#and him having to come to terms with the fact that he fumbled it so bad and that ford actually meant something to him?

[spaceistheplaceart]

once again thinking about @void-dude's static ford. ough.

check this out

[recareels]

missing reca SO bad today for some reason???????????? i miss playing hsr but i am terrified to face What Sunday Has Become because i knowwwww it’s going to upset me and break my heart

[joshujihan23]

You’re safe with me

☆ pairing: mafia boss!seungcheol x girlfriend!reader

☆ synopsis: the mafia scene was something that isn’t unfamiliar to you since your boyfriend is THE mafia boss, so is it surprising that you got involved as well?

☆ trigger warning: mentions of violence, abuse, torture, blood, degrading terms such as weak, mentions of injuries such as bruises, cuts, scars.

☆ author’s note: my LONGESTT fic yet. not sure how i feel about this.. do let me know how it is!

————————————————————————

you were overwhelmed with fear, your eyes shielded by the numerous tears filling your eyelids, dripping down your cheeks simultaneously.

you were exhausted. frightened. nervous, anything relating to fear.

your hands were tied with thick, rough rope, and trapped behind the chair you were sitting on. your legs scarred, filled with bruises and cuts from the whips given by his enemy’s subjects. their sinister laughs, their amused expressions, were printed in your brain.

and the scene when you got kidnapped, was replaying again and again. apparently seungcheol betrayed his best friend, alex. and his revenge? kidnap his love of his life, torture his beloved, until seungcheol strikes a deal with him.

and best believe, you knew who the enemy was. the person that ‘fought for you’ against seungcheol.

which in the end, seungcheol won.

and he is here today to get his revenge, after he has risen in placings in the mafia scene.

but whatever that got you in this situation didn’t matter to you at that point. the pain, the fear in you, took over your mind, leaving you to dread whatever that was coming up next.

you heard footsteps approaching, slowly but firmly. you sighed with a shaky breath, preparing yourself for the worst.

it has been hours, and seungcheol hasn’t arrive.

and that is killing you slowly but surely.

just then, you felt a hand, rough and callous, grip onto your cheek. you winced, looking up at him weakly.

only to see that it was alex, with an evil smirk plastered across his face.

you gulped, trying to move your face out of his grip.

only for him to return with a harsh slap across your cheek, making you yelp in pain.

“your prince charming isn’t coming, love. just give it up.” he snickered.

“he will, he definitely will..” you mumbled.

his eyes gazed down your figure, his smirk widening as he does so. he took a step forward, his tall figure standing before you, making you gulp. he grabbed onto your cheek harshly, his cold hand come into contact with the small bruise forming on your cheek from all the torture you’ve been facing, making you wince.

that made alex chuckle darkly, giving you another slap across your cheek.

“such a weak woman, are you? need your knight in shining armour to continuously save you. guess what, pretty? he isn’t coming.” he said in a mocking tone, his eyes shifting to the orange glow at the corner of the dark, eerie warehouse.

the sun is setting. is seungcheol not going to come soon?

before you could even turn to face the sun ray creeping into the warehouse, you felt alex harshly gripping onto your chin.

his face inched closer to you, his breath hitting the tip of your nose gently, a stark contrast to his menacing gaze.

“i fought so hard. i fought so hard so that you could be mine. but what did my dear best friend do? steal you from me. if you were mine, we won’t be having this issue here, darling.” he spoke, his voice low and dark.

he let out another dark chuckle, his other hand gripping onto your thigh tightly.

“now, let me enjoy this time with you. the time which i longed for for all these gruelling years..”

his voice lingered at the end of the sentence. before you could even say anything, he smashed his lips onto you, making you yelp. panicked, you started to fumble on the chair, making some efforts to remove the string that tied both of hands behind your back.

but alex didn’t back down. in fact, he grabbed your cheek harshly with his hand, while using the other to hold your body down on the flimsy chair.

before you knew it, you felt his cold hand playing with the hem of your shirt, as it creeped underneath it. feeling the chills going up your body from the sudden contact, you yelped, but was quickly silenced when he bit your lip recklessly, penetrating his tongue into your mouth, exploring every single inch of it.

you tried, you tried everything in your ability to stop him. you wanted to yank your leg forward to kick him, but his grip on your thigh was so, so strong.

and that’s when you heard a rip.

puzzled, you looked down, only to see that your shirt had rip, due to how old the material was.

alex cackled, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“lord and behold, such smooth and milky skin. tempting, are we?” he growled.

his lips returned to attack yours, his fingertips grazing against your chest, making shivers go down your spine.

“don’t be scared, sweetie, let me take care of you.”

and that moment, you hear gun shots fire right outside the warehouse. cursing under his breath, you could almost see the screws in his brain turning, as he continued to make out with you.

“shh, don’t be frightened, princess. let me just feel you a bit more.”

his hands creeped down your body, reaching against your thigh. he squeezed it harshly, making you flinch. he hiked your skirt up swiftly, his fingers brushing against your inner thigh.

no. he can’t do this. he just can’t.

you tried to shake him off, but he just won’t budge. feeling the tears trickling down your cheeks, you heard the large, wooden door burst open.

“get your hands off her.”

startled, you saw that alex turned his head, his smirk widening.

your eyes glanced to the door as well, and you couldn’t be more relieved.

seungcheol, standing right there, with all his other members.

alex got off of you, brushing his hands together, while walking towards seungcheol with a menacing grin.

“well, well, well. look who we have here?” alex announced.

you saw seungcheol whispering to his other members, as they began to scatter.

“let’s end this with a duel, the first to surrender, loses.” seungcheol declared, his right hand playing with his gun skilfully.

“fine, but no weapons, fair and square.” alex rebutted, throwing his gun aside.

“deal.”

and it all began, the fistfighting. the two men began throwing punches at each other, kicking the other with full force. seungcheol swung a fist against alex’s cheek, making alex return with a strong kick against his legs.

invested in the fight, you didn’t realise that your hands were free, and a pair of arms wrapped around you.

you turned around, to see that it was jeonghan, seungcheol’s most trusted member, and certainly your favourite except for seungcheol.

he placed a hand on your head, trying to reassure you as much as he could.

“you’re safe with us. your injuries, does it hurt, how much does it hurt.”

with this many questions, you could guess that he was trying to distract you from the fight. but your eyes remain glued onto the two men, who behaved relatively animalistic.

seungcheol seemed like he was winning, until alex kicked onto his leg harshly, making his knees buckle. he knelt in front of him, before alex pulled out a knife from his pocket, grazing it against seungcheol’s neck.

“it’s over, buddy. just give up and give me your girl, and we’ll be all good.”

your eyes widened, you wanted to go to him, but jeonghan pulled you back, telling you that it was too dangerous. but seungcheol kept his menacing gaze, his eyes fixed onto alex.

“you will never get her, you aren’t good enough for her.”

you heard seungcheol wince, watching closely, the knife dug deeper in his neck, blood dripping onto the knife slowly.

frightened, you did the thing that only seemed right to you, although it might be deemed as rash.

you escaped from jeonghan’s arms, scurrying onto the floor, and

BANG.

the shot fired, silencing the entire room.

the entire room stood still, almost as if time has stopped.

the body fell on the ground, limp and bleeding, but he was still breathing, since his chest was still rising, slowly but surely.

your hands clenched onto the pistol, your hands shaking from the shock you have. your eyes darted around, only to land on seungcheol.

his facial expression was unreadable, the blood on his neck still dripping.

and that made a wave of fear rush over you, as you watch seungcheol walk towards you.

“i-i’m sorry i didn’t know why i did that i-i was just so scared i’m so-”

and that’s when you felt his soft lips on yours, his hands wrapping around your waist gently. his kiss was so soft, so gentle, yet there’s a lingering feeling of possessive, protectiveness.

at the familiar touch, you gave in immediately, returning the kiss.

breaking away, he placed his forehead against yours, taking that moment to calm his breathing.

“you did the right thing, princess. if it weren’t for you, i would have lost you completely. you’re so brave, so so brave.” his hand ran through the strands of your hair, brushing it away from you.

he looked down, seeing the complete mess that you were in. the torn shirt, the crumped skirt, and most importantly, your injured body, his heart broke almost immediately.

he took off his jacket, wrapping it around your body, making you wear it.

“it’s going to be cold, wear this so that you won’t fall sick, alright?” he mumbled, his sweet tone lingering in the air.

“cheollie..” you sighed shakily, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you. you buried your head into his neck, feeling his blood trickling on your neck. you held onto him tightly, your breath becoming more and more shaky from fear.

that absolutely broke seungcheol’s heart. the only times when you actually called him ‘cheollie’, was when you were scared, when you had so much fear in you it hurts his heart. that made him pull you closer to him, as if he was protecting you from the rest of the world.

“you’re safe with me now, princess. i’ll protect you better, i swear.” he mumbled, his breath tickling your ear gently.

“sorry to.. ruin the moment. but what are we doing with this animal?”

the both of you turned around, to see joshua leaning forward, watching alex carefully while kicking his unconscious body.

“leave him here, we’ll teach him a lesson.” seungcheol spoke, in such a simple, yet evil tone.

he turned his attention to you again, his eyes softening at the sight of your tear-filled, doe eyes.

“i have one favour of you. tell me everything he did, and that will determine my punishment for him tomorrow.”

————————————————————————

the soft music of the movie played in the background, the sweet scent of the candle he lit up filled the room.

after the both of you got home, he immediately carried you in bridal style, and towards your bedroom. he sat you down on the mattress, while examining the state that you are in.

the bright, bruising red mark on your cheeks, the ones that he always hold on to seek comfort. your torn shirt, the shirt that you always told him not to throw away because it meant so much to you, but because of today, it got destroyed. your thigh, covered in red marks, with bruises and cuts trailing down your leg, the pair of legs he just loves to touch because it was just so, so soft.

and most importantly, your lips. the pinkish, soft lips that he loves to connect his lips with, was now bruised, swollen, and split.

he cupped your cheeks, gently so that it won’t trigger any pain when he did so. but seeing you wince softly at the touch, his heart immediately broke.

he placed his forehead against yours, letting out a shaky sigh.

“fuck, i didn’t want this job of mine to danger you. what did i do.. i’m so sorry princess. i’m so sorry..” he mumbled gently, his eyes tracing your face.

your gaze was locked onto his, watching his eyes soften as he examined your injuries. seeing the guilt building in him, you quickly placed a finger on his lips, shushing him.

“don’t be, at least i’m safe with you now, right?” you replied, your lips brushing against his.

seungcheol let out another shaky sigh, placing a peck on your lips, giving himself a reminder that you are actually safe with him.

“you’re right, you’re so so right. let me take care of you, please. i need to see you feel better before i can do so myself.” he whispered, his hand grasping onto yours gently.

seungcheol stood up, taking one last look at you, before he walked off to the bathroom. a few moments later, you see him walking back towards you, with a basin filled with water and washcloth in one hand, and the first aid kit in the other.

he sat in front of you, his weight sinking the bed down slightly. he placed the basin on the bedside table, dipping the cloth into it. he wrung it gently, as he brought it closer to your face.

“this is going to sting, be strong for me, okay?” he mumbled gently, waiting for your approval while he continued to stare into your eyes.

when you nodded, he sighed softly, dabbing the wet cloth onto the wounds on your face. feeling the sting, you hissed, your hands clenching onto his arm.

he stopped for a moment, watching how your face clenched up, your eyes closing a little from the pain.

“i know i know, it hurts right? i’ll be quick, i promise.” he said reassuringly.

he seemed to treat your injuries pretty quickly, and before you know it, he was already done. your body was filled with bandages, small plasters, and oilment to treat the bruises. he placed the cloth back in the basin, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“you did so well, princess. so good for me.” he praised, a small smile forming on his lips.

you gave him a smile in return, before kneeling forward, while placing a hand on his chest. your eyes was fixated on the scar on his neck, the one he got while he was in the fight with alex.

“relax baby, now it’s my turn to take care of you.” you said softly, holding onto the wet cloth, the same one he used to wipe off the dried blood.

your actions made seungcheol chuckle, his eyes glued to every little detail that you did.

“alright princess, i’ll be good.” he replied, another chuckle escaping from his lips.

————————————————————————

you treated his injuries pretty quickly, while he took the moment to order some food for the both of you to eat.

after all, after a day of fighting and torture, the least the both of you could do was to eat.

and the food came pretty quickly, with the both of you sitting on the couch in the room, with a movie playing in the background, cuddled in each other’s arm, while eating the fried chicken from your favourite restaurant.

taking a piece of chicken, seungcheol placed the meat at your mouth, waiting for you to eat it.

“say ahh~” seungcheol cooed, making you giggle, as you at the chicken.

“i’ll never believe how the most powerful mafia in this country is the softest person when it came to his girlfriend.” you teased, placing your head on his chest.

seungcheol chuckled, his fingers running through your hair, while he admired your facial features.

“well, although you had the mafia boss wrapped around that little finger of yours, you should know that you are in fact, the safest person that anyone can be on this planet, when you’re with me.”

.

.

.

.

.

bonus:

seungcheol walked into the warehouse, seeing that jeonghan and joshua has already tied alex up on the chair, the same chair you sat on yesterday.

“p-please let me go! i’m so sorry for kidnapping y/n let me go please..” alex begged, his eyes desperate and pleading.

seungcheol only let out a mocking laugh, his hand twirling the gun in his hand around.

“y/n shared with me everything that you did, now let’s do the punishment according, shall we?” seungcheol looked at jeonghan and joshua, who gave a knowing, yet menacing smile.

“should’ve known before you kidnapped the girlfriend of the most powerful mafia.” joshua said, while trying to hold back his laughter.

“and trying to win her back? you’re pathetic, even for a normal human being.” jeonghan added, while cracking his knuckles.

seungcheol walked closer to alex, his eyes eyeing down at the man, who seemed smaller, and more afraid, making him laugh once again.

“let’s make it quick and easy. i need to get back to my love. where should we start?”

[lovscb97]

tags: nerd!bang chan x cheerleader!fem!reader, inexperienced chan, experienced reader, kissing, slight corruption kink, kinda toxic relationship, oral sex (f. receiving), face-sitting, exhibitionism lowkey (they’re in a locker room), nicknames (channie, baby, pretty boy), angst kinda?, porn with some plot, etc

wc: 2.06k

add. notes: these previews kilt me. they Kilt Me. therefore i present to u face-sitting with nerd chan. it's not entirely pwp but enjoy anyways :3

nerd!chan pt. 2 / nerd!chan headcannons / drabble #1

. . . 

you’re not quite sure how you got here, honestly. one moment, you’re out at cheer practice with your girls, doing complicated stunts and diligently rehearsing the rigorous routines outlined for the upcoming game, all with your coach blowing her whistle every other minute of course. but the next? 

you’re in a stuffy locker room making out with the captain of the mathletes team as he pants against your mouth, begging you for more.

it started off with a simple favour— you needed somebody to help you get your grades up after missing one too many classes, and chan was the best in the year; naturally, you asked for his assistance. he’d gone wide in the eyes and red in the face when you’d walked up to him after your shared lecture, leaving you biting back a laugh at the way he stuttered over his words over the prospect of teaching you, even refusing at first. to your fortunate pleasure however, you convinced him to agree in the end, which is how you ended up at your first session in his house, crammed together on his childhood bed and eyeing the walls of his room littered with spelling bee awards and academic medals from various competitions. 

somehow down the line of those little sessions, you and chan grew closer, bonding over your shared love for movies and hidden local diners in your city, and the first time you hung out with him outside of the guise of studying at those very local diners, you found yourselves grinding against each other in the backseat of his beatdown car. you still remember the way he fumbled over himself, red ears burning and big doe eyes blinking up at you as you kissed him, albeit awkward with his lack of expertise but still sweet in the way he held you close to him. you suppose that’s where your little ‘sessions’ turned into a special type of studying, and where this charade began to unfold as your dirty secret.

which brings you back to now. 

“need.. need you.” chan huffs, pulling away momentarily from messily locking his lips with yours as you breathe heavily against him. you blink for a moment as if processing his words, and a cheeky smile spreads across your face slowly as you take in his disheveled hair and blown out features. “yeah? what do you need, pretty boy?” you tease, trailing a single finger across his pale skin to trace the outline of his collarbone, feeling him shiver under your touch as a low whine escapes his mouth. 

“need to taste you.” he mumbles shyly, and you coo at the way he hangs his head low as if he’s embarrassed to admit it, hooking a finger under his chin to get a look at his slightly teary eyes. when they finally make contact with yours, you can’t help but smile softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips that has your insides positively melting. 

sometimes you realise that despite his enthusiasm in engaging with you, chan is just a soft-spoken boy. he’s so untouched and pure that it makes you want to absolutely break him, to taint that perfect image he’s put on and quite literally corrupt him to become your toy. amidst that realisation, it also dawns on you that one day he’ll come to terms with the fact that this isn’t what he deserves, that this isn’t how he should be enjoying his firsts with someone who doesn’t even have the nerve to commit to him and how he’ll move on sooner or later to find somebody better that can give him what he wants without needing to hide it. the mere thought of it always leaves your stomach swirling in bitterness and disgust, but you swallow the lump it creates at the back of your throat because those are feelings you’re yet not ready to confront, and for now, if this is what you can have, then this is what you’ll take.

“and how do you want me?” you ask lowly, taking chan’s hand in yours and placing it on your waist, feeling the way he bunches up the fabric of your cheer outfit in his palm. “tell me.” you murmur. “tell me and i’ll give it all to you.”

“want you to sit my face.” he gasps out, hooded eyes staring at you as the words leave his mouth, and suddenly all your self restraint is snapping in half. before you know it, you’re yanking him by the collar of his brown jacket, smashing your lips together once more and swallowing the squeak of surprise that leaves him. the kiss is desperate, and wet, and sloppy, but neither of you care about it or the fact that anyone could walk in and see you both, far too lost in each other to give much of a damn. 

“get on the bench.” you demand once you’ve retracted yourself from him, chan’s wide pupils searching yours to see if you’re serious. when you don’t say anything or move, he’s immediately scrambling for his balance and toppling back onto the wooden structure, drawing a small giggle from you that has his insides tightening and jeans straining. 

“wait!” he blurts out as you move to hook your fingers into your skirt, swallowing when you raise an eyebrow at him. “keep it on.” he whispers, and you swear your heart stops beating right then and there. you nod slowly after a while in understanding, because that’s all you fear you can manage without actually jumping his bones in that moment. 

“lay on your back.” you quietly instruct, and chan eagerly follows like a puppy taking orders from its owner. he yelps when his snapback falls off his head at the angle he’s at, but you’re quick to catch it, pushing it back onto his curls with a wink as you straddle his face. “keep it on.” you mimic his words from earlier, chuckling at the way his cheeks flush pink at your response because by god, he was far too cute for his own good. 

“wait a minute,” chan’s eyes widen when he at last focuses his attention on you and gets a glimpse of your drenched core. “were you.. were you not wearing anything under your skirt?” he questions cautiously, nearly choking when you merely shrug. “i like easy access.” a devious smirk journeys across your face when you answer him, and chan has to bite back a moan at the idea of you parading around commando all day. his imagination doesn’t get the chance to run too wild, because by the time he can even register what’s happening, you’re already lowering yourself onto his awaiting mouth, groans leaving the two of you at the fact that you’re both finally, finally getting what you’ve been waiting for all day.

“fuck,” chan curses into you, and you hiss at the way his words rumble deep in his chest and travel through your core. “fuck, fuck, fuck.” he breathes out once more, swiping through your folds hysterically as your taste invades his senses. you’re everywhere, in his mind, his mouth, even his soul, especially from the way you begin to slowly rock yourself back and forth on his wet muscle. he swears he might die a happy man today when he feels your thighs smothering him on each side, hands moving up to grip the plush of them before he’s sticking his tongue out and letting you ride it.

“how are you so good at this?” you laugh to yourself in disbelief, biting your lip at the way his nose bumps against your clit perfectly each time he lets you move yourself against him. chan merely grunts in response, too engrossed in eating you out to even answer, and when he pulls you down to suck on your swollen bundle of nerves, you swear you see stars. the only thing heard in the isolated locker room you’re currently going at it in by now are the lewd slurps coming from his mouth along with your whimpers, which only get higher in pitch the more he continues to eat at you.

“so damn good.” chan keens. “so fucking wet, and sweet too.” his words only spur you on further, and before you know it, the telltale signs of your orgasm are creeping up on you. chan shows no signs of stopping though, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises and pulling you impossibly further down on his mouth to the point you feel like you actually might suffocate him. he doesn’t care, of course, he’d die a happy man to be smothered by your perfect cunt.

“channie, baby, wait.” you cry out softly when he envelops your engorged nub in his mouth and laves his tongue over it repeatedly, moaning obscenely against your pussy. “‘m gonna cum if you do that, wait, wait.” chan in fact does not wait, only speeding up his movements and continuing to lick at you until you’re shaking through the familiar waves of pleasure, a silent scream falling from your lips as you spray warm and wet on his tongue. it drips down his chin and your inner thighs, but neither of you care with you buzzing in overstimulation from the way chan continues to suck at you through the shocks, and him with you cumming on his tongue so pretty. 

by the time you’re done, he’s still going at it, and it takes you gripping his hair and weakly standing up from his mouth to get chan to finally stop. when you look down at him from your awkward position, the lower half of his face glistens back at you, his plump lips and pretty features wet with your arousal and juices, prompting you to bite back a moan. you swing your leg over and shakily stand, petting your skirt down to get rid of the creases as chan sits up, still looking like he ascended to another dimensional plane. he’s rock hard in his boxers by now, cock painfully straining against his jeans, but he can’t find it in himself to get you to help him out.

“well,” you clear your throat after a moment of silence. “i should get going.” chan’s heart sinks in his chest at your words, and it must show in his expression too because you can’t seem to meet his eyes with the way your gaze stays locked on your twiddling fingers. “they’re probably wondering where i’ve been, so..” you trail off, trying to find a way to excuse yourself despite your mind screaming at you to do otherwise.

“yeah.” chan curses internally at the way his voice cracks. “yeah, you should go.” the sentence comes out more bitter than he intends it to, but he can’t help it. a part of him wants you to feel guilty for just up and leaving without even delving into what this is, what it could mean and become if you just allowed yourself to let it do so, but he’s come to learn that he just can’t expect that from you at this point. so, he doesn’t, instead choosing to wave bye as you sheepishly make your way outside the locker room to the field. once you’re out of sight, he sighs heavily, covering his face with his hands before flopping back down on the bench, his mind racing with thoughts. 

because the simple fact is that chan knows. he knows you’re oh so out of his league, and you would’ve been miles away from his reach either way had it not been for the fact that you stopped him one random thursday afternoon to ask if he could help you out in economics 101. and yet, a part of him still longs for you, longs for your presence and the way you bat your eyelashes at him when he scolds you for getting a question wrong. he longs for the way your perfume wafts in his direction when you pass him in the hallways, ignoring his existence like you both weren’t tangled up in each other’s embrace the night before. even though his heart hurts so painfully, even though his friends all say you’re bad for him, even though he knows himself how bad you are for him, he doesn’t care. 

for him, it’s always going to be you.

. . . 

comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

Okay I know we all joke about how the Star Trek First Contact handshake is accidentally a kiss, but the more I think about it, the more I feel it actually works in-universe and elevates the scene.

There are dozens of sci fi stories where first contact is fumbled based on a misunderstanding and it turns into a massive war. Babylon 5, Ender's Game, several Star Trek episodes in fact. Two different peoples meet but are just a bit too different and we murder each other over nothing. That's just how it goes, right? Realistic, if depressing.

And in Star Trek's first human contact, everything is set up for a fumble. Cochrane is an engineer with zero political skills, and while the Vulcans who come in have at least learned English they're far from an official diplomatic envoy. Earth is not in great shape and they've no idea aliens even exist, so there's a chance for tension. And when the captain does the traditional salute, the human can't even move his fingers into the right configuration, and instead offers his hand. In Vulcan terms, this is about the equivalent of offering a handshake and the other guy wants to shove his tongue down your throat. Plenty of room for disgust, misunderstanding, conflict, another warning about the dangers of difference.

But that isn't what happens. The Vulcan captain sees this and accepts it, reaching out to complete the gesture. He doesn't fully understand what's happening, but he saw Cochrane at least try to do the Vulcan salute, so he chooses to assume the best of him. To meet him where he's at, even if it's a bit awkward for him personally. And it works out. He and his crew are invited for drinks and music, and the dominoes are instead sent towards ending humanity's dark age and starting the Federation. All because the Vulcan captain saw past what could have been an insult and gave humanity the benefit of the doubt.

Star Trek is not a perfect universe where human-Vulcan first contact goes 100% smoothly. Star Trek is a universe where first contact is nearly a diplomatic incident, but they're able to move past that and create something better because both sides chose to be open-minded and compassionate. It might not be (fully, the scene is meant to be a bit awkward but not that awkward) intended, but damn if it doesn't work.

[slimyshield]

the fact that it was Whitaker who found Robby. the fact that they made a point of showing that it could have been Santos who found Robby. Santos who has shown she is willing to go above someone's head if she thinks it's necessary. Santos who would have told someone - Dana, Abbot, someone - if she was the one to find Robby having a panic attack on the floor. she wouldn't have been crazy about it because she did go about reporting Langdon with tact and nuance (getting other ppls takes on Langdon and proof of drugs vanishing before she went to Robby!!) but she would have said something she would have mentioned something.

but instead it's Whitaker. who is empathetic, yes, and perhaps what he said was what Robby needed in the moment, what the ER needed in the moment, because they couldn't afford to have an attending tap out in the middle of a mass casualty event. but Whitaker is a young white man. a demographic the show has specifically pointed out is drowning in toxic masculinity. he is a young white man from Nebraska with multiple brothers, and it has been shown that he has the spirit but lacks the execution skills in terms of empathy and knowing what would be best for the patient holistically. so he says what he thinks Robby needs to hear, the long and short of which is put your emotions aside and get your head in the game, which the audience knows is not what Robby genuinely, actually needs in order to get better in the long term. and we see the direct results of that when after Robby stands he physically pushes Whitaker away. because that is what emotional unavailability does to men. it makes them reject each other in moments of weakness. like. the metaphor is so obvious and devastating. it's right there! he pushes him away! he pushes him away!! you think or maybe hope they're about to have a glorious heart to heart -- but Robby pushes him away, and so Whitaker leaves (with a nickname for Robby that, correct me if I'm wrong, is the first time we hear it; and he calls him captain. a military rank. which is. an insane decision from the writers. the military, which perpetuates toxic masculinity more than perhaps any other entity in the world). and Whitaker doesn't have the lack of respect for authority that Santos has, so when Robby comes to him later and says you won't tell anyone about this will you, he says no, I won't. where we have textual in-show evidence that Santos might have said no I won't and then gone to Dana or Abbot afterwards. and then Whitaker parrots Robby's horrendous, fumbling how do we deal with losing patients? push it down and never process it speech back at him. it's heartwarming! Robby smiles! and then you think about it a bit more and you just feel sick.

this is not an attack on Whitaker. I love him so much. it's just like. this is how the cycle of toxic masculinity is perpetuated. Whitaker isn't an asshole! he has buckets of empathy we have seen that! he is a bleeding heart! but it's still not enough. as a man he has been told his entire life to shut his emotions down and that vulnerability is to be avoided at all costs and he and Robby catch each other in a negative loop. the cycle is continued, unwittingly. GOD this show is so good

[benevolentbones]

gideondaughter!reader and spencer first time talking when the team goes to dinner and spencer is just a mess talking to her

thank you sm for the request!! hope you enjoy<3 requests are still open i’ll be working through them!

kids table | spencer reid x gideon!reader part 1

part 2

warnings: mentions of alcohol, light flirting.

word count: 1.5k

summary: it’s gideon’s birthday dinner and the team are here to celebrate.

“are you sure he booked it for 8:30?” jj hummed, holding her clutch purse close to her sage green maxi dress.

“yes. gideon party of nine at mastro’s, 8:30pm.” spencer recalled, having the time and place drilled into his mind in fear of being late.

“party of nine? but there’s only eight of us?” elle’s brows contorted, she counted everyone in the room. jj, morgan, reid, garcia, hotch, prentiss, herself and then gideon who was yet to show, that was only eight.

“maybe he’s bringing a date?” penelope chuckled, her hands smoothing down the hem of her fitted pencil dress.

“gideon? with a date? i highly doubt that.” morgan snickered, leaning against garcia.

the group of agents waited rather impatiently for gideon to arrive to the restaurant. all adorned in their best dress for the awaited man of the hours birthday dinner.

hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger and thumb.

“it’s only 8:25, he will be here.” he muttered out.

spencer began to fumble with his hands, he would class himself as a fairly patient man, the only thing on his mind currently was who the mystery ninth guest could be. he didn’t like not knowing things, it was part of being a profiler he guessed.

the doors to the dimly lit restaurant swung open, jason gideon walking in full stride with a grin on his face. he wore a navy blue suit jacket paired with his signature chinos.

“finally you’re here, they’ve been complaining for the last ten minutes.” prentiss sighed, placing a hand on her hip.

“its not even 8:30, i said i would be on time- but y/n here couldn’t find the shoes she wanted to wear.” gideon let out a small chuckle as a figure walked through the doors behind him.

a girl, roughly in her early twenties stood beside gideon. her hands clamped together in front of her, a black satin dress adorned her figure, hugging her nicely, which she paired with matching black heels.

“well i found them in the end, dad.” she mumbled out, greeting the group with a small smile.

half the team stood there it awe, mouths gaped and eyes locked on the latest arrivals.

“you clean up nice, jason.” hotch nodded towards the older man, then turning his sights on you.

“beautiful as ever.” he smiled, which he rarely did, and leaned over to give you a hug.

“thanks uncle aaron.” you grinned back, embracing his warm hug.

“i’m sorry you need to catch us up real quick- dad? uncle?” morgan titled his head like a confused puppy.

“i didn’t realise you’d have trouble putting two and two together, morgan. this is my daughter, y/n.” gideon mused, ushering you further into the room.

you held out your hand, derek quickly took it in his, giving it a small shake, cogs in his mind still visibly turning.

“and aaron isn’t actually my uncle- he just acts like it.” you pulled your hand back, returning it to your side.

gideon quickly introduced you to the rest of the team, everyone seeming to come to terms with the fact gideon had a ‘secret’ daughter that he never once brought up.

all the while spencer stood, hands glued to his sides as he eyed you. he had never seen someone so perfect, the way the dress hung from your frame, the way you politely greeted every member of the team.

when gideon had finally reached him to introduce y/n to him, he was caught off guard.

“reid, meet my daughter y/n, im sure it’s not as hard for you to understand.” gideon hummed, making a dig at morgan who had migrated with the group to where the table was set up.

unlike the others, you kept your hand to yourself, but shot spencer a sweet smile.

“it’s really nice to meet you dr. reid- my dad has told me so much about you, i know you’re not big on handshakes.”

spencer’s heart was practically doing backflips at this point. he was completely enamoured by you.

“really nice- to meet you too.” he managed to stutter out.

gideon internally rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what was happening.

“how about we sit down and look at the menu.” he began to usher his daughter towards the table, spencer following quick at his heels.

by the time the three of them had reached where the table set for nine was, the rest of the team were sat, eagerly awaiting them. the only free spaces were at either end of the rectangular table, and an extra place next to the end seat.

“hey gideon come look at this” jj beckoned the older man over, to the head of the table. he briefly turned back to his daughter, before he could utter a word she nodded, knowing that she wouldn’t be sitting with him.

“guess we can sit down at the end together.” you affirmed, shuffling to the free seats with spencer by your side.

once seated, everyone began flipping through the menu, all besides spencer who’s gaze every so often flickered over to the girl beside him, who seemed deep in thought about what she was going to order.

“what are you going to get?” she asked, attempting to make quiet conversation with the man at her side.

spencer hummed, he had researched the restaurant before hand noting all of the dishes he might like.

“the uh- the pasta, i think.” he paused for a moment. “what about you?” he cursed the heat that rose to his face, lifting his hand to loosen the dark purple tie around his neck.

you smiled, still scanning the menu, taking glimpses of spencer in his flustered state.

you had heard many things about most of the team throughout your fathers years of working with them, and when he finally allowed you to meet them, you were most excited to meet spencer.

“i might have that too, it sounds good.”

a few hours had past since everyone had sat down, everyone had finished eating and were now onto their fourth round of drinks, all besides you and spencer.

everyone was deep in conversation about a case from a few years back, obviously you had no clue what they were talking about.

you turned to spencer, who seemed to have gotten more comfortable being in such close proximity to you.

“i swear it feels like we are sitting at the kids table at a christmas dinner.” you giggled to yourself.

“i know right- it’s it’s like we aren’t even here.” spencer returned the chuckle, his heart beating a little faster.

“how are you enjoying the night- i hope im not boring you too much, if you want to join the rest of them feel free.” you mumbled out, eyes migrating to your hands that you had placed on your lap.

“no no- i like it here, i like you- i mean i like being with you i-“ spencer fumbled on his words, causing you to smile. god he was a complete mess.

you reached a hand over, placing it on spencer’s forearm. he could swear his skin felt like it was burning from your touch.

“i like being with you too, spencer.” you whispered out, a soft pink blush dusting your cheeks.

his hazel eyes locked with yours, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat. he was partly confused as to why someone like you had enjoyed his awkwardness and rambling.

to say he had little experience talking to women in more than a friendly way, was an understatement.

he was completely out of his depth, and the fact that your father, his boss, sat at the other end of the table made things a little more awkward for him.

“you look really-good tonight, by the way.” he managed to mumble out, without sounding like a complete idiot.

this caused your face to flush, darting your eyes away from him briefly.

“thank you spencer.”

“would you maybe want to-“ before he could continue, gideon had stood up from the table, all eyes were on him.

“lets go y/n, your old man is getting too tired for this.” he joked.

“oh right-“ you stood up quickly brushing off your dress, you did a small lap of the table thanking everyone for the lovely evening and telling them it was great to meet them.

you then followed gideon out of the room, all remaining eyes were now on spencer who slumped down into his chair.

“that’s rough man, you had all night and didn’t even ask her out.” morgan shook his head lightly, feeling somewhat bad for the boy genius.

before spencer could say anything, he watched you dart back into the room, a piece of paper in your grasp. you quickly placed it in spencer’s hand before pressing a light peck to his cheek and running off out of the restaurant again.

the now flustered brunette un crumpled the paper, scanning the scribbled words.

thanks for talking all night, id love to go out with you sometime x

555-555-555 - y/n

“never mind- atta boy!”

[aeyumicore]

okay REWRITING THIS SINCE TUMBLR ATE MY POST I HATE MY LIFE:

i think i’m one of the few girls that didn’t want caleb to come back half cyborg or w a mechanical arm so idk how to feel about this HAHAH im processing

but his back made me viscerally ill i’m HURJRHRHEHDUE i shivered.

some thoughts i have about caleb’s story:

1. i need caleb’s story to have DEPTH - i need caleb to have a level of moral greyness. i dont think caleb can survive as a classic childhood friends to lovers trope. it would be too cliche, esp with the controversies surrounding his global reception.

2. i think caleb needs to have betrayed mc on some conscious level. it can't have been on a "he was forced to do it" or a "he had a very good and noble reason." it can't be something that can be so easily squared away. the level of betrayal needs to be BIG, because the level of REDEMPTION needs to be bigger.

3. i just don't think caleb can be the golden retriever boy he's been, he won't survive. luke pearce from ToT was this character, who btw was my fav and prob one of my first otome favs but luke pearce lacked the depth to keep my interest long term.

4. i think caleb definitely had something to do with the explosion whether he knew about it or he himself set it up. i think he maybe

was part of the plot, knowing josephine and mc would be "collateral." but he knew mc would survive. maybe he thought he could or couldnt save josephine (moral greyness).

maybe he also died. he could have a level of survivability/reincarnation like mc and like the other boys who all have a level of being able to reincarnate or self-heal (sylus). heck josephine prob also tested on him so he might even have some aether core like thing in him

maybe he almost died but was saved by Ever, as he is a valuable asset, and they needed him. maybe in order to save him they had to take drastic measures? (mechanical arm? :O)

5. i just think overall caleb will be a much better character, love interest, AND villain if they do make him a LITTLE BIT genuinely morally grey. not the fake morally grey of "oh they made me do it" or "i did it but i didn't want to" or "i did it but i was thinking of you the whole time" ykwim.

i think rafayel has some of the BEST character lore and depth not only in the game, but....like kinda ever, and that has a lot to do with it, is the conflict of hatred and love. i would love a good mix of that + sylus's "there is no love purer than mine".

i REALLY fear they will fumble his story. i think it would be a MASSSSSSIVE disservice to caleb if they made him too cliche and simply "ive loved you since we were little and i'd do anything for you"

MORE THOUGHTS TO COME WHEN ITS NOT 5AM and i have to be up in 3 hours for work

edit: I FORGOT TO ADD - the fact that caleb is wearing some kind of officials uniform and seems to be interrogating mc? maybe his betrayal is much deeper rooted..like it’s part of a larger picture that involves a much larger chain of corruption??

[once-a-traya]

i've been thinking a lot about the way kingdom come: deliverance ii structures its romances. it's interesting, in the sense that they all feel bespoke - short fling or long term or in-between, there's no hard and fast system that applies to all characters. most games with romances stick to a rhythm: you have the initial flirtation options, then there's a companion quest (or multiple companion quests), then you are 'locked in', and finally you get a scene at the end.

anyway, spoilers under the cut.

the romance with katherine is the closest to that model. which makes sense! she's a traumatized person who needs to be convinced henry is reliable, and she also doesn't know him, so the flirting is apt. it stretches across the entire game, because trust-building takes time and action (sidequests), and much like the romance with hans, a lot of the 'romance' moments hinge on non-romance moments you have with her throughout the story. romance in this game is part of a continuum of human interactions; it's something you can lean into if you want, not a reward toggle.

rosa's romance lasts while rosa is plot-relevant, and is contingent on you flirting with her and giving her the feeling that she and her capabilities are respected. you have to spend time with her and back her up, basically. then there's the various flings, which are all context-dependent. and theresa, which is technically a full-blown romance even if she's only on-screen for five seconds, because henry makes it a romance by bringing her up and speaking of their time together - in that version of the story, she's often on his mind. (but, like the other romances, you have to actively bring her up in the epilogue yourself; the game doesn't hand you "here's your reward romance content")

which leaves us with some interesting implications re: hans and henry. there are, as far as i've been able to find, five heart-icon dialogue interactions between them in the game, one of which is The Big Scene. none of the four romance dialogue options before that are flirty. the flirting happens outside of that, in all the non-romance sections, in ways that can be brushed off as bros-being-bros if you're into that. in fact i'd say most of the development that makes the romance possible happens in the non-romance sections.

the romance choices just let you lean in a little further.

the first romance dialogue comes at the midway point; it's hans apologizing for being a dick and henry can then respond to say it's fine, hans can always rely on him no matter how he behaves, he's the closest friend henry has. the second comes at maleshov, right after henry has staged an elaborate rescue for hans, and it's about henry reassuring a panicking hans that he will always be there for him and they can handle any situation together. the third romance dialogue comes halfway through the italian job and is missable - it's henry telling hans he's missed spending time with him, and repeating that when hans tries to joke it off as a 'yes we should go wenching again soon' kind of deal. finally, the fourth is shortly afterward, with henry worried about hans's claustrophobia, and stating, 'I care about you. maybe more than you know.'

hans brushes all of these things off, it seems like, but then by the Big Scene it's obvious he's been thinking about them a lot. and then hans is the one who makes a move, not henry (though you have to pick the option to trigger it). notably, even if you end the romance scene early by leaving or fumbling the moment, hans makes it clear he thought henry had feelings for him.

so if the difference between non-romanced and romanced katherine is flirting + her feeling she can trust and rely on henry, and the difference between non-romanced and romanced rosa is flirting + her feeling respected by henry, what's the difference between non-romanced and romanced hans? well. it's henry being earnest about his feelings, and going out of his way to make it clear that he cares about and values hans above everything else.

and that, maybe, in this time of extreme trial, he's safe to make this move on.

the extended implication of that is that hans had romantic feelings for henry all along, of some sort or another. he just doesn't address them in a non-romanced path because he doesn't feel confident to abandon plausible deniability and leave the safe, charged ambiguity between him and henry. not outwardly. possibly also not inwardly.

anyway, it's interesting. it also means that the entire game is technically the hans/henry romance arc. and i think that's neat.

[smuttyaf]

You Can Be My Daddy

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐞.

wc; 10k | part one

lil bit of submissive!h. implied age gap! don’t read if it makes you uncomfy!!

Fingers dripping in saliva swiftly zip Harry back up, your rising chest settles down from its previous movements with heels taking steps back to create space between your teacher.

And as he swallows heavily with hands going to his belt and looping it around his waist, the door knob is turning and eerily creaking open, little time to comprehend the sudden intrusion.

Harry tries to focus on fixing himself back up but can’t help catch sight of your movements.

Palms swiping across your skirt heavily, tongue peaking out of your mouth to catch whatever aftertaste of him lapped around your lips just as you lean over to grab your things. His boss is stepping through the door making the atmosphere strained yet, that sight alone has Harry wanting to bend you over right then and there.

“Oh! Hello miss, surprised to see you!”

Wobble of a smile tugs on the ends of Harry’s lips, but bunny, she’s beaming. Flush of pink roaming amongst her cheeks accentuating her happy smile, steps swaying with subtle lifts of beat as if not touching him a few seconds ago.

“Yes! Well, I was just asking Mr. Styles this question about Marie Antoinette, our term paper is coming up.” Voice not wavering with eye contact stern when she passes him.

And Harry, he can’t help but notice how quick you are to lie; how you’re so good at it. Almost too easy to believe but you’re doing it, because the expression over Mr. Bennett's face is one of being intrigued.

“Ah, yes! Marie Antoinette, so misunderstood.” His body stepping back as he holds the door open. “I’m sure you will do well. I read your piece in the school paper; I must applaud you for your insight on Maslow, I never would’ve thought you’re familiar with his work.”

“Yes, I am. His argument on self-actualization is said in such great detail, his work is truly something.” Innocence shining through your expression of doe eyes and nodding head. The fact he’s even commenting on your published column only adds to your sweet image. “I should really get going now, goodbye Mr. Bennett.”

Harry’s thankful you don’t acknowledge him as you leave. Beer belly principal nodding his head stiffly as he goes to close the door.

Now without you by his side does he begin to sweat; knuckles flexing, jaw tensing, and lips still smiling tightly. He tries to reel it in for the sake of his job that he put on the line.

“Such a lovely girl,” He compliments as Harry makes his way towards his desk. Fingers fumbling over his paperwork looking for the report.

“Y —Yes, an excellent student.” Harry sighs once your name comes into view. He twists towards the gray haired man trying to conceal his worked up nerves.

“Thank you!” He smiles, head bowing delighted that it’s finished before stepping closer.

Mr. Bennett’s gaze is heavy as it roams over Harry. The nervous twitch of his nostril, diverating eyes and shallow breath. Inspecting every inch of him looking to catch anything off about Harry’s appearance.

“May I ask what her question was?”

His fingers curl in on each other at the sudden request catching him off guard. His boss can probably see the distress written all over his face, especially with the way he clears his throat and shifts on his feet.

“I’m sorry?” He asks, green eyes squinting to look at the principal with a confused glare.

“The question about Marie Antoinette, what was it?” Mr. Bennett responds, his bushy brows perk up as he leans on the desk.

The charm that bunny has, the one that graced this very room now leaves it empty, having him hanging by a thread. You managed to get away with your lie, but Harry, he has to continue it thinking fast on his feet to catch up.

“Uh, Marie Antoinette… her uh, saying…” He clears his throat, hand raising to his mouth coughing tensely trying to get rid of the strain on his throat. “Let them eat cake, I was explaining to her that it was just hear-say, actually coined from Jean-Jacques Rousseau, a book created way before the existence of Marie.”

The older man relaxes, tongue swiping across his dry lips as he nods once more. Satisfied smile stretches deeper amongst his features, index finger tapping into the wood of his desk as he leans off.

“Just testing…” Wink dropping before he’s turning around on his heels. Harry relaxes tremendously with shoulders subsiding and heart easing in pace as he watches him retreat to the door.

“Don’t need any new rumors, especially with parents' interviews coming up, now do we?” Mr. Bennett turns towards him, gaze running down Harry’s frame, stern sight yet delighted grin.

“Of course not sir.” He replies, nodding his head as he tracks the door swinging shut.

Harry can’t help the way his body twists around, hands combing through his hair as he tries his best to refrain from hitting himself.

How stupid can he be? That was too close of a call. If you were on your knees any longer he would’ve been packed up, sent away, and forbidden to even show his face again.

If you weren’t so passive about the situation he would have given up the facade and begged to keep his job… yet, you made it so easy covering up the moment with a shining grin and persuasive small talk. This time you both got lucky, but what about next time?

Should he even think there is one? Is he crazy to think that? Probably. He shouldn’t be fascinated or find you appealing, but he does.

He wants the sweet taste of you back on his lips… and the feeling of your hands drawing down him with that warm wet mouth just covering him all over. God, he’ll do anything to feel you again and that’s fucked up to think, but now that he’s finally had a taste he wants more. He can’t help but want more.

Harry knows it’s foolish, purely stupid, but even you yourself said it; he’s your daddy and you’re his bunny.

And, you do what you always do, be a tease.

You’re so tempting it’s hard not to notice. With your cherry lips and adorable giggle heard when passing in the hall.

Your skirt is rolled up even higher now, breast more sheen through your button up, and when you sit in front of him in class always focused with tongue glossing over your lips. It reminds him of the weeks prior, how his bunny sucked him up deliciously… how you loved every moment with dirty words and welcoming throat.

He can’t get you off his mind bunny, you’re all he thinks about in his mundane life of teaching and lacrosse. You make things so exciting, so thrilling, he likes knowing the fact he finally has your attention.

You continue to dip your back letting him see your panties, a different colour everyday of the week; sometimes lacy, sometimes plaid, but either way he enjoys the view. Harry especially likes it when you begin signing your nickname at the top of your page for tests, risky, but it entringes him even more.

It’s like right now, your eyes are following his every move when speaking about The French Revolution. Showing how attentive and perfect you are. He tries to ignore your plush mouth and drawing gaze, but he can’t help to float back over your appearance for a little while.

He wraps up the end of the class thirty minutes early, introducing the homework to be done by tomorrow and also suggesting if needing any help for the upcoming paper, that he’s all ears.

And of course, his bunny is by his side. Captivating smile shining to the bounce of your mary jane’s. Harry bites down on his lip, catching sight of your thigh highs and prominent tits. You sure know how to get his attention.

“Mr. Styles,” Long drawl of his name singing in your sweet voice. Leather clad foot resting along the heel of your shoes when leaning into the desk.

“I couldn’t understand this excerpt from yesterday.”

He knows you're lying, knows you’re way too smart not to understand something so easily explained in the textbook, but he can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes him when leaning forward in his chair.

As you place the book onto the desk he catches sight on the folded paper stuck between the spine. His throat clears, eyes shifting towards you who smiles softly at him.

His hands peel away from his arm rest and collects the thick book in his palms, shoulders turning towards you looking down at him curiously.

“This part over here, it states Marie betrayed France by telling the Austrian invaders, why would she do that?”

As the words you speak trail out as foolishness your finger points to the large text box pertaining to your question till it soon slides between the middle and lets the note fall down on the desk. Harry watches it all, his eyes trained on your finger dragging across the rest of the glossy page with fake confusion.

You want his attention so bad, look at you.

Leaning over his desk with flirty gaze and teasing smile, your breasts sparkling in his vision with the way your back curves. It’s sickening how you get away with it, how no one realizes how persuading you are at this moment but him.

“Well, yes, she betrayed the battle plans of the French in hope that they would be defeated and the monarchy restored.” He responds swiftly, hands closing the book while turning to look at you. “Does that answer your question?”

Plump lips curve against the beaming smile of your teeth, slow bob of your head lightly shifting your breasts that Harry can’t help but lick his lip at the sight. Your hand reaches out and accepts the book, hugging it into your chest before stepping away.

“Yes, thank you sir.” Heels retreating back to your desk in a sway of suggestive hips.

Harry watches you take your seat, skirt twisting with eyes tracking back to him, another tug of your lips following before you’re opening your textbook and starting the assigned work.

And he waits a few moments, letting himself look busy flipping through his agenda of drills for the lacrosse practice this afternoon. Fingers fiddling with the ends of the page before taking the note up and unraveling it.

You’re all I can think about…

His heart goes all warm, stomach clenching and veins pulsing to his dick. The neat cursive written in the middle of the torn piece of paper is a kept secret between you and him. Harry can't help but look up at you.

Completely focused on the question at hand, brows pushed together and pen breaking through your lips. You’re concentrated on keeping up your grades, you’re perfect image.

Harry has to sit back in his chair and simply just applaud you. You disguise your true self so well bunny, being the good girl that you are, the one you pretend to be.

But, it’s with his eyes trained on you does he catch Calie passing a note towards Finn. The red head laughs to himself over it before it’s passing behind him to Emmet. The telephone string of the paper from sender to receiver a mess between rushed hands.

He watches closely as it shifts throughout the room, polished nails or bitten ones taking it and passing it onto the next. From Emmet to Astrid, and then Bella to Gabriel until it’s being poked on the elbow of you.

Bunny? What’s this? Someone else on your mind and not him… you should know better than that. Who else races your mind if not him?

Harry can’t stop his nose from flaring as he sees you take it with a smile on your lips accepting the sheet.

“Y/N, would you like to share the note with the rest of the class.”

Your head picks up; eyes wide, fingers curling around the paper, and cheeks heating up noticing that you’re caught.

Snickers of students and grinning faces fill the air over the interruption of free time. They’re just as intrigued with who could’ve been the source just as much as Harry is.

“Hmm?” He continues, sight watching heavily on the way you bite your lip before looking between him and the note.

Your throat clears with fingers peeling it open, deep breath floating in the ruffle of chairs and whispers.

“Um, w —will you meet me after dinner tonight, Luca,” Voice wavering as you swallow heavily, sight catching between Harry and the blonde boy. He sits in the front right hand corner of the room shuffling in his seat, brows raised with the same expression written over his face like his bunny.

So, he’s the one who has your attention, not Harry who should be front and center. His own right wing of defense spending time with you. It’s comical and everyone in the room thinks it’s funny too.

Harry cracks his knuckles in the teasing atmosphere of you distraught that you got caught. You were just sweet talking your way with him minutes ago, and now your mind is elsewhere. Don’t you know better than that?

“Please remember that there will be no passing notes in my class.”

Your lashes flutter at him before turning to look at Luca. Chummy grin with back slouching against the chair, his eye drops into a wink that leaves you tugging your lips into a smirk.

You don’t care… of course you don’t. You have anyone that desires you hanging in front of your face by a thread while you pull the strings whenever bored.

Harry tries not to be mad, tries to reel in his nerves as you flash your eyes at the shaggy blonde as if it’s just the two of you. You’re so naughty toying with him.

This isn’t his bunny. The one who’s so attentive and pleasing. No, you’re doing more to prove how smart you truly are, the tease you love to be.

Thick blades of grass squish amongst the feet of intense movements. Cleats cutting through swiftly as they pick up from the bodies charging down the field, yellow tinged ball crossing in the air as blue and green jerseys drift by.

It’s a beautiful day outside, the trees rustling against the subtle wind from the spring breeze transitioning into the summer season. Colleagues roaming amongst the grounds on their own destinations to distinct quarters, or students still lounging in their uniforms watching the school team practice and you just so happen to be there.

Academy gym shorts with matching t-shirt relaxing on the field, badminton rackets by each of your friends as you giggle looking towards the team.

Harry can’t help his eyes glazing over your taunt frame. Perky backside and charming aura working for not only him, but the player on the team who just so happened to score in the scrimmage at hand.

He watches the way you smirk before turning to your friends who bump shoulders with you, teasing each other with pointed glaces and twisting feet.

Look at you, so happy to give your attention away; to show you have other options, one that leaves Harry jealous and fighting to regain focus.

“Alright, I’m calling it in.” Ed nods to him once checking his watch. That’s his cue to trail across the field while the head coach draws the team in.

The nylon of his pants swishes with each stride before he’s leaning down collecting the pylons. His body makes its way across the field picking up the yellow plastic, white lines shifting his version that he doesn’t realize he’s near you. Close enough to see your gleaming smile and hear little about the conversation in the group.

It’s when leaning down to pick up the equipment do your eyes catch on each other. Head swishing to the side as you smile happily. Your finger twirls the ends of your hair with body shifting against the grass as you ignore whatever words are being said.

Harry watches clearly the way your head twists around and slowly, but subtly nods towards the array of trees that comb over the grounds of the school. Your eyebrows raise in question before listening to your friends.

Was this your plan all along? With your friends too distracted with each other to realize your actions to lure him out there. Was this what you were plotting this whole time? Low waisted shorts and dreamy eyes simply directing him where to meet once practice is over.

You’re too good at this, too conceited and happy to get whatever you want. Even if you were just delighted to have Lucas' attention you still want more.

Harry trails his view off you when picking up the remaining equipment before joining the team for the cool down of the practice.

He puts all the pinneys and pylons together, palms securing everything in their respective bags until he’s tugging off towards the equipment room. His body carried him down the flight of stairs while looking out towards the window just parallel to the steps.

Harry watches your body stalking into the woods and he can’t help the smirk that tugs at the end of his lips as he goes down the rest of the stones.

Leaves and sticks crunch below your Converse, fingers feeling over the light green blades that feels like velvet against the pad of your skin. The tug at the end of your lip is hard not to resist with your veins pulsing at what could possibly happen if you see Mr. Styles again.

This game of cat and mouse was your specialty, being able to have your way with teachers and peers so attractive and delectable. You could always tell with their breath catching and shaky voice that it was right to purpose the match.

Your perfect grades and kind attitude shines over your deeper thoughts, your favorite desires, the ones that have you tugging your way into the forest of the school right now.

Your head twists up to catch shadows of the trees as your steps still venture out east of the school, far from the usual make out spots on the property.

Will he even come? The way he turned away from you on the field was giving he wasn’t even interested, and all because of Luca and his dumb note; the one you got called out on.

You like having your secrets unknown to each other, all your lies being covered with pearly white teeth and bending spine. You were subtle with handing your own note off to your favorite teacher, if it all went well then you were certain he would show up to meet. But your boy toy around school had other plans when deciding to get you tangled in your tactics.

Stuttering and looking up at Mr. Styles caught in the aftermath of flirty eyes and bouncing breasts. You hate that he had ruin your chances, you’re not quite sure when you’ll be near your teacher again without it being so obvious from friends and peers. It was such a risky game that you loved to play despite having yourself caught up last semester.

It’s a good thing you’re so good at batting your lashes and talking so sweetly you managed to get away, but now it was a tab left in your mother’s mind and it certainly wounded your step-father. Your right hand goes to your mouth and begins to chew on your nail from the anxiety festering from the memories. You need to be sharper and have all your little white lies arranged better, you can’t manage to slip up again.

Steps finally come to a halt, body twisting around to rest along the wide tree with unruly bushes growing around it. Perfect. Your back slouches against the stumb as your hand tears away from your mouth.

You could barely see the field or the school's architecture from your place. You can only hope Mr. Styles would find you if he was still interested.

He has to be… he still stares at you longingly especially on your lips. Bet he’s remembering your moment together, the one that you can’t stop thinking about. How he made your throat swell and voice all raspy… how you had to pretend in front of the principal you didn’t just swallow your teacher's load.

You want more of him. He’s all you think about when Luca would he kissing down your neck or when your step-father is in your ear whispering how much he misses you, Mr. Styles was the only one on your mind when everything would be happening.

When the thick Bradford accent on the other end of the phone describes everything he would do, all you can think of is your teacher and what he would do in his place. Where his hands would spread amongst your body, or where his lips would find themselves on your skin.

The cracking of branches brings you out of your thoughts, your fingers running over the ends of your shorts as you see brown hair come into sight.

So he did show up, trialing after you like you thought he would. The ends of your lips curl up as you relax deeper into the wood. Mr. Styles continues his steps into the space, his eyes darting around until you whistle sweetly to catch his attention.

“Fancy seeing you around,” You perk up, feet crossing over each other as you watch him make his way over.

His body covered in a black tracksuit certainly making him appealing with his bulky frame. Humming softly your tongue peeks out to swipe along your bottom lip. The thoughts of him manhandling you from your teasing ways makes your clit begin to swell.

“Bunny…” He greets with hands wrapping around your waist. Tall frame pushing you deeper into the stumb as he looks over your face.

“Daddy…” You utter, peering up at him through doe eyes, the same ones that have him falling every time.

“I missed you,” Whispering up at him sweetly. Your hands leave your shorts to pull at the band of his track pants.

Those words have the teacher surveying your every feature with fingers curling tighter around your hips. Mr. Styles is so handsome with his grainy stubble and board chest. The way he’s pining you into the tree has you moaning quietly as you straighten your back.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” His words send a wave of annoyance through you. The eye roll you find yourself doing is completely unintentional as your head knocks into the wood.

“That wasn’t my fault,” You huff, fingers snaking along his boxers while looking up at him.

“Oh, really?” Playful cheer in the teacher’s voice as his palms venture down your hips and feel over your cheeks. The motions so possessive from his huge hands that the moan that trails from you has him groaning as well.

“It wasn’t, because you know…” Mr. Styles' face draws closer with each word as he towers over you. “You’re all I can think about.”

The pads of your fingers gaze across his happy trail, mouth parting slightly as you lift yourself onto your toes closer to him, the taste that you’ve been craving just inches away.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

His teasing tone and rough hands have you begging just to close the space around him. It’s why your nails leave scratches against the older man’s skin, whining high in your throat so desperate for him.

“All the time,” Warmth of your movements draw deeper down his pelvis. “I think about you when I shower in the morning… touching myself thinking you're there with me.”

Deep growl rumbles through Mr. Styles, his teeth biting into his lip as he steps closer. His hips parallel with yours as you curl your hand around his cock, thick bead of pre-cum smearing along his crown as you keep your gaze strong.

“Having me up against the wall, water between us… daddy, I always imagine how good you would fuck me.” Torturing him with your lewd thoughts whenever alone and thinking about your favorite person.

“Just stretching me out all nice and wide… you’re so big… all nice and thick, I still remember how you fucked my throat.” The older man can’t stop himself from landing a furious smack against your ass. Tiny squeak leaving you as you fall to your heels.

“What else do you think about princess?” He ask, lips so dangerously close your breath is wavering.

Your hand grips tighter around Mr. Styles cock, his hips inching closer to you as he palms over your backside. Happy would be an understatement about how you feel at the moment. He’s finally here and under your spell again, just the way you like him.

“I think about you beneath me…” Tongue skimming across your flesh as you slide down him with ease, the fluid drawing from him makes the twist of your movements much easier as he leans in deeper.

“Kissing down my stomach, feeling up my thighs, licking where I want you the most,” Lashes flutter as his mouth inches closer and closer to you. “Don’t you think about my pussy daddy?”

Those very words have him capturing your lips with his. The muted taste of peppermint lingering along his tongue rubs against yours, spit being exchanged with haste as he can’t help his fingers from slinking between your thighs and feeling over the very place you want him.

He’s rubbing the spot there, rough ends of his digits massaging over your clothed area. It’s harsh and swift as they draw down your folds, an electric surge tingling down your spine feeling him around you all over again.

Mr. Styles is all rugged with his growing beard and bulky frame. He could easily manhandle you any kind of way but he treats you so delicately. You couldn’t imagine how he’ll spread you nice and wide, it’s all that’s been on your mind when you pass by him in the hall or stare up at him in class. Those very thoughts that have you breaking away from the kiss with a whimper.

“How I’ll feel around you…” Fingers contracting around his length as you bow your eyes at him slowly. “How I’ll stretch around you…” Lips curling in on each other savoring the taste of him on your buds. “How I taste… don’t you think about that a lot Mr. Styles… how my pussy would taste on your tongue?”

And he’s groaning in his throat, his teeth tugging on his bottom lip as his hands leave their position and drape to their previous one. His head cranes down to press wet kisses along the expanse of your neck, your hips being held strongly against the bark.

“Yes bunny… I do.” Your head turns against the wood from the adrenaline coursing through, his breath drapes warm and heavy amongst your skin that you moan at the feel.

In his new position you retrieve your hands and place them on either side of his face, your eyes watching closely as he breathes over your belly button with sight connecting to yours.

His hands drag up and down the expanse of your stomach before his fingers catch onto the band of your shorts, head wandering deeper down and staring up at you while doing so.

The lined cotton shorts that once grace your hips draw down swiftly with your panties, they pool around your feet with his hands drawing back up your naked thighs, feverish pecks roaming over your abdomen until pressing into your love handles.

“Oh daddy… won’t you make me feel good?” Fingers curling into his hair and ruffling with it. You always wanted to do that. Feel his hair rubbing against your stomach and kisses littering your inner thigh, it’s finally happening and you couldn’t be more excited.

Mr. Styles is looking up at you, sun highlighting the green in his eyes and his long lashes that blink up. And with the soft breeze whisking itself through the forest do you whimper at the feeling of it passing through your lower half.

“Yes, bunny.” Said so deep and husky that your fingers scratch along his scalp. His hand that dragged along your thigh urges your leg up, you don’t hesitate to prop it up your side with his help to keep it there.

Mr. Styles breath floats along your inner thighs, light smears of his wet lips pressing along the skin that you whine high in your throat. You don’t know how much time you have, but you doubt anyone is looking for either of you or going further past the school grounds to come look. You’re sure you’re safe but still, there’s always the possibility of someone seeing or finding you.

It’s why all movements are so rushed yet lucid, his tongue dragging sloppily along your thighs as he moves towards your pussy. A relieving sigh leaving when his tongue skims over your folds, eyes still locked on each other as his grip tightens over you.

“Daddy,” Soft call of his name trailing out as he leans in again to lick you, a pleasant hum vibrates over you that your eyes bat slowly at the feel.

The delicious drag of his tongue lying flat against your pussy as he draws his head up in lengthy strides makes your foot bend in your Converse. This is what you’ve always dreamt about; his tongue eating you out, and it’s even better that you tell he’s enjoying it with his fingers scratching into your skin all hungry.

“Like how I taste, daddy?”

A deep groan pulsates throughout you to answer which has your head knocking back into the tree. Sweet moan falling from your lips as your knee against the stumb bends a bit, pussy sinking deeper against Mr. Styles tongue as he draws up your folds.

One hand leaves his curls and goes towards the one holding your thigh up, his head rocking up and down in rush strides that you begin following his movements. Wet muscle flexing against every swivel and drag, his forest orbs loving the way your lips fall apart and moan from his touch. He lets you take charge and ride his tongue just the way you like if that's the attention you need… the attention you deserve.

His tongue drags up along your clit and in the moment you don’t hesitate to tug his head back and circle your waist along him. The width of his tongue swallowing your clit up so beautifully that it’s better than everything you imagined, and the fact he’s a grown man letting you ride his face, god he’s the best daddy ever.

Your head leans forward, teeth biting down on your lip as you gently move him against your circling hips.

“You’re so good to me daddy.”

Mr. Styles' eyes close slowly even more aroused from your words and the fact you taste like honey. His nails leave crescent moons into skin as he lets you drag yourself all over him. Just as hot as it is to be getting off using him, Harry was a slave to your tactics getting off to your sweet nectar and melodic voice dripping in sex.

Between the slurps of him eating your pussy to the moans expelling every time you swivel your hips harder against him, the scene is one of greed. Pure old fashioned greed of wanting nothing more than to ruin each other. It’s such a dangerous game but it’s so fun, luring him in and pulling at his heart strings all because it was entertaining to you.

“Like the way I ride you?” His tongue tenses against your movements, his head bobbing shallowly that leaves you to let out a breathless sigh.

And to think after calling you out hours ago when catching you with someone else Mr. Styles is here right now eating your pussy, and loving it.

He’s the daddy you need, the one that goes over and beyond to prove where your eyes should be focused on. He’s really the best, doing all this just to prove to you the place he wants in your life.

“Do you want me to ride your cock like this?” Lazy smirk tugging at the end of your lips with brow raising slightly, your motions losing momentum as you look down at him.

His mouth flexes against your folds, lips pressing open kisses back along your thighs. Wet juices dragging along your skin as your grip over him relaxes. Your thigh falls lucid by your leg, his touch drawing back up your skin as he finds his way up your body.

“Bunny,” Mr. Styles breathes against your clothed stomach. The sweet exchange that once coats his mouth disappears once dragging along the shirt. His lips trailing back up your neck and pressing onto your cheeks.

“I don’t know how much time we have left.”

You shake your head confidently, hands now drawing up his shoulders and stepping closer to him. You’re sure there’s nothing to worry about, almost positive you had enough time to have him the way you want.

“Please…” Lips pout slightly as you get him to peer into your eyes, your canine tooth catching on your lip before you’re smiling innocently at him. “I’m all nice and tight for you, don’t you want to feel daddy?”

Mr. Styles groans lowly, his face shifting amongst yours as he slots your lips against each other. The sweet taste of yourself flows along your tongue and you love every bit of it knowing that he adores it even more at the moment. The juices that you expel with the mix of your saliva, it’s a delicious brew that you're sure he wants forever from the way his fingers grip onto your hips.

He’s thought of this moment so many times yet can’t believe it’s happening, and the words you speak, he’s nearly coming from the sweet sound and the way you say his name.

Tongues dance along each other in a rushed frenzy not knowing how much longer it’ll be till this moment happens again. Your lips feel over the soft pricks of his stubble, hands drawing along his chest and moaning at the possessiveness over the kiss. His tongue flows against yours with such dominance you moan against him before pulling away with a bite at his lip.

“Just lay down for me, please?” You ask all sweet and doe eyed, nails dotting against the nylon of his jacket as you stare up at him.

And he’s unsure, with sight looking between you and the scenery around. A gentle sigh escapes as he nods his head lightly. “Okay.”

The grin that shines across your lips is bright and cheery, your eyes watching him closely as his knees begin to bend and you don’t hesitate to follow. Your hands fitting themselves on each side of his head, hips resting along his stomach with your face becoming parallel to each other.

“Been thinking about this since I met you.” Head leaning forward and dotting kisses against his chin, his hands by his side tug at the top of his track pants to pull them down.

“Looking at you in class… thinking about you fucking me on my desk.” Rush breath combing over his neck as you litter him with love. “Or yours.” Giggle trailing out so adorably that Mr. Styles moans at the sound. His hand draws away from the fabric of his joggers and lands a scolding slap amongst your ass.

“Dirty girl.” He mutters, fingers spreading you wide while rocking you over his erection.

“Only for you daddy.”

Leaning back on your knees, your hands slide towards your t-shirt and tug it over your head. Your breasts on display as you balance yourself amongst his waist, arm going behind your back and palming his cock.

“Want you inside me.” You say while blindly releasing him from his confines and twisting him slowly.

Mr. Styles rests on his elbows as he watches you raise up, the beautiful sight of his bunny bare and ready to take him, this is too good to be true.

His teeth poke out from his mouth and catch on his lips, stomach dipping with heavy breaths as he watches you lower yourself. Your puffy folds spread wide as his cock fills you up slowly, long whine tearing from your throat as he swallows you up inch by inch. The stretch of him has your body leaning forward with other hand curling around his jacket anxiously.

“Jesus.” Mr. Styles breathes with hand steadying your hips as he leans up, the tight feel of you around him makes his fingers curl deeper into your skin while you sink further onto his lap. “Bunny, fuck.” Your knees clench around his waist as you sigh pleasantly.

Plush walls nestle his throbbing cock gracing your sweet spot so heavenly that you’re shuddering against him. Your hips rubbing against his pelvis only increasing the fraction that has you crying out in satisfaction.

“Daddy, you fill me up so good.” Both hands gather up his arms and to the nape of his neck, your mouths lean forward breathing in each other's moans.

“You’re so tight bunny.” He follows your motions as your head knocks into his forehead.

You hum with your mouth going dry, eyes batting at him slowly as you find the strength to rise up on your knees and slowly grind yourself. Delicious spread of your pussy accepting every stride of him.

The combination of his spit and your juices leaves a squelching sob sound every time your hips meet. Walls flexing around every loving rhythmic stroke, whine high in the back of your throat as your fingers press deeply into his skin.

“So sweet, so dirty, just the way I like you.” Mr. Styles breathes over your lips. Your mouth catching his filthy words and swallowing them up loving the taste.

His grip over your hips guides your movements, eyes hanging low and watching every bounce of yourself riding him to the way your nose twitches. The thickness of him swells every crevice that succumbs to him filling you up. It’s leaving you numb with pleasure allowing him to draw you down in repetitive motions.

“I love the way you stretch around me, bunny” His lips curving the slope of your nose when you bow your head.

This moment was more than your dreams. The man that’s been fucking you in your every thought now helping you slide down his dick with such ease. Telling you just how he likes you, and how he loves the way you expand around him, he’s the best teacher. Your favorite one.

Lips collide in messy motions, slipping across each other with moans and groans trailing out. The hands of both of you sinking deeper and deeper as you both chase your highs.

The crinkles of leaves shift under your bodies, shadows of trees gracing across your bouncing breasts as Mr. Styles continues to guide your movements. Mouths catching along each other hurriedly with thighs twitching to curl deeper against him, the shock of stabs running down your neck causes your spine to bend at the feeling.

“Daddy… m’gonna…” Mouth parting away from him as your forehead drags along his cheek, breath coming out rushed as you feel your climax making itself known.

“Gonna come on daddy’s cock? You love my dick, don’t you?” His words deep in your ear making you lose all sense in your knees when going silk around him.

Your head twists deeper across his skin, eyes barely staying open as the squished grass amongst the floor bobs in your vision. Mr. Styles takes complete control over you as his hands keep your waist flexing around him.

Your pussy quivers and trembles from his words, adding fury to the spikes of arousal barreling down joyously. Your mouth hangs open, nails scratching into his skin as you continue feeling his cock tagging your cervix each time.

“Oh, fuck,” You moan completely distraught with stomach twitching. Your jerking hips take control of your weak motions as you find the strength to runt yourself into his lap.

Clit rubbing beautifully against the light bush along his pelvis chasing your high. You groan pleasantly at the head of his cock dragging across your sweet spot, your climax welcoming itself with your pussy contracting around him.

And instead of Mr. Styles guiding you back up his length he’s following your movements and thrusting into your hips. Piercing jabs adding to the sensation of pulsing shocks spreading through.

“Feel so good bunny,” He moans into your bobbing head, lips trailing down the hair matted to your shoulder. Sweet smell of your perfume gracing his nostrils that leaves him growling against your skin.

Fingers shake against his flexing shoulders, lips bitten and cracked letting air shallowly fill your lungs. Your pussy is bruised and sore from the girth of your teacher assaulting every inch that welcomes him.

“You’re so deep daddy,” Sweet voice running across his blushing skin. It’s damp with tiny strands connecting hair against his temples, his adam’s apple bobbing heavily with his fingers digging deeper into your skin; clear that your words affect him.

It’s your favorite thing to do with this game you play. How your words are so angelic yet dirty, leaving Mr. Styles, your boy toy and step-father vulnerable messes every time you're around. Cracked voices and growing erections always being your sight at just a simple bat of an eye. It’s so easy to have whoever you want be able to play.

It’s why you continue being alluring; dreamy moans carrying into his ears with hands sliding up into his hair, tousling every lock as you rotate your hips against his thrusts. The change in rhythm and pulsing beats of your pussy around Harry makes him hiss. Head dropping swiftly against your shoulder till you catch him quickly, nails tugging his head back as you peer into his eyes and ride his cock.

“Fuck me nice and wide,” Waist swiveling against his grip trying to strain your movements. Green eyes look up at your lips while his part in bliss accepting your heavenly pussy gracing him. “Stretch me so good daddy.”

Teasing breath fanning over his face as your breasts rub against the material of his jacket, your scent showers over him with your pussy wrapping around his cock deliciously, the sight clear of how he’s a slave to you and the way you make him feel.

“Don’t you want to fill me up?” Harry moans with eyes blinking slowly, his fingers beginning to loosen against your motions.

Your pussy coats his dick in creamy fluid adding to the pleasure of your walls dragging down him. Your fingers itch at his scalp, lips leaning towards his and nearly connecting as you smile.

“Don’t you want me to make you a daddy?”

Words having Mr. Styles whining high in his throat, hands twitching against your hips just as his seed spills into you. Fingers twitching and jaw tensing as he stares up in complete admiration. His waist stills against yours, eyes blinking slowly in a daze as you still grin at him, swiveling your hips and whispering sweet nothings.

“Such a thick load, sir.”

Hands relaxing around his curls while his fall from your waist, Harry’s sight completely enveloped by your words that he can’t help the lazy smile that tugs along his lips when you giggle at his expression.

“Mm… you’re really the best.” You hush, hips moving slowly as your chest begins to relax.

“It’s clear that’s up for debate.” Mr. Styles smirks, fingers feeling over the blades of grass below. But even if it’s a playful tease, his words taint your heart.

“It’s only you, I’m so serious sir,” You sigh, head shifting with bottom lip jutting out.

He gives you a pointed glare as if not believing you — not that he should, but it’s entertaining to make him jealous… teasing him just how you like. It’s why you find yourself rolling your eyes and raising up on your sore knees. The motion of you sitting off his lap and slipping him out turns his attention. His come drips out and flows down the expanse of his cock.

Humming delighted at the site, your hand trails out of his hair and between your legs. Fingers seeping into your pussy and catching the reminder of him onto your fingertips to carry into your mouth. Tongue welcoming the muted taste of your teacher and moaning playfully.

“Bunny.” He whines, eyes watching closely as you dip back between you both and collect the rest running down his cock and sucking them off your fingers again. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

The laugh that escapes you is adorable when you lean into his chest, hands moving to his shoulders and forcing him to fall back against the grass which he does gently. His own hands run down your spine as you shift around on his body.

“Wouldn’t that be amazing?” You sigh, fingers trailing up his neck and drawing along the definition of his jaw as he looks up at the sky.

The laugh that leaves the older man is light and cherished, one that has you smiling as you let his touch roam all over your skin.

His heart beats against your ear, lungs rising steadily with your bodies fitting together. The sun is still shining brightly with the breeze passing by every few moments. The quiet atmosphere of this area makes it feel private and safe.

“Sir?” Voice raised in question as your fingertip glides against the bridge of his nose just in time for him to hum in response.

“You never did tell me why you call me bunny?” Lips piercing together tightly as his touch begins to draw circles up your spine in swirls.

“Your eyes,” He whispers as he looks at the clouds passing across.

Your brows perk up at that. Your eyes? You knew they were quite alluring but not to that extent. Yet, that was the nickname that he gave you, the one feature that stood out the most to him. Not cherry, or baby like your other two flings.

“My eyes?” You reiterate. Head trailing off to the side as you pass your finger across his lips. The motion has him playfully biting on your nail till you’re retreating back to draw along his cheeks with a giggle.

“Yes… there so doe and soft, like a bunny. My bunny.” You hum acknowledging his words in admiration.

So that’s what he thought, that’s what stuck out the most. It was adorable and unique. So different compared to what you’re familiar with.

“When do you think we can do this again?” Your voice mutters against his chest. It makes Mr. Styles draw his hands away and lean up on his elbows.

His eyes go towards your shirt and grabs it, the material falls into your grip and you don’t hesitate to lean back and slip it over your head, sight still caught on the older man.

“I don’t know… it’s too risky,” His view looking over your naked thighs that hold his abdomen to the poor expression turning up over your face.

“Oh come on,” You huff, rolling your eyes and drawing away from his body. You twist off him with hands leaning towards your undergarments inches away.

“W —What are you getting all upset about? Even right now is pushing it,” His own actions cover himself back up as you scoff in response. “Don’t act like this.”

Another exaggerated sigh falls from your mouth before fixing your shorts around your hips, sight narrowing on the green streaks across your shirt before turning to look at the teacher now standing.

“I’ll act however I please,” You mumble, teeth clenching down on each other as Mr. Styles groans with annoyance, his hand stretching towards you but you’re quick enough to retreat back.

“So, even if it’s this spot for the exact same time?” You rephrase, heart knocking against your chest as you tangle your arms together.

“No Y/N, god… don’t you get it? Don’t you see my job on the line just to be here right now?”

“Fine.”

“Would you stop?”

“No.”

Your eyes watch every frustrated movement from the body parallel of you who bows his head in disbelief of the situation.

Of course he wants to see you again, of course he wants to wrap himself all around you but this puts too much stress over everything on his plate.

“Let’s just talk this over?”

“No, I’m good.”

Your teeth shining happily as you shift your head to the side and watch Mr. Styles inhale deeply. his body stepping closer still attempting to hold you.

“I’ll walk my way around to the front… you can go back from where you came from.” Simple nod of your head before your gracefully turning around beginning your departure. You’re trailing off so quickly he doesn’t even have the chance to catch you slipping through his fingers.

He just had you and now it’s already over.

Harry should’ve really expected this though. He should’ve anticipated your stubborn reaction to his words, he should’ve really thought over them because now you’re making his life a living hell.

You couldn’t wait a week, or even a couple days, you really couldn’t wait at all. Because the next afternoon you showed up to class five minutes late, walking through the door with a simple smirk on your lips and “sorry!” so sweet and delectable that he let you get away with it, of course he would, far as he knows he’s on punishment.

But, when you cut your eyes in a wicked glare did he realize who else was missing from the class, his own lacrosse player. Your heels echoed to your seat eerily to him amongst the shuffling of the other students, and when you sat in your chair with lips now a teasing grin did Luca soft knock sound on the door before he stepped in.

His collar was obnoxiously up high, clear what was litter amongst his skin. The sight had Harry clenching his jaw unbearably tight, his eyes going to you who conceitedly winked at him. It didn’t help that the other students began to snicker, adding to the fury of Harry turning his fingers in on themselves while continuing the class.

That was only the beginning though; now when passing in the halls you completely ignored him, acting as if he wasn’t there. When seeing you in the pillars of the school with Luca by your side, you made sure to wink at him, or sometimes Harry will see him drop you off to class, catching sight on his hands grabbing the skin he doesn’t deserve.

You continue showing up late; sometimes your boyfriend trailing behind, sometimes not. You stop raising your hand and involving yourself in class discussions and begin to pay attention to the birds outside or doodling in your book. Notes start being exchanged even more between you and the blonde classmate, one time you even left one on your desk that Harry took up.

Can I eat you out tonight?

Luca

His messy writing covered the paper that Harry closed his fist around. His feet stalked over to the garbage and threw it into the trash.

You’re fucking with him so badly, so terribly, why are treating him like this?

He doesn’t feel any better that he tried to be reasonable, trying to get you to understand that your endeavors couldn’t be consistent, it would be too much for the both of you.

But, it’s tempting… so tempting to want to pull you in after class and tell you that he’s done with your antics and to take him back. Go back to being his sweet bunny with doe eyes and bitten lips, go back to writing his nickname across the page of your test and showing him your sweet plump cheeks.

It’s already bad enough he’s coming into his hand every night just thinking about your pussy around him again. Your sweet voice telling him your dirty thoughts, the ones that have been on your mind since meeting. He wants more of you, he needs more honestly, and the way you’re acting isn’t helping him at all.

He can deal with you being with Luca because Harry knows deep down he doesn’t satisfy you the way you like. He’s certain you don’t fancy him much and is just using him to toy with his feelings, but he’ll accept that.

It’s Friday night and it’s the annual parent teacher meeting. Students in their pressed and polished uniforms standing alongside their parents as they walk across campus displaying to them their life while here.

Harry hasn’t seen you yet and he’s thankful, he’s suppose to meet your mother and he’s trying to keep his nerves at bay. His fingers are tapping timidly inside his pocket as he smiles at Gabriel's mother who boasts about the upcoming lacrosse tournament.

His eyes watch the way her skin folds over in wrinkles when she smiles happily, while her son looks annoyed and Harry can’t help the breathless laugh that leaves him when noticing.

“The boys have been putting in great work this year, I’m sure we’ll be getting the trophy.” Harry beams while Gabriel rolls his eyes at his teacher.

“It’s all he talks about when I call him… but, let’s me not keep you, we still have to see Mrs. Randall.” Fading auburn hair shifting with each nod of her head as she leaves the community hall looking for the science teacher.

It’s when the loving mother exits the door does he see his bunny slip in. Manicure and dazzling accessories shining over your shoulder as your mother walks into the room, and it isn’t the sight of her that has Harry shocked, no, it’s the man that steps through right after with tattoos littered in the revealing parts of his suit. All over his hands and up his neck, if Harry were to assume, he would be around his age, with thick beard growing in and slight tiredness swelling around his eyes.

He can tell from his appearance you don’t look quite similar, you resemble your mother more than anything but he doesn’t stare too long. Not with the way you begin to walk towards him with both parents on either side.

The chatter in the room is filled with other guardians and teachers making small talk either about the curriculum or the school's pretentious history, and somehow in all that noise it doesn’t seem to drown out the footsteps of bodies making their way over to him.

“Mr. Styles?” Thin lips of your mother sing in a cheerful tune as she sways from side to side.

He remembers you telling him about your mother. How she sent you to school once given the chance, yet she’s all bubbly and happy as if you have a place in her life, as if all the words you spoke were nothing but pure lies.

“Yes ma’am, that’s me!” Harry smiles softly, hand reaching out and she takes it genuinely. Soft touch enveloping him in a strong shake as he bows his head.

“You must be Y/N mother,” He continues, their hands parting as he looks down at you. For once your sight is looking up at him, your attention actually focus on him, and it makes Harry swallow heavily.

“She has told me so much about you, all good things! Saying how you’ve made her enjoy history even, she was never quite fond of it in her past schoolings but, you’ve made it her favorite!”

His brows raise up at that, mouth parting slightly in shock before grinning happily looking between you and your mother. So, you’ve been telling her about him? And saying his teachings are your favorite subject. You’re confusing him with your hot and cold games, but it’s even worse that he enjoys being in the middle of it.

“I never knew she said that? I’m so happy to hear,” Harry smiles before his hand is turning towards the man to the left of you. “And you must be Mr—”

“—Malik.”

His words cut off the teacher to correct him but doesn’t stop them from their hands meeting, strong grip over each other as his brown eyes look over him longingly, examining every inch of him.

“My apologies…” Harry sighs before turning to your mother to divert his gaze from your step-father. “But yes, she’s doing amazing in class. I'm glad it’s become her favorite.”

And he sees the way your face begins to heat up, how your eyes watched every motion of him shaking your father’s hand as if stunned this moment is happening. Harry wants to laugh, he wants to chuckle in your face because of course he’s caught you again, lying about having a father figure, this is cold bunny.

“Oh! Mom, they have that sparkling juice I was talking about, the one you should use for the dinner?” Your voice enters the conversation nervously as you look towards her. Hand going to her elbow as you direct her to the assortment of drinks and snacks on the table under the bulletin board.

“Just one second!” Your mother smiles at Harry before letting you lead her away.

Before Harry can even admire the sight of you all flustered and caught up from your parents meeting the teacher you’ve been tormenting for months, the laugh next to him has his direction turning towards the heavily tattoo man.

“Isn’t she funny?” Mr. Malik asks, lips tugged to the side as he shuffles on his feet. Harry can’t help but take one of his hands out of its confines and cough into it.

“Yes, she has quite the humor,” He agrees, fingers running over his hips smoothly as he shifts his posture.

Your step-father is looking up at him with such a questioning glare that Harry can feel his ears begin to beat with warmth, his eyes dying to break the fight over whatever is crossing his mind.

You always have tricks up your sleeves, always have another way to shine your dazzling teeth to get away with something else, and it’s another one of those moments. Body turned away from your daddy and father ignoring the fact they’re in the same room.

Aren’t you a nervous little thing when all caught up? It’s quite adorable.

“Are you playing?”

The question draws Harry’s eyebrows together, lips parting and sight concentrated heavier on the man next to him.

“I’m sorry?”

“With cherry? Are you playing with her?”

Cherry? His bunny is cherry to him. Oh? So this is why you’re so nervous and looking more distraught than when he caught you with that note.

You’re not nervous at the fact Harry knows you lied about your parents, but the fact you already had a father figure in your life, one that plays with you already and does everything that he wants when given the chance. That’s why you ran away.

“Oh? I —I didn’t… I haven’t…” Harry’s voice trails off as his sight goes towards you pouring another glass of the grape juice for your mother to try.

“So, it’s true then?” His eyes trail back to the older man who holds a smug grin, and when his hand pats down on his shoulder roughly, it makes Harry let out an uncomfortable laugh.

“I must say… she does get what she wants.” Mr. Malik sight combs over the teacher before releasing his hold.

It has Harry relaxing and throat clear as his nose crinkles up. His bunny with someone else? He could get over Luca, he really could care less… but the man in front of him —the one you lied about so innocently— is standing before him not even surprised by the teachers place in your life, you’ve broken his heart bunny.

“Is she always like this?” Harry finds himself asking without thought, his brows relaxing as he tries to collect all the memories of everything you said from the first encounter.

“If you’re who she likes, yeah I guess… I’m not sure how it works in her head, she got me a few years ago…” Mr. Malik admits before breaking their gaze and looking over at you, and Harry can’t stop himself from doing it also. “You know, it really did catch me off guard when I found out about what she did first semester.”

Harry’s fingers curl in on themselves from hearing the truth. So it was all true, you did try to seduce a teacher, that’s why you’re at this school. That’s why you play this game with him, because you like this attention… you like having your way with the people you desire, you’re so dirty bunny.

“I didn’t know that,” He says, with hands crossing over his chest as he now leans against the brick wall. The relevance of the news has Mr. Malik turning, his eyebrows furrowed with a cheesy grin.

“Really?” He says with a shake of his head, body relaxing next to the teacher.

“I also didn’t know about you… I mean, being her father and all.”

“Step.” He emphasizes giving a pointed look, and Harry nods his head in acknowledgement.

“Yes, step-father.” He confirms before whistling weakly.

Your lies are finally spread out for the both of them to see. It really took today for him to see past everything and get the real information about you that he really wanted, the one he’s been seeking from the beginning.

His mind is a whirlwind of emotions and memories of what you both shared in such little time. “It’s only you, I’m serious sir.” Those were your words, said with such purity he believed you. But now it’s so clear how you like to be shared, how you like to be passed around for everyone.

Harry thought all this time that what you really needed was mentorship, soon that turned into some well deserved attention, but now, he thinks he sees your true intentions, the real reason why your eyes glimmer with happiness every time.

“I purpose we make some changes to her game,” Mr. Malik remarks, his white teeth showing as his lips stretch, and Harry can’t help but nod in agreement.

“I think we should make some new rules.”

[kidspawn]

Oh so actually, yeah I will defend early day Adam and Blue and the fact that they dated and that it's crucial to both of them. Not just because it shows us what they both needed in a relationship, and why they didn't work with each other for their conflicting needs (though that is an excellent point and one I attribute to their narrative relevance.) but also because... they're really important to each other?

Adam and Blue meet, and it's when Adam is worried about being judged for who he is and Blue wanting to be wanted (and not just useful which is a concept that breaks me because ahhhhh) and they actually challenge that with each other? Blue is drawn to Adam because while he is attractive, he's also something different - she sees a fray in his jacket, and she likes that he isn't the typical Raven Boy. She likes this aspect of Adam he worries about being judged for. And you can say all you do about how Blue describes him in comparison to something dusty or how she compares him to traits of himself he detests, but while Adam dislikes these things Blue likes this about him. I cannot stress that enough. It was not what Adam needed (this is something Gansey, actually, needed) but it was important.

Blue wants to be wanted, to be around someone who sees her as more than just useful. And, yes, Adam does seem to evaluate her based on how useful she will be to the group, but it's important to note that Adam is drawn to Blue because he wants to be around her. He thinks she's funny. He thinks she's pretty. He legitimately likes her as a person. He seeks her out for physical comfort, not just because she's useful but because he likes being around her, he wants her, he wants her company. There is a lot you can say about how Adam equates usefulness with love and affection and he definitely values Blue based on her usefulness in the group but it's more than that. He envies her ease with which she makes friends, the confidence she has in herself. (Adam + Envy is also a prevalent theme with how he experiences attraction.) Adam genuinely admires Blue as a person. He wants to be around her, appreciates her input and her presence. And that was important to Blue at the moment.

And, yes, the ultimate issue comes into their conflicting needs in a relationship, but I think when it comes to Blue and Adam it's such a beautiful exploration of what a short-term romance brings to teenagers. It's common to explore relationships through these awkward fumbles between what you need in the moment and what you need in the long term. They get those awkward, first relationship jitters and anxieties together, they learn what they both need and value going further into their teen years. And it is messy and complex and all over the place and very hormonal. And that is a really precious thing to explore in a shorter relationship, especially with a friend, and with a person you feel understands you. (Something neither of them had gotten.) Also, if they hadn't dated they wouldn't have brought the group together. Poverty twin rizz, guys. They really carried the first book on their backs.

Anyway, my point is that Blue and Adam together are very valuable to the story, their character arcs, and please know you can give them the respect they deserve without detracting from Bluesey or Pynch or detracting from the significance of their friendships. I actually think if they'd been given more time, that platonic dynamic would've been one of the strongest in the series. Because when you share such a valuable milestone (the horrors of teen dating) you bond on a level many don't understand or relate to. Blue and Adam I love you.

[mintedwitcher]

Maybe I should come off anon to have an actual conversation because I think what you said the whole them not committing to the effects of the Kim arc makes a lot of sense. Character assassination may have been a strong term for me to use but I think I meant it more in the terms of the fact that they kinda threw Kim there and did nothing with Eddie's character about it. Like okay yes, Chris goes away but that's it. And while that is the worst thing that can happen to a parent beyond their child actually dying, the show let's it fall flat. We get a bit of kinda depressed Eddie and the whole find joy priest thing, but for a plot point that could have been so interesting they fumbled it to the point of why even have it? Again I love the concept of the character Eddie Diaz. I have all these things I wish they did but they won't. Like the whole PTSD thing, that's a life long struggle and it's brought up once. They introduced the man by having him remove a grenade from a person outside of a war zone?!! HE WAS SHOT! AND THEY DID NOTHING!!! Sure we can write away he was expecting the grenade to go off he was prepared for it, even the helicopter when they introduced Taylor Kelly (who i also love, kinda wish they kept her around because Buck needs a friend who will tell him when his support system is being shitty and it's okay to be angry with the people he cares about and I feel like her and Tommy would have great bitch out sessions), dont even get me started on the whole fight ring thing. There was zero build up to that besides him punching one guy who definitely deserved it.

And I've lost the plot again. What you said about how they could have handled the Kim situation would have made great TV. And from a writers perspective I can understand why she was a good plot device but from a viewers it fell so flat and was disappointed.

Let me add another random topic. I feel like I would be so much more behind Buck and Tommy if they gave us even one scene with Tommy apologizing to Hen and Chim. As an audience we can assume since they reached out to him for help they must have made up at some point, and I understand the whole internalized homophobia and trying to fit in at the good old boys club had a heavy hand in what Tommy was like in the Hen and Chimney Begins episodes, but I just want one apology about how even if we dont see him activity participating in the whole old 118 being shitty to new people especially POCs, queer, and women how he acted was wrong, he'd probably actually move up to one of my favorite characters. Because god to I love how Lou plays that man, he sometimes does these small gestures or expressions that just scream he's a bitchy gay and it's so fun and at odds of what we usually see of gay men on TV because the man is built and very masculine and usually we only get twinks being the fun bitchy gays not the guy who is ex military and flies helicopters into hurricanes and plays pick up basketball with his buddies.

Sorry it seems your ask box has become my sounding board for my wayward 911 thought.

don't be sorry, I enjoy discussing this show. that being said, I'm gonna be as nice in my disagreements as possible right now.

This is going to get very long, and the first part of this is going to be entirely character meta/analysis, I'm ignoring every outside influence (writers/directors/etc) for the Eddie portion. The more technical side of things will come back into play when I get into your comments about Tommy. I'm going to try and touch on all of the things you mentioned in your ask, so buckle in. I'm gonna put this under a cut because it is obscenely long.

Eddie's PTSD is an undercurrent leading almost all of his character decisions.

He didn't have a visceral reaction to the grenade in the moment, because he was under pressure. He had to stay calm in that moment, triggers be damned. He had no other option. If he had panicked, if he had reacted negatively in any way, it would've made the entire situation - in which he had not one but two people relying on his expertise - so much worse. We don't know how he reacted after the fact, when he was alone, because we don't see it. It's also very possible that grenades simply don't trigger him.

The helicopter, as well. It's very possible that it's not a trigger for him, OR that he's already compartmentalised that particular trauma. It could be context dependent - Taylor Kelly's helicopter went down, yes, however, Eddie wasn't involved in the crash, only the rescue, so he might have been able to separate that from his personal trauma. Same as the grenade; he had civilians (non-military) relying on him to remain calm, to use his expertise effectively. Compartmentalisation is an incredibly important skill, and Eddie seems - at least at first - to have a very good grasp of it.

However, there are only so many traumas a person can take before the cracks begin to show.

There was, actually, a lot of lead-up to Eddie joining that fight club. Shannon, and all the baggage she represented. The insecurity of his relationship with her, the resentment he still held for her leaving, the hope of reconciliation, the pain of having that hope crushed three-fold: first, she wasn't pregnant, second, she wanted a divorce, third, she died in front of him. That is a LOT to handle in a VERY short amount of time. In canon, all of those events take place in under 24 hours. It's hit after hit after hit. This is where his decline starts.

Then, his best friend is crushed by a ladder truck, and Eddie has to watch from the sidelines, unable to help. That would have been a triggering event for him, too, calling back to his last ride with the Army. Buck was pinned, in the "line of fire" as it were, and Eddie was unable to help. There was nothing he could do until the bomber was contained and the threat eliminated. Again, we don't know how he reacted to it once he was alone, because we didn't get to see that, but we can imagine how traumatic that must have been.

Then, the tsunami. Even though he was unaware of Chris and Buck's involvement for most of the day, he still had to spend hours performing search and rescue. He likely came across dozens of corpses over the course of that day, which - no matter how well-adjusted you are - would leave an emotional bruise. And then, of course, at the end of that exhausting, emotionally draining day, Eddie finds Buck. And he finds out that both Buck and Chris were on the pier when the tsunami hit. And he realises that Chris isn't with Buck now. There is a moment there, where Eddie truly believes that his son is dead. Words cannot express clearly enough just how much agony Eddie would have experienced in that moment, especially so soon after Shannon's death. And then the emotional whiplash of having Chris turn up, alive... honestly it's a miracle that Eddie didn't fully break down right then and there.

But you see, all of this trauma compounded on top of each other. Shannon, Buck, Chris, every single hit that Eddie has taken since joining the 118, all of it has built on top of each other, and he's never taken the necessary steps to counter it. He knows he has PTSD, but he doesn't go to therapy for it. So all of this has been building up on him for over a year, without an outlet or healthy coping mechanisms in place to help carry that burden.

That was the build up. The guy in the parking lot was just the first piece of the dam breaking free.

Then Lena introduced him to her hobby: street fighting. She used it to blow off steam, to have fun. She had no way of knowing just how close to breaking Eddie really was, so she wasn't expecting him to latch onto it the way he did. But Eddie took what could have been a healthy hobby - if paired with extensive therapy - and turned it into a necessity. More cracks in the dam, to continue the metaphor; more leaks springing free, with no way to plug it back up. Then the money came into play, and Eddie got hooked. He could fight, and get paid well for it? He could use this to provide for his son? Sold. Another crack.

Until he nearly killed a man during a match, and he had to step back and realise, finally, that the dam was breaking and he was in the tidal path.

But even then, he had to be mandated by his employer to seek help. Because Eddie had been raised with the mentality that men did not need therapy, that therapy was 'admitting weakness' - he was raised steeped in toxic masculinity, and that has shaped every single decision he has made regarding his own life. His stint in therapy is short-lived - only so long as the mandated sessions continue - and then he leaves and never looks back. The dam is patched, he claims, even if it's just with duct tape and chewing gum.

Eddie doesn't effectively deal with his trauma, and so it continues to build up. He's just gotten better at ignoring it, shoving it aside, focusing on the better parts of his life - in this case, his son, his job, his best friend, and his new girlfriend, Ana.

Then the pandemic happens. Even more trauma to add to the list. He has an immunocompromised son, so he can't even be inside his own house for a good few months; he stays with Buck instead, until it's safe for him to return home. His son is struggling with the isolation of the pandemic, not being able or allowed to see his friends, or his caregivers, or his own family, because of the risk factor. Eddie, losing himself in the 'better' parts of life, decides to be spontaneous and Bold, and tries to introduce another person into Chris's life without taking his son's own trauma and insecurities into account.

He's operating on the stance that, well, any day could be his last. He could lose Chris in a freak accident, or he could die on the job, or he could screw up so badly that his parents come and take Chris from him. So he throws caution - and good sense - to the wind. This is common for people like Eddie. He's survived terrible traumas, he's finally happy, and so that happiness must be shared, because it could all disappear in the blink of an eye if he doesn't grab it with both hands.

And he very nearly does lose it all when the well collapses on him.

Eddie is happier, but he's no less traumatised. He still hasn't addressed his past, his grief, his fears, and those are all still building in the background. But he's determined not to care about them.

Which is why the shooting is so jarring.

He was helping, he was doing his job, he was saving someone, and he got shot on home soil. This is another major triggering event, far more similar to his last ride with the Army than anything else he's faced so far. Those "patched" cracks start leaking again.

Again, much of the recovery is glossed over, but that doesn't mean that the trauma isn't still affecting him. As mentioned above, he's gotten very good at ignoring his own trauma.

This is compounded, again, when he and Buck are taken hostage. And again, when he finally talks to Chris. His own son saying that he doesn't want him to die is another crack. Eddie quitting his job is another crack. Eddie losing his sense of self in Dispatch is another crack.

Eddie learning the fates of his former Army teammates is the TNT that brings the dam down completely.

Eddie has been carrying years of guilt and grief and pain and trauma, compounded endlessly and ever-growing behind his nice little wall of denial, but now he has no choice but to face it. Drown in it.

He breaks, properly, for the first time. His PTSD is unmanaged and unmanageable, his trauma is far heavier than he expected it to be, and he's been so busy pretending that he's fine, that he hasn't noticed the detonator in his hands the entire time.

He finally, finally, realises that he needs to seek help on his own terms. He can't be mandated into it, he can't be dragged, he has to take that step on his own, and it's one of the hardest things he's ever had to do, but he does it anyway. Because he knows he can't keep carrying all of that weight forever alone. He needs help, so he finally goes to seek it out.

All of this is an extremely long winded way of saying: the show does, has done, and continues to carry Eddie's PTSD, even if it's not explicitly mentioned on screen all of the time. It doesn't need to be. It's an omnipresent shadow looming over him at all times. Sometimes it's lighter, sometimes it isn't, but it's always there.

Which actually, helpfully, leads me to my next point: Tommy.

An on-screen apology is entirely unnecessary. It's been made clear already through character interactions (as far back as season two) that Tommy has mended his fences with both Hen and Chimney. If you want to see something like that depicted on screen, you'll have to rely on fanfic, because this is not that kind of show. We don't need to be shown every time a relationship is changed or repaired. We're also never shown Chimney apologising to Buck for punching him, does that mean that their relationship wasn't repaired? No, obviously not, they're in a good place now, and it's clear that what happened between them is water under the bridge. The exact same can be said here.

Tommy also wasn't nearly as bad as the fandom makes him seem. He makes two offhanded, poorly thought-out comments in both Hen Begins and Chimney Begins, but by the time Bobby Begins Again happens, he's already on friendly terms with them both. They go out drinking together, they make bets together, Hen and Chim organised a going-away party for him when he transferred stations. It's very clearly presented to us that Tommy has changed his behaviour in the time between Hen Begins and Bobby Begins Again. So why do we need to see him apologise? Through context clues and on-screen interactions, we can see that they're on good terms. Is that not enough? Would Hen or Chimney willingly remain friendly with someone who still exhibits bigoted behaviours? Should we not at the very least, trust these two incredibly intuitive characters to be able to make a judgement call regarding Tommy?

I'm not saying any of this to be rude to you, nonnie, but I do want you to consider carefully why you think it matters more to see Tommy apologise - and what level of apology you would "accept" - rather than to believe what the characters have shown us, which is that Tommy changed, made amends, and is on good terms with almost all of the original 118. Hen likes him, Chimney likes him (enough to keep his number even a decade after Tommy left the 118, by the way), Bobby likes him. Eddie and Tommy click almost immediately when they met. So, with all of that to be considered - and knowing Tommy's own recounting of that time, where he openly admits that he was a worse person under Gerrard as the 118's captain - what do you genuinely expect an on-screen apology to provide?

If you do want to come off anon, I do have my DMs open. If you'd rather continue like this, that's fine by me as well. I only ask that you consider everything I've said here. I'm sorry this got SO long, but Eddie's trauma is a very long topic, and I only covered seasons 2-5.

(This response has taken me an hour to write, so please, please, consider it carefully. I've been as neutral as possible despite my opinions on Eddie and Tommy, respectively, and there's a lot to cover in all of that. Sorry this got so absurdly long, but I'm looking forward to continuing this conversation, in any format you choose.)

[aossimusings]

Claire from the Bear, and why she's not badly written, she's just not occupying the character role people expect of her and they don't know what to do with that

Alright. I'm bringing some film student analysis to The Bear, and subsequently, Claire, because I'm tired of people saying crazy things like, "she's a manic pixie dream girl" or that her character is underdeveloped or badly written or that she's pure male fantasy or any other crazy, extremist reaction to her character, when really, I think she's occupying a different character role than we're used to seeing from characters like hers, and in typical The Bear fashion, we as an audience are not being told how to interpret her character with words, but with visual and narrative structure.

Be warned, this is a very, very long post.

Lets take a minute to understand narrative structure in film:

There's an A plot and a B plot. The A plot is what is referred to as "the promise of the premise." It's why you come to watch what you watch. The B plot is all the emotional character development/growth that undergirds the A plot and makes it emotional and impactful. So in the Bear, The A plot is the whole thread of, let's fix the Beef -> let's make a new restaurant -> let's get a star, etc etc, that evolves with each season. The B plot is mostly centered on Carmy (although other characters also have their own smaller B-plots) and on him healing from his grief and family and kitchen trauma and finding himself as a person, etc etc.

Claire as a character is a B-plot character. Her role as a character is to be a part of Carmy's emotional B-plot development, whereas the rest of the characters in the show occupy roles in both the A plot and the B plot. In a show centered

The thing that I think is causing a lot of the discourse around her character is the fact that she's not occupying a typical character role for her sort of character, and then people don't know what to do with her. They're either trying to slot her into a a bad female character role (like a manic pixie dream girl) and are then angry that that type of character would be included in the show, or they think she's a badly written attempt at a more developed character and are then angry because they think her character was fumbled, when in fact, she's neither.

Let's take a minute to examine these two roles:

The Manic Pixie Dream Girl

A manic pixie dream girl as defined by the Oxford language dictionary is:

"(especially in film) a type of female character depicted as vivacious and appealingly quirky, whose main purpose within the narrative is to inspire a greater appreciation for life in a male protagonist."

On paper, I can see why people would say that she's a MPDG. She's a little quirky, and she appears to "inspire a greater appreciation for life" in Carmy. She's a doctor, but she's a bad driver, she loves Mondays, she shoplifted in high school for the adrenaline rush, etc, etc. But I would argue that she's not actually a MPDG because her role in the narrative is fundamentally different than that of a MPDG.

In terms of narrative, MPDGs are a catalyst. They are crucial to the movement of the plot and the development of the main character. Specifically, they're supposed to be a catalyst for main male character growth. This is part of why MPDGs are a sort of problematic character -- the idea that they don't get dimension as a character, yet their entire role is to catalyze the main male character's positive growth and evolution is sexist. They aid the MMC at the cost of their personhood.

However, notably, Claire doesn't actually inspire positive growth in Carmy. He is not made better for knowing her. He doesn't grow as a person, learn from his mistakes. He isn't calmer or nicer in the kitchen, he doesn't resolve any of his trauma, I would argue that he doesn't even have a "greater appreciation for life" as is critical to the relationship between the MMC and the MPDG; he is just as depressed and anxious for knowing her as he was when he didn't know her.

So Claire: not a manic pixie dream girl, despite being quirky and trying to "inspire a greater appreciation for life."

The Badly Written Main Female Character

I think for a lot of viewers, if Claire isn't a MPDG to them, she's viewed as a badly written, badly developed main female character, who isn't afforded a lot of screen time, and as such, is one dimensional because she doesn't get much character development.

Wait, what? She's a badly written main character without a lot of screen time to develop? But part of being a main character is to have significant screen time to develop! But Claire doesn't have a lot of screen time... Tina has more screen time. Sugar has more screen time. Marcus has more screen time. It's almost like...Claire isn't a main character, even though, as a love interest, she occupies a role typically only allowed to main characters.

So then...what is she? To understand her narrative role, we need to take a minute to understand what Carmy's B-plot has established thus far. My apologies for the following, very drawn out explanation of Carmy's mental health. I promise I'll return to Claire, but this is important.

Carmy's B-plot (aka, the emotional stuff)

Seasons 1 through 3 are essentially following Carmy having a slow, drawn out breakdown. Or rather, it's not slow. It's a pretty realistic depiction of someone who is pretty mentally/emotionally unwell continuing to not get the help that he needs, and trying to fix things unsuccessfully on his own. But admitting that he's unwell feels like admitting defeat, so he's trying to fix things while never actually admitting that he needs help, and as such, is in a self-destructive spiral of trying to fix things unsuccessfully, feeling out of control because of it, trying to fix different things unsuccessfully, feeling even more out of control, etc etc.

By S3, we have a better understanding of the Berzatto family structure: an unnamed father who walked out leaving them in debt, Donna who is/was an alcoholic and otherwise emotional black hole, Mikey who died at age 43 (born 1979, died 2022 as seen on his prayer card), Sugar who's 36 a year after his death (born 1988, confirmed by her hospital intake in Ice Chips), and Carmy who is 26 a year after Mikey's death (confirmed by the original script.) So when Carmy was born, Sugar was 10 and Mikey was 18. This is important because in light of Fishes and Ice Chips, Donna was an alcoholic for as long as they were children, was incredibly unpredictable with mood swings, poor emotional regulation and maybe even emotional abuse (see how Carmy and Sugar essentially are trying to regulate their mother's emotions in Fishes), and probably some physical altercations if Donna's behavior in Fishes is anything to go by. Sugar explicitly says that she frightened all of her children. Mikey was probably the de facto parent in a lot of instances, being the only other adult in the household. The fact that he was also an addict, and as seen in Fishes, also violent or unpredictable at times, complicates this. S3E1's scene with Sugar and Carmy at the airport implies that after Mikey started cutting Carmy out (and struggling with addiction) Sugar started to assume that parental role. So that's a whole fucked up childhood right there, with very little room to healthily develop emotions or coping mechanisms or an understanding of healthy relationships. In ice-chips, Sugar demonstrates that she's aware of this. "I ask people if they're okay way too much," and "I'd make myself sick to make you feel better." Everything with Carmy's character demonstrates that he does not have this self awareness.

Carmy explains in his al-anon monologue that the rhythm of the kitchen became soothing to him, because it was so rigid and so predictable (a direct contrast to his home life.) But while it was soothing, he also cut contact with people in his life, because the self-isolation made things "quiet" (and probably gave him a feeling of control, like most self-destructive impulses do) which led to him being incredibly isolated and incredibly dependent on work as a coping mechanism by the time he ends up working with the abusive NYC chef. Important thing to note about that: now his only coping mechanism has been polluted by abuse as well, and the trauma of that will haunt him increasingly throughout the seasons (coupled with the fact that he's probably never learned how to healthily process his own emotions, in part because he ended up having to set them aside to emotionally regulate his own mother.)

Then Mikey kills himself. (which again, is the fucked-up family figure of brother and parent and addict and idol all rolled into one suddenly dying on you after abruptly cutting your out of their life)

I say all this because I want to make very clear that mentally, Carmy is not well. Across his various al-anon monologues, the fridge conversation, his flashbacks, etc. it becomes really clear that he's never really had any sense of safety or security in his life except for maybe when he was 18-24 when he did the French Laundry, Ever, Noma, and Daniel. The amount of anxiety that he experiences in his day to day life is not normal, it's not healthy. It's exhausting and damaging. He's also probably pretty depressed, and probably had been even before Mikey and NYC chef. He talked about in al-anon that when he was a kid, he could never feel happy or excited about anything because he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop (arguably because of his mother, because if she was upset, she made everyone else upset to deal with it, and if she was happy, he was waiting for her mood to shift.) We very rarely actually see him happy or joyful in any of the seasons. So basically, as evidenced by that and what we see in the seasons, he's got this really damaging spiral of anxiety and depression, where he's so anxious he can't feel happy.

Pursuit of happiness is actually what brings us to Claire as a character. He meets her almost right after he talks in al-anon about the fact that he should "provide amusement and enjoyment" for himself. Then he meets her in a grocery store, and promptly, and deliberately, gives her the wrong phone number. Personally, I read this as Carmy knowing that he's not ready for a relationship. He pursues it anyways, for likely 2 reasons:

Pursuit of happiness. Sugar always wanted him to get away from the Beef in S1, now he's trying to get some space and do something to "provide amusement and enjoyment"

Mikey! In Fishes, Mikey was really excited about the prospect of Carmy dating Claire. At the time, Carmy was like WTF, but in the wake of Mikey's death, this is probably a way of connecting with him. See, I can do it! I can date a girl! I can do this thing that you thought would make me happy. I can be normal. I can be what you wanted.

Now a little film student analysis:

One thing that I love about the Bear is that they're really good at the whole concept of "show don't tell". You'll hear about this a lot in writing advice, but it's actually even more relevant in film. Here's a good example from the bear:

The Bear never, ever says that Carmy has anxiety. I'm not even sure if the word "anxiety" is even said onscreen. Instead, The Bear shows:

Carmy drinking bottles of Pepto Bismal and chewing fistfuls of Tums, yet rarely eating anything

Carmy sleep walking and almost setting his apartment on fire

the sheer amount of nervous energy he has (tapping spoons, sharpies, cigarettes, etc. , never standing still, being generally twitchy)

some really great tricks with filming and lens that make the world around him shift focus, shift perspective, blur, and otherwise visually simulate the effects of an anxiety/panic attack.

In film, you have to be incredibly intentional about what you keep in and out. In my first film class, when we were doing film analysis, a lot of people would start "I'm not sure if this was intentional, but..." and the film teachers immediately shut that down with this statement:

"assume everything is intentional. even if it wasn't, someone still chose to leave it in" meaning that, in film, what you see on screen is actually a fraction of the material that filmmakers had to work with; if something makes it through to the final cut, it was important.

I mentioned before that despite Claire occupying a main character role as a love interest, she does not get main character screen time. Like I said above, I think a lot of people perceive this as her character being done a disservice, that she's badly written, that she's meant to be this perfect male fantasy, etc, etc.

Firstly, I present to you the fact that characters such as Sugar, Sydney, Tina, Donna, all have absolutely beautiful storylines and arcs. They're complex, well-written characters. I don't believe that Claire's lack of screen time is because the show-runners secretly idolize manic pixie dream girls and women of "male fantasy" and thus Claire is supposed to be this perfect person who doesn't need any screen time to be developed (which feels like a thread I've seen a lot.). I really don't think the show runners are secret misogynists. Sorry.

What I do believe is that Claire as a character is not meant to be central to the story. The show very intentionally spends more time developing Carmy's relationships with Sydney, Tina, Sugar, Richie than it does with Claire. Why? A host of reasons.

1. Because Claire is a new form of escapism for him, not that the kitchen is no longer is sanctuary.

I talked before about how after the NYC chef, and I would argue, now that he's trying to start his own restaurant, his one safe space of the kitchen has become polluted with the same chaos and/or abuse from the rest of his life which he spent years running away from. But because he's so isolated, he has no where else to go. So he creates somewhere to go, by creating a relationship with Claire. That relationship is his new form of escapism.

The show communicates that to us in one very specific way: 90% of the time, if Carmy is with Claire, we don't see him. This is not 100% true 100% of the time, but there was a clear pattern that developed in S2 that time spent with Claire is time spent off screen. I think a lot of people see this as "not developing Claire's character" and not giving her screen time, when in fact it's more so about Carmy's absence.

When he ditches Sydney to move boxes with Claire, we never see that scene. We just assume that he was doing it.

When Sydney is trying to figure shit out in the restaurant by herself, it's implied that Carmy is with Claire, but we don't cut to them.

When Carmy talks to Sydney about all the menu things he talked about with Claire, we never see those scenes.

Why? Because he is escaping The Bear by being with her. It would be a very different narrative if we actually did see these scenes, because it would demonstrate that they have an emotional weight and importance in the show. Instead, they're defined by their absence.

Carmy and Claire's relationship is defined by its absence in the show.

2. Claire is not the right type of partner for Carmy, and we're not supposed to believe that she is.

I think it's interesting to look at Carmy's relationship with Claire through Sugar's relationship with Pete. I was talking with some people and they observed that in a lot of ways, it makes sense that Sugar would be with Pete because he is completely non-threatening. In many ways, he's the opposite to most of the men in the Berzatto family (note: I'm not saying Berzatto men are threatening.) But Berzatto men are loud, and opinionated. Some of them engage in behaviors such as: screaming in their kitchen, and throwing spoons and sharpies; throwing forks like darts at their relatives and also shouting; telling their nephews that there nothing and worthless and will never be anything; walking out on their families and leaving them in debt; lording their financial success over various family members. You also have Donna as a parental figure who also throws things violently, yells and screams, is an emotional black hole, and has aggressively grabbed Sugar at least once. Pete is about as far away from all of this as you can be.

I think that Claire is Carmy's Pete in a lot of ways. She's quiet, and calm, she's non-threatening, etc. She's not emotionally manipulative, she doesn't ask much of him (so when she does ask things of him, it's a welcome escape), she is a doctor, which is meant to help people. However, and part of why I don't think their relationship would work in the long run, is that Carmy doesn't need a Pete. Sugar has an emotional intelligence that Carmy doesn't, for one thing. For another, as alluded to by Ice Chips with Sugar listening to the podcast about Adult Children of Alcoholics, each of them were affected differently by their traumatic childhood. And quite frankly, I think that Carmy needs someone who can be gentle and empathic and quiet with him, but also someone who won't take his shit and can stand up to him. (because unlike Sugar, who tends to internalize everything, Carmy has a tendency to externalize everything.) He tends to take it out on the people around him, and I think he needs someone who can simultaneously shut that down and hear him out. And I don't think Claire is that.

3. The chemistry just isn't there.

I don't want to get into an argument about shipping. I can't predict if Carmy is going to get back with Claire after some emotional development, or if he's meant to be with Sydney, or whatever. Personally, I think that any discussion of a relationship is premature (and I think that Carmy knew that subconsciously when he gave Claire a wrong number and was very hesitant on the phone when she called him the first time.)

What I have observed is this: the few scenes that we do see of Carmy and Claire feel a lot less emotionally charged than other scenes in the show. Forgetting romantic relationships, there is so much more emotion and connection in the following scene than in the scenes we see with Carmy and Claire:

Richie and Carmy's conversation about purpose in S2.

Carmy and Sydney's conversation under the table in S2.

Carmy and Mikey's conversation in the pantry in Fishes.

The snippet in the fridge when Carmy's talking to Tina.

The scene with Claire that really sticks out to me having emotional weight is the scene in S3 where they talk about the days of the week, Carmy's hand scar, and Claire accidentally almost killing that girl in the ER. It hurt so much you couldn't feel it. Firstly, it's telling that that scene happened in flashback, not during their relationship, and secondly, the main thesis of that scene was more of a commentary on trauma than it was about their chemistry (ie, Carmy is so traumatized atm, he doesn't realize that he is because of how much it hurts.)

This demonstrates to me that a) the show writers can write emotionally powerful scenes, and scenes with chemistry, and b) the lack thereof in scenes with Claire was an intentional choice because it demonstrates that other relationships are more important for Carmy's character than the one with Claire.

For all that Carmy said that he loved Claire, we never see any evidence of it. It's told, not shown. Whereas his affection for other people in his life isn't mentioned, but it is shown: "I have time for this" and sitting down to talk to Richie about purpose. Buying Sydney a monogrammed chef's coat because she liked his.

His relationship with Claire is important for what it helps demonstrate: his desire for escapism, his self-destruction, his emotional immaturity, the fact that he has other very important relationships and that he needs to deepen those bonds, the fact that he needs to get his priorities in order. It's not so much about Claire. And maybe that will read as sexist to some, because it's more about him than it is about her, but I don't think she's really meant to be a main character either.

[rishiimaa]

Heey everyone!! Apologies about the late responses, usually when I get home from classes I’m always tired and worn out, so I never usually use my free time to write, it’s always sleeping :(

“What if JJK men gave their kid a new sibling?”

Yuji, Megumi

(Implied fem!reader)

(angst if you squint)

Fluffy, crack

————————————

Yuji Itadori

You groggily rubbed your eyes, feeling the familiar weight of the early morning as you shuffled down the hallway. It was too quiet, which meant only one thing—C/N was still asleep. You glanced at the clock and panicked. School started in less than an hour!

You hurried to C/N’s room, fully prepared to yank the covers off and start the usual morning routine when a sudden wave of nausea hit you. You barely had time to react before you were dashing to the bathroom, hurling over the toilet.

“Ugh, not again,” you muttered, wiping your mouth and standing up. You didn’t think much of it at first, chalking it up to a weird bug or maybe something you ate. But after days of this, the nagging thought in the back of your mind grew stronger: could you be pregnant?

Yuji didn’t seem too concerned, even when you mentioned the possibility. He shrugged it off with his usual bright smile, saying, “I’m sure it’s nothing! Probably just stress.”

But you weren’t so sure. Finally, you decided to put your suspicions to the test. Literally.

The result? Positive.

You stared at the little plus sign, a mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling up inside you. You couldn’t wait to tell Yuji. When you did, his eyes went wide with surprise before he broke into a huge grin. “Another little one, huh? C/N’s gonna be thrilled!”

Well, that was the plan. But how do you tell a kid that they’re about to have a sibling? And how do you keep Yuji from turning it into a complete disaster?

After school, C/N bounded through the door, full of energy as usual. Yuji pulled him aside with a serious expression, which instantly caught C/N’s attention.

“C/N, there’s something important we need to talk about,” Yuji began, trying his best to look wise and fatherly. You had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well.

C/N’s eyes widened. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, no, nothing like that!” Yuji quickly reassured him. “It’s just that, uh, well… do you know where babies come from?”

Your heart dropped. Oh no, here we go.

C/N tilted his head, clearly confused. “Um… storks?”

Yuji blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Uh, not exactly. You see, when two people… um, really love each other…” He started to fumble over his words, throwing in a few random terms he vaguely remembered from health class, completely losing C/N in the process.

You could see the poor kid’s eyes glazing over as Yuji continued his awkward explanation. Finally, you stepped in, placing a gentle hand on Yuji’s shoulder. “What your dad’s trying to say is… you’re going to be a big brother.”

C/N’s face lit up with excitement. “Really? I’m gonna have a little brother or sister?”

You nodded, relieved that the message had finally gotten through. “Yup! You’re going to have someone new to play with and take care of.”

At first, C/N looked a bit skeptical, as if trying to figure out if this was some kind of joke. But then, a big smile spread across his face, and he started bouncing on his toes. “That’s so cool! I’m gonna teach them everything I know! We’re gonna have so much fun!”

All the tension and nerves melted away as you and Yuji exchanged relieved smiles. C/N didn’t mind another sibling—in fact, he was thrilled at the idea.

Yuji wrapped his arms around you and C/N, pulling you both into a big hug. “Guess we’re gonna be even busier now, huh?”

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Yeah, but in the best way possible.”

With C/N still buzzing with excitement and Yuji grinning like an idiot, you knew that everything was going to be just fine.

————————————

Megumi Fushiguro

The day starts like any other, with you, Megumi, and your daughter, C/N, heading out for some school shopping. It’s a perfect family outing, and you’re excited to spend the day together. C/N holds your hand tightly as you browse through the aisles, her little eyes lighting up at every colorful display.

As you’re helping her pick out some new clothes, your gaze drifts over to the baby section. The tiny onesies, the soft blankets—something stirs inside you. It’s an old, familiar feeling, one you haven’t entertained in a while. You miss having a newborn in your arms, that sweet, quiet time when everything was new and magical. But you’ve always agreed that one child was enough. Still, the thought lingers.

“Mama, look! Can I get this?” C/N’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. She’s holding up a toy with wide, hopeful eyes. Without thinking, you nod and smile, giving in to her request. “Of course, sweetheart.”

You and C/N find Megumi, who’s patiently waiting in another section of the store. The three of you continue browsing through the mall, enjoying each other’s company. But as you walk, a strange sensation washes over you. Your vision blurs, and you suddenly feel dizzy, like the world is tilting sideways.

Megumi notices immediately. “Are you okay?” he asks, concern breaking through his usual calm demeanor.

Before you can respond, the world goes dark. You faint, but not before you feel Megumi’s arms catch you, keeping you from hitting the floor. The last thing you hear is C/N’s terrified scream.

When you wake up, you’re in a hospital bed, the room bright and sterile. Your head feels heavy, and for a moment, you struggle to remember where you are. That’s when you hear a familiar voice. Megumi is talking quietly to a doctor, and there’s something in his tone that worries you.

You turn your head to see him, his expression unreadable, but there’s a hint of shock in his eyes. The doctor says something you can’t quite make out, and then Megumi turns to see you’re awake. Instantly, he’s at your side, his usual composure breaking as he hurries over.

“What’s going on?” you ask, your voice shaky. “Where’s C/N?”

“She’s with Yuji,” Megumi reassures you, his hand gently squeezing yours. You sigh in relief, but there’s still a nagging worry at the back of your mind. You try to sit up, but the room spins, and you’re forced to lie back down. Megumi helps you, his hand steadying you.

“You fainted in the mall,” he explains, his voice soft. “I caught you before you hit the ground. But…” He hesitates, his eyes searching yours. “The doctor thinks you might be pregnant. They took some tests while you were unconscious, and we’re waiting for the results.”

Your eyes widen in shock, the words sinking in slowly. Pregnant? You remember standing in the mall, staring at those baby clothes, thinking how much you missed having a newborn. And now this?

Megumi rests his head gently on your stomach, his voice laced with regret. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I should’ve noticed something was off.”

But instead of feeling worried, you suddenly start to laugh, tears of happiness spilling down your cheeks. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. “Don’t be sorry, Megumi. I’ve… I’ve been wanting another baby.”

He pulls back, startled, his dark eyes searching your face for any sign that you’re joking. But when he sees the sincerity in your expression, he hugs you tighter, burying his face in your neck.

After a moment, he pulls back slightly, his serious expression replaced with a hint of nervousness. “Oh, how are we gonna explain this to C/N?”

shit.”

A few hours later, the doctor hands you the results. You and Megumi stare at the paper, your hearts pounding in sync. It’s positive. You look up at each other, and without another word, you’re in each other’s arms, Megumi pressing small kisses to your temple, your cheeks, anywhere he can reach.

When you tell everyone the news, Yuji brings C/N home. She runs to you, her little face full of worry. “Mommy, are you okay?”

You smile and reassure her, “Yes, sweetheart, I’m fine.” Megumi scoops her up in his arms, holding her close.

“How would you like to be a big sister?” he asks, his tone light and teasing.

C/N’s reaction is immediate. “No!” she exclaims, causing your heart to drop.

“What do you mean no?” Megumi asks, clearly surprised.

“If I become a big sister, then I’ll have to deal with a baby who acts like Papa! And a kid like Papa is bad!” she declares, crossing her arms in a way that’s all too familiar.

Megumi looks genuinely offended. “Hey…what’s that supposed to mean?”

Before their bickering can escalate, you interrupt with a kiss on C/N’s cheek, your heart full as you reassure her, “Don’t worry, sweetie. The baby won’t be like Papa. You already act like him enough for both of you.”

C/N pouts for a moment but eventually melts into your kiss, nodding as she finally agrees to be a big sister. Relief washes over you, but you notice that Megumi is still a bit peeved at what C/N said before.

He leans in closer, narrowing his eyes at C/N.

“Hey…How about you repeat what you said.”

————————————

HI!! SINCE EVERYONE REQUESTED IT TO BE POSTED I’LL POST IT 😭 IF YOU WANT A CERTAIN GUY THEN PLEASE REQUEST IT :3

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 7

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

Masterlist here

-🐺-

When you opened your eyes the world was drowned in darkness and you were in an unfamiliar room, sapping warmth from an oversized lump in the sheets. At first you froze like a statue, flicking your eyes around to see if you could make anything out. It was clear enough that you weren’t in your own bed, but even your advanced eyes couldn’t make a single thing out for the lack of any light. 

The lump groaned and shifted, sprawling out like a tiger skin rug before retracting again. A heavy weight draped itself round your mid section, an arm you realised, that caused you to curse and pant for inside it’s unyielding hold. Ghost. Who else had arms the size of iron girders? 

It should’ve been obvious to you, but your mind had been too foggy in the aftermath of your unexpected sleep. Had you taken a second to scent the air, you would’ve been greeted with his relaxing scent, but instead you’d fumbled around like a bear coming out of hibernation. At that realisation you scrunched your eyes closed and then opened them again, still feebly trying to see through the oppressive black of the room. It had to be Ghost’s room that you were in, the place was practically painted with his citrusy scent, with undertones of sage ever present and invading.

“Y’alright, Pup?” a groggy voice called out. 

It sounded as if a pile of rocks had shifted from right next to you. Your ears twitched back at the sound and all at once you relaxed in his loosened grip, turning around to face him. Your noses were inches from touching. Not that you could see his, but you could feel the steady streams of his breaths trickling out from his sleepwear body.

“Um…yeah” you whispered, unsure of how to answer. “Why’d you take me to your bed?” 

He yawned and uncurled his arm from your body, instead using his hand to trace little patterns up your arms. 

“You seemed upset when I left you in yours. Only calmed down and stopped whinin’ when I let you curl up here,” he explained, sounding as if he was moments from drifting off again. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said hastily. 

You couldn’t believe it! Why would you have whined at being left to sleep alone? Why would you stop when you got to sleep in Ghost’s bed? The revelations had you frowning and feeling markedly warmer than you already were. Your mind whirred at the idea that Ghost had witnessed you mewling like a little puppy at having to sleep in your own bed. 

“I know. I didn’t want you having bad dreams after what happened yesterday, so I thought it was for the best,” he said simply, as if what he’d done was completely normal. 

“I can handle those,” you said weakly. 

“You don’t have to.”

You gulped down a thick lump in your throat and let the silence settle over you both. Though the room wasn’t completely quiet of course. Ghost’s steady breathing and the sound of your own pounding heart rattled around in your ears. Though your chest calmed its frenzy when Ghost drew you close again, urging you to burrow your head under his chin and into the soft cotton of his worn shirt. 

The two of you stayed silent for a time after though neither of you fell asleep. Instead the time was spent mulling through your sluggish thoughts, wondering distantly if you should be trying to leave. 

“I think you should reconsider your nesting situation,” Ghost said suddenly, breaking the silence. 

“What?”

“You have a lot of bad dreams most nights. You were peaceful last night though,” he explained softly.

“Do they wake you up?” you asked, brows knitting together in worry. 

You’d woken plenty of times before in your old barracks from others' bad dreams and in turn woken the others with your own. It wasn’t lost on you how annoying it was to try to get to sleep after being jolted awake and kicked into an adrenaline rush, lying there in the grey light of almost dawn with a pounding heart and the knowledge that you’d have to get to work again soon. 

“Nah, told you before - I’m not a good sleeper. If I knew there was something that helped though I’d make sure I got to sleep properly every night.”

You huffed out an embarrassed laugh and shook your head, feeling his stubbly chin scratch the top of your head. It was only then that it occurred to you that he was maskless again. You wondered if that meant he was getting more comfortable around you, just as you were him.

“It was probably just a fluke,” you murmured, trying to hide your interest. “I’m not gonna hoard your clothes like some feral squirrel, Ghost.” 

He laughed at that, the bassy tones reverberating through his wide chest and against your warming skin. 

“It’s not hoarding and it doesn’t have to be my clothes. I can give you my duvet or I could get you a new blanket and sleep with it for a bit if you like, if that would make it feel more natural.”

“It’s not natural, its weird,” you huffed. 

“You’re a hybrid, S’not weird,” he affirmed, stroking circled down your back. “It’s normal for you to need comforting scents and materials. My old partner used to keep a nest, we had an arrangement and it was fine.”

At that your ears flicked in curiosity. He’d never mentioned this ‘old partner’ before. All at once your mind flooded with questions and as it worked hard to process them all, you could barely hold onto one tightly enough to ask it. 

“You had a hybrid before me?” you eventually said, voice small and unsteady. 

Ghost paused. It was if he’d only just realised what he’d just said. 

“Another wolf,” he confirmed, throat swelling and tense. “We were paired up after I passed my handler qualification. It was a long time ago - feels like a lifetime really. Spent four years together, he used to cuddle up with me just like this in my stupid little barracks bunk when he had rough nights.”

The elephant in the room stared down at you from on high. There was no avoiding it’s almost tangible bulk. So you asked the question that wanted to leap off the tip of your tongue. 

“What happened to him?”

Ghost was ready for that, answering quickly. Though it didn’t sound like it hurt him any less to say it when it was spoken through gritted teeth.  

“Killed in action.”

“Oh…I’m- I’m sorry.”

Was that the right thing to say? When other hybrids you’d worked with had died, there usually weren’t many mourners if any, though that was because you were under the care of Branhaven. You’d only met a few hybrids before that were in the care of handlers and it had been obvious that you’d always been intrinsically different from them, that they had far more value to their teams than you ever did as an unclaimed hybrid.

“Roach was a good lad,” Ghost said eventually. “He taught me alot in our time together, made me sharper with all his…’quirks’. Used to steal anything of mine that he could get his grubby little mitts on and drag it off to his bed, so to be honest it was a bit of a shock when I realised you weren’t going to be the same.”

Ghost laughed a little despite the sadness that tinged his careful words. 

“With a name like Roach, I can only imagine what other quirks he had,” you smiled. 

“Oh that one loved to get himself into trouble. I still remember the first time we went out with Price - very long time ago. Roach thought it’d be funny to steal his hat, this is before he started wearing the boonie mind you, at that point it was this old beanie that absolutely reeked of cigars. Found that out because while Price was ranting about having cold ears, I was asleep on top of it, before I got woken up by his bitching anyway. I took it out from under me when I woke up, confused as fuck as to why it was there, and then Price saw it and was going on and on about how childish it was to take it, and then I started arguing back and saying I wouldn’t do something so bloody stupid. All the while Roach was giggling to himself in the corner, the little shit.”

“He wasn’t scared of what Price would do?” You asked incredulously, trying to put yourself in the shoes of a hybrid that didn’t know the intimidating Captain half as well as you did. 

“Roach wasn’t scared of a damn thing, beyond whatever shit he used to dream about anyway. It’s the reason he got called Roach in the first place, his real name was Gary. He used to run headfirst into danger and come out fine almost every time, that’s what they told me when they handed him off to me- ‘that wolf’s like a bug you can’t squash’...Course his luck ran out eventually. We got captured by an enemy group in Mexico and the bastards didn’t see the worth in keeping a hybrid around. Said they only needed me.”

“That’s awful.”

Another silence ensued. It made sense that Ghost had had a hybrid before you, he’d had a long career and he was so knowledgeable when it came to training with you that it made sense that he’d had plenty of first hand experience. Though it made your heart ache to think that he mourned for someone that was ripped away from him so long ago. The way he told those stories, you could hear the emotion etched in every word.

“Didn’t think I’d take on another hybrid on after him,” Ghost sighed, making you tilt your head in question, “but Price told me about you and kept badgering on about me being the only one in the team that was qualified to take you, kept saying that you didn’t deserve to rot away back at your home base and that you deserved a place here. I figured I owed it to him to at least go and check you out and well, I knew you had to be mine the minute I saw ya.”

“You saw a soggy mutt that was getting punished in an outdoor kennel and instantly had that epiphany?” You snorted. 

“A soggy mutt that didn’t deserve to be there,” he corrected. “There was no way for me to have saved Roach while I was tied up and concussed to all hell, I made peace with that a long time ago. I knew that I was able to save you though; doing anything other than untying you and walking out of that base with the angry ball of fur in my arms felt like sacrilege.”

“Angry ball of fur,” you repeated with a tut, rolling your eyes so far back they crept into your inflection.

“You tried to bite me at least twice and you called me Mr.Bonejangles in the car. Angry ball of fur was about right, you little sod! Sitting there all wrapped up in your towel with your grumpy face and hair poking out every which way,” Ghost laughed. “I’m just lucky you calmed down after a good rest. Thought I was gonna have to take to permanently being in handling gloves after that first night.”

“I didn’t try to bite you that much.”

“You did. You were like a hungry crocodile. You had my life flashing before my eyes that day, was praying I’d get to keep all my fingers and toes.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic!” 

Ghost’s laugh echoed around the room, hitting off of unseen walls somewhere inside the shadows. As much as you hated to think about a time before you knew Ghost, and actively tried to fight him, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you began to see that day through his eyes. You could only imagine what it must’ve been like to have met you then, knowing about your sketchy disciplinary file and admittedly bad track record for biting and scratching, Ghost couldn’t have had any clue what he was in for. In that moment you couldn’t have felt luckier, pressed into Ghost’s chest and getting to relax against him in his nice warm bed, when you could’ve been left to rot in those kennels.

Moments later, just as you were both settling back into the furrow of the mattress and had adjusted sheets to your liking, a high pitched alarm tone blared out and sent you both groaning. Ghost’s phone lit up from his side, finally shedding a little light into the room. From there you could see his bed was pressed up into the wall, as usual you’d assumed you’d made sure to be closest to the exit - even in your drowsy state. You still couldn’t make out much of the structure of the place. 

“Suppose we better get up then,” Ghost groaned. “C’mon then.”

“I can’t see a thing in here, you’re gonna have to turn a light on or something,” you yawned, stretching out and readying yourself to start the day.  

It was then that he saw fit to snatch the corner of his black out curtains and yank them back, sending you flying under the covers just to save your eyes. The duvet provided you shelter from the cold blue light and from under their safety you actively felt your pupils slowly unshrink from the tiny pinpoints they’d been forced to become. 

“Why would you do that?” You groaned. 

“Reckoned you needed a bit of a wake up,” Ghost shrugged, lifting the cover up so he could meet your eyes. 

As annoyed as you were you were distracted from your grumpiness momentarily by his face. His smug smile was in full view, lips slanting to one side and pulling his scars taught. In the full light of the morning he looked like a weathered statue, bright highlights and harsh shadow carving out his sharp jaw like chiselled stone. You tilted your head at him and in turn he tilted his back in the opposite direction. 

“See somethin’ on my face?” He joked, teeth flashing into view. 

You shook your head and pursed your lips. A little heat rose to your cheeks. 

“Just planning out the perfect place to bite you,” you lied.

“That so?” He asked, a sandy blonde eyebrow raising. “Sounds like I’m just gonna have to get you first then.”

At that he pinched your side and sent you yipping and scrabbling off the bed. Though that wasn’t enough to escape him. He gave chase, leaping off of the mattress, the bed groaning at the change in weight and thumped on the floor. The air blew through the fur in your ears, you ran that fast. Unthinkingly running to your own room before considering anywhere else. 

With that you dove under your bed, dragging your sheets down to cover the space and yanking Simon in just as he’d fallen off the top. Ghost yanked your door open straight after, his bare feet slapping into the wood and taking careful steps forward. He sighed loudly when he reached the edge of your bed and stopped, feet stopping at your chest. 

“I’d like to think you’ve been trained to evade enemies better than this, Pup,” he drawled. 

You rolled your eyes, full well knowing you wouldn’t go running and hiding like that against someone you had full authority to kill. 

Rather than let him crouch down and drag you out, you threw Simon up at him as a distraction and skittered out around him. In a matter of seconds you managed to gather yourself into a crouch and sprang up at his back, wrapping your arms round his shoulders and legs round his middle. From there you gently grazed your teeth against his neck in a fake bite and growled, announcing your victory to the otherwise empty room. 

“Soap’s right, you’re a menace,” he laughed, untangling you from around him and bending backwards so he could set you gently back down on the floor. 

“You brought work into it,” you huffed, folding your arms indignantly.

“Yeah yeah, cheap shot throwing your teammate at the hostile. Poor little fella getting sacrificed like that,” he said, holding out the puppy stuffed toy with a fake grimace. 

“Simon woulda shaken it off, I had every faith in him,” you shrugged, setting him down on the bed carefully so that he rested against the pillows. 

“Simon?” Ghost repeated, choking out a strangled sound that sounded somewhere between a laugh and a guffaw. “You named it Simon?”

“Yeah, after the hybrid from my books,” you said, nodding toward the graphic novels that were stacked by your bedside. “Why's that so funny?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as a few different emotions crossed Ghost’s eyes. He chewed on his lip a second, eyes going wide and zeroing in on your sleeping buddy until he shook himself out of it. 

“Nothing,” he smiled, clearing the awkward edge in his throat. “Good name that. Strong choice. Little Simon.”

“I think it suits him.”

“Yeah…Anyway, we need to get ready and get in for work. I’ve got a bit of a stacked day today, so we need to get you sorted. Gaz and Soap offered to take you through your exercises this afternoon and Price is gonna let you sit in his office till I can come get you in the evenin’. Pack your books so you’ve got something to occupy yourself with tonight, Cap’s not very chatty right now. Oh and remember, if you want anything for your bed just let me know, ok?” 

-🐺- 

Stacked day indeed. Ghost made you run laps through the assault course he’d had set up for you and just before he left, he’d made you practise some bite work with him. The irony wasn’t lost on you after your conversation that morning. He’d donned his leather gloves and neck protector and brought out a fake gun, making you attack him over and over so that you could practise non lethal takedowns.

As good as you were at the exercise, that didn’t stop Ghost from firing a couple foam bullets at you from time to time when you got too out of control, reminding you teresley that you weren’t supposed to be ripping detainees to pieces. As your wilder side took over during your work, you’d bark out raspy growls at him for the cheap shots, knowing full well he shouldn't be able to fire after you’d just decimated his fake arm. However the sensible part of your mind would echo out that it was far better than getting smacked with the plastic batons that your old trainers would carry to discourage your savagery.

“Well well well, what kinda training do you call this?”

Your head turned just as you’d brought Ghost down to the floor and you ceased your growling, tilting your head when your gaze landed on Soap. Gaz joined him at the side of the field moments later, just coming off of a phone call to see you still on top of Ghost. 

“Oh yeah, we’re just having a bit of fun, Johnny. You know how much I love being mauled” Ghost grunted, tapping your thigh in short order. “You can get up now, Pup. Reckon you got me.”

You looked back down at Ghost and let out an embarrassed huff of air before rolling off him and standing up, dusting your dirty fatigues off. Some of the soft dirt smeared down them, leaving what would surely become a rough crust in its wake.

“Can’t believe you get to play with nerf guns and call it work,” Soap laughed, “That or the fact that you took the time to paint that thing black just so that it’d match your gear.”

“Well you’re welcome to take over if you think its so fun,” Ghost grinned, eyes cresting below his mask.

He unbuckled his thick leather gloves and threw them onto the grass at Soap’s feet, then tore the velcro off of his neck protector with a loud scratchy rip. Soap then looked back at you and visibility stiffened up, considering Ghost’s offer like it might be his death sentence. Gaz shoved him and laughed, going instead to approach Ghost and reach out for his gun. 

“Look at this,” he whistled, turning it over and opening up the ammo compartment. “What is this? A ten round? You even got the grey bullets with the red tips. Very nice hardware, Sir.”

“Well it is the Elite Ranger PD-5 Blaster, Garrick. Fine piece of kit, so it is,” Ghost quipped. “Maybe one day you’ll earn your own one.”

“Well now I know what I’m asking Santa for,” Gaz smirked. “So, we taking over here?”

You looked back at Soap again who was eagerly looking at Ghost to find out the answer to that question. Ghost looked back at him and winked, a gesture you only caught because you knew to look out for their antics now. 

“Nah,” Ghost finally answered, roughly raking his hands over your ears. “We made good progress today, I reckon we set Pup on anyone we need back alive, we’ve got a great chance of bringing at least seventy percent of the enemy still intact now.”

“Hey!” you growled. “I can bring people in just fine.”

“Oh sure, you can bring em’ in - in separate pieces of course - but you’ll get the job done,” he drawled, soon producing strangled notes as if he was choking. “‘Sorry sir, I would’ve given you the information but that damn wolf got my tongue.’”

Ghost laughed the way he always did when he was being cheeky, the rasping cackle crooning from his throat like a bear scratching up a tree. You had half a mind to do some scratching yourself, but instead you snatched the nerf gun from Gaz and shot Ghost in the chest a couple times. All of you silently watched as the foam bullets arced into his torso only to bounce off pathetically into the well trodden grass. 

You knew then that you should’ve aimed for his forehead like he’d done to you. 

“Friendly fire, is it?” Ghost questioned.

“Got you back,” you replied, tilting your chin in the air in defiance. 

He tutted at you and mussed up your hair once again, rubbing his hands over your head with enough force to almost knock you back.

“I’ll remember that next time we train together,” he said menacingly, jabbing your side just as he’d done that morning. 

You yelped and rubbed the tender spot, trying not to give into the laughter of the ticklish spot. 

“For now though, you two have the absolute pleasure of learning hybrid hand signals,” Ghost said, directing his attentions toward Gaz and Soap. “Sad that I have to miss such a fun exercise, but I’m sure you’ll have plenty of giggles without me. I booked out building three and left you a handler’s manual open on the page there. I had some corporals set up a basic simulation for you, so you should be good to go once you get in. Anything you’re confused on, Pup should be able to explain.” 

At that you groaned, shoulders slumping with the anticipation of the boring afternoon ahead. Back at Branhaven when they were training up new batches of handlers, you all had to take turns helping them through their coursework and modules - one of which being the hand signal module. That often meant long boring days being slowly and dramatically led around short courses and wildly gestured at until the new recruits were able to get the motions correct. 

“You couldn’t have just let me do more biting?” you sighed.

Ghost chuckled and picked up the rucksack of things he’d set off to the side.

“What? And terrify this one half to death in the process? I don’t think so,” Ghost said, pinching Soap’s cheek playfully. “You’ll survive one slow afternoon. I’ll even sweeten the deal, you keep the nerf gun and if they get something wrong you have my permission to shoot them.”

Soap rubbed at his cheek with a glare and slapped Ghost’s arm away soon after. His blue eyes were all storms and indignation and his jaw was clenched tight as a vice. Meanwhile you were doing everything you could not to yip with obvious delight, settling instead for a slow tail wag. 

“You don’t get to authorise that,” Soap said, rolling his eyes.

“What rank am I again?”

“That doesn-”

“It does actually. Have a good day, Sergeant,” Ghost interrupted, softly pretending to punch Soap’s shoulder. “Do me proud!”

Gaz laughed from next to you and waved Ghost off as he made his escape, narrowly avoiding getting hit by one of the leather mitts he’d set down earlier. Soap didn’t give chase after the failed throw though, instead he just stood grumbling to himself and eventually gathered the gear together and slung it into the holdall that Ghost had neglected to take with him. Once the bag dangled from his shoulder, he turned to you and Gaz and flung his head in the direction of the training buildings. 

“So what’s this about hand signals? We gonna have to make you sit and fetch?” Soap asked. 

“You tell me to go fetch and we’re gonna have problems,” you said, pumping the nerf gun’s ammo chamber for emphasis. 

“Christ in heaven,” Soap muttered, heaving himself off across the field. “The things I put up with.”

-🐺- 

The room was heavy with thick silence as you traversed your way around it. You might as well have been glued to Gaz’s side, one of the few sounds that were allowed to permeate the quiet was Gaz’s breathing and the metallic ting of the ancient filament lights. Every second that you walked, you obsessively watched Gaz’s hands, fixing your eyes on them as if they might hold untold treasures.

This was it, the last run through. Gaz paused at the same doorway you’d had to wait outside at least a dozen times already, and quickly held up his fist for ‘halt’. It helped that it was just the same as the standard hand signals that he’d been taught already. From there he pointed two fingers to his side and signalled for halt again. You nodded and moved next to him, looking from his hands to his eyes in quick succession while you waited for further instruction. 

From there he cupped his hands by his ear and pointed at you. You twitched your ears, adjusting yourself so that you could listen out for any tell tale sounds of Soap skulking around from inside. Though there was nothing beyond the annoying skittering of the old ticking clock inside the fake office, so to confirm the silence you shook your head. Gaz then held his finger to the side of his nose and pointed at you, but you held your palm up and waved your other hand around it. Unclear. Smell was little use when you’d all run the training course together so many times, everything stank of the two men at that point. 

Gaz nodded and thought for a second. Time might as well have been a sound, the continuous buzz of the lights or the shaking hands of the clock behind the door, your senses felt like they were blending into a big mush. You were glad when Gaz finally patted his back and held out his palm and then a single finger, signalling to walk back to back with him and watch his six. 

You nodded again and did as asked, making quick work of slinking through the door as quietly as possible and advancing down the corridor beyond. Gaz looked right and left, checking through the first office room on the right quickly and efficiently and kept things moving down the hallway, readying to advance to the next room at the end of the hallway. This was it, there was only one place Soap could be now, you thought. 

However, just as Gaz was heading down the corridor, you could’ve sworn you heard a noise. A faint almost wooden gasp, but it was something nonetheless. You grabbed Gaz’s arm and forced him to a stop, holding your hand to your ear so that he knew you heard something. He narrowed his eyes, honey irises appearing chestnut from under his shadowy gaze. After another few seconds you heard the sound of something making contact with the floor, hell you could've sworn you felt the vibrations of it at that point.

You looked up at Gaz with wild eyes and motioned your head down the hallway from the office that Gaz had assumed was safe. It wasn’t like there was much to sweep that you hadn’t already looked through on all your other runs, so he hadn’t been sloppy to dismiss the empty space. There was just a single desk with an exposed underside, the wall clock and a fake sink set up. The sink had a cupboard but it also had a slew of fake piping that made it impossible to squeeze inside. Or rather it should’ve. 

As soon as you crept back down the hallway, you both stumbled onto Soap emerging from the cupboard like a spider creeping from a crack. He was all arms and legs as he tried to slyly remove himself from the tiny space and before he was able to see you and Gaz, Gaz blasted him with the nerf gun and you ran toward him, ensuring you were out of firing range and jumped up in front of him. Pieces of loose plastic piping scattered from all around the bottom cupboard, and he just about exploded from his skin when you got your face up close to his.

“Steamin Jesus! How’d you know I was in here?” 

“We didn’t, I heard the cupboard opening though,” you explained, wagging your tail all the while. 

Soap sighed and leaned back into the cupboard clutching his hand over his heart for a moment before sitting back up. 

“I suppose I should be happy you’re on our team with those big satellites, fuzzy lugs,” Soap sighed. 

“Hey!” You whined, flattening your ears. “They’re not big satellites.”

“Well not when you put them back like that,” Soap said, a sly smile piercing through his eyes before it reached his lips. 

“Better big fluffy ears than big fluffy hair,” you huffed. 

“Oooh,” Gaz smirked, “Get ‘im.”

“You canny insult the hawk,” Soap sniffed, running a hand through his messy locks. “Nothing you say will convince me this isn’t stunnin’.”

You rolled your eyes and sat back from Soap, about to let him get up when Gaz stopped you both. He held out his hand and demanded you wait a minute, causing you and Soap to turn to one another and frown until all became clear. 

“Gotta get a good photo of our quarry, Pup. All the best hunters get their trophy photo,” Gaz explained, while holding his phone up and adjusting the angle.

Gaz adjusted his pose, tilting his nerf gun so that it crossed his chin and partially obscured his faux serious expression, meanwhile Soap sat back amongst the loose piping and accepted his fate, holding his fingers to his forehead in a fake gun gesture as if he were shooting himself. You weren’t sure what to do. No one ever asked you to be in pictures that weren’t mandated for the government website, so you didn’t know how to pose. 

At the last minute you tilted your head and pulled out a cheeky grin just before Gaz took the photos, the screen flickering black a couple times before he started tapping at his screen and laughing. He walked over to you both and lowered his screen, letting you see the resulting photo that oozed chaos with the silly toy gun and you and Soap sitting atop the mess of piping.

“Ooft, sexy,” Soap whistled. “Get that up on tinder. You’ll get all sorts of tail with that.”

“Oh yeah, caption writes itself - ‘anyone wanna hold my blaster?’” Gaz sniggered, tapping away again. “That’s going on insta.”

You huffed out a surprise breath at that.

“You’re actually putting that up on your socials?” you asked, frowning. 

Gaz ceased his tapping and tilted his chin up at you. 

“Was gonna, why? do you not want it up?” he asked, showing you the photo again. 

The screen tilted round to reveal a confirmation page with the photo sporting a slightly more dramatic filter. He’d been about to post it with a slightly less ridiculous caption at least ‘Mission success: blockage identified - Soap too big for the sink.’

That didn’t stop you from snorting at it of course. 

“I don’t mind - just figured you’ll get people being strange about you showing off that you hang about with the little hybrid weirdo,” you shrugged. 

“Aw, furball. You don’t have to worry about people finding you weird. Your ears aren’t that big and strange you know,” Soap said, rubbing your arm in mock sympathy. “They might not even qualify as full sized satellites, maybe just small radio towers or- Hey!”

You smiled smugly to yourself after flicking Soap on the nose, but quickly dropped the grin when Soap yanked you back by the shoulders and blew a big gust of air into one of your ears.

“No! Disgusting!” You squealed, wrestling him off and slapping him away while he laughed.  

You rubbed at your ear, screwing up your entire face while you tried to work the feeling of Soap’s breath out of your fur and inner canal. The uncomfortable pressure ceased after a few seconds and finally you were able to stop cringing away from Soap enough to see Gaz shaking his head at you both. 

“Aaand its posted. C’mon, we better start clearing out of here. You can fix that mess with the Pipes, Soap.”

“Fuck sake,” Soap cursed, looking around at his mess. “Thought this was gonna be worth it as well.”

His grumbling didn’t stop as he got through his work either. As he put the sink back together you sat on top of the desk by Gaz while he sat on the chair and scrolled through his phone. You didn’t really have anything to do, so you twisted the manual round that you’d been teaching the guys from and started flicking through the old yellowing pages. The corners felt like they might melt away from even just fingering through them, it was so ancient, but that wasn’t the only sign that the book wasn’t from your lifetime. After skipping to a random page, your eyes widened into saucers and your mouth almost dropped to the cold concrete below. 

“What the fuck,” you breathed out loud, reading over the page contents with a dry mouth.  

Gaz’s interest peaked at that. Out of the corner of your peripherals you saw his eyes drift from his phone to look over the page you’d pulled.

“Yo! What the hell is that about,” Gaz cackled, pulling his chair up and scraping it over the concrete to get a closer look. “Proper Maintenance of your Hybrid’s Hygiene? That’s nasty.”

Soap looked over from his work and frowned.

“What’s so nasty about that?” 

“Nah, I can’t tell you. You gotta come over here and see this, mate.”

You frowned down at the book, casting your eyes over the frankly awful illustrations therein with a sickening mix of horror and gratitude for not having to have experienced anything depicted in them for yourself. Below the section title, In the two little boxes with smaller boxes off shooting from them were mirror images of a man standing over a bathtub with a hybrid in it, however in one box there was a female hybrid and the other a male. In the smaller boxes were close up pictures of the illustrated hybrids' tails, ears and genitals with captions that explained the proper way to keep them clean and healthy. 

“As you will well know, being experienced handlers in training,” Gaz read aloud, using a posh old timey voice, “Hybrids do not have the mental capacity that humans possess. As such, they are simply not capable of keeping themselves adequately clean, which means this is a care requirement you must oversee yourself at least once a week. Following the diagrams above you must draw a bath for your hybrid and have them clean their bodies under your guidance and ensure their tails, ears and extremities are maintained to regulation. You must make sure to prevent water flooding their ear canals, as this can cause infection, you must clean and detangle/deshed their tails using a long tooth or a short tooth brush depending on their fur texture, and you must ensure their genitals/nethers are kept cleaned of any discharge, excrement, c-crust build up or- fuckin hell I can’t. This is actual slander. How did they get away with writing this?”

“This is some absolute specist nonsense,” you scoffed, taking the manual from Gaz, who was slowly losing it to soundless laughter, and turning it so that it faced you.

“So in this section it’s basically hammering it into you that I’m apparently too dumb to wash my own shit covered ass, and then in thiiiis page…” you trailed, flicking back a few pages to a title that had almost caught your interest before, “yeah here. In this section it details ‘training techniques and guides for making your hybrid competent in use of blades and blunt weapons.’ So essentially I have to be watched to make sure I get my fuckin ‘crust’ or whatever cleaned off because I’m an incompetent beast, but I can also be reasonably expected to wield a fucking machete! What kind of bullshit is this?!”

Soap and Gaz were dead silent for a few seconds, lips sealed firmly shut and eyes wide as you waved the page around that had the giant sword diagram. That is, until the moment they both looked at each other. After that they burst out into floods of laughter, clutching their chests and howling like animals themselves until tears started falling down their cheeks. 

“It’s not funny!” you growled, taking another look through the ‘guide’ for anymore terrible tidbits. 

“It’s not, it’s really not,” Gaz affirmed, trying to hold in his giggles. “It’s really fucked up, but c’mon, mate. Crust!”

“They didn’t even have to go into that crust shite, but the fact they went on and actually specified the parts in the diagram that had to be cleaned and all that,” Soap wheezed, “I don’t know who the experience is worse for! Where did Ghost even pull this crap from? Did he time travel back to 1945?”

You groaned and turned to the front page, ears drooping back when you found the publishing date. 

“Man, this is from the fucking seventies,” you frowned, realising what torments could’ve befallen you had you been born just a bit earlier. “Wait…you guys don’t think this is Ghost’s personal copy…”

You cut yourself off. All of you were silent.

“Well its possible they could’ve just issued Ghost with an old copy rather than print new ones,” Gaz shrugged, voice weak from laughing so much already. “You know what budgeting’s like.”

“Hold the bus, I’m gonna google something,” Soap announced, pulling his own phone out his trousers and quietly muttering to himself. “Hybrid hygiene, British army regulations…here we go…from the 1960’s hybrids were able to voluntarily join the army or be transferred in from institutes for displaced hybrids and… hygiene was taught in handler training courses and monitored by…then up until 20- steamin’ jesus.” 

“What?” you and Gaz sounded off in unison.

“Essentially says here that the practice of teaching hybrid hygiene and monitoring it didn’t completely end in all British bases until well after Ghost joined up which means…-”

“Ghost is probably a certified crust inspector,” you said gravely. 

At that you all burst out laughing. The room practically shook, none of you could contain yourselves, the sounds ricocheted off the walls and exploded in your ears. Though you couldn’t muster the wherewithal to care. For a few moments you all laughed in a joint heap until slowly you all came back to yourselves and closed the manual, doing all you could to stop yourself from launching it out the skylight above. 

“That’s fuckin awful stuff,” Soap said, finally getting back to finishing up with the sink. “Glad I never signed up for any o’ that pish. I’ll gladly take apart a bomb before I have to supervise you in the tub, furball.” 

“Me too,” Gaz sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Least you’ll never have to get bathed and de-crusted. Almost puts a silver lining on Branhaven if you never had to deal with that, huh?”

“God, I never thought I’d say it, but thank you Maddox for being a neglectful dick,” you muttered, giggling after Gaz snorted from next to you. 

-🐺- 

Later on that day, after Soap and Gaz had dropped you off with Price, the full schedule that you’d been handed weighed heavily on you. You drooped over Price’s sofa and were barely able to read more than a few pages of your new book until you gave up and slumped fully into the cushions. 

You happily dozed off with the sound of Price’s accompanying pen scratches and mutterings, your lips curving into a soft smile against the saggy old cushions. Cigar smoke and musk cradled your prone form and with just the gentlest hint of spiced citrus, you were letting it carry you off to sleep. 

However, before unconsciousness could fully take you, a loud unfamiliar knock sounded at Price’s door and shattered you from any notion of rest. Your heart beat rapidly, chest thumping heavily and you sat up fully and at attention.

You looked over at Price, watching as he put down his pen and shuffled his papers. He made a brief second of eye contact and shrugged as if to tell you that he didn’t know who it was until he looked back toward the darkened door. He’d yet to turn his main light on, instead he sat commanding the room from his lamplit desk. 

“Yes. Who is it?” he barked, rubbing his weary eyes.

“Captain, it’s Major Kelly, I need to speak with you about an incident involving your team’s hybrid. Can I come in?” Called a lilting Irish voice.

Your ears perked up and again you looked at Price, but he didn’t look back at you this time. He set his jaw in a tight line and folded his hands up across the top of his desk, thumping them heavily into the wood. 

“Door’s open, Major,” he called, voice booming in a way you hadn’t heard it before. “Let’s hear it.”

[lorelune]

kaiser is genuinely pathetic when he comes to terms with the fact that he likes you.

it's actually catastrophic how miserable he is in the knowledge that he wants you so badly. just feeling it without you knowing makes him feel weak and vulnerable in all these hurt places he's avoided looking at or acknowledging for as long as he can remember.

it makes him meaner. in general, but specifically to you. you're the thorn in his side that he `can't shake (and he doesn't want to shake you, not really, the idea of you being out of his life sends him into a full blown spiral at least once a day), but he irks your position, poking between his ribs, all the same. he antagonizes you as pay back. he ignores you messages. god forbid he sees you out; he won't even make eye contact with you. if you try and speak to him? he's snapping at you, glaring. it's nearly public degradation.

it's humiliating for both of you in different ways.

god forbid you try to take any space away from kaiser. he's falling apart. pacing holes in the floor energies. he's stalking your socials relentlessly. if you're not actively posting, he's scrolling back through your posts until the very end of your feed. he's looking at every tagged photo and post. he's plotting your demise and crashing out at the same time. yearning like this is so foreign to him and so deeply uncomfortable, he doesn't know what to do with the feeling other than scorn it and you in tandem.

(while craving you. in his hands, on your mind, under your skin. all of it. the depth of his want feels sick.)

part of what he likes about you is that you care, and you care openly, and therefore you are easier to torment and draw attention from. when kaiser is nasty to you, you can only be so charitable to his disposition before lashing out back at him. you don't have the tongue on you to take it very far. you tend to just tear up and ask him to stop 'being so mean'. which unfortunately you begging him in any capacity does crazy things for his ego and his dick--

but there's a very apparent, unignorable part of him that hates to make you sad. that's the pathetic part, and the part that makes him fumble. he'll apologize, make enough nice that you don't walk out of his life despite torment, and he'll torture himself over showing any amount of vulnerability to you.

it's your cycle. the thing that breaks it is when someone else pursues you.

kaiser can't let you go. he's invested in you, even if you don't fully know it. if he finds out someone else is going after you, especially one of his peers?? he is grabbing you for himself and making his 'ownership' of you known, as soon as possible.