#for some reason i think it's safe to blame soap

[mvnces]

" can you hear my voice ? " price for decker

The intense ringing of his ears was enough to make him wince. Everything around him muted and muffled for a good couple of moments that it took for the ringing to lessen. It definitely was not gone but Decker could at least process the words being thrown at him now. Give him a couple more minutes and he would genuinely be able to say yes — Only for the fact that all his attention was shifting to the task at hand and Price crouched down next to him.

"Yeah... Yeah. I'm all good." That was debatable but he was still shoving himself up and onto his feet. (And if he immediately felt unsteady on his feet? That was something that he could just brush off). They could deal with any hearing damage or injuries later.

[manmuncher777]

Taken in tension

✧༺ Roommate toji x reader

✧༺ trigger warnings

✧༺ a/n - roommate tonji is my fucking favourite trope ever. Hi, impregnate me sir. Enjoy sexies xx

You didn’t see a lot of Toji.

That was half the reason why this whole roommate situation worked.

You both had your own lives, your own schedules. He was usually out — at the gym, running errands, disappearing for hours without a word — and you were busy enough your own things that you rarely crossed paths except in passing.

When you did, it was… easy. Surprisingly easy.

You were actually greatful you got landed with a roommate like Toji, he was there when you needed him, always fixing whatever you had broken, or helping you with heavy lifting. And you were quite happy to repay him in your own ways. You cooked dinner for the both of you most nights, and on the nights you couldn’t be bothered you would grab takeout.

He wasn’t messy — not enough to piss you off — and when he was, you didn’t mind picking up after him because he always noticed, always threw you a grateful look or a lazy, gruff thanks, sweetheart that made your stomach stupidly flutter.

Besides, he pulled his weight in other ways.

Fixing the broken sink without you having to ask. Carrying all the groceries up in one go without a complaint. Reaching things off the highest shelves, half-laughing when you glared at him for making it look too easy.

You got along well.

It was chill. It was safe.

Still…

Sometimes, you caught yourself noticing things you shouldn’t.

Like the way Toji would drag his shirt off after a run, tossing it over his shoulder, his body glistening faintly with sweat — thick arms flexing, abs hard and cut deep, the waistband of his shorts hanging low enough to reveal the sliver of a v-line that made you bite your lip and look away fast.

Or the way his voice sounded in the mornings — rough and low, rumbling out of his chest when he mumbled a half-asleep ‘mornin’ and shuffled into the kitchen in nothing but sweats.

Or the way he sometimes smelled — fresh soap and something deep, earthy and masculine that clung to the air long after he left the room, leaving you dizzy if you stayed too long.

Not that you thought about it.

Not that you let yourself think about it.

Because this arrangement was comfortable, and you weren’t about to screw it up just because your stupid brain couldn’t help but drool over your hot, sometimes-shirtless, way-too-casual roommate.

No.

You had self-control.

You were fine.

Totally fine.

But you werent always aware that you werent the only one finding this arrangement a little… testing.

I mean you couldn’t always blame him, the apartment wasnt massive, so sometime it was hard for him not to notice you creeping towards your room from the bathroom in only a towel, or strutting past him while he was watching tv, shouting a quick goodbye with your tiny little dress on, something about a girls night. He wasnt listening in that moment.

And it took everything in him not to pocket those little panties of your he finds when sorting the washing, all outs of images flashing into his mind of you wearing nothing else but those little panties, waiting for home to get home.

Of course he did his best to remain respectful, only letting his eyes linger ling enough you wouldn’t notice.

One rule that you both kept in the apartment was no partners are allowed over, one night stands of girlfriends were a strict no no on both sides. You didn’t want to be disturbed by that, and well you were single as fuck so he didnt really have to worry. The walls were thin and the last thing you needed was some girl keeping you up all night.

Only issue for you with the thins walls is that if you ever want some ‘personal time’ you have to wait until you know Toji would be out. You would be mortified if he ever heard you like that, so you keep very discreet. Just you and your little box of toys.

The box of toys that you were currently rummaging through because he had finally left, popping out to grab some cigarette or something, then he’d just hop back on his Xbox or something. You had just got home from work, and needed a moment to destress, he would be 20 minutes, surely thats enough time.

Work clothes off, T-shirt and panties on. Candles lit and you were finally ready for a relaxing evening

Your box of toys that was open, despite you not touching it recently, the box that was left rather visible under your bed when you usually have it tucked away. And the one toy you wanted, that you would be finished fast with, was now missing its batteries. The slip of plastic to place the batteries in was left visibly opened with no batteries in there.

Where the fuck were the batteries?

You knew you had left them in there.

Tucked right inside your little velvet pouch — with your trusty toy buried safely beneath sweaters and old scarves — reserved for nights like tonight.

Nights when the sexual frustration got so bad it made you antsy, desperate for even a tiny bit of release.

Single. Stressed. Stupidly horny.

It wasn’t much to ask, was it?

Apparently, the universe — or more specifically, your goddamn roommate — had other plans.

You searched everywhere, in your desk, in drawers, not a single triple a battery to be found. And on such perfect timing, Toji was back.

Fucking great, looks like you were getting nothing tonight. ON all the days this could have happened.

You stared at the opened box, jaw ticking, the empty slot where the batteries once sat practically mocking you.

There was only one person who could’ve done this.

Your mind finally clicking, you live with one other person, and your certainly didn’t just throw away those batteries

One muscle-headed, thoughtless, lazy bastard who would rather loot your private stash than walk ten feet to the store.

You stormed down the hall, chest tight with irritation.

It was petty — objectively — but you didn’t care.

Because now you were still horny and now also pissed off, which was a dangerous combination.

Without even knocking, you shoved open Toji’s bedroom door.

He barely glanced up from his spot on the bed — legs spread wide, controller in hand, headset slung around his neck as he mashed buttons aggressively.

Casual. Relaxed. Like he hadn’t just committed the ultimate betrayal.

You crossed your arms and glared at him.

He finally looked up, pausing his game.

One dark brow lifted lazily.

“Problem, sweetheart?”

You wanted to punch him.

You also wanted to climb him like a tree. Eyes glancing over him fully now, only just registering the fact he was shirtless, grey sweats hanging slutily low on his hips, enough to make a woman drool.

Neither urge was helpful right now.

“You stole my batteries,” you said flatly.

Toji gave a slow, exaggerated blink.

Then — fucking smirked.

“Needed ’em,” he said, shrugging, like that excused everything. “Controller was dead. Emergency.”

“Emergency?” you hissed, stepping further into the room. “Emergency? I needed them! Toji, you went through my shit! That was private”

His eyes flicked over you — lingering for a second too long on your flushed cheeks, the way your chest was rising and falling a little too fast.

It was obvious, wasn’t it?

What you had been about to do before he ruined it.

Obvious in the way your thighs pressed together, your arms crossed like you were trying to physically contain yourself.

Toji’s smirk widened.

“Ohh,” he drawled, voice low and amused. “That kind of emergency.”

You wanted to die.

You also wanted to hit him.

You also maybe wanted to straddle him and shut him the fuck up.

Instead, you ground out, “I want them back. Now.”

He set the controller down beside him, stretching like he had all the time in the world — the way his muscles flexed beneath the dim light of his room should’ve been illegal — and then patted the space next to him on the bed.

“An emergency?” you scoff, already frustrated beyond belief. “The hell do you need my batteries for? Your fucking remote? Seriously, I’ve been looking for those—”

He interrupts you with a lazy shrug. “Yeah, my controller died.” He repeated casually “You weren’t gonna use ‘em anyway, right?”

You stop mid-sentence, the realization dawning on you, but it doesn’t stop the heat rising in your cheeks. “I—I was going to,” you mumble, fuming. “I was going to use them, but now they’re gone because of you. You went through my stuff, Toji. Personal shit.”

Toji slowly rises from the bed, a calculated glint in his eyes. He’s still half-smirking, clearly enjoying the way your irritation is building. He walks toward you, the tension thickening with every step he takes. His large frame seems to fill the room as he stops just a few inches away, his presence overwhelming.

“You really need to chill, ma,” he says lowly, his voice like honey, but there’s a subtle hint of mockery in it. His hand reaches up, brushing past you as he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Seems to me like you were relying on some pretty weak shit to get off.”

The words hit you like a slap, but it’s his tone—condescending, taunting—that gets to you. Your lips part as you try to retort, but the heat in his gaze leaves you speechless for a moment

“I mean, really,” he continues, stepping in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “That plastic shit really get you off? Don’t you need something a bit more real?”

You grit your teeth, trying to hold your ground, but the tension between you is palpable. “I was fine before you came in and took everything,” you snap, although the desperation you feel is practically dripping from your words.

Toji smirks at your reaction, clearly reveling in the power he has over you. “Yeah? I don’t think so,” he says, leaning in a little closer. “I think you were getting a little too used to that weak little thing. You were probably so frustrated you didn’t know what to do with yourself.”

Your heart races, and you can barely focus on what he’s saying because of the raw, intoxicating way he’s looking at you. You hate how much you want to shove him up against the wall and take control, but you’re pinned under his gaze, unable to move.

Toji’s hand moves down your arm slowly, teasing, not quite touching, just enough to make you tingle with need. His voice lowers even more. “Now, I think I could give you something much more satisfying… if you let me.”

You open your mouth, but words fail you. Instead, you let out a frustrated sigh, your hands trembling as they fall to your sides.

Toji chuckles softly, sensing your growing desperation. “You still upset about the batteries, baby? Or do you need something else?

“Come get ’em,” he said, grin turning absolutely devilish. “Might even help you out, if you ask real nice.”

Your mouth went dry.

Your whole body heated.

Because suddenly you weren’t sure if you were mad anymore — or just aching for something else entirely.

You stayed planted near the door, arms crossed so tight it hurt, glaring daggers at him — but he only lounged back further against the headboard, hands resting behind his head, looking like he didn’t have a goddamn care in the world.

He tilted his head at you, that cocky little smirk pulling at his mouth.

“Poor girl,” he drawled, voice thick and mocking. “So flustered. Bet you were all set up too, huh? Lights off, blanket pulled up real nice… fingers already creeping down your stomach—”

“Shut the fuck up, Toji,” you snapped, face burning.

His eyes glinted — dark and full of something downright wicked.

“Ooh. Touchy,” he teased. “What’s the matter? Mad ’cause you couldn’t get yourself off? Or mad because you haven’t had a proper fuck in too long?”

You hated him.

You hated how well he knew you, how easy you were to read. You hated how he was right.

You hated how good he looked, sprawled out like that — broad shoulders, abs flexing, that slutty v-line, messy dark hair falling into his eyes, those big thighs spread wide like an invitation.

He smelled like bodywash and something sharp and masculine underneath, and it was doing terrible, terrible things to your self-control.

Your nails dug into your arms.

“I needed the fucking batteries,” you bit out. “Not some — some asshole with no respect for personal property.”

Toji chuckled — actually laughed at you — low and rumbly in his chest.

“You’re real cute when you’re mad, y’know that?”

He shifted slightly — not enough to stand, but enough that the mattress dipped under his weight.

He was closer now, lazy but predatory. Like a tiger deciding whether or not it wanted to play with its food.

“And real fuckin’ cute when you’re needy, too.”

Your heart was beating so loud you could barely hear yourself think.

You needed to leave.

You needed to keep your pride.

You needed to not imagine what it would feel like to march over there and straddle him and grind the attitude out of him.

But then Toji gave you a slow once-over — lingering, heavy, filthy — and your body betrayed you.

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, thighs pressing together instinctively.

He caught it immediately.

“Aw, baby,” he cooed mockingly. “Don’t go shy on me now.”

He patted his thigh, slow and deliberate.

Like he was inviting a fucking pet into his lap.

“C’mere. If you ask real pretty, might even let you put that mouth to good use first.”

You sucked in a shaky breath — the edges of your anger bleeding into raw, desperate want.

“You’re disgusting,” you said — but your voice wobbled. Trembled.

His smirk sharpened.

“You want disgusting, sweetheart?”

He leaned forward, voice dropping low, gravelly, dangerous. “I’ll show you disgusting. I’ll have you makin’ sounds you didn’t even know you could make. Have you crying on my cock, beggin’ me not to stop.”

Your knees almost buckled.

Your mind was screaming at you to turn around, to hold onto some shred of dignity — but your body had already decided.

You were burning. Frustrated.

So damn needy it hurt.

And Toji — he was right fucking there.

Arrogant and filthy and perfect.

You licked your dry lips, fists clenching at your sides.

“I’m not begging,” you muttered — trying and failing to sound strong.

Toji’s grin widened into something positively sinful.

“Not yet, you’re not.”

He patted his thigh again — slow, taunting. “Now. Be a good girl and get over here. Before I make you.”

You glared at him for a second longer — daring him to back down — but Toji just smirked, the arrogant bastard, and patted his thigh again.

Fine.

If he wanted to play?

You could play.

Jaw set, you crossed the room in a few stiff steps and planted yourself right on his thigh — hands braced on his shoulders, the heat of his body seeping through the thin fabric of his sweats.

For a moment, you felt smug — victorious even — but then—

Toji’s hands landed on your waist, big and heavy, fingers flexing lightly against your sides.

And he didn’t grab you.

Didn’t drag you down and grind you where you wanted.

No — he just let them sit there.

Warm. Teasing.

Promising.

You tried to shift your hips, chasing friction — and that’s when he bounced his thigh once, slow and deliberate.

The jolt ran through you like a live wire.

You gasped — clutched at his shoulders — and he laughed.

“Ohhhh,” he cooed, voice dripping with mockery. “There she is, theres my needy girl.”

You scowled, but it melted into a breathless sound when he bounced his thigh again, just slightly, making you rub against him.

“Go on, then,” he murmured, voice dropping low and mean. “Use it.

You wanted this so bad, right?

Your cheeks burned.

You couldn’t believe this — couldn’t believe you were actually — actually—

But your clit throbbed insistently between your thighs, the frustration and humiliation and desperation all bleeding together until you were moving — slow little rocks of your hips, dragging yourself along the hard muscle of his thigh.

Toji leaned back against the headboard, arms folding behind his head again like he didn’t have a damn care in the world — like he wasn’t sitting there letting you humiliate yourself on him.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute,” he drawled lazily, watching you.

“Look at you. So desperate you’re ridin’ my fuckin’ thigh like some lil’ bitch in heat.”

You whimpered — hated yourself for it — hated the way it made him chuckle, deep and low in his chest.

His hands slid up — finally — trailing slow and lazy under the hem of your shirt, skimming your waist, teasing along the curve of your tits without really touching where you wanted him to.

You ground down harder, chasing the friction, dizzy with need.

“Toji~” the broken whine leaving your throat, a beg. A need for something more.

“Nuh-uh,” Toji tutted, voice smug. “Not gonna help you, sweetheart. You wanna cum? Gotta work for it.”

He bounced his thigh a little harder — just once — and you cried out, grabbing his shoulders tighter for balance.

“Yeahhh,” he rasped, voice dark and gleeful. “That’s it. Use me, baby. Grind that pretty lil’ pussy on my thigh like you fuckin’ mean it.” You were beyond embarrassed now — little gasps and whines spilling from your lips as you rode him harder, chasing the sharp little sparks of pleasure building in your gut.

“Feelin’ good, huh?” Toji teased, voice thick with amusement. “Bet you’re so fuckin’ wet. Bet I could slide my fingers right in without even tryin’.”The thought made you moan brokenly — hips stuttering — and Toji’s grin widened like he could feel you getting closer.

“Come on,” he coaxed — voice low and rough and cruel. “Cum for me, baby. Show me how pathetic you are. Show me how bad you needed it.” It was too much — the filthy words, the heat of him under you, the cruel bounce of his thigh grinding against your clit just right—

You cried out, breaking apart with a full-body shudder, clutching him desperately as you came — hips jerking against his thigh in messy, helpless little rolls.

Toji laughed — laughed — one hand finally smoothing down your back as you trembled and gasped against him. The feeling soothing you as rode out your high, grounding you to the presence of the man beneath you.

“There she is,” he murmured mockingly, patting your ass like he was proud. “Good girl.”

You were still catching your breath, slumped against him, when you felt it —

the heavy, deliberate grip of Toji’s hands sliding down to your hips. The sensation buzzing against your already prickled skin, waves of pleasure still flowing through you from that much needed orgasm. The tension inside of you now nothing but a distant memory, now replaced with something needier

“Aw, poor thing,” he murmured, voice dark with mock sympathy. “Thought that was enough for you?”

You barely had time to register the teasing before he hauled you up — manhandling you like you weighed nothing — turning you around and bending you over the edge of the bed.

Your hands scrabbled for purchase on the comforter, your mind slow and syrupy with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You felt drunk — high — boneless and pliant under his rough touch.

“Still so fuckin’ needy,” Toji rasped behind you, thumbs hooking into your shorts and yanking them down your thighs in one swift, ruthless motion.

The cool air hit your slick folds and you whimpered — humiliated at how wet you still were, how badly you wanted him. Being so vulnerable in front of him despite moments ago using his thigh to get off.

He leaned over you, big and overwhelming, and you felt the thick press of him, heavy and hot against your bare ass. You swallow thickly, he was bigger than your toys, and you were sure he knew it.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”

You gasped when you felt his fingers between your thighs — thick and calloused, slipping through your slick with an obscene wet sound.

“So fuckin’ wet already,” Toji grunted approvingly.

“Messy little thing. Bet I could slide right in.”

You whined — hips arching back into him without thinking — and Toji just chuckled low in his throat. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, almost fondly.

“I know, baby. I’ll give you what you need.”

Wasting not a second more to give you what you wanted, what he wanted. He slides his joggers just far enough down to free his throbbing cock. His tip a pretty shade of pink, adorned with small pearls of pre.

You felt the blunt, thick head of his cock nudge at your entrance, stretching you wider than any toy — and then he was pushing in, slow and devastating, splitting you open with a low, gravelly groan from his chest.

You gasped, frozen against the bed as you felt him sink into you so sinfully, it was so much better than your toys. His thick cock gliding into your welcoming walls. Mouth hanging open at the feeling of his pressing so deep inside you

“Better than your toys huh?” A chuckle sounds out from behind you and you curse your fucked out brain for speaking out loud. You werent lying however,

You gasped — tried to rock back against him — but Toji grabbed your hips in a bruising grip, holding you still.

“Uh-uh,” he hissed, sinking deeper. “Take it. Let me fuckin’ stretch you out.”

It was too much — the overwhelming stretch, the filthy, sticky heat between your thighs, the way your body just took him greedily, still trembling from your first orgasm.Toji bottomed out with a heavy, satisfied grunt — hips flush against your ass — and for a moment, he just stayed there, savoring the way you clung to him.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice thick and ragged.“You feel so good. Better than I imagined. Fuckin’ made for me, huh?”

Your fucked out brain couldn’t even process what he was saying, imagined? Had he thought about this too?

You nodded helplessly, whining when he gave a shallow thrust — hips grinding into you slow and deep, dragging the thick length of him against your fluttering walls.He fucked you lazily at first — deep, heavy strokes that made you sob into the mattress — placing all of his weight behind his merciless strokes, rocking into you slow and sharp. Relishing in the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him.

He was so deep you were sure you could feel him in your throat, you could feel every ridge, every vein, Like you were moulded to him.

But his patience didn’t last for long

Soon he was pounding into you, rough and relentless, your hips slapping against his with every brutal thrust.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Toji growled, watching the way your body shook under him.“Take it. Take it all.”

You babbled something incoherent — something desperate — but Toji just laughed and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back so he could murmur filth into your ear.

“What’s that, baby?” he teased, voice all syrupy condescension. “Can’t even talk, huh? Fucked you stupid already?”

You whined, blinking up at him, lips parted — brain mushy and overloaded.

“That’s alright,” Toji rasped, fucking you harder, crueler. “You don’t gotta think. Just gotta cum for me.”

And you did — with a wrecked cry, clenching around him so hard he cursed under his breath, hips stuttering as he chased his own release.

You felt it when he came — the hot pulse of it inside you, the low, guttural groan he let out against your shoulder — and then he collapsed over you, still buried deep, his body trembling from the force of it.

For a long moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing — the sticky, filthy aftermath of it hanging heavy in the air.

Finally, Toji nuzzled against your neck, pressing a lazy kiss there, voice rough and low:

“Y’still mad about the batteries, princess?”

[awkward-tension-art]

Clone Force 99 (+ Howzer) S/O Cutting Hair to Escape

Random idea of the boys having an s/o with long hair and needing to cut it to escape. No this isn’t me projecting because I have long hair. Not at all. No projection here.

Tw: Gender neutral (I try to be inclusive of all readers), violence, hair cutting with knife, threats, brief mention of death, all of the boys being sweeties tbh

This isn’t proofread so I die like a man

“Are you willing to listen to my terms now?!” The Twi’lek had her fingers in your hair, pulling tightly. It hurt, badly. And she wasn’t alone. There were a couple of other criminals around. All their own blasters were pointed at either you or the man you loved.

You swallowed, staring directly at your lover. His blaster was steady. He had good aim, but was he confident enough to take the shot with you so close?

You had a knife, but the armor the twi’lek criminal wore was too thick.

But your hair wasn’t. In one swift movement, you slice the strands of hair she had gripped so tightly. Once you had ripped yourself away, taking her off guard, your lover took the shot.

Hunter

Once you’re in his arms safe and the threat has been taken care of, he’s pissed. Not at you, but at the fact that this happened to begin with. His senses should have detected the threat and he should have protected you. Instead, you nearly got hurt because he was distracted.

If you’re super upset about your hair, he’s going to try and be reassuring. You still look amazing to him, but he understands if your hair is important to you for whatever reason. He’ll wipe away any tears and just offer comfort for such a loss. Yea, it grows back sure, but that’s doesn’t mean it’s any less important to you.

Hunter will struggle to look at you for a while. Not because he thinks your impromptu haircut is ugly, he just blames himself for what happened. He feels guilty he let something like this happen and It reminds him that he failed you.

Even though he’s upset with himself that he allowed this to happen, he’s so understanding and comforting to you.

Echo

He’s gonna fret over you and make sure you’re not physically hurt. He’s apologizing for letting this happen and not thinking of something to get you out of the clutches of a criminal. Like Hunter, he feels some guilt over what happened.

Once he knows you’re alright, then he’s gonna be heart broken for you and your hair.

He loves your hair. He loves playing with it. And he knows how it’s important to you. Even if hair grows back, he knows what it’s like to have a part of you taken. So he won’t judge your tears or emotions over having to cut your hair in such a way.

He’ll hold you and comfort you, giving soft reassurances.

Though, once your hair does grow back, he’s gonna suggest maybe tying your hair up to prevent something like this happening again.

Tech

He’s panicking until he knows you’re alright. He checks you over for any wounds and once he sees that you’re not hurt, he’ll hold you close.

He kisses your forehead and doesn’t even comment on your hair. To him, you just did a very clever move to get away from a criminal. It’s a shame about the hair, but you’re alright and that’s what matters.

Tech isn’t unsympathetic, he just won’t fully know you’re upset until you say something. He’ll offer what comfort he can but he might not entirely understand why you’re upset. It’s just hair, and even if he finds your hair beautiful, it’ll grow back.

You’ll probably have to explain why your hair is important and why losing that large amount of it upsets you. Once you explain, he becomes more sympathetic. Later, he’s going to do some research for way to potentially help your hair grow faster.

While your hair is in the process of growing back he also researches ways to take care of it. Like special oils, soaps etc. he’s a sweetie that way.

Wrecker

Might be more emotional than you, to be honest. Like Echo and Hunter, he’s upset you were grabbed by a criminal. But the fact that you had to cut your hair to get free? He’s beyond upset.

He is in despair. Wrecker loves your hair so much. He loves to play with it. Help you style it. He even learned to braid just so he could braid your hair (and Omega’s)

As your hair is growing back, he pretty much showers you in compliments. He knows how much your hair means to you and he’s gonna do his best to make up for what happened.

Even when it’s short he’s still gonna play with it to be honest.

Crosshair

He holds you so so tightly when you’re free. Crosshair will be shaking so badly. His emotions hit him waves. First was fear. Then relief.

Then rage. Absolute rage.

You’re his love. And you were in danger. You were forced to destroy something important to you in order to get free.

He’d feel useless. Like he failed you spectacularly. And now you were forced to cut your hair because he was too slow to react.

His anger over your hair is in connection to how you feel about it to be honest. If you’re emotional over the loss, he’s out for blood against the entire criminal group that did this. But if, say, you’re minimally upset and move on quick, so does he.

You wore it long because you liked it long. So he liked it.

But, bright side, if you end up liking your hair shorter, he likes it too.

It’s your hair. So how you like it, he likes it. He’s a pretty simple guy like that.

Howzer

Surprisingly calm. Once you’re free, he’s holding you in one arm and using the other to shoot down the other criminals. Once they’re down, his focus is on you.

He’ll pet your hair and feel where it was unceremoniously chopped off. After a second he apologizes so softly for being unable to help you.

However, he won’t directly say anything about your hair other than ask how you’re feeling. If you’re upset, he’ll hug you, and reassure you that it’ll grow back. It just takes time.

To him, he honestly prefers shorter hair just on the basis of it being more practical for battle, but if you like your hair long, just like Echo, he suggests tying it up or styling it in a way that’s more battle friendly. He’ll even help you with it.

Bonus:

Omega (platonic obv)

She’s going to cut her hair. She sees her brother’s lover sad over their chopped up hair? Welp, you’re not the only one who had their strands butchered by a knife.

I’d imagine her brother and you return to the Marauder with cut up blonde strands littering the floor and her looking so proud with her….new look.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise Pt. 3 | Soap x Reader

Summary: The boys get called out to a mission after you get injured during a game, and your past finally catches up to you.

Word Count: ~ 4k

Warnings: minor character death, guns, blood, injuries, lil bit of angst, ptsd, panic attacks, episodes, and yeah

A/N: alr I’m kinda making it up as I go, but I feel like I’m slowly getting better at making accented dialogue…hope you enjoy<3 (also thinking of making it gaz x reader x soap, or just johnny?? lmk what u think)

Requests are open!

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The longer they stayed in your home, still keeping eyes out for any of the terrorists in the area, the more they noticed some of your odd quirks.

Simon was the first to notice many of them, due to his years of experience in the military, and all of the skills he’d acquired during that time. He observed every little thing, whether it be on purpose or unconsciously.

Like how you always locked your door after entering or leaving, both locks as well. Not just one. Or the way your windows remained shut and locked, dark curtains pulled over most of them to block out any light or keep someone from looking in.

There was a knife under your pillow, and a small gun in the drawer of your nightstand. Simon would know, he’d searched the entire house when they’d first arrived, not sure if he could trust you or not. You had a gun safe in your room’s closet, and the screws on your room’s hinges were slightly unscrewed, as were every door in the house, so it would creak every so slightly when opened. So you could locate everyone in the house.

It reminded him of his habits a bit too much.

But you also had a kernel of authority to you, despite sometimes mumbling instead of speaking clearly, or the tiniest of nervous ticks he could notice, like how your lips would twitch left when unsure or insecure. Despite your stone-faced look now, you still had a few of the same tells that the little girl he’d known all those years ago did.

He only wondered what had happened to that little girl.

But he knew she’d grown up. And what he saw in you now wasn’t what he recalled from the girl he’d threatened in the past, the girl he’d intimidated and scared into staying away. Because now, you didn’t seem afraid of him at all. Not afraid of his comrades, either.

You were different in more than a few ways, now. He knew foster care had been rough on you, with god knows how many families taking you in only for money or being abusive. He barely knew the general timeline of how long you’d been in it. He’d heard tiny bits of it you’d offhandedly mentioned, and you seemed to have found a more permanent home at 12, staying until moving out here, looking for what most teenagers are, a meaning and some freedom.

But he hadn’t known just how rough it had been.

You’d gotten home from work looking beat one night, wearing some jeans, a uniform shirt, a belt, and per usual a holster for your gun. You always insisted on carrying it, and he didn’t blame you. Bad things happened to girls who lived alone here.

You didn’t even take any time to eat or change before walking into your room and collapsing into bed, asleep in a second. Work always seemed to tire you out, for whatever reason, but maybe they had you doing all kinds of shit he didn’t know waitresses did. Who was he to assume?

“She should eat dinner, at least.” Price said, watching from the couch as Johnny pouted slightly. He’d cooked a meal, especially for you, albeit Gaz had done most of the work and helped him out, basically making the entire dish, poor Soap had been waiting all day to try it.

“I can go get her?”

Kyle suggested, and Simon’s deep rumbling voice spoke up next, glancing over to your closed door, a neat “Do not enter.” sign on the front.

“She don’t like when people go in ‘er room.”

“Well, she’s breakin’ poor Soap’s heart.”

“She’s yer sister, why don’t you go get the lass.”

“She’d beat his ass, that’s why.”

Simon gave an exasperated sigh, getting up from where he’d been sitting next to Price, watching a soccer game. He approached your door, slowly opening it as it creaked. The lights were off, the room completely dark as the windows were also covered by the thick curtains you kept.

You’d made it clear that no one was allowed in your room before, but it looked normal to him. The walls were a shade of your favorite color, or what he assumed was, fairy lights with clips on them holding pictures of you and friends, and even a picture from years ago of the family, hanging from wall to wall. There was a desk at the front, papers thrown about and some neatly arranged. The clothes basket smelled vaguely of an irony tang he didn’t bother to investigate at the time.

A mirror hung on the other end of the door.

Walking quietly up to you, he watched you for a moment. Your body was deathly still, breathing quietly but a bit shaky. He could see your eyes moving beneath your eyelids, the movements erratic and frantic.

Despite himself, Simon found himself intrigued by the papers on your desk. Why had you bothered to keep them out of your room? What were you hiding? His military career kept him on his toes at all times and kept him suspicious of everyone.

After all, it was the people you trusted that could hurt you the most.

Walking silently over to your desk, he began going through papers. Gaz and Soap, now both watching through the doorway, made little hushed whispers of “Wha’ are you doing??” and “Jus’ wake ‘er up-“ that he ignored. The papers were all basic, nothing interesting.

Essays, research papers, lots of notes. But just when he thought he wouldn’t find anything, he slid open one drawer as it creaked slightly as well, finding files in it. Paper, Manila folders that were thick with information that he found himself curious about. However, just when he reached for the first one, he heard Johnny.

“Behind ye, Lt-“

The cold metal of a gun against the side of his head became more than apparent as someone kicked the backs of his knees in. A gun to his head, on his knees, with Gaz and Soap now in the room, hands up, carefully trying to approach him.

“Easy, lass. We ain’t gonna hurt ya..”

Johnny tried, and that was when Simon realized it wasn’t some enemy terrorist who had gotten in who was holding him at gunpoint, no, it was you. He hadn’t even heard you approach. Hadn’t heard you get out of bed or move at all.

But he did hear the hammer of the gun click back.

The first thought he had was that he was being betrayed. Double-crossed. Either that or you were having some sort of episode. Price approached the door, watching you like a wounded animal. Unlike Simon, he could see the way your eyes weren’t there, that you were somewhere else, in an entirely different world, doing what you thought was right.

Price slowly approached, bolder than both of the Sergeants, but with a practiced precision. He’d done this before. They could tell.

“Can you tell me who you’re pointin’ a gun at?”

He asked, voice unwavering and not full of pity, but instead understanding. He watched your eyes slowly trail from the gun to Simon, now completely still, and held a hand for Gaz and Soap to stay where they were. He could tell when the realization slowly began dawning on you, that you weren’t in danger, and that this was Simon.

A tiny click, the safety being switched on, before you took the gun from Simon’s head and set it on the floor, kicking it away from you to Price. Usually, you wouldn’t sleep with a gun on your person for this reason. By the time you would open the nightstand to grab it, you’d usually have already snapped out of it.

Sighing deeply, you slumped on the floor beside Simon as he slowly relaxed, and you curled up into a ball. You didn’t say anything, and neither did they. Price took the gun, standing and walking out of the room, giving a nod to Gaz and jerking his head to Soap as the Captain and Johnny left the room.

Kyle remained nearby, just in case, but didn’t say anything.

“Didn’ know you had it in ya to hold a gun to my head,” Simon said, trying for a bit of humor to make you laugh, or even hear a snort in reply, or even a snarky comment about how stupid he was. When you didn’t do anything, he silently sighed.

“How often do you have ‘em?”

“Every night.”

He made a small grunt at that. He could understand nightmares a bit too well, considering the demons of his own he had. He put an arm slowly around you, and when you didn’t stiffen, he considered it okay as he slowly stood, picking you up. However, as soon as he picked you up, you mumbled something under your breath and squirmed free, standing on your own.

“Let’s get ya some fresh air.”

He said, leading you out of the room. He took one last glance at the open file drawer and decided that you had your secrets, and he had his, and it could stay like that until either of you was ready to change it.

~

Nothing had changed since that night, other than one thing.

No one tried to wake you up again.

However, you remained as sassy and slightly stoic as usual, still caring for them, and now savoring every one of Johnny’s dinners to make up for the one you’d missed that night.

When they showed up covered in blood, sweat, and tears, you would take it in stride, patching them up and grumbling about buying more medical supplies, washing their clothes, and buying razors for them because, “A beard does not suit any of you but Price.” You’d even bought food they liked, albeit making them cough up some money for it, because of the job you had at some little restaurant they’d never heard of before as a waitress. You only really worked the job on some weekends, when you weren’t on a big absence for traveling during volleyball season, or at camps.

Your manager-landlord was surprisingly lenient about it, Simon thought. But considering all the weapons you had, he wouldn’t be surprised if a little threat went a long way.

He’d always wondered what you did at those volleyball games, anyway. That was until Price spoke up about it at breakfast one morning when you hadn’t left early for practice, and Laswell had eventually just informed them to lie low until further orders came.

“You oughtta come out wit’ us, get out the house a lil’.”

Johnny had suggested, and Gaz had given a little affirming nod. Simon remained silent, quietly watching as you shook your head.

“Can’t, got games today.”

You replied without even glancing up at them, eyes on your plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. That was the usual. You always had games, training, work, or school. With a schedule as busy as that, none of them knew how you managed it, but it left little to no time for you to simply relax or hang out with them.

Johnny grumbled about something with his mouth full of eggs when Price spoke up.

“Why don’ we go watch, eh? You been havin’ me help wit’ the plans, might as well.” He suggested before taking a big bite of bacon. You paused at that, glancing up at Price, studying him, before swallowing the food in your mouth.

“I’ll think about it.” Was the only answer they’d gotten at the time, but around thirty minutes before the game, you’d texted Simon the address, which was enough of a sign for him to get the boys and head over to your school, walking in the gym and paying for their entry. Six dollars for an adult, players were free.

To be fair, they tried their hardest to dress in civilian clothes and act normal, but it was hard when their instincts screamed to check every corner, keep eyes on the windows and doors, and scan for possible entries and exits.

You and your team were already practicing by then, setting up a hitting line, one setter in the front middle, two lines of hitters taking turns, and two passers in the back row bumping the ball to the setter, who promptly set it, and the hitter smacked it over.

Many of the girls were tall, and while you weren’t too short, standing at around 5’7 now, you weren’t the tallest either. That might’ve been the reason that you were mainly a back-row passer, also taking into consideration the control you held over your hits and body as well. The other team got full court to practice before the game for 2 minutes, which must’ve been the usual around this area.

“They bette’ win this,” Gaz murmured, seated to the left of Price, who watched as another girl on the team whispered something in your ear that had you biting your lip to hold back a smile. You were close with these people, they could all tell that.

“Our lass’ got it, I’m sure.”

Johnny said, watching the other team practice while Simon did the same. Simon’s attention was then diverted back to you, as any hint of laughter or amusement faded from your expression, into the stone wall he’d come to know. With a notebook in hand, you went over something with the rest of the team as they all huddled, the coach nearby and nodding along with it as they pointed something out with a pencil in hand.

A few adjustments must’ve been made before a game of rock-paper-scissors was played between the two coaches to decide who got first serve. The other team did. Already off to a disadvantage, he thought.

You all took up your positions in the court, Simon not recognizing anyone but you, with your hair, braided tightly back by one of your teammates, and the bright red jersey everyone on your team wore. You were number 14. He vaguely remembered Johnny mentioning something about you wearing a jersey in the number 14.

You were in the top right position, tucking any stray pieces of hair that had gotten loose somehow behind your ears, before all of your team was in position. The serve was hit over by the other team, and a brunette in the back row passed it to the setter, who made the ball go in a perfect arch in your direction. You began the approach of the ball, jumping up, arm held back, and ready to spike it. The blockers for the other team jumped, ready to deflect any ball, but right when you were going to spike it, your left non-hitting hand tipped the ball over the net.

Right between the blockers.

“Cleva girl,” Gaz said with a small smirk, and Soap lowly whistled. You didn’t glance up at them, expression remaining still despite the clever move.

It hit the floor, and a whistle sounded. Your team’s point. A rotation was done, and you were serving. They watched you toss the ball up, approach, jump, and smack it down all in less than 15 seconds before you were back in your spot, ready for the ball to be returned.

“Bloody hell..” Simon said, watching the two teams volley. He didn’t know many of the rules of volleyball, only Price knew most of them because of some of your late-night conversations on strategies to use with your team, but he was pretty damn sure you were doing good.

Your team moved in fluidity with each other, and it made Simon wonder what the hell you’d been putting these girls through in those training sessions, and what your coach had been doing. It reminded him a little of his team, his Task Force. The way you all knew each other, how high a set had to be for one specific person, the way one girl would slightly skew her bumps to the left, and the setter would move accordingly, or how to interweave without bumping into one another.

And the way you held everyone together… reminded him of Price the most.

When someone messed up, you didn’t yell or look disappointed, you simply glanced at them, acknowledged them, and gave a small nod. The same when someone pulled something off well. When you won the first set, you didn’t let your team gloat in the victory for too long.

And when you were losing the second set? Your teammates got a bit skittish, sure, but the way you remained almost totally unaffected kept them together. You were the glue of the team, keeping everyone out of their heads and in the game.

The second set was lost, but the third set remained.

“They play the last one to fifteen’.”

Price informed the boys after they’d sat up a little more, on the edge of their seats, bodies taught with stress. Kyle could’ve sworn Johnny was sweating a bit.

It went over fifteen, as you had to win by two points, and it was currently 15-16. One more point and the opposing team would win. But three more points and your team would.

Price’s phone began ringing.

A harsh serve from the opposite team and the bump was skewed by an anxious redhead in the back row. It went too far to the side, and you were running for it, but it looked too far away.

Two steps away.

Price was talking quietly to whoever was calling, his work voice on. Simon was too focused on you to care about the phone.

You weren’t close enough.

One knee went down closer to the ground, and your remaining foot kicked off the ground as your body dove for it.

A grim tone from the Captain as he nodded to whatever question Gaz had asked, while he ended the call.

Only a foot away.

Your hand flattened against the ground just as the ball bounced off of it, your head smacking hard against the floor.

Price muttered something to Soap, who tried nudging Simon, but didn’t get his attention, his eyes on you.

Your team played the ball off of the save, and the opposing team lost the point. The whistle was blown while the game was 16-16, mainly because you weren’t getting up. Out cold.

Simon shot to his feet, already, heading in your direction. There was red spreading on the floor, and he was back in his family home, looking down at his mother’s crumpled body, flashes of his little nephew’s bloodied corpse, and his brother’s shredded body coming into view.

He wasn’t there fast enough, he couldn’t get to you fast enough. He had failed.

Before he could go down even a single step, Price’s hand came down onto his shoulder firmly, holding him back. Grounding him. As he turned to face the Captain, Price spoke.

“It’s Laswell. Urgent, they need us.” He spoke quietly, and Ghost could only look on as they picked up your unconscious form from the floor, a part of your blond hair dyed red with the liquid oozing from it, and carried you away.

“She’ll be alright, Lt. Let’s go,” Soap said, grabbing Simon’s hand and pulling him along like a lost puppy. Gaz and Price were talking about something in front of them as they walked out.

The moment they got to the car, Price pulled their uniforms out of the trunk.

“Jus’ in case,”

He said, tossing them to each respective man, and Price drove while the rest of them changed in the car. The moment Simon slipped his mask on, he willed himself to forget about anything regarding you.

The job came first.

~

Your head was swimming and fuzzy. Your limbs refused to cooperate properly.

You recognized your bed, the dark curtains on the windows, and the smell of your room, covered in the perfume you always wore. Your vision was blurry, too blurry to simply be from sleeping.

Swallowing, you tried to sit up, only to find your throat dryer than a desert and your limbs shaky and weak. You made a small grunt when you tumbled from the bed to the floor, vision blurring more before going slightly back to normal. As normal as it could be right now.

You heard a small female gasp and your bedroom door opened with a creak. One of your closest friends from the volleyball team, Nalani, walked in, immediately going to your side.

Her brown, bronze skin reminded you of Gaz, and her long, dark intricate braids you’d always been amazed by hung in a ponytail behind her. Sure, you two might’ve fooled around a bit a few months back, but that was behind you. Behind both of you. She was a friend, just a friend, even if friends didn’t usually share beds and know how each other tasted.

But you trusted her more than most, that was for sure.

She’d seen your scars, heard what you could tell her without endangering her life, and she hadn’t backed away. She’d embraced it with you. Even on your worst days.

“You just busted your head open, you need to stay in bed.”

She mumbled, putting you back into the bed after lifting you. She’d changed you into your favorite pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt. It was only when she began going on and on about how stubborn you were, that you noticed a blur of movement in the doorway.

You’d seen Simon’s friends leave earlier. Assumed they’d been on a mission again.

You began pushing against Nalani, and she looked confused.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Your throat was too dry and cracked. You rasped to get something out as a gun poked around the corner. A silencer on it.

“Down, get-“

You tried pushing her down, the other hand reaching for the gun in your nightstand, fingers fumbling to find it. You were too late.

A near silent shot, and there was a hole in the back of her head that you couldn’t see but knew was there. She crumpled to the ground as you tried again to grab your pistol from the nightstand drawer, only to realize that Price had never returned it after that night.

Cursing under your breath, you grabbed the knife from under your pillow, a hunting knife, and threw it, watching as it embedded itself into the man peeking around the corner’s neck.

One down.

More came, though. Too many. Your vision blurred as you heard male voices talking, a shot down by your legs, but not quite hitting.

They were trying to disable you.

Your head was throbbing, adrenaline making you forget grief in the moment. Pain exploded through your veins as you felt a bullet whiz past you, nicking your right arm. Three men stormed the room, clearing it, before one of them came into sight, kneeling to be eye level with you.

“Thought we wouldn’t find you, yes? The Wasp’s Nest is not as secure as you thought. We’ll get our retribution.”

He spoke mockingly to you, before shoving a white bag over your head. Other voices filled the room, quiet, but loud enough for your dwindling consciousness to catch.

“…useful?”

“It’ll work……able to….again.”

“…knock her..”

“Roger that..”

You felt the blunt force of the back of a gun being slammed against your head, and your vision went black.

If you’d told the truth, then maybe none of this wouldn’t have happened.

But in the end.

The job came first.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@kazuyatokue

@kiwibao

@kurokitty6

@sharkluver

@100percentlazybonez

[lxvvie]

y'all, I made the mistake of revealing that I write fanfiction as a hobby, and when asked about the fandoms I write for, I broke it down as I know best: into cliques. I realize I might be shaking the table but it is what it is.

This is what I said for CoD (I've since add some more stuff):

You got the forever war between Gaz Nation and Gaz Deniers. May or may not be rooted in his attractiveness as a person of color, opinions vary (read: it most definitely is). Bonus points if the racism comes out in full force. DOUBLE/TRIPLE those points if it's expressed using butchered ass AAVE. 🥴

You got the Masked Men Lovers Brigade of which König, Ghost, and Keegan are the patron saints and arguably the holy trinity.

You got the Peepaw Price Lovers who absolutely adore his chonky cheeks, peepaw mannerisms, lumberjack body complete with the slutty waist, and relative long-suffering thanks to the shenanigans of the rest of the crew.

You got the Soap Suds who, I think, have found that relative balance between Johnny being a destructive-as-all-hell force to be reckoned with and the quintessential golden retriever boyfriend. His VA doesn't make it any better apparently lmao.

You got the Ghost lovers who've pretty much diversified him so he can run the gamut of Daddy Dom Extraordinaire™, Babygurl™, Sassy Simon™, and the list is endless. What IS consistent is that someone parked a dump truck on that ass and he has some big ole titties. There's also the subset of people who REALLY, REALLY love Ghost but also think his VA is ugly (which he isn't) while simultaneously thinking that he (Ghost) is supposed to be David Gandy levels of immaculate despite being in active combat. Make it make sense.

There's the Gravediggers who, for the most part, acknowledge their love-hate relationship with Graves and I think that is both hilarious and endearing.

You have the Kult of Köthulhu, König's devoted followers who have allowed him to transcend his gremlin nature to become the long-lost progeny of Cthulhu. Move the fuck over, Cthylla. I kid but he, like Ghost, has also been diversified in terms of his portrayal. And no, he's not a part of 141. Some followers of His Gremliness are also embroiled in a forever war with Gaz Nation so please be safe out there, y'all.

You got the Valeria girlies who want her to sit on their faces. I don't blame them. Please do.

You have the Los Vaqueros crew who need more love shown to them and Pony by Ginuwine is their official theme song thanks to Alejandro Thee Stallion. The less said about the butchered Spanish I've read in some fics, the better.

There's also the Farah Fanatics who rightfully adore her and deserve their flowers just like the rest of the cliques.

There's the Keller Kollective who, I think, tends to intersect with the Farah Fanatics. This lot also deserves their flowers because Keller is a sub absolutely underrated as a character. You'd also be forgiven for thinking he and Price are elated.

You also got the Horangi Horde who, just like Gaz Nation, will RISE TF UP. I think. Hopefully. lmao

And then there's the self-righteous crew who, for whatever reason, seem to think they're above it all and love to police writers on what they write and how they write the characters (we're talking in terms of rather innocuous subjects in the grand scheme of things; the sus shit absolutely needs to be and should be called out). Interestingly enough, this group also seems to forget that they're in the same damn boat by being in the fandom, consuming, and writing about the same characters. The ones who have all the energy but none of the courage even if they say or think they do. Bonus points if they also move like fans. Double/Triple those points if they, too, also use butchered-ass AAVE to make their points. 🥴

The girlies who can't separate fiction from reality and insist on harassing the VAs and their significant others and families because how DARE they have a regular degular life outside of *checks notes* their job. Baby, it was never gonna be you. It will never. be. you.

did I get them all? lmao

[finisnihil]

Watching the general populous of Webtoon hate Rashta from The Remarried Empress so violently, to the point of making her ridculing nickname a synonym for The Other Woman archetype, is really exhausting for a number of reasons, with the main one being that there are numerous female main leads of similar stories that fit that characterization of her more.

I love The Remarried Empress but the readers love to blame Rashta for EVERYTHING that happens in it, when at the end of the day, Rashta is just an antagonist. I know! Shocking! Rashta is not the driving force of the story! You know who is? SOVIESHU.

Sovieshu has always been the main villain. He is the one with all the power, he is the one who created a situation that pit these women against each other. Rashta was a slave because her father was a criminal, being Soveishu's mistress was a means of survival. Like, of course she sucks ass at scheming! She never had an education, and Sovieshu stalled on giving her one because he was ATTRACTED TO HER CHILDISH DEMEANOR. Soveishu liked Rashta because she was what Soveishu wanted from Navier and she sucked up to him in the ways he wanted! Because she needed to in order to survive! Her mistake was becoming paranoid, arrogant, and cruel to continuously provoke Navier, but that was also at the urging of another man: Duke Ergi! Because Rashta is uneducated and vulnerable and she thinks he's her only support system! She went through the trouble of ousting Navier at Ergi's suggestion and Soveishu began to just use Rashta as a baby factory, because as Rashta became like Navier to survive the political world and as he realized he lost Navier, he stopped caring about her. He never saw her as a human, he only saw her as a slate to project on the child version of Navier he was still in love with.

Now, i'm not gonna deny the heinous shit Rashta has done nor am I defending it, she is the antagonist, she does do cruel things that can't be excused, and that's factual. But the tragedy of her is that she was set up to fail by every single man in her life. She started seeing the women around her as competition because of those men. She never once had power and her frustration at her powerlessness and her disillusionment is valid. Navier was protected by her status as a noble, but Rashta had nothing and watching her crash and burn is satisfying but also sad. In another comic, she would be the female lead, and she would be safe and happy, she would be loved. To see the fandom boil her down to some man stealing bitch is really sad because it takes all the focus from Sovieshu. Instead of ripping him apart for using a system to abuse the women in his life, everyone rips apart Rashta for lashing out as a victim of that system.

You know who fits this dynamic more though? Diana from For My Derelict Favorite. Diana is a saintess with healing powers who was mistreated for being a commoner and married the Crown Prince. Hestia, the protagonist, targets her for revenge for a numerous amount of reasons, but what makes their conflict interesting is that Hestia is her equal. They were both commoners, they both are beloved by the world's god, they both rose in their station. The difference is that Diana is everything Rastha is percieved as. She still acts like a victim of the class system, despite the fact she's the crown princess and now has power and luxury. She looks down on the other nobles for their spending and ridicule of the lower class, yet doesn't realize she's become just like them. She casts aside Caelus for killing the novel's OG villains to save the empire, but has no problem acting like nothings wrong despite her treatment driving him to try and take his own life. She thinks herself objectively right and special and the minute anyone criticizes her, she turns on them, her husband included. She makes it a goal to steal Caelus from Hestia in order to hurt her and validate her behavior, thinking Caelus still loves her over Hestia. When Hestia makes soap accessible for the common people and makes advancments in changing the nobility's views of the lower class, Diana nitpicks her for it, because she can't stand to see Hestia take the limelight. She uses her power and privilege to bully and abuse others and then runs crying when she's called out on it.

The difference between these stories is clear. Rashta has no power and isn't the main villain, she doesn't have equal standing as Navier. She does a lot of her actions out of desperation for love and to survive while still being cruel. Diana and Hestia come from equal status; Diana is the one in the most power. She abuses the systems meant to mistreat those like her for her own benefit and nothing more. Helios is the antagonist while Diana is the villain, because it is Diana's actions that push the plot, akin to Soveishu. Helios and Rashta make things difficult, but they're really only along for the ride, and their interference in the plot happens because of the villains their characters serve.

[rindough]

yeah sure!! can i be 💫 anon? if that one's taken 🎲 anon is also fine!

also Salvation Army by Harrison Whitford reminds me of so many characters... specifically tho it makes me think of Acheron having a s/o that she left behind but really it fits with anyone who would reminisce on a lost childhood/past and the people in it (wow that's a lot of the HSR cast huh)

assigneddd!!! ure now the bling bling anon :DD

ngl i also think that this song suits a lot or any character *calls entire hsr cast to go on set* well for me atm, i can envision this song with acheron, let's say you resided in xian zhou luo fu, a chef for a stall that many loved to frequent to.

the rain sometimes poured above your stall's shelter, and accompanied with the chitter chatter of your regulars? it only add more weight to your heavy heart that had to bear the weight of your lover leaving.

no one would want their lover to leave to venture out into the unknown, even if their lover had to, nobody would wish for them to venture into the haze only to never come back. everybody wants them to come home, safe and sound.

but why hasn't she come through the doorstep yet? why isn't there any "babe, i'm home!" in the quiet of your home.

the slit in your heart, it deepens at each creak you caused when your feet lands the old wooden floor, it aches dully in your chest at every window you open, only for cold wind to rush in. it aches at every sunrise and sunset.

it's not like acheron left you for good, but for some reason, this time when she had left to go on a mission. the kiss she places on your forehead was chaste, her mind on edge and her voice perhaps a little too sharp for your everyday conversation.

"i'm leaving now," she looks at you, hands firmly holding your shoulders in place, the morning air filling into your traditional home, the soft rumble of thunder sounding from far away. without warning, you tip toed and place a kiss on her lips, pulling her into a hug afterwards. acheron wraps her arms around you, a hand stroking the crown of your head as if she was trying to soothe you.

she'll be gone for a while, she doesn't want to leave you, but she had to. she need to get that income for the two of you.

but to make this much more easier to overcome, this moment when the two of you part, again... she decides to act a little colder, a little distant but honestly she came to realised later in penacony that it wouldn't make sense... given that you've been dating since a decade ago. she sometimes would face palm herself when she realises how confused you might be after that farewell, she blames herself for getting a little too caught up in those soap operas you two would watch at night.

acheron quietly makes a sharp turn in the alley of golden hour, sounds of puking and laughter not that far behind her. a few more steps and the hotel door was illuminating brightly in front of her. she longs for you, she misses your touch. thankfully it's the final commission for her current journey, time went by so fast, she couldn't count how many days or weeks have gone past. but she was sure it wasn't years away from you, speaking of you... you must've missed her dearly in your house. she enters a room after being redirected by the trailblazer, settling down into the tub. she closes her eyes, hopefully waiting for a different reality to wake her up, a reality that she is familiar with.

darkness washes over her, she could date back to that specific moment when she felt her heart doing summersaults and butterflies creeping up her stomach that she'd mistaken it to be a case of caffeine overload. she remembered the crash that accompanied shortly after you called out to her under the warm light of the lamppost in xian zhou luo fu. that night was a mere reunion for friends who had grown up together, but for some reason, she's here, just to accompany you to attend this meetup, even though she knows nuts about your childhood friends.

you weren't aware of her background back then and she couldn't blame you, she had just arrived to the area, got to know you for the sake of a mission, but somehow, found herself overstaying in the planet. boothill had called her to return for some other 'irrelevant' businesses but she couldn't be bothered. being here, in this bustling town, with you by her side, learning what had made up your childhood, how you do things here in this planet, what the people here enjoy the most... it all reminded her of warmth... like a home... something that she couldn't remember or understand about.

acheron feels as if she could be herself around you, breaking down that cold and mysterious demeanor that she displays on every visit to many different planets. so when you invited her out for this meetup as a plus one, she couldn't deny it. she wants to savor, to capture every single chance to get and stay close to someone she calls 'home'.

so that night, she realises something, but nothing good.

overstaying is one thing, but what if she *had* to leave one day, what if she was forced to leave? that wouldn't appear good to you nor her. who knows she would face a penalty? or what if... the way she's this attached to you, she could get in trouble, you could get in trouble.

so she did what she had to do, pulled you aside and told you that she's leaving tomorrow. and when you called out to her that night, disbelief written all over your face, eyes on the verge of tears at the fact that she'll be leaving not soon but tomorrow? she can't blame you for making her want to lean in, to press her lips against yours under the warm yet quiet night. to make you understand what she thinks of you.

when she opens her eyes once more, body floating in the dream tub, she raises a hand up, admiring the way it glistens under the light behind her.

she was determined to head back to you, in the comfort of your family home, into the warmth of your arms.

--;

©  2024 rindough, do not repost or plagiarize.

[highcaliberstupidity]

CW - Character Injury | Descriptions of Wounds | Minor operation in the middle of no where on said bullet wound | Blood | The usual CoD violence to be expected

So, looking at Soap during 'Alone', i'm fairly certain that the bullet wound in his arm is a through and through.

HOWEVER. It's a good thing I don't care and will bend the narrative to explore little things. So strap in.

I really, really love the idea of Soap fighting his way through Las Almas with a bullet lodged in his arm and a graze on his ribs (someone dug up his Alone model and found he had a wound on his flank). By the time he makes it out, the wounds are throbbing. He is in agony, and he knows infection will set in if he doesn't get them cared for soon. But they have to escape first, so he bites his tongue and sweats through the pain while still shaking with the frigid cold of rain-soaked clothing in a truck with no heater.

Finally, between blood loss, frantic shivering, and general fucking exhaustion, he starts to pass out, and Ghost finds a secluded place to pull off as he realizes just how bad his Sergeant is.

He's surprisingly gentle as he maneuvers him around until he can stand between his legs in the passenger door, stripping his shirt off and slapping his med kit down in his lap. All the while he's cussing him up, down, and sideways for not saying something sooner as he shoves a small, cracked, and ruined piece of leather into his hand.

He takes off his gloves, soaks his hands in alcohol, and gets to work. Soap will blame it on the heat of the moment, but as Ghost works on his flank, he falls into him, pressing his head into his shoulder as he bites down on that piece of leather and tries not to scream aloud, hot tears of shame burning down his cheeks.

He nearly passes out when Ghost has to dig the bullet from the edge of his bicep, fisting his hand into the side of his rain-soaked hoodie.

Soap's too out of it to see Ghost slip the malformed lump of lead into his tac vest when he pulls it out, dripping crimson. Ghost sews him up, shoves meds down his throat, and lets him catch as much rest as possible while he drives, heading for Alejandro's safe house.

--

Ghost forgets about the bullet he kept until they return to England following the shitshow in Chicago.

He finds it on accident when cleaning out his tac vest before sending it off to be properly cleaned up and the armor plate replaced. For a long moment, he contemplates throwing it away, because why should he keep it?

Why did he keep it in the first place?

For some reason, he dumps it out of the pouch and into his hand, noting the dark stains around where it'd settled. He tries not to think about how red Johnny's blood had been on his hands when he'd dug the damn thinged loose.

He takes it back to his room and leaves it in his bedside drawer.

Every once and a while he sees it, remembers it exists, and contemplates throwing it away again. The memories it holds aren't good ones, lumpy metal covered in rusty stains.

But it's a piece of Johnny, in a fucked up and morbid way, and he can't bring himself to get rid of it.

--

It's a long time, before Johhny finds it.

Ghost had forgotten about it again, lost it in the limbo of his thoughts between missions and protecting him.

He asks where something else, and Ghost, not really paying attention, answers on autopilot from where he sits at his desk, filling out paperwork from their last mission.

"Bed side table."

He hears it open, hears some shifting. He'd never really kept that damn thing clean, one of his few bad habits. The sounds stop, and Ghost, pays it no mind for a moment.

But then it drags, and drags.

When he turns around to ask if he'd found it, he sees him cupping his hands, staring down at a small, malformed lump of lead with confusion. He's pretty sure his heart tries to leap from his ribs, climbing halfway up his throat in a matter of moments.

Soap lifts his head, and it must be the expression on Ghost's face that gives him away.

"You kept it...?"

"Honestly, kinda forgot about it."

"But why?" And wasn't that a fucking question? It wasn't big enough to be a paperweight, it was covered in long-dried blood, and useless.

Why had he kept it?

"I, don't know. Just, felt important." They'd been together for years now, he'd figured this wouldn't make so many nerves dance.

"Can't believe you had a piece of me that entire time and I never knew about it." Ghost blinks, remembering when he'd thought of it like that, how he still thought of it. A smile curls across his face under his mask.

"Yeah, suppose I did Sergeant. Suppose I did."

[bluedesertbruja]

speaking of lfmb and what you said about the sexual tension: you are right as always, but it's funny because the love scenes are much more explicit from what i remember bc we got to see both f&l on bed doing the deed and also in the dream world inside a pool lol (tho it was very sweet and not necessarily that passionate whereas in ysblf their times together are described as sweet, but for some reason I pictured it as more passionate? don't mind me maybe i'm way off considering we didn't even see much, i blame armando's subsequent desperation for this tbh) aside from these bits, it is indeed more family friendly. ngl i feel like rewatching but only the pre-aldo episodes hahaha

the second love scene in lfmb is very soap opera esque--a bed, candles, the shot of them with the candles in front of them, the shot of his back and then the discrete shot of angelica vale's chest. it's more skin yes, but there is something so rated G about it. its very sweet. even the shared dream pool sequence is sweet but never passionate or intense. too much passion and sexyness is not allowed in family friendly programming.

where as the second night in ysblf is wrapped around desperation and anguish. they're clothes are on in the scene but theyre both desperate to get them off each other. betty doesnt know whether to tug his shirt fm his pants, take off his tie or grasp him to her. meanwhile armando doesnt think to take her to a bed. he's so afraid of her leaving that he leads her to the couch. he's trying to take off his own tie but can't stop kissing her. its desperate, passionate, intense, clumsy at one point. it's sexy. the shot of her touching his back, even tho fully clothed feels more explicit than the shot of lety touching fernando's naked back.

the second night in lfmb is again, very sweet. (kinda corny). but also feels very controlled. very highly choreographed. very careful in how they presented it. like, bc lety is 'the other woman' but also the protagonist we need to see her have a beautiful and safe experience.

where as in ysblf, its about betty's passion being reciprocated the same way. just bc she's isn't beautiful by society standards doesn't mean she doesn't have desires of her own. and i think that message doesn't come across in the mexican version. it gets ignored or forgotten.

[parageist]

im just gonna answer all 50 things and then anyone who wants to comment on my responses can lol

1. so many honestly. im hyperfixated on rain world rn though so probably al the scavengers, slugcats, and iterators xD

2. lighters are so satisfying to use, and don’t create a bunch of waste. plus matches always make me a bit scared that they’ll break or burn me and they just seem so inconsistent. but when you get a match to light, it’s a whole different magical experience. i feel like some post-apocalyptic bunker-dweller lighting my oil lantern to go scavenge through some abandoned train tunnels for supplies. very fun

3. as long as it isn’t too cold, stormy, or there’s wildfire smoke outside, then yeah. some bugs do manage to get in though :/

4. some sort of undefined ghostly entity or energy force that manifests itself into multiple different beings, explaining why encounters with cryptids are always so inconsistent and all over the place

5. dark brown

6. do what? You’re mother?😈

7. hair ties but sometimes they get tangled and i get freaked out

8. i think there’s like one or two somewhere in the corner or in my closet

9. i hate coffee, it tastes vile. i love hot chocolate though, but normally i just drink a protein shake or some soda each morning to get my energy boost. i should try tea more often though

10. mhm :3

11. i wanna start a dnd group but im so overwhelmed and bad at scheduling things ;-; it’s been way too long since i last played

12. like in terms of the weather? it’s overcast and drizzly, like most days from october-march here in the PNW

13. this morning

14. yes please!! fun fact that smell is called petrichor (meaning “rock blood”) and is caused by an organic compound called geosmin. both of those words are really cool sounding imo. bouta make an oc named Petrichor Geosmin

15. i have created several eldritch homunculi chained up in my basement🙂

16. anyone can drive, but not everyone can do it as unsafe and illegally as i can 😎

17. nearsighted i think? up close things appear normal with or without my glasses, but far away things are significantly blurrier without them

18. color-safe shampoo and conditioner. that’s it. lmao

19. if you wanted that :)

20. SODAAAAA!!!💥💥🔥💯

21. so many trinkets that half of my closet is full of them

22. peculiar

23. as long as i have warm clothing or someone to cuddle with then it’s cool

24. chillin, maybe a bit of weedery. either that or a dramatic anime battle where i keep making jojo references

25. both because i’m Normal (OCD) about how i smell to others!🙂

26. there’s so many it hurts to think

27. 6 ish

28. with a smile for hours at a time. jk lmao. if i’m sick, around sick people, at a medical place, or someone asks me to then sure, but otherwise i don’t like the sensation of masks and they fog up my glasses

29. as warm as possible before i meet my pain threshold

30. im eating my plate of dinner right now and there’s a few mugs

31. so fuckin many but im really into mashup week megamix rn. something about all the synchronized beats and tracks and references make my dissociated mess of a brain reassemble some gears

32. no but i hate the towels that like leave bits of fuzz on your skin. fowl

33. some japanese gardens in the city. the whole atmosphere was ruined by a bunch of lawnmowers and wasp nests though :/

34. revenge a minecraft parody by captainsparklez and tryhardninja. and a bunch of other songs

35. pst. it’s currently 501pm rn

36. one

37. nobody 🥲

38. i only use liquid soap

39. sometimes but i should more given how much i bite my lips. completely unrelated but one time i took a huge chomp out of a stick of deodorant for no discernible reason :3

40. i had a brotein par

41. in a hearse. To its grave.

42. discord

43. good but i’m white so i can’t take much

44. trump? putin? jeff bezos? elon musk? idk even if i did kill one of them, it’s not gonna solve much. the system is rotten to its core, evil figureheads just give us someone to point all the blame to

45. uhhhhh i played rainworld instead of going to school, worked on my halloween costume, then played more rain world, finished saint again and almost cried, then i sorted my stickers and made poor life decisions with my sleep schedule :)

46. christmas vacation i guess? idk they all kinda blend together

47. “just really tired (sob puddle emoji)”

48. fourteen. and no that is not something to brag about. i was and still am a very stupid kid

49. i did it once but idk how

50. yes please!! :33

here’s weirder asks

who is/are your comfort character(s)?

lighter or matches?

do you leave the window open at night?

which cryptyd being do you believe in?

what color are your eyes?

why did you do that?

hair-ties or scrunchies?

how many water bottles are in your room right now?

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

would you slaughter the rich?

favorite extracurricular activity?

what kind of day is it?

when was the last time you ate?

do you love the smell of earth after it rains?

are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

can you drive?

are you farsighted or nearsighted?

what hair products do you use?

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

do you say soda or pop?

something you’ve kept since childhood?

what type of person are you?

how do you feel about chilly weather?

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing?

perfume/body spray or lotion?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times?

about how many hours of sleep did you get?

do you wear a mask?

how do you like your shower water?

is there dishes in your room?

what type of music keeps you grounded?

do you have a favorite towel?

the last adventure you’ve been on?

is there a song you know every word to by heart?

what’s your timezone?

how many times have you changed your url?

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

a soap bar that smells good?

do you use lip balm?

did you have any snacks today?

how do you take your coffee?

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site?

what’s your take on spicy foods?

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

can you remember what happened yesterday?

favorite holiday film?

what was the last message you sent?

when did you first try an alcohol beverage?

can you skip rocks?

can i tag you in random stuff?

[bingoboingobongo]

task force 141 + cuddling

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Warnings: none

A/N: idk if this counts as a holiday hc but idc i wanted to write this. pretend they're wearing christmas pj's idk.

simon "ghost" riley:

alright so when you really get down to it ghost's just a scared guy

i mean not scared in the traditional sense ig but he's pretty paranoid (not that i blame him)

he's definitely the kind of guy that feels pretty vulnerable when he's asleep and because of that (and nightmares) he's never really been a deep sleeper

like he can fall asleep whenever because he's sorta in a state of perpetual tiredness but it's always a super light sleep and he'll wake up at the slightest disturbance (hence the state of perpetual tiredness)

this all culminates into a very specific mindset ghost has when he's sleeping with you

ghost is absolutely petrified of anything happening to you, especially since he can't protect you when he's sleeping, so he's definitely a fan of spooning (with him as the bigger spoon ofc) bc it makes him feel like he's shielding you from harm

he also likes having you so close to him bc one you're nice and warm and two it lets him know your safe

and honestly it's less spooning and more just him trying to cover your entire body with his body

like he will go full on blanket mode

if he could he would just box you in under him and the only reason he doesn't is because he knows he would end up crushing you

he'll hold you really tightly too

like almost squeezing you

and you always think he'll eventually loosen up a little when he falls asleep but he never does

this has two purposes

first is that it keeps you close

and second is that it stops you from moving around excessively

the second one is important especially if you're a chaotic sleeper because he always gets woken up when you move

also he likes having you face him when he sleep so it's sorta like you guys are hugging but sometimes that can get uncomfortable with all the limbs involved

oh yeah he definitely wraps/throws his legs around you in another effort to keep you pinned down

also hot take but he doesn't like being the little spoon

it's too stressful for him because even though he feels protected he feels like you're vulnerable and that's worse

john "soap" mactavish:

alright so starting off soap is a great cuddler

but then as the night progresses... not so much

ik everyone's been saying this but it's because it's the truth

soap is a spreader

no matter what position he starts off in soap will always find a way to spread out

for some reason he also has a tendency to flip over in his sleep a lot

like it always starts out with the him on his back with your head laying on his chest as he rubs circles on your arm and tells you stories about his childhood

and around halfway through the night he might turn over and hug you while he sleeps for a bit

with his arms wrapped around you and your face buried into his chest

but then by the morning

soap is starfished on his belly

one arm is haphazardly thrown across your back/front (depending on how you're sleeping) with one of his legs tangled into yours

lord knows he's drooling too but honestly same

also soap's definitely a blanket stealer but for no reason

like in the middle of the night you'll be waging a war with him for the blanket

just for him to kick it off the bed by morning time

you've tried getting another blanket but it didn't work and he just stole that one too

you're still trying to come up with a better solution

soap also sleeps like but is also weirdly conscious

idk how to phrase it but like it will take everything to wake him up

but also if you even try to sneak the blanket away from him he will know and you will not be able too

also he definitely snores when he sleeps on his stomach sorry

rodolfo "rudy" parra:

ugh rudy my love my precious my darling

rudy lives for cuddles

but he likes to be the cuddled instead of the cuddler

rudy is always down to be the little spoon but honestly that's not really his favorite position

(he almost always has bruises on his side from training so it can be uncomfortable)

instead he likes resting his head on your chest while you sleep

he'll be like half laying on his stomach half laying on you

and he'll tangle his legs into yours and wrap his arm around your stomach

and good god this man will literally spontaneously combust if you play with his hair

pet it, braid it, scratch it

do whatever you want to it he will eat it up

easily the fastest way to get him asleep

he also really loves listening to your heartbeat and syncing his breaths up with yours

it's always so satisfying to hear your heartbeat slow down when you fall asleep

also rudy has like five different blankets on his bed because he's a really cold sleeper

although with you he usually only needs one or maybe two because you're so warm

he's also a surprisingly pretty sleeper

you've been meaning to take a picture but you always forget because for some reason he just has a way of making you sleepy when he lays down on you

he's also a pretty deep sleeper but even then you try not to move because he always looks so happy

sometimes he'll sleep in the crook of your shoulder and then you can turn to face him sometimes

kyle "gaz" garrick:

kyle likes it when you cling onto his side with your arms and legs wrapped around him

he calls you a koala but he will also die if you stop

he just loves seeing you bury your face into his arm

especially with your legs wrapped around his waist

dang he eats it up

sometimes he'll turn to face you so you can cling onto his front

but he is a back sleeper at his core so it works out

he likes to wrap his arms around you and rub circles on your back or play with your hair

and also the smell of your shampoo has pretty much conditioned him to get tired

like there's nothing more relaxing to him than being able to breathe in the scent of your shampoo at night

definitely also whispers random things to you at night

sometimes it's romantic sometimes it's just him going down random tangents until he tires himself out

but it's his favorite part of the day because he gets to have you with him and explore weird thought experiments

sometimes you'll respond but you usually fall asleep pretty quickly he notices

and he definitely has a picture of you wrapped around him as you slept

it's his lock screen on his phone and it always makes him happy

gaz is like a medium deep sleeper

he also somehow stays really still when he sleeps

like he'll go to bed and wake up in the same position

also he always has to keep like one leg out of the blanket or else he gets too hot

john price:

price likes it when you sleep on top of him

like on top on top of him

he wants you to be his personal blanket

he'll cuddle with you this way anywhere too

on the sofa, on the bed, on the floor (?)

(maybe if there's a soft rug or smthing)

he likes to wrap his arms around you and feel you sorta melt into him as you relax

i mentioned smthing in a previous hc about price wanting a weighted heated blanket for christmas

but let's be real

you are the weighted heated blanket

it just makes him feel really secure and protected

and he's holding onto you so he feels like you're safe and protected too

sometimes he wraps a leg around yours too

and yes price is a snorer what can i say

he'll insist he doesn't snore and then let out the most god awful noise you've ever heard

honestly the price girlies are the true heroes for putting up with that

respect.

(i am a price girly too)

alejandro vargas:

alejandro likes the intimacy of cuddling so that's very important

he also likes being the cuddler but he's always down to be the cuddled

he's a fan of the classics like spooning

but usually he prefers a position that's more equal

that's why alejandro loves to fall asleep hugging you with both of you on your sides

maybe your face is buried into his chest and his hand is wrapped around the back of your head

he just likes holding you close to him can you blame him

he definitely plays with your hair too as you sleep

and he loves whispering sweet nothings into your hair as you fall asleep

he's also very physical so he likes to be touching you at all times

generally just a very sweet and considerate lover and cuddler

also he used to be a chronic insomniac before he met you

but feeling how warm you are and hearing you breathe just manages to relax him

so with you he's able to sleep deeply

[totallynotpuri]

List of Oh Hello Songs that make me think of Last Life

Heads up, some Oh Hello Songs have romantic connotations, but when I talk about these songs, it’s all platonic and friendships except maybe Flower Husbands

Theseus: Gives off the general vibes of Last Life and Third Life. The line “Maybe that's what it's all about, We keep fixing what we know is only bound to break, What's worth saving is never worth letting go to waste” makes me think of the strained alliances that Last Life has and how people keep trying to fix alliances after they’ve broken apart because they don’t want to be alone.

Soap: This one specifically for LL Bdubs and Ethos and Post Session 7 Ethos

Rounds: The dead players, specifically Jimmy. “When did I last breathe in? Am I empty again? Oh, that wind that I've been spending, Is a long one, my friend” just reminds me that he’s dead first again and the fact that he ended his video with “I’ll see you on the other side”.

Cold: The line “Well, I'm not quite ready, To turn to bone, To petrify the shred of life, I'm holding onto”, that’s just, Red Lives in general. Not ready to die, grasping onto any shreds of life they can as they try to outrun the inevitable death awaiting them.

Rose: Renchanting, period. “No, love'll get you slaughtered, Like a ram at the altar, What is safe ain't the same as what is good” and “Wars are raising for her, Crusades to adore her, The light of your afterword”. The second line also makes me think of the Fairy Alliance of LL.

Boreas: Just an overall vibe of Last Life, specifically the line “In the end, All I hope for, Is to be a bit of warmth for you, When there's not a lot of warmth left, To go around“

Passerine: “Cause you were the song that I'd always sing, You were the light that, the fire would bring, But I can't shake this feeling that I was only, Pushing the spear into your side again” makes me think Flower Husbands, but “My palms and fingers still reek of gasoline, From throwing fuel to the fire of that Greco-Roman dream” makes me think Desert Duo. Also, I’ve misheard the line “When the cold wind rolls in from the north” as “When he comes with roses from the door, what am I to do?” for the longest time, so another point in the Flower Husbands section.

On the Mountain Tall: This song is so Desert Duo that it physically hurts, please listen to it.

Constellations: Not really a duo or a group or even the series as a whole, but just something that feels like Last Life for some reason.

New River: A general 3rd life Desert Duo focused vibe, specifically the line “And though the eons may pass as slow as the sands of an hourglass, Every grain that we've counted claims that even the mountains can change”

Bitter Waters: Flower Husbands ;-;-;-;-;-;

Caesar: “Crown him and give him a scepter to hold, Sound every horn as the columns extend, Up to the hill where the king will ascend” short song, but this gotta be Ren “Red King” Dog 

This Will End: I can make an entire post about this and how it fits so well with Scar. “No, I am not afraid to die, It's every breath that comes before, Heartache, I've heard, is part of life, And I have broken more and more” is about how he gave away his lives (not afraid to die) and how he’s constantly faced with nothing but loneliness (the heartache part). “I'll give you all I have to spend And you'll give nothing back to me” is about how he gave away all his lives, and how no one returned that loyalty, how he gave all he had to spend and got nothing back.

Like the Dawn: Very much a post session 7 Bdubs and Ethos song. The line “At last, And you will surely be the death of me, But how could I have known?” has me BROKEN. 

Wishing Well: Jimmy as he BOOKED it with Martyn’s life. It doesn’t fit the mood as much, but I can’t imagine anything for the line “I ran like a speeding train, Cut my hair and changed my name, Only had myself to blame, For the company I was keeping” as Jimmy and The Southerners.

In Memoriam: “And by the time I blink, I'll see your wild arms swinging, Just to meet me in the middle of the road, And you'll hold me like you'll never let me go, And beside the salty water, I could hold you close” just any duos lost after their permadeath, the line could fit with so many of them. Spirits reuniting with allies and friends and not letting go in fear of losing them again.

Hello My Old Heart: Duos who had to see their other half die, “Oh, oh, don't, leave me here alone, Don't tell me that we've grown, For having loved a little while, Oh, oh, I don't wanna be alone, I wanna find a home, And I wanna share it with you”. That’s all, the heartbreak is real.

@chaggle listen to these songs, this is a threat <3

[driftvoid]

A heavy sigh came over his lips; spilling out from the depths of his heart and saying so much more than words could ever have done. He was beyond exhausted, but there was no end of the day insight and certainly no end to whatever THIS was. Evelyn’s return. A weird little game she played with all of them, and yet, he couldn’t figure out her motivation, only that he could not believe her reasons. The children. Missing them. MISSING HIM. – It felt like she had seen it on daytime TV and now re-enacted her own soap opera, without anyone else knowing what was going on, ever receiving a script or lines to learn. A part of him wished it was that. If someone were able to give him just the right things to say, then all of this would be over quickly.

He really had to make a call – but who should he call? His mother? His sister? … He was thinking of someone else, but still didn’t know it was the wise choice. Could he put this upon her, when they had just found their own piece of happiness in this world? It felt cruel to taint with the phone call, and perhaps he also couldn’t shake the selfish feeling that he deserved some happiness after this day – after everything that had led up to today…

“It is my mess, Gordy.” Said more out of his thoughts than a real response to his son’s words; it took him a moment to even realise what Gordy had said, and he shook his head gently. “It is my mess,” he repeated slowly, “and I am the one who is going to clean it up. I don’t blame you for anything, you know what. Not for the cup. Nor for losing your temper. Not for leaving your sister with Howie’s family because you were worried. – I just wish you didn’t have to be angry, worried or…” His eyes fell down to the cut on his son’s hand, but the injury sat deeper than just the superficial flesh wound, he was now checking for remaining pieces of ceramic, before he covered it with the dinosaur-print plaster.

He wished his son didn’t have to be this deeply scared and wounded by his mother’s appearance, but, as Ed had suspected, Gordy’s memories still lingered and reminded him, too well, of what had happened years ago. While Evelyn had never shown physical aggression towards either of them, there had still been broken plates and mugs, dinners landing on the floor and neighbours complaining about the yelling. – It had left scars in all their hearts and had convinced Ed, that he could and would never return to Evelyn. His decision still stood clear in the fog of exhaustion clouding the rest of his mind now. His decision, the only anchor he could cling to.

He would not go back to Evelyn. – And neither would the kids.

“ – I know you can’t help worrying, Gordy – I’m afraid that’s something you’ve inherited from me – but I want you to know, that we are safe. All of us. And if you don’t want to see your mother, you will not have to see your mother.” Didn’t know where the certainty in his voice came from now, but he also wouldn’t complain about it; in contrast: he was clinging to it for dear life, because, while knowing he could never convince Gordy, he wanted to at least try to ease the fears and concerns, which surely would keep them both awake tonight.

His thumb gently rubbed over the back of his son’s injured hand, before he let go of it. All done. At least one crisis averted. The only issue he could solve tonight. “ – It would help me, if you call Howie’s parents. I’ll get the vacuum out and then the living room is done with. – However, if you want to help, you can think of something you want to have for dinner, because I am not sending you to bed with an empty stomach, and some food might calm both our nerves.” His voice hadn’t returned to the stern tone; it remained calm, maybe even a little pleading – asking Gordy to PLEASE not disagree now, because he did not want to play the stern father card another time tonight.

Today is going to haunt Gordy for a good while, the trauma of his mother reappearing to rock the boat like a hurricane in the middle of the ocean so suddenly, it felt like he might just drown under the waves she'd caused. Obviously she hadn't missed them that much, because she wasn't here now, waiting for them. Dad hadn't brought her over to Howie's to find them, either, so she can't have been too genuine as she'd pled her case.

The cut on his hand stings, but he's pretty sure that it's not deep enough for anything more than a plaster --- and though he's not as young as Moira, doesn't believe that everything can be fixed with a colourful strip of adhesive bandage, he does feel some small amount of relief at the sight of that package. It's a very dad thing to appear in times like this. And yet... with the relief comes a bigger wave of sadness. He'll never be small enough to believe that parents are god-like figures and that nothing bad could ever happen to anybody ever again. He'll never be as naive and full of wonder as he used to be, before the universe said hey, time to grow up now! and threw a hundred hard lessons his way before he was really ready for them to hit.

He's not half as stoic as his father. Doesn't know if he'll ever be.

He crumbles under the declaration that he'd made the right decision regarding Moira, the absolvation of his perceived crimes less of an consoling absolution and more of a full pardon, uses his free arm to wipe away the reappearance of tears that threaten to spill over again as he offers his father his injured hand. Nothing to apologise for, Ed says --- so why does it feel like there's a list a mile long of things Gordy could have done ( or could be doing ) better? "I want to help clean up," he says, voice wavering a little though he tries so hard to keep it steady, "it's my mess."

Whose stubbornness has he inherited?

It is not your responsibility to look after me. Ed's sterner tone has Gordy's shoulders pulling up to his ears, the perceived scolding making him feel about an inch tall. Family look out for each other, he wants to argue, it's only natural that he's worried about his remaining parent's health! Ultimately, though, he knows they're both worn down to the quick emotionally. "I can't help it," he whispers instead, eyes firmly fixed on where his hand lays in his father's grasp, "I can't- It's all I could think about when I was coming back. I could see it, in my head." It had been terrifying - even the memory of it was enough to make his heart jump uncomfortably. "That's why I left Moira with the Spraggses, just in case..."

She wouldn't have had to have to see anything bad then.

"Yeah... Yeah, I can do that." More people to apologise to, but at least he won't have to look at them while he does.

[thefloorisbalaclava]

hi lovie how r u? I dunno if u r taking requests, but maybe... I was thinking something where Javier starts to get a little bit cold towards y/n cos he saw horrible things that the narcos, pablo sicarios, did to some woman's relative to some other guys, including to Connie's cat and he's scared as hell they do something to y/n but when he realizes she's so sad and down, peña stars to show little acts of love in secrecy, like a note, one flower, a ring, just I don't know some angst and fluffy sorry for this long ass ask. thank you for your good posts ♡

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of violence, flashbacks, trauma, mentions of sex

A/N: My friend and I have been talking about Javi a lot lately so you sent this at the perfect time! Thanks!

[Javier Peña masterlist]

“Are you coming to see me today?” you asked Javier over the phone. He looked around the office then lowered his voice.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He regretted it almost immediately.

“I haven’t seen you in a week, Javi,” you reminded him. It was becoming plainly obvious that he was trying to avoid you or at least distance himself from you. What had you done wrong?

“I’ve been...busy,” he said. It wasn’t exactly a lie but just a few weeks ago, he had made time to see you almost every day.

“Right,” you sighed. You looked at the bags of groceries you bought to make dinner for you and him tonight. “Whatever.”

Javier sighed loudly. “I’ll call you later. I-” You hung up before he could finish whatever it was he was going to say. He slammed the phone down on the receiver and put his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he whispered.

He knew getting involved with you was a bad idea and not because you weren’t good or anything like that. If anything, you were too good. Fucking perfect. You were his safe haven, his softness, his saving grace. And that was the problem. You saved him but what if he couldn’t save you? He had seen what could happen to you. If anyone wanted to hurt him, you’re the first person they would go after and he couldn’t have that. He experienced firsthand with someone he loved and, God, he couldn’t live through that again. So he had to leave you.

Because he loved you.

You stared at him in awe as he stood in front of you and told you this. Then you scoffed and turned away. It was all you could do to stop yourself from slapping him in his stupid, beautiful face.

“To protect me?” you repeated bitterly. “Just say that you don’t wanna be with me and stop using work as an excuse.”

“I’m not here to argue with you,” he said calmly.

“No, you’re only here to break my heart,” you snapped. “Well...you can go.”

“Okay but-”

“No! Just go...please.” You couldn’t look at him mostly because you were so angry but also because you didn’t want him to see the tears in your eyes. “I’m sure there’s a woman out there who will happily welcome you back into her bed.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he said and finally you whipped around to look at him.

“Fuck you, Javier.” You didn’t care if he saw the tears now. “If you’re being cold and indifferent to try and make this easier...fine. It worked. Get out. I never want to see you again.” You stormed away only to grab the pack of cigarettes he left on your table for when he came over. “Don’t forget these.” You threw the pack, hitting him directly in the face.

He scoffed and picked the cigarettes up then turned to the door. He stopped as if he was going to say something but then you heard the door close behind you and he was gone. Only when he was back in his car did he let his emotions show. His eyes filled with tears and he hit the steering wheel over and over again before putting his head against it. He tried lighting a cigarette but his hands shook so badly that it was impossible. Another burst of anger as he threw his lighter somewhere in his car.

He had to do it. Right? He had to. He couldn’t stand having another one of those dreams about finding Helena only for her to change into you when he got close enough.

There were plenty of nights where he would sit outside your place in his car just to make sure you got home okay. He was dreading the day he saw a man following you inside. He also wondered if you got any of the notes and gifts he left for you. This was the safest thing for now. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes when you found another note from Javier slipped under your door, another little gift for you on the table, and a bottle of your favorite wine. The first time it happened you could only laugh to yourself when you remembered that he still had a key to your place.

As always, you threw everything in the garbage.

Except for the notes. For some reason you couldn’t part with them. Maybe because they smelled like him--that faint smell of his soap mixed with the smell of his cigarettes. Maybe because when you read them you did so in his voice. That goddamn voice of his and how it could change so quickly. Sometimes it was sweet and welcoming with just enough rasp to give him that air of that bad boy type. Other times it was low and growly which was usually reserved for when he was inside you, talking dirty to you, calling you a bad girl but how you were so good for taking him so well.

You closed your eyes and bit your lip at the thought.

“Enough,” you said quietly, walking over to grab that unopened bottle of wine from the top of the trash.

Some nights you felt like you were being watched when you walked home from work but not in a threatening way. If Javier was watching you he kept himself hidden well because you could never find his car when you stopped to look for it.

You touched the necklace you wore as you turned the corner to your apartment and Javier watched. It made him sit up a bit when he noticed you were wearing it. He waited until he was sure you were settled down--he knew you had to ear dinner, shower, then watch a little television before you really got ready for bed.

Then he called.

“Hello.” You answered on the third ring like you always did. He didn’t know what to say. Hey, I’m sorry I was an idiot? Hey, I’ve been watching you come home every night like some creep? “Hello?��� He could hear the slight annoyance in your tone.

“I-It’s me. It’s Javi,” he finally said.

“Oh...”

“Don’t hang up!” He added quickly.

“I want my key back,” you said.

“So you’ve been getting them?” he asked.

“Getting what?” You looked down at the necklace then touched it.

“The gifts I’ve been leaving you.” He looked up at your window and could see your silhouette through the curtains.

“I throw them all away,” you lied.

“I don’t blame you.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I miss you.”

You were quiet for a long time--afraid to speak because you knew what would happen if you did. “I miss you too,” you cried, sniffling quietly. Javier’s heart ached. He wanted nothing more than to run up those stairs and into your arms. But as soon as he closed his eyes he could only see you lying there, beaten and bloody, all because he couldn’t leave you alone.

“I’m gonna hold you again one day,” he said. “I promise. We’re both gonna get the fuck outta here...so far away. No one will be able to find us.” His throat tightened as his own tears threatened to spill over. “Look out the window...”

“What?”

“Just look out the window.” He looked up at your window just in time to see you carefully pull the curtains back slightly. “Hey hermosa.”

“Hey handsome,” you said tearfully.

“No llores,” he said although there was a tear rolling down his cheek now. “Please, don’t cry.”

“Promise me you’ll hold me again, you’ll kiss me again, you’ll make love to me again,” you cried.

“I promise. I swear to you.” He looked up and saw that you put your hand against the window so he put his against the car window. “I love you.”

“I love you too...you asshole.” You laughed through your tears and it made him smile.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, not wanting to let you go.

“Goodnight, Javi.” You hung up and walked away from the window. It would hurt too much to watch him drive away.

javi taglist: @allthingsnarcos @josepedropascal  @oof-dindjarin @xjustmenobodyelse @rach7 @limenlimon @windfallss @findhimfives @the-bird-suit @oldstuffnewstuff @hoodedbirdie @fakenoods @nathan-bateman @helga1031 @triggerhappyflygirl @master-obi-wan-kenboneme @ladybeediva @heythere80sbaby @16boyfriends-and-me @laymegentlytorest @jeeperky @dee-rosemary @stanfordscrush @panda-angela @dindjstarin @simsiddy @deserttastesbitter @lightan117 @terrormonster55 @darnitdraco @dindjarinneedsahug @queenbbarnes @hells-bells-x @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @dodgerandevans @slugbuggie @allmahfeels @nemo-my-name-forevermore @marvelousmermaid @queridopascal

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[rowanaelinn]

Fire on Fire - Chapter Seven

chapter six / chapter eight

no one kills me after that, thank you very much <3

btw it’s midnight, i wrote that in two hours and it’s not edited so sorry in advance for that too

Rowan gently knelt down to put Aelin in the shower, her small arms let go of his neck to fall back by his side.

"I'm going to take your shirt off, is that okay?" Rowan asked gently, his voice barely louder than a whisper. She ignored him, her eyes fixed straight ahead with tears still streaming down her cheeks. "Aelin?"

Almost imperceptibly, she nodded. Rowan took the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, she raised her arms to help him but it seemed to take all her strength. She was only in her panties, sitting on the floor with her legs bent in front of her. She put her head on her knees, her arms around her legs as if it was going to protect her, as if she wanted to make herself as small as possible so that she could disappear.

"I'll be back in a second." He told her and went to his room to grab a shirt and a pair of boxers. He didn't know where she kept her clothes and he didn't want to invade her privacy any more than he already was. She hated him so the fact that he was going to see her naked was enough, she didn't need to know that he had gone through her underwear. He also took some water and towels to rapidly clean up the mess in her room.

The two minutes alone she had while Rowan was in his room and hers did nothing to calm her tremors. He took the shower palm and knelt down in front of her, she looked at him and for the first time, Rowan smiled at her. It wasn't a big smile or a pity smile, it was small and full of understanding. I know how that feels.

She didn't say anything but he could have sworn her body relaxed slightly. He turned on the water and adjusted the heat, not too hot but still (too) warm. He had noticed that she liked her shower hot because of the steam that came out of the bathroom every time she came out of the room.

The water splashed on his pants but he didn't care as he began to run the water over her arms and shoulders. She stayed still as she let Rowan take care of her, as she let the man who had been an absolute dick to her see her in her most vulnerable state.

He turned to access her back but what he saw made his heart stop for a second. Her back. That was the moment he realized he had never seen her back, no matter what he wore, it had always been covered and now he understood why.

There were two scars on the length of her spine, one at the top and one at the bottom, the same spine that wasn’t totally straight. Softly, he traced the shape of the first one and her entire body stiffened. “Please, don’t ask. Please,” Her voice was shaking and weak. Her back had been broken, he was sure of that. The scars could only have been caused by surgery. What the hell happened to her?

“I’m going to wash your hair now,” he only said and took all her hair in hand to wet them. They were soft, so soft that he may have spent more time than necessary to get them wet. He took his shampoo, not wanting to waste time looking at which of her bottles was shampoo. Gods, she brought so much product. Rowan only had shower gel and shampoo, thinking that's what everyone else had. Then Aelin Galathynius arrived, bringing shampoos, conditioners, hair care products, castor oil, and a bunch of other stuff he didn't even know the name of.

He ran some lotion through his hands and as gently as possible, he began to massage her head. She leaned her head to his touch and her breathing calmed down. Good.

He frowned as his fingers brushed against a piece of skin that did not feel the same as the others when touched. So that she wouldn't recognize his digging, Rowan looked at her scalp. A large scar was present on the right side of her head, hidden by her hair.

His breath caught, imagining all that could have happened to this woman. Quickly, his eyes searched for scars elsewhere on her body and he found a few on her arms, he couldn't see her legs from her position. The marks were not as large as those on her scalp or back but they were still there.

What the hell.

But she had asked him, begged him, not to say anything about her back so he would apply the same principle to the other scars.

He continued to massage her scalp, longer than necessary but she looked so rested that he didn't care. If it made her feel better, he would wash her hair all night.

After a few minutes, he pulled her hair back a little and gently rinsed her hair full of product. From this angle, he could see her cheeks and he noticed that there were no more tears on them, which was a good sign.

Quickly but still gently, he applied soap to her back and arms, not wanting to touch her where he would have to move her position. She had found a position where she felt safe and he would not take that away from her.

He turned off the water, rising above her and when he looked down, her eyes were already open. He'd looked at them too many times, blamed himself many times for that, but they fascinated him. Today, Rowan noticed that the blue of her eyes looked deeper and seemed to take up more space than usual. The gold was almost impossible to see. He was used to seeing the opposite, the gold grew whenever she was upset, making her eyes look like they were on fire.

He didn't smile, and neither did she. He knew that at the slightest sign of pity he would show, she would break again.

This type of breakdown she had today was not casual and he knew it, she didn't panic about her condition once and that proved Rowan right. She was used to it.

He wondered what her dreams had shown her tonight, what her mind had chosen to torture her with. It was at that moment that he regretted everything, regretted being the worst possible person around her. Not because he thought he had something to do with her condition, that kind of pain was deeper than mean words, but because maybe, if he had been a better person, she would have confided in him.

He had been so focused on pushing her away from his life that he had been blind to the possibility that he could just let her in. He shook his head, he was pushing people away for a reason. If he had any lesser friends, he would be alone now. Fenrys, Lorcan, Vaughan, Connall and now Aedion would never let him leave them, no matter how many times he had tried.

Rowan wondered if Aelin ever had anyone who fought for her the way his friends did. Sure, Dorian, Aedion, and Lysandra were here but did they notice every single thing Rowan noticed about her? Or were they wronged by her smile and the arrogance she used to hide her pain?

“Let’s get up, okay?” He said as he held his hands toward her. She looked at them and seemed to wonder what to do, he let her think, keeping the neutral expression on his face. After a few seconds of thinking, she let go of her legs and put both hands in his.

A surge of electricity passed through his body at that moment and Rowan was sure she felt it too. He used a little strength to make her stand up, her legs still a little weak. He took one of the towels and automatically Aelin raised her arms slightly, letting Rowan wrap it around her. He took another towel and had Aelin turn on herself, slowly, he began to rub her hair to dry it.

He took the opportunity to rub the towel lightly on the back of her neck and shoulders, helping her dry herself. She did nothing, just waited for time to pass, but Rowan saw that her gaze was no longer fixed on the horizon, lost in thought.

No, she was aware of what was going on around her, aware that he was there, and it didn't seem to make her uncomfortable. He left her the time, taking his hairbrush and start to untangle the small nodes that formed in the shower. It should have been more delicate.

He cringed when one of the knots didn't unravel directly, pulling Aelin's head back but she said nothing, letting him do it.

"I brought you something to wear," he said after he was done, she looked at him with a confused look before shaking her head slightly and nodding. Before he could do anything she dropped the towel that wrapped her body to the ground and removed her last piece of underwear. Rowan quickly turned around, giving her some privacy. It's not like there was anything sexual about seeing her this way, there was nothing attractive, he just wanted her to be comfortable.

“You don’t believe me,” her voice was flat, without any emotions in it. He turned his head with a frown to see her with his shirt on. It was huge for her, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the sigh. “For the scholarship.” She specified.

Well, that was random. He didn’t think about the conversation they had in the kitchen last morning at all. But if she was ready to talk, even if it was something as random as that, then he would talk. He shook his head, “I don’t, you’re right.”

“They don’t give scholarships to people like me.” No, they didn’t. “I told everyone I had one, and they believed me.”

“But it’s not true.” He said and she shook her head, confirming what he said. “How do you go to college, then?”

“My professor, Arobynn Hamel, pays for me.” Her voice was smaller than it had ever been. There was something about the way she said his name that bothered Rowan. He knew Arobynn Hamel, everyone did, he had read some of his books, he had even produced a quite good movie a few years ago. He also heard more than once Lysandra and Aelin talk about Professor Hamel.

“Why do you lie?” He asked her without judgment in his voice, only pure curiosity. It was weird for a professor to pay for a student that wasn’t one of his children, but Rowan remembered Aedion talking about Arobynn Hamel and Aelin knowing each other long before college, maybe he was a family friend? “Why lie when someone clearly cares about you enough to pay for your education? Your uncle and cousin are worried sick you’re going to lose that scholarship, you could make them feel better.”

She took a deep breath as if it was hard to speak. He was sure nobody knew what she had just told him, he could be okay with only one secret if she wanted to stop talking now. “Because the furthest they are from Arobynn, the safest they are.”

“What does that mean?” He asked but from the look on her face… She was done talking. She wouldn’t say anything more and it annoyed him, but he could respect that. “Let’s get you to bed,” he said and she nodded.

“Can you stay with me a little?” He knew how god damn hard it was to ask for help, but this little human being in front of him just did, she was strong enough to ask for something he never had the courage to ask in a decade. So he nodded, following her as she slipped in her bed, sitting at the end of it.

She had been honest with him tonight, more honest than she had been with anyone, it was only fair he was honest with her, too. “I had a nightmare,” he started. It was easier to speak without any lights on, even if he could feel her gaze burn his skin. “That’s how I heard you, I was already awake.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, he even wondered if she wasn’t asleep. “What was your nightmare about?”

“You’ve got your secrets, I have mine, princess.” She laughed softly at that and he wanted to get on his knees to thank all the gods for that. It wasn’t a big, strong laugh, but it was one. One he would cherish.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“No,” he said, honestly for the first time in his life. “You?”

“No,” her voice was quiet. “It’s weird. To answer that question truthfully. People don’t usually expect another answer than “yes” when they ask you how you are.”

“You’re right, they don’t.”

“I’m scared, Rowan. And my little trick to contain the fear isn’t working lately.”

“What trick?” He frowned even if she couldn’t see it. He felt her feet close to his leg under the comforter. He stood up, took her feet and the cover, and lifted them. He sat down again and this time Aelin's legs were on him.

“My name is Aelin Galathynius and I will not be afraid,” she whispered. He turned his head toward her, a brow raised and a small smile on his lip.

“So, you say that and it works?”

“I had the same conversation with someone a few years ago,” she laughed, moving to get comfortable and maybe to lean into his touch. “But yeah, it does. Or when it doesn’t I just laugh at myself.”

He just smiled at the dark, “Sleep, Aelin.”

“Can you stay tonight?” She asked. “I don’t want to be alone.”

As he squeezed her ankle he said “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

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

It was still dark when Aelin woke up. The events of the night before came back to her mind with flashes, making her stand up suddenly. Rowan was lying in bed, the dim light of early dawn allowing Aelin to see his sleeping head tilted to the side.

What has she done?

What the hell has she done?

As quietly as possible she got up and grabbed a pair of sweatpants and her phone from the coffee table. She tiptoed out of the room, giving one last look to the man who had taken care of her yesterday after being a total bastard for almost two years. She didn't know what he wanted from her but she had already given and suffered too much. It wouldn't happen again.

She put on her shoes and went outside, starting to run. She listed in her head all the things she had confided in Rowan last night.

Arobynn, the scholarship, Sam's sentence...

You don't have to be alone anymore. What did it mean? She had been alone for years, no matter that she was in a room full of people, she was always alone.

Everything he said to her before last night, all the scornful looks he gave her... Everything she said...

Yesterday he told her he knew how it felt, did she hate him because he was a mirror of herself? Of the part of her that she hated the most?

She didn't care, continuing to run even though she was out of breath until she found herself in front of a familiar front door which she knocked on loudly for several seconds.

She had to run because she didn't know what was waiting for her in her room, didn't know what was going to happen. Yesterday changed things and Aelin hated change and she hated not knowing something.

The door opened and Aelin could see that he was surprised, she smiled at him but it did nothing to ease his confusion. "Aelin? What the hell are you doing here? Did you run? It's seven miles!"

"Can I crash here for a few days?" She asked out of breath. She didn’t know what she would do if he said no but she didn’t have to wonder about that for long.

He didn't hesitate before letting her into his little house. "It's your home too."

“Thank you, uncle Gav.” He smiled at her and kissed the crown of her head before she walked up the stairs to Aedion’s room. The moment her head hit the pillow she was out.

————

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[the141ghost]

Somehow, for some reason, Price wasn’t surprised that Soap had taken his and Simon’s near-death experience as an opportunity to confess his love for Simon. 

It seemed like something he’d do, dramatic enough to be like a scene from one of those cheesy love films, especially with how the pair had been positioned when they found them, reaching out desperately for each other in an attempt to touch, to comfort.

The scenario he wasn’t surprised by, not necessarily, but the content he was. He wanted to remind Soap how strong the word ‘love’ was, especially to someone like Simon, but he had a feeling that Soap had chosen that word carefully, and with a lot of thought and feeling put behind it. He could tell, even without looking into it any further, that Soap meant it.

Price decided that he could see it. Soap acted like he loved Simon, as Simon did him. They were sappy, lovesick fools and they didn’t even seem to realise it wasn’t one-sided.

Price wanted to shake him a little, make him see how stupid he really was being. He also wanted to shake him to see if it would calm down the utterly indecipherable accent that was now spilling out of the lad's mouth. It was getting progressively harder to understand, and he had to admit he had finally begun to struggle with it.

He wouldn’t tell Soap that, though. Not now that he’d finally gotten him talking and addressing several concerns that Price had.

“You did say it, though, yeah? And I bet it felt good to get it out there. So, if he doesn’t remember, you’ll just have to tell ‘im again. Bet it’ll be a lot easier this time, too. Considering, you know, you aren't both being crushed ta death.” 

What had Gaz said? Too soon, mate.

“How about…” Price clicked his tongue lightly, glancing around the room before slapping his hands onto his thighs. “I find a wheelchair, we’ll check with a doctor, knock your painkillers down a bit, and I’ll see about takin’ you to see him. No time like the present for clearing this up, yeah? Might do Simon some good, seein’ that you aren’t dead.”

Gaz had said everything was fine, more or less, but he knew Simon well enough to know that right about now, he’d be having a meltdown over being hurt. He did every time it happened, no matter how small the injury. Price always put it down to him just being a bit of a hypochondriac, which he was, but upon thinking more about it, it was much more likely to be an insecurity. He was always more hesitant than anyone else Price had ever met to take leave, and knowing what he did about Simon, he couldn’t exactly blame him. The military had been his life for as long as he could remember, he probably saw more Ghost in himself than he did Simon. 

It would do him good to find out Soap was still sticking by him, like all of them would, through thick and thin. He would have told Soap as much, though he realised before he even began to open his mouth that the words would fall on deaf, stoned ears. So, he instead waited for an answer, hoping that he’d like the idea and they’d get to it right away.

Because, honestly, Price didn’t know how much more relationship talk he could take.

---

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Simon mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment and willing his head to stop throbbing. Painkillers sounded pretty fucking good right about now, but he wasn’t about to cave. Drugging himself up would just make him let his guard down, unwittingly. Sure, he imagined he was safe enough, but he didn’t even know which hospital they were in right now, let alone if he could defend himself.

So, suffering it was.

For a split second, some of the amusement returned to Simon’s voice. The thought of Price and Soap both insisting that he had company entertained him, though he didn’t know why. There was almost a hint of care about their actions, though he was sure it was more along the lines of damage control, making sure Simon didn’t fuck anything else up while no one was watching him.

And, right on cue, there was the look of Ghost. The dead-eyed, tired, impatient stare that somehow pierced through your soul despite it barely even seeming like he was looking at you. Maybe that was the problem, he wasn’t looking at Gaz right now, he was looking straight through him.

The orders seemed to be what triggered him to haphazardly resurrect those walls he’d broken down, making him completely steel himself back to how he was. He couldn’t let them see him weak.

“No, Sergeant. I think the main reason I’m feeling like shit right now is because this is it for me. You think the military’s gonna ’ave me back after this? After fucking myself up like this?” he asked sharply, pointing at his head. He no longer sounded tentative and worried, no longer the thickness of being close to crying in his tone in spite of his eyes still being glossy with tears. Back to being emotionally dead to the world, how he should be. “They don’t look too kindly on head injuries, you fucking know that. So, by all means, sit there getting tarty and offended that I’m a tad worried and in a bit of a bad fucking mood.

You really fucking think I have other shit going on, Gaz? You think I have a life outside of this job, a family? Because I don’t. This fucking job took all of that from me. I have nothing lined up for after this, so you’ll have to excuse me for being bloody concerned.”

He had to fight himself to remember that it wasn’t Gaz’s fault he was here, it was his own. He only had himself to blame for going into that fucking building, and that had to be the hardest pill to swallow of all of them. Except, maybe, that he’d also gotten Johnny stuck in the hospital.

That one hurt quite a bit.

“So, no. I don’t think that putting the bed back down is gonna fucking help,” he finished, letting out a sharp huff after completely overexerting himself with the rant. He did sound a little calmer now, though, like he’d just needed to get his thoughts off his chest before he could start behaving rationally again.

He could hope that was what was going on, at least, not that he was just giving in completely and preparing to shut down emotionally.

Not with how much he seems to love looking at you.

Johnny didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He was actually, fully realising all at once how all the little things Simon did for him added up. Maybe, just for now, while he lay here staring up at the ceiling of his hospital room and listened to his boss giving him relationship advice, he could believe that these feelings weren’t so one sided. That Simon might actually return them.

If Johnny knew that admitting his feelings would completely ruin things between them, he would have been content to wallow in his unrequited love for the rest of his life, if it meant he still had Simon around. But Price was really making it sound like they might not be unrequited, and Johnny was getting his hopes up. God knows he needed something like that right now, given… well, everything.

Because, what if they were requited? What then? He could stop dancing around his feelings, stop holding back from leaning in when he wanted to, from saying things that begged to be said. It would be so freeing. And to know for certain that Simon felt the same would be better than anything.

Maybe it was worth knowing. Maybe he was right.

“I told ‘im I loved ‘im when we were trapped,” Johnny said, his tone suggesting that he absolutely did not understand the kind of bombshell he’d just dropped out of nowhere on Price, “Dinnae ken if he heard. Mighta passed oot by then.”

His fingers had tightened around Johnny’s. He must have heard.

“Though’ ah were gonnae die, couldnae withoot sayin’ it.”

---

Gaz raised his eyebrows at Ghost at the sudden tone shift. He didn’t know what had brought it on exactly, because as far as he’d been aware things between them had been going as decently as they could right now. They definitely weren’t anymore.

He knew it was probably just Ghost getting defensive because he was stressed and in pain (why he was still sitting with the fucking bed up, Gaz didn’t know, that was just a terrible choice), but Gaz still felt himself getting defensive, too, as he was snapped at.

“Their purpose is quite literally to make your life easier, but whatever you say, LT,” he shot back testily, ignoring the second half of Ghost’s snap.

He watched Ghost pull himself up, and his eyes starting to water. Was that from the pain or something else? His hand was shaking now, too - oh god, was Ghost about to start crying in front of him? That was fine, boys cry too and all that, but this was Ghost so he had zero fucking clue what to do in this situation.

He considered asking Price for help, his grip on his phone momentarily tightening. Then, he switched off the screen and put it back in his pocket, leaving Price with just the good news. That was an awful idea, unless he wanted Price to come running up here and for Soap to start thinking it was because Ghost was dying, or something.

The next time Ghost spoke, his words had lost all their bite. Gaz’s didn’t.

“I’m not leaving,” he said bluntly, ridding himself of any and all pity he might be feeling because knowing Ghost, that would definitely make things worse, “Captain’s orders-” that wasn’t technically true, but he had told Price he’d stay there- “And I promised Soap.”

He felt like a bit of an ass doing it, he had a lot of respect for Ghost and usually would have done as he’d said, but he also didn’t think he should be alone right now. He felt like Ghost would be too stubborn to call in a nurse if he popped a stitch crying, or something like that.

“Also, at least put the fucking bed back down even if you’re gonna be a stubborn asshole and refuse pain meds, because I can guarantee that’s half the reason you’re feeling like shit right now,” Gaz tried.