maybe he did, and it turns out he just doesn't know himself. Why discuss it? A relationship with G3 apparently means group sex. They probably asked twice. They backtracked all the way to Wyrm's Crossing post-Cazador. Will they ask again? How many times can he say no?

In reality, in the real world, the act of asking can be the problem in and of itself. If your significant other/spouse/lover asks you to do something you don't want to do, be it a threesome, anal, opening the relationship etc, these actions have consequences. The act of asking doesn't happen in a vacuum like it does in video games: there is a cost associated with it, a gamble, and while it may pay off, it may not. Some people get worn down and agree to things they don't want to do. Sometimes you break up because the act of asking is so inherently disrespectful you can't reconcile your differing wants and needs. If you're dating someone who has experienced the gut-wrenching pain of being cheated on, you don't ask 2 months into a new relationship if you can fuck other people. This should not come as a surprise to you, to G3, to anyone. It's common sense.

BG3 giving you the opportunity for a foursome with Astarion not only to give the player their hot'n'spicy sex scene (then playfully bops you on the nose by making it a fade-to-black, you naughty little perverts, you), but also to continue its theme of treating the player like a mature adult, who is dealing with other mature adults, and who can and should live with the consequences of their own actions. Subsequent patches have watered this down, I admit, but I do believe that that was the ethos guiding their work from the beginning. BG3 wants you to interact with the characters like people. If you roll over and tell them what they want to hear, you will Ascend Astarion, and he'll enslave you in turn. If you agree with Gale on everything, he will kill himself and you - or, he'll become a god, becoming the exact sort of god he used to rail against. Agree with Karlach, and she will rather die than go back to the Hells. You get my point.

"But Larian could have let me check in on Astarion midway through. Maybe it was a mistake to ask, but they should have let me check on him and stop it all if he wanted. I was trying to trust him to make his own decisions." - Strawman G3

Ok. We add a dialogue option. "Astarion, love, are you alright? We can stop at any time if you want."

Astarion disapproves (-5)

He's not backing out. Thank you for asking, darling, but fuck off. (I don't think he'd actually say fuck off but the implicit message would be there. I can't see Astarion stopping midway through, nor appreciating you doubting him. Nothing changes.)

"But I still feel bad." - Strawman G3

And I completely understand that. It's a video game. Don't worry! Of course you should get your sex scene - it's a reward! You got their approval high enough! You have enough charisma points! In DA:O, you can also have an orgy, unlocked by giving your companions enough gifts! It's a game! You have enough points, you get the thing!!! You killed Cazador - you win! Have your cake and eat it too! Congrats, you unlocked your hot slutty vampire elf who's basically a trained courtesan, who needs you to be his moral compass, who will never leave you so long as you don't actively rape him - enjoy all the fun orgies in your future!

Your actual choice - the choice the game gives you - is to realize that taking what's essentially a human trafficking victim to a brothel is a dumb idea, but they didn't want to punish you for it.

"Well, Astarion should have said something then. He said no before, he can say no again." - Strawman G3

If you go through life pushing peoples boundaries and expect them to verbally tell you what you're doing wrong, you're gonna be friendless and have a bad time. This ties back to both Astarion having difficulty knowing and defending his own values, BG3 trying to let you make your own decisions without setting out a clear "good or bad" path on occasion, and the hope that you'd use your own morals to make decisions. G3 would never behave in this way irl, and that's where the shock comes from, the guilt from committing an action they thought was without consequence in a risk-free fantasy scenario, and then feeling unpleasantly surprised when called out.

But it's a video game, and you didn't get the little zap, the little sting of an Astarion disapproves in the corner that told you you made the wrong choice. In fact, because he doesn't disapprove, it's not actually the wrong choice!

It really was mean how the Narrator made G3 feel bad, wasn't it. They didn't mean to hurt him. Astarion doesn't mention it, so it's probably fine.

... have you talked to Halsin yet? Surely he had a good time. Right?

CONCLUSION

People think they're good and moral and will typically behave "heroically" in video games. Games support this and reward players for doing so. The "good path" is expected to be clear. However, video games are not real life no matter how much they play at immersion, and multiple games have trained players in a linear "do x, receive y" type fashion. Sex is a reward in games, and is treated that way in real life as well, so players expect the Sharess' orgy scene to be a reward, and are then shocked when Astarion/Gale/Halsin etc reveal during or afterwards that they had a bad time. This is because Larian wants you to treat BG3 like a role playing game and interact with it seriously, and isn't afraid to boop you for your actions in ways that mimic real life relationships. This ethical dissonance makes people uncomfortable especially when they play games to role-play as someone better than themselves, and are surprised when they aren't herded down predetermined "good" paths via instantaneous approval/disapproval mechanics or unlockable "ideal" dialogue.

It is absolutely possible that someday Astarion might be into meaningless group sex with prostitutes for fun and pleasure. However, that is the sort of thing you'd probably either wait for him to bring up by himself organically, or discuss in a long-term trusting relationship after he's had potentially years to process the idea of not immediately hopping into bed with someone, as well as disentangling his instinctive "beaten-in" sexually available behavior from his actual desires. People much more emotionally mature and undamaged than Astarion have destroyed their own relationships by inadvertently pushing a partner (or themselves) into various forms of group sex or other sexual acts. It's not something you do on a random Tuesday on a whim.

Or maybe it is, and I'm just chronically boring and surrounded by boring people lmao

TO THE POSTER THAT INSPIRED THIS: I'm so so sorry if you ever see this, not trying to call you out at all hence no linking, I just wanted to pick apart why I think you felt that way. The thoughts just finally bubbled over after a year+ lol

[solar4seekstron]

TfKnightverse!Mirage x Cybertronian!GN!Reader Oneshot: A Human

Part 2

Part 1

TW/Tags: fluff, reader and mirage are so lovely dovy, couple goals, poor Noah man, angst, heavy angst, my god you will hurt, Optimus prime and reader are basically siblings, death, that should be all.

Note: As always I hope you all enjoyed this. You all have been requesting for this so I hope it was worth the wait. I love my big blue silly robot and I love him so damn much. As always a repost is appreciated and hope to hear you guys enjoyed this!!!!!

After a few days and taking the plane to a certain land.

Eventually meeting the Maximals and the people they have grown to trust over the many years. Over the time Noah only continued to feel like as if he’s your and Mirages kid. Always stuck with his parents if they’re either arguing ueing, being lovey dovy, or really just any conversation you two have.

As time carries on you can tell the stress getting to Optimus. You at times comforted him. Even when Bee offlined you made sure to be there for him. Mirage and Arcee doing the same. In their own way.

You’d eventually get along with Noah. Whom seemed to like you more then mirage in some ways. Even teasing Mirage every now and then.

When the autobots stayed the night at a villagers home. Noah and the other human Elena staying in these little “houses”. You and mirage together as you both watched the sunset.

Eventually some time before sunrise. Mirage woke you up. You both drive deep in the forest quietly in order to not wake up the others.

Once far enough you both transformed.

“Mirage if there a reason you woke me up before dawn?” You whispered. Just in case.

“Why not? Me and you barely had time babe.” His cervos gently grabbing yours as he stands on a close. Gently stepping up as he tried to stand at the same height as you. “Now baby I know our little adventure with humans hasn’t been easy-“

You just stared at him with a small smile and narrowed optics.

“But I promise you! We will make up for all of our missed dates. And …other things.” He flirts. Giving you those optics.

You sighed and placed one of your cervos on the side of his helm. “Mirage.”

“But not to worry babe. When we get that key. And the war ends. We goin places!” He said cheerfully. Making you chuckle as you two embrace each other. Your dermas connecting as you both closed your optics.

After that you both returned only to see Airazor struggling. She was infected- You immediately put your arm infront of Mirage to protect him and placed your other cervo on the handle of your sword.

Optimus comes to protect the female human. Primal coming along to deal with the situation.

From there she flew away. You can see the pain and worry in Primals optics. Mirage then took out his blaster and you took out your swords when Optimus gave his order. Then Nightbird attacked Primal.

You and Mirage were quick to get into battle. You and Nightbird in combat both having similar moves.

After that Primal had to kill Airazor. You and the others didn’t know until you got there after. You and mirage stood together as Noah goes to comfort Elena. You both looking at him with sadness. When mirage reached out to Noah, you put your cervo on his shoulder. Stopping him.

You all then watch as a tower is created from a distance. Almost believing you all have lost. You weren’t doing too well. Sitting on a rock. Mirage then coming to you to comfort you.

He was about to speak until Noah came and spoke.

Primal and Prime spoke. Making a new plan. We still have a chance to stop them!

You and mirage looked at each other with small smiles and nod. Both of you liking the plan. You and mirage both staying close to Noah and Elena as Optimus made his speech.

———————————————————————————

You’d all then make your way to the cliff. You stayed behind with Mirage and the humans before joining the other bots.

“Alright guess I’ll see you after battle babe” he looked at you with his usual smile. Only for it to go away as he saw the sad expression on your face as you stared down at him. With sad optics.

“Mirage..I.”

“Hey hey. We’ll see each other after the battle yeah?”

He gently pulled you down to give you a gentle kiss, Noah and Elena both chuckle and roll their eyes.

“I love you. And you don’t need to save me. Alright sweetspark?”

“…I…Love you too..” you only gave a small smile as he walked to the two as you watched. “He’ll be fine…yeah..he’ll be ok..”

You’d then look at your cervo on the handle of one of your swords. “He’s…Mirage.”

You’d then walk to the others. Joining them in the fight. Giving Mirage one last glance as he walked. After you did so he does the same. An uncertain look in his optics. The blue in his eyes dark:

———————————————————————————

You all ran into battle. Taking out both of your swords and killed everything in your way alongside Optimus. Even showing off some moves along side Optimus.

“Just like old times Prime?” You cut a bot in half by the head.

“Like old time!” He crushed another bot.

You’d then hear tires and looked at where scourge is at the tower. You’d then see- MIRAGE?!

“No no no MIRAGE!!!” A bot was able to punch you. Only for you to cut him in half and continue fighting. From there you kept fighting with primal and prime.

Covering for the others as they did you.

You kept trying to look and watch mirage but the battle was becoming more and more intense.

The fight only carried on. It didn’t seem like things are getting better for mirage up there. You could only keep fighting as primal saved you from being attacked hy one of the bots.

While you were too busy. Mirage and Noah were dealing with their own battle.

Scourge was just about to shoot Noah. Until Mirage got infront of Noah. Taking the hit

“Mirage what are you doing?!”

“Keeping…My promise.” He’s shot once more. Letting out a groan.

“Mirage No! Come on you gotta get up!”

“It’s ok, Noah.” He’s then shot again.

“Hey…tell my love…I love love them…and I’m sorry I couldnt…keep…m-my promise” he’s shot once more.

“Home- Home team.”

“Home Team” from there. Scourge gave the final blow..

Noah was…gone

You were able to hear the shots. Killing another bot with your sword. You felt a horrible pain in your spark. Painful….When your turned you helm and looked at the direction. Your optics widened as everything went in slow motion. Optimus and Primal calling for you as you fell to one knee….

…..:

……

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!”

You ran. Slashing and cutting any bot who wasn’t with you to death as you run past. Trying to get to mirage as you can only see his corpse.

That’s until Optimus tackled you. “I understand your pain but we must carry on our fight!!!! We will avenge him!” You just stared up at him. Breathing heavy as tears continue. You’d then nod. You will have justice for mirage.

And so the fighting carried. Noticing mirages body was gone until you saw Noah’s armor. You aren’t sure if that means he was alive or not.

You could barely think besides trying to get to Scourge.

Eventually Bumblebee you is now alive somehow? Came to help with the battle. Saving you from being covered by bots. You and bee fighting together alongside as you try to make your way to Optimus.

Soon you, bumblebee, and Noah are fighting together as the others stay at the fighting ground. Driving together as you made your way to Optimus.

Helping cover Optimus. Noah close with you as you both shot at the boys coming from every angle.

You were with Noah as Optimus killed Scourge finally giving mirage his vengeance. But then Optimus says he’ll stay to destroy the key…you and everyone else looked at him. Primal poke to prime.

After you spoke “Optimus…I already lost a bot the most important to me. But to lose another! I-I won’t I-I can’t!”

He placed his cervo on your shoulder. “You work with Primal…protect the others..For me…and mirage.”

Your optics are sad but you then nodded.

And from there you drove off with bumblebee. Escaping.

After that. Noah and primal helped save Optimus. The three getting away as you all made your way from the once battle field.

Everyone stopped as took a breather. We won….we won…

Optimus gave his speech. Then you’re all on a plane. You sat next to Optimus. Who kept his cervo on your shoulder as you had your helm down. Tears slowly coming down your cheeks as the others took a well needed nap.

Noah came up in front of you. Taking a knee as he placed his hand ontop of one of your cervos.

“He said….” He struggled with his words as you looked at him. Now looking down at him. “He said he’s sorry that…he couldn’t keep his promise….and that he loves you.” He had a small smile on his lips.

You tried so hard to not cry even more as you wipe yours tears away. “Thank you…Noah.”

———————————————————————————

After some time you were hiding out in Noah’s garage.

Just in your car mode as you watched Noah work on mirages car. After Noah and his friend talked. Mirage then transformerd. Standing up as he has his arms in the air.

Causing the friend to drop his treat from his mouth.

“Yo, Mirage.”

“Yeah! Your boy is back! This dude said I wasn’t even gonna start!” From behind you transformed. Making Mirage hear you.

Turning around. “Baby you’re here!-“ you grabbed him by the waist and pulled him close your dermas against his. “I thought I lost you!!”

“HOLD UP! You got another one in here!”

“Haha Yeap!”

“I thought so too babe!” You both held into each others embrace as you looked at Noah. “Thank you Noah”

“Heh yeah no prob. Always there for a…friend” you and Mirage started kisses each other once more. It soon becoming a full on make out session as the two humans watch.

“Should we uhh…”

“Um guys y’all know this is my garage….right?….guys??”

In between kisses mirage spoke “Sorry Noah. Mmm Uh you guys should probably leave.” You and mirage were now on the floor. Mirage on top as he used him arms to support himself. “It’s about to get busy up in here!” As you both resumed. Noah and his friend ran upstairs. “Yeah I ain’t sticking around for this!” The friend said. “Oh come on!” Noah said running up right after him.

Let’s just say Noah was too scared to go into his own garage for. Good few hours. And also really happy that his mom and lil bro stayed asleep to not hear you two…cuddling.

I promise you Y/N makes it up to Noah. And so does mirage. But I will also say….Y/N and Mirage defiantly made up for all that lost time.

In the comments below sure to let me know your thoughts and if you want a part 3. And as always have a good rest of your day!

[pickleskisser]

Dating Pickles Headcanons

First post being about Pickles,,, who would've guessed!!

I think he's the most boyfriend material out of the whole band,,, not biased at all !

He's not traditionally romantic with dinner and flowers and the likes, but he has his own Pickles' charm. Picture lazy days in bed, watching trash T.V, your head on his chest, his arm around you, and his hand mindlessly running up and down your side. It's tender, it's intimate, and probably a third chick named Mary Jane involved.

He values quality time a lot. He doesn't care what the two of you do as long as it's together. Even though he's a billionaire I think he would enjoy doing the most mundane things. In fact, I'd go as far to say out of all the band members, he has an appreciation for the little things the most. I think walking around an empty park late at night with an arm wrapped around you, doing nothing but talking and feeding the swans, is his idea heaven.

He also feeds on energy, so please match his. He may be the most emotionally mature in the band, but he's still just as much of a jack-ass.

An actual dumbass during the crush stage, somebody please stop him before he hurts himself. He's showing off his drum skills, his alcohol tolerance, literally anything and everything to be seen as cool in your eyes. He'll snap out of it eventually and it's something that embarrasses him when he looks back on it; definitely being teased by the other guys about it.

He's going to want to introduce you to his family. It will be deep in the relationship when he knows he's serious about you, not right off the bat or anything. He still desires approval from his mother and a small part of him still hopes to fix the damage in their relationship, do even though it's probably a super bad idea he's taking you up to Tomahawk. It's a disaster, obviously. He'll be nervous the whole time, and the hope in his eyes will be enough to put you in cardiac arrest if you look too long. Molly will either hate you or try setting you up with Seth, no in between. Pickles will be at your defense during either scenarios. You're both going to leave emotionally exhausted but Pickles will be a wreck especially. Please comfort him and reassure him. Make sure he realizes that nothing about his shirty family will affect the two of you.

Other than quality time I think his strongest love language is words of affirmation. It can be as little as a special pet name that's exclusively for him to high praise. Any words of genuine affection make his insides feel twisted up, in a good way.

I think he would like his partner to be a little possessive. Not anything crazy but like if they suddenly tugged him closer when around others, or put their hand on his waist while at an event, he will be swooning in no time. He likes feeling wanted.

He is the best at comforting. He doesn't even have to try, really. His general presence just instantly puts a person at ease. If you were ever upset though he would stop whatever he was doing and get you somewhere quiet if you weren't already. If you don't want to be touched, he'll respect that, and just be there with you until you're ready or want to talk. If you don't mind, he'll pull you in his lap and just hold you close. He won't say much or make you talk, but he does want to be there, just to make sure you're okay with his own two eyes.

He will mindlessly bring you up in conversation. Doesn't even mean to you're just always on his mind subconsciously. He's a smitten partner, truly.

Overall, Pickles is just a genuine guy who has a few emotional hang-ups involving self-worth, but he's working on it, with you.

[kimmie2me]

# 04. Crossed Lines

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✰⋆⁺⋆˙⠀⠀⠀⠀taglist ... chapters ... masterlist

note: hey hey!! sorry for the late chapter!! needed time to write this + a request ill post later!! enjoy!!

.....

After the short interaction wrapped up, you found yourself glancing over at the two other detectives standing beside Midoriya. Both were new faces to you, but the contrast was instantly noticeable—Ashido Mina, with her bright eyes and bubblegum hair, radiated an unshakable optimism, while Sero Hanta’s casual smile and relaxed posture somehow balanced the energy Bakugou’s relentless intensity brought to the room. Midoriya himself, ever the polite one, caught your gaze and offered a small, friendly nod.

You decided that if you were all going to be dealing with a case this serious, a little rapport wouldn’t hurt. But the moment you opened your mouth, Bakugou’s eyes cut toward you, a warning practically glowing in his glare.

“Is this a damn tea party?” Bakugou barked, arms crossed tightly. “We got places to be, people. Let’s. GO.”

“Lighten up, Kacchan,” Midoriya replied with a smile that was almost too casual for the tension between him and Bakugou. He pushed up his sleeves, looking genuinely unfazed by Bakugou’s attitude. “We’re all working together on this one. And a team that’s familiar with each other works better, right?”

Bakugou shot him a glare, muttering something about “wasted time” as he stormed past, but he didn’t outright shut you down again, so… small victories.

“So, you’re the new partner, huh?” Sero asked, flashing a grin as you all walked toward the bullpen. “Must be tough, dealing with Mr. Sunshine over there.”

You tried to laugh it off, but the groan slipped out before you could stop it. “You have no idea. Half the time, I feel like he’s about two seconds away from throwing me out of a moving vehicle. Or into a boxing ring.”

“Oh, trust me,” Mina giggled, leaning in conspiratorially, “he’s all bark… and bite. But he only goes full ‘attack mode’ if he respects you. Right, Midoriya?”

Midoriya, clearly having overheard every word of the conversation, nodded with a sympathetic smile. "Yeah, Kacchan... has a unique way of motivating people. If you can even call it motivation," he added, trailing off as though unsure of how to phrase it. And this was the same guy who'd gotten away with calling Bakugou a semi-affectionate nickname—in public!

You were still processing that when Mina gave you a friendly tap on the shoulder. “So, don’t take it personally if he’s a little extra harsh. You’d have to screw up pretty bad for him to really lose it on you.”

Sero grinned. “Yeah, we’ve all been on the receiving end of his ‘motivational speeches.’ Right, Midoriya?”

Midoriya again nodded, a hint of nervous laughter escaping him. “He’s been like that since high school. But he’s a good detective. If you stick around long enough, you’ll see why.”

Just as you were starting to relax into the conversation, Bakugou’s voice sliced through it like a razor. “Oi! Enough chitchat. If I wanted a damn pep talk, I’d ask for it.” He shot you a glare, then pointed toward the door. “Move it. Now.”

You exchanged quick, sheepish glances with Mina and Sero, who both gave you a silent “good luck” nod as Bakugou led the way out, practically radiating impatience. Even Midoriya’s friendly wave didn’t fully shake off the weight of Bakugou’s intensity.

As you moved into the hallway with Bakugou just a few steps ahead, you couldn’t help but think: that getting to know these new teammates was going to be a marathon in itself. And given Bakugou’s lingering glare, you were pretty sure he’d do his best to make sure you wouldn’t forget it.

.....

The air between you and Bakugou was thick with unspoken tension as he pushed open the door to a quieter side room, away from the chatter and energy of the other officers. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as you stepped inside, the soft thud of the door closing behind you magnifying the sudden silence. Bakugou’s back was to you, the crisp lines of his navy-blue police detective uniform sharp under the bright lights. The tailored fabric stretched over his broad shoulders, the insignia patch visible on his sleeve as he crossed his arms and let out a deep, controlled breath.

“Alright, listen up, rookie,” he started, voice low and rough but without the usual edge that could cut through concrete. His eyes met yours, stormy and electric, a mix of begrudging seriousness and irritation. It wasn’t quite the barking tone you were used to, but it sure as hell wasn’t gentle either. “This isn't some simple patrol. We’re dealin' with a syndicate—real, organized scum who’d sell their own mothers for a payday.”

You nodded, feeling the pressure coil tighter in your chest. He took a step closer, and you resisted the urge to flinch. He wasn’t intimidating by accident; he was all sharp edges and raw energy, a wildfire trying to behave like a controlled burn.

“I know you’re green, and I know you’re not ready for half the shit we’re about to face.” His eyes narrowed, watching for any sign of disagreement. “But that don’t mean you’re gonna slack off. This is your chance to prove you can handle bein’ my partner without draggin’ my ass down.”

You opened your mouth to speak, maybe defend yourself or say something witty to cut the tension, but he didn’t give you the chance. His hand flew up, pointer finger raised in warning. “No. Shut up and listen."

Great. The infamous Bakugou Katsuki motivational speech, part two.

“We’re runnin' recon. Stakeout. The works. This ain’t the kind of gig where you can afford to blink and miss somethin’.” He started pacing, his boots hitting the linoleum floor with a steady rhythm. The room was just big enough that his movements seemed to fill every inch of space, every stride of his reminding you that he was not just a man, but a force. “We watch, we wait, and we don’t move unless we have to. You don’t make a sound unless I tell ya to. You don’t play hero, you don’t get curious, and you sure as hell don’t run your mouth if things get tense.”

He stopped in front of you again, eyes flickering over your expression like he was reading every doubt, every hesitation. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might actually tone it down. Instead, he leaned in, the intensity in his eyes nearly crackling.

“I’m sayin’ this once, so get it through that head of yours: the second you act like this is a game or hesitate when things get messy, we’re done. Got it?”

The room felt a few degrees hotter, and it took everything in you not to shrink under his stare. You swallowed hard, steeling your nerves. “..Got it.”

His gaze lingered, scanning for any cracks, any sign that you were bluffing. Whatever he saw must have passed his test, because he straightened, arms folding back across his chest as he nodded once, sharply.

“Good.” The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smirk but something less hostile. “Now, don’t screw it up.”

Silence stretched between you for a moment, the words sinking in like lead. You didn’t know whether to be relieved or more anxious. You took a breath, the reality of it all pressing down on your shoulders.

“So, when’s the stakeout?” you asked, trying to mask the nerves in your voice with a false bravado. It worked well enough in theory—maybe not so much in practice.

Bakugou’s eyes darkened with the glint of a man ready for battle. “Tonight. Gear up and meet me by the west gate at 1900. And remember what I said, rookie—‘cause one slip, and we’re both screwed.”

You nodded again, the weight of the next few hours pressing like a vise on your chest. As you turned to leave, the thought flared back in your mind: Yeah, you were definitely doomed.

.....

The hours between the briefing and 19:00 were a special kind of hell. You sat at your desk, fingers drumming against the polished wood as your nerves twisted into knots that no amount of deep breathing could undo. The department buzzed around you, a chaotic orchestra of voices, footsteps, and the static crackle of radios. But all of it was muffled, like cotton was stuffed in your ears. Your mind was on one thing: tonight's stakeout.

Kaminari, bless his soul, had tried to lighten the mood, sauntering over with that boyish grin and the kind of confidence that only came from blissful ignorance. “Hey, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. You know, if this was a horror movie, you’d be the one who gets possessed first.”

“Thanks, Kaminari,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile as your leg bounced under the desk. His joke didn’t help, but at least it was something.

“And then Bakugou would probably shout at the demon until it left you alone,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows. That earned him a snort from Kirishima across the room, who was busy checking his gear. Even so, the tension in your chest didn’t let up.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if the demon just possessed him instead,” you said, only half-joking. Kaminari barked out a laugh before leaning in.

“Hey, you’ll be fine. Just, you know, don’t do anything Bakugou said not to do,” he whispered conspiratorially.

You wanted to laugh, you really did. But instead, all you could do was glance at the clock, counting down the hours and minutes until you’d have to face Bakugou’s exacting standards—and hope that you wouldn’t be the reason this mission went sideways.

…

By the time 18:30 rolled around, you were a bundle of frayed nerves. Every glance from Bakugou during prep was a silent challenge, his sharp eyes catching the tiniest missteps—your holster that wasn’t clipped properly, the radio you checked twice just to be sure it was on the right frequency. He didn’t even have to say anything; the weight of his disapproval was enough to make you sweat bullets. You could practically hear him in your head, shouting, “Rookie mistakes get us killed.”

The room felt like it was closing in, the anticipation coiling tighter with every second that passed. It didn’t help that the murmured conversations were peppered with glances in your direction. Even Kirishima, who’d shown up with a reassuring clap on your shoulder and a grin that promised camaraderie, couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom that had settled over you.

“Alright, everyone!” Chief Yagi’s voice cut through the room like a warm, steady beacon. The tall man stood beside Chief Aizawa, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here, his eyes half-lidded but sharp. The room quieted instantly, officers shifting from casual banter to focused attention. Even Bakugou, with his constant underlying intensity, straightened his posture.

“This is it,” Chief Yagi began, his voice even and calm, resonating with the kind of authority that settled nerves—at least a little. “We’re up against a syndicate that’s been one step ahead of us for too long. Tonight, we change that.”

Chief Aizawa’s eyes swept the room, pausing on you for a fraction longer than you’d have liked. “Stay sharp. This isn’t your average stakeout. Everyone needs to be on point. One mistake, and they’ll be gone before we blink.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his gaze like an iron chain. Your heart drummed so loudly, you wondered if anyone else could hear it.

“Bakugou, you and your team are the first line,” Yagi continued, eyes shifting to the explosive blond. Bakugou’s lips twitched into something that might have been a smirk but was probably just his battle-ready scowl. “Be ready for anything.”

“Damn right,” Bakugou muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His eyes flicked to you for half a second, a warning and an assurance wrapped into one.

You swallowed hard as the chiefs finished the briefing, a collective shuffling of boots and gear following as everyone moved out to their positions. The air crackled with anticipation, every officer a tightly wound spring ready to snap. The hallway buzzed with activity, footsteps echoing as your team gathered near the entrance.

And then it hit you, hard and cold like a wave crashing over your head: you were absolutely fucked. All the pep talks, all the reassurances in the world couldn’t quell the gnawing anxiety that twisted in your gut as you stepped into the night, the sky darkening into a canopy of shadows.

“Let’s move, rookie!” Bakugou’s voice cut through, snapping you back to the present. You glanced over at Midoriya, who shot you a small, nervous smile that did little to settle your nerves. Ahead, Kirishima flashed a thumbs-up, his own excitement barely contained.

The night was just beginning, but one thing was clear—you were in for the fight of your life.

.....

You, Kirishima, and Bakugou took up positions in the dense cluster of shadows outside the syndicate's hideout. The abandoned industrial park loomed like a hulking beast, its rusted metal structures catching the eerie glow of the moon. The cool night air should have been refreshing, but it only added a biting edge to the tension coiling in your stomach. Bakugou was already a taut wire, vibrating with his usual mix of impatience and adrenaline.

“Eyes open, no screw-ups,” Bakugou hissed under his breath, the snarl barely masked behind clenched teeth. His glare cut through the dark, landing squarely on you. Great, you thought. Just what you needed—his full, undivided wrath.

“Got it,” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the quiet hum of night insects.

Kirishima, bless his eternally optimistic soul, shot you a reassuring smile. “Hey, we’re gonna be fine, yeah? We’ve trained for this. Just remember the plan.”

You nodded, trying to channel even a sliver of his confidence. The plan was simple on paper: observe, gather intel, wait for the signal. But reality had a funny way of chewing up simple plans and spitting them out as complicated messes, and with Bakugou as the lead, nothing was ever just simple.

Bakugou shifted beside you, eyes narrowed and posture coiled tight like a predator about to spring. “Stop movin' like you’re an amateur on a school field trip. You make one wrong move, and they’ll hear us from miles away.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from snapping back. He wasn’t wrong, but damn if the delivery didn’t make you want to throw your boot at his head. Instead, you adjusted your stance, focusing on steady, measured breaths. Kirishima’s eyes darted between the two of you, his smile faltering slightly. He opened his mouth as if to say something encouraging but quickly shut it as Bakugou shot him a look that could’ve seared paint off metal.

“Focus, Shitty Hair. We’re not here for a group hug.”,” Bakugou growled.

Kirishima winced, but to his credit, he nodded. “Right, right. All good here.”

The quiet stretched out, an oppressive blanket that made every creak and rustle sound magnified. You kept your eyes trained on the entrance of the building, fingers flexing nervously at your side. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple despite the chill. You wanted to be calm, composed, the officer Bakugou didn’t feel like he had to babysit. But under the weight of his scalding gaze, the pressure sat heavy on your chest.

Suddenly, a small sound—a metallic clink—broke the silence. Your eyes darted to the source, and before you could register what it was, Bakugou had whirled on you, eyes blazing with fury.

“What the hell did I say, rookie?!" he hissed, barely louder than a whisper but fierce enough to make your pulse leap. “You tryin' to announce our presence with a goddamn megaphone?””

“I didn’t—” you started, but Kirishima interjected, trying to diffuse the escalating tension.

“Whoa, whoa, guys. Let’s just—”

“Stay outta this, Kirishima,” Bakugou snapped, never taking his eyes off you. "I swear, if you cost us this op—”

“Bakugou, I get it,” you interrupted, your voice sharp enough to slice through the static in the air. “I’m not here to mess this up.”

“Then act like it.”,” he shot back, voice dripping with impatience. His eyes were unreadable in the dark, but you could feel the weight of everything he wasn’t saying pressing against you. Prove yourself or get out of my way.

Kirishima shifted awkwardly, clearly torn between stepping in and staying silent. His fingers curled, the tension evident even in his usually relaxed frame. He gave you a small, apologetic look, but there wasn’t much he could do. Bakugou’s word was final.

You swallowed hard and nodded, steeling yourself. The sting of Bakugou’s criticism burned, but it fueled you, sharpening your focus. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of breaking under his scrutiny.

The minutes ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last as the quiet hum of the night settled once more. The weight of the mission, of Bakugou’s piercing gaze, of your own hammering heartbeat—all of it coalesced into a single, suffocating realization.

You were in it now, with no room for doubt or error. As Chief Yagi’s voice crackled softly through the comms with the final “All units, prepare to engage,” you exhaled shakily. The stakeout had officially begun, and there was no turning back.

This, you thought as you scanned the perimeter one last time, the shadows shifting and stretching like specters. Is the worst year of my life.

.....

The first half hour of the stakeout was suffocating in its monotony. Every creak and groan of the old industrial park seemed amplified, stretching the seconds into an eternity. Bakugou hadn’t taken his eyes off the building for a second, muscles taut and ready to strike at the slightest hint of movement. You tried to match his vigilance, forcing your breathing to remain steady as the cold air bit through your jacket. Kirishima shifted beside you, the only sign he wasn’t made entirely of stone.

Suddenly, a low whistle over the comms cut through the night: the signal. Movement at the side entrance. Your pulse spiked, locking eyes with Bakugou, who barely gave you a glance before snapping, “Stay close. Don’t screw this up.”

“Right,” you muttered, mostly to yourself. This was it. Time to prove you were more than just some rookie Bakugou had to babysit.

The three of you crept forward, Bakugou leading with steps too silent for someone with such a loud personality. You mirrored him as best you could, even as adrenaline threatened to unsteady your footing. Kirishima brought up the rear, eyes narrowed and focused.

Just as you reached the door, Bakugou’s hand shot up, signaling a halt. He glanced back, mouthing, On my mark. Your fingers flexed, nerves wound tighter than a spring.

Then, a figure darted out of the building, faster than expected. Panic flared as you reacted just a beat too late. Your foot grazed a loose pipe, sending it clattering against the concrete like a symphony of mistakes.

Bakugou’s eyes flashed with molten fury. “What the hell did I just say?!”

The figure froze, head whipping toward the noise—then bolted, vanishing into the maze of the industrial park.

“Move!” Bakugou roared, his voice slicing through the night.

All three of you burst into a sprint, boots pounding cracked pavement. The cold bit harder as you tore through tight corridors and rusted structures, Bakugou’s curses driving you forward.

Twisting around corners, feet pounding, shadows shifting erratically in the flashlights’ beams—you misstepped, just a fraction too slow on the slick ground. Your ankle twisted, and the world tilted. You yelped, slamming into a metal crate with a clang.

“Split up!” he barked, and you veered right, legs burning, lungs heaving to keep pace. You caught a blur of movement—a flash of dark clothing.

“Contact, west side!” you gasped into the comms.

But as you turned the corner, your target slipped into a corridor cluttered with debris. You leapt over a pipe, skidding on loose gravel, arms pinwheeling. Before you regained balance, a second figure shoved past, slamming you against the metal siding of a container.

“Dammit!” you choked, disoriented. The clatter had already alerted the team, but it was too late. Bakugou appeared from the opposite end, just in time to see them vanish through a gap in the chain-link fence.

He spun to you, fury sparking in his eyes. “Are you serious? One damn job, and you blew it!”

Kirishima came running, breathing hard, eyes darting between the exit and your crumpled form. “We can still—”

“It’s too late, Kirishima.” Bakugou spat, words cutting like glass. He yanked you up by the arm, not gentle. “Lost our best lead ‘cause of you.”

You winced as he let go, the cold fury in his eyes stinging more than the rough grip on your arm. Silence fell heavy, punctuated only by harsh breaths and the distant hum of the city.

Then Chief Yagi’s voice crackled over the comms. “Teams, return to base. We’ll regroup and assess.”

You couldn’t look Bakugou in the eye as you trudged back, the walk a slow march of shame. Kirishima tried a comforting shoulder pat, but it only made the sting worse. Bakugou’s words echoed in your skull, sharp as broken glass.

.....

Back at the precinct, Bakugou wasted no time, cornering you in the hallway, slamming a fist against the wall by your head with a sharp crack. You flinched. His eyes blazed, a cold fury simmering beneath the surface. His jaw clenched so tight it looked ready to shatter, and you could feel heat radiating from him, even in the frigid night air. This was beyond bad.

“What. The hell. Were you thinkin’?” he ground out, each word heavy with fury, barely contained. He was close enough that you noticed the scar slicing across his right cheek—a jagged reminder he was built for chaos. Right now, though, he looked like he was about to snap—and you were the reason why.

Honestly? You didn’t even know. No idea, and that was the worst of it. You didn’t know why you kept screwing up. Or why you couldn’t just…stop.

You swore you wouldn’t cry. Never. But after everything, you could feel it creeping up, your gaze dropping to avoid Bakugou’s glare, which burned with something harsher than anger—disdain. It was like fuel to the fire, but for your tears, if that even made sense.

The weight of his glare felt like it might crush you into the linoleum. Bakugou’s presence filled every inch of the hallway, every jagged line of his rage pressing in on you until even breathing felt like a mistake. But you forced yourself to hold it together, swallowing hard, refusing to crack under his gaze.

"Chief Yagi told me you had potential," he sneered, voice dripping with venom. "Thought I was wastin’ my time watchin' your back, but I guess you’re set on provin' him wrong." His eyes raked over you, assessing, but you could tell he wasn’t finding anything worth the trouble.

Your fists tightened, knuckles white, but you bit back any retort that threatened to slip out. You didn’t have a defense. You’d failed, and he was right to be angry. Still, the weight of his disappointment—and the sting of his words—cut deep.

"I fuckin' knew you'd be a shit partner, if I can even call you that," Bakugou spat, voice low and venomous. He stepped back, shaking his head in disgust. "You're not even worth the time I wasted, dragging your ass through this mess."

Your chest tightened, but you kept your jaw set, refusing to back down or give him the satisfaction of seeing your frustration boil over. You could feel the heat of his words, each one like a slap to the face. But you weren’t going to let him break you.

Kirishima rounded the corner, his face a mask of concern. He caught Bakugou’s shoulder, halting him mid-step. “C’mon, man, go easy. You know we all slip up sometimes. We were all green once, right?”

Bakugou shrugged him off, his glare flicking between you and Kirishima. "Green’s one thing. Getting a lead ruined ‘cause they don’t know left from right? That’s another."

Kirishima's jaw tensed, but he turned to you with a softer look, one that almost undid all your efforts not to crumble right there. "Hey, everyone messes up at some point. Even Bakugou’s had a few rough starts. Right, Bakugou?" he added, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, hoping to diffuse the tension.

Bakugou’s eyes flashed, jaw clenching tighter. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Shitty Hair.”

Kirishima didn’t back down, meeting Bakugou’s fierce gaze head-on. “But you’re the one who’s always telling everyone to learn fast, right? And they will. They just need—”

“Need to toughen up, yeah,” Bakugou snapped, cutting him off. He turned back to you, his voice low and lethal. "Next time you so much as breathe wrong on a case, I’ll make sure it’s the last time."

With one last, withering look, he stormed off, footsteps echoing down the hall. Kirishima stayed a moment longer, his hand landing on your shoulder, firm but reassuring.

"Look," he murmured, lowering his voice. "Bakugou’s tough on everyone. Hell, he was even worse with me when I started. But he’s all bark, yeah? Don’t let it get to you. You’ll learn. Just…keep at it."

You managed a shaky nod, swallowing past the tightness in your throat. “Thanks, Kirishima.”

He gave you a reassuring pat, his smile kind despite everything. "Hang in there. If you stick around long enough, even Bakugou’s gotta acknowledge you eventually." He offered a wink, trying to lighten the mood, before heading down the hall after his friend.

The quiet that followed felt hollow, the fluorescent lights humming above as you stood there, replaying every step of the mission in your mind, every slip and wrong move magnified a hundred times over.

You barely registered the footsteps approaching until a soft voice spoke.

"You okay?"

It was Chief Yagi, his tall frame looming gently over you, eyes soft and compassionate. The chief was a man of few words, but each one seemed to carry weight. He’d been the one who vouched for you, vouched hard enough to get Bakugou’s reluctant approval. You didn’t know why he’d stuck his neck out, not when there were dozens of rookies more deserving.

“Yes, sir. Just…reflecting,” you managed, forcing your voice to stay steady.

Yagi’s gaze didn’t waver, his sharp eyes searching yours as if reading every thought that crossed your mind. “Mistakes happen,” he said quietly, his tone gentle but firm. “They’re not what define you. It’s what you do afterward that counts.”

You nodded, hearing the wisdom in his words but not quite feeling it. The shame still burned, Bakugou’s words still echoing like a scar. You couldn’t shake the image of his furious glare, the way his words cut through you, sharper than any blade. You had one job. That’s all he’d said. And you’d screwed it up. Badly.

You weren’t cut out for this, were you? Maybe Bakugou was right—maybe you were just a waste of time. Everyone around you seemed to know exactly what they were doing, but you were fumbling through every step, like a toddler learning to walk. You could still feel the sting of his disappointment, his anger, like it was still seeping into your bones.

You weren’t good enough. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

A pit of self-loathing twisted in your stomach, deeper than it ever had before. You’d come into this job with so much hope, with the idea that you could prove yourself, that you could be something more than just another rookie. But every time you tried, it felt like you only dug yourself deeper. Every mistake you made seemed to stack up, making you a bigger target for Bakugou’s wrath.

Was this the best you could do? Stumbling through every opportunity, letting your partner clean up your mess?

You should’ve known better. You should’ve moved faster, been more careful, not tripped on that damn pipe. You shouldn’t have let the pressure get to you. But here you were, a failure in the eyes of your mentor, your team, yourself.

Tears burned the back of your eyes, and you blinked them away furiously. You didn’t cry. Not over something like this. But no matter how hard you tried, the ache in your chest didn’t fade. What if this was it? What if you just weren’t built for this kind of work? Maybe you didn’t belong here at all.

You pushed a hand against the wall, feeling the cool surface beneath your palm as your breath grew shallow. What if you just gave up? What if you walked out the door, out of this damn precinct, and never came back?

You’re not good enough, the thought whispered. And you never will be.

For a moment, you stood there, weighed down by that voice—by the truth of it. And in the quiet of the hallway, with only the distant hum of the building and the haunting echoes of Bakugou’s fury, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you were starting to believe it.

The silence stretched on, the oppressive weight of your own thoughts bearing down on you. The anger that had been bubbling in your chest before was now buried under a thick layer of disappointment—both your own and what you imagined Bakugou’s to be.

But then, a soft voice cut through the dark fog of your mind.

"Hey." Chief Yagi’s voice was gentle, but firm. You didn’t even realize he had entered the hallway until you heard him say your name. "You doing alright?"

You flinched at the sound of your name, dragging your gaze up to meet his warm, steady eyes. Chief Yagi wasn’t like Bakugou—he wasn’t harsh, wasn’t blunt or demanding. His presence was a quiet kind of strength, and it was that quiet strength that seemed to settle over you like a blanket.

“I… I don’t know, Chief.” The words came out like a confession, raw and hesitant. You couldn’t meet his gaze for long, instead focusing on the floor as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. "I screwed up. Big time. I… I don’t think I’m cut out for this."

The words tasted like ash in your mouth. They were the culmination of all the doubts you’d been carrying, every mistake you’d made, every misstep that felt like a chasm between you and your teammates.

Chief Yagi sighed softly, taking a step closer, his expression kind but knowing, like he’d seen this before. "Hey," he repeated, his voice reassuring. "Everyone messes up. Especially when they’re starting out."

You shook your head, unable to shake the feeling that you’d let everyone down. "I let everyone down, Chief. Bakugou was right. I—I had one job, and I blew it. You gave me a chance to prove myself..and I failed."

"Yeah, you made a mistake. But you didn’t ruin everything." Chief Yagi’s voice was calm, but it carried the weight of experience. "We’re not in this alone, you know? You don’t have to carry the burden of every single slip-up on your own."

His words were a balm to the self-inflicted wound that had been festering. But they still didn’t feel quite enough to wipe away the guilt. "But I keep messing up," you said softly. "Over and over again. I’m just... holding everyone back."

"No," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "What you’re doing is learning. You’re learning, and you’re pushing through. That’s all anyone can ask of you. I see it, you know? The way you push yourself. The way you don’t back down, even when it’s tough."

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to feel that tiny spark of hope flicker back to life inside you. But it was hard to see through the haze of failure that clouded your mind. "But what if I’m just not good enough? What if I’m just... a mistake waiting to happen?"

Chief Yagi let out another soft breath, and when he spoke again, it was with the kind of patience only someone who’d been through it all could have. "You know, no one gets everything right the first time. Or the second. Or the third, for that matter. It’s not about getting it perfect; it’s about getting back up every time you fall. And you will. I’m sure of it."

His words sank into you like a stone into water, rippling through the doubt and frustration that had been swelling up inside you. Chief Yagi wasn’t trying to erase your mistake, he was just reminding you that it didn’t define you. That you didn’t have to be perfect to be worth something.

"I’m not saying it’ll be easy," he continued, his voice steady, "but I’m here, and your team’s here. You don’t have to be alone in this, even when it feels like you are."

You swallowed hard, fighting the lump that had formed in your throat. For the first time that night, you allowed yourself a breath, a small sigh that felt like a fraction of a weight lifting.

“I won’t give up,” you said quietly, the words more to yourself than to him, but they still felt like a promise. “I’ll do better. I’ll keep going.”

Chief Yagi smiled, a small but warm curve of his lips that sent a little spark of hope through your chest. “That’s all anyone needs to hear. You’re gonna be just fine, kid.”

He turned to walk away, but before he did, he gave you one last, reassuring glance over his shoulder. "And if you ever need to talk, I’m around. Don’t forget that, okay?"

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. Maybe you weren’t a lost cause after all. Maybe you could get better. Maybe you were learning. And with that, you allowed yourself just a sliver of hope—enough to push through to the next day.

[luz-enjoyer]

Saw someone post about their mean girls sexuality headcanons and wanted to throw mine in :3 (I have a lot of headcanons for them in general so…I need a place to put them)

Regina: She/Her lesbian. I think part of her knows she’s a lesbian but she’s so deep into comphet she refuses to accept until after the bus incident. Forced herself to have a crush on Kyle (her first boyfriend) when she was younger to hide her feelings from Janis (whole reason she did what she did to Janis was because she was scared of her feelings and how others would think of her for them). Crushed on Cady when she met her and forced herself to get back with Aaron to hide them. Also I said in another post how she cheated on Aaron with Shane to try and force herself to like boys more since she only felt platonic things for Aaron and I’m sticking by that

Gretchen: She/they lesbian but doesn’t tell anyone she uses she/they pronouns tho cause she doesn’t want to be labeled as weird. (Comphet also but doesn’t realize it. She thinks it’s normal to find some random guy and pick them as a crush). If she ever did feel comfortable coming out and realizing she was gay she’d say she was bisexual with a heavy fem preference because she doesn’t want people to think that she doesnt like men at all. She has a crush on Karen but somehow doesn’t realize it because “it’s normal to feel this way towards friends” (no it’s not LMAO). I think after the spring fling her and Karen somehow start talking about their feelings and she finally accepts herself for who she truly is and they date <3

Karen: She/her pansexual. I think she’s the most accepting of herself than the other girls but that’s because she doesn’t really realize she’s pan, she thinks the way she feels about guys and girls is normal and everyone thinks like that. She has a crush on Gretchen but again, thinks it’s normal to feel that way to friends (has probably accidentally confessed her undying love for her drunkenly and made Gretchen spiral). Probably the one to initiate the conversation about feelings during the spring fling with Gretchen without even thinking about it.

Cady: she/her bisexual with Regina and Janis being her gay awakenings. She knew she liked boys, Aaron was solid proof, but didn’t realize she liked girls (or could even like both) until meeting Regina and Janis. She’s super accepting of herself though and she’s proud of it! She’s probably casually told Regina and Janis about her past crush’s on them and they were like “I HAD A CHANCE?!” And then they all look at each other like 🤨

Janis: She/He/They lesbian. Transmasc mayhaps…Regina was her first crush </3. She’s been in maybe like one or two relationships but that’s it. You can’t convince me she didn’t have a tiny crush on Cady. The way she looked at her after Cady complimented her art?? Gay. Her and Regina get closer after the Spring Fling and end up going to college together (and then dating because they never lost feelings for one another let’s be honest). Denied her feelings at first because she didn’t want Regina to hurt her again even though by then she had mellowed out and was cool.

Anyways I have like a million more hc’s so…you should maybe ask for them if you want…

(｡･ω･｡)

[randomfoggytiger]

I did ask this to another blogger because I respect both of your viewpoints. I like hearing your analysis. I don't mean to send this to you also out of any disrespect.

OK..are Gillian and David really Mulder and Scully? Lack of communication that could clear up how they felt back in the days? He is like a little puppy and she is cold hard fierce who tries to shut off the world so she doesn't get hurt? No wonder they played those characters so well:) Thank goodness that THEY controlled the narrative to this discussion instead of having some kiss ass pompous interviewer trying to get them to truly talk about the tension so that we get "it was moist". Granted, that was a fun answer and brought out an interesting dynamic between the 2, but their frank and honest discussion is more true and loving. I love that D shared in the discussion and didn't take the interviewer seat like he has in the other podcasts. He actually participated in the real conversation and let it somewhat go in some areas naturally. Now, please, D or G, release the video so that we can see those lovely smiles and gazing eyes and, you know it happened, reaching out and touching each other.

I understand that completely, anon-- I used to (and still do) go to each inbox and ask the same question, even ones I'm principally against. Just want to know what they think, y'know?

Release the Gillian cut! XDDDD I don't think there is one; but maybe someone has clips on their phone of the two of them talking that day? That'd be fun.

You have a point, especially in the early days. David and Gillian were such young, green actors that Chris really had to cast for type.

But I WILL add: Half of the very close loved ones in my life are Gillian's (Gen X) generation, and the other half(ish) are David's (Boomer) or older. Each and every person I've talked to has said the same thing about the past: no one, and I mean no one, talked. Ever. Even in functional families; but especially in dysfunctional homes, with fragile mothers-- not without (varying) consequences. Communication was wired around what could be acceptably acknowledged without the whole house of cards tumbling down. Chris Carter slipped that into the themes of his show, too; and no wonder: his own childhood was turbulent, and communication a compoundingly fraught issue.

And I will also add, though I don't know how salient this point is: I have a Gen X mother who took one look at David, one look at Gillian, and a couple looks at their past interviews, and read them like a book. (So much so, that everything they admitted to in the podcast wasn't surprising, just confirming, for me.) I fed her bits of the Fail Better interview afterward, and she was nodding along to their interruptions and admittance that they had a hard time getting along-- she'd called that Gillian likely (accidentally) hurt David's feelings over the years unconsciously; and that DD grated on GA's nerves as much as she on his... and low and behold. But more importantly, she was nodding along to the communication issues section particularly: "Yes, that's how it was."

In short: I think Chris picked the people who could embody his characters' characteristics effortlessly. (But I also know, per his own words, that he cast for chemistry.) So, I agree¬.

What do you think, anon? :DDDDDD

Edit: Also agree concerning the pompous reporters. It was great to hear them without a third party trying to spin a narrative.

[girlz4jaem]

OUR PATHS | 11. dubs in the chat (wc: 1k) cw: mentions of cheating

JAEMIN arrived at your room within five minutes of your request, carrying a handful of your favorite snacks and the little comfort items he’d used with you the last time a storm had kept you up. as he took off his slippers, settled in, and began prepping a quick late-night meal using the dinky hotel kettle, you couldn’t help but feel your heart melt the tiniest bit. not only had he taken you up on your offer to come by, but he’d also remembered exactly what you needed on nights like this.

you both ate the instant ramen he brought over, the two of you sitting on the edge of your bed. the silence between you felt heavy, like there were words piling up but no clear path forward. yet, the ramen was almost too good for midnight, and in its own way, it helped ease the tension. it was hard to admit, even to yourself, but this was exactly what you needed. his quiet, steady presence and his little gestures of thoughtfulness, even after all this time, still made a difference.

after a few moments, you noticed jaemin watching you as you finished your last bites, a pensive look in his eyes. suddenly, he spoke, his voice almost catching, as if the words were slipping out against his own will. “i’m sorry. and i’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

your eyes widened slightly, not expecting the conversation to start like this—or even tonight at all. you tried to brush it off, hoping to avoid the inevitable heartache that you knew this talk would bring. “is this what you’ve been meaning to say the past few days? you already apologized, no?”

jaemin shook his head softly, his gaze still fixed on you. “y/n, you know that’s different... why do you keep trying to push me away?”

you took a deep breath, focusing on the ground, summoning the strength to finally open this door back up. “you really broke my heart, do you know that?”

his voice was quiet but determined. “let me be the one to put it back together, y/n, please. i really am sorry for everything. i’m sorry i didn’t get to show you how much you meant to me when i had the chance.”

a beat of silence passed, and you took a shaky breath. “do you even want to tell me why you left? because you never did. you left without saying goodbye, and that fucking sucked. i wish you would’ve at least broken up with me in person.”

jaemin’s shoulders tensed as he processed your words, his face contorted with regret. “i know. and, god, i am incredibly sorry. i know this is all still confusing and frustrating for you, but you have to know i never stopped loving you. i still love you. i just... i needed to figure things out about myself.” he paused, as if bracing himself, then continued. “a couple of days before i sent that text, i ran into my ex on a work trip.” he laughed bitterly. “it seems like I’m always running into my exes…”

he continued on,”i don’t know if you remember, because i barely mentioned her when we were together, but we were together for a long time, and she cheated on me. our relationship was messy and toxic, and she left me with a lot of trust issues and self-doubt.”

jaemin’s voice faltered briefly, but he continued. “when i saw her, i found out she’d actually signed up for the work event on purpose, just to give me ‘closure.’ but instead of helping, it brought back everything. it was like i was reliving all of it—how we ended, how messed up that relationship was. it made me realize that i hadn’t really dealt with any of it, and that i’d brought all that baggage into what we had. i needed to work through it, but i thought that would hurt you more than just ending it.”

he looked up at you, his eyes pleading. “how could i love you properly if i hated myself so much?”

your voice was barely a whisper. “but why didn’t you just tell me all of that, jaemin? i didn’t want perfect. i wanted you.”

“i know,” he replied, the weight of his guilt clear in his expression. “i shouldn’t have just left without even attempting to have a conversation. but after what she put me through, i didn’t want to put you through the same thing. i didn’t want you to feel like you had to deal with my issues for me. and, knowing you… you would’ve done just that. you would’ve sacrificed your needs and happiness for me, and i’d been in that exact position before. it always ends badly.”

the room fell silent as his words hung in the air. finally, jaemin continued, his voice softer. “i regretted it as soon as i sent that message, though. i tried to reach out, to fix things, but you blocked me on everything. i even tried to see you in person, but… ryujin told me to stay away.”

you let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “oh god… ryujin… of course.”

he hesitated on his next words, but ultimately pushed through it. “i know it’s not enough to make up for what i did. i know it’s not going to change how much i hurt you. but i need you to know that i really am here, and i’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.”

your eyes locked onto his, the vulnerability in them matching your own. “you hurt me, jaemin. and i don’t know how long it’s going to take for me to get past that.”

he nodded, his gaze dropping. “i get it. and if you want me to back off, i will. but if there’s even a small part of you that wants to give this another try, then… let me prove that i’ve changed.”

after a long moment, you finally whispered, “i’ll forgive you, jaemin.” you lowered your voice even more, “i-i still love you too.” jaemin perked up at that note. “but i need you to really show me that you mean it. prove to me that you love me the way you say you do.”

his eyes softened with a glimmer of hope. “i will. whatever it takes.”

the storm outside continued, but somehow, you felt a little more grounded.

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NOTES | omfg sorry friends i've been so busy but mayhaps this hella long and long awaited chapter is worth it!!!! TAGLIST (open!) | @polarisjisung @tommina @luvv4bby @222low @luluvhs @spideykeyring @dudekiss3r @sunghoonsgfreal @jeonghansshitester @injunnie-lemon @eternallyhyucks @njmluvr @n0hyuck @junviadinho @hyunnies-world @hahaechans @p4tyaraujo @baeseungcheolie @untilthesunrises @lotties-readings @mango-bear @angelicaleex @jungaji @luvvhaechan @lionzyon @y4wnjunz @luvandletter @applejaem @pikibell @keeryverse @botchedbrat @mystverse @t-102 @skzfairies @andyprkmyluv @gomdoleemyson

bold = couldn't tag

[electric-friend]

i’ve got so many unfinished fics in my drive and maybe even one published one where someone calls stede strong and brave for maintaining his softness even when life pushes back.

recently i feel like stede made a choice ed and izzy have both made in the past that they’ve always wished they never did, and stede could have been spared from. at the very least i think it hurt ed to see the version of himself he hates in stede. he probably thinks stede wanted to become that man for reasons other than stede has been bullied his entire life for being inadequate and told a man a bit like blackbeard is a real man.

call me crazy or whatever but i actually think a major thing that should be communicated between ed and stede is something on stede’s end. his trauma and his feelings and his issues. as it stands now, i don’t think ed understands what’s going on with stede. i don’t think he understands the person stede really wants to be. i don’t think he understands stede’s own issues of self-doubt and stede’s insecurities. hell i don’t think ed even has that much of a grasp of how unpopular and disliked stede has always been his entire life. and i think maybe if stede explained himself better, ed would understand more of what was going on. that he wouldn’t be seeing stede as manifesting something he wants to escape from, he would see stede as someone he needs to help escape with him.