#whatever other stupid fucking labels people have made up for being normal

[rosatherad]

An anti told me to kill myself today so I'm looking for new mutuals in Roblox fandoms. My biggest most cherished Roblox fandom is Super Paper Roblox but I'm down to make friends with people in fandoms I'm not interested in.

I'm an adult. I started playing Roblox 12 years ago when I was a kid. I would rather NOT be neck-deep in fandom purity discourse but I don't really have a choice anymore.

My Discord is RosaTheRad feel free to send me a friend request or a server invite

[toytulini]

gatekeeping weirdness now? yall have the energy for this? silly goose behavior(derogatory and dismissive) for sure

[tsbs-ship-hate-confessions]

Honest to God there is nothing more hypocritical of a bunch of whiny proshippers complaining about hate

yet preach free speech as long as they get to jerk off to kids getting fucked by their parents.

The hypocrisy is appalling.

'oh oh proshipping doesn't mean that stuff anymore, we're Clearly anti censorship oh oh the horrors of being called a creep for making celestialcest smut and giggling about siblings diddling each other. but we totally don't glorify dark topics why would you say such a thing'

like pick a fucking struggle. deal with the consequences of your actions. None of this is okay.

And mind you, this is coming from someone who is a major proponent of dark fiction. people should get to write whatever fucked up shit they want to. coping, venting, idc the reason

but you cannot honest to God be stupid enough to assume you're not a walking red flag. No one owes you trust that you're 'doing it for the right reasons' or 'don't support the morally stripped content' just like how you don't have to owe anyone an explanation. That street goes both ways

It's even stupider, when these fucks are all like 'u should clearly know I don't condone this'. I'm sorry, are we all a hivemind now? Are we above communication? It literally cost nothing to add a note of 'hey btw I think this shit isn't okay in case you can't read the room'. if ppl decide to assume bad faith after that then that's on them. but being a fucking mule about it? really? thought we were supposed to be adults here

speaking of which

"Children shouldn't be reading this anyway, My audience is smarter than that" ok thanks for infatizing and being ablest. nothing says fun like attempting to grow and try new things regardless of learning disabilities. or do you think we all roll over and die before highschool?

Also are we gonna brush past the part where the sun and moon show is literally made with kids in mind? Why again are we so desperate for smut over a show literally built around found family? 'everyone here is so immature' yeah bud, it takes one to know one. we were all kids. all of us were the newbies of the internet at one point. I ain't saying ya gotta hold anyone's hand or babysit but is throwing a hissy fit over finding spiders in a jar labeled spider the hill you really wanna die on? if you don't like it, leave

you literally preach that same shit yet seldomly follow your own advice.

Actually, let's go a step further: you're not welcomed here anymore than the gore anons are

P.S.

The reason why murder and gore is more acceptable than pedophilia smut is because one of these attracts actual predators. Porn is still porn at the end of the day, whether it's video or a picture, or words. and if it's on a screen it will fuck your head up the same way you can't have just one cigaret. it's always 'one more can't hurt' until it's an addiction you cannot escape from. And once someone is in that cycle, it gets worse. because soon the same thing that got rocks off doesn't work anymore. so then you find something stronger to get that high. then you have to find another stronger way to get that same effect

And that is exactly how convicted pedophiles go from using fictional kiddy porn to actual csem. There is actual fucking evidence for this shit with neurobiology and psychology to back it up

TL;DR violent video games don't create serial killers because people can only have a dopamine addiction. video game addiction is like sugar addiction Porn however can most definitely create pedophiles and rapist because of the involvement of dopamine, oxytocin, norepinephrine, vasopressin. porn addiction is like meth or heroin

These 2 are Not remotely comparable to the other 2

ALL, actions have consequences. It does not matter if you are a celebrity, or a fic author with 3 views. You are not an exception, and you feed the machine that gets kids groomed, trafficked, and even killed when you choose to sexualize and normalize pedophilia and incest.

So if you're getting shamed for getting giddy over shipping shit like Killcode and Bloodmoon or Sun and Dazzle. maybe you should think long and hard about why that is.

This is so much bigger than fighting over 'making dolls kiss'.

Get the fuck out of a fandom filled with kids before you get someone hurt

-

[explosiontooth]

My edzier 🚬

The hospital inside Mordhaus had seen a lot of carnage. It routinely treated patients who were dismembered, disfigured, disemboweled, and most of them made full recoveries. At least, that’s what Crozier heard. It seemed too good to be true. He prayed that it was true once he entrusted Edgar in their care.

He walked through the long drafty hallways, following behind a nurse klokateer. In a normal hospital, the walls and floor might be colored white and blue, but of course, this was still Mordhaus, so everything was a deep black and red. It still smelled like alcohol.

“So, are you family or something?” The klokateer asked him, trying to make small talk.

“No, I’m just… a friend.” Crozier had to embellish the truth a little. The last time he and Edgar talked, he was pretty sure he still hated him a Bit. Their current relationship was hard to apply a label to. He clutched the flowers he had brought to his chest. Maybe he was being a bit bold.

Turning a corner, they approached a room that looked like all the other ones. Crozier’s stomach turned. He had no idea what he’d find on the inside. The Edgar he had given to them was barely responsive, barely recognizable. No matter what, something will be different.

A doctor exited the room as they got closer. They looked like a normal doctor, except they wore a hood and their white coat was sleeveless, standard to the klokateer uniform. They seemed relieved to see the nurse.

“Hey. I‘m gonna go for lunch in about 10. You mind keeping an eye on this guy for me? I had to restrain him again.” The doctor huffed as they spoke, sounding exhausted.

Being restrained didn't sound good, but Crozier felt relieved that he was at least awake enough to do something that would require him to be restricted.

“Don't need to.” The nurse responded. “He’s got a visitor.” They gestured towards Crozier. He awkwardly raised his hand to greet the doctor.

“Oh, hey.” They reached out to shake Crozier’s hand. “I haven’t seen you here yet.”

“I’ve been busy with my own stuff,” he explained. Quite the understatement. “I was the one who.. found him. I just wanted to see how he’s recovering.”

“Yea, sure! You know what, I should probably go over everything with you..” the doctor took the clipboard that was attached to the wall and skimmed over the top page, before signaling to the nurse that they could return to whatever they were doing. “Let’s see here… So, we had severe burns, gunshot wound in the shoulder, gunshot wound in the arm, broken femur, shattered legs… and a concussion.”

Crozier’s eyes widened as they read down the list. He let out an astonished “God…” once they finished. No doubt, it was thanks to some otherworldly power that this man was still alive.

“He actually got it pretty good. The bullets didn’t hit anything that can’t grow back. And it’s not like he was using his legs anyway, so he won’t need to go to rehab.”

He had no idea how this guy could just brush off all the injuries he just listed off. But in retrospect, plenty of people get shot and break their legs. Especially around here. It was the burns that were the most concerning.

“What about the burns on his face? Does he need a skin donor? I could-“

“No need.” The doctor cut off his suggestion. “He had plenty of excess skin. Trust me. Especially around his face. Anyway, he should be out of here in a week.”

“A week?!”

It had been six months since the metalocalypse. The world was just barely starting to get back up on its feet again. It would make sense for him to start to recover. In Crozier’s mind, his injuries just weren’t something you recover from. He’d seen plenty of men die from less.

Maybe it was hope that kept him alive. Maybe it was prayer. Or maybe it was the fact that Mordhaus doctors were really fucking good.

“Yea..” the klokateer looked at him like he was stupid for questioning the timeframe. “He got it pretty good compared to some of the other guys. Anyway, have fun in there. And if he asks you to take his restraints off… don’t.” They gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and walked off.

For a few seconds, he was alone. He took a breath and quietly stepped inside the open room, ready to face what was inside.

The overhead lights of the room were off, the only light inside coming from the smoky orange sunset peaking through the blinds, and Jeopardy reruns playing on the TV with the sound off. Edgar sat in the bed against the wall, head turned towards the window. The casts that covered his legs stuck out from underneath the blanket.

Neither of them said anything for a good few moments. Maybe Crozier should have thought of what he was going to say in advance. In the moment, nothing was coming to mind.

Edgar ended up speaking first. “I’m surprised to see you, General.” He muttered, head still faced away.

“You are? Frankly, I’m surprised to see you.”

“Hm, well, you shouldn’t be. It seems neither of us can just die.”

Edgar turned to face him. The orange light shone upon him like a searing flame, highlighting the puffy red burn scar that now decorated his face, tracing down from his ear to his chin. Crozier’s mind flashed back to when he found him lying there, nearly dead in the snow. His skin flaked and bubbled like melted plastic. He tried to suppress the memory, but burning flesh is the kind of thing you don’t forget.

His expression was unreadable. He looked angry, or maybe sad. But mostly tired.

“You got me flowers.”

“…Of course I did. Everyone deserves flowers when they’re sick. Here.” He gently placed the small bouquet of red roses in the other man’s lap.

He reached for the flowers but the fabric strap restraints kept his hands close to the sides of the bed. He pulled against them, but they wouldn’t give.

“Get these off of me, will you?” Edgar asked as softly as his naturally irritated voice would allow.

“Uh, I’m not supposed to…”

“Of course.” He scoffed, any ounce of kindness in his voice gone, “You just do whatever people tell you to.”

Crozier didn’t want to admit it but it was true. When you’re in the military all your life, following every order you’re given gets baked into your psyche. He often wondered if he would have done what Salacia had asked of him even if he wasn’t possessed, before suppressing the thought in his mind.

He relented. “Fine. Just don’t do anything crazy.” He sighed, and got to work untying the straps on one side.

Edgar smiled. It was endearing, despite the fact he was being a total shithead right now. As soon as his hand was free, he chuckled weakly. “And you did it again. No wonder you’re so easy to work with.”

Shit. He got him. Crozier sighed and gave him the stink eye.

“I’m not untying the other side.”

“I only needed you to do one.” He spoke, all high and mighty. Without skipping a beat, he proceeded to dislocate his thumb on his hand that was still restricted and work it out from its restraint. Once it was free, he reset his finger like it was nothing. Crozier could only watch in astonishment.

Finally taking the bouquet in his hands, he rubbed his fingers between the soft petals of one of the flowers. They were fresh and still a little cool to the touch. He smiled again, this time out of genuinely being happy, instead of being a dipshit. He looked to Crozier, his dark eyes glistening in the light.

“Thank you. Although I’m not sure why you went through the trouble.”

“I just don’t want you to be alone.” He took a second to pause and think. “I understand you, you know. Everyone lost something in the Metalocalypse. But me and you, we lost everything before that.”

“How so?”

He looked off into nothing. “You think Salacia went to Thanksgiving in my body? Or talked to my daughter? He took five years from my life, and it’s gonna take the rest of it to fix the damage he did.”

“You’re not going to just lay down and die?”

“Of course not.”

Edgar smirked. “That makes you better than me, then.” He broke eye contact and looked at the floor. “You’re a good person, under everything.”

A backhanded compliment, but it was an improvement. “So are you.”

Edgar’s good person was probably buried much deeper, but it was obviously there. He had a big heart. Out of everyone involved in the Metalocalypse he had the closest chance at having a normal life. But maybe he could get another shot at it. Maybe they both could.

“It seems we’re more similar than we are different.” Edgad shifted his focus to the bouquet still in his hand, his other hand absentmindedly scratching his scar. “I wouldn’t mind getting more flowers from you.”

“Hey, one more week, right? How about I treat you to a nice meal instead?”

“I would love to, General.”

“…about that.” Crozier scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I left the military. I’m not a general anymore.”

“Then what’s your name?”

[starsarefire824]

things i wish we could all stop fighting about:

1. bi mike vs. gay mike nonsense. believe what you want, but canon Mike dates El and we have not been shown anything else as of yet besides some subtext and hints towards him being queer. Until then...none of us know. until then...THEY ARE BOTH valid depending on how you read the character and the writing. i personally lean towards bi, but i generally believe in the show, if they go for mike being queer, he could most definitely be gay. if mike wheeler came out in the first episode and told me he is the gayest man to walk the planet i would be like....uhm yes. but also....if he’s a men leaning bi character or whatever other combination of bi he might be...i’ll also believe it. in the end, imo, if it’s made clear that he is queer and in love with will, his sexuality will probably not be labeled neatly with a bow on it anyway. so the entirety of the arguing is stupid.

2. the fact that teenagers may or may not have sexual desire and attraction and act on those instincts in some way makes people who discuss or explore it in writing somehow disgusting. it’s not. (ie. talking about the “hose scene” is valid, writing about teenagers feeling desire for the person they have a crush on is normal.) sex is normal. sexual desire is normal. it starting to happen as you go through puberty is normal. to deny this fact or make people feel weird about talking about is doing every teenager in this fandom that experiences sexual attraction and desire a very large disservice. there is nothing shameful about it. there is something shameful about making someone else feel disgusting for their completely normal feelings because they make you uncomfortable. and every show/film/book written about teenagers and their sexual lives has been written by someone who is mostly likely over the age of 18. so to say that fanfic writers or people who are in fandom discourse are somehow deviants is the most insane argument i have ever read in my entire life.

3. things such as pointing out how mike may have issues with food, el may be behind her peers in being able to handle a more adult romantic relationship, lucas facing racism, and will dealing with trauma that mimics sexual abuse are all legitimate and worthy of discussion. whether it makes people uncomfortable or not. these are topics that have been brought up/alluded to in the show, and they’re allowed to be talked about by the fans.

ok i lied. there are four.

4. stop shitting on people for their headcanons. if someone wants to headcanon will as asexual and homo-romantic there is nothing wrong with that. if someone wants steve harrington to be bisexual, there is nothing wrong with that. if someone wants max to be poly there’s nothing wrong with that. believe me, the people who headcanon this are usually very aware that it is not canon. we all watch the show. but if it’s fun for them to explore that with a character in writing or art or discussion then cool. it’s adding layers to the conversation around these characters and is valid. snidely saying you’ll block someone for a fucking headcanon is wild to me. i am all for blocking things that make you uncomfortable or if someone just annoys you....sure. great. but blocking every single person who disagrees with you is so silly to me because you are making your garden very small. it’s important in discourse to engage with people who have different opinions than you. as long as everyone stays respectful i encourage people with different opinions to interact with me. PLEASE. it’s the entire point of joining an online community. we bond over something we love and then have discussions about it.

[timmie-p]

It was an accident, really.

I’m ringing up the last item on this lady’s haul, a can of some brand-name soup. Soup isn’t my thing, but whatever, I don’t judge. Really. To each their own, I guess.

It’s about three minutes past the end of my shift and she seems to be taking her sweet time digging each individual piece of change out of her purse. Fine. Not like I’m in a hurry to get home or anything. Bitch.

Sorry, not bitch. My therapist tells me I need to work on my assumptive attitude toward other people’s motives in non-hostile situations. Basically, be less judgemental. I’m working on it. Really, I am.

Anyway, she finally counts out the money and hands it to me. She’s just short of the total amount and I can tell she’s hoping I don’t notice, but I just sigh and send her on her way. My shift was over approximately… four minutes ago. I technically don’t even work here anymore. Not my problem. Fuck ‘em companies.

She ambles out the doors and I start locking up the place as fast as I can. My cat is waiting for me and that idiot will eat up my bedsheets if I don’t get home to feed him in time. I hate that stupid little shit.

Now, the store is in an okay area. Graffiti, trash, piss on the sidewalks, the usual stuff. Not posh by any means, but I’m not worrying about getting my sorry twig ass stabbed even when it’s getting dark out now. That’s why seeing the dude there was so goddamn weird.

I’m going through the motions, trying each of the keys to find which one is the right one — they all look the same. Maybe someone (cough cough, my bitchass forgetful manager) should start labelling them. It’s fine, I don’t care. Really.

I start hearing this rattling coughing and shuffling behind me as I’m wrapping it all up. Probably some homeless dude with a cold. The guys in the area have learned that I’ll usually “donate” a box or two of medicine if I can sneak it, but I’ve already locked up today and I’m in a hurry to get home. My shit-for-brains cat is going to start ravaging my bed soon and I just washed my sheets, thank you.

I turn around to let him know I’ve got nothing for him and I’m met with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life. Really, I swear. He’s got that facial structure models have and his hair is messy in that “actor in a movie who supposedly just woke up” kind of way. A face my baby sister would squeal at and make fancams for or whatever weird shit she does. The kind of guy that pointedly does not belong in front of this shitty store looking at my very much average face.

He’s all dressed up in an expensive-looking suit with a watch that looks like it’s worth more than several years of my salary. There’s a unique pin on the breast of his suit jacket, probably the logo of some company I can’t be bothered to recognise. And also he’s splattered in blood. And also he’s definitely Rich with a capital R. In a “dude what are you doing here shouldn’t you be gambling with inferior people’s money in crypto stocks or something” kind of way. I fucking hate Rich people.

He’s hunched over, blood dripping from his side, and panting like one of those pugs trying to suck in air through its malformed snout after taking the shortest easiest walk known to man. Probably deserved it, honestly. Wait, no, I’m being judgmental again, I don’t even know this dude. For all I know he’s a perfectly normal, perfectly nice dude who is also suffering from a severe and perhaps life-threatening injury.

I’m looking at him, he’s looking at me. At this point, I’m mentally going over my last therapy session and trying to recall what my therapist said about approaching difficult and unfamiliar situations with an open mind.

“So… you alright?” I open, and immediately I can feel that I have made a Social Blunder. Great. A plus for effort. Wrap it up boys we’ve hit nothing and it’s time to jump off a bridge. Sorry, I didn’t actually mean jump off a bridge, just a force of habit. Gotta keep a positive outlook and all that.

He’s staring at me like I’m stupid (I am) and there’s a beat of silence. My palms start sweating and I really just want to walk away and forget about this interaction entirely, but this guy does seem to be. Dying. Of sorts. So it really isn’t in my moral conscience to just leave him there.

He wheezes something unintelligible and I swallow. Ok, let’s try this again.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. How would you like me to help you?”

Ok. The customer service voice wasn’t exactly what I was going for. But good attempt. I pat myself on my back for recovering the social situation.

“Hospital,” he groans, and wow he sounds gorgeous too, like he could narrate audiobooks or documentaries. And yes, of course, hospital. For the injury. Yes.

“My car is parked just down the block, I could give you a lift if you’d like?”

He again looks at me like I’m stupid, and I take that as a yes.

I ease my arm around him to prop him up and help him walk, and he is heavy. Dude is absolutely ripped and it’s all fucking muscle mass. Whatever. I am not going to drop him and make him walk himself with all those fucking muscles. But I am very tempted by the idea.

I somehow manage to drag him all the way to the car and set him down to catch my breath. I plop him against the side of the car and there’s this almost hilarious contrast between his first class looks and my shitty, secondhand ride. I keep my laughter to myself, though.

I pull out my key and shove it into the little lock on the handle of the passenger side. There’s this little manoeuvre you have to do where you push the door in and pull the handle slightly upwards while you unlock it or else it won’t open properly. It’s annoying but I usually don’t have any passengers so I haven’t bothered getting it fixed.

I adjust him into a princess carry and put in all my strength to lift him up and push him into the passenger’s seat. Lift with your legs, not your back. Well, lift with your entire fucking body because holy shit he is massive and I do not exercise on a regular basis. I think I jostled his wound in the process by the way he gasped but at least he’s in the car now.

I buckle him in and shut the door, making my way to the driver’s seat. I’m just starting up the car when I think to myself that I do not have time for this shit. It’s been twenty minutes since the end of my shift, there is a dying guy in the passenger seat of my car, my sheets are going to be ribbons by the time I get home, and wow I am low on petrol.

This guy better fucking pay for my petrol.

I roll into the street and start down the route to the hospital. The guy is still doing that rattling wheezing which is probably very much not good. Didn’t help that I probably maybe definitely made it worse while getting him into the car. His blood is pooling onto the seat and that stain is never coming out. He needs medical attention ASAP.

The hospital isn’t close, but I do know a few shortcuts around the city.

We’re approaching the first turn when I see a couple of black cars coming up from behind me in the rearview mirror. Huh, that’s strange. There’s usually not many people out this late around here.

I signal with my blinker and start turning when I hear this loud bang and the entire car shakes. What the fuck. This piece of shit cannot be breaking down right now.

Thankfully, it keeps chugging along and I glance up at the mirror again.

There are. Several cracks. In my rear window. Those wasn’t there before, I think. I would have noticed them. Okay, fine, whatever. Gotta get that shit fixed later. I guess.

I’m halfway down the street when I see the black cars turn on as well. They are going really fast. Must be in a hurry or something. However I am also in a hurry because the dude next to me is still dying. Fuck.

That’s when the second bang comes, the car shakes again, I look up and there are several more cracks in the window.

Okay what the fuck is happening?

The black cars are fast approaching behind me. Their windows are all tinted so I can’t see who’s in them, but the closest one has its window on the passenger side rolled down and there’s an arm stuck out on the side of it, fiddling with some kind of device.

Oh my god is that a gun. Am I being shot at with a gun. What the fuck. What the fuck.

I make the next turn, and the man next to me groans again.

“Wrong way to hospital,” he grunts, shifting to sit up properly.

“Shortcut,” I reply tersely, because what the fuck is going on right now.

The black cars are still following me. My hands are trembling and the car swerves a bit. There’s another bang and the shot narrowly grazes the external mirror. Mmm. Holy fucking shit.

The guy is unbuckling his seatbelt, and I do not care. If he wants to fucking fly through the windshield and become a meat crayon on the road when we inevitably crash because someone is shooting at us then he’s free to do so.

My hands are shaking and I can barely keep the car straight. Another few shots miss, I think. I don’t know, my mind isn’t processing any of this.

The man reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a fucking gun. Okay. Great. This is great. What the fuck did I get myself into.

He’s shakily loading bullets in when another shot hits. There’s a sound of shattering glass and the car jolts. When I look up, there is a gaping hole in the back window of my car and the black cars behind me are driving very, very fast.

I step on the accelerator.

As my car slowly accelerates because of course it struggles to reach anything above the speed limit, the man pushes himself up and takes aim behind us.

The sound that comes from the gun right next to my ear is so loud that the world suddenly goes silent.

There’s a brief moment where I think I’ve died. The bullet must have hit me and I’ve died. The world is quiet and I’ve never noticed how loud my tinnitus is until now, when the silence is deafening. The moment seems to drag on forever, silence my fate for eternity.

Then a ringing starts, quiet at first like a fly in my ear and growing until its all I can hear and it echoes back and forth between the space in my skull.

The man is shouting something at me and I cannot hear him.

I spare myself a glance up, the cars are closing in. I press the accelerator all the way down.

We rip down the road, the fastest my car has ever gone in its decade of life. I think I hear the engine throbbing, rapid and intense and beating out of my chest like it’s trying to escape.

There’s another turn up ahead, one of those that look hidden from the angle road unless you know the route well. It’s bumpier but will cut the time to the hospital in half.

The man takes another shot. My ears ring again.

My hands are clenched so tight around the wheel that they’ve drained pale and bloodless. My sweat coats the wheel and I’m scared that my hold will simply slip off. I grip tighter.

There are more cars coming from the front.

These ones are also black, windows tinted, but each is emblazoned with a logo on the front that looks vaguely familiar.

Windows roll down, hands out the windows, also holding guns, great fine wow haha.

I jerk the wheel and the car barrels through the turn.

The road here is much more narrow and unkempt. My car is practically bouncing over the potholes and I’m praying that a tire doesn’t blow. Not here, not now.

Thankfully, whatever existence above seems to hear me and is even blessing its favourite little mortal because the turn was sudden enough that it threw off both sides of our pursuers, at least for long enough to let us gain some distance.

My ears are still ringing and I’m going to have a hell of a story to tell my cat when I get home. If I get home.

“Keep driving,” the guy rasps. “They’ll catch up soon.”

I continue forward dutifully.

We’re speeding through when the whine of a police siren starts up from off to the side. Just what I needed. I fucking hate my life.

I ignore the officer. Fuck the cops, whatever.

And just my luck, the black cars are on our trail again.

I’m so dead. I’m so fucking dead.

The hospital is so close. Three more turns and we’ll be there.

I can make it.

One of the black cars has started gaining on us again, the first that shot at us previously. It’s the same arm as before.

The arm raises to take another shot and the black car is rammed from behind. The arm drops the gun.

It’s one of the emblazoned cars coming up from behind. The passenger in the car shoots at the first black car and it’s a bullseye, home run, hole in one, the car crashes and the logo rolls on forward.

My heart soars; they’re helping us. We’re going to make it.

Then a well-aimed shot takes out my right external mirror.

Ah. Right. So that’s a no-go.

The emblazoned cars continue to shoot both at the unmarked black cars and at my car, while the unmarked cars defend themselves and shoot at us. The police sirens are getting louder.

I make the turn, clipping the curb. Not good for my tires. No time to think about that.

Two more turns.

My breathing is fleeting and it feels like I can’t get enough air.

The man unloads several shots in succession. I think my eardrum has been blown out.

He curses and ducks back into his seat.

“Out of bullets.”

My eyes flit to him. He’s bleeding harder now. The blood is definitely never coming out of that seat.

“Mn.”

What else can I say? Not like I can fucking reload his gun with my mind. We’re so fucked.

My car is making an awful clanking noise and it feels like I’m holding it together through sheer willpower.

There’s police cars coming up in front of us. They’re starting to set up some sort of blockade and I cannot deal with this right now.

They haven’t closed up the road entirely yet. I eye the space on the very side.

Another shot hits and I cut across the road.

There’s a high-pitched, ear piercing, nails-on-chalkboard screeching as the car scrapes against the blockade. I shut my eyes and clench my teeth.

I come out the other side with two less doors and several years shaven off my lifespan.

A breath escapes me and there are police officers shouting from behind.

Black cars ram into the blockade and destroy it.

Not out of the fire yet.

They’ve slowed down, taking damage from the barrier, but are still right on our tail. Bullets fly out around us. I can’t tell how many have hit.

We’re going so fast that I almost miss the opening.

I twist the wheel as fast as I can. Taking the corner, the car pitches and both I and the man are thrown to the side. He, not wearing a fucking seatbelt, slams into the side.

“Sorry,” I mutter, even though it’s his fucking fault.

One more turn.

I suck in a breath. We just need to make it over this last stretch.

A bullet flies through the open back and skims right past my cheek through the windshield.

Glass shards fall onto my dashboard. I yank a hand away from the wheel but a piece still finds itself embedded in my arm.

The car veers and I curse under my breath.

Both hands back on the wheel. Worry later. Drive now.

Zipping down the street and everything burns red hot. My chest is beating so hard I can’t even breathe. Vision is darkening around the edges and everything is blurry. Ears still ringing.

Turn up ahead.

Cars behind. Getting closer.

There are no more unmarked black cars. Looks like the emblazoned ones took them all out.

I’m next.

Right there. I can make it.

The man is still heaving beside me, albeit fainter now.

I wrench the wheel and the car lurches.

We drift, wheels making an ungodly noise against the road. They were not made for this.

I’m desperately spinning the wheel, trying to regain control as my car slips. At least we’re still going in the right direction. Shit.

By some miracle, I tug the wheel just enough, blowing past the sidewalk right into the hospital lot.

Holy shit we made it.

I look at the man slumped in the passenger’s seat. Still bleeding but still breathing.

The fact that he’s held on for all that is honestly a feat of wonder. Perhaps he’s even set the world record for most blood lost without dying. He’s definitely won the record for most blood soaked into my fucking seat on account of being the only contestant.

Cars rumble in beside us. And in front. And behind.

Hm.

Perhaps I should have realised that they would not stop their pursuit simply because I reached my destination.

This is not good.

People in suits start getting out of the cars.

I draw in a shaky breath and prepare to meet my end. My therapist put in so much effort for me and here I am, about to die anyway. Not even on my own terms. And who’s going to feed that little idiot waiting for me at home? I hope my neighbours will take him in once they realise I’m not coming back.

Fuck.

They approach the passenger’s side first, jiggling the handle. It doesn’t open, of course.

“Sorry, dude,” I murmur to the poor guy bleeding out beside me. All this and I couldn’t even get him to a damn hospital.

There’s someone reaching in from the doorless opening on my side. I stare at the towering man who grabs my shoulder, his eyes staring unflinchingly back at me. Fuck, I want to see it when it happens.

Every embarrassing and regretful moment of my life starts flashing before me (woah, just like in the movies) and I’m internally apologising to Mimi for tugging on her braids when I was 6 when the man next to me raises his hand.

“They’re with me,” he chokes out.

The grip on my shoulder loosens.

The passenger’s window shatters and someone unlocks the door from the inside. They get a hold on the man and lift him out easily. Maybe I need to start working out.

“Get out,” the tall man orders gruffly. I hastily unbuckle the seat belt, fumbling with the band until I just give up and let it dangle loosely.

As I step out of the car, I notice how dark it’s gotten. It hadn’t really registered while I was driving, but the sun has set completely and I’m usually home by this time, enjoying myself some soggy microwaved dinner after serving my stupid cat.

They’re carrying the injured man towards the hospital now, and I catch another glimpse at the pin on his blazer. It’s the same as the logo emblazoned on the cars surrounding me.

If they work for him why were they fucking shooting at us?? Employees planning a coup?

The tall man notices my questioning gaze and clears his throat.

“We apologise. We believed you were a hostile entity and had not received any orders to halt our assault. We were to take our leader back by any means possible.”

Okay. Thanks big guy, that explains so much. Really. For sure.

Five points of interest.

One: What the fuck.

Two: Did I get myself involved in some goddamn mob shit.

Three: I need to piss.

Four: I need to go home and feed my cat. And then go to sleep and never wake up. Everything aches.

Five: What the fuck.

I hear police sirens in the distance. Mm, great. Okay.

I look at my car. Or what’s left of my car. It’s missing two doors, all the windows are shattered, and there are numerous bullet holes in it.

A marvel that none of them hit me. No, one almost hit me earlier. My cheek is burning and there’s blood dripping down my face.

And now that I’m starting to think about it, pain is rushing back into my system full force. My arm radiates a stabbing sensation where glass is still lodged and I’m scraped and bruised all over my body.

The tall man has gone to talk with the others. I can see the police starting to pull in to the lot.

A woman splits off from their group and walks over to me. She looks kinda like a professor I had in college, that sharp-eyed, stick-up-their-ass kind of look. I really don’t have the energy to talk, so I just nod at her and she nods back.

“I’ll escort you to get medical attention first. We will take care of any police attention.”

I don’t know and I don’t care to find out what that entails.

I follow her wordlessly and the rest is a blur. Someone patches me up and I somehow make it back home without my car. Maybe that guy’s employees (underlings?) sent me back, I don’t know.

I flick on the lights and the idiot is already yowling at my feet. The remains of my bedsheets cover everything. I fill his bowl up with the entire can of the deluxe tuna I save for special occasions and drag myself onto my bare mattress.

The stupid little guy rushes in, tuna still on his whiskers, and curls up onto me as I pass out from exhaustion.

The next day, I wake up to a sleek, new car and an invitation to become a personal driver. I have a penchant for staying calm and quiet in difficult situations, I’m told. Starting salary in the six-figures.

Well, I can’t say I agree with the evaluation of my character, but it’s an offer that’s hard to turn down. Really.

I guess my idiot will be having deluxe tuna more often, huh.

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS

Too many beds

Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

Really nice guy who hates only you

Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class

Divorce of convenience

Too much communication

True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)

Dating your enemy’s sibling

Lovers to enemies

Hate at first sight

Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead

Fake amnesia

Soulmates who are fated to kill each other

Strangers to enemies

Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

Too hot to cuddle

Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground

Nursing home au

[agumonger]

tangent! "being a man".

tangent! how i overthink things

tangent! how i finally figured it out and realized i am, indeed, just a cis dude

it really helped me to realize that while i don't want to be an andrew tate alphahead fast cars football materialism hiding your emotions type man, and i don't want to be a femboy either, i do want to be the kind of man that irradiates a wholesome energy, maybe a bit wacky, but not without a certain kind of wisdom, nerdy but not the petty incel entitled um akshually type, i want to have healer animal talker character type energy, i want to have gentle giant energy, bob ross energy, posy energy, i want to be fascinated by life and by humanity and make people feel like the time they spend with me is time that counts, i want to make them feel safe, loved, supported. i want to create beautiful things, i want to make people go through emotions with what i make, perhaps even discover something about themselves. i want to be warm and approachable and strange and unpredictable and hilarious and idealistic. i want to believe in things like love, honesty and kindness

that's the kind of man i want to be

the detachment that i always felt from traditional masculinity was never truly about aesthetic, or about gender identity, it was always about the toxicity. it's not about dysphoria - i've actually learned to like my body, too. i'm not a demiboy or agender or nb or anything of the sort, i just. don't like the extremely narrow definition of what masculinity is supposed to be, but i don't feel attracted towards the other side either, which is why i always hesitated to speak up about my issues, like "can i really say i'm Not Attached to my Own Gender(TM) if the idea of wearing makeup or a pearl necklace or a skirt clearly makes me glitch out?" was always the question that made me stay silent. "you're overthinking", i told myself, "you're not inventing Masculinity 2 you're just Some Guy. don't be so full of yourself"

and like, actually, yeah of course! of course i'm just some guy! i kept looking at the issue backwards. i kept asking myself "am i really a man?" when the question was "is the stupid ass alpha male method the only valid way to be a cis man, without being labeled as queer?" which, yeah, i am queer (bi) but still!! of course not! of course that's not the only valid way. it's just the most common one that dudes follow, but it doesn't have to be like that

i'm not *not* a man, i'm just not macho and that's different. and yes, 90% of people would consider my outward appearance to still be milquetoast and basic and normal as fuck and that's okay as well. i'm not the type that obsessively hates everything related to the alpha/chad aesthetic thing either

and yeah you might be like "but jojo, you had a gender questioning phase? but you seem as regular vanilla as dudes go! look at you talking about videogames in a hoodie and jeans and a buzzcut" and you would be absolutely right. i just think Too Much About Things

bonus points for reading this: how many male fictional characters with a similar vibe do you know. because i'll probably love them. i love every character that has been written with the understanding that men can be sensitive and sincere with their emotions and vulnerable AND that difference doesn't have to imply any orientation or specific special label of gender identity AND that sensitivity is to be understood and respected and not laughed at

fun fact this is why i love himbos so fucking much. because they got the traditionally masculine aesthetic that i'm hopelessly attracted to (though i wouldn't apply it to myself) but also the potential for genuine sensitivity and kindness and gentleness. emotional intelligence

i think this phase of self-discovery and overthinking that started around lockdown is probably over.

extra bonus points for reading: whatever rappers had goin on aesthetically in the mid 2000s. that. bring it back idc

[cellophanewindow]

Something (not so) neat about my job is just how evil I can see people & organizations beyond the facade of public reputation. Also really gross I wrote those words like that, but moving on. This poor guy was forced to go to a psychward because of whatever his problems were, get off him, and they treat him like shit. I've been reading about these guys for a minute now, and their rep is bad. They try their hardest to only take in adolescent female patients, which would be normal, save for the fact that the hospital says nothing about this until people start trying to dump dudes there. Then this guy gets there, says the experience was so miserable he'd prefer offing himself, and now they're stalking him forever?? All of his info just passed to some third party health stalking service that exists? What the fuck is this hell we're stuck in? Why are a bunch of stooges so far stuck up their own ass selling sweaters & being called """""doctor""""" allowed to just label you as a monster and hound you forever because you had a bad day??

This isn't even the worst of it. If you ever become a psych patient, then prepared to get raped too apparently. Doubly so if you're a girl! "Oh just write a police report & file it." That's the response they're going to do!! So they force two people stuck in a weird mental episode into a room together, one gets weirder (no shit), and now you have two victims. One shamed, and the other set up to be made worse AGAIN.

Fucking stupid system. Yeah, I'm weird & obviously a bit uppity, but I'm glad that I got over my crazy episode without anyone in the world seeing it. Trust NO ONE with authority over you other than your family & God. You may think that it's 'part of the system' or whatever, but no, these people are just more fuckwits like you & I. They do not care, dude. They want their paycheck, and are happy to label you as something for some one else to deal with. If you have a problem then keep quiet, and stay safe.

[24hlevi]

can i just say that i've just finished reading that angst headcanons/imagines/scenarios or whatever it's supposed to be called about the boys reacting to y/n dying and i'm just...i'm just a sobbing mess.

it's well-written so 1000/10 for that, but whY MUST YOU ATTACK MY HEART IN THIS MANNER???? i love your work, but my poor heart ack-

btw is there any possibility to ask for a request for a same scenario but for kazutora, mitsuya, and hanma? like for kazutora's part, imagine if it wasn't yknow who died but its y/n 🥲

omg you’re so nice first of all thank you 😭 and OMG YES

TR Boys Reaction To You Dying Pt. 2

Tokyo Revengers Boys (Kazutora, Shuji, & Takashi) X Gn!Reader

Genre: Pure Angst

Warnings: Swearing, Suicide (kind of? it’s what happened to baji did so idk what to label it as 🤷‍♂️)

Hanemiya Kazutora:

All Kazutora could think was that it was all his fault that this happened. He was too caught up in his own world that he didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. He didn’t even know you had shown up to the fight until he stabbed you instead of Baji.

“Y/n?” Kazutora asked, dropping the knife immediately when he saw you standing between him and Baji, blood dripping onto the ground below you. He completely froze, not knowing what he had just done or why he even did it. “Baby, are you okay?”

You held onto the stab wound, coughing up blood as you looked at your boyfriend. “I just wanted you…to stop.” You choked out before collapsing to your knees.

Everyone had stopped and was watching you by now, shocked that you had even protected Baji from both sides when your whole body landed on the car below you. Spitting blood out of your mouth, you laid on your back, staring up at the blue sky that was dusted with white clouds.

“Y/n!”

You heard multiple people yell your name, but you couldn’t even tell who it was until you saw Kazutora kneeling beside you. “Y/n! Keep your eyes open, okay?!”

You shook your head from side to side, raising your hand to put it on Kazutora’s face before quietly speaking, “Give it to me, the knife.”

“What? Why? Look, Y/n you just gotta stay awake okay?” Kazutora spoke fast, clearly freaking out on both the outside and inside, not even caring about the gang fight anymore.

“Hand it over, Kazutora.” You said his full name which caused him to go quiet, staring down at you with saddened eyes before handing you the knife that already had your blood on it. “Thank you, babe. I love you.” You told him.

“I love you too, Y/n.” Kazutora said to you.

You bundled up your shirt at the top, putting it in your mouth so you had something to bite down on before plunging the knife into your stomach and twisting it around, then pulling it back out and dropping it.

Kazutora wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him as you lived your last moments, and he couldn’t even say anything. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I always will love you.” Was all he said after you died.

Kazutora then took the blame for killing you, resulting im him ending up in jail again but he wasn’t angry about it. He was just sad. So sad that he didn’t even try to get out of jail and get back into the gang life. He just sat around, continuously saying,

“It’s all my fault.”

Hanma Shuji:

Shuji swore that he would never allow you to get hurt while he was away doing gang activities that he didn’t want you included in. That’s why he always had someone beside you and a bodyguard to make sure you would always be safe. But even then, it didn’t work.

It was half past 1 in the morning when Shuji’s phone rang while he was with the other Valhalla members, beating up some random other gang member. Shuji stopped punching the other male, standing up straight and took his phone out of his pocket and opened it, answering. “Yes?”

“Shuji…”

Shuji’s breath hitched when he heard your shaky and quiet voice, and he immediately knew that something was wrong. “Y/n? Where are you, darling? Is something wrong?”

“I’m…at home. B-But someone..got in.” You tried your best to reply, but it was coming out shaky and slow. 

“I’ll be there in five minutes. I promise, baby. Okay? I love you.” Shuji told you before turning around and looking at everyone, taking the phone away from his ear. “Kazutora, you’re in charge until I get back, understand? As for everyone else, just do what you’re told.” He said to everyone, proceeding to then walk out and make his way onto the streets when he started to sprint down the different roads. 

Now he was just making sure that he made it to your place in five minutes like he said he would, which usually he would be able to do easily, but he was more determined now that he had heard something had gone wrong whilst he was away. Upon reaching your place, he saw the front door opened already and he quickly rushed inside. “Y/n?! Baby, where are you?!” He called out as he started to run through every room in the house. 

He finally made it to your room where you laid on the floor, a puddle of blood beneath you as you were taking shallow and slow breaths. “Y/n!” Shuji yelled out your name, going over to you and kneeling down beside you. He grabbed you and lifted you up, holding you in his arms as he checked for your pulse. When he felt it he let out a sigh of relief but it was very weak and barely noticeable which made him realize he probably only had a few more moments with you. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n. For not being here when I should have. I’m so fucking stupid, I should have just stayed here with you. I’m sorry, darling. I’m sorry.” Shuji said to you, his voice cracking halfway through as tears welled up in his eyes.

You looked up at him and smiled lightly despite you dying in his arms. “It’s okay, Shuji. Don’t...blame yourself. I still love you.” You had never seen the boy cry before, that’s how you knew that he did really love you, that he wasn’t just saying it so he could manipulate or get things from you. 

“I love you too.” Shuji whispered out. 

Soon enough, your head went limp and your eyes were stuck open, all of the life drained from your face as blood dirtied the floor and Shuji’s clothes. “Y/n? Y/n? Wake up, please.” The boy pleaded to your now deceased body, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to get you back. Not ever again. 

Shuji became what you would have never wanted him to become, a terrible person who killed anyone if they even looked at him the wrong way, and most importantly, one that drank all of his feelings after the day was over, crying to himself over your death still. 

Because he would never get you back. And he regretted that the most.

Mitsuya Takashi:

Takashi was the most important person in your life, just like you were to him. He had told you on multiple occasions that he wanted to be with you forever. And he thought it would really happen. Boy, was he wrong. So, so wrong. 

You two were walking down the busy street, eating street food while going inside stores and just admiring the night scenery. Everything was going perfectly normal, until it all changed within a few seconds. 

“Hey, babe?” Takashi said, looking over at you.

“Yeah?” You repled. 

“Do you wanna get married some day in the future?” 

The question that came out of your boyfrien’s mouth shocked you, and you didn’t know how to reply. You both were still teenagers, how the hell were you supposed to know? “Only if it’s you I’m marrying.” You aswered with a smile. 

Takashi smiled back and pressed his lips against yours before pulling away quickly after. “Same here.” He told you. 

Suddenly, car tires screeched on the black cement road and one zoomed around, an all black van. It’s windows opened and guns pointed out of them before they started to fire. Takashi quickly wrapped his body around you and covered you with his, not even caring if he would end up getting killed because of it. 

After the car drove off, Takashi looked at you and asked in a frantic voice, “Y/n, are you okay?”

You looked at him, then down to your side, shaking your head as you spat out blood. Takashi’s eyes widened as he yelled out your name, but you had collapsed onto the ground, grabbing at your abdomen where the gunshot wound was, blood beginning to soak through your clothes and onto the sidewalk below you. 

“No, no, no. Y/n! Stay with me!” He yelled, taking his phone out of his pocket and about to call the polce when you grabbed his hand, stopping him. “What?”

“Don’t. It’s okay.” You told him, a small smile on your face. 

“It’s not okay! I can’t lose you! We-We just talked about getting married some day!” The boy continued to yell.

“Maybe...in another life, we will.” You spoke barely above a whisper, your vision starting to darken and turn blurry. “I love you, Mitsuya Takashi.”

“I love you too, Y/n.” Takashi replied to you but you didn’t respond. “Y/n?” He reached his hand over and shook you gently, and when you didn’t move he looked at your face, then realizing that you were gone. He sat on the ground, and put his hands over his face, beginning to cry. 

Takashi cried and mourned over your death everyday, despite people telling him to move on. He just couldn’t. He would never be able to find someone he would love like he loved you. He knew that. So that’s how it remained the rest of his life. Lonely, and depressed. 

[3liza]

talking about flters and real beauty vs fake beauty and cultural standards etc always makes me think about all the victorian and edwardian novels i read, where the things that people thought about beauty were recorded at length. recently ive been reading a lot of Thomas Hardy (best known for Tess of the D’Urbervilles and Jude the Obscure) and there’s so much discussion of the beauty of people, particularly love interests, both men and women. and these writers, and their eras, and the culture of the eras, was of course obsessed with beauty and youth and also artificial beauty (being the eras of the really transformative corsets, not to mention some of the earliest industrialized or modernized beauty products or processes), as all human societies are to a greater or lesser extent in their own ways, but the thing that sticks out to me in reading these books is how beauty is not the singular or even the most important aspect of a person’s overall attraction. if someone has a beautiful face or figure, it is mentioned, but never to the obsessive, fixated extent that physical beauty is isolated from and elevated over all other features in modern american/western culture. there are plenty of protagonists or love interests in these books who are described as not young, or not remarkable, or not pretty, or even ugly or frightening, but nevertheless compellingly sexy and attractive, or simply interesting, or worthy in some way. 

its weird that the cultural consciousness has become seemingly ignorant of non-physical attraction. like that anon that was in my inbox talking about how they were “normal looking’ and therefore “needed” filters in order to “compete” with attractive people. it’s a weirdly mercenary and capitalist view of the social economy, first of all, which absolutely is not zero-sum no matter how badly the social networks want to convince us that it is. but there was never a single mention from that person about their ability to charm or entertain or attract using anything except a fake photo of themselves. wild. im fuckin worried about them! im worried about every young person how has brain worms

when i was about 4 and starting to become aware of how much adults were obsessed with my appearance because i was dainty and blonde and could do a passable shirley temple imitation, my parents gave me a very serious lecture about what physical beauty actually meant: i didn’t work for it (yet, i mean i do a lot of work now as an adult), it was given to me genetically. and someday, maybe sooner or more suddenly than anyone could predict, it would be gone. if accident, illness, or hardship didnt get me, old age eventually would. so with that being a certainty, i had better build a life and a personality on something other than my looks. and i said, ok. every day i get older im more grateful for that advice and the fact i decided to take it to heart instead of trying to gamble on Being Hot for long enough to get job security. which is also a valid career choice but it’s a risky one. always better to have a fallback just in case.

im of an age rn where a lot of women in my peer group are starting to get a very hunted vibe about the impending end of their youth, which is valid. theres nothing foolish about it, its not their fault, theyre not stupid or somehow lacking because this is an issue in their lives. but im noticing that i am significantly less freaked out by, idk, how long ago the 90s were or whatever, because i have been expecting to get old since i was in kindergarten. and i had adults around me who were just like “hey this is what old people look like and what bodies do over time. its not a big deal. everything on tv is fake btw”. i didnt get out unscathed, ive had eating disorders and all sort of weird brain-body problems. 

my advice i guess if i have any is to go outside and really look around you. notice how almost every single woman, and most men, has at least some cellulite, even if its just when theyre sitting down or whatever. notice how everyone has blemishes and zits. most people have some dandruff. if someone is wearing makeup, it’ll be cakey or balled up or smeared or uneven or clumpy even if it’s just a bit. everyone over the age of about 20 will have stretch marks somewhere, even if they aren’t visible except in certain light. i was under the impression i didnt have many until one time seeing a picture of my butt in FULL natural light and finally saw the entire surface of both cheeks was covered in straitions, they just were hard to see most of the time because im the color of drywall and scars tend to be light. it’s really easy to spot hair extensions and wigs and fake nails and fake tans and shapewear once you figure out how to see it. and none of these things take away from someone’s character. 

there’s a strong argument to be made that when corsetry was the norm, no woman was expected to simply be the shape of the corset unless she was actually wearing it. photographs and drawings of women in the 19th and early 20th century were retouched a bit as all photos have been, yes, but they were not retouched to make naked women appear to be corset-shaped. THAT is new. people are now getting surgery to be corset-shaped. and like, i dont think anyone should not be able to look however they want if they want to have that surgery. that is one meaning of cyborg feminism, probably. what i dont want, is for anyone to ever think that’s a normal way to look (except for veryvery tiny mathematical outliers, the Barbie Hips Georg of instagram) WITHOUT surgery or shapewear. which i see a lot now. i saw an instagram fashion designer with a very obviously surgically-altered body answer a question in her inbox about how she maintained her figure with some nonsense about diet and exercise. so now some (probably young) person out there is thinking that if they just do intermittent fasting enough, theyll look like a woman with butt and boob implants, a BBL, fillers, etc. that person probably thinks that if they arent able to diet and exercise good enough, they will fail at looking that way through their own laziness and lack of work ethic or whatever. i see that mindset constantly, especially in young women.

the surgery isnt the issue. the look itself isnt the issue. the filters themselves arent the issue. the issue is that on none of these images, is there an indication of what has been changed or how. the brain damage effect of filters would be lessened, i think, if everyone KNEW which images had been altered and how. so maybe thats the answer? mandatory labeling? i dont know. what’s terrifying is that the average adult human in america cant tell from a glance what has been altered in a photograph, no matter how clumsily, because they simply dont have a template for what a real human looks like anymore. the false images have supplanted the real images, the actual memories of alive humans that you know and have met or lived with. 

if you go into any of the shittier men’s spaces online you will find threads for posting pictures of “beautiful girls”, and it is page after page after page of teenagers in full makeup, hair extensions or wigs, circle lenses, facetuned, bodytuned, surgery, etc, and then hundreds of men yearning and fanning themselves over her “natural beauty”. dont go looking for this stuff, it will permanently fuck you up to know what a basic guy on the bus is thinking about women every day. dont do it

but i also seriously predict a backlash into “natural” looks after this current madness, similarly to how the 1960s saw the rise of the hippie girl with swingin titties, pit hair and no high heels after the consumer beauty madness of the 50s. of course the 60s beauty ideals were in some ways just as fake, but there was some authentic yearning towards a freedom from capitalist bodies as well. so when that happens send me $20: paypal.me/3liza. should be in like the next 4 years or so. thanks

[meetmymouth]

out in the heartland : harry styles

summary: it’s harry’s birthday and you have a very special gift for him word count: 6k warnings: daddy kink, pegging, anal fingering & rimming

“Love, can you get us more crisps,” Harry calls from where he’s seated on the floor, a Playstation console in hand.

It’s another lockdown Monday where they turn Mitch and Sarah’s spacious living room into a gaming room slash studio– according to Mitch, bowls of crisps, cheese platters, wine glasses and other snacks decorating every surface as they play anything and everything from FIFA to Fortnite until their brains are too foggy and they can’t move their fingers properly due to alcohol in their systems.

Sarah and Mitch were kind enough to let them both quarantine at theirs for a while, and it’d been so much fun, spending time with Mitch and Sarah, cooking together, watching films and going on walks, and overall having a great time with their friends. As much as it was just another Monday in lockdown, it was a special one with today being Harry’s 27th. They’ve already cut his cake, one she’d made herself -and Sarah helping with the piping– decorated with maraschino cherries and sprinkles, and they’ve been spending the night drinking posh wine and screaming at each other while Harry and Mitch played FIFA.

With two bowls filled with more crisps, she makes her way back to the living room with a smile on her face as Mitch and Harry keep going on and on about the game, and Sarah teasing them both, asking whether they’d get a divorce soon since they’ve been arguing back and forth like an old, married couple.

They pause the game as Mitch says her name, “did you see the card Jeff sent Harry for his birthday?” He’s smirking as he takes another sip of his wine, and Harry throws a piece of cheese at him, earning a glare from the long-haired man.

“Not yet, what is it?”

“Jeff being a dickhead as per. He sent me a card, it’s between my book, there,” he gestures at his book on the sofa with his head.

She grabs the thick book, turns the pages until she finds the card with ease, and she feels her heart drop for some reason, eyebrows furrowing and palms starting to sweat as she turns to Harry. He’s watching her with a grin on his face, the others already laughing at what’s in front of the card as she takes it in her hands to inspect the shiny birthday card.

“’Happy pegging birthday’” she reads out loud with a monotonous voice. “Uh… okay. That’s– very funny.”

“He’s just being stupid,” Harry laughs, running a finger thorugh his hair. He sits up, mouth full of crisps, and extends his hand for her to hold. “Come here, let me feed you cheese.”

“Okay… uh, nice card.”

“I mean, I love you, Sarah, but–” Mitch starts, mouth full, and Sarah cuts him off with a glare.

“Do not finish that sentence,” she points the wine glass at him as the sounds of cackling follow behind.

They all laugh… except her.

It’s funny. It is. And she loves them, loves laughing with them. But now, with the card Harry labelled as ‘stupid’ in hand and a fancy, pink box with Harry’s name on it waiting for them, waiting for him upstairs, on the bed they’d been sharing since the beginning of lockdown, she can’t help but feel stupid, too.

Was that a bold move? Was she being too brave, or… stupid? Whatever it was, she couldn’t help but let a pang of shame and sadness engulf her for a moment, before Harry’s silky voice pulls her away from her thoughts. She accepts the hand extended and sits next to him on the floor, card now forgotten on the sofa, and she tries to occupy both her mind and hands with Sarah’s fluffy cat, giving his little head tiny pets as Harry rubs her back as if it would get rid of the tension she was feeling.  

“You okay,” he brings his mouth close to her gear and whispers, then presses the gentlest, softest kiss on her ear. “D’you need anything?”

“I’m fine.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, H.”

It’s not until 2AM that everyone decides to go up to their rooms, not even batting an eye at the mess they made as they make their way upstairs with promises to clean everything in the morning. Now that she knows the box is there, on the bed where Harry can easily detect as soon as they open the door, her stomach begins growling but not because she’s hungry, but because she’s feeling anxious, and ashamed.

She has to do something.

“Hey, um…” she begins, stopping them both in front of the guest room they’d been occupying. “Could you– could you bring me water, I forgot to take my meds today.”

“Baby…” Harry says, hand going up to her cheeks to stroke there for a moment. “I thought you had an alarm… I filled your water bottle this morning and put it on the bedside table, come on.”

“No– Harry…”

“What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I am, I just want fresh water.”

“Are you– are you serious?”

“Yes,” it comes out as a question rather than an answer and she bites her bottom lip, feeling uneasy under Harry’s curious gaze.

“You’re being kinda weird.”

“I’m not being weird!”

“Is there something you’re hiding from me?” He says with eyebrows furrowed and hand on his hip. “In the bedroom, in particular?”

“Don’t be silly.”

And as soon as he turns away, she knows she’s done for. It’s too late. She’s fucked. Everything’s fucked, she thinks, and he will hate her. Will never want to see her face again and probably ask her to leave as soon as possible since he won’t be able to look at her ever again without being reminded of her disgusting “gift”.

He goes in, of course he does, and she can’t help but close her eyes for a few moments before she joins him, hands sweaty and heart beating like there’s no tomorrow. She finds him near the bed, eyes focused on the box sitting in the middle of the bed, and she looks up when he does, finding him giving her a bright, heart-clenching smile as the dimple gets wider.

“Well, what’s this then, bab?”

His socked-feet makes a comforting noise on the carpeted floor, and he stops when he reaches where she’s standing, hands immediately finding her hips to bring them closer.

“Harry, please don’t open it,” it’s pathetic, she thinks, how desperate and anxious she sounds. Though, she can’t help but close her eyes when Harry’s hand finds the back of her neck as he strokes there with his thumb. “Don’t open it. It’s just silly. It’s a joke.”

“Baby, breathe. What are you even talking about, hm? Why are you– oh my god, darling, you look like you’re having a panic attack. You’re sweating, are you…” he squeezes her flesh gently, then guides her to the bed. “Hey, look at me– look. I’m not going to open it unless you want me to. Do you really not know me? I would never do anything you don’t want me to. Who do you take me for, hm?” It’s so gentle, his voice, it’s like honey is dripping down his mouth and she can’t help but watch the way his pink lips move. “Baby. Look at me. I love you. You’re so special to me, you’re my whole world. I won’t open it– I won’t, I promise. C’mere, babs.”

“I love you too,” she sniffs once, twice, then rubs her eyes.

“Wanna go to sleep... hm? Come on, bab, let’s go to sleep.”

Nights chase each other away, Tuesday kisses Wednesday and Thursday is spent with laughter and too much smoke and Friday finally arrives and it’s like a breath of fresh air, but she also thinks it’s due to the open windows and fresh flowers in the spacious kitchen. The box, containing the cursed gift of hers is forgotten, placed under their bed besides their suitcases, and everything feels normal. Almost too normal. So, she does what most people would do: look for ‘trouble’.

When Harry’s in the shower, she gets the box out and sits on the bed as she thinks about what to do with it. But, apparently, the stillness of the room was too good to be true as Harry emerges from the ensuite, hair still dripping-wet as he adjusts the robe, eyes immediately finding what she’s got in front of her, and the box that is now open, and a black leather piece hanging from the not-so-tall box.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he’s testing the waters, she knows. His eyebrows are furrowed, only slightly, and mouth slightly parted. “What are you doing, darling?”

It’s not a threat, nor asked with the intention of intimidating her. Alas, she feels threatened.

“I…”

“What is it?”

She sighs, feeling the cold sweat dripping down her back, and finally gives up. “See for yourself,” the box is thrust into his hands, and she leaves the room, leaving behind a confused, semi-naked man and a very expensive looking strap-on.

It’s not another fifteen minutes until Harry comes downstairs dressed in only a pair of joggers, and finds her on the sofa as she chews on her thumb –a bad habit really– while reading one of Harry’s books. He walks up to her with a tiny smile on his face, and curls into her side, resting his head in the crook of her neck as he breathes in the sweet smell and the now all too familiar fabric softener.

He waits for her to speak first, not wanting to upset her further, but all she does is sit there, and pretend to read until Harry lets out a sigh, and presses a brief, gentle kiss to her jaw.

“Can we talk?” He says, hands now resting on her thigh as his thumb strokes the skin there.

She sighs too, and fidgets under his gaze. “Not really.”

“Why not, though? We’ve been together for years. Why are you so scared of me, hm? Have I ever done something to make you feel like you can’t be honest with me?”

“No, it’s just embarrassing to me, Harry. And… seeing that card. And you calling it… stupid. I just feel like an idiot, please stop.”

Harry sighs, his breath hitting the side of her face. “Look at me. Look–” he reaches and touches her jaw. “I love you. I’m madly in love with you. The kind that keeps me up at night. The kind that makes my heart hurt in the best possible way. I’m so gone, baby, so fucking gone for you. You got me. I can’t leave, now, I’d never want to,” he presses his forehead to the side of her jaw, the damp skin feeling cold against her flesh. “Jeff on the other hand… can we not talk about him when I have these– these images in my head. Of you. Wearing that.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to feel bad but too bad, I feel like shite and am so fucking embarassed, you don’t get it.”

“I do, I fucking do and I’m trying to tell you how much I’d love it if you fucked me in the ass. Now, you either come upstairs and finish what you started, or–”

They’re both startled when Mitch enters the living room and drops the book in his hand.

He looks up at them, clearly not phased, and they both notice the AirPods in his ears as he kneels down and grabs his book, giving them one last look before disappearing outside to join Sarah in the garden. Harry though, he lets out a chuckle and turns to her, dimple tugging at his cheek, and extends his arm to caress her cheek.

“Come upstairs, baby.”

He says it easily, words rolling off his tongue, just like that, and she does. Of course she does because what else was she to do? She lets him take her hand in his, interlocking their fingers as he guides them up the stairs. Once inside the room, the door is closed, locked, and Harry takes the time to walk towards the window to close the curtain, and she can’t help but stare at his long, beautiful fingers over the soft cotton. Other than the thick, silver band on his middle finger, his fingers are ring-free, and despite adoring his soft, pretty fingers with his equally pretty rings, there’s just something so soft, cosy and familiar about Harry without rings.

He catches her staring because, of course he does. He sees her. Every movement of her eyes, trembling lips, shaky fingers, scrunch of her nose; he sees it all. And now, he walks towards her, a big grin tugging at his lips as he stops right in front of her, both of them aware of the box sitting on the bed but neither of them say anything as they hold each other’s gaze.

And just like that, she feels like she can finally breathe properly when she’s being pulled into his chest, hands finding their place on each side of her head as he starts peppering kisses to her face, first her forehead, then nose, and at last, his plump lips find their way to the place they know by heart, her lips.

It’s not rushed, not at all, Harry thinks they have all the time in the world so he takes his time with her. He knows it’s impossible, foolish even, but he swears he can see the marks his tiny but lustful kisses are leaving behind when he briefly opens his eyes. They’re everywhere on her beautiful face, from her lips to the corner of her mouth, chin, the side of her jaw.

“How do you want me,” he mumbles and it’s an uttered promise, somehow submissive though not completely, but also one that is full of love, trust.

She freezes for a moment, hands still on his neck, holding each other’s gaze and she watches as Harry walks to the bed, and he grabs the box. The shape of the object in his hands feels unfamiliar to the eye, the dazzling, hot pink dildo at the front makes them both swallow in anticipation and she knows Harry is clueless about what his next move should be.

It certainly wasn’t their first time trying out things in the bedroom. They were both ‘kinky’, as some would call it, they liked rough sex, the kind that left bruises and marks behind, but never anything like this. Sure, she did give him a rim job a few times, his darker, puckered hole made her mouth water and she wanted nothing more than to get on her knees and kiss and lick the flesh until Harry was a mess, coming in long spurts. He loved having his ass licked, he loved sitting on her face, with his big cock stuffing her warm, tiny mouth as he forced her to take everything in, moving his ass back and forth across her mouth as she tried to lick every inch of the bitter flesh, wanting to please him, make him fall apart above her.

But, despite Harry letting her lick his ass could be considered as a vulnerability or submission to some, she was always his submissive. She loved it; they both loved it. She also knew today wasn’t the day she would give up on that submission. No, today was all about Harry, and what he wanted, how he wanted it, and it was about her giving it to him. So she gives him a tiny smile, hands reaching to grab the strap-on from his hands, and he watches with great intent, pupils dilated and mouth parted.

She swallows, and looks up at him with apprehension. “I want you to use me,” she lets out, a shaky breath following behind. “I want you to… I want you to do whatever you want with me. I know this,” her gaze falls to the pink dildo surrounded by black leather of the harness. “It’s something we haven’t done before, at least… fully–”

Harry giggles, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. “Fully.”

“Shh. I’m just saying that… we haven’t done this before but I still want you to be in charge, at least… at least–”

“You want me to be the Daddy, hm? You still want Daddy to tell you what to do, how to fuck him? Y’gonna be my little fuck toy? Is that what you want, darling?”

“Yes,” her breath hitches at her throat. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. You’re so good to Daddy, darling. Always spoiling me, always looking after me, taking care of Daddy… how’d I get so lucky?”

“Daddy deserves it,” she looks up, waiting for his command to get naked and she can see it in his eyes, the hesitant gaze as if he wants to make sure she’s okay still even though he’s the one who’s about to get fucked.

“Go on then,” he mutters, hands going to his own joggers as he lets them pool around his ankles. He reaches up, brushing the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “Get naked for Daddy and put it on.”

And she does, oh, she does.

It doesn’t take long, considering she only has a ratty t-shirt on and a pair of joggers, and nothing underneath. It doesn’t come as a surprise to him, her forgoing underwear, but they both can’t help but hold each other’s gaze a minute longer. She notices the fiery look in his eyes, pupils now looking like a pair of black buttons as his bottom lip gets trapped between his teeth.

She lets her eyes wander, gaze travelling from each puffy nipple that are now beginning to harden, to the hair on his chest, then the hair that’s following his happy trail, all the way down to his cock. She feels her heart clench in lust at the sight of his hard cock, slightly curved with a vein following underneath, and she just wants to get down on her knees and put it in her mouth. She remembers him asking her whether to shave or not a couple of weeks ago, and the thick pubic hair surrounding his perfect cock makes her mouth water, feeling content that she’d told him not to touch any razors.

She looks up at him again, to see the expression on his face and he smiles, hand reaching for her.

“Come.”

She walks towards him, the strap-on in hand, and a tiny whimper leaves her mouth when her hand finds her boob, long fingers trapping her pebbled nipple between them as he twists the darker nub, once, twice, and he lets it go only to slap it, causing her to gasp as she quickly tries to suppress the noise with her palm pressing against her mouth. It stings, but doesn’t hurt. Not at all. In fact, it frustrates her despite the tingling, stinging feeling between her legs. She needs more. She wants more.

“Get this on and get on your knees,” he mutters, hand now on her neck as he squeezes briefly, watching as she gets the strap-on on and tightens the straps. “You’re gonna get Daddy’s cock nice and wet before you can fuck his ass. Understand?”

She pairs her quiet ‘yes’ with a nod, mind too hazy to actually look into Harry’s eyes as her shaky fingers fiddle with the harness. The clasps make a clicking sound, very satisfying to their ears, and she swallows, getting on her knees in front of him. Clean, soapy smell of his skin chafes the tip of her nose very gently and Harry begins playing with her hair, hands stroking the side of her face before one finds the back of her neck, bringing her towards his hard cock.

“Take it in your mouth,” his thumb presses hard on her bottom lip, as if to remind her who’s in control despite the foreign object she’s been supporting.

Her gaze wanders, taking in his thick, leaking cock, and with one hand steady on his meaty thigh, she brings the other to his balls, humming when she feels them tight already. The wrinkly skin of it is soft and not at all unfamiliar to her. So, she leans in to press a flat tongue against his balls, not missing the way Harry’s thighs jerk in response, and she then takes them into her mouth. She hums at the feeling in her mouth as she alternates between sucking and licking them and Harry lets out a quivering sigh above her, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of her mouth around him.

He lets out a his when her teeth grazes over the area lightly. “Fuck, babe. You like my balls?”

Of course, there’s no time to respond, nor the possibility of her forming coherent words since he’s literally balls deep in her mouth, so she proceeds to hum around him, a few hairs there tickling her nose and lips as she sucks. With a pop, she lets them go and darts out her tongue again, travelling the warm, wet muscle from underneath his cock, to the tip. It’s a deep, pink colour, shiny and smooth, so she can’t help but wrap her mouth around the tip, earning a quick jolt of his hips from Harry as the action takes him by surprise.

She looks up, and sucks the tip as if it’s an ice lolly, and the salty taste of his pre-cum fills the insides of her mouth, fingernails pressing harder into his meaty thighs, and she wishes she could see the mark her nails left behind on his tiger tattoo.

Series of ‘fuck’s and ‘shit’s leave his mouth as he guides her head down his cock, and as always, she obeys while taking him deeper and deeper, her warm saliva coating his thickness and she moans around his warm cock as she brings her hands to his ass. While still sucking, she squeezes there, fingernails digging into the perfect skin of his ass and he lets out a hiss first, then pulls her hair harshly before pressing her face down his cock, a shaky moan following as she takes him deeper, her throat welcoming the warmth and thickness of his cock like it always does.

“You’re such a cock slut for me, aren’t you? Can’t keep that mouth away from Daddy,” he pulls her away from his cock, hands immediately going to her mouth to smear the pre-cum and spit all over her mouth and chin. "You wanted to treat Daddy for his birthday, hm?”

“Yes.”

“You’re such a good girl, darling. Always spoiling me, making me feel so, so fucking good,” he squeezes one of her boobs, twisting the nipple between his fingers before his gaze falls to the strap-on and the dildo secured tightly to the harness. He gets on his knees. “Make me suck that cock.”

The words, they just sound so hot, so filthy coming out of his mouth, making her weak in the knees as she swallows, and she places her hand on his shoulder, squeezing there once before it travels to the back of his head. She feels in control, having him on his knees, at her command even though he’s still somehow in charge, and it drives her crazy, having this gorgeous man all to herself. 

She watches him as Harry’s curious gaze takes the pink dildo in. She knew it wasn’t his first time sucking a cock, despite the one now in his face being silicone. So when he goes in easily with her hands pulling him closer, she can’t help but whine at the expression on his face, eyes glittering and plump lips parted as he takes the cock into his mouth.

He coats the pink silicone with his saliva, eyes shut as if he’s trying to concentrate on an important task, pink lips looking like they belong there, around a cock. They look so sinful, yet so perfect as he bobs his head up and down, talking the cock further into his mouth and she tries to guide him but she knows he doesn’t need it. He knows what he’s doing.

“You look so hot,” she manages to let out, words coming out as a hum, low and quiet, and he opens his eyes, eyelashes fluttering at the whispered compliment. “You look so good, Harry.”

He takes it out of his mouth briefly, a string of saliva making a bridge between his bottom lip and the dildo, and she reaches there, smearing it all over his bottom lip just like he did to her earlier as she loved seeing him dirty.

His pink tongue darts out and he wraps his lips around the finger on his bottom lip. “Gonna get me wet now?” He hums around her finger and she feels her pussy clench around nothing.

“Get on the bed.”

As Harry gets on all fours, ass in the air, her eyes wander to their lube on the nightstand. Ignoring the heat in her stomach, she sits on her knees behind Harry and touches his ass, fingers caressing the soft skin, touching the tiny mole there before she leans forward and presses a kiss there. It’s a peck, a sweet kiss that turns into more as her mouth opens, tongue flat against the warm skin as she sucks the flesh, causing him to let out a happy grunt.

He whispers her name, the excitement making her nipples tighten once again, but she moves her lips towards the crack, not wanting to stop.

“That’s it,” Harry groans, “Get Daddy wet before you put that cock in him.”

It’s a godly sight. Him on all fours, at her mercy, it was exquisite, intense, dirty. But she wanted to get him dirtier. With her hand parting one cheek, she bites her lip, noticing his rim, puckered and surrounded by little hairs, and all of a sudden, she can’t wait to get her mouth on him, to see the hairs get darker with her spit as he squirms under her touch.

She gets closer, a grin appearing on her face when he lets out quiet whines and whimpers, and she exhales a sigh into Harry’s milky flesh. Her tongue, hungry and hot, darts out to lick his rim briefly, just to get him wet before she uses her fingers. His cock, now a deeper shade of pink, hard and thick, is peeking between his legs, moving left and right from time to time whenever Harry or she moves, and she can’t help but reach there.

Harry sucks in a breath as her warm hand meets his hard cock, and she lets out a moan when she feels the thickness of it in her palm. It’s hot, so fucking hot, and the smooth skin of his cock is still damp, so she brings her thumb to his tip and smears the leaking pre-cum all over it, then drags her finger down to his balls and squeezes once.

His perfect mouth lets out a pained whimper when she lets go and focuses on the beautiful rim in front of her. She leans forward, both hands now parting his cheeks, and spits on his rim before flattening her tongue and lapping across Harry’s puckered hole. It’s not sweet, far from it actually, but the salty, bitter taste makes her even wetter as she keeps licking and sucking around his hole, satisfied when she hears him whimper and moan. Once it’s wet and the hairs around his rim get darker, she pulls away and licks a finger into her mouth, then grabs the lube from the bedside table and places it somewhere by Harry’s feet.

It’s fire, when she presses her middle finger into his hole, and Harry lets out a groan, her finger sliding in with ease with the help of her spit. “So tight,” she mumbles when Harry pushes his ass backwards only a little bit to match the tiny movements of her finger.

“Move faster,” Harry says, voice low. “Add another one.”

The lube is now in her hand as she brings it to where her finger is, takes it out, and allows a generous amount to coat the puckered area where her finger has been. Harry groans at the feeling, hole clenching around nothing, and she rubs the area with the same finger she’s been using, and presses it in before taking it out. This time, her middle finger is joined by her index as she fucks into his ass slowly, taking her sweet time while admiring the way he’s been taking her fingers. The skin makes wet noises, and she knows if they weren’t so worked up, they would have a giggle about it, just like they often do whenever one of them makes a questionable noise while having sex.

This time, though, the sounds of her fingers pumping in and out of his ass makes her go crazy, and she knows Harry feels the same when he lets out a loud grunt, pushing his ass back in sharp movements, in hopes of getting her to fuck him harder and deeper.

It goes on like that for a while, and they stop when he’s opened up enough, Harry’s rim now looking sore and pink. Once the dildo at her front is lubed up generously, she taps his ass once, making him turn his head back to look at her, eyebrows furrowed in question and mouth still parted due to the tingling feeling at the tip of his cock.

“Go ahead, baby,” he murmurs, gaze lowering. “Fuck Daddy’s ass. I’m ready,” his voice, hoarse and low, rings in her ears as she lifts the dildo up to his ass, his now-pink hole.

One hand holding the pink dildo from the base and the other resting on Harry’s back, she starts pushing it in, whines and hisses leaving his throat as soon as he feels the silicone tip. She watches as the tip digs into his ass, slowly and with effort despite all the lube, and she can’t help but bring her other hand to her boobs, squeezing once before she places it back on Harry’s ass. He’s a mess, sweat dripping down his back, and she knows he’s trying to keep quiet as neither of them would want to get caught by the other couple despite having the door locked.

“Fuck,” he grunts, head lowering.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” he whimpers, ass trying to clench around the dildo but it fails due to how big it is. “Keep going, I want you to fuck me. Hard.”

She holds him by his love handles, fingernails digging into his milky, smooth skin as she moves her hips, the dildo now halfway in. With Harry moaning, she takes her time to admire how fucking hot he looks underneath her, with his ass filled with the pink dildo, and she sighs, continuing to fuck into his ass with the shiny dildo. It’s incredible how well he’s taking it, taking her, his puckered hole now a sore-pink, wet, and she feels like crying, not knowing how to handle what’s going on. She loves him. She loves him so fucking much, and she knows he does, too. She feels overwhelmed with love and hunger as she speeds up her hips, the dildo now fully inside him as she fucks his ass.

He gasps and jolts when the dildo presses right up to his prostate. “Fuckin’ hell. Please keep going, fuck Daddy hard. Fuck me, baby– god, I’m gonna cum soon. Keep going, keep fucking me,” he rasps.

“You’re taking it so well. You look so fucking good.”

“Oh fuck– it feels so good. Fuck me harder, come on, fuck me.”

Feeling brave, she presses her fingernails into his ass cheek, then lifts her hand, a loud smack landing on his left cheek and Harry hisses, fingers curling into the sheets as he lets out whimper after whimper. She watches as the dildo disappears into Harry’s ass, the pink mark on his ass becoming redder and angrier by the second and she decides to press her front against his back, laying down on him as she fucks into him deeper, nipples getting ridiculously hard as soon as they make contact with Harry’s sweaty back.

She finds it easier to fuck him in this position, and she likes that they’re much closer now, mouths searching for each other as he reaches behind and grabs her ass, squeezing hard as she keeps thrusting hard and deep. With kisses placed against his sweaty neck, Harry tries to turn his head to where hers is, and they meet in a rushed, teeth-clashing kiss, Harry’s tongue darting out to lick into her mouth, but missing in the end, and licking the corner of her mouth instead as she lets out a whine, hand searching for his cock that’s now trapped between his body and the sheets.

He helps her, lifts up his lower body and she starts moving her hand up and down on his hard cock, head resting on the crook of his neck as her hips move lazily. He’s so hard, and she knows he’s close by the sounds he’s making, his hips jerking forward from time to time as little ‘uh’s leave his mouth, and she wants to help him. She wants him to cum so bad. She wants to be the one making him cum so fucking hard.

“Are you gonna cum,” she whispers into his neck. “Please, baby. Cum for me. Show me how much you liked getting fucked.”

“God,” with cock still in her palm, he tries thrusting his hips forward to meet the strokes of her hand. “Please– I’m g’na cum so fuckin’ hard. You’re so fucking hot, so fucking good to me. Oh my god, baby, it hurts.”

“Yeah? It hurts?” She squeezes the base of his cock, then touches his balls briefly before continuing her strokes. “You’re taking it so well. Come on, Daddy. I need you to cum.”

“God, I’m– oh fuck. I’m gonna… Make me cum. Come on, make Daddy cum.” 

She squeezes his cock once again, sending sharp jolts of pleasure straight to his cock. When he lets out a choked breath, she knows he’s coming. It’s hot, sticky, and so fucking dirty, the cum coating her palm, creating more lubrication as she keeps stroking him lazily, dildo still filling up his ass, and with a groan, Harry reaches behind to smack her ass.

They stay like that for a while, with her still inside him as he tries to catch his breath, and she proceeds to match their breaths to the clock on the wall, feeling completely spent but still frustrated since the pool of wetness between her folds seems to be intensifying every passing moment.

After a while, Harry clears his throat. “Are you a dream?” It’s soft, only a whisper, and sickeningly sweet.

“Hm?”

“You’re a dream. You’re unbelievable– I love love love you,” he sighs, voice breaking. It takes him a few seconds to complete his sentence.

“No, thank you. I hope… I hope you liked it?”

“Fucking loved it. What about you?”

“I did. You did so good,” she touches his sweaty hair. “But,” she starts, legs starting to feel sore. “I’m still so fucking wet.”

“Oh, fuck. I’m sorry, sweet girl–” Harry reaches behind and strokes her hip. “Can I fuck you now?”

“Yes, please.”

The strap-on now on the floor, Harry takes his time to admire her soft features, the sweat on her forehead and messy strands of hair sticking to her face. She rubs her eyes, and lets out a yawn, but her other hand reaches blindly for Harry, and he smiles, the gesture leaving his chest, his heart heavy and hot and full of love. He lets her hold on to him as she keeps rubbing her eyes, then he links their fingers as she opens her eyes to find him staring.

She gives him a lazy smile. “What?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“All right, Shakespeare… mhm, come here,” she pulls him closer by his love handles. “I love you. Happy birthday. Again.”

“I love you so much. How is it possible to want you this much, hm?” He mumbles against her sweaty neck, not caring about the bitter taste of her skin. He watches as her smile widens, eyes tired and sleepy. “There’s a halo in your mouth.”

pls reblog if you enjoyed it! it only takes a second but it helps me tons <3 inbox is always open for your feedback!!!!! <3 lu

[fairycosmos]

Ugh chloeeee im so fuken annoyed!!! of that tiktok rhetoric “simp” like this guy made a tiktok of that sculpture we all love here on tumblr of a man kissing the woman’s stomach / inner thigh / between her breast and labelling that sculpture along the lines of “this guy is the most simp” like?? SHUT THE FUCK UUUUUUP STUPID MAN!!! like is your brain so psychologically and emotionally rotted than when a man displays affection to a woman (AND IN THKS SITUATION A STATUE) your stupid little lizard brain automatically thinks “simp?” that is exactly what a pseudo deep self-proclaimed “alpha” man thinks. hope that tiktoker doesn’t get any women when his behavior is that rancid and repulsive. fucking “simp” hUuhhHH. been seeing a lot of ytbers even say this “im not a simp” when they’re vlogger gf filmed them getting her coffee…HUH. huh…. Shut the fuck up. love people. Earnestly and sincerely.

at this point you gotta start seeing tiktok as nothing more than a micro-chasm of absurdity like the people on that clock app and in those comment sections are in a completely different reality. clicking post with their mushed up brains. no critical thought, not an iota of nuanced understanding, no ideas just reactions. and all you can do is disengage from their ridiculousness entirely lest u drown in it while trying to mop it up lol!! no but i agree honestly the simp thing is so far beyond a joke. it's very very sad that it's apparently normal for young dudes to think that treating women like people is simping for them or whatever the fuck. i really see it as adjacent to the dehumanisation of women that cishet men partake in to get validation from other cishet men. they view anything that isn't mocking us to boost their own camaraderie as simping, as weakness. and they also tell on themselves by assuming that the only reason another man is being nice to a woman is bc he wants to fuck her. like great job projecting im sure ur next step is a terrible rage bait podcast that no one enjoys ever!!!!!!! anyway yeah repulsive is the word and shut the fuck is the phrase <3 i find peace knowing they'll never understand sincere and earnest love, and they don't deserve to either. there's just so much that ppl like that will never have the capacity to see or experience. sad!

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

L.o.v.e.l.e.s.s. generation

Request: Amazing!! Can i ask for a billy hargrove imagine where he and the reader are together and at a party. They separate for like an hour so he goes with his friends for a while and shes with hers and she gets roofied. Steve and nancy try to help her and then call billy and hes a mess trying to get her to throw up and hes just blabbering and crying and mad af. So much angst and then fluff and yeah. 

@peakascum​ i’m so sorry for taking so looooong. 

words: 7.4 k

Summary: Billy has a bad feeling about a party at Tina’s and you don’t trust your gut feeling because of a kiss, Nancy can kick some ass and both, you and Billy, are the kind of people who cry in the shower. 

Warnings: *trigger warning* We have dark shit here, like pls people if any of your friends get too drunk or you think someone has put something in their drink GO TO THE HOSPITAL. Don’t follow the characters behaviour down below.

billy hargrove masterlist

"There’s a party at Tina’s tonight”, you muttered after disconnecting your lips from Billy’s, who had been more than happy on your make-out session in the parking lot of Hawkins High. 

You fluttered your eyes to watch your hot, hot, boyfriend who was perfectly placed between your legs while he kissed you softly. You weren’t sure how Billy kept his glowing tan all year long, especially in Hawkins but you loved how it combined with his blue electric eyes that pierced you every time he watched you. You removed some of the blonde locks falling on his forehead and placed another kiss on his full lips. 

Sometimes you didn’t know how you managed to snatch him. 

He sighed, “I heard, are you sure you want to go?”, he groaned as he tried to chase your lips once more but you stopped him as you jumped from the hood of the blue Camaro. 

“When does Billy Hargrove rejects a party?”, you asked while raising your brows. You picked up your bag from the floor and began fixing your skirt and sweater, you had to be ready for the debate team meeting while he rolled his eyes. 

You smiled but you turned around as you heard a couple of girls from Billy’s friend group nattering about you from afar as they saw Billy pulling you in once more for another kiss. 

See, how could you even start to recount your relationship with Billy Hargrove? it was hard. Not because it was a difficult relationship, but because you two seemed so different from the outside that sometimes people didn’t even believe that you had lasted so long in the first place. Billy and you had been going strong for over eight months now and it felt like you were on cloud nine. 

He was mesmerized by you since his first day of school, he wasted no time in asking you for a date -to the disapproval of his new gang and the dismay of most of the girls at the school- you were elated by it but you said that he needed to do a lot more if he wanted you to say yes. It wasn’t that you weren’t oblivious to Billy’s charm but you knew his type and he was definitely not on yours. 

Billy didn’t seem more than an aggressive jog and you bore those type of guys, they weren’t stimulating and you had learned to value yourself and your time, more than anything else. So, it took Billy time -with a lot of rejected attempts and multiple pairings on classes- to actually get a yes from you. 

And so, you had come to learn that Billy Hargrove was more than he showed and it hit you to the core because you did the same. They were just different acts, both of you were familiar with the fact that people liked to put tags on others, to label them and keep them in a box, they liked making you one dimensional for them to feel comforted in a stupid status quo. And both of you followed swiftly because sometimes is easier to play a role than to be yourself, it’s easier to make people believe you are one thing. Sometimes it was easier to be just a good girl and sometimes it was easier to be just a bully, but you weren’t that and neither was Billy. 

Billy Hargrove wore his heart on his sleeve and no one had noticed that, you instead kept it locked in a safe to survive and no one had noticed that. 

But Billy noticed your lock and you noticed his sleeve, he understood you and you understood him. 

After hours or even whole nights talking to each other, laughing, even crying you finally agreed to go out with him. 

“I always want to do whatever you want to do”, he whispered to your lips as he pressed quick pecks. You sighed into his lips; eyes closed in bliss as his lips touched yours. “Pick you at nine?”

You smiled as you heard him and your lips now were chasing his. 

…

“See you in an hour or so?”, you asked as you opened the door for Tina’s house, Billy was behind you. Both of you were analyzing the scene in front of you. 

There were a lot of people, far more than what you were expecting but it was the last Friday before Thanksgiving break so you kinda got it. Many of the kids that went away for college were coming back to see their families and since Tina’s parties were always a staple of Hawkins High, you knew most of them wouldn’t miss it. So, there it was: an ocean of sweaty and drunk teenagers and young adults having fun and blasting music.  

You turned around to see a frown on Billy’s face as he saw the scene while you rolled your eyes. You didn’t really know why he was so opposed to partying when he was always down for any type of rave. 

See, although both of you were so similar in many senses, it wasn’t at all the case when you were partying. Billy was the type of guy who liked the attention, he craved it and he found it most of the time in senseless partying. While you, you were the type of girl who liked to be lowkey about your presence at a party, if you had the attention it was from your amazing dancing skills. Otherwise, you liked to spend your parties taking a few shots, dancing, and talking to your friends; nothing more and nothing less. Billy, instead, liked to do his keg stands and playing games, getting a bit more than tipsy. 

Most of the time you were together months of your relationship you both had made sacrifices, sometimes Billy wouldn’t do his normal circus act so he could be in a more calm conversation with you, and sometimes you had decided to cheer him when he was doing his keg stands or accomplishing the dares his stupid friends wanted him to do.

And it was fine, except for the fact that you had exploded one Monday a few months ago when you heard the rumors about the past party, especially the rumor about the “Queen of Hawkins” and how everyone was beginning to think that you were nothing more than a pretty thing that Billy wore around his arm, an accessory. You hated it, you hated it so much that you had ended up ranting about it to Billy who had been patient and listened to every single word without saying much. 

“I’m fucking captain of the debate team, since when I’m an accessory?”, “I’m running for president of the student council, does it look like I care about being Queen of Hawkins?”, “I’m not clingy or sticking to you all the time, it was just one party!”

And so, you had come up with the party plan. It was really simple: As soon as you got to the party, each one would go and do their thing. Billy would go out and play games while you hang out with Steve and Nancy and Johnathan. If there were any good songs or if you were craving each other presences, you would find each other and would dance for a couple of songs or maybe have a little (long) time out inside any room available where you could moan each other’s name. It had worked on the parties that you had gone to for the last few months and it had been fine, most of the time after you found each other you wouldn’t let go.

Today had to be no different, another party at Tina’s, usual business. 

But you knew it wasn’t, Billy turned around to see you with narrowed blue electric eyes, brows bumped together in a scowl and lips pressed together. 

“Billy?”

“I’m not really feeling like partying”, he muttered as he sighed and took a hold of your waist and pulled your flesh against his. 

Sometimes you were more than sure that Billy’s arms were made perfectly for you, you loved being held by him, and feeling like nothing in the world could hurt you. Being held by his biceps and pressed against him always made your heart skip a bit, you didn’t even think twice as you quickly took a hold of his face and you pressed your lips urgently against his, making you whimper into his lips. It was intoxicating the dance between your lips and tongues, you sometimes even got dizzy after kissing Billy but you were more than happy to get drunk on him rather than on vodka. 

But today you wanted to hang out with Nancy, Johnathan, and Steve, you hadn’t been seeing them much since school started again since, well, Billy was a handful. 

“I’ll see you later sir”, you whispered as you gave him the last peck and walked away from him with a smile on your lips. 

Billy stayed stunned after a few seconds and cursed to himself but he knew that you were in the mood for partying and the least he could do was give you space to be by yourself, to have times with your friends. He didn’t want to admit it but he had taken a lot of your time the past few weeks, he had wanted to take advantage of his father leaving Hawkins for a work trip, so he had spent most of his time buried inside of you or sleeping next to you or laughing with you, etc. And he wanted tonight to be no different, but he also respected you and your wishes. So, although he wasn’t too excited, he managed himself. He quickly threatened his way to get a whole bottle of tequila and went outside where Tommy and Carol were waiting for him already. 

“You look stunning!”, Nancy gasped as she saw you, you twirl so they could give a look at your outfit: A tight black leather skirt, military boots, and a cutout band t-shirt from Billy. 

Steve and Jonathan cheered for you as you moved your hips and Nancy clapped, while you then twirl her around for her to model her outfit. 

“You look stunning all the time!”, you replied as you hugged Nancy. 

“That’s indeed true”, Johnathan muttered as he pulled in Nancy for a kiss on her forehead while she wrapped one arm around him, quickly pulling him into a passionate kiss.

Steve rolled his eyes as he got closer to you, “Are we going to dance?”, he whispered in your ear and it made you shiver. 

You couldn’t lie that you had a thing for Steve when you were younger than you were less than thrilled when he started dating Nancy but as time passed, your feelings had changed and Steve became just a great friend in your eyes. Although, it didn’t mean that sometimes Billy didn’t get jealous of him and how close you two were. But he had come to accept it, as he should, and Steve also started to deal with Billy by your request since he didn’t really like him after he had dethroned him as King of Hawkins. 

“Yes, we are”, you replied and quickly pulled Steve into the living room where everyone else was dancing. 

The way you felt the music cruising through your body made you get lost on it, eyes closed and jumping, swaying your hips to the beat, laughing, and smiling all along. Should I stay or Should I go from The Clash was the tenth song you had danced to with Steve and you were sweating from bopping your head to the last bit, throat a little bit sore from screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs. 

Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss on the top of your head. “I forgot how good it was to dance with you, Y/L/N”, you nodded without much breath but you turned around to see one of the boys from Billy’s group watching you with malice. The narrowed eyes and puckered lips weren’t anything new for you, especially from his “friends” or followers, but you knew how much they would like to initiate any rumor that could create any drama in Hawkins since they didn’t have anything more exciting to do. 

“I’m going to get something to drink”, you muttered as you glared at the loser who had been watching Steve and you, but soon he turned to the patio, where you imagined Billy was. 

You rolled your eyes; you knew you had to do damage control with Billy. Although Billy seemed like he had all the confidence in the world, you knew deep down he was insecure thanks to his relationship with his father, and especially, as months had passed by, he was insecure about your relationship sometimes. It seemed to him that you could do so much better and he was perpetually on edge when he thought about you and Steve too much, although he trusted you completely. 

And on your part, it wasn’t too different, Billy had girls throwing themselves at him permanently which was always annoying, girls who whispered at him that they would make him feel so much better than you ever did and that they wished he could make them scream. Billy had assured you and showed you that he only had eyes with you, and it did become funny sometimes because if there was someone in love with his girlfriend was Billy Hargrove. But still, sometimes that burning feeling that crept its way your heart and spread it through your body, making you feel like you could spitfire didn’t go away.

Especially not at the moment. 

Billy was outside, playing a nice game of beer pong and chugging more beer than you thought he would like tonight, but there he was… with Heather freaking Miller. She was leaning into a flustered Billy as she giggled while he poured the beer on his mouth, a little bit too fast that it made the drink spill all over his naked chest -he always lost some buttons or his shirt at some point in a party-, you imagined that he was a bit tipsy at the moment but you couldn’t help to feel your stomach twisting as you saw Heather pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. 

You spun on your heels faster than you could even imagine, not even wanting to watch Billy’s reaction to her kiss and if you had been a bit drunker, you might have been bold enough to start going off at her and Billy. But you weren’t in the mood, to hell if Billy was told something about Steve, whatever. 

“You said something?”, a guy in the kitchen asked you, as you leaned on the kitchen island in front of the living room that served as the dance floor, realizing that you had been muttering out loud. There weren’t many people in the kitchen, the great majority of the people were dancing or outside, but there were two boys. 

You huffed as you turned around and saw the guy. He had short brown hair and a nice smile as he sipped from his red solo cup. He looked familiar and you remember him being a cheer on after a basketball game while you were a Sophomore at Hawkins High and he was a Senior. He was from an affluent family, you remembered that as well as you might have seen him in one of your parent's Christmas parties, but you weren’t social. 

“Do I know you?”, you asked a bit coldly, annoyed still at the image of Heather and Billy. 

“Burn!”, another boy close to the one that had just talked to you shouted as he laughed at his friend. You recognized him too, he was also known as a Senior when you were in Sophomore, he wasn’t on any team but he was on the popular crowd. 

You vaguely remember the class that had graduated that year, only remembered a few bullying incidents but mostly that they were sexist assholes. You hoped that college had changed them, at least you liked to believe people could mature, but seeing them three years later in a party of their high school didn’t give you much hope.

“I’m Brad”, the boy with short brown hair stated as you sighed and smiled, trying to be as polite as you could taking into account how mad you were. “This is Chad”, he said pointing to his friend. 

“Y/N”, you answer as you shook his hand as he had offered it. 

He held it for a bit too long and you felt goosebumps erupting on your skin, but they weren’t good goosebumps, the way he was looking at you was way too intently but you figured that he was trying to flirt and score a girl. 

“Brad! I just…”, another boy came from the living room with a bottle of tequila in his hand as the three of you turned around to watch him, you took the opportunity and removed your hand from his hold as your eyes began to look for some wine or vodka to take to Steve. “Who’s that?”, the same guy muttered as he got closer to Brad and Chad. 

“Shut up, Logan”, Brad rolled his eyes as he saw you reaching for a bottle of vodka, he quickly took it and then handed it to you with a strange smile. “You have to apologize, my friends, they are…”

“Wonderful?”, Logan said with a smirk.

“Charming?”, Chad answer as he seemed to be taking something from his Varsity Jacket, you didn’t manage to see really what he had since Brad quickly placed solo red cups for you to do shots in, blocking the view.

“Annoying”, he stated as he poured a bit of the vodka on two small cups and then passed the bottle to his friends. You smile at the way he said it, the guy had a charm but there was still a hint of something you didn’t like. Something that didn’t add up to his pretty greyish eyes or his sharp jaw. “Want one round?”

You sighed and nodded. At the moment, you only wanted a drink and don’t think a lot about Billy and Heather, you didn’t want to be too mad about it, especially since it was your idea to do a party plan and you left the road wide open for girls like Heather to flirt with Billy. 

It felt like it was your fault. 

“Sure”

The vodka burned your throat a little bit more than you would imagine but you didn’t care. It tasted okay enough and your eyes simply wondered towards the patio door, in the hopes that Billy might come looking for you but there was no sign of him coming. 

“You have a boyfriend?”, you heard Brad asking and you turned around as you passed a hand through your hair. You watched as Brad’s friends began pouring another round of shots with the vodka but your attention went right to Brad again. 

“I do, he’s with another girl at the patio”, you muttered angrily as you took a hold of the shot and chugged it right in. The vodka still burned on your throat but it now felt bubbly, still burned a bit more than before but you figured it was because you hadn’t been drinking in a while.  

“Ooh”, the two friends shouted and it made you roll your eyes, they weren’t being good company and you tried to snatch the bottle of vodka from the table where they had left it but Brad took it first. 

“Let’s do two more rounds, it will make you feel better”, he cooed as he got closer to you. 

If this was any other moment, at any other party, you would’ve said no and leave without a bottle and look for Billy. But the blonde hair from Heather on Billy’s shoulder, his laugh, and her lips on his jaw were burned on your head at the moment and you wished that maybe vodka could help you, you wished that angry drinking would be enough to make you feel better. 

“Fine”, you answer with a smirk and Brad smiled as well, his friends cheering in the background as you chugged another shot that had been served by you. 

It had to be almost four more rounds of shots of vodka -at least you believed but it didn’t taste like vodka after the second- that they had handed to you when you began to feel weird. 

It began slowly, the sleepiness taking over your body, spreading from your belly towards your chest, and soon it seemed to get on your head. It didn’t feel bad right away, simply weird. You were never a hard drinker, you had never blackout before and you weren’t planning to tonight. Getting tipsy? Yes, getting drunk? Maybe, but this felt like it was happening faster than what you had anticipated. 

You closed your eyes and leaned into the kitchen island for a second, trying to recover your breath to see if that was it, you just needed a little break. But as seconds passed, you felt your muscles getting sleepier and even when your eyes were closed, you felt like you were on a carrousel and it wasn’t stopping. 

“You don’t look so good”, you heard Brad said as he wrapped his arm around your waist, which you tried to get off but it seemed as if your muscles were going in slow motion. “You want to go to the bathroom?”

You felt like you could vomit at his questions, it sounded wrong. You shook your head as you opened your eyes and glared at him, motioning for him to let you go and he did, but as you turned around everything began to be blurry. 

“Iwanttodance”, you slurred, words tumbling against each other. You began walking towards the living room, trying to get away from the kitchen while you desperately tried to look for Nancy, Johnathan, or Steve. 

You felt your head getting dizzier and dizzier as each second passed, your brain seemed to be trying so hard for your limbs to move at the pace that you needed them too but they felt disconnected like there was a short-circuit between them.  

You weren’t sure when they had actually disconnected, it had to be a second before you reached the living room by going down simply two steps. It was something you were sure you could accomplish, not even on your worst drunk stories you had been so unaware of your body, you had never felt like that. So, it wasn’t a surprise when you saw the world turning upside down and you felt a sharp pain on the right side of your body, your head crashing on the floor as you closed your eyes from the impact. 

You fell, badly. 

You whimpered in pain as you felt people’s gaze on you, although you had your eyes closed you could feel people’s presence close to you and you wish you could even stand up but it seemed like nothing worked and you could only motion simple things You heard a couple of people laughing, guessing that maybe you were too drunk and were unable to handle your booze. You felt some girls getting closer to you and asking if you were okay but your words weren’t really words anymore, only mumbles, the pangs of pain still spreading through your torso, hips, and legs while the numbness started to spread as well. 

 It was even getting hard to keep your eyes open for too long. 

Before you knew it, someone was wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you off the ground. You prayed it was Billy or Steve, with Nancy by their side or even a couple of the girls who had been asking if you were okay. 

“Seems like she’s ready to go to sleep”

You froze as you heard Brad’s voice and a deep feeling of panic started invading your body. You protested, at least you thought but your words didn’t come out from your mouth, your eyes were still close as the pangs of pain from the fall were disappearing quite quickly, which made you worry. 

Brad quickly took a hold of your body and carried you bride-style to god knows where, you suddenly felt your stomach sinking as you realized how weak you were and the fact that you were in the hands of strangers. Sleepiness crawling over your body and anxiety too, everything began to become foggy. 

“We’ll take care good care of you” Logan stated as you felt the music farther and farther away.  

You whimpered in protest as you opened your eyes as you tried to shimmy yourself out of his hold but it just came as spams on your limps, nothing strong enough and it seemed like they were going through the foyer, towards the door. 

“Stop”

Nancy’s voice felt like it had been sent from the sky, you tried to turn your head as quickly as you could and there she was.  “Who are you?”, she asked as she got closer to you. 

You knew Nancy might be little, she might have been a little mousy when you met her but she was fierce and she could end anyone who came on her way. Such a small girl could raise hell if she decided to and you felt like crying with happiness when you -in a blur- watched her crossed her arms across her chest and glare at the guys she was standing in front of.

“She’s feeling bad”, Brad explained with a shrug but the sassy nature of his answer gave him away to Nancy, “She had a lot to drink and she told us to get her home”

“She has a boyfriend for that”, Nancy replied right away angrily. “And friends that know her”

“We are her friends”, he barked back and it made you jump on your inside. 

These guys were aggressive, the way that he answered to Nancy… you felt like tears were pooling in your eyes. This was not okay and panic raised again, flooding your body. You needed Nancy to take you away from their paws, now. You didn’t want to think where this was going if she didn’t manage to stop them. 

“Nancy” you managed to mumble and with all the effort you had, you tried to take a hold of her but your arm gave up before you reached her, soon your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your head fell backward.

You were too weak. 

Nancy froze for a second with fear as she saw your state, and so hell was loose. 

“Get her down now!”, Nancy’s growl made your body tremble, it was so loud that you were hoping that anyone else noticed. 

“Fuck you”, Chad replied as you heard a struggle in front of you… they were holding Nancy now as Brad began to move again, your heart sinking 

“Her boyfriend is being called right now!”, Nancy yelled as you could hear her struggling while you passed in front of her. 

The cold air hit you hard and you cried as you tried to move from Brad’s hold but he wouldn’t budge, they had managed to sneak you and this was the worst-case scenario. Billy was the only thing you thought before your brain began to shut down when you began to drown in the darkness. 

“We shouldn’t have given her so many”, Logan muttered as he opened the door of the car that was parked in the front patio of Tina’s house, close to many others. 

“Can you just shut up?”, Brad growled as he tightened the hold on your body, and tried to see how he could fit you in the car correctly. 

“Maybe it’s better”, Logan muttered as he opened the driver’s door, still talking to himself. “She won’t remember anything”

“WHERE IS SHE?”

The growl coming from the main door from the house shook Brad and Logan to the core. They both turned around to see Billy, exiting the party with Steve and Nancy behind him. 

Billy had been trying to get a Heather Miller off his back since he had started to play a beer-pong match, it had all been easy and messing around until Heather had come in and began to linger closer to Billy each time he drank. She had placed a kiss on his jaw when he had barked at her to back off, people began to laugh around them and scream things, Heather seemed to be annoyed by the statement and tried to talk him out of being so aggressive. Billy remained silent and shrugged her off each time she tried to flirt with him again, it was annoying to him and he knew that his friends would take any chance to start a rumor that could affect your relationship. So, the rest of the time he tried to get as far away from Heather as he possibly could, he even flipped her off before Steve had run towards him and ask him to go with him.  

Billy felt as if a black hole had grown in his stomach as Steve told him what had happened, that some guys were trying to take you somewhere and that you were barely conscious, that Nancy was trying to hold them back but you needed him now. 

Billy wasn’t exactly sure how fast he had arrived, how he didn’t even notice the guy on the floor that Nancy had managed to beat up with a flower vase at the foyer or how he couldn’t hear anything because his heart and breathing were so loud that he could only focus on what he saw. 

And there you were: completely limp, head falling from Brad’s arm, eyes rolled back on the back of your head. You seemed so small; it shook Billy.

Sometimes Billy had these gaps in time when he became so mad that he didn’t feel like himself anymore, he could only feel the anger filling his body as the seconds passed. It was almost automatic when his hands formed into fists and he began to growl. You had talked to him about it and had helped him to never lose control again since you began dating, helping him breathe and control his emotions. 

But not this time. 

Billy yelled as he took Logan first. The guy didn’t even have a second before Billy yanked the keys out of his hands and smashed the boy’s head against the window of the car. Billy didn’t really notice when the window cracked, he only noticed when it broke in front of him as he smashed once again Logan’s head. 

Logan fell on the ground with a groan, blood coming out of the right side of his face, laying with the broken glass on the floor. Billy then turned around quickly to go and get you, Brad had already been cornered by Steve and Nancy while Johnathan tried to rip you off from Brad’s hold. 

“HEY!”, someone yelled as he pushed Billy making him slam against the car door. 

Billy turned around to see Chad, nose already bloody from Nancy’s punch and more coming out of his eyebrow cut thanks to the vase. The guy was already beaten up by Nancy, badly, but Billy didn’t hesitate to beat him to a pulp with his fist. It seemed rather like a gap of time where Billy had no control, as his knuckles slammed against the guy's jaw while he screamed in pain. Chad managed to punch Billy on his ribs but Billy quickly retaliated and knocked him out with a single punch. 

Billy’s breathing was too shaken up, he almost couldn’t even hear how Nancy had been telling him to stop as he kept kicking the guy on the ground. It was only until Nancy hit him in the back of his head, rather hard, that he turned around. 

“We got her”, Nancy yelled at him as she glared at Billy. She didn’t seem too shaken up, her hands were bloody as well and her eyes seemed steady. 

Billy’s eyes traveled to Steve who had you in his arms while Johnathan let Brad fall from his hold against the car, his nose was already bloody, as well as his lips. But at the moment, Billy didn’t care about anything else, he got closer to you so quickly that he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. 

“Y/N”, he whispered as tears began to stream from his face. 

You didn’t respond, your eyes with long lashes were closed while your arm was dangling. You were cold, you usually got cold as Billy would work as a heater for you, but right now you were too cold. 

It hurt. 

Billy swore he had heard something breaking inside of his chest, he sucked in a breath as he pressed your cheek with his palm as if in any moment you would open your eyes again, that you would watch him lovingly and place a kiss on his lips like many times before but you didn’t react, you seemed lost. 

It hurt him so much that when he heard a groan coming from the floor, he saw Brad there with barely any real damage on him. Billy felt his muscles tensing up as he walked towards him, ignoring Nancy’s pleas. Billy seemed like a robot as he quickly opened again the door of the car and place Brad’s hand on the edge, without much thought, he shut the door roughly.

“aaaaAAHHH!!”

The painful scream coming from Brad’s lips shocked Nancy and Steve, and even you in your state. The scream had been the only thing that had managed to make you come back from the darkness, you couldn’t really move but your body was screaming for something to happen but your limbs seemed useless. 

Billy quickly kneeled and punch Brad again, making his nose bleed even more. The groans and whimpers coming from Brad didn’t bother Billy, it only bothered him when he wrapped one hand around Brad’s neck and he noticed his knuckles already getting purple. 

He hated being like this. He knew you would disapprove if you had been there watching him but the rage that he was feeling at the moment, he hadn’t felt it in such a long time that if he thought he remained still, he would burst. 

“I see you or your rat friend’s again, and I’ll kill you”, Billy murmured as he let go of Brad’s neck and allowed him to breathe again as he coughed thanks to the pressure Billy had on him.

Billy turned around to see Nancy, Steve, and Johnathan looking terrified, he tried to shake it off and came back to you. 

“They must have roofied her”, Johnathan explained as Billy was desperately trying to wake you up. 

“Y/N, please are you there?”, Billy couldn’t believe it was his voice, so wobbly and small as he moved your hair from your face and took a hold of you had, begging internally for you to wake up. 

You couldn’t believe it was his voice either, you wanted to scream and cry, you wanted to be held by him and feel safe again. But you couldn’t do anything, you could only beg your body to move, nudge, talk, do something. 

And it seemed as if it had listened to you for a moment. 

“Billy”, the whisper was so faint that Billy wasn’t sure it was real, he stopped dead on his track and saw how your glassy eyes were half opened and Billy felt his shaking hands coming over to your hand. 

But then you suddenly gave up, the darkness eating you once again as your eyes rolled to the back of your head once more and you were lying there, emotionless. 

Billy felt his body cold. 

“Y/N?”, Billy asked as tears streamed down once more. “Baby?”, Billy’s voice was so raw and shaken up that it almost scared Nancy as he looked at her and yelled. “Nancy, what should we do?” 

Nancy stayed still for a second, doubting herself but then she walked decidedly towards Steve who was holding your body. “We have to check her breathing and her heartbeat”, Jonathan coming right up helping her to check your vitals, while Billy gave a step back and held your cold hand. 

“She’s still breathing, it’s like she fell asleep”, Nancy answered.

“We have to take her to a hospital”, Steve stated as he held you tighter on his arms. 

Billy panicked and shook his head, knowing exactly that -even though your parents had come to accept your relationship- they wouldn’t waste a second if he gave them a reason to break you guys up. 

“Her parents would know; you know they would never let her see me again”, Billy explained to Steve, his eyes pleading with him not to do it because he knew what the consequences were and he might ruin what made you and Billy happy.  

Steve didn’t like Billy, but he had never seen him like this or anyone for that matter. He had never seen such true desperation; he had never seen someone show such raw emotions for someone. He didn’t like Billy, but you did and Steve knew that Billy was everything you wanted. 

“Fuck, what should we do?”, Johnathan sighed as Billy began taking you from Steve’s arms. 

Billy remained a second as he adjusted you in his arms, his arms around you securely as he watched you carefully. You seemed so pale and fragile, and he hated it because he knew that this wasn’t you. He couldn’t get out of his head how scared you must’ve been before you went out, what they had done to you. He wanted to take you to the hospital, he knew it was the most appropriate way but he also knew that he really couldn’t and at that moment he had a flashback to California when people took more pills than they should. 

“She’s going to have to throw this up”. Billy stated as he tried to wipe the tears with his shoulder as he took you into the house, as quickly as he could. 

“Billy, what are yo-”, Nancy protested as she followed him but Billy was on a mission, 

“She couldn’t have taken them too long ago”, he muttered as he entered Tina’s house.

He was shaking as he muttered to himself deliriously: you are going to be okay; you are going to be okay; you are going to be okay. He pulled you closer to his chest and his eyes urgently tried to find a bathroom, people were gathering around him at the entrance of the party, watching Billy splattered with blood and knuckles purple with you limp on his arms. Billy didn’t care about the people as he tried to see where was it better to take you, he even wondered if the kitchen was right but he knew you wouldn’t want anyone to see you or him in that state. 

Tina ran towards him, as she was about to speak Billy interrupted her.

“Tina!” He screamed, his voice was raw and torn -the urgency in his electric blue eyes seemed almost psychotic-, she shook at his scream. “Bathroom with a shower”

“Oh my god, what happened?”, Tina squealed as she tried to get closer but Billy stepped back. 

“Bathroom”, he growled once more startling Tina. 

“Upstairs in my room! Turn to the left”

Billy said nothing as he ran upstairs, adjusting you in his arms as he followed Tina’s instructions. He let out an all-encompassing sigh of relief as he entered the bathroom. 

“Come on, come on baby”, he whispered as he placed you on the tub and then turned on the shower. The lukewarm water began to wash your legs and lower abdomen as Billy hurried and placed himself behind you. 

He made sure that you were well position, laying on his chest so he could sit you, and then he began to place his fingers on your throat. But nothing was happening, you weren’t reacting as he tried to place his fingers on the right spot for you to throw up whatever they had given to you. 

Tears began to fall from his face, a part of him glad they were being masked with the drops of water. Billy felt like he wanted to puke himself as he gazed at the bottom of the bathtub and realized the blood was being mixed with the water -blood from the guys that he had beaten up and his own coming from his knuckles-. 

He shivered at the thought of how badly he had reacted and what would you think of him, but he quickly snapped out of it as he continued to cry for you. 

“Y/N please”, he cried. “Baby please, come on”.

Billy’s voice seemed so broken and raw, his pleas could be heard by Steve and Jonathan who were outside the bathroom while Nancy was talking to Tina outside her bedroom, convincing her not to enter until you were okay. 

But you weren’t okay, nothing was happening and Billy snapped. 

“pLEASE! Y/N”, it seemed as if his screamed had ripped through his chest as he held you, and once more, he placed his fingers on your throat in one last attempt. 

The gagging was like music to his ears, how your body finally reacted and you raised a bit from his chest with the help of Billy and you began to throw up. You felt like if you were getting out every organ inside of you as your body spammed as you threw up with Billy’s face bury on your neck as he held you. 

It wasn’t until you finally stopped after a minute of throwing up everything you could, that you realized that the fogginess and darkness that had trapped you were leaving, your head was clearing again and Billy felt like he could breathe. It wasn’t like you were completely fine, your breaths were still raggedy but they were stronger than before and you could raise your head for a second, hold yourself. 

You could hold yourself enough to throw up once more, another round, but this time it felt more like a reaction of the fear that you felt from those guys. You didn’t want anything inside of you, nothing from that night, the thought of those guys made you sick. 

It wasn’t until you were unable to throw up anything else, you turn around softly, still feeling woozy. 

And there he was, the only one you had ever wanted. 

Billy’s hair was wet, the streams of water were still falling from his body but you recognize his tears as well. His blue electric eyes that had always been heaven to you, were red from crying and his usually tan skin seemed as white as a paper, completely pale, he looked terrified. 

Indeed, Billy was terrified but he tried not to show it as he caressed your hair and help you lay more comfortably on his chest. It was only when your eyes connected and you took a big breath that you began to cry. The tears were streaming without control from your eyes and it seemed like before, you just wanted to feel empty and clean and safe. Billy held you as close to him as he could while you sob.

He kissed your head, he kissed the back of your neck and your hands as you whimpered and tried to hold anything from him, the craving of him becoming stronger every second. 

“Hold me”, you slurred and Billy nodded, wrapping his arm around your body as you cuddle against him while being wash with the water. 

“I’m so sorry”, Billy whispered as he rocked you back and forth. “I’ll never leave again”

His voice sounded so truthful that you began to think that he meant something for good, so permanently that it made your heart skip a bit but you didn’t want to say anything, you simply nodded and leaned into him even more, burying yourself against his chest. 

“I love you”, he whispered. 

[stickandthorn]

Orym for the character ask!

First impression - He’s a little bland, but he’s a good balance for the rest of the crazy party. It’s nice to see Liam playing a fighter, he does it in a cool way! And I’m glad to know he’s still on the Air Ashari hype train.

Impression now - Oh my sweet little hyper competent very deadly ballerina man I love you so much. He’s so, interesting, so fun, so dynamic, he’s still the perfect balance for this party, still love the fighting style. I think he’s such a good take on the “good and honorable” character. I wanna know more about him. I love Liam’s physicality for him. He’s just the best.

Favorite moment - This is a hard one, and besides literally everything he does in combat, and most of his ro moments, I’m gonna go with a fun one and say I really loved the Nancy moment with Opal. It was just so insane and stupid and shouldn’t have happened, and yet it did, and it was so fucking funny, and his resigned “mother” will never fail to get me every time. I love watching Liam play off of the other cast members for comedy, he’s very good at building up to someone else’s joke or working off something someone did. And who doesn’t love Liam and Aimee’s ongoing Nancy and her mother tweets?

Idea for a story - This is more a mix of headcanon and story, but I’d love one about him getting drunk or loosening up for some other reason, and accidentally dropping on some unsuspecting people the fact that he knew pretty much all of VM, legendary heroes, since childhood. Scanlan came by and sang him some birthday songs on his 20th, Pike gave him fun buns when he was little and still had long enough hair, Grog gave him and a bunch of other little halflings an insane piggy back ride one time, he once took a nap on Trinket, Percy made him his first little sword and shield, stuff like that. And everyone listening is stunned that he knows these figures of legend so well. I simply love the trope of “what, that isn’t normal?” said about the least normal thing possible. I have some more headcanons related to that, but I’ll drop that in the headcanon section.

Unpopular opinion - I don’t think he’s actually that much of a sad character. He clearly does carry around some sort of grief with him, that much is for sure, but the thing is so do most dnd characters? And yes, Liam likes to explore loss and grief more than most players, but I don’t think Orym is unusually sad. I think people just always plaster the title of “sadboi” onto every character he makes. I think melancholy and sadness is certainly a large part of Orym’s character, but not so much that he should be given that title and have that labeled shoved on him, defining everything he does. Liam should be free from the sadboi trope.

Favorite relationship - I know this is basic, but his relationship to Dorian and Fearne. They just clearly love, trust, and look up to him so much, and he clearly loves them back and wants to protect them equally as much. I just love the dynamic between the three of them so much, especially since we know the context of how they came to be so close, and all the bumps along the way to getting there. It’s like the three people in a friend group who are clearly way closer than everyone else is, but no one mentions it that much. I love it. 

Favorite headcanon - My personal favorite headcanon is that Keyleth  took Orym under her wing from a very young age. My main justification is that, why else would a young, low level halfling be in her guard? I like to think that for whatever reason, maybe his dad or maybe him being a little different from everyone else, or whatever it is, she sort of half adopted him and was very close to him. Mentored him and all that, even when he wasn’t very good at duridry. Which is one of the reasons he knows VM in my above headcanon/story, because he spent a lot of time with Keyleth. Like those kids (me) who spent their early childhoods not relating to kids their age and hanging around adults. I just think it’s a sweet idea. 

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Hi hun! Hope you’re doing well! Could a request a Shikamaru fic! I was thinking maybe it’s obvious to everyone that Shikamaru and Reader like each-other (except themselves of course). But a mission where they have to pretend to be a couple and they finally confess.

😘

Pretenders (Shikamaru x Reader)

A/N: another request. Im not super proud of this one, i really got stuck halfway through and i think that shows here. Thanks for requesting though, and hopefully you still enjoy. Trigger Warning for sexual assault.

word count: 6500

“So, you two set out on a mission tonight right?” Ino asked, leaning her cheek in her hand, nodding toward her two friends across the booth.

“Yep. Supposedly 3 weeks,” Y/N told her. “I won’t get to see you guys for so long.” The girl took a quick sip of her lemonade and sighed. It was a substantial amount of time. It’d been a while since she’d gone somewhere so intensive.

Shikamaru and Y/N had only a couple more hours before they were to be briefed on the details of otheir next mission and whisked away to a far away land for yet another tedious job. Y/N was perfectly fine with the premise of going on a 3 week mission, she’d been home too long and longed for some kind of adventure. She still wasn’t sure the caliber of the mission, nor did she even know where or what they were doing, but she was excited nonetheless.

Shikamaru, of course, wasn’t too fond of the entire idea. Yes, he was more than happy to find out his mission partner was Y/N L/N. Out of all the people he could have been paired with, she was most definitely the least annoying. He really felt like Kakashi had his back lately with missions, giving him ones that were semi decent, and sending him out with his friends. He was certainly grateful for the Hokage’s assignments.

Choji added from his spot near the wall, taking a second away from munching on his lunch. “It won’t be so bad. You guys have each other, after all. How could things get boring when you have your little girlfriend with you, Shikamaru, am I right?”

“Choji…” Shikamaru groaned, pressing his fingers to either side of his temples. These sorts of things borhered the hell out of him. The constant teasing from everyone, not just his teammates, but literally teachers, other squads, his mother, her grandmother. They weren’t dating. They never were dating.

Yet every person in this damned town was under the assumption there was something going on between them. Really, he was just trying to live his life.

Did he want to date her? Yes, a million times over, yes. She was literally perfect, he couldn’t imagine himself with anyone else. But was Y/N at all interested? Definitely not. She was more oblivious than Naruto was with Hinata, and that’s saying a lot. She seemed to ignore everyone when they made jokes, she thought all his measly attempts at flirting were just normal conversation even when he treated Ino completely differently. She wasn’t a dumb girl either. She was smart in her own right.

That’s why he’d begun to think she was maybe avoiding his advances on purpose. That she didn’t like him and she was trying to let him down easy. It was stupid really, and he wished she would just come out with it already, tell him to his face that she just wanted to be friends. It was frustrating, to say the least, but he kept trying.

He could safely say he hadn’t felt this way for another girl in his entire life, and he wouldn’t give up that easily. He really just wanted other people to mind their business. That’s the reason he shot down all the jokes and comments from his friends. They didn’t need to know about his lovelife, that was personal.

Ino smirked, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder and letting a laugh leave her lips. “Come on, Choji. You know how Shika feels about you teasing him.”

“Fine. But you gotta admit it’s funny.”

They continued on with their conversation, Shikamaru groaning at their jokes and the other two laughing the entire time. That was how it usually went. Y/N just listened quietly, sipping away at her lemonade. Those two, his teammates, they always made jokes, it was normal. She was constantly labeled Shikamaru’s girlfriend, and each time he denied it. Over and over again. He didn’t let a single instance slide by.

That’s how she knew to avoid the subject. To keep her feelings to herself. There was no point in confessing to him when he was already so adamant at keeping their relationship out of other people’s mouths. She was a troublesome girl, anyone who thought he saw her as anything different was delusional.

So she kept quiet, just listening.

Each time someone joked, her stomach would turn and she would wait for him to say something, for him to admit they were right, for him to get flushed in the cheeks, for him to reach out and hold her hand and confess his feelings, and each time she was let down brutally. After enough times getting her heart broken, it was only inevitable she give up this false hope. There was no digging her way into his cold heart. He was so closed off, to get inside...it seemed like an impossible feat.

She wasn’t willing to fight for him anymore. It was tiring, and they never got anywhere.

After enough time, she stopped crying herself to sleep. She stopped talking about her crush with Hinata and Ino when the boys weren’t around. She still looked at him with all the love she had to give. He was the best man she knew, how could she not. She just stopped wishing for something that wasn’t going to happen. She stopped investing so much of her time and energy into a useless, pointless dream.

She was tired of running endlessly in circles, over and over again. All because of his dumbass.

Maybe with time, she could try and get over him. With time she could learn to like him the same way as all their other friends. It was always just the little things that would pull her back in every time. It was the walks home at night when she was tired, or she had too many drinks and he’d wrap his arm around her waist and hold her so tight to his side she could feel his heart beating. It was the times he’d lay beside her in the grass and run his fingers through her hair splayed out over the ground. It was the times he would hold her silently as she cried for her mother and father who’d died, and he would rub her back until she could breathe again.

Every single fucking time she got close, the moments she felt she might not be desperately in love with him anymore, he came right in and stole her heart again. It wasn’t his fault, he was just being a good friend, but God, did it hurt sometimes.

And it wasn’t Ino and Choji’s fault for talking about it. It was so fucking obvious she liked him. Y/N followed Shikamaru around like a lost puppy half the time, what else were they supposed to think? They were just wrong in their assumptions that she was anything more to Shikamaru himself. That the boy thought of her as anything more than a troublesome friend who was always needing help with something or another.

She drank the last bit of her drink and set down the glass. “We better be heading to the Hokage tower soon. It’s almost time, and he still has to debrief us and all, “ she told the boy at her right.

“Yeah. I’ll go get my bag from home first and we’ll meet up there?”

“Got it,” Y/N slid out of the booth and waved to her friends. “See you when we get back.”

“Bye, Y/N!” Ino called as the girl left the restaurant with her book bag over her shoulder. She sighed, sinking down into her seat and glaring over at the pineapple head across from them. “You gotta make your move on this mission, Shika. Stop being such a scaredy cat.”

“Listen, you guys don’t know anything about anything, okay? She doesn’t like me that way. She never has.”

“I never thought I’d have to say this, but you’re dumb, man,” Choji laughed. “She obviously likes you.”

“Yeah, yeah. All of you seem to think that but you don’t see how she is with me. We are purely friends. That’s it.”

“Whatever, man,” he waved off the boy’s stern reply and added, “ Have fun on your trip with Y/N. Hope you get lucky.” Those words caused Shikamaru to heat up from his neck to the tips of his ears and he promptly slid out from his seat, straightening his vest as he did so to try and calm himself. That was unnecessary of his friend to say, for sure.

He turned to them once more and nodded his head. “See you around.”

“See you!”

Now all he needed to do was get his things together and meet up with the girl of his dreams for their weeks long mission. Fun times. Especially now that his friends made him annoyed and frustrated with the entire situation again. He’d have to calm down before seeing her soon.

_______

“We’re doing what?” Y/N asked, staring down at their Hokage in disbelief. He’d been detailing their mission and everything seemed normal so far, infiltrating and learning information about a budding coup in a far away nation just on the edge of the Land of Earth and The Land of Wind. It seemed easy enough at first, but then he kept going.

Kakashi sighed. “I said, you two are to be disguised as a princess and her consort from the Land of Sunflowers. The leaders of this land are expecting these royal visitors and you will be taking their place.”

“So, like, he’s gonna be my husband?” she asked for clarification again. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand his words, it was that she didn’t want to believe them. This was her worst nightmare. They would have to pretend to be in a relationship? Shikamaru was going to hate this more than anything and it would be uncomfortable the entire time.

Why did Kakashi have to pick them two, of all his shinobi? Why?

“Yes. That won’t be a problem for two close friends such as yourselves. After all, that’s why I picked you. You have some kind of dynamic going I feel your targets will find believable.” Shikamaru cursed the heavens. Even the fucking Hokage thought they were involved. This was ridiculous. Now this long ass mission he was already dreading was made ten times worse with this awkward situation. “We’re not gonna have a problem, are we?”

It would be okay though. He just had to take a few deep breaths. That’s all.

“No, sir, of course not. I’m ready for anything you throw at me,” she declared, straightening her back and letting the heat fade from her cheeks. She was embarrassed, obviously, but she couldn’t let the Hokage know. It was easier talking to Kakashi though, much easier than Tsunade. Kakashi watched them grow up, he knew them personally from helping them train. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be flustered.

“You’ll take those bags with you. They have some more suitable clothing for royalty. Put them on when you get close to the village. Throw out any indicators you’re from the Leaf as well.”

“Okay.”

“You’re dismissed. Leave as soon as possible,” the gray haired shinobi told them. She nodded and threw the bag over her shoulder, tossing the other one over to Shikmaru who caught it and slung it onto his back. He definitely wasn’t happy about any of this, but maybe it was a sign.

Ino and Choji told him to confess his feelings to her on this mission. Kakashi just told them they would be pretending to be a married couple. As he watched her walking in front of him down the Tower stairs, her head just barely dipped as she absorbed all the information running through her mind, he wondered if maybe this was his opportunity. A make or break type scenario. He had three weeks to figure out how to tell her how he felt in a more direct way than he’d tried before.

He worked out all the scenarios and their outcomes in his head millions of times and every time they ended in disaster. For someone so great at strategy, he sure did struggle with this one.

“So, I guess we’re married now. Should we start kissing or something?” she asked awkwardly as they reached the bottom of the stairs, shifting back and forth from her toes to her heels. He stopped, more like froze, in his path and stared at her.

“Now you're just making it weird,” he replied. “We aren’t even there yet.”

“I know, I was kidding. Trying to lighten the mood, you know,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. Of course he would reply like that. He didn’t like her at all, he couldn’t even take a fucking joke. Had to get all upset over it like a baby, all because he was so set on never dating her ever, never even entertaining the thought. She rolled her eyes, “You don’t have to be so rude about it, geez.”

She kept walking before he could reply. He had a feeling this trip was going to be a lot worse than anyone had anticipated. He was nervous, grumpy, and preparing for the worst. In fact, what he really wanted was a nice long nap.

_________

The dresses that Kakashi packed for her were...extravagant to say the least. They flowed all the way down to her ankles, thick heavy hoop skirts embroidered from head to toe with symbols of the land of sunflowers. She felt strange with her shoulders exposed and her body on display in these outfits which were so unlike the pants and t-shirts she wore when she was back at home or on a normal mission. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and sighed, feeling at least a little covered.

Shikamaru had nice clothes, but they were nothing in comparison to her wild dresses and all the bright colors of the fabric. He looked semi-normal. She was jealous, admittedly, that he still got to wear pants and shirts. He said she looked good in the dress, he actually told her about a dozen times, reassuring over and over again that she looked fine, but she didn’t believe him. She wasn’t dainty, how could she look beautiful when she clearly didn't belong in something so delicate?

Still, when they walked up to the gates of the Land of Shadows, they were greeted like the royalty they pretended to be. They were swept away to the main castle to meet with the King and his wife. It was nearly dinner time, and they were to eat with them as a greeting. It made sense, but Y/N felt herself growing more nervous with the second. She didn’t know the first thing about being a princess, or acting like a monarch. All she knew was fighting and joking with her friends.

Not only that, but how could she convince them that she and Shikamaru were in a relationship? Y/N wasn’t sure they possessed the right dynamic and even if they tried, it would be obvious they were uncomfortable with each other. It was all making her heart race, and she had to take a few deep breaths as they entered the dining room.

But her companion...he knew what he was doing. He was going to put on quite the show, take advantage of the situation. If this week and a half was his only chance to hold Y/N in his heart, than he wouldn't let any opportunities slip by.

Without warning, she found that Shikamaru had reached over and wrapped her hand up in his bigger one, clutching at her shaking fingers. He was so steady, she found herself sinking into his touch. It was comforting, more so than she thought it could be, given the circumstances. His skin was just so warm and soft against hers, it was only natural she felt safer.

“Ah, Princess Ayaka, Duke Hisashi. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” a man called from his place at the table. His wife was sitting beside him, her soft smile only reaching her lips not nearing her eyes. Y/N caught that immediately. Her distance. Silently, she took note of that as the King approached them, extending his arms for an embrace.

“It’s an honor to meet you, your highness,” Shikamaru replied with a smile, an obvious fake one, but damn was he good. She watched as he hugged the man so earnestly, as if he’d sunken right into the role of consort without an issue. She’d have to ask him tonight how he was so good at acting.

“And your beautiful wife,” he extended his hand to the girl and she raised it hesitantly, receiving a soft kiss to the back of her palm. “Come take a seat. Dinner will be served soon.”

The pair took their seats beside each other on the opposite side of the table, Y/N directly across from the Queen, who looked up at her for merely a moment only to sigh and go back to fiddling with the curve of her wine glass. "Your highness," Y/N hummed to the woman who nodded.

"Oh what a dream, to be young and in love," she said. "I remember the days."

"Please dear! To me, you will always be my beautiful young wife! We share a love to last a lifetime," the king cheered, placing his hand over that of his wife's as he took his seat at the table. "I apologize for her gloom. She's been going through a rough patch. We are more than overjoyed to have you here."

"It's fine. We all have our bad days," the girl replied softly.

After a few minutes of small talk, just dipping their feet into the conversation, a couple servants brought out plates of food and wine bottles full of vintage drink truly meant for the highest of royalty. Compared to the plain sake she had drank at home, this was liquid gold dripping down her throat. Shikamaru sent her a warning look. Y/N was known to be quite the lightweight, and even a couple glasses of wine could send her into a tipsy stupor. He really knew her too well, so hyperaware of the things she did.

"So, how did you two meet?" their host asked, taking a moment away from the chicken in front of him. "It's said that you married for love, not arrangement. That's true?"

Y/N and Shikamaru hadn't been versed very well on the details, just on the basics. Her heart beat increased, stress building up. Her lies would have to be good.

"Yes. You've heard right. He was my friend before anything else. We met as children." That much she knew for sure after reading the mission summary.

"Oh wow. Childhood lovers. Very sweet," the queen sighed, resting her cheek in her palm.

Y/N would be lying if she didn't feel a bit of similarities between her own story and that of the real princess she was pretending to be. Shikamaru and Y/N grew up together, for as long as she could remember. She started to love him before she even really knew what love was. It only made sense she pretended to be a princess in the same situation.

And when he held her hand again, this time under the table, his thumb brushing over her knuckles so softly she thought she might melt. Her cheeks began to heat up under his touch and she smiled. It was so nice holding his hand, pretending to care about each other this way. Not that she needed to pretend.

Dinner droned on, and she continued to hold his hand the entire time, besides when they were spooning at their food. For once on a mission, it felt like they were completely at peace. Of course, they were both supposed to be analyzing the movements of everyone around them to make sure no one was planning a coup like Kakashi told them. But she couldn’t held but cherish the moments of calmness and warmth between everyone.

The King and his wife were genuinely some of the kindest people she’d ever met, whether they were just acting that way or not. It was a pleasure to have dinner with them, talking and laughing like an uncle would with his nieces and nephews. It had that same energy, talking to him.

“Hisashi, you wouldn’t mind accompanying me to my library? I have some books I think you might enjoy,” the man said, standing from the table. The rest of them slid out of their chairs after him, and she had to brush down her skirts to make sure everything was in line. It was tedious, wearing these outfits without any prior warning. She felt like a clown. The Queen was so effortless in her movements, how could she not feel stupid standing beside someone so regal?

“That sounds great, your majesty-”

“Not necessary. Call me Shoto, that’s my name after all, and you are an honored guest,” he laughed. He reached over and gave his wife a gentle kiss on the cheek before turning on his heel and heading toward the door. She really expected Shikamaru to just leave with just a simple goodbye, or a “I’ll see you tonight” kind of thing.

Definitely not this.

He was gonna go all out this time around.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispered, just loud enough for only her to hear, over her shoulder into her ear. When his warm breath hit her skin, shivers ran up and down her spine. Her eyes widened and she turned to stare up at him, cursing herself when she felt heat rise up in her cheeks and burn the tips of her ears. Was he serious, or just teasing her? He always liked to crack jokes like that.

But when she felt his rough hand pressed to her cheek, lifting her face ever so carefully to meet his, she knew he wasn’t messing around. His eyes met hers for a split second, and she could have sworn he winked down at her before pressing his lips to hers.

Honestly, she thought she might have a heart attack right there in the dining room. Shikamaru was kissing her. It felt even better than she dreamed it would. Chapped lips running against hers, heat pooling in her stomach, heart pounding in her chest.

As soon as it started, though, the kiss was over, and he took a step back. "See you tonight, Princess."

She was keen on catching the smirk on his lips, and the way he laughed to himself as he walked out of the room with the King before him.

Y/N stood there silently, her fingers pressed to her lips, breath caught in her throat. The boy she’d wanted for so long just kissed her like it was nothing, and she was left all alone to deal with this predicament, all the feelings that came rushing in after. All she knew for sure, whether he was serious or not, was that she really, seriously liked him. She liked him a lot more than she thought.

And now they had a whole week and a half of fake kisses and hand holding to endure. Jeez.

__________

“You know, you’re nothing like the other princesses I’ve met,” the guard said to her as she waited for Shikamaru to show up. He was still out with the King practicing archery. Apparently that was a hobby a lot of these rich country men had. So far, she wasn’t suspecting a thing out of the King or any of his closest acquaintances. They were nice as could be and seemed sincere in their intentions toward the village alliances. She had no reason to suspect them, and was beginning to think a coup was just as Kakashi thought, a mere rumor.

That made things a lot easier.

She sighed, tapping her fingers on her wrist. She wasn’t a fan of having a guard watching her every second of the day, especially not the talkative ones. This one was strange. He gave off this energy she couldn’t describe as anything other than creepy.

“Yeah? That’s nice,” she muttered.

“It’s just, usually princesses are pompous, full of themselves, spoiled women. You aren’t the same,” he continued, even if it was obvious she wanted him to shut up and go about his business while she did hers. She felt uncomfortable being alone in this land, without any of her weapons or the ability to fight back if someone was acting sketchy. She was forced to sit by like some little, ditsy princess just watching and observing.

Honestly, though, Shikamaru was probably having a great time. All he had to do was eat with the royalty, play board games, shoot some arrows, and then go to sleep. There was no extensive fighting or thinking going on, just sitting around observing and waiting for something suspicious to happen.

The queen would normally hang out with the female guests but thanks to her bouts of depression she stayed in her room, leaving Y/N completely at the mercy of time. So much time passed, and she was bored of it.

“I’m honestly just another princess. You’d be surprised though. Many princesses are just as modest as I am, it’s not all that uncommon,” she commented, taking a peek over at the man, only to quickly look away. He had quite the hungry look on his face, and if her eyes hadn’t deceived her, his own were trained right on her breasts. Damn these dresses.

Y/N wrapped her arms across her chest and slumped down, trying to hide herself from this weird man watching over her. Only, it seemed impossible. He was so much taller, could just look over her shoulder. She couldn’t run away and raise suspicion. She had to sit here and wait for someone else to break the tension.

She was scared.

“I meant that as a compliment. You say thank you when someone compliments you, yeah?” he mumbled, a firm hand reaching out to snatch her wrist. It hurt, his grip on her arm, and she winced at the feeling. “Say thank you.”

She bit her lip and refused to meet his eyes, instead focusing on his hands. If she needed to, she would defend herself but only to a small extent. She couldn’t blow her cover just because some guard was manhandling her. Take a deep breath, Y/N. It’s gonna be okay. Just calm down.

“T-Thank you,” she gulped, hoping he would drop her wrist. But he didn’t. He only held on tighter.

He smiled, yellow teeth showing through his thin lips. “See, you are a good girl, aren’t you?” he questioned, and she felt his other hand run up her waist. All she could do was whimper, shivers running up her spine and any skin this man laid his hands on. The only hope she had was that another guard come walking around and see them.

It was unlikely, but she prayed for a savior to make their appearance.

His hand worked its way down to her ass, and she felt him squeeze. Vomit rose up in her throat and she squirmed away, pressing herself against the wall as tight as she could so his hands had nowhere to go. Instead, he took to fondling her breasts in his hands. She could only bite her lips and feel the tears bubble up in her eyes as he pushed down the fabric of her top and pressed his filthy palms against her skin.

“What the fuck?” a voice cursed from behind them. The guard was torn off of her form and she brought up her hands to cover herself, tears still dripping thickly from her eyes as she cried, little breathy sobs leaving her lips. Shikamaru stood there, hands shaking at his sides as he glared over at the guard. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. Y/N watched as her friend turned red in the face, burning up with an anger she rarely saw from him, if ever.

“You tell me, your highness. Your wife seduced me!” the guard cried, clearly lying to cover himself and his sins.

The eyes of all three men, the guard, Shikamaru, and the King standing near the footwell of the stairs, turned to her. She just cried harder, shaking like a leaf in front of everyone. “He grabbed me and started to touch me, and-and I couldn’t do anything,” Y/N told them all through her pained cries.

The King marched up the steps and grabbed his guard by the arm, yanking him toward the doorway to enter the castle. He appeared worn from his workout, tired and sweaty, but he was awake enough to realize the severity of the situation. He bowed low to Y/N and her companion.

His apology ran thick from his mustached lips, “This is unacceptable. Honored guests, I apologize for everything that’s happened. I will take care of this, I assure you. Please, don’t hesitate to ask for anything you need tonight.” Shikamaru nodded, and they watched as the pair of men walked into the castle, no doubt to find another guard to incarcerate the guard in question.

Shikamaru turned to her and winced, seeing her dress pushed down below her breasts and the tremors running through her hands desperate to cover them. He watched as hot, heavy tears ran thick down her cheeks and her lips quivered and shook with fear and trauma. Gently, he moved her hands to the side and brought her dress back up to cover her chest. He worked carefully, making sure not to startle her or make things worse.

The woman sunk into his touch, leaning her head against his shoulder and sobbing. “It’s gonna be okay, Y/N. You’re safe now.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and tugged her close to his chest, pressing a soft, gentle hand to the back of her head to stroke her hair. “I’m so sorry. I won’t leave you alone again, okay?”

“Shika, “ she whimpered, “I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life. I couldn’t do anything to defend myself and there was no one else around to help me. I-I didn’t know what to do.”

“I know. You must have been so scared,” he whispered. She just nodded against his shoulder, crying deeper into his chest. He hugged her tighter and swore to himself, even if he couldn't make it happen, that he would protect her. This kind of thing would never happen to her again if he had any say at all. “I promise this won’t happen again.”

"I've just never been in that position before. I always have the upper hand. It was awful. I was so scared and I wanted to cry for you to come help me but I didn't know where you were."

"God, I'm sorry," he mumbled, hugging her tighter in a desperate attempt to calm her shaking. He just wanted for her to be better, even if he knew that wasn't an option right now.

He felt so hopeless, knowing the only thing he could do was promise, to say things without any actual basis behind them. He was just whispering words to the wind hoping they would stick and he was right. He cursed himself for not being there in the first place to protect her, to make sure something like this never happened in the first place. He really was useless when she needed him the most.

He wouldn’t even argue if she said she wanted to go home, if she never wanted to see him again. He let her down. For the first time ever, he let her down in the most terrible, awful way he could think of. And now she was crying and he didn’t know how to make it better. He was really trash.

For now, all he could do though was hug her and promise her the world, all these things that might make her feel safe and comfortable, make her feel less alone and scared. It was the least he could do.

________

Finally, after a long evening of socializing and another huge dinner literally fit for a king, Y/N found herself stripping off her gowns and heavy undergarments, switching into something much lighter and comfortable for the night.

She was tired from the day. From being left alone for the good part of the morning just sitting in the sun waiting around. She was tired from the assault on her body by the guard whom was supposedly in jail right now for his actions. She was tired from all the crying and the shaking. She was just tired.

Shikamaru was out, finishing up drinks with the King and some of his subordinates for the time being, so she sunk down into the mattress near the far wall, curling up under the down covers and pulling a book from the table beside her. Anything to ease her mind for a while. She felt safe being alone in the confides of the bedroom, knowing that her friend was right down the hall if she needed him.

She scanned the pages of the novel quietly, humming each time she turned a page, leaning on her elbow so the pages would be illuminated in the candlelight.

After about an hour, the door slid open and her companion entered, shutting the door silently behind him. "You aren't asleep? I expected you to be after such a long day."

"I'm tired, but I'm not in the mood for sleep yet," she shrugged, still skimming through the pages of her novel. "Did you have fun?"

"Nah. It's such a drag having to hang out with that old man. He's nice but he never stops talking." He took off his coats and tossed them onto a chair, kicking off his heavy boots and thick socks. "Annoying, having to wear all this fancy shit too."

"Trust me, I know." She shifted over in the bed so he had more space to lay himself down, kicking out his legs and crossing his ankles. "Do you know what's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

He nodded, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side to peek at her face. His eyes slid down to the novel turned over in her hands and smirked, "Yeah. You've got book club. Have fun with that." She tossed her book back on the table beside her and instead curled further into the blankets.

His eyes caught hers and he smiled, one of those undeniably handsome intoxicating smiles she loved so deeply. "You know, you look kinda cute like that."

"Huh?"

He shrugged, "All curled up under the blankets like a little baby. It's cute. I'm just calling it how I see it."

If she wasn't flustered before, she definitely was now. He was undeniably making her feel some sort of way, and she was loving the attention. He was being so bold, so unlike him. She questioned what had compelled him to act like this, to say such things. They weren't in character anymore, it wasn't like he had to say these things.

"Thanks, Shika." She felt dumb but what was she supposed to say? She was overwhelmed. "But we're alone now. You don't have to act all lovey-dovey."

He crossed his arms beneath his head and sighed, eyes gazing up at the canopy. He mumbled, just loud enough to reach her ears, “When this is all over, I’m gonna miss you being my princess.” She peered over at him in the candlelit room, making out his faint silhouette in the darkness. Her heart fluttered in her chest at his sweet words. She never imagined in a million years Shikamaru would say these things to her, and now that it was happening she didn’t know how to react.

She dreamed of this moment for a while now. The thoughts of Shikamaru confessing his feelings and then her falling into his arms dramatically. It was a fantasy of hers, a guilty pleasure. Far too dramatic to ever be a reality.

That's why she was too shocked to meet his eyes. His princess. Those words made her woozy.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're not stupid. You know what I'm talking about," he said calmly.

"You don't want things to go back to normal?" Y/N asked, hesitant. She felt nervous, diving into these waters. Each words felt like it held so much weight. It was a puzzle, just finding the right thing to say, how to reply to his statement. "Just friends, like before?"

"Is that what you want?"

And when she really thought about it, he was right. She didn't want to go back to normal. She wanted to continue holding his hand, kissing his cheek and his lips, loving each other with their words and their gazes and all the little touches. She wanted all of this to last and as the mission came to a close, she found herself worrying for the future empty of all those things.

She shook her head, just barely able to bring her eyes up to meet his. He looked bored, but she knew he cared. He cared a lot, actually. "I-I think I'd like if we could stay like this."

"Falling in love with you, Y/N, was one of the easiest things I've ever done. Finding the right time to tell you, that's been troublesome," he confessed, blowing a stray piece of hair from his eyes. "You never seemed emotionally available, really."

"I always was. I was always waiting for you, Shikamaru. Ever since we were just teenagers, I've been waiting for you," she told him, letting her heart finally come out with her words. "I just thought you wanted to be friends. Before this mission, I had completely given up on being with you, but then everything seemed to fall into place on this trip."

"When Kakashi told us we would be married for this mission, I have to admit, I got excited." He rolled onto his side to face her. She was still curled up in her blanket, and he felt like he was melting. The most beautiful woman in the entire world right in front of him, his heart playing right into her hands. He was okay with that. He was okay with this girl having his entire soul if that meant he would see that smile and those eyes peering up at him.

He wasn't a romantic man. Far from it. But she brought out a side of him he'd only heard about from love struck novelists, such kinds Kakashi sensei would read.

"I just knew I'd have to shoot my shot with you," he finished, sending a wink her way. She truly was swoon, like putty in his hands. Her words came faster than she could think to stop them.

"Shikamaru, I think I love you. When you kissed me for the first time, I knew it was true. All these feelings for the past few years weren’t in vain. I love you."

"The feeling is mutual."

The girl crawled out from under the blankets and over to him on the other side of the mattress. Her arms wound around his neck and as best she could, she curled into his chest. Her ear pressed to his heart, beating loud and constant in her mind. He was more than happy to let her cuddle up to him, in fact, he relished in the feeling.

This is what he'd been missing out on all this time. The hugs. The cuddles. The looks in the dark full of love and longing. It was nice, to lay there with someone he knew for sure, without any doubt, loved him to the moon and back. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tighter to his tired form, letting her sink further into his touch.

Kakashi knew what he was doing sending them. Two lovers with a mask over their emotions, straight into a game full of dancing around their feelings and pretending to be something they always wanted to be. Everything played out perfectly, a happy ending for a couple of worthy shinobi.

He was happy. That's all he could ask for.

[thetriggeredhappy]

in the dadspy au, what if jeremy was just going to be an assistant/cook/janitor at the base while his dad was being the mercenary (since spy didnt want him to follow the "career" but didnt want to be separated from him), but then jeremy turned out to be even better than the hired scout so they promote him to that position and spy is not happy with this at all

ok i was gonna put this in the queue to post but im impatient because im happy with this one. only thing i didnt have was spy being upset by this development

(warnings for canon-typical violence, discussion of mercenary-type things, paranoia, alcohol, and exactly one proper fight scene. consider this pg-13)

-

“Would you prefer the good news first, or the bad news?” Dad asked.

Jeremy looked up at him from where he’d snatched up the sunday comics from his dad’s newspaper and was doodling little hats on the characters while they waited for their food to arrive. “Uh,” he said, “good news first.”

“Alright. The good news is, do you remember that line I’ve been tailing? The one in New Mexico?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy said, then nodded a little more confidently. “Immunity, safehouse, somethin’ like that, right?”

“...Something like that,” Dad agreed carefully, and that made him raise an eyebrow. “It went well, and I think there’s the very real possibility that I’ve all but closed the deal, all they want now is an interview.”

“...Interview, singular,” Jeremy said slowly.

“That’s where the bad news begins. Unfortunately... merde, how to phrase this?” He drew a hand down his face. “They’re fully willing to hire me on, but this is a more... corporate affair than I’m used to. They have rules, stipulations. Long story short, they will not hire you as a mercenary on the basis of your age.”

Jeremy tensed. “What?” he demanded. “That’s stupid, I’m old enough to drive and buy guns and whatever the hell else.”

“But not rent a car, at least in many places in the United States.”

“But—“ he started, and remembered they were in public, and lowered his voice to a hiss, leaning in. “We’re hired killers, thieves, criminals. Do they really think we’re above having fakes? False documentation?”

“Actually, that is one of their requirements,” Dad said dryly, taking a paper from his jacket and consulting it. “I’m not happy about it either, mon lapin, but those are their rules. Already they have slightly bent them for one individual, and already I am on thin ice. But I may have a way to manage this.”

“Yeah?” Jeremy asked, nervous now.

“I know the woman responsible for new hires and managing the team I’ve applied for. She owes me a favor—a fairly hefty one. When I go in for the interview, one of my demands will include you being hired on, not as a mercenary, but for... for custodial purposes, something like that. Cook, janitor, security guard, secretary—whatever job there is that needs doing there, and I am sure that there will be one. Something to allow you to live there. Pay will likely be her stipulation, and the play I hope to make is that really, you’re overqualified for the position and she’s lucky to have someone so competent available, and in the worst case scenario, the pay is still good enough even for just one of us that we will not cut too deeply into the savings.”

The savings. That made Scout blink, because they only ever brought up the savings when—

“You think this could be it?” he asked quietly. “Like, it it?”

A hard exhale, and he leaned his cheek on his hand. “Potentially,” he finally said. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but the job promises a variety of things. Medical attention available, extremely low levels of danger, and most of all, confidentiality. The only people who will know any name we give them would be the woman in charge of hiring us and their singular medical professional. There is no mode of communication to or from the compound outside of emergency lines to the organization and a single secure payphone located two miles away, there is no civilization within a twenty-five minute drive minimum, and this operation has been going long enough that the local authorities have long since grown used to being paid off, and likely don’t even remember what for anymore. I cash in a few valuable favors and ask this employer to turn a blind eye, we’d have somewhere remote and secure to spend our time after our deaths are faked and once the contract is over, we can start over. No ties to the past.”

“Freedom,” Jeremy marveled.

Silence for a few seconds, broken only by the quiet chatter of the rest of the diner. “I want to warn you, this work may not be glamorous. It may not even be particularly easy. I’m giving you the option of saying no,” Dad said.

“What?! Yes, hell yes, are you joking? To get us to living like normal people? Steady work? Livin’ in one place? Count me in!” he laughed.

“What if the job is something you won’t enjoy? Long hours, boring work?” Dad asked, entirely serious.

“I’m still on board.”

“What if the other people working there are rude to you? Disrespectful?”

“Well most of the people I meet through our job now try to kill us, so really it’s an upgrade.”

“What if there’s no diner nearby?” he asked, and there was a glint of humor in his eye.

“Damn, sorry, that’s the dealbreaker,” he joked right back, and that made him snort, shake his head, greet the waitress as she came back with their coffee and soda and then informed them that their food would be out shortly.

“I’ll ask,” was what Dad said once she was gone again, and that was that, and they started driving to New Mexico two nights later.

-

“—A warm welcome to our two newest recruits. This is the Spy, and this is the Guard.”

“Guard?” asked one of the men at the table, his accent thick and distinctly Russian. It made Jeremy tense slightly, but he didn’t let it show.

“Night Guard,” Jeremy answered, voice clipped.

“He’s not technically hired on as a mercenary like you all, he won’t be joining you on missions,” the short woman apparently named Miss Pauling (Jeremy was fairly sure it was a fake name) said, hands folded in front of her neatly. “He’s here to work security. Keep an eye out during the night, filter through the camera footage, handle the archiving, things like that.”

“We’re hiring on a civvie now?” asked another man, thick Scottish accent a little harder to digest than the eyepatch and the grenade he was in the process of fiddling with the internal mechanisms of.

“He’s combat ready, and will still be armed. His job is to essentially make sure you’re all safe enough to sleep through the night,” Miss Pauling said.

“I’m not some chump,” Jeremy agreed. “I know my stuff.”

“How old is he?” another man asked, this one in a hardhat with a heavy drawl, looking concerned.

“Twenty, for your information,” Jeremy said, a little sharply, eyes narrowed.

“If you have any other questions, there’ll be time later on. For now, I do need to show our two newest recruits where they’ll be staying,” Miss Pauling cut in.

There was an audible scoff from one of the men at the table, a dramatic rolling of eyes. Jeremy glared at him. He unfolded and refolded his extremely tattoo’d tree-trunk-like arms, tugging the visor of his hat between. “Sorry,” he said, accent thick and distinctly Californian. “I just don’t have the most trust for some scrawny kid in slacks and creep in a ski mask.”

“Scout, don’t start,” Miss Pauling warned.

“Just saying,” this man, apparently called Scout, muttered under his breath regardless.

“Don’t,” she said again, more firmly, and ignored the second eye roll she got for the trouble. “If you two would follow me.”

And they were shown around the base, and Jeremy in particular was shown into a room stuck behind three locked doors, where he found camera feeds and recording equipment. She gave him a basic overview and a thick packet of instructions and policies labelled ‘highly classified’ and a phone number to call if he had any further questions, and a set of hours that were apparently meant to become the new standard for him (with the quiet addendum that if he finished early that was alright, and that technically he could turn in early if two or more members of the team were already awake for the day and he was caught up on the archiving of old tapes).

Then he was left to “get used to the equipment”, which he assumed meant his dad was getting a similar rundown of his job, and it took a pretty quick glance through the packet to understand that clearly this place ran on an extremely secretive and closely monitored series of systems. In the packet, between the sections on camera maintenance and operation hours, were a few sheets detailing what were apparently the movement patterns of the various members of the team, including frequented locations and previously recorded large-scale infractions (mostly on the part of the Soldier, the Medic, the Scout, and one from the Demoman).

He wasn’t the one with the title Spy, but fuck, it seemed like he might as well have it. His entire job wasn’t even necessarily to keep the team safe overnight—he was just meant to watch all of them to make sure nobody was anywhere or doing anything out of the ordinary.

The next time he saw his dad, waiting outside the infirmary to get some sort of physical evaluation, his face was arranged carefully enough that he could tell he’d figured out something was up, too.

“Got your job assignments?” he asked quietly in French, glancing towards the door into the infirmary.

A nod, a glance. “I’m intrigued by the methods used in employee evaluation,” he deadpanned. “Especially the fact that apparently, they’re willing to assign employees for the explicit task of doing them.”

“How often?”

“Weekly.”

“Thorough,” Jeremy deadpanned, and glanced towards the hall at the distant sound of laughter, echoing from somewhere else on the base. “That’s basically mine too.”

There was a long silence, and when Jeremy looked back over, his dad was giving him an almost expectant look, waiting. All he had to offer him was a shrug, which was returned after a moment with a vague shake of the head. “I don’t believe it will be a problem,” his dad said simply. “Not for us, at the very least.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Uh, anyways, good luck with the… physical, or whatever,” he said, and received a pat on the shoulder before he walked back off down the hall, hoping to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do with an entire room all to himself. He’d almost never had one before.

-

He was used to time changes and jet lag, to needing to switch his sleep schedule on the regular, but the switch to a straight up night shift was a rough one.

His nine-to-five was actually a ten-to-six, as in 10 PM through 6 AM. This meant that, assuming he managed to get his schedule in order, he’d be able to join in on the team dinners if he woke up early and could eat breakfast with them before he went to bed.

Very quickly he realized that going to dinner and breakfast with the team was going to become a staple part of his routine, because it didn’t take long before he began to feel extremely lonely all of the time. In a dark little room, everyone else asleep, scrubbing through tapes from during the day while half keeping an eye on the live feed from around the base that never showed much of anything, it was brutal. It was suffocating.

It was easy, at least. It didn’t take long before he got efficient at it and could start zoning out, and it wasn’t like he was under much pressure. His was the only room without any cameras in it. Security risk, apparently. 
And to be honest, what small amount he and Dad interacted with mercenaries and other criminal types, Jeremy didn’t really tend to like them much. A lot of them were loud and rude and had the potential to turn around and try and kill them whenever they felt like it. He didn’t expect that he’d like the team as much as he did. He especially didn’t expect to like them so much without ever really talking to them.

But watching the camera feeds from throughout the day, seeing what they were up to, they were just... nice people. Soldier out by the dumpsters practicing rocket jumps and wrangling raccoons and apparently trying to learn how to spin a rifle, Pyro’s regular minor explosions in the kitchen while cooking and the surprised and frantic way they cleaned it up every time, the Demoman’s tendency to whistle wherever he went, watching through the feed as they all played cards and argued and jostled each other. They all seemed really nice. Really cool. Really dorky, too, but mostly just really nice and really cool.

And there were a few of them he was less sure about—he couldn’t get eyes on the Medic most of the time, what with the one camera in the Medbay being tilted down at an angle that made it hard to see much of anything but the occasional bird (probably by those same birds). The Heavy tended to just sit and read, and was pretty much silent most of the time otherwise. The Scout tended to leave the base pretty often. And the Sniper didn’t even live on base, he had a van outside that he could only occasionally see movement in when he squinted at the far edge of the camera leading outside. But even then, Heavy and Sniper mostly just seemed quiet, and Medic just seemed busy, and the Scout just seemed like a little bit of a dickhead.

But then one day when Jeremy was at breakfast the Heavy caught him leaning to try to get a look at the cover of the book he was reading, and he blurted that he was just wondering what book was so great that he’d stay up until like four in the morning reading, and then the entire team was gawking at him and asking questions and insisting that it was insane that there was someone actually watching all those cameras, and he shrugged and said there was always supposed to be someone watching the tapes back it was just usually some office worker type a hundred miles away. And they seemed almost... upset with him. And maybe that was fair, it wasn’t like he ever talked to any of them much, mostly he just spent breakfast and dinner half-asleep and listening to their chatter. And Demoman admitted that he’d honestly assumed that Jeremy slept his entire shift, he just always looked so tired at breakfast. There was almost this discomfort. This distrust.

And so, now that the jig was up, he made it a point to say some things to certain members of the team. To tell the Medic that his camera was tilted down so that he couldn’t see most of the room, and to very pointedly say that it was weird how that happened and that he didn’t know why they set it up like that in the first place, but it was really none of his business. Made it a point to warn the Engineer in the morning that the previous night, Soldier had been doing something in the fridge for a while, and to maybe check the labels before he made breakfast. Made it a point to tell the Demoman that the camera in his workshop was right in plain sight, and that if he moved one of his blackboards an inch or two to the left, it would obscure the room a pretty hefty amount. Made it a point to tell the Sniper that the camera on the rooftop seemed to be glitching out, and it’d just sort of lost the tapes of the previous two nights, and that it was really unfortunate since for all he knew there might have been someone ignoring the signs about there being no personnel allowed up there.

In return, he found that Pyro would sometimes make little sparkly notes with smiley faces on them and stick them to the door to the security room. That Sniper started tipping his hat at the camera above the door into the base from the garage. That on occasional drinking nights, the team would suddenly turn and start waving at the camera, laughing the whole way. On one night in particular he could hear through the low-quality and tinny speakers that they were trying to cajole him into leaving the security room for a while to join them for cards, and god, but he wanted to.

And he noticed more things. Soldier walking with a slight limp some days when rocket jumps had rough landings. Being able to count the doves in the infirmary and even tell them apart to some extent through blurry close-ups. The Engineer making it a point to sweep really regularly regardless of what project he was working on.

And then he noticed a weird thing.

It took him a long time to get used to the patterns of hallways, the cameras not really lined up linearly after a while, too many branching paths. He learned to follow progress, to flick from one camera to the next as someone walked around corners. And for a while he thought maybe he wasn’t very good at it.

Until he realized two things. First of all, that in a hallway where he knew there were five doors, he could only see four—apparently the door to Pyro’s room was just barely out of sight of the camera. He only figured it out because one day it swung open wide enough to almost bang against the wall.

And then, when he realized there was somehow that massive blindspot, that there was a corner with a blindspot too. One where that Scout kept disappearing.

He watched a few more times to make sure, and yep. He’d see the Engineer walking around the corner, flick to the next screen, and there he was, continuing down the hallway. And then later that same day, the Scout, walking, and flick to the next camera, and he wasn’t there.

One of the worse parts of the job was that he never got to see Dad anymore, never got to just sort of hang out the way they did all the time when he was growing up, and he knew he would miss it but he didn’t know how much. And he found it was even worse when he had something important to say, doubly so when he had something important to say but no idea if it was actually important.

He tried to bring it up casually, in the like ten minutes of time he ever got alone to talk to Dad. Dad was fighting the kettle trying to make some tea and he was trying to stay awake long enough to figure out how he was going to say this.

“Uh,” he said, and Dad looked at him. “So, uh, what’s the read you’re getting on that Scout guy?”

“Lazy,” Dad shrugged, looked back at the kettle. “Arrogant. He seems to care very little about doing his job correctly and has horrible communication on the field.”

“Right, right,” he nodded, fought a yawn down. “Uh. So like, kind of a dickhead.”

“Indeed,” Dad said, nodding vaguely.

“So uhhh... not the best.”

“Where are you going with this?” Dad asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I, I dunno, the guy just likes hanging out in this one blindspot in the cameras, and it’s kinda freaking me out,” Jeremy said, scratching at the back of his neck.

Dad frowned. “Strange. I wasn’t aware that there were any blindspots in the cameras.”

“There’s only a few, and only for pretty small spaces I think? But apparently he just likes hanging out in one of them.” Jeremy scuffed his shoe on the ground, glancing over as voices started echoing down the hall towards them. “Just thought it was weird.”

“I’ll look into it,” Dad muttered, voice quiet, and then raised it again slightly. “I refuse to keep up with sports.”

“C’mon,” Jeremy said, knowing this game well, changing subjects into something more normal as people entered earshot. “I’m not even asking you to keep up with sports, I’m just saying, I’d kill to go to a baseball game right about now.”

“The American Pasttime!” Soldier called from the room over.

“Exactly,” Jeremy agreed, nodding at Soldier as he also entered the kitchen, a half-asleep Demoman in tow.

“Any ghosties or ghoulies on the cameras last night, lad?” Demo had enough energy to ask, blinking blearily at the contents of the fridge.

“Oh, a billion,” Jeremy said.

“Guard!” Soldier barked, the most awake person in the room. “Should these ghost-ghouls appear again, don’t be afraid to point me in their direction! I have significant experience with them already and do not fear the likes of them!”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shrugged.

“You’re a champion, Guard,” Demo said with what was either a really disoriented blink or a wink, slugging him on the shoulder and wandering back out into the common room with the entire carton of milk in his other hand. Jeremy gave him a mock-salute that Soldier copied with absolute conviction. He and Dad shared a glance after the two of them left, and Jeremy was the first one to break, snickering under his breath.

“I’ll look into it,” Dad said, and also left the kitchen, and Jeremy nodded and started trying to remember what else he’d been planning on doing before bed.

-

“So,” Dad said a few days later, materializing next to Jeremy when he was in the middle of his jog and making him almost jump out of his skin, skidding to a stop.

“You’re enjoying that new watch way too much,” Jeremy panted, out of breath and still very much startled.

“Maybe,” Dad said, and he was smiling. “But as I was saying.”

“All you said was ‘so’,” Jeremy pointed out, giving him a look.

“There’s a juvenile joke here about how I’m your father and so of course I say ‘so’, but if you wouldn’t mind it, I did have something important to say, mon lapin,” Dad replied, and Jeremy rolled his eyes hard at the horrible joke and cheesy name, fighting back a smile of his own.

“Go for it,” he said, and took the opportunity to bend and tighten his shoelaces.

“So. Regarding that Scout and his habits. You mentioned he spends time in blind spots of the cameras, oui?” Dad asked.

“Yeah. Keeps, uh, I guess he keeps getting infractions for going off base too much, too. I’ve logged him leaving like three times this week already,” Jeremy nodded.

“Indeed. Well, considering how new we are to the team, I did not want to jump to conclusions, and so contacted Miss Pauling and asked on your behalf for any older records, and I found out something very... intriguing.”

Jeremy looked up at him, blinking. ‘Intriguing’, historically, had always been a very, very bad thing.

“Apparently, it has been two years since they last had a Guard situated on base. The previous one was a much older gentleman, retired from being a full member of the team due to health complications but not entirely ready to part with the company. The previous guard was somewhat strict, and the Scout—the same as we have now—very much disliked the man. He continued acquiring near-constant infractions under the man’s watch for leaving when he was not meant to, so much so that the previous Guard proposed enstating trackers on the team when they went off-base. And before this policy could take hold, the previous Guard left the base one day and did not return, and finally was found dead a state over, one month later.”

Jeremy blinked once, twice. “Holy shit,” he said, and took note of the wary look on his face. “Okay. So we’re thinkin’ the same thing, right?”

“I would assume so. And…” Dad hesitated, moved to fidget with his cufflinks. “And I would not be particularly concerned about this, as I’m confident that you wouldn’t have gotten his attention from what you’ve been up to lately, and therefore wouldn’t be in danger yet should history attempt to repeat itself, but… he’s already taken a disliking to you.”

“What?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“I believe it’s something as simple as some sort of shallow jealousy. Another American on the team, also relatively young, filling the position of someone he disliked previously. He regularly complains about the fact that you don’t need to go do the same job as the rest of us.” Dad shrugged, glanced over at him. “That, combined with the fact that you have somewhat conflicting duties, well, he tends to rather tetchy. He claims that considering he’s meant to be the first line of defense, they shouldn’t also need a guard at night.”

Jeremy had a number of opinions about that, but he stuck to the most relevant ones. “I really don’t like this guy,” he said. “Might be, uh. Worth keeping an eye on.”

“Agreed.” Dad glanced back over his shoulder towards the base, then at his watch. “Enjoy the rest of your run. Don’t forget to eat.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, hit the bricks already, old man,” Jeremy scoffed, waving him off, and Dad rolled his eyes, disappearing again in a cloud of smoke. “You’re gonna be using that thing all the damn time now, aren’t you?”

“Oui,” came a voice from nowhere, and Jeremy huffed a laugh, meandering his way back into the rest of his jog.

-

Jeremy hummed along to the radio, flicking between cameras on autopilot and wondering when exactly to take his lunch break.

He didn’t face the clock or anything, so he wasn’t sure, but he thought he had a pretty solid rhythm at that point. Click, click, click, between the camera to the road, the camera to the main entrance, and the camera in the hall towards the middle of the building, for about one second each. At just about any time after 11 or 11:30, those were the only three in real time that he needed to keep an eye on, mostly for people coming back late from bar hopping or if Miss Pauling was rolling in on a delivery. All the other cameras he could see out of the corner of his eye, and any movement he’d pick up on pretty quick, even if it was usually just the doves fluttering on the camera to the Medbay. After he cycled through those (and there was almost never anything there) he’d cycle back through to the tape he had in, put it on high speed, and watch it for about two or three minutes, get through a chunk of that time. Mostly he’d just be making sure nobody had been in the base while the team was away ni o(which indeed there never was), so there wasn’t much of a reason to take it off high speed, and the second part of the night would be watching the tapes for the time the team was back on base.

Movement on a camera made him click the pause, and he glanced off to the side. One of the doves had shuffled to face the other direction. He rolled his eyes, looking back at the bigger monitor again and pressing play.

The second half of the night was a little more interesting. He just had to look at the tapes for the time the team was there, check for discrepancies that might point to Dad messing with the disguise technology off-the-clock or the enemy Spy having infiltrated. For the most part things were straightforward, but he at least got to see his teammates up to funny things sometimes. Pyro’s antics were usually entertaining. Soldier he only caught some of, on the basis of him often walking off out of range of the cameras when he went on his excursions. Demo was funny sometimes. Honestly, just seeing the Sniper anywhere but as a fuzzy distant shape was interesting.

Movement on a camera. Same dove. He ignored it. Click, click, click, all three cameras clear, back to the fast-forward of the same empty hallway as before.

He really needed to figure something out, for the Scout. Maybe he and Dad were just being paranoid. It would be insane for him to try to outright kill anyone who inconvenienced him, not to mention reckless, and stupid to boot. Acting like that in their line of work would make him a lot of enemies extremely quickly. It would make more sense for the old Guard disappearing to be unrelated, to be honest.

Yeah. Hell, he barely knew the guy, and here he was assuming he’d straight up whacked a guy for getting a little too on his case about something. Maybe they were wrong.

Movement on a camera. He glanced over and froze outright.

It took him five seconds to come to his senses enough to pause the playback on his screen.

Figures. Shapes. Not at the front entrance, in the hallway, there next to the back way, by the garage. At least three, moving carefully, hard to make out in the darkness.

Okay. Okay, don’t panic, focus.

Jeremy ran through a few things in his head. He’d already done a headcount, the only people he wasn’t sure about were the Sniper and the Medic, but he hadn’t seen the Medic in any of the hallways out of the infirmary. Three figures were two too many to be any of the team, and besides that, they didn’t look like the Medic. Too short to be the Sniper, moving differently. Different clothes.

Three people. He hopped up, rushed over to the wall, yanked open the panel he had there. Three buttons, which he needed to hit in order. The first would send an alert to Miss Pauling, the second to whoever was assigned to be on alert that night, the third would set off the alarm.

He hit the first, hit the second, and hesitated on the third.

Okay. Technically if he didn’t hit that third button, he’d be breaking protocol, which was, according to the manual, ‘grounds for termination’. He was pretty sure that meant a long swim with some concrete shoes. And it was apparently recorded every time he hit these buttons, so they could deduct from his pay on false alerts. So they’d know if he didn’t hit this third button. He needed to think fast.

This was a different button than the alert button. The alert was more subtle, set for just one person. The alarm was throughout the entire base, over every loudspeaker. Louder than a fire alarm. If he hit this one, these intruders would hear that there was an alarm going off. Anyone smart would book it, high tail it the hell out of there. But he still didn’t know where they came from.

There hadn’t been movement on any of the screens, and he looked at the camera feed facing the road already, a few times even. He should’ve seen them. And if they found their way in once, they could do it again.

If he didn’t hit the button, on the other hand, whoever was on alert would wake up and wonder why they’d gotten an alert but the alarm wasn’t going off. If they were clever, which they probably were if they’d lasted this long, they’d come to the security room to see what was up and they could work from there.

He closed the panel again and moved to wait.

A minute later, still no movement from the hallway where most of the rooms were. That was fine, they’d just woken up, and probably needed to get dressed and grab their guns.

Another minute later, no movement, which was fair, they just needed a second to get their bearings. The intruders, meanwhile, were just lurking, slowly making their way down the hall.

Another minute later, no movement, and he opened the panel to press the button again before he continued waiting. Maybe they didn’t hear him the first time.

Another minute later and he took to standing next to the panel, mashing the button rapidly, eyes on the screen where the intruders were passing the kitchen, starting to get pretty far into the building.

Another minute later and he stomped his way into his sneakers, grabbing his flashlight and gun and guard cap from where they were hung on the wall. “Fine, I’ll fucking do it myself,” he grumbled, and carefully shouldered open the door, taking one last glance at the camera before he shut the door behind himself.

He kept his footsteps quiet, squinting into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to finish adjusting as he crept towards where he’d last seen the figures. It was near-silent in the base at night except for the distant, quiet hum of generators and occasional shift of plumbing. It was getting more and more familiar, and he found himself able to tune it out somewhat, instead listening intently for footsteps besides his own, making sure to click the safety off his gun while he was still alone and not when he was close to whoever had decided to break in.

Okay. Dad did this all the time. He could handle this.

He slowed as he approached the corner near the kitchen, peering around as carefully as he could, tugging down the brim of his cap to try and hide any potential shine from his eyes. He caught sight of a vague shape standing near the doorway, hesitating before it crept inside, into the common area.

Not ideal, on the basis of that being their goddamn kitchen, but at least there would be cover.

By the time he managed to sneak up to the doorway, he could make out the sound of vague whispering. It was far enough that it gave him the boldness to peer into the room, and just slightly lit by the glow of the clock on the oven he could see two shapes there in the kitchen, the third lingering nearer to him, there by the table.

Jeremy was only just starting to make a plan, relieved to have the jump on them, when there was the distant sound of a generator humming to life, and all the figures stopped, paused for a moment.

“Fucking spooky here,” one whispered, barely audible.

“Calm down,” another whispered. “What, scared of ghosts?”

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, shifted onto the balls of his feet and started creeping a little further into the room. If he could just get all three of them to one side, so he wouldn’t need to pivot so much…

“You don’t know, maybe there’s ghosts here,” the first protested, and swore quietly at what sounded like their winging their elbow against the corner of the tale, and Jeremy tried to stick near the wall, managed to creep half-behind one of the chairs, trying to keep his silhouette indistinct. “These guys kill people.”

“So do we,” the third mumbled, moving out of sight in the kitchen, and Jeremy bit down on a swear, starting to inch behind the couch. “Don’t be a coward. And stop making so much noise.”

“You can’t shoot a ghost,” the first pointed out, moving a bit closer to the kitchen, giving the table a wide berth now. “Or punch it.”

“I can try,” the second said, and stopped at the sound of a rustle.

Jeremy held his breath, weight half-balanced against where he’d tried to step, newspaper trapped beneath his foot.

“That one wasn’t me,” the first whispered. There was another, more significant rustle throughout the room, and Jeremy could see a glint as the intruders drew their weapons.

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, and just barely managed not to swear out loud.

The first one was the closest by, lingering beside the arm of the couch Jeremy was crouched in the shadow of. “Do they have a cat here?” they asked, voice quiet.

The second was approaching into the main room more carefully. From the sound of the footsteps, trying to keep a shoulder closer to the wall, clearly paying more attention to the door. “Are you stupid or something?” was the reply, voice also quiet.

The third didn’t speak, but huffed out a laugh, which was enough to tell Jeremy that he was out of the kitchen.

Jeremy inhaled shakily, exhaled shakily, shifted his grip on his handgun and flashlight, and took a split second to think. Inhaled one more time.

He leapt to his feet, swinging his flashlight like a billy club and clobbering the first figure across the side of the head, sending them tumbling to the ground. From the sound of the impact, a dislocated jaw at the very least. One down.

A shout from the other side of the room, arms moving to try to aim, clearly struggling to see him, but that third figure was in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint light from the oven’s clock, and that was enough to figure out where the head and chest were. He aimed, fired, got what he was pretty sure was the neck considering the brief spray of blood that splattered against the oven, darkening the room completely.

A swear from the second figure, and Jeremy wanted to swear too, because he’d hoped that second figure would be stupid and try and charge him, but now he was ten steps away and didn’t have time to fiddle with and cock the gun again, other hand full with a flashlight and no way to—

Oh, duh.

“Stay where you are,” the second figure ordered, but Jeremy’s eyes were a little better adjusted and besides that, he wasn’t the one talking. He lifted his flashlight and clicked it on.

The second figure cried out, recoiling at the sudden blindingly bright light in what had been near-darkness, and Jeremy had time to finagle his thumb up to cock his gun again, now able to aim with absolute accuracy, this shot connecting with the figure’s head.

He exhaled.

It took Jeremy two minutes to remember to fire a bullet into the chest of the unconscious guy, and another minute for the other mercenaries to start showing up, half-dressed and armed. Dad, presumably to prove a point, showed up pretty close to the middle of the pack almost fully dressed. Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure how long it took before Miss Pauling showed up, but he wasn’t even halfway through their questions by that time.

“Guard, headcount?” she asked before she even bothered saying hello, still wearing her motorcycle helmet and looking more than a little bit miffed.

“Uh,” he said, eyes drawn away from where Medic was assessing the bodies on the kitchen table, “seven present and accounted for. Sniper’s probably out at his van, don’t know about the Scout.”

“Alright. Pyro,” she said, and Pyro stood at attention, bunny slippers squeaking at the movement. “go wake up Sniper and get him in here.”

Pyro nodded, handing their weird unicorn plushie thing to Jeremy as they passed by, giving him a solemn nod before hurrying away.

“Okay. Guard, hit me with a rundown, then,” she said, and shot a glance around the room. “No peanut gallery needed. And Medic, please don’t take them apart too much. I gotta get rid of those later.”

“Uh. Spotted these guys on the cameras, hit the first and second alerts,” Jeremy said.

“And not the third?” she asked pointedly.

“They were, like, right next to the door, and—here’s the thing, Miss P, is I dunno how the hell they got in here,” he said, and there was a general balk from the room. “No, seriously. They didn’t come in on the main road, they were in one of the back hallways by the garage. There’s gotta be a hole in the cameras or something, because I seriously don’t know where they came from. And if they booked it, they’d take whatever vehicle they used to get here, too, and we might not figure it out. Thought I’d just wait for whoever the hell was supposed to be on alert so we could… I dunno, at least see which way they went.”

“Guard,” she admonished, and he shrank a little bit. “That was incredibly reckless. What if nobody had shown up to help you?”

“Uh,” he said, blinked, “but… nobody did show up.”

A pause. She blinked. “What? You’re the one who did that?” she asked, entirely shocked, pointing towards the three bodies on the table.

“Uh, yeah? Isn’t that my job?” he asked carefully, shifting the stuffed animal under his arm.

“No, you’re—you’re just supposed to be the Guard, you’re supposed to watch cameras, not—“ She paused, taking a second to push up her glasses and rub at the bridge of her nose, inhaling, exhaling. “Okay. Points for… going above and beyond, here, but Guard, don’t do that again.”

“Sure thing, Miss P,” he mumbled, tugging on the brim of his guard cap, and sighed to himself as Miss Pauling moved away to try and stop Medic from attempting to covertly steal a few organs from the corpses. Dad clapped him on the shoulder supportively, and that did make him feel a little better. He wasn’t expecting a clap to the other shoulder, and looked up, surprised to see Heavy there, looking just slightly less grim than usual.

“Little Guard man is credit to team,” he said simply, solemnly.

Jeremy straightened up slightly. “Oh. Hey, thanks,” he said. Heavy nodded at him.

“It’s true,” Demo called, and he looked over, got another approving nod. “Really saved the lot of us, lad.”

“I, I mean, hey, it’s… what I’m here for. Or, uh. I thought that was it, anyways,” he shrugged, glancing away. “I mean, yeah, I’m pretty cool, though.”

Dad bumped his arm for the last part, and he snickered. “My question,” Dad continued, doing his best to ignore him, “is primarily regarding who, precisely, was supposed to be present to help Guard with this. Who is meant to be on alert?”

“It’s meant to be Scout, ain’t it?” the Engineer asked from nearby, frowning. A general murmur of agreement. “Could he have slept through it?”

“Heavy doubts this,” Heavy grumbled, looking troubled.

“Why’re we awake?” asked Sniper from the doorway, and various teammates called out a greeting. Sniper seemed half-gone, and completely grumpy, but not as grumpy as Pyro, and not nearly as gone as the man leaning heavily against Pyro’s shoulder.

“Hey,” the Scout managed, grinning, speech garbled, visibly sloppy and unbalanced. “What’s up, guys?”

Groans from parts of the room. “Drinkin’ again, Scout?” the Engineer drawled, visibly irritated.

“That’s my trademark, lad, go on,” Demo laughed, but the enthusiasm wasn’t entirely there.

“Scout,” Miss Pauling said, voice firm in a way that made Jeremy almost flinch in sympathy. “Are you aware that we’ve had a situation here while you’ve been sleeping?”

“Weren’t sleeping,” Sniper murmured, and eyes turned to him. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Came stumbling in ‘round when I was heading in. He was out for the night. Bar, looks like.”

“What?” Jeremy demanded. “Why the fuck didn’t I see him leave on the cameras?”

“Alright,” Miss Pauling said, and Jeremy looked at her. Her expression was hard to read. “It’s possible he went through the back tunnel.”

“Back tunnel?” Jeremy asked, and glanced around. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard of it.

“For emergencies only. Scout’s the only one who I’ve given a key card to. I have one too. It’s supposed to be used for transporting especially sensitive information, most of the team isn’t supposed to even know it exists. If there’s a gap in the cameras around the back of the building, he might have been using it to… sneak out to go to town, even though he knows he’s already in hot water for leaving the base so much,” Miss Pauling said, glaring at Scout, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

“Whatever, it’s not a big deal,” he protested, scoffing.

“That tunnel is for emergencies only,” Miss Pauling stressed. “I trusted you with the privilege of knowing about it account of having worked here for so long, and you’re using that privilege and key card to mess around?”

“He was coming back from around the front of the building, at least,” Sniper chimed in, and Pyro nodded. “Not that I’d understand the point of sneaking out if he’s going to just walk back in the front door.”

“Key card?” Medic repeated from near the table, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, it’s, it’s a magnetized card, that can be read by a card reader, used like a key,” Miss Pauling explained, deflating a little bit.

His eyebrows furrowed further. “Would it happen to look anything like this?” he asked, picking up a lanyard from the table and holding it up, showing the room the card clipped onto the end of it.

Two beats of silence. “Spy, would you mind?” Miss Pauling asked politely, nodding towards the Scout, who had gone pale.

“Not at all,” Dad said just as politely, and walked over towards the Scout and Pyro, then circled around behind them, and sank a blade into the Scout’s spine. He promptly crumbled to the floor, dead.

“Well. At least that’s that mystery solved,” Miss Pauling sighed, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose again. “Now I’ve gotta block off time tomorrow to get rid of three bodies, and then hopefully that’s the last we’re gonna hear of this or else the Administrator is gonna kill me.”

“What about the Scout?” Heavy rumbled.

“…Scratch that. Four bodies,” she mumbled, face dropping into her hands. “And then I need to find his replacement. Ugh.”

“Can’t imagine you’d need to go far,” Demo said, and Jeremy looked up, and Demo was very obviously tilting a thumb in his direction.

“He’s proven himself to be better at this job,” Dad agreed, shrugging. “And I would say on a bad day he’s still a better runner than the previous Scout on a good one.”

“He can clearly handle a firearm well,” the Engineer noted, looking over one of the bodies.

“And a blunt object,” Medic chimed, just a bit too pleased. “This jaw is almost completely shattered!”

“Okay, okay, fine, sure,” Miss Pauling waved off, one hand still pressed to her face, clearly overwhelmed and tired. “We’ll get his paperwork in tomorrow. Congratulations, you’re the new Scout, any questions? Can the questions wait until morning? Great, thank you. Good night, everyone. Medic, have the bodies in bags for me at least, okay?”

A distracted thumbs up from Medic, and Miss Pauling was groaning, wandering back out of the room, and most of the team followed, yawning amongst themselves. Sniper half-attempted to ask again why the hell any of them were awake, but gave up halfway through. Pyro, for one, made sure to at least retrieve the plushie from Scout’s arms before wandering off, giving him an appreciative pat on the shoulder.

“So,” Dad said, and when he looked over, he was smiling. “A promotion, mon lapin. Congratulations, new Scout.”

“Do I gotta wear that stupid outfit he always wears?” Jeremy asked, entirely serious. His reply was a laugh and a pat on the shoulder before he disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Pops, I’m serious. Do I? Dad!?”

-

“—So that’s why I figured, y’know, might as well tell you guys,” Jeremy finished rambling, hands in his pockets, continuing down the hallway. “Because… I dunno. I could tell Miss P, but it’s nice having secret stuff, y’know?”

“You think this is how they actually got in?” Demo asked, looking dubious. “Little blind spot in the cameras?”

“Only a couple feet wide, you said?” Sniper grumbled.

“Sounds possible,” Heavy said hesitantly.

“I dunno. Maybe. But if I tell Miss P about it, they’re gonna fix it,” Jeremy shrugged, turning the corner and stopping. “There. I knew it.”

They stopped with him, following his line of sight. “You’re takin’ the piss, mate,” Sniper deadpanned. “You want to tell me he’d been climbing out a window like a teenager?”

Jeremy shrugged, moving to open the window in question. It swung open easily, just large enough to push through with only a little bit of a problem, barely needing to turn his shoulders. “He’s not much bigger than me, and what the hell else would he be doing here?” he pointed out.

“Heavy cannot fit through that window,” Heavy deadpanned.

“Yeah. Sorry, big guy,” Jeremy apologized, leaning back inside and closing it again. “But hey, mystery solved, right?”

“Well, if I ever need windows to climb out of, now I know just the lad for the job,” Demo said, nudging him. “Thanks, Guard. Or, er, Scout. Och, now that’s going to take getting used to, aye? Might just stick to calling you ‘laddie’, laddie.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he laughed, nudging him right back. And as much as they ribbed him for it, he did see a kind of appreciation there. Just like he’d figured, they seemed to take note of him taking their side and not just Miss Pauling’s.

Now he just needed to switch back over to the day shift.