#honestly this could go for lassie too

[loosethreadsofyoursoul]

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 13)

Goddammit, you never felt this small before. Sure, all hybrids are twice or thrice your size, but why do you feel this way only now that you were standing in front of Johnny's kneeled down form?

He was kneeling down. Kneeling down. And was still bigger than you standing up.

He was large too. All of them were, really. Men as buff as them naturally had large bodies—it was impossible not to notice that their arms were as thick as your torso.

So....

How exactly were you supposed to fight with him?

It's a play fight, just a play fight, but still, you didn't know what to do. This was insane, how could someone like you fight with a werewolf his size...? And he wanted you to "mess him up"??

You should've suggest playing UNO instead, this is torture.

"Mhm.... I-I... dunno what to do...?" You mumble, uncertain. Your eyes flick to his form—the way excitement buzzes through him, his tail wagging fast behind him, ears pressed flat against his head. His toothy smile never wavering.

Big canines too, bigger than Ghost's.

"It's easy, lassie." He cooed, voice more controlled and calmer than what his body language was showing. "Come on, ya trust papa, right? Papa will never hurt ye."

"I don't know how to fight...." You insist, frowning a little in worry, still shuffling quietly in front of him.

“Don’ have tae. Wha’ does a wee pup ken?” He snickers, rolling his eyes as his accent gets stronger out of nowhere. “Ah just like ma kids messin’ me up! Ye can bite, scratch, or anythin’ else, really. Ah can take anythin’, ye wee runt!”

You hesitate, still looking over his form in worry and confusion. You didn't even move from your position, just holding onto your hoodie as you rubbed your socked feet with each other.

Johnny’s excited, competitive demeanor softened a bit as he sized you up, his tail wagging less and his ears perking up again.

“C’mere, puppy, c’mere… pstpst, it’s alrigh’…” He cooed gently, beckoning you closer with a small hand gesture. “Come tae papa, he’ll teach ye everythin’, aye?”

You blushed in embarrassment at his attitude, letting out a quiet sigh as you approached, still clutching the sleeves of your hoodie.

He immediately flashed you a big, toothy grin—sincere, yet still intimidating. His dangerous demeanor remained as scary as ever. Honestly? He looked kinda insane.

And then—

Big hands grabbed you, making you gasp in surprise as he took you down onto the mat. Technically, he just kinda grabbed you and eased you onto your back, but still—you weren’t expecting it! It was fast.

“Down ye go.” He smiled in a terrifying mix of gentleness and smugness. “Now what, wee bonnie baby?” His tone was pure challenge.

You stared up at him with wide eyes, frozen for a few seconds. His big palm rested gently on your chest, fingers spread just enough to frame your neck as he held both your shoulders down with one hand, caging you in. His feral eyes and sharp grin never wavered as he loomed over you, kneeling like a true predator.

You breathed in shakily at the thought, both small hands coming up to grasp his wrist, trying to gently push his hand away. Your legs curling up close to your chest.

“Don’ let him pin ya down.”

Ghost’s voice immediately caught your attention, making you turn your head on the mat to glance at him sideways on the edge of the mat. He stood with his arms crossed and a serious expression on his face, watching closely.

“Aye, runt, why’re ye lettin’ me pin ye down?” Soap teased again, one of his fingers gently rubbing your cheek from where he held you against the mat.

You bit your lip at the provocation, anxiety creeping back in. You pushed with a bit more force, trying to make his hand move, but weakened your grip when he laughed mockingly, leaning his head down dangerously close to yours.

“Look at this… nae claws at all, such cute wee fingers… trimmed nails and all, eh, wee baby? Price was talkin’ ‘bout ye humans… how we’ve gotta keep ye groomed right—short nails on hands an’ feet, brushed wee teeth, and trimmed hair… are all humans frail wee thingies like ye, runt?” He snickered, a broad, teasing smile stretched across his face.

"Big talk for a dirty mutt." Ghost joined in, voice low and raspy as he steaped on the mat, feet covered in black socks.

You immediately tensed up in worry at his tone, eyes widening as your body locked up. It sounded harsh, and for a moment, you genuinely feared they might start arguing right then and there.

But...

Johnny just laughed it off, his smile still wide, his hand still pressing you down against the mat as he kept an eye on Simon entering the mat from his peripheral vision.

“Are ye gonna get in the way, Si?” Soap asked menacingly, tilting his head slightly, baring his teeth at the other man.

“No. I don’t plan on fightin’ ya. I’m here for the kid.” he answered simply, dropping heavily to his knees by your side. "Come on, fledgling. His fingers are wide spread, tuck your hands under them."

You blinked up at him, stunned for a few seconds, before quickly glancing back at Johnny’s hand. Letting go of his wrist, you forced your hands under his fingers, slowly but surely lifting it off your shoulders and chest.

Sure, Johnny wasn’t putting much strength behind it, and he was still cooing at you the whole time, but you managed to take his hand off of you, only for Simon to roughly shove Johnny down onto the mat.

“Hey!” Soap laughed, falling onto his back, his elbows holding his body up.

"Go, up, come on." Simon nudged you, pushing your sitted form in Johnny's direction gently.

You got to your feet, slightly unsteady, feeling the gentle push of his hand that made you tumble on top of Soap, who was just staring at you with a smile.

“Hurt him. Go for his neck.” Ghost instructed, arms crossed as he watched you both.

“Wi’ these wee hands?” Soap cooed mockingly, his hand coming up to gently grab yours and rub with his thumb.

Ghost sighed quietly at your lack of reaction, watching you sit on top of Soap’s waist, your hand held in his, looking uncertain. Truly, zero instincts with this one.

“Gaz was right… it really does feel like when we had only newborns.” Soap laughed quietly, messing slightly with your hand, moving it around. “Ah used tae put them on ma chest for tummy time, too.”

You frowned slightly in confusion at that, head tilting slightly to the side.

"What's that...?"

“Oh, it’s—Ah mean…”

Even though Johnny was still smiling, he frowned a bit too, apparently caught off guard by your question. Or at least, that’s what it looked like. For a moment, it even seemed like pity crossed his face too.

“It’s when ye put babies on a soft surface, belly to the ground, and leave ‘em there. Helps ‘em strengthen their bodies so they can start crawling later on,” Ghost explained calmly, pushing you up slightly higher against Soap. “Now, come on, try to hurt him. He can take it.”

You still hesitated at that, unsure about actually trying to hurt one of your foster parents. Still, you sighed quietly before grabbing the hand that was holding yours and pushing against Johnny's face, hearing him laugh.

"Yeah, that's not going to do much." Ghost commented dryly.

Before you could say anything else, you let out a small, surprised yelp as Soap suddenly switched places with you, grabbing your small body effortlessly and getting on top of you once again, big grin still plastered on his stupid smiling face.

This time, at least, you managed to place your feet against his chest, pushing him slightly away from your body.

"Ya ken, Price's always liked a rough fight," Soap chuckled, a smug smile on his face as his big hand wrapped around your calf. "Me too, o' course, but he's even more violent than me, if ye believe it. Big bastard roughed up everyone as a soldier, an' let all the kids rough him up right back as a parent. He loves it."

"To be fair, most of us do." Ghost nodded from his place on the mat.

"But how does a wee thing like ye plan to do it if ye dinnae even try?"

At that, your leg was quickly pulled back, your body dragged across the mat as you let out a small shriek, only to immediately laugh right after when Soap stopped pulling you by the leg.

Actually, you were so busy giggling in a mix of surprise and excitement that you didn’t notice Johnny and Simon looking at you with surprise and contentment. It took them a bit, but they finally managed to make you actually laugh.

And what a cute laugh you had.

"Guys, come on up, Price still wants to check if her cold's gone away and watch a movie!" Kyle called out from the stairs, smiling gently at the scene.

"Heard that, lass? Hope ye like cartoons, ‘cause we love ‘em!" Johnny smiled excitedly, helping you up onto your little feet.

"I actually developed a liking for them after bein' forced to watch thousands of different ones as our kids grew up," Ghost commented, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Coco's very nice. Would ya like to see it, kid?"

"I'm... not sure...." You mumble, not recognizing the name.

"Yer gonna love it, lassie! Ah guarantee!"

Part 12 /

[itscodpliated]

"Career changing"

Career changing | Part 2 of ??

Part 1 here | Series masterlist

Summary: It should have been simple; bring the omega to her new pack, fill out your mission report and get back on your merry way. But now you’re a member of the 141, have a few hard pills to swallow, a bunch of explaining to do and a lot more to care about…

Warning: None

Note: English is not my first language and I’m writing this in-between taking care of a young child, so I’m sorry if there is mistakes or it isn’t that good.

You could only assumed the large alpha wearing the bucket hat was Price.

"Captain Price, I'm Ser-"

"Alpha! It's so nice to finally meat you."

You mumble the rest of the 'Sergeant' to yourself, frozen there mid salute. Not because Ophelia had interrupted you, that didn't faze you coming from her, not after having been stuck with her two week, but because she sounded so sweet and soft all of a sudden. And, seriously, who referred to people by their designation unsarcastically??

"I suppose you must be Ophelia." Price said, giving her a warm smile and a small nod, his eyes having lost nothing of that feral desire, before turning his attention back towards you. "At ease Sergeant. You two had no major problem getting here, I hope?"

That quickly snapped you out of whatever brain freeze Ophelia sudden niceness had put you in, dropping the salute and standing in a more relaxed position. "No confrontations or inconvenient, sir. I'll make sure to have a complete report on your desk by tomorrow morning before I depart back for the base I'm stationed at."

That's when someone else stepped up. A beta, judging by the scent, with the prettiest of golden skin. Probably Gaz, you figure. You couldn't help but think that the man should have been a model, not a soldier. "Eager to leave already?"

The way you said it, you knew it was meant as a joke, but there was something in his expression that you couldn't place. Disappointment, maybe? Odd, you think. It didn't help either that your instincts seemed to have caught onto something you hadn't, making you feel uneasy.

"I..." You didn't know how to answer that. And thankfully, you didn't have to, because someone else was already speaking.

"Ain't ye scent I'm catching on ye both, ain't it, lassie?" 

You turn to see another beta, one with a mohawk that probably wasn't within regulation and a devilish smile, moving closer to Ophelia. You had to assume it was Soap. He was leaning in rather closely to her, clearly trying to catch more of the scent clinging to her skin.

"No, but please, don't be mad at the Sergeant. She was only doing what she thought was best to protect me." Ophelia said with all her newfound sweetness.

Two faced bitch, you couldn't help but think. But it's not like you were about to say that out loud. No when Ophelia was suddenly vouching for you when faced with the possibility you could have pissed the alphas and betas off by having scented their new omega.

"I apologize, sir. I promise I didn't mean anything by it, I was just trying to make sure no one notice her scent and the fact that she's an unclaimed omega." You try justifying, watching as the beta as he keep taking in big breaths around Ophelia. You can only imagine it was to try and catch a glimpse of her natural scent.

"Not mad. That was clever, actually. Giving her scent blockers while you were trying to lay low amongst civilians would have just made it too obvious that you were hiding something." A deep, forth voice said. That had to be Lieutenant Riley, because, honestly, what alpha could go around with a skull baclava and not be the one they call Ghost?

You didn't know if the shiver running down your spine was caused by the fact that the man had managed to creep up on you or because a deep, instinctual part of you was happy to be praise by the giant alpha. You just really hope none of them had noticed.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." You answered, unable to fully suppress the proud smile that was creeping on your lips.

You could see Ophelia glaring at you from where she had moved behind them, probably pissed she had lost their interest in favor of you. You were standing there awkwardly, not really because of her, but because the four of them seemed to be staring at out with a predatory glim in their eyes, as if waiting for something. The only thing you could think of doing to get out of that embarrassing situation was excuse yourself quickly, mentioning that you should probably go start on that mission report if you wanted it to be finished for tomorrow morning.

You ended up being stuck sleeping in the large dormitory stilled barrack normally reserved for the recruits. Not like you could complain, this wasn't your home base and you couldn't expect the base administrator to have something better set up for you on such a short notice. It just meant your effort to fill out your report had been interrupted ever so often by Privates trying their worst pick up line on you and that you hadn't really caught up on the sleep you were missing. Maybe you should have sleep in the car after all...

By the time morning came you were exhausted but with had full report in hand. In all of your tiredness, you had almost collided with someone at the door. Thankfully you stilted just in time and took a step back as your eyes widened at the sight of Gaz.

"Good morning." He said, offering you a smile so charming you thought even alphas could be sway by it. How could one beta seemingly have that mush natural charisma? It seemed kind of unfair for the rest of you.

"Em... Hi?" You answered, unsure if you were more amused or confused to found him there this morning.

"Cap wanted to see you."

"Oh, shit. Was Captain Price waiting for my mission report? I was just about to go give it to him."

"Wait... You actually completed two weeks worth of paperwork in one evening? We thought you were joking yesterday."

"Yes... one evening..." Not like he needed to know you actually stayed up most of the night for it...

"Well... I'm pretty sure that was not what this was about, but I can't see why Price would be mad to have your report already."

"I'll show you to his office." He said, nodding his head for you to follow, that charming smile still on his lips.

You couldn't denied that the silence that followed was... awkward, to say the least. You had expected to fill out your mission report, give it and get back on your merry way. But getting summoned by the Captain of one of the most reputed Task Force in the country was not part of that plan. You were starting to wonder if Ophelia had decided to get you in trouble one last time and that you were about to receive an earful...

As Gaz led you through the administrative building on base, you could faintly hear bits and pieces of a muffled conversation happening further down the corridor.

"Johnny, I told you no already. Its not going to happen. Not now."

"Come on Cap! Ye caught the lassie's scent too! Even bloody Simon reacted. She-"

You didn't have time to hear more because Gaz was suddenly speed walking towards one of the door, almost frantic looking as he open it and called out; "We're here!"

Was that blush you had caught on his cheeks?... Never mind, you were probably just imagining it.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" You ask, stepping in the office.

"Yes. Please, take a seat, Sergeant." Price said with a sigh, running a hand over his face.

Soap was looking at you with wide eyes, his scent oozing embarrassment, and, as you move to sit, you had to consciously stop yourself from jumping once you realized it was Ghost standing in the corner and not, in fact, a coat hanger.

Price cleared his voice before starting. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of requesting a copy of your files yesterday. Quite the impressive track record you have so far."

"Thank you, sir." You answered, straightening up. Your beta did that thing again, where she was way too happy to be praised by a big alpha. You can't remember the last time she did that before yesterday...

"Not the most accurate shot I've seen in my career, but well above average. What's most surprising is your apparent ability to consistently take down alphas twice your size in close quarter combat."

"Thank you, Captain. I work hard on my strengths and even harder on my weaknesses."

"There's really no need to be so formal." Price chuckled, and you couldn't help but relax a bit.

"Coupled that with the fact that you just completed an escort mission that the higher-ups would normally assign at least three soldiers to complete, all on your own, and with seemingly no problem? It makes you sound too good to still me in your current squad."

Three soldiers? God, you were going to have a long chat with your commanding officer once you were back to your own base...

"Given all that, I would like to know if you would consider joining the 141."

"What?" You couldn't help but let out, baffled.

"We could use someone like you. There would be a trial period at the beginning, obviously, but we would like to consider a permanent transfer if everything goes great and you accept it."

"Captain, it's... it's an honor, really, but aren't you worried it isn't the right time? Whit Ophelia coming into the picture, I mean."

"Thrust me, Sergeant, I won't let the changes happening to my pack affect my squad."

"Oh." Oh...

You took a deep breath, thinking it over.

"You don't need to give an answer right away."

"In all honesty, Captain, I don't think this is an opportunity I can pass up. I don't have to think about it when I already know I would hate myself for not even trying. I'll make sure you don't regret putting your fate in me." You answered, a small smile creeping its way onto your lips.

Your commending officer, well, ex CO at this point, had sounded all but too smug when saying that he had told you this would be a career changing mission. You had let him have it, he wasn't wrong after all, but you couldn't but notice the slight edge in his voice. You knew him well enough to figure understand that, although he was happy for you, he wasn't actually so please to have one of his soldier stolen from right under his nose. You had called your squad to tell them the good news and ask if someone could pack up your things and send them over. They had gladly agreed, congratulated you and told you you would still have a place with them if it didn't work out.

You were now in a barrack that had clearly not seen any living inhabitant in a long time. You might have been joining the squad, but they still needed their space as a pack, even more so with their new omega, so you understood why you were here. You wouldn't complain, it was better then being stuck with the recruits again, but it clearly needed a good clean.

What you didn't understand was why Soap was bringing so many box in.

"What's all this?"

"Ophelia's things." He hummed out, as if it was supposed to be obvious.

"What?!"

"Ophelia's things" He repeated. "The boxes arrived a couple of days ago. Price just didn't want to leave them unattended while waithing for her."

"I... had kind of figured that part out... I guess my question was more like; why are you bringing them here? Does she really have so much stuff that it doesn't fit in your pack's barrack?"

"No, she just going to be set up here."

He couldn't help but shift uncomfortably once he turned around to see your still very clearly confused face.

"I mean... its just... Price thought, you know, that maybe we shouldn't push her too mush? Give her her own space while she acclimates to the pack?"

The explanation made sense, but the way his scent was slowly souring, even if almost imperceptibly, told you there was either more to it or it wasn't completely true.

You didn't push. Their pack dynamic was none of your concern and making one of your new teammate uncomfortable on your first day probably wasn't the best move. So you just nodded, watching the relief flood his face, and just went back to your cleaning.

Stepping back in your new room, you found a big woolen blanked that hadn't been there before. Taking it in your hands and bringing it to your nose, you were meet with a mixed of scents you could figure out belong to the members of the 141. You took a minute to let your beta guiltily revel in it before reminding yourself it more then likely wasn't meant for you. It made more sense to you that it would have been for Ophelia. And since Soap had been bringing her things in the common area of the barrack this hole time, it was plausible he had mistaken the room you had chosen for hers.

It's at that exact moment Ophelia decided to make her presence in the barrack known, snatching the blanket from you.

"Don't fuck this up for me." She hissed at you.

Maybe you shouldn't have complained about the recruits barrack...

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Tag list:

@lavenderloss @kiris-poprock @listen-to-navi

[parkersbliss]

Carry-On | J. MacTavish

pairing: soap x female reader (idk he calls them lassie so)

warnings: none just fluff 'cause idk this was cute in my head?

synopsis: something something meeting soap in an airport late for a flight

a/n: just had this random thought and I thought it was cute for soap like just imagine meeting this scot at an airport and he handles your luggage?? yeah thanks bye

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for call of duty!

--

Your feet pound mercilessly on the ground, eyes scanning the signs above your head and the ensuing clacking of wheels on the tile behind you. Inside your head, you can hear a clock ticking with every second you are trying to race it. 

This just had to happen to you, of all days and all people. It was (Y/N) starring in the no good, very horrible, everything gone wrong day. You grip your bag a little tighter as you stop in hopes of assessing your location. Your eyes dart all over the vastness of the airport. The skylights flooded the room with sparkling sun, the dull white and gray of beams crisscrossing in what was probably a modern design. Signs are located in every direction, with letters, numbers, and arrows accompanying them. 

People skirted past you, knocking shoulders, mumbling apologies, and even yelling to get out of the way. But by this point of the day, you honestly couldn’t give two shits. You had a flight to catch and it would be really nice if you couldfigure out where. 

“Attention all passengers: Flight UA43 is now boarding.” 

“Oh, fuck,” you curse loudly. You pull your phone from your pocket, fingers splaying over the screen to log in and view your boarding pass. In the meantime, your legs begin carrying you in the direction of where you believe the gate is. You make quick hurried steps, still checking your phone and dragging your small carry-on suitcase. 

It was your fault, really, when you collided with a brick wall and your phone flew to the ground, your carry-on toppling over, more crashing sounds, and a pair of arms around your waist. One hand splays across your back to keep you from falling and the other digs into the flesh of your waist.

“I got ya!” 

Stumbling a bit, you immediately grabbed what was in front of you. It turns out it wasn’t a wall, rather, someone’s shirt. You could feel the rippling muscles underneath.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry!” You usher out. 

At the same time: “shit, shit, ���m sorry!” 

You stared straight into his chest, letting go of his shirt as he dropped the hand on your waist. Your face burned with heat at the thought of being so close to a stranger. You can’t help the cologne that floats off him like a whisper, begging you to come closer. He smells like bergamot and iris, a refreshing earthy scent that leaves you reeling. 

“I wasn’t paying attention,” You explained, both you and the stranger picking up your fallen luggage, and his hand left your back.

“Neither was I. My fault.” 

You pause when you stand back up with your phone and finally get a good look at him. It should be a crime the way whatever you were gonna say next falls completely silent as cerulean eyes pierce into you. It should also be a crime that you managed to forget about the flight you’re desperately trying to catch in exchange for a man who is jaw-drop gorgeous, with a mohawk and you think you heard an accent.

The intercom announces your flight again and you shake your head. “I have to catch this flight—,” You’re already moving in the direction of your gate. No way were you coughing up another $500 because of horrible time management. 

“UA34?” He asked, his suitcase clacking behind him as he caught up to you. 

You turn to look at him. “Yeah.” 

He gives you a toothy grin. “Seems we’re both a little loss then, aye?” 

You can’t help the way the corner of your lips turn up a bit. You weren’t going to be the last person on this flight. “You too?”

He nods his head in the direction of your gate. “C’mon, lassie, we got a flight to catch.” 

Without thinking, he’s grabbing your free hand and dragging you through the airport. He weaves through the crowd like an expert, dodging left and right and slipping through the spaces between two people. You’re stumbling behind him, both yours and his luggage clicking loudly against the tile. It’s a catastrophe of noises as you mumble apologies to passing people who gasp and shout. Yet somehow, you find yourself more focused on the warm hand in yours leading you to salvation. 

He lets go of your hand as you break from the crowd and can see your flashing gate number at the end of the stupidly long hall. You both break into a run, turning to face each other and laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Your bag swings wildly at your side as you race next to him to a flight you didn’t think you were gonna make. 

“C’mon!” He shouts, waving his hand forward. 

“This is crazy!” 

You nearly crash into a couple and their coffee, shouting an apology as you rush through the airport. He grabs your hand again when you start slowing down, clasping the handles of your luggage in the other. 

“We catching this flight, or not?” He teases, not nearly as breathless as you. “Haul ass, lassie!” 

You grip his hand a little tighter, something like a spark of determination that wasn’t there before arising as you let him pull you the final steps. 

“Well, you just made it!” The flight attendant said as you both fumbled to hand over your boarding passes. 

“Thanks,” You pant, flashing the stranger a tired smile. He matches it, blue eyes flickering with pride. 

“Enjoy your flight,” She said, tearing away the ticket and ushering you inside.

He lets you go first, still carrying your luggage that you’d honestly forgotten about. You weave between seats, searching for your row and number. You’re waiting for him to break apart from you, but he doesn’t.

You finally find it. “This is me.” You drop your hands to your side. 

He nods and with ease, lifts your carry-on into the compartment above your seat and then his. 

You fall into your seat, strapping the buckle across and taking a deep breath. You watch as he slams the compartment shut and you’re prepared to say goodbye before he sits down next to you. 

“Name’s Johnny,” He greeted, extending a hand. “But you can call me Soap.” 

You shake his hand, a little pointless for formalities as he had already dragged you hand-in-hand through an airport. “(Y/N). Why Soap?” 

Soap smiles at you again, all pearly whites and laugh lines you want to trace. “You’ve got a whole flight to find that out, lassie.” 

– END –

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[postmortemnivis]

could be read as a part two of this post

“when i met you,” price started, “you were a mess of a man.”

simon grunted in response, his arms crossed over his chest almost as if he wanted to protect, shield himself from price’s words. each cut deeper than knives, aiming straight for the strong walls he’d built around his heart, the ones that only you had been able to tear down.

a mess of a man. he knew it, he didn’t need to hear about it too.

“at first, i honestly didn’t think you were going to ever become someone.” the older man admitted.

johnny’s laughter could be heard from the living room, where he and kyle were chatting about god knows what, probably the last poor girl johnny shagged in a bathroom stall at a pub the previous night.

“you didn’t?”

price shook his head. “as i said, a mess of a man, simon.”

a mess of a man. simon knew himself, he knew he was no saint, no good: he was a murderer, the angel of death that could be seen in the middle of the field, his dark glow foretelling the end of anyone who found himself in the middle of his bloody path. his hands were stained with the blood of many, the same hands he refused to touch you with; the only thing that kept him sane was knowing he wasn’t ghost, ghost’s crimes were shielded from simon by his black gloves and balaclava.

simon looked at price as his hand rested on his shoulder. he remembered what it felt to be neglected by his own father, and price knew it. price always seemed to know everything about his boys, he could see right through him. what simon needed was guidance, and price would’ve given it to him.

“nothing to be ashamed of,” he continued, “most of you boys are, you seek for something more. think of johnny, he enlisted when he was sixteen. you enlisted the day of your eighteenth birthday. we all know that if you’re a responsible man you don’t run to the army. we’re all crazy, messed up men.”

price also knew they were reckless, a suicidal loyalty bound to him. after all, their job attracted the beasts, the outcasts, the sadists, the worst of society.

simon rolled his eyes when price referred to them as boys. the man was less than ten years older than simon, but he still felt the paternal pressure and instinct to protect the boys. his boys.

“wha’ made you change your mind?”

price motioned simon to move further into the kitchen, away from the people that were invited to his house.

“her.”

your voice echoed as you walked out of the bathroom, letting johnny finally hold his little niece. gary was walking behind you with the brightest smile on his face. kyle made a comment about how the three weeks old baby looked just like you, with simon’s dark eyes and pale blonde hair. if only he knew you helped simon bleach it every month and a half, him sat on the edge of the bathtub and you standing between his thighs, his hands firm on your waist as he—for once—looked up at you instead the other way round.

you agreed with a chuckle, looking around for simon.

“look a’ the lassie, she’s already an uncles gal!” johnny’s laughter filled the flat. from the corner of his eyes, simon could see the person he’d grown to call his brother hold his newborn daughter.

“her?” he looked at you, the softest and most subtle smile crawling on his scarred face. simon struggled to hold back his smirk.

price nodded. “i remember we all could tell that you met someone. you’d become less… rigid. you’d smile more, were more clement with the recruits.”

“she changed me.” simon shrugged, attempting to hide the smile that would try to crawl on his face anytime he’d think about you. even after years, between a marriage and now a child, his eyes would light up at your thought alone. that’s the impact, the effect you had on him.

“that’s good, simon.” price spoke. “we’re all happy you’re doing better. we remember how you used to-”

“okay, got the message.” simon interrupted him. “loud an’ clear, john.”

his life before you seemed so distant and he almost couldn’t remember of a time where you weren’t by his side yet. like a far away dream, closer to a nightmare than a dream, but still something that didn’t look like the life he was living now. he didn’t need to remember a bit of it, what was the use? he had you now, everything before the day you met didn’t matter anymore, it didn’t exist anymore.

price sighed, looking to the ceiling as he tried to find something in his pocket. “coming outside for a smoke?”

simon shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “nah, capt. quit a while ago.”

it’d been months since you’d showed him the pregnancy test that shook his whole world. he’d fallen to his knees in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by worried recruits, johnny immediately sprinting close enough to check whether his lieutenant was okay but far enough to give you two privacy.

“promise me ‘m not dreamin’.” he murmured, pulling you closer by wrapping his arms around your waist, hiding his face in your chest.

you brushed his short blond hair back, biting your lip as you smiled. you could feel your eyes tingling, tears threatening to spill at any given minute. “you’re not, si. we’re gonna be parents.”

you chuckled, leaning down to kiss his head and felt your white work shirt getting wet by his tears. you looked around at the faces of the confused recruits, and you smiled, because you knew you were the only person who’d ever truly know how the scary lieutenant, the ghost, really was.

“we are.” he whispered before kissing your still flat stomach, getting back up and giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “thank you.”

in the nine months he’d been taking care of you like a person on their deathbed—really not necessary, si, i can still do the dishes by myself—he’d stopped smoking, and treated himself to just one beer every first sunday of the month.

he had worked on himself, hard.

for you and for your daughter. he wanted to be a better person, a good man. he wanted to be nothing like his father, that having haunted and scared him for so long and being the main reason he always tried to postpone having children, what truly held him back, but he tried to be a better man.

that was what distinguished him from his father, he tried to be better.

leaving the military was sure next, after fixing the downstairs bathroom faucet and oil the doorknob of the closet. he wondered how the boys would take it, but in the end he didn’t really care, he knew they’d understand.

“quit.” price repeated, eyebrows raised as he put his lighter back in pocket. he wasn’t a social smoker, but knew better than to smoke near a baby, even if he would’ve excused himself to the balcony.

simon smiled as he heard you scold johnny for throwing the little girl in the air. “what if you drop her?”

“ah wid never, lass.” he reassured you, laughing at the slap he got on his scruff.

“you’re a good man, simon.” prices hand found its way on simon’s shoulder again. “you went through a lot, but you’re still fighting for a good cause, you didn’t let it change you. that’s what makes you a good man.”

simon was about to deny, say he wasn’t, he was the worst man there was, but then you walked into the kitchen, all smiles.

“hey si.” you smiled. “baby’s hungry.”

simon immediately stretched out his arms to hold the baby, a bottle already in his hands as soon as those words left your plush lips, your lashes batting up at him.

you wrapped your arms around one of his strong biceps and smiled up at him and then at price.

“cute, isn’t she?”

“is indeed.” john nodded, smiling under his thick moustache.

before he decided to leave the kitchen to leave you three some privacy and join the boys in the living room, where johnny had apparently put on a rugby match—“scotland-wales, for fucks sake, lad!”—he shot simon one final knowing glance.

simon returned the look, your eyes too focused on the little girl in her charcoal grey onesies to notice.

“you okay, si?” you whispered, but your husband's eyes were unfocused, staring off into space as price’s words kept replaying in his head like a broken record.

he nodded, kissing your forehead almost instinctively. “yes, love.”

you smiled up at him and then at your daughter, simon’s mind travelling an hundred miles an hour, waiting to crash on itself and get brought back to reality. price’s words echoed in the background of his brain, quieter each second that passed.

a good man.

tagging who asked:

@mr-sol @v1x3n @m4dyy @softangelheart @redzluvvesage @nittoka

[thebeeiswritng]

-Soap having a one night stand with someone that has Tourette’s syndrome

When he first met you he thought your tics were actually interesting, you could see the gears turning his head trying to wrap his head around the concept of Tourette’s syndrome.

As the night got longer and the alcohol’s effects got stronger, the offer of going to bed together was brought up. Soap had no qualms with the idea, even being excited about laying someone with Tourette’s, like it’s a new box to check on a check list.

Once you and Soap got to you bed, your tics slowed down, your body falling into the feeling of making out over ticing.

As soon as all clothes were off, final consents were given to proceed, Soap started to push in. Unsurprisingly your body was starting to tic in reaction to the intrusion, hiccup tics as well as both vocal stims and tics were flying from your mouth, even bodily tics here and there. But surprisingly this only turned Soap on more. He’s never seen anyone react like you do, it’s honestly kinda sexy.

Once his pelvis touches yours, Soap pauses, asks if you are okay, and rubs circles on one of your hips with his thumb, half in concern, half in anticipation, (and sort of waiting for your tics to slow again). Once you tell him he can move again, he doesn’t wait a second. Though he is still cautious he starts a slow pace starting to gage your reaction to him.

You are taking deep breaths, trying not to tic too much and scare him off, but soon Soap can tell you aren’t fully in the moment. He only ponders why for a second before he leans in close to your ear to tell you something.

“You don’t have to hold back. I’m not going anywhere bonnie.”

You only reply with, “if you let loose, I will,” while brining your legs up to wrap around his hips.

This reply makes Jonny smile cheekily for a moment before rutting into harder than even he imagined he would into your wet cunt. This in turn draws out a hiccup tic and a tic that throws your head to the side from you, and makes a cocky smirk form on Soap’s face.

Soap’s pace was still on the slower side but it was brutal, jutting and grinding his hips into you, as his thrusts kept coming so did your tics and the wet smacks from your pussy.

Each hard and slow thrust would earn Soap a hiccup tic, perhaps a whine, you thrashing your body intermittently, which he found intoxicating. It seemed he could go on at this pace for hours dragging out pleasured moans, whines and tics from you.

This went on for so long, him in captivation of all of your sounds and movements, and you slowly teetering on being overstimulated and delirious from being on the edge for so long tears started to spill from your eyes, each hiccuping tic letting a teardrop fall down your cheeks, while neck jeers let many run down in quick succession.

These tears made Soap impossibly harder inside of you. Soap licked the tears from your cheeks before saying:

“Tell me what you need lassy. Tell me what to do to make you break.”

This earned him a clench and some nonsense babbling, mostly boiling down to more and faster. With a quick kiss to your cheek, he swiftly delivered.

His quickened pace made your high, which once felt so far way come barreling towards you. And before he knew it your orgasm hit, clenching around him deliciously while babbling thank yous between tears and hiccuping tics.

With how exciting watching you was he didn’t realize how his own orgasm was about to hit his body full force. He barely had enough time to pullout before he immediately spilled his cum on your stomach.

With both of you still hanging in the after shocks of your highs, the rooms was full of both your ragged breathing and your hiccups finally coming to a stop, with your tears slowing down too.

Considering it was already in the wee hours in the morning, you both could only really drag wet wash cloths over each others bodies to clean briefly before knocking out.

The morning came and went and when you both woke up in the afternoon, it was time to say goodbye. You lead Soap to the front door, gave him a quick kiss to the cheek and closed the door behind him, as if the night before didn’t matter as much to you as it did to him.

Soap has however, created core memories with you, your address is quickly jotted down in his phone as well as the bar you two met at. As soon as he left he was planning how to get back into your apartment to create more memories with you and to hopefully learn just about all the tics he could pull from you.

Needless to say Soap had a good time, and perhaps got himself a new kink involving hiccups.

—————————————————————————

Sex with Soap: written by a girl with Tourette’s syndrome

[hugemilkshake]

Golden Cheese Cookie × Reader oneshot please (Reader is Burning Spice's child (they're adult))

Enjoy the milkshake! I’m making it so that reader is like an apprentice of sorts to burning spice but the majority of spice swarm agrees that reader is basically his kid. Would Burning spice be a good father? Hmmmm….

Beastly advice

-Romantic leaning-

Your mentor or “father” always bugged you.

He never really cared for simple things, as in he’d destroy them all. It bugged you.

The day he was imprisoned was a nice day for you, even if it came with some slight immorality, your life improved for the better! You started a farm located on the outskirts of the land of spice.

It was simple.

Oh only if it could stay that way.

The ground shook and creatures started moving towards the abandoned temple that the beast of destruction resided in, which was strange to say the least, no one went there unless they had offerings or something.

But then… you heard the gongs ring out.

Your dough started to crawl. The Great Destroyer, your mentor, your adoptive FATHER was back. You had so many questions buzzing around your head.

How was he back? What happened to the seal? What was going to happen to you? And what is going to happen to the innocent creatures of this land?

Your head was spinning from the anxiety you felt about this. But if there’s one thing that you wanted to do before everything went down the drain, you wanted to make sure no innocent bystanders could get seriously harmed in the crossfire.

—————————————

The dust settled and the winds calmed, a winged cookie dressed in gold, followed by a cookie in a bird like hood, made their way towards the Lassi springs, Pepper Pangolin Cookie left not too long ago and Y/N Cookie was making sure everything from there that needed to leave was ready for transport. It was then that the two groups stumbled across each other.

Y/N Cookie was the first one to speak, their words were directed towards the golden cookie.

“So your the one the beast is looking for? I’m not surprised, you look like you can put up a good fight, I’m Y/N Cookie by the way”

The winged cookie was about to speak up when her companion spoke.

“Is that meant to be an insult towards her majesty? Because if it is, then that is quite the pathetic insult.” Y/N Cookie Chuckled

“Not at all, I honestly think that you could beat the beast, and honestly I can give you some advice, granted it’s been a while since we’ve spoken.”

“Information would be appreciated, it seems that this beast is quite formidable” the winged cookie paused before speaking again “My names Golden Cheese Cookie and this is my companion, Smoked Cheese Cookie.”

Y/N Cookie nodded “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, let’s sit and have a chat, the springs are quite calming”

—————————————

The three cookies sat and had a conversation about the beast of destruction and how you knew this information, it was a bit akward at first but it soon developed into laughter and jokes, mainly between Y/N Cookie and Golden Cheese

Y/N Cookie gently and jokingly hit Golden Cheeses arm, laughter flowing through the air. The two of them had grown to be very aquatinted with each other.

With a sigh, Y/N Cookie stood up, saying that it’s best for them to head out, there was stuff that needed to get done. Golden Cheese had a sad look in her eyes, like she was disappointed that the conversation had to end.

With a final wave goodbye, Y/N Cookie gave the two good luck and went their separate ways…

But as the day went on.. worry started to grow. Sounds of battle rung throughout the air, there was no ideas about what might be happening to the other..

—————————————

Through the rubble, Y/N Cookie and some Kulfi dug through the rubble, the fight that occurred here was violent, but no one knew who came out victorious… was it Golden Cheese or that beast of a mentor…?

You dug through the rubble when a golden shine caught the corner of your eye. The Kulfi were already talking to the victor.

“Golden Cheese Cookie?!” You made your way through the rubble and into the clearing as you saw her, she looked even more radiant than before, her wings shone like burning embers and you could just get lost in her beauty.

“Y/N Cookie!” She flew to you and you both embraced each other, she spun you around and the two of you stayed together like that for a minute until Smoked Cheese cleared his throat

The two of you looked at each other and released each other, looking away with a flushed face. Chuckling to each other.

“I’m glad your okay…”

“I’m… glad your okay as well”

Things weren’t going to be simple as they used to be… but that’s okay, you had someone to look forward to seeing

[anjelicawrites]

Follows from this

After the first, disastrous, meet cute with Johnny, his puppy dog eyes had convinced you to give him your number, not expecting anything from the whole interaction if not a couple of lukewarm text messages, until he'd grow, inevitably, bored of you. You would have never expected to reach the one year mark with him, and to be planning your first big trip together.

Suggestive themes, 18+ only please

Which brings you to the specific issue with camping: Johnny wants to show you the beauties of Scotland (yay!) and he's hellbent that you two should go camping, not the type where you go to an organized campsite (no!), he wants you to frolic with him in nature (hell no!), eat what you two can cook on the fire and using river water to wash yourselves (big fucking no on your part).

"Why not? It will be fun!"

He tells you, big puppy dog eyes staring into the depths of your soul. He's freshly back from deployment where he's probably been sleeping in only God knows what conditions, with the added bonus of people shooting at him; that he wants a repeat, with less violence and more Scotland, is beyond you.

"I'm a city mouse. I can't see what's so fun about sleeping on the forest floor and get wet in the pouring rain."

Over the line you hear Simon potter about.

You have no idea of what he does in his spare time: does he paint miniature soldiers? Is he a plant dad? Is he into book binding? Of all of John's friends he's the only one you can picture being a serial killer during is down time. Is he preparing a trap for his next victim?

"Hunting down your partner in the thick of the woods until they have nowhere to go." He deadpans.

He's never stopped doing whatever it is that he does while he's on the phone with you: is he knitting? He's the type who might appreciate that kind of work with his hands.

"Simon?"

"Yes love?"

"Will you please promise me something?"

"It depends. Shoot."

"Will you discuss in depth your ideas of what is 'fun' with your partner?"

The sounds on his side of the conversation still.

"Too much?"

"I'm not kinkshaming but you were a bit intense."

Another heartbeat of silence.

"Oh."

"Pinkie promise Simon?"

"Pinkie promise, love. Go camping, you're going to have fun with Johnny."

Buckets, really, like the rain pouring down you and your boyfriend, so much water that your tent has caved in and he had to concede defeat.

"Find a place that's dry, lass."

You two are lucky: a quaint B&B only a couple of miles away, run by a nice elderly couple of former hotels owners, who had decided to open a smaller place because retirement was boring.

"You two were in luck." The lady says, offering you a cup of tea. "We had a last minute cancellation."

Honestly? You would have slept in the broom closet, or on one of the comfortable armchair in the dining room, feet propped up to warm them by the fire.

The kitchen is closed, yet the husband dishes out enough food to fill a whole cavalry squadron and the lady looks fondly at Johnny who is hellbent in cleaning up all the plates in front of you two.

It's late when you and Johnny reach your room, even more tired now that your bellies have been filled.

You exit the en-suit bathroom still patting your hair dry, Johnny is laying on the bed, shirtless, the small telly is blabbering away in the distance.

"Come here, lassie." He drawls

"I should make you sleep on the floor, mister. Not rewarding your behavior. We could have had this." You point at the warm room. "Right from the start, you know?"

"You could. Or you can hop in and have some fun."

He pushes the covers away, uncovering his leaking erection, the head red against his skin; the response from your body is immediate: you're getting wet the longer you stare at him.

"Grab the headboard."

Johnny's big hands wound around the elaborate wrought iron, his pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the blue of his eyes.

Taking your time you fish for the belt of your dressing gown to tie his wrist securely, using one of the knots he's taught you.

"Now, bonnie, that's just mean!" He whines, but you know he's enjoying himself immensely, if you have to go by the way his cock twitches.

"I think you have been talking way too much!"

Swiftly you remove your panties and stuff them in his mouth, effectively shutting him up.

Leisurely, ignoring the half formed whines he's trying to pour from behind the makeshift gag, you pick one of the books you have bought for the trip, walk back to him ignoring the way he's trying to free his hands, straddle his hips to sink on his cock.

You laugh when the light of hope disappears from his eyes the moment you don't start riding him, electing to stay still and start reading your book, all your weight on his hips and tights to stop him from bucking up.

"Now, Johnny, let me read my book and be quiet. If you can do that, I might let you go to sleep without a nasty case of blue balls."

Obviously he can't be still and let you read in peace, of course you have to ruin his orgasm (it's so much more fun!), peck him on the nose and proceed to sleep like the dead until morning.

"Turnabout is only fair, sweetheart."

His voice comes muffled from between your legs: it's your turn to suffer now; hopefully the nice, elderly couple will not come look for you and Johnny this early in the morning.

[milgramfessing]

People are really odd when it comes to Mu in general. People swing between saying she's never done anything wrong ever, excusing her for literally telling the only doctor in the prison that Haruka was fine and implying he was eating,

24/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday)

Shidou: ……I’m worried about Sakurai-kun. I haven’t seen him around in a while. You’ve been talking with him, right?

Mu: He’s fine. Here, look. I’ve been taking his food to him like this every day. Isn’t that great of me?

Shidou: Yes, very. I’m sorry I’ve been leaving it to you to look after him. Usually, that would be the job of us adults, and yet we’re leaving you with the burden.

Mu: Don’t worry about it. After all, me and Haruka-kun are friends.

Belittle her character by implying she's too stupid to understand the consequences of her behavior or the feelings of others around her. Despite how caring, observant, and socially aware she has shown herself to be over the course of the series.

20/05/28

Mu: It’s weird…… Even though we’re locked up in a place like this…… everyone seems fine. …………nothing’s happened to me so far…… b-but, who knows when they’ll do something horrible to me…… ……hey, are you listening to me? What are you staring at……?

Amane: I’m not staring at anything.

Mu: Liar, you definitely are…… What is it……? That rabbit? Jackalope…… I think that’s what it’s called. ……do you want to pet it?

Amane: ………… Eh, you want to pet it? If you want to, then I’ll be happy to go over and join you.

20/08/01

Mu: Somehow, he feels even fluffier today than usual…… so soft…… Ah, Haruka, do you want to touch too? Jackalope, I mean……

Haruka: Ah, I-I’m fine…… I’m n-not good, with animals…...

Amane: Hm. To think you’d have a problem with something so cute. You’re a really strange person, Haruka-san.

Haruka: …………I guess so.

All of her characterization gets downplayed and ignored as soon as she's done something harmful. In order to lessen her conscious involvement. People rudely go what was she meant to do to help Haruka she took him food she was trying her best to dissuade him.

Honestly, a good first fucking step would be to bring him something he can actually swallow and would settle on his stomach.

But maybe people are woefully ignorant of how starvation works. Maybe a lot of people don't know if you go long enough without food it becomes painful to even swallow or chew food. So bringing a starving man a whole fish and rice isn't the "I want to help" move people are making it out to be. But how was she supposed to know that- May I take you back to the timeline where she actively disuaded a doctor from checking on him?

Because I think the actual doctor would have been able to know and help in this situation while he was still alive.

If other characters can be responsible for how their actions or inaction indirectly hurt someone in and outside of Milgram despite how they couldn't have possibly known that would be the result what makes Mu better than anyone else who didn't know that they would happen, what makes her more deserving of justifications related to her age and alleged lack of knowledge?

The fucking kicker here is they canonically have something that would have saved Haruka's life in Milgram. If only it was just fucking given to him by one of the two parties that knew what he was doing before the point of no return.

20/06/09

Yuno: Thanks for the meal~! ……huh? Kotoko-san, what’ve you got? That’s so unfair, only you getting to drink something that looks so good.

Kotoko: ……it’s a whey protein shake. It doesn’t taste particularly good or anything. I sent a request for it to the guard. The food we get here isn’t bad in terms of nutrient balance, but it’s a bit lacking in protein for me personally.

Yuno: A protein shake, huh. I’ve never tried one before. It looks kinda like a lassi. Can I have a sip?

Kotoko: ……just one sip. Oi, that’s more than a sip. This is supposed to become my muscle.

But how could you be so sure Haruka could have been stopped through this method?

Well, for starters, it's something he'd be able to consume a little more easily (but may not be painless depending on how long it's been), unlike the food Mu was bringing. Two, it's something one could, in theory, force him to drink if it came to that.

Furthermore, protein drinks are literally what are recommended to help someone who has gone a long period without food get back into eating, be it due to illness or by choice. Because after going a long period withoit food it's not ussually recommended to eat foods that are heavy or too complex. It's either this, fluids, or a feeding tube. So, this is just something that factually could have straight up saved his life.

Beyond all that, he flat out admits this could have stopped him through him going out of his way to ask Kotoko (the one who has this) specifically not to interfere with his plan along with him being implied to have told her exactly what his plan was when asking her to not intervene.

23/12/15 (Kotoko’s Birthday)

Haruka: ……please, don’t tell anyone. And also, please, don’t get involved. All I can do, is ask, you……

Kotoko: ––Fufu, fufufufufu.That’s a crazy thing to be thinking. Honestly, it’s weird. But I don’t hate it. If only all the wrongdoers were like you.

Haruka: No…… that’s wrong…… That’s not, why I’m doing, this…… This, isn’t for me…… I have to protect…… so, Kotoko-san…… please……

Kotoko: Eh? Ah, yeah, yeah. Well, I promise I won’t get in your way. Honestly, if I could, I’d love to do it myself, but I’ll step back this time. As for what happens next…… I wonder. It depends on Es.

The Milgram prisoners have a shared kitchen. Everyone had access to this unless Kotoko was just hoarding it in her room, which I doubt. Yet even so, if anyone else was made aware of Haruka's plan earlier then they could have simply requested protein shakes themselves. Haruka did not have to die like this.

This is what makes Futa consistently bringing up the fact Haruka could have been saved so sad.

Futa (Trial 3 Voice Lines)

1 – Kajiyama Futa. Heh… Hahahaha. I see. Looking back, I probably didn’t need to be so scared.

2 – Who cares about forgiving and not forgiving any more. I don’t care about all the annoying voices I kept hearing. There’s something else more important to follow.

3 – I’m different from how I used to be. That person taught me. About faith, about the new world. It’s all down to me…

4 – There was nothing that could be done about the two who went against the commandments, but I feel bad for Haruka. He could’ve been saved like I was.

5 – Just leave everyone to that person. They can save this prison. Just look at me, I’ve already been saved!

It's what makes this timeline so sad,

24/04/19 (Futa’s Birthday)

Futa: ––Hey, are you really ok with this? If you come with me, there’s a chance you can be saved too…… Haruka.

Haruka: Yeah…… I’ve made my mind up. I have, something, that I have to do.

Futa: Ah, is that right…… Haruka, you know, you’re an idiot. There’s no way…… that will save you……

Haruka: Yeah, thank you. I’m glad you came to talk to me, Futa. Um, thank you, for being so kind. Really. But, I’m sorry. This is all I’m able to do……

Because it's the truth if he went with Futa in that moment if, he chose not to follow through when displayed the alternatives- Haruka would still be here. He would have a proper trial three and a song. Yet, instead of actually showing some consideration and understanding towards the people rightfully upset about the fact they won't have that closure with a character, they grew to care so much about...

Haruka and his characterization has been reduced to simple pity fodder for Mu. So people can go well she tried, she didn't fully understand, she's hurting too that was her friend, or the real kicker-

"Well, you should vote her innocent because that's what Haruka wanted. It's what he did that for. Do you want his last actions in the narrative to be in vain? This is why you should forgive her even though she didn't do as much for him as she could have. She just really didn't know."

As though we should just ignore the fact that despite Haruka crying out in All-Knowing All- Agony that he didn't want to be wiped out,

"Don’t wipe me out, don’t wipe me out- I just want to be your good boy."

Despite him saying blatantly he didn't want to die,

Q.17 How old do you want to live to be?

Haruka: I never thought about it. I don’t want to die.

The people who his character meant so much to are just meant to fall in line and show forgiveness to the person who blatantly said

"Why would I?"

When asked if she was trying to stop him since she knew his plan.

Mu Queen B 12:36s

Mu: Ah- But if you don't forgive me, Haruka-kun will die. So, I think it'd be best not to do that.

Es: ...!

[BELL TOLLS]

Es: So, you've heard about that nonsense, too?

Mu: Mhm. Haruka-kun told me. So I could rest easy, according to him. That made me happy... It made me really feel our friendship!

Es: You know about it, and you're not trying to stop him? Haruka, that is?

Mu: Why would I? Haruka-kun says that's what he wants, so there's nothing I can do, right?

Not letting people mourn and recognize what they've lost along with the unjust nature of that loss all to secure one's own personal comfort- To push forward in ways such as that is an inconsiderateness that's simply the definition of unfairness to me.

Especially while other people within the fandom are allowed to mourn the loss of characters they loved due to the events of the series- Blaming whoever they feel fit be it characters within the series or fans of it. All the while many haphazardly attempt to revise in real time what occurred to defend a character who I don't doubt has a significant amount of depth and emotionality but feel a lot of characterization is being ignored in the way people try to bend and stretch her to fit this idea of what an innocent person to them may be.

Though people may simply do this to ignore her character and the rest of the prisoners' ability to purposefully and knowingly commit harm, something rooted deeply in all ten of their characterizations. I'm sick of seeing people act like Mu is being wrongfully held to task over something she had no involvement in. From the start to Haruka, Mu was the only reason he did this, and the only reason he felt it was all he could really do.

23/04/07

Haruka: Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. PleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-san

23/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday)

Mu: Haruka-kun, I brought your food. Are you still alive? Has any mould started growing?

Haruka: ……ah, thank you very much. Mu-san. Sorry, um…… I……

Mu: You shouldn’t just lock yourself in your room all day. You have to eat your food properly. Hm, well…… I do understand why you’re feeling down. It feels bad. The atmosphere recently.

Haruka: Um, I’m totally fine…… Just a bit, I’m thinking, about how to do it. What to do, what to do, to…… fulfil my promise. For Mu-san’s sake……

"This is all I’m able to do……"

"Haruka Sakurai"- The Third Trial 1:00s

Haruka: .....don't worry, Mu.

Mu: About what......

Haruka: ......you're going to be innocent, I know it.

Mu: ......you really think so?

Haruka: ......yes......

Mu: Haruka......you're ok with this......?

Haruka: Yes...... I'm so happy...... I helped you, I helped someone......

"I changed......I'm...... useful now......"

There's a lot of factors involved here, and I can understand caring about a character deeply and wanting to see them do well.

Yet, being Innocent doesn't equate to being better. Just being accepted isn't the end all be all cure for the problems people will face in their lives or within themselves.

Some characters aren't here to receive that acceptance or rejection anymore, and I think a lot of conversations surrounding Mu ignore that fact. As well as how many fans of the series have the right to be upset by it. Regardless of how others may rationalize and dismiss Mu's involvement.

[ktdragonborn]

Another Spencer. (Chapter 3)

Carlton Lassiter X Female Reader (Shawn's Sister)

Summary: You finally moved back to California after almost 15 years away. When your mom and dad separated, your dad got Shawn and your mom took you. (Don't ask me why it's just what they agreed on). But now you're back! And you never expected to meet such a dashing Detective that would sweep you off your feet.

Characters: You, Carlton, Shawn and Gus, Juilet, Henry Spencer (dad), Madeleine Spencer (mom), Chief Karan Vick, mention of many other characters.

Warnings: None as of now! There will be smut and other graphic scenes as the story progresses.

~This story follows the show Psych. Plots from episodes are mentioned and some chapters will have you added to them. I do not own any characters from the TV Psych, just a big fan of the show and a bigger fan of our boy Lassie. I couldn't ever find something that hit my craving for Lassiter so here I am. This will also be a very long story. Very long. I'm starting it towards the end of Season 2 and plan on writing it throughout the whole show, skipping some episodes but in the end, it'll be very long.~

Please let me know what you think in the comments! Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list too!

Chapter 2.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walked into the Psych office and saw Gus sitting at his computer. He looked up at you with a frown. “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?” You let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Shawn called me and said you were in trouble. I came over as fast as I could.”

“I’m fine, thank you for checking though.”

“Where’s Shawn? I need to yell at him. I met a very nice man and we were basically on a date!”

“I don’t know where he is. I’m running some numbers for Psych. Trying to figure out where to make budget cuts so we stay afloat.”

“I was curious about how much you guys actually made, not that I doubt you guys but there’s only so many cases the SBPB can need you guys for.”

“Luckily, my job pays me so well I can use some of what I earn to put into Psych,” Gus sighed and lowered his eyebrows. “Hence, why I’m here on a Friday night.”

“Ah! (Y/n)! You got here much quicker than I thought,” Shawn announced as he walked into the office with Chinese takeout in his left hand. 

“Shawn, you told me Gus was in trouble, of course I got here quick! I left a very nice man at a bar because of you!”

“Well one, you’re welcome, he probably wasn’t good enough for you anyway,” Shawn said as he placed the food on his desk, the big brother in him coming out. “Second, Gus is in trouble!”

“What do you mean I’m in trouble?!” Gus exclaimed. 

“You!” Shawn pointed at Gus and sat down in his chair, “did not ask (Y/n) to dinner tonight like I told you to!” 

“That’s what this is about?” Gus sighed and looked at you. “Shawn did want to have dinner tonight, all three of us. I guess it slipped my mind.”

“No biggie honestly. If it was scheduled for this time I probably would’ve said no anyway,” you looked at your watch and read 8:20 PM.

“Besides Shawn, (Y/n) was basically on a date, I think she’s doing fine without us intermingling.”

“Whatever, I would need to meet this guy before I can give him the a-okay,” Shawn defended. You rolled your eyes at your brother and sat down on the couch. You knew they would know Carlton. As soon as he told you he was the head detective you knew Shawn and Gus would never approve and you really debated telling them about him but you know that wouldn’t go over well. You’ve heard the way these two talk about Carlton and know that you would have an ear full to listen to. 

“Well, what’s for dinner? The smell is making me hungry,” you said and Shawn smirked at you before bringing his chair over to you and placing the food on the coffee table. 

“The classic from our local takeout place!”

“The Chinese from the little shop up the road is really good,” Gus defended. 

“Okay, fine,” you sighed and sat down. The boys started talking about their latest endeavours and all you could think about was Carlton. You overheard Shawn mention something about a job he got- not as a psychic but as a stalker essentially.

“So you have to follow this guy?”

“Yeah,” Shawn added, looking at you. At this point, you had started paying attention. “Someone wants his dirty secrets exposed. I can’t tell you who, but I was given a good sum of money to dig up some dirt on him.”

“Who is this guy?”

“A good friend of the mayor, he’s the runner-up for some top position within the city.”

“Be careful then, he may have some bodyguards or something.”

“This isn’t the Vice President, (Y/n),” Shawn snickered and looked at Gus as he forked some food into his mouth. Gus and Shawn both started doing their fake chuckles and you rolled your eyes at them. You took another bite of food when suddenly your phone started ringing. 

“Who is it?” Gus asked, curious as to who could be calling you this late.

“Is it a client?” Shawn asked and tried to peep at the number. You stared at it, not recognizing the numbers on the screen. 

“Could be, I suppose. I haven’t opened up after hours calling though, I always tell my clients to call 911. Excuse me,” you said and stood up, walking into the lobby of Psych and sitting on the desk. “Hello?”

“(Y/n)? This is Carlton,” the man's voice echoed in your ears and you felt yourself smile. You spun around to see if Shawn and Gus were looking at you- they weren’t- too engrossed in their own conversation. 

“Hi, Carlton!” You tried not to sound too excited but the squeak in your voice gave it away. 

“Sorry to call so soon, I wanted to give you time to find out if your friend was okay, how is he?” you mentally slapped Shawn, adoring how caring and worried Carlton sounded. 

“Oh yeah, he’s ok! My brother, ever the drama queen, told me his friend was hurt so I would come over right away. Now they’re both in trouble because they interrupted our evening.”

“Is it too much to hope that we can continue tonight?” you blushed and looked down at the time. Only 30 minutes had passed since you got to Psych. It was almost nine… but it was a Friday night too.

“Are you still at the bar?”

“No.”

“Are you home?”

“No…I’m actually at the police department.”

“Well… I don’t see why we couldn’t meet up again,” You said, the heat rising to your face from your belly. Butterflies overtook your senses- and your brain, “Especially at such a romantic location.”

“We could meet somewhere else,” Carlton offered. You could hear others in the police department working and walking around.

“I’d love that, but if you’re working you should probably stay there. Why’d you go there anyway?”

“I didn’t want to go home yet, and I have a lot of paperwork to get done regarding the Wyles death.”

“I’ve seen that in the papers, very big case you’ve got there Detective.”

“Oh, you've seen it?” Carlton’s voice perked up. You could tell he was prideful about his cases, he wanted to show off his skills. 

“I have, it’s wrapping up soon isn’t it?”

“I’m finishing some aspects of the case now. But we’ll see.”

“Well, Detective,” you started and looked back at your brother and Gus. “As much as I would like to see you again, I don’t want to get in the way of your work. How about tomorrow morning? Want to get breakfast?”

“I’d like that.”

“Perfect,” you smiled and took a deep breath. “I haven’t lived here in a while but one of my favorite breakfast places is here, it was amazing as a child, I hope it's still good, if you’d like to meet there?”

“Absolutely, send me the address?”

“Right away, tomorrow at 8?”

“See you then,” Carlton said and hung up before you could say anything else. You jumped up from the desk, a big smile on your face. You held your phone tight to your chest and spun around to observe Shawn and Gus in the same spots you left them in. You took a deep breath and calmed down, returning to the room and sitting back down. 

“Everything good?” Shawn asked. 

“More than good,” you smiled and started to eat your dinner again. “I have a date tomorrow morning.”

~Embrace the deception~

You sat at the wire table that was outside of the cafe you grew up with. You and your mom came to this cafe all the time before you moved to Colorado. You looked at the time, 8:05. You weren’t worried- but for a Detective to not be on time? That was concerning. You had ordered two glasses of water and then ordered your go-to drink as you waited for Carlton to show up. You had picked up a copy of the Mirror, Santa Barbara’s main news source, for reliable information and you were reading through it. You frowned slightly when you saw that Carlton wasn’t in the paper at all. You flipped through the rest of the paper and reached the comic section. You sipped on your drink and smiled lightly at some of the comics. You checked the time again, 10 minutes had passed. You sighed and grabbed your phone, seeing if you had any missed calls. Shawn had texted you at 5:00 AM, something about a mummy escaping a museum, and was asking if you wanted to help him and Gus if you had the time. Flipping your phone open, you texted Shawn back, letting him know you could swing by the office later. You switched over to your texts with Carlton to make sure you sent the right address. Everything looked correct in your texts and you felt defeated. “Need a refill, ma’am?” the server came over to you and offered a small smile. You smiled back and nodded. 

“Yes please, I’ll hold out hope for a little longer.”

~Learn how to bend~

Carlton panicked when he saw the time. Everything had gotten away from him after he got called to the museum this morning. And then having to see Spencer so early- it was just one thing after another. He had noticed the time after Karen had informed himself and O’hara that she would be stepping down as Chief. He grabbed his keys and left the precinct, rushing to his car to get to your breakfast place. He was relieved when your breakfast place was close to the precinct, maybe you two could get more breakfast here- if he didn’t mess anything up with this date. He may or may not have broken some speed laws to get to you. He threw his car in park and jumped out, locking it quickly behind him. He looked down at his watch, 8:20. How had he been so careless? He hoped that you would still be there, although in his heart he knew you wouldn’t be. He rounded the corner and saw you. He slowed down a little bit, walking a normal pace as he took you in. You were stunning, he didn’t expect you to become more beautiful when he saw you in daylight. He noted the sad expression your face held. You looked at your watch and then looked around you, trying to find Carlton. He felt himself stumble when you finally saw him. The light in your eyes was bright and the smile you had on your face made his heart skip a beat. 

This was bad for Carlton, not because you were bad or anything, he just felt himself falling harder and harder for you, it wasn’t going to take long until you consumed his every thought. You stood up as Carlton walked into the cafe’s patio area and walked over to you. You embraced him in a tight hug and Carlton’s heart sped up more than he thought possible. “Thought you stood me up for a second there,” you laughed lightly and ended the hug, quickly sitting back down in your chair. 

“I was shocked to see you here still,” Carlton admitted, feeling terrible about being late. 

“Well, even if you didn’t show up, I couldn’t pass up my favorite breakfast,” you joked and smiled at him. “I read the paper today, but didn’t see anything about the case you’ve been working on.”

“I noticed that too,” he glanced over at your open paper, seeing the comic section. He smiled at that and looked back at you. “I’m sorry about being late. We got called out at 4 AM for an emergency case. I was still at the office, working on the reports for the Wyles case.”

“Explains why you look the same from last night,” you teased and the waitress came over. She had a smile on her face, seemingly happy that Carlton didn’t stand you up. Carlton ordered a coffee and you both ordered breakfast, you knew what you wanted and Carlton knew he wanted something simple. 

“Yeah, today has been something of a headache. The assistant curator believes that this ancient mummy got out of its case and left the museum. She was set on the fact that it was ‘supernatural’. She insisted we bring in the resident idiot of the PD Shawn Spencer,” Carlton explained and he thought he saw you almost choke on your drink.

“Resident idiot?”

“Yeah, claims he’s a psychic but I don’t buy it. However, we had to call him and of course, he had to agree with the assistant curator.”

“So the psychic believes the mummy came back to life?”

“Unfortunately yes. Luckily, I still have to focus on the Wyles case, so while we wait for DNA results, I can focus on the true detective work, while he wastes his time,” Carlton took a sip of his coffee and noticed your smile. You hadn’t stopped looking at him or smiling since he got there, and all he’s done is complain. 

“Well, at least you won’t have to see him much. Hopefully at least. What else happened this morning?”

“Actually…” Carlton started, unsure if he should tell you or not. “My Chief, Chief Vick, told me and my partner today that on Friday she would be stepping down at Chief.”

“That’s interesting. Did she say why exactly?”

“Only that when she became interim chief she made a deal with the mayor that she wouldn’t always have the ‘interim’ title.”

“Oh I see, I didn’t realize she was in a temporary position.”

“It was supposed to become her full position, but it was taking too long for her liking, so she essentially gave the mayor an ultimatum and he never responded, so she’s stepping down.”

“Is the position open then?”

“It's a very political position unfortunately, so from what I understand the mayor already has someone else picked out,” Carlton sighed, and right when he was done talking, your server came over with your food. You both thanked her and started to eat your food. 

“How do you feel about that?”

“I was a little disappointed. I mean Karen is a great Chief, I’m sad to be losing her. But it's also frustrating that there’s no chance of anyone in the Santa Barbra Police Department who would be able to apply.” You hummed in response and took a bite of your food. 

“You would apply?”

“I think I would,” Carlton agreed and looked at you while you thought and ate. He couldn’t get over how beautiful you were. Your eyes were some of the prettiest he’d ever seen. He could get lost in your conversations so easily. 

“That changed from last night,” Carlton felt called out by you and he just smiled. “I never expected the opportunity to present itself so soon.”

“It may not mean much, but I do support you in wanting Chief,” Carlton heard the honesty in your voice and felt himself get lightheaded. Yeah. He was in trouble. He swallowed hard and quickly drank some coffee to hide his face before it got red. 

“How was your work week?” Carlton asked, quickly changing the subject off of him.

“It was good,” you smiled and continued to eat your food. “Nothing too crazy, it’s kind of hard right now since I’m still gaining clients, but I believe this upcoming week I’ve got three or four new clients.”

“How many would you have in Colorado?”

“It depended on the day, but typically my days would be full. Seven to eight clients a day.”

“Was it ever overwhelming?”

“Sometimes, sure. But most times it was manageable. Of course, there would be the few with a lot of trauma that would leave me feeling drained, especially any first responders that came to me.”

“Do you have any first responders here?”

“None yet, but you know how it is. There’s a stigma with this stuff and especially with first responders there's the fear that therapy will make you look weak. I saw it all the time with my mom and dad.”

“I heard we’re having a psychiatrist come in and perform evals on some officers. Not sure who is going to have to participate yet. Do you know who’s coming?” Carlton asked. He hoped it was you. He wanted to show you around the police department and introduce you to O’Hara and Karen. If you had worked with first responders before, you could possibly work in the department full-time.

“I’m not. There are so many different psychiatrists in this one area, and if the department is getting someone from out of state, then I don’t know,” you answered and leaned back in your chair. You looked at Carlton and when you made eye contact with him you smiled. Carlton smiled back and took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was gonna say but then his phone started ringing. 

“Sorry,” he muttered and grabbed it to see it was O’Hara.

“We’re gonna have to start muting our phones when we’re together,” you joked and he smiled at you before answering the phone. His voice went deeper as he spoke to his partner. 

“Lassiter,” he answered and his eyes darted away from your face to look down at the ground. O’Hara gave Carlton some run-down information about the Wyles case and the case that Spencer was working on. “You need me now?” he asked, slightly dreading the answer. He frowned when O’Hara said yes. He hung up the phone after mumbling “I’ll be right there”. He looked at you. You were still smiling but he could see the sadness in your face. Carlton opened his mouth to speak. 

“It’s okay, it's what I get for seeing a cop,” you laughed and stood up. He stood up too and you gave him another hug. “Go arrest some bad guys already, you gotta keep me interested somehow.” Carlton wrapped his arms around you and held you tight. 

“I wanna take you to dinner,” he blurted out and you could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest. 

“I can’t promise what the next work week entails. How’s next Saturday sound?” you offered and he nodded against your head.

“I can work with that.”

“If it works, maybe we can do an impromptu breakfast or lunch again,” you pulled away from the hug and looked into his blue eyes. He smiled and nodded. Carlton wanted so desperately to kiss you, but he knew he needed to wait. 

“We’ll keep in touch,” he stated and pulled away. He went to grab his wallet to pay for breakfast but you stopped him.

“Get going already,” you laughed and stepped away from him. “I’ve got this covered, you just plan on taking care of dinner.” Carlton smiled and started to walk away. 

“Bye, (Y/n).”

“Bye, Carlton.”

Chapter 4.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@capitanostella:)

[justanothergoldfish]

Greg Lestrade x reader

Handsome stranger - part two -

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

warnings: swearing, drinking

words: 2200

A/N: there will be a third part. I love Greg too much. Also in this part, reader is definitely written from a female POV. If i hear one complaint about my interpretation of Scottish English I'm burning down the internet.

---

It didn't take long for your boss to show up at the bar after that interaction. 

“Seriously? Ain't he a wee old for a lassie like you?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing together. With a feign look of innocence you shrugged, “What are you talking about?”

“I heard ya, young lady. Drooling over that poor fella.”

Hearing him call you out so shamelessly made it impossible to stay serious and to not grin like an idiot. 

“Oh can't I have some fun? Hey, maybe he'll tip nicely, alright? I'm just… boosting your business. Sales, you know?”

Gary rolled his eyes and shook his head, and you could almost hear him think ‘You're a hopeless case’ as he nudged towards the kitchen. “Go help the lad in the back, aye? I'll take it from here.”

You too rolled your eyes and clicked your tongue. “Hey, just to make this clear; men are like wine, they get better with age. Guess you might've gone bad.” you groaned in annoyance, throwing the linen cloth from your apron onto the counter before heading into the kitchen.

“Oi, remember who's paying your bills, lassie!” Gary called after you, his voice a bit elevated, earning a huff from you. It was all friendly banter, but it still made you pout, not to be able to serve Greg and have some fun conversation. You had been looking forward to another chat with this gorgeous man from London, he seemed… Interesting. 

~

After what felt like a thousand peeled potatoes later, Gary returned and slumped himself into a corner in the kitchen. 

“I feared the day would come…bloody shite…” he mumbled, looking pale as a ghost. The man shook his head, staring into the steamy kitchen air. 

Without looking at him, you already guessed what happened. “What's wrong? Someone discovered that the ‘monster’ is just a hungry dog you've sat out in the forest?” 

Gary's eyes drifted over to you. “That fella you've been drooling over… He's an Inspector.”

Oh shit. 

Instant panic broke out internally at his revelation and you basically dropped everything. “A Health Inspector? Bloody christ Gary, I don't have a fucking food or beverage certification! I'm only supposed to help you out until you find someone else! What am I supposed to do?!” you hissed, crouching down in front of him. 

Gary sighed and waved it off. “Not a Health Inspector. A Detective from Scotland Yard.”

Was that better or worse? 

It took a few moments to calm down and collect your thoughts. 

“So? What now?” 

With a groan, Gary buried his face in his hands.  “We told him everything, I can never look that man in the eyes again… He's only staying for one night, aye?”

You got back up and crossed your arms. 

A Detective from Scotland Yard? This man got more interesting by the minute. 

“Looks like I'll take it from here again. I'll make sure he’ll have a pleasant time and won’t close down your business.”

~

As you came to the front, you saw Greg leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone. He nipped on his beer and locked his phone as you approached with light steps. Even though he had scared the shit out of the owner, he seemed so… relaxed. 

Once you cleared your throat you decided to speak up to him again. 

“So… You're a Detective? Is that what brought you here? Are we in trouble?” you tried to jest as he locked his phone and gave a reassuring smile.” I'm on holiday, no need to panic. I think the owner’s already learned his lesson and if I learned one thing in life it's to never mess with a lady who pours my beer.”

The way his eyes creased when he carried that beaming smile, it was honestly heartwarming. 

“You're a smart man then.” you chuckled, grabbing a small chestnut wood bowl and filling it with a bag of mixed nuts and crackers from one of the cabinets. 

“So, a Detective from London, all the way out here in the Dartmoor in our humble village,” you grabbed a tall glass and poured him another, noticing his drink was nearly finished, “You probably brought some exciting stories along. Care to share?”

Greg huffed as he supported himself on the counter with both arms in front of his chest and adjusting his seat on the barstool. “Rather gory than glory, trust me. Sure you can handle it?”

The teasing smirk on his face made your heart flutter and cheeks redden as you tried to contain yourself and served him his beer and the complimentary snack bowl. 

“You surely know the key to a man's heart. Thank you, love.”

Greg took a few peanuts, juggling him in his hand ever so slightly. 

"You'll probably hate me for questioning you about your job on your holiday, but I have to know. Have you ever seen a dead body?”

Greg munches on his peanuts as he nods along. Knowing that the hotel owner would scold you for just standing around and chatting, you decided to clean up a bit and do some side work during the talk.

“I've seen some, yeah. Part of the job.” He finally says after swallowing. 

From one of the drawers you gathered a bunch of paper towels and a tray of cutlery. Rolling silverware seemed like a perfect task to do right now, surely the conversation would make this eternally hated task probably more bearable.

Greg observed your hands working on the roll-ups with precision and skill as he took one of the crackers into his mouth, chewing on it while watching you.

“So, did you ever… shoot someone?” you asked, spreading out the next paper towel. 

For a moment, he went back into his thoughts. He chewed on the inside of his cheek before taking a sip of his beer. With the back of his hand he wiped off the foam from his upper lip and gave a half nod, half headshake. 

“Fire a gun at someone, yes. Killed someone, no. I think that answers your question?”

You raised your eyebrows and agreed with a simple nod before moving on to the next question. “Can I see your ID?”

The man grinnes and grabbed another peanut from his bowl, “You've seen it already.”

“Aw, not your personal ID, your police ID, you know what I mean” you mused. 

He chuckled as he reached into the inner pocket in the lining of his jacket and got it out, holding it up in front of your face.

“Wow…  Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade… Scotland Yard…“ you read off the card quietly, seemingly impressed before looking back up to him, meeting his brown eyes. 

“It's not as impressive as you think. Lots of paperwork” Greg explained as he stuffed his ID back into his inner pocket and straightened his jacket afterwards. 

“But- my turn to ask a question. I don't even know your name.”

“Then find out? You're a Detective working for Scotland Yard, I'm sure you've got your sources.” 

His expression instantly gave away that he was more than up for the challenge, despite being on holiday it seemed to be worth the effort. 

“Good, give me until tomorrow morning’” Greg grinned, looking at you all over again. Now that made your cheeks flush a bit, hopefully not enough to be noticeable in the dim light of the bar.  His smile made you completely forget about his age for a moment. Not that you truly cared. He was a fine man with an exciting job and probably made good money, what was not to like? 

You tried to get a glance at his hands as discreetly as possible. 

No ring, good. But it was visible that he'd been wearing one until recently.

Maybe that was your chance to get to know him better personally. 

“So, why does a handsome detective go on vacation all on his own?”

Greg can't help but smile bitterly to himself at your words, fidgeting with the beer glass in his hands. He felt flattered by your words, and after divorcing his wife, your words were like a balm to his sore heart. 

“Handsome, huh? Can't say I've heard that in a while” he said almost sheepishly before taking a deep breath, staring at the foam of his beverage for a moment. 

“Yes, i uh.. I'm divorced. Just happened a few months ago.”

You saw the sorrow creeping up in his face and tried to offer a shoulder to cry on as you sat away the tray of rolled silverware. 

“You know, bartenders are perfect to pour your heart out to, if you wanna get it off your chest?”

Greg hummed, his eyes scanning the liquors on the wall behind you. 

“Need something stronger for the nerves beforehand?” you asked, already reaching for a shot glass. 

He couldn't help but smile at your words, “You're a mind reader, my dear. Pour me anything.” 

After scanning through the variety of liquors the bar had to offer, you filled the shot glass with a clear, yellowish liquid and set it down in front of the Detective before returning to your tasks. 

Without any hesitation, the man downed his drink in one go and licked the excess off his lips. 

“That's a good one. Elderflower?”

You nodded and let him reach the empty shot glass over to get it cleaned in the sink. “Owner made it himself last year. Tastes awfully sweet but don't underestimate the alcohol.” 

“You've got quite the taste, eh? Well… pouring my heart out to a bartender, I'm not gonna pass on that opportunity.” He braced himself mentally and propped up an elbow on the counter, his warm eyes drifting off as he started to explain. 

“Been married for years, but due to the job, my ex-wife and I sort of drifted apart. We've been fighting constantly, thought it was getting better only to find out she…”

As hard as he tried to say it out loud, the words just got stuck in his throat. Not that he had to finish the sentence for you to understand. You shook your head, not understanding why people were that way. 

That was fucked up. And as hard as he tried to find his words, you tried to be empathetic but couldn't help to automatically think out loud “What a bitch.”

Greg blinked a few times at your blatant words before the corners of his mouth curled up into a smile. He'd always felt his heart break at the thought of his failed marriage, feeling like it was his fault. He should've had more time for her, he should've showed her how much he loved her, but for the first time, he saw it all from a different perspective as you continued, “Communication problems or struggling to sort out your work - life balance don't justify cheating. Nothing does.”

You cleaned his shot glass and set it away to dry, still shaking your head. You kept on rambling about how wrong this all was, and it made him change the entire way he'd felt about this divorce prior to this conversation. 

Once you noticed how quiet he'd gotten, you too stopped talking and mustered him for a moment. He didn't say anything for a while, he just stared at his glass with a smile, realizing the final straw, his ex-wife's infidelity, was her choice. He never wanted to fight, he never wanted to neglect her or make her feel unloved. 

For the first time since the divorce he could look back at the situation without feeling like a miserable man who had thrown away his marriage himself. Your words had made him realize that this wasn't on him. 

“Greg? Are you alright?”

Finally, his eyes met yours, the outer corners of them creasing as he gave you a warm, honest smile. 

“Pour me two more of those shots, love” he said with an undertone of relief. 

So you did. Two more shots, onto the counter.

He took one of them and gestured for you to grab the other one for yourself. 

“Oh, I can't, not while I'm on shift-”

“Noone's looking. I'm off duty, I won't arrest you.” he says with a reassuring nudge to the other shot. 

If your boss knew… 

Ah, screw it. 

So you looked left and right quickly before clinking your glass against his, hoping no one would ever find out about it. 

“Atta girl. To the gorgeous, wise lady pouring my drinks.” he mumbled in a low volume before both of you downed your shot, while his words almost had you choking on the drink. 

He sat down his glass with a sigh and mustered you with care. “You know darling, I think I should come around more often."

[mugiwarameme]

stuff my villagers have said to me ; assorted dialogue from my animal crossing: new horizons villagers. feel free to change anything as needed <3

❝ i wonder if something fun’ll happen today?! it could! any old second… any time now… i’m so excited. ❞

❝ we’re gonna be the bestest friends that ever friended! ❞

❝ guessssss. WHAT. i have something I TOTES, TOTAL, TOTALLY need to tell you. ❞

❝ hi, [name]! what a coinkydink, running into you here! ❞

❝ CHOO-AHHH! wait, that’s not right… ugh…. it may be too late for me. ❞

❝ ha HA! we meet again! or did that first meeting happen in my dream? ❞

❝ no time for questions! only following! ❞

❝ um… i didn’t brainstorm. it sounded kind of scary. ❞

❝ this place is SUPER good for chilling. you can chill for hours or even days. i’ve done it! ❞

❝ i got an idea, let’s be friends forever. i mean, if you don’t have anything else on your schedule? ❞

❝ sweet sassy peach lassi… STOP THAT! ❞

❝ huh? now hang on, if i squint and stare… and stare… oh yeah, that’s just you, [name]. ❞

❝ this would be the perfect day for a photo shoot on the beach… just me, my camera, and my pouty lips. ❞

❝ i’m always takin’ quick naps. zzz… zzz… zzzzzz… like that! ❞

❝ you won’t think less of me for this, will you? honestly, i wouldn’t blame you if you did. ❞

❝ can you guess what i’m going? i… am… a huh huh huh… i’m sitting. ❞

❝ it’s my second time running into you today! the first was in your dreams! sorry, i wandered in by accident. ❞

❝ anyway, back to my question. if we’re having that for dinner, can we have [insert desert] for desert? ❞

❝ don’t go around looking in places you shouldn’t, ‘k? because, like, it could be… well, i totally don’t want to say anything incriminating, buuuut…. hands in your pockets, please. ❞

❝ yeah, go right ahead! i love havin’ someone to talk to about this stuff. no one else really GETS it, ya know? ❞

❝ guess what? i was playing single-player hide-and-seek, and i won! i am so bored. ❞

❝ listen to it when you’re lonely, and think of me. or don’t—i’m not the boss of you. ❞

❝ guess what i want to tell you? one…you’re fab. two… i mean that. three… there is no three! ❞

[alwaysshallow]

can you please write a little blurb about soap comforting reader after a tough day?? (work’s been kicking my butt lately and i constantly think about johnny comforting me to feel better)

You are quiet as possible, when you're searching for any candies in your kitchen counters, trying with all your power to not break apart. It's been a rough couple of days, and what's more to it, you're just tired with life; if you wouldn't be needed anywhere, you'd honestly wrap yourself around a blanket to protect yourself from world.

But you can't do that, and it makes you even more mad, it makes you feel like you burned out in absolutely everything. What's even worse? You, trying to act like everything's okay right in front of your boyfriend for a couple of days.

Either he believes you, or he just decides that you're gonna tell him in the right time, but you're thankful for that anyway; you feel like he has more important things to do than worrying about you having a mental crisis and being exhausted. He's military after all, he probably would think it's a first world problem and—

"You're tensed up." Soap's voice snaps you back to reality, when he hugs you from behind, his face hidden in your neck.

You fake a chuckle, as you shake your head dissmisively. "I'm alright, it's just—"

"—quit it." he murmurs, kissing your skin which tickles under his lips. "Yer like this for a while. What's wrong, lassie?"

And here it goes.

It's like a breaking point, when he finally asks; one sob does it all for him to turn you around, and hug you tightly, as your head is against his broad chest, when you just tell him what is wrong. How everything overwhelms you, how you don't have time for anything you like, how people makes you want to crawl in your bed and never leave.

Comes on him like a tsunami wave, and you suddenly feel bad for making him worry about you. He seems to see right through you, when he pats your back a few times to get your attention.

"What are ya thinkin' bout?"

"How I'm overwhelming you. You have bigger problems, and I—"

"—None of that overthinkin' shite, aye? Look at me." he whispers, his forehead against yours. "You don't overwhelm me, at all. Yer just tellin' me what's been a bother, and that's good. That's why I'm here, yeah? No matter how dumb it sounds to you, I want to know."

"You want to know?"

"Everythin'. Includin' that Cassidy bitch."

He says it with such seriousness that it makes you laugh, and he laughs too, automatically.

"Ain't that hard, eh? And now, we're gonna go to bed, watch some movies, and cuddle."

And it is this way. You pick your favorite romcom, and his arm is around you; it feels like a shield from anything bad that happened to you recently.

His mouth doesn't stop commenting, but you think it's just an excuse, so you could shut up him with a kiss once in a while.

When you do? When you do, he laughs into your lips, and brings you even closer, nuzzling into you like into his favorite blanket.

And, somehow, he makes everything alright.

A/N: i hope everything's gonna be alright, baby!!

[gazsluckyhat]

Sarah's House

Eleven - Sports Bra

Masterlist

The fact I thought I could get on a writing schedule is a joke. My brain is mush honestly. Short chapter to fill in. Every chapter can't be a essay.

Price knew he shouldn't take the mission. The outcome seemed obvious, or so he thought. Until he wasn't anymore.

or

Like calls to like. Or something of the sort.

In the weeks that followed everyone seemed to open up a little bit more. Price often sat with Soap and Sarah while he did paperwork and would listen to the Scotsman's tales and teasing's. Sarah's voice chiming in every so often, easing any existing discomfort from that day. Gaz found Simon on days his brain was just a little too much for him, the quiet and reassuring's he'd speak to him better than any therapy he'd had. And Sarah? She was never alone. Not because she couldn't be alone but because there was no reason for her to be. Each night unspoken choices were chosen and no one ended up sleeping alone. Even if it was Simon squeezing into a queen matress with Soap's starfish ass. No one was alone.

"I have some news." File in hand, Gaz slipped into the breakfast table beside Sarah and Soap. He put the file in the middle towards Sarah. The name across it was familiar. KND. It was home. A joke that had stuck.

"Kate contacted some old friends and we were able to track down everyone who was on your team. Where've they gone and so forth. You don't have to open it now. But it's here if you want it." She looked around at the boys sitting there. Each giving her their own version of a uplifting smile. Nerves licked her senses as she used the tips of her fingers to drag the folder to her.

"Are they all okay?" Gaz nodded. His hand taking hers.

"Several are now partners with several wounded and missing warrior projects in your name." Her heart clinched. She shook her head.

"Not right now." And that was that. The boys didn't prod her and the day continued like normal.

"You're making amazing progress Sarah." Gerard smiled at her. Sweat sat on her hairline and slid down the back of her shirt. Peaking a look at Soap she noticed that he too seemed to be out of breath, maybe even a tad more than her. She smiled at that. The tops of her thighs burned from the stretching and her shoulders ached for a nice rub. But more so she ached for Soap. He looked extra devilish in a grey t-shirt that was stuck to him with sweat and a pair shorts that clung to his hips. Gerard had been true to his word and not once touched her. Instructed each of the boys on how to hold her and stretch her muscles out. He also never questioned the rotation of the boys. And as much as she enjoyed the doctor she would much rather the boys stretch her in other ways.

"Ay, leaps and bounds." Soap smiled proudly at her and it only increased the blood flow to her pussy. She wanted nothing more than to have him squeezing her throat and growling in her ear.

"Next week, can we- can we try you and I?" Her cheeks flamed and she saw the question in Soap's eyes. Gerard nodded.

"As long as you're comfortable. I'd like one of the boys to be present just in case you need to tap out, okay? Just for your safety." Sarah nodded. She then said her goodbyes and yanked Soap through the building. At the car she let him go and climbed into the car.

"Are you a'right?" He turned her face so she was holding eye contact with him.

"Of course. Why?" He looked at her, studied the look in her eyes.

"Did I do somethin in there?" She shook her head. "You don't want us thouchin' you here?" Her cheeks flamed again.

"No no no, It's the opposite of that!" He leaned back in the seat. "Having all of you there and being the ones touching me and guiding me turns it into more than therapy." A sly grin took over his lips.

"Is that so lassie? Got your knickers in a twist, have we?" Heat roared down her spine.

"Mmm, Soap. You don't understand how bad I just wanted you to fuck me." He was pulling out of the parking lot instantly, didn't even wait until she was buckled up.

Ten minuets later they pulled into the parking deck of a nondescript building and into the darkest corner he could find. Out of all the boys Soap was the one that surprised her the most when it came to sex. Of course he was constantly in the mood but he wasn't the one always wanting a quickie. No, that was Price. Soap took his time. Teased her and made her beg before fucking her into tomorrow. So when he started yanking her into the back seat she was shocked.

"What are you doing?" She squeaked when he tugged her shirt up. His eyes dark with hunger. His fingers made quick work of her sports bra and the leggings she'd picked.

"I want you. Right here and right now." And so he had her. Pushing her back onto the bench seat and tugging her legs over his shoulders. As much as he wanted to lick and taste her he needed to have her wrapped around him. "So fuckin' warm."

"Mmm. Soap." He yanked her head back by her hair, forcing her to look at him.

"Name's Johnny, lassie. Better remember it. It's all you're gonna be saying." Sarah moaned loudly. She knew it was nicknames but to hear his name while he runied her was other worldly. His teeth nipped at her neck and shoulder as she sobbed his name. Hands threaded into his mohawk. Johnny had the tendency to overstimulate her for fun. Loved to watch her squirm and writhe under him. He pulled several orgasms' out of her before he even let himself feel it. But right now, right now he was hanging on by a thread. The air in the car was stuffy and hot as both their bodies became slick with sweat. Her chest pressed right agaisnt his. His fingers leaving imprints in her thighs as he bullied his way into her. Sarah could feel that pull in her belly. That familiar heat that creeped it's way up her spine.

"Mmm. John-johnny. Gonna-nna cum." Her nails pinched his skin as she began to tighten around him. Her pussy milking him.

"Fuck!" He wasn't gonna last. Not with her whimpering in his ear and how tight she was around him. He could feel her tipping over the edge. Couldn't hold on himself.

"Fuckkk!" She was shaking, her body convulsing under him. Johnny didn't even have time to pull out. His body spilling into hers before he collapsed on top of her. Sarah felt it then. This encompassing feeling of warmth. Safety. Home. Something she'd began to feel when she was with the boys. She felt it with Gaz when he'd make breakfast with her in the morning. Price when he'd let her sit in his lap and tell her about his paperwork or past missions. And with Simon it was whenever they'd watch the telly. His body relaxed and pliant. He'd run his hand through her hair. They were her safe space.

"'m not squishing ya' am i?" His voice was muffled agaisnt her skin. She couldn't help but chuckle. Johnny and Gaz were the two she found herself joking with the most. Always had something funny to say and had to be touching he at all times. She chocked it up to Price and Simon's past. Simon had told her a bit of his but she refused to pry. They'd not once forced her to open up.

"No." And they laid there. Hearts beating in sync. "I think I'm falling in love." Johnny stilled. Fear in his mouth.

"Bonnie.."

"All of you. I'm in love with all of you." Pride replaced the fear.

[pinazee]

Black and Tan: A Crime of Fashion

The MELANIE LYNSKY episode! (Or at least thats what i call it. upon seeing her on screen for 0.2 seconds i knew she was going to get pretty big. She’s such a phenomenal actress.) I honestly lowkey shipped her with shawn. She was so sweet and i feel like it brought out some of the sweet in shawn too. Shes also a character i wish would come back one day, like they do a murder mystery movie and they’re on her yacht or something idk shes really good friends with them all still, they could make it happen :)

Lassie has given up. He has resigned himself to his fate that Shawn will always be up in his shit for the rest of eternity.

LOOK HOW MUCH FUN DULÉ IS HAVING HERE! OHMYGOD HE FUCKING KILLED ME IN THIS EP!

why am i surprised he knows the name of the model in downtown Santa Barbara and is a huge fan? Im starting to see why Gus is single. He gets way too obsessed, but also, Shawn wasn’t kidding when he told that one chick he was willing to change everything about himself. This also adds a nice layer to Gus’s character because we see part of him wants that exclusivity and prestige. He wants to feel like someone others admire, which is brilliantly contrasted with Shawns more down to earth not really caring what others think vibes.

And speaking of contrasts, i love this bit; not only because its funny, but because it feels like a great metaphor for how shawn and gus approach life. Gus is trying so hard to win and Shawn doesn’t care and the outcome is the same.

And i think its so funny whenever Gus gets so obsessed with whatever world their exploring hes pretty much useless and Shawn has to be the rational one.

Every once in a while psych will do this POV shot in shawns perspective thats not being used to point out a clue and i think its really cool. I wish they would have done some more like it because its such a great way to show how shawns constantly aware of his surroundings even when he’s not on a case.

And this was brilliant! It has to be one of the best psych-outs in all of of Psych! Fucking legendary!

And this was brilliant too!

I felt so bad for shawn, playing middle man between henry and karen (which is the most unprofessional thing shes done haha), but it gave henry and shawn one of their best scenes at the end when henry is practically begging shawn to understand, like you can almost sense that he wants to confess right there that it was maddie who abandoned the family not him (or maybe im seeing that because i know its the truth. 🤷‍♀️) and shawn just doesn’t want to deal with it. Its interesting that henry was dragging shawn into it though, like he was using it as a way to see if shawn was okay with it now, cause otherwise he could have asked his friends right? It didn’t have to be shawn.

Honestly it shouldn’t have been. He knew it made him uncomfortable and he kept telling him to stop asking, but like always henry pushed it.

(Oh and also this kind of adds to the mystery of how well karen and henry know each other because she seems keenly invested in it, plus, when her friend told her he left a message she said that sounded like henry. So she must know him well enough that she can say this casually. Sidenote: that moment karen opens the door and Shawn looks horrified was priceless!)

Lastly, its interesting that shawn is proud to have never been in therapy when his mom is a psychologist. I feel like she would have instilled in him a better understanding of what therapy does and that its not something to be ashamed of. Likely the writers just hadn’t figured out maddies profession yet, but still.

P.S Everyone look at his jaw!

[roping-riding-wrangling]

Chapter Three: I Am A Rock

He opens the backpack and retrieves several photos. You can’t help but look at the pages and a gasp breaks from your lips. “Jonathan, what is this?”

“Y/n,” he responds quietly.

“Y/n, this is what happens when creeps are given too much freedom and no consequences.” Steve tells you, jaw hardening

“That's not…” Jonathan trails off. 

Summary: turns out running on barely an hour of sleep has consequences. Y/n goes for a drives, gossips, meets Steve (not just him staring at her from across the parking lot) and has a mental breakdown!

Previous Chapter

words: 4k

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of death, swearing, stalking, mentions of sex, nonconsensual pictures, Steve Harrington being an asshole, sleep deprivation and its effects

The alarm clock reads 12:08 am. You toss and turn, fluff your pillows, tighten your blanket around you but nothing eases the stress. Your dad had long since gone to bed so putting on a record was out of the question. You hadn’t written in a journal in months and you weren’t keen to start now. It was far too late to go on a jog. You glance at the clock again. 12:10 am. 

“Fuck”

Your contemplation hadn’t even passed the time. Throwing the blankets off, you huff up from the bed. The carpeted floors protect your feet from the cold. Feeling around in the dark, you open your dresser and pull out a pair of wool socks to brave the hardwood of the rest of the house. You step into the hallway, using the light from the living room lamp to illuminate your path. As quietly as possible, you fill the kettle and set it on the stove. You glance to your left and spot your book from where you’d left it in the morning. 

You’d honestly forgotten about it, but realize that this could be exactly what you need to settle your mind. As you wait for the water to warm up, you lean against the counter and use the soft  stove light to read. You’ve made it two chapters farther by the time the water gets hot enough. 

Armed with your tea and book, you set yourself up on the couch. Honestly, for being a paperback romance, A Pirate’s Love was rather compelling. Anastasia’s character arc wasn’t too bad. You suppose that of stock female leads, she did have a fair bit of agency. And her friendship with the pirate Robert made their romance seem pretty natural. You did doubt how historically accurate it was that Anastasia would have become the captain of a ship after only a year at sea. 

In no time, you were nearing the end of the book. 

“Well? What shall it be?” Captain Jones yelled at Anastasia, “your ship or your love?” at the last word, his blade pressed into Robert’s back, pushing him farther along the plank and pulling a strangled cry from the man. “No!” Anastasia roared, caught in the helpless situation. If she saved Robert, Captain Jones would seize immediate control of her ship and crew. Her hard-won freedom would slip from her fingers and everything she had sacrificed would be for naught. 

But if she chose her ship, she would lose Robert. Robert, who’d been her ticket out of the arranged marriage. Robert, who’d first taught her how to sail. Robert, who had been the only person by her side for the past 3 years. The man she loved, whom she was not sure she could navigate this or any other life without.

“Tick tock, lassie,” drawled captain Jones. He wickedly sneered at the woman, and she couldn’t help but be disgusted at the rotting teeth and sickly skin. 

Anastasia was frozen in panic. All she could do was flit her eyes between Jones, Robert, and her crew. Landing her eyes on Robert, he stared at her, lips a small, almost resigned frown. 

He took a step farther on the plank. 

“Robert! No!” cried Anastasia. 

“Let me make the choice easy, my love”

With that, Robert, quick as a rabbit, turned around, grabbed hold of captain jones, and pulled him tight to himself. He then used all his might and hurled them off the plank, together.

You slam the book shut. “What the fuck” you whisper. You had managed to get lost within the story, but the ending made you remember everything you were trying desperately to forget. You beeline for the trash and angrily throw the book in there. “Shit,” you say aloud, wringing out your hands, desperate to shake off the stress. 

You sneak a peek at the oven clock–it's just past 2 am. You feel trapped and the walls are moving in on you and the shadows look darker and your hands feel clammy and a bead of sweat trickles down your back and– you need to get out of here. You slide on your sneakers by the door, grab your keys and leave and quickly and quietly as you can. 

The ignition in your truck stalls a minute and the panic begins to set in again. You turn the key once more, and finally the engine starts. You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding and back out of the driveway. 

The windows are down and cold air hits your face. Normally, you’d recoil at the aggressive wind and biting cold, but now they are welcome distractions from the turmoil in your mind. The only sound is the rushing of the air. At the first red light, you reach into your glovebox and randomly pull a cassette out. You shove it into the port, not paying attention to it, and turn the volume up to overcome the noises of the truck. A familiar guitar melody lets you know you’re listening to Simon and Garfunkel.

Satisfied with the music, you blast down the roads of Hawkins, singing (screaming) along to the lyrics. As the songs continue, you recognize this as a mixtape you made a few years ago. You’d just gotten a tape recorder and the quality reflects your inexperience with the machine. There’s a clear switch when your dad had clearly taken over the recording, the audio suddenly becoming much clearer. In your mindless driving, you’ve ended up at lake Jordan. You park your car, head no longer swimming. You turn your truck off, and grateful at your earlier forgetfulness, grab your walkman from the passenger seat and the cassette from the deck, as well as Jonathan’s jacket. 

Out in the darkness, you lie in the bed of your truck, Jonathan’s jacket wrapped around you, staring up at the stars. You don’t recognize any constellations, but you attempt to make some up. A snake, a butterfly, a gun–no, not a gun, a vase. A vase with a flower in it. 

Side A ends, but when you flip the tape, it takes longer than normal for it to start playing. You pull the headphones around your neck and hold up the walkman trying to inspect it. 

The crack of a twig pierces through the dark silence. You would almost miss it, if not for the headphones on your ears. After a beat, you don’t hear anything else, and assume it's probably an animal somewhere in the woods. You give up on your walkman and, finally tired, you return to the cabin of your truck and begin the journey home. 

If you hadn’t had your music so loud, you probably would’ve heard the monstrous roar coming from the trees. 

––––––

You manage to get an hour of sleep before your morning alarm goes off. The coffee is twice as strong this morning and you down a cup and a half. The chilly air that you’d normally detest is, for the second time today, welcome as it keeps you awake on your drive. Tonight, you vow, you will actually get a decent night’s sleep. 

Practice is uneventful. Stacy, the only other junior on the team, asks for a few tips for diving and landing on her knees. You give her the pointers she asked for, albeit through several yawns. She seems to understand it though, and acts on your guidance, picking up the skills rather easily. Throughout the final scrimmage, you and her take turns saving the ball from hitting the floor. 

In the locker room, you’re one of the first to hit the showers and miraculously, the water is warm. You wipe the sweat and grime of the gym off your body and take a few extra seconds to hold your head under the showerhead, letting the water hit your face. 

Your wet hair sticks to your face as you get dressed, mindlessly listening to the idle chit-chat of the locker room. You have a few minutes before the bell will ring, so you sit on the floor against your locker and pull out your walkman. Removing the mixtape, you replace it with a cassette from your backpack–some ABBA album. You hit the play button and the tape starts up perfectly. You roll your eyes at how erratic your walkman can be and slip the headphones over your ears. 

Second period is full of notes being passed and whispered shared, despite the quiz. None of the information is shared with you directly, but you manage to overhear two names: Steve and Nancy. It's clearly salacious information, as it has the student body abuzz for the rest of the day. You sneak a glance at Nancy in the hallway and the girl seems distraught. You wonder, for a moment, if she and Steve had broken up, but then he waltzes up to her and plants a kiss on her and you’re left speculating again.

Your curiosities are finally answered in seventh period. Mr. Burkhart lets the class have an independent study day (you’re pretty sure he just doesn’t have anything planned) and Stacy, who sits next you, chats your ear off. Stacy seems to know everything going on within the halls of Hawkins. “And then I heard from from Anna P, who heard from Jimmy, who heard from Gareth, who overheard Tommy H that apparently Nancy Wheeler spent the night in Steve’s room, if you know what I mean,” she wiggles her eyebrows, insinuating the not-so-family-friendly activities that went on between the couple. 

“How does Tommy H even know that?” you ask her.

“Apparently, he was there.”

“What, like, in the room?”

“No! He saw them go into Steve’s room and I guess he heard them totally doing it.”

“That's gross. Like, really gross. Tommy H is a total perv. I bet he was listening at the door.”

“Ew! Y/n, that's gross to even think about.”

“He’s the one going around telling everyone about Steve and Nancy.”

Stacy takes a minute to consider that. 

“Huh, I guess you’re right. Steve’s house is pretty big, I’ve been in it and Tommy H would totally have to try to be listening to hear anything.” She shudders at the thought of the freckled boy trying to hear Steve and Nancy through the wall, “Ew, that’s totally skeezy of him. Especially when his girlfriend was probably there.”

“Carol was probably listening with him.”

Stacy giggles at that. Speaking of Carol, you glance in her direction and subtly stare as she and Nichole huddle together, whispering. You can’t tell what they’re speaking about, but you gather it's something more serious than Steve Harrington’s sexual escapades, if you can tell anything from Carol’s furrowed brow and Nichole’s concerned face. 

You turn back towards Stacy and interrupt her rambling about how gross both Carol and Tommy H are, “Why does anyone care if Steve and Nancy had sex? I mean, Carol and Tommy H practically devour each other in the halls constantly, but no one bats an eye.”

She blinks at that, clearly unprepared for the question. “Um,” she answers, “I don’t know…”

She trails off, and the conversation slowly dies as she flounders trying to find another conversation topic that won’t end as awkwardly. 

You turn your attention back to the two girls on the other side of the classroom. Nichole and Carol both rise from their seats and leave the room. 

Your eyelids once again start drooping, clearly the caffeine from the coke you had at lunch is wearing off. The gentle chatter of the classroom and the whirring of the desk fan lull you into a gentle daze. You quickly ask Stacy to wake you in ten minutes before resting your head on your arms and dozing off. 

A gentle shake wakes you from your nap and you rub the sleep out of your eyes. The power nap helped you, but you doubt you’ll last much longer without more caffeine. You glance over to see the girls have returned at some point during your nap. You get the hall pass from your teacher and make your way to your locker. Grabbing a few bills from your wallet, you beeline for the vending machine. Turning the corner, you crash into a body, and in your tired state, fall to the floor. 

“Oh jeez,” a masculine voice says, “Here, let me just-”

Standing above you, hand outstretched, is Steve Harrington. You stare at him dumbly for a minute before he waves it in front of you and you come to your senses. You grab his hand and he easily hoists you up. 

“Sorry about that,” he chuckles awkwardly, “I didn’t mean to knock you down.”

He gives you an apologetic smile and his eyes crinkle slightly at the edges. 

“It's fine,” you brush off his apology, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Shit!” he exclaims as he looks to his left. You follow his line of sight and see a dented can of coke, slightly leaking. You cringe and offer an apology, which he waves off, “It's fine, I’ll just get another one.”

“I’m uh, headed the same way.” you offer and he nods in response. 

“It's Y/n, right?” he asks.

“Yeah.” you answer warily.

“You’re on the…soccer team?”

“Volleyball, actually.”

“Ah sorry.”

“Its fine”

“How come we’ve never talked before? I know most of the volleyball girls come to my parties. Stacy, Anna, Patty…”

“I’m not really a party person”

“Got it”

The pair of you reach the vending machine and he lets you go first. You deposit your bills, receive your coke and your change. You offer the coins up to Steve, “Here. I kinda killed your first can, so…”

You tense at your own choice of words.

He doesn’t notice though and barks out a laugh. He takes them, inserting them and getting a new coke. “Cheers, killer”

You tense even more at the moniker, but clink your can to his. You down the can as fast as possible while he sips idly. He salutes as you wordlessly leave, walking back to your classroom.

You spend the rest of the period catching up on some of the work you missed yesterday. Stacy peers over your shoulder, nosy as ever, and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Yesterday’s work I missed.”

“Oh yeah! I meant to ask you where you were?”

You turn pale at the probing. You know she means well, but you’ve been avoiding reminders of the incident all day. Still, you answer her, “Benny Hammond, uh, died and I had to go to the police station to give them a statement.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry. I had no clue. God, this town is getting crazy. First the Byers kid, now this,” her voice takes a gentle note, “I can’t believe you came in today. No one would blame you if you missed a day, you know”

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

“I know, I just didn’t want to skip school. Plus I had a quiz in second period today.”

You shrug your shoulders and hope she lets it go. She takes a breath, as if she is going to push the topic but ultimately says nothing. 

The final bell rings and the students flood the halls of Hawkins High School. You rush to your locker, grabbing your bag haphazardly. Groups of students clump together by their cars discussing carpools, gossip, and tonight’s football game. You throw your bag in your truck and fish out Jonathan’s jacket. Glancing around the carpark, you don’t spot him, but you do eye his car and start walking, intending to wait for him. 

Oddly enough, Steve and his friends are also at his car. Gone is Steve’s carefree demeanor from earlier. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pursed, clearly distraught over whatever the group is discussing.

The group tenses as you approach. Steve offers you a curt nod. 

“Whats up, killer?”

You scrunch your brows at the nickname that has unfortunately stuck. 

“I’m just waiting for Jonathan. What are you guys doing?” you ask, warily. There is a sinister air about them, and whatever has transpired in the last 30 minutes has Steve’s hackles raised. He doesn’t answer you, having spotted something over your shoulder that distracts him. He stands from his position on Jonathan’s trunk.

“Hey man.”

Jonathan looks just as confused as you feel. “What's going on?” He asks, eyes flicking between everyone before landing on you. You shrug your shoulders at him. 

Steve responds to the smaller boy, “Nichole was just telling us about some of your work.”

Carol pipes up with a smirk, “We’ve heard great things.”

It seems that Jonathan connects dots that you don’t have, and you feel slightly stupid for being the only one in the group that doesn’t understand what's going on. You grip Jonathan’s jacket tighter in your hands. 

Steve continues, “We’d just love to take a look, you know–as connoisseurs of art.”

Jonathan looks back at you, some unreadable emotion dancing across his face, and attempts to break through the group to get to his car. Unfortunately, Tommy H is quicker than him, and pulls his bag off his shoulder and tosses it to Steve. “Man,” Steve says nastily, “he’s totally tripping, he must have something to hide.”

He opens the backpack and retrieves several photos. You can’t help but look at the pages and a gasp breaks from your lips. “Jonathan, what is this?”

“Y/n,” he responds quietly.

“Y/n, this is what happens when creeps are given too much freedom and no consequences.” Steve tells you, jaw hardening

“That's not…” Jonathan trails off. 

You stare transfixed at the pages in your hand. Barbara Holland sits on the edge of a diving board, a sad look on her face. Nancy Wheeler through the window–shirtless. A familiar pit settles in your stomach. 

Tommy and Carol pull the stack from you and start combing through them. 

“Dude!” Tommy H yells and Carol backs him up, “Yeah this totally isn’t creepy at all.”

Jonathan seems to find his voice and defends himself, “I was looking for my brother.”

“No,” Steve counters, “no, this is called stalking.”

“What’s going on?” a new, gentle voice joins the mix. You look over to see Nancy Wheeler, the focal point of many of Jonathan’s photos. 

“Here comes the starring lady,” Tommy teases.

“What?” she questions

“This creep was spying on us last night,” Carol responds and hands the girl a photo from the bunch, “He was probably going to save this one for later.”

You look down at the jacket in your hands as Carol explains. Last night? That means he was probably just getting done with taking the photos when you found him. Was his empathy a ploy to throw you off of his creepy scent? You thought you knew him fairly well. Hell, he was probably your closest friend. Christ, that’s depressing: a kid you only know fairly well is your closest friend.your train of thought spirals further, spinning farther out of control. Your closest friend, a kid you only know fairly well, is a total creep!

“See, you can tell he knows that it's wrong,” Steve begins laying into the boy, “But that's the thing about perverts. It's hardwired into them, you know, they just can’t help themselves.”

He begins ripping apart the pictures in his hands.

“So you just have to take away his toy.”

The taller boy grabs the camera and you take the tiniest step towards him. You don’t know how you’re going to stop him, and you certainly can’t defend Jonathan’s actions, but breaking the camera would take it too far. 

“Steve,” Nancy clearly has the same sentiment. 

“C’mon man, not the camera,” Jonathan begs.

“Hey, hey ok,” Steve calls out, extending his hand with the camera towards Jonathan. 

There's a split second where you think that the issue has been resolved and Steve has cooled down. Then the camera is in a million pieces on the ground. Jonathan makes a strangled noise. The air is stolen from your lungs. Your feet are frozen to the ground. 

Steve shoulders past the devastated boy, his posse following. He looks back at you, his eyebrow raised– a clear invitation to join them. You stay rooted to your spot, unable to move and his eyes narrow. His clear brown eyes hold a fierceness in them and you know your inaction is a decision to him. 

“Nancy, c’mon!” he beckons her over and she stands from where you hadn’t noticed her collecting pieces of the torn photos. Before she leaves, she stares at you. Her eyes flick to the jacket in your hands. Her blue eyes are wide and slightly watery. They make the rest of her feel that much smaller. Her nose is slightly red from the cold and her lips are pressed in a thin line. She seems so fragile in this moment, like a slightly-too-strong gust of wind could knock her over. Yet there is a quiet resolve behind the ocean in her eyes. She stands firm, torn pieces in hand and gives you a small, barely there nod. She turns heel and plants herself under Steve Harrington’s arm. 

Before they fully leave your eyesight, she looks back at Jonathan sadly. 

Everything seems to process in slow motion for you. You finally look down at the boy, desperately trying to collect the fractured remains of his camera. He looks up at you, unshed tears in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out. You gently lay the jacket on the top of his car and walk away, leaving him alone on the ground of the parking lot. 

––––––

You drive home in silence. This morning you couldn’t escape the onslaught of terrible thoughts and now you can barely form a coherent one. You don’t even bother bringing your bag inside with you when you get home. 

Your dad sits on the couch, reading a magazine. A Simon and Garfunkel song plays on the record–the same one from your now ruined cassette. Wordlessly, you crawl onto the couch with him. He raises an eyebrow but says nothing as you tuck yourself under his arm, curling yourself into a tight ball. Mindlessly, he draws small circles on your arm. 

Your breath catches in your throat, and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. It's the final crack in the dam. You press your face closer to his shoulder in an attempt to muffle your sobs. 

“Oh buddy…” he croons sympathetically, and you just cry harder. You feel him readjust his posture, likely setting down his magazine. You sit up and gulp down a few lungfuls of air. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he prompts. 

“Its all a mess! Benny is dead and now I don’t have a job and I know it's terrible that thats one of my concerns, but it is! And there's missing kids all over town. I don’t know if she is ok and Will Byers– he’s so small. And I realized that today Jonathan is my closest friend but hes a fucking stalker creep and all the kids in school are terrible evil people. And now my friends are either dead, a creep or my dad! How fucked up is that? I just want to go back to Sunday when everything was fine. But nothings fine now and its all fucked and Steve’s right!”

Your rant is punctuated by collapsing back into your dad’s chest. You continue sobbing, wetting the front of his shirt. He holds your head and lets out a string of whispered comforts, “You’re okay. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. Shh shh shh. Just breathe…there you go”

His rhythmic breathing is a balm to you, and you feel your blinks lasting longer and longer. The record ends and he rises to his feet, pulling you with him. Your feet drag as you lean on him. He leads you to your bedroom and lays you down on the bed, removing your sneakers. He lifts the blanket over you and tucks you in, something he hasn’t done since you were twelve. 

You relieve your heavy eyelids and welcome the darkness. He turns off the lamp and you hear a gentle whisper of “Good night buddy” before sleep takes its hold on you. 

Next Chapter

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