#hell yeah south park for the win

[onas-batlle]

Secret Moments in a Crowded Room (p.2 of 5)

pairing: lucy bronze x ona batlle

warnings: excessive comma use (again), and unresolved sexual tension

synopsis: four times Lucy and Ona almost kiss, and the one time they do.

a/n: finally got this one out oml

Ao3 Link

———

Life as a footballer playing in a foreign country meant that finding even a speck of time to see friends and family from home was few and far between. Add on the fact that your little... something, also happened to live in another country meant that it was absolute hell trying to cultivate it into something that would last.

Ever since the wedding, Ona and Lucy had texted regularly, occasionally face timing or calling if they were both free, but things had remained strictly platonic. In fact, Lucy felt that their almost kiss had been entirely wiped from Ona’s mind, except for when she noticed the Spanish player’s gaze drifting further south than her eyes as they spoke through a screen.

One night Lucy was curled up on her couch, a muted Premier League replay playing on the TV, Ona’s face smiling at her from her phone. She wasn’t smiling now, however.

“The derby is soon,” Ona spoke, her brow furrowed in slight worry.

“Yeah? Well, how are you feeling about it? It’s a pretty big game.”

Lucy was all too familiar with the stress of the derby, having played in several of them, if not on the opposing side, and knew the immense pressure that came with it. She knew that the United women’s team had not yet won against the City women, and despite being a City girl at heart, the look on the younger woman’s face made her hope that Manchester United could pull out a win, if only for Ona.

“Very nervous. Dios mío, Lucy! What if I make a mistake and the fans start to hate me? I couldn’t bear it,” came Ona’s reply, Lucy watching as the younger woman worried her lip.

“You won’t, I promise. And the fans love you, so you shouldn’t think about things like that.” It was true, Ona was a fan favourite with the Manchester United fans, and so long as she tried her absolute best - which Ona always did – then they wouldn’t fault her for any mistakes. But Lucy knew that it was perfectly natural to feel the pressure, nonetheless.

“I know it’s a massive thing to ask, but… would you want to come to the derby? Of course you might want to do other things with your weekend off and I don’t expect you to drop everything to come watch the game but-”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Lucy replied, interrupting the Spaniard’s rambling and smiling as Ona positively lit up at her words.

“Really? You’ll come?” God she was pretty, Lucy thought as the other woman beamed at her, delighted by the English woman’s answer.

“Of course. I have been missing Manchester a little as well, you know?” she winked as she mentally began to plan the trip out in her mind.

Flights would be relatively easy, the plane to England from Barcelona only taking a couple of hours. There were, however,  a few logistics to work out, like where she would stay. Her brother didn’t live in Manchester, Jorge remaining in their hometown, but surely Demi would let her stay, right? Her musings were interrupted by Ona, who seemed to have read her mind.

“You can stay at my place, if you want.” The Spaniard blushed bright red as she made the offer, seemingly embarrassed at her rather forward suggestion.

“Yeah? That would be great if I could.”

“I have a spare room I can set up for you! No hay problema,” Ona confirmed, resting her phone on the table to stretch out her arms and yawn.

“Someone’s tired,” Lucy chuckled and was shot an adorably grumpy look by the woman on her screen. She found her heart tightening as she took in Ona’s pout and had to restrain her entire body from talking a screenshot of their call.

“I think I should go,” Ona spoke, a slightly disappointed expression on her face. “Training was, how do you say? Training was no walk in the park?”

“Sí, that is correct,” Lucy laughed at the Spaniards use of the English phrase, and then she felt her voice softening almost involuntarily. “Goodnight Ona, I’ll speak to you soon.”

After a few more minutes of goodbyes and promises to text each other later, they ended the call, and Lucy collapsed back to lay down on her couch. She was going to the Manchester Derby. And she was going to stay at Ona’s house. Where she lived.

She lay there in silence for a few moments before Lucy’s eyes shot open. Fuck, she was meant to visit Jorge.  Once again she opened her phone, immediately dialling her brother disregarding the fact that it was currently 12am.

“Look who decided to grace me with a call at this very late hour, what’s up Luce?” came her brother’s voice from the phone, and Lucy rolled her eyes at his jab.

“Hey Jorge, I know I was supposed to pop around to see the kids my next break, but do you mind if I take rain check? I’ve kind of got other plans.” She knew her brother wouldn’t mind as he was pretty easygoing, and she saw her niece and nephew all the time, so one missed trip wouldn’t be an issue.

“Plans better than entertaining two hyper children for a whole weekend? Can’t believe you would pass on such a fun time, though you always were the boring one, huh, Luce?” Jorge said, leading her to grin fondly. As much as Lucy and her brother gave each other shit, they were close and there was nothing Lucy loved more than her family.

“Oh, fuck off. Anyway, that all good with you? I know it’s last minute and all, and I apologise for letting the kiddos down.”

“That’s alright, I’m sure they’ll survive without Aunt Lucy spoiling them for a whole weekend. What’ve you got planned anyway? Something to do with that Spanish player you’re always banging on about?”

Lucy almost choked on her own spit at those words. She didn’t talk about Ona that much, did she? Now that she thought about it, maybe she did. But the fact that Jorge seemed to think it was romantic was rather suspicious.

“Why would you think that?”

“Whenever we speak it’s all ‘Ona this’, ‘Ona that,’ like Luce, you’re about at subtle as a hurricane.”

Okay, maybe that was fair.

“Stan said something to you didn’t she,” Lucy questioned, almost dead sure that the other Lucy would have said something to her brother, if only for meddling reasons.

“She may have said a few things.. something about you guys being attached at the hip during her wedding?” Jorge responded and internally the fullback cursed her friends for having such big gobs.

“Her and Jordan can’t keep their mouths shut to save their lives. We’re just friends, and I’m going to watch the derby, as a friend.”

“Ah yes, the age old term: friends. You know Stan sent me that picture of you guys at the reception, and I gotta say the heart eyes are remarkable for ‘just friends’.” Despite it only being a phone call, the eyebrow wiggle was so loud that Lucy could practically see it.

“Ah, I don’t know. Think Ona just sees us as friends now.”

“Have you actually spoken to her about it?” Jorge asked, voice taking on a sincere tone that was different to his usual jokey one that he used with Lucy.

“No, and I’m totally okay with that.”

“Okay, okay. But I’m just saying, Keira has moved on so-”

“Why shouldn’t I? I’ve heard it all before.” Lucy let out a sigh.  “Look, I’ll talk to you later, yeah? Tell the kids I said hi.”

“Definitely will. And Lucy?”

“Hm?”

“If there really is something there, then I think it would be worth to talk to her about it.”

“Rare moment of wisdom from you there,” she spoke, and while she was poking fun at her brother, she appreciated his interest and willingness to offer her advice.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it,” came the sarcastic retort, and Lucy cracked another smile at her brother’s words.  They often teased the hell out of one another, sure, but her brother always had her back and was able to offer her moments of clarity when she was stuck.

“Well, I’ll have a think about it. Chat to you later.”

“Don’t be an idiot Luce!” she heard as she cut off the call, flopping back down onto her back. Manchester here she comes, she supposed.

--

The trip to England had gone pretty smoothly, Ona and Lucy agreeing to meet up after the match and head back to the former’s place, and so Lucy found herself walking up the steps of Leigh Sports Village without having even caught a glimpse of the Spaniard she had come to see.  She had opted to be as incognito as possible, donning an all black outfit, sunglasses, and a cap, and crossed both her fingers and toes that she wouldn’t be spotted as it would only start a huge wave of speculation as to why she was present. Unfortunately, her hopes of remaining invisible were soon dashed.

“Lucy!”

Lucy internally groaned as she heard the Dutch accent yelling her way, and slowly spun on her heel to face the smiling figure of her national team coach. Sarina was waving her over, and it wasn’t like she could blank her, so Lucy reluctantly made her way over to the older woman\’s seat.

“Hey Sarina, didn’t think I’d see you here,” she greeted, sending a smile and a wave to Arjan, the assistant coach of the Lionesses, who was seated next to her coach.

“Neither. I thought you would be in Spain. What brings you to the derby?”

“Um, just was just in Manchester and wanted to see my old club play. That’s all,” Lucy responded unconvincingly, cursing the flush that spread across her cheeks.  There was nothing illegal about her going to watch the derby match, so why did she feel like she had been caught?

“Well, would you want to sit with us? I’d appreciate your insight, especially now that Leah’s injured.”

“Yeah, sure,” she relented. I mean, who could say no to their national team coach?

As she settled into the seat next to Sarina, she knew that her anonymity would be well and truly gone. Despite her attempt to remain incognito and support Ona undetected, being seated next to bloody Sarina Weigman hardly made her blend into the crowd, and so she sat down next to the Dutch woman with a touch of disappointment on her features. No visible cheering for Ona was on the cards now, she supposed.

The game started well for United, Hayley Ladd scoring an absolute stunner of a goal, and Lucy couldn’t help but feel ridiculously proud when she saw the jubilance on Ona’s face.

Football had always been a beautiful sport to Lucy, no matter who was playing, but watching Ona was play was positively mesmerising. The way her muscles flexed as she meticulously controlled the ball, and the glitter of sweat that glistened on her abs as she pulled her shirt up to wipe her face had the English fullback positively gobsmacked.

“Lucy! Lucy? Are you listening?” Her coach’s familiar voice pierced the bubble of lust that Lucy had found herself in, and she gave Sarina sheepish smile as she met the older woman’s eyes.

“Sorry, what was that?”

The Dutch woman’s eyes narrowed as she took in her player, and Lucy nervously swallowed under the scrutiny,

“Which one are you sweet on?”

“Pardon?” Lucy replied, eyes bugging out of her head as she stared at Sarina in shock.

“One of the United players. You are involved with one of them, I can tell. You’ve been distracted this whole time and was happy when they scored.” Well, she was caught there. Sarina levelled Lucy with a knowing look and tilted her head in question as the fullback sighed. While Sarina was technically her boss, she had also become somewhat of a friend, and she cared deeply about the players that she coached so Lucy felt rather alright with sharing her current situation. Plus, Sarina could tell when she was lying.

“It’s, uh, the right back. Number two. And it’s not really anything yet.”

The older woman let out a hum of acknowledgement and shot a smile Lucy’s way. “Well she’s a very talented player. Passionate. I like that. Much like you are.”

Lucy blushed at the compliment, always priding herself in playing with as much passion as possible. And she agreed with the initial statement as well. Ona’s football oozed passion; with every pass, dribble, cross, and shot she took, you could see just how much she loved the sport, and Lucy in turn adored her for that.

Midway through the game, her phone pinged, and she was met with a simple photo of Jorge’s TV screen, herself front and centre. Yikes. Well, there was absolutely no hiding now.

The game ended with a late goal from United, leading the Red Devils to their first ever derby win and cementing their spot in the Champions League. Ona was awarded player of the match – which in Lucy’s opinion should always be awarded to her – and she sent a cute little wave in their direction when she spotted the older defender in the crowd, making Lucy blush a little from her spot next to Sarina.

After saying her goodbyes and signing a few autographs for some fans who had noticed her, Lucy headed in the direction of the carpark, having made an agreement with Ona to meet her there subsequent to the match. Surprisingly she only had to wait a few minutes before Ona came barrelling out of the building, sports bag in hand.

“Lucy! We woooonnn!” Ona yelled, dropping her bag and wrapping Lucy into a tight hug, causing the older woman to stumble back a little due to the unexpected contact. Ona smelt like apples and cinnamon, and Lucy couldn’t help but inhale her scent a little until she berated herself for just how creepy that was and forced herself to stop.

“I did see that,” Lucy laughed, “Congratulations Ona. I told you that you had nothing to worry about.”

Ona smiled widely at that, arms still wrapped around the other fullback’s torso. “I’m sorry that you had to watch your team lose, but Manchester is RED!”

“I suppose, but just this once.”

Ona smacked her lightly on the shoulder at that – a move that was starting to feel oh so familiar – and then motioned her head in the direction of her car after noticing that they were attracting some curious looks from passers-by. After throwing her bag in the back alongside Ona’s, Lucy climbed into the passenger seat and made a show of settling down, letting out an exaggerated sigh of contentment and earning a giggle from the Spanish fullback.

“Gotta enjoy being passenger princess for once,” Lucy grinned, winking at the woman in the driver’s seat who laughed out loud for what seemed to be the hundredth time that afternoon. Lucy loved that laugh and made a vow to do anything she could to hear it again, and again, and again.

The car ride was nice, if not a little scary, as Lucy had to grab onto the ‘oh shit!’ bar a few times as Ona hurtled around a corner. The English woman made a mental note that if they drove anywhere together again, then she would muscle her way into the driver’s seat as while she liked just being a passenger sometimes, she valued her life way more.

When Lucy finally stepped into Ona’s apartment, she took a moment to just take in her appearance. It felt incredibly homely, and while it was clean, it still looked well lived in with smatterings of photographs everywhere which made Lucy smile softly. She found herself hoping that maybe a photo of herself might make itself home there one day.

“Nice place you’ve got here.”

Ona blushed. “Thanks. I tried to make it as much like home as possible.”

“Well you’ve done a great job with the decorating,” Lucy smiled, dropping her sports bag next to the door and picking up a mug with the word ‘Penal-tea’ emblazoned on it alongside a graphic of a football.

“The girls bought it to make me more English or something,” Ona rolled her eyes as she noticed the mug the English fullback was eyeing, causing Lucy to let out a laugh. “Anyway, come sit!”

Lucy didn’t need to be told twice as she threw herself onto Ona’s couch and watched on as the Spaniard grabbed a few snacks before kicking off her shoes and coming to rest next to Lucy. They fell into easy conversation, TV playing an old rerun of Friends (“Joey is so funny, Lucy!”), and Lucy had never felt lighter.

Neither of them had even noticed that they had gravitated towards each other until Lucy’s eyes flicked down to Ona’s lips and noticed that all she would have to do to capture them with her own was to tilt her head forward a few centimetres.

When she moved her focus back up, she saw that Ona had that look in her eyes – the same one she had at the wedding – and Lucy swallowed nervously under the Spaniard’s intense gaze.

She suddenly became aware of every single point of contact between them, their shoulders that were pressed together, Ona’s feet that rested over Lucy’s outstretched legs, their hands that brushed together ever so slightly, and Lucy felt her body start to tingle.

Ona was so close that Lucy could count every freckle on her face, and a sliver of bare skin of her stomach peeked out from where her shirt had ridden up slightly. She was wearing fuzzy socks, always being one to feel the cold, and there was a little smudge of chocolate on her lips which Lucy longed to kiss away.

Slowly, if not surely, they found themselves leaning in, and Lucy could just, almost…

BANG!

The sound of the door slamming forced the footballers apart, and they practically threw themselves onto opposite ends of the couch.

“Oh-na!” came Ella Toone’s bellowing voice, and the familiar tones of Alessia’s voice soon filled the apartment as well.

They only had to wait a few moments until the two girls barged into the room and came to a dead halt in front of them, faces painted with looks of surprise.

“What are you doing here Luce?” Ella asked, blinking owlishly at Ona and Lucy while Alessia’s mouth slowly spread into a knowing smile.

“Uh, Ona invited me to watch the derby,” she managed to get out, still rather shaken by her moment with the other fullback and the rude interruption that followed.

“Well, that was nice of her wasn’t it?” Ella laughed, realisation slowly dawning on her face as she took in just how awkwardly Ona and Lucy were sitting as they attempted to be normal.

“Yeah, super nice,” Alessia added, her voice wavering as she threatened to break into giggles as she nudged her best friend in the side. Ona looked mortified.

“Anyway, we came to ask if she wanted to come out to celebrate the win with us, but we’ve decided that you’re both coming.”

With those words, the duo was on them, and Lucy could just catch Ona mouthing an apologetic ‘lo siento’, before Alessia and Ella were dragging the both of them every which way to get them ready to go out.

As she was being ordered around by Ella, Lucy silently cursed the world for being a massive cockblock, and knew that there was likely no way in hell they would get a minute alone now that Ona’s teammates knew the English woman was in town.

Her only consolation was that at least she knew that based on the two ‘almost kisses’ they had shared, she was not simply imagining the tension between them. Gritting her teeth as Ella threw an outfit at her that she had scavenged from Lucy’s bag, she made a silent promise to herself that she would get that kiss - at least before the World Cup began in a few months’ time.

#lucy bronze x ona batlle #ona batlle x lucy bronze #lucy bronze #ona batlle #woso fanfics #woso imagine #my fics

[jewbeloved]

The pink eyed situation with Team Stan and their s/o🧟🧟‍♂️💗💗👀

This is Halloween special post🎃🎃🎃🎃

Since I liked the writing I did for the preschool episode, I decided to do another for the episode called 'Pink eye'

Here's the episode If you can't watch it: https://www.wcoforever.net/south-park-season-1-episode-7-pink-eye

Warnings: Blood/violence, a little death wishing.

Gender: Neutral

💙💚 The Main Four ❤️🧡

It's a "normal" casual day in south park.

You were standing at the bus stop with the boys.

All of a sudden, a big metal thing landed on Kenny and squashed him to smithereens.

"Oh my god, they killed Kenny!"

"You bastards!" You and Kyle looked at each other for a sec realizing that you both said the same thing together.

"What the hell is that thing?" Cartman pointed at the contraption that killed Kenny.

"It looks like a UFO!"

"Theres no such thing as UFOs!"

You guys then watch as the ambulances pulled up and put Kenny into a bag labeled as 'Body Bag'.

"C'mon, let's get him to the morgue" They began to drive off with Kenny.

"Wait until you guys see my Halloween costume tomorrow, it kicks ass"

"Dude, it can't be cooler than mine!"

"Man, we gotta get home and get our costumes ready!"

"I already have my costume ready" You said trying to be proud.

"Well we'll see about that Y/n! my costume is going to be better then yours! you better not be dressing up as a hippie!"

You sticked your tongue at Cartman before you all parted ways to your houses.

...

"You look like a pansy!"

"Shut up Kyle!"

"What are you supposed to be anyways?"

"I'm Raggedy Andy"

"Heh, why did you dress up as raggedy Andy dude?"

"Because Wendy is going as raggedy an, and she said this is the way we will win the contest for sure!"

"No way dude, I'm going to win the contest with this sweet Chewbacca costume!"

"Wendy said the prize is 2 tons of candy!"

"Cool!"

Cartman then showed up in his costume.

"Hey dudes"

"Cartman! what kind of costume is that???"

"It's Adolf Hitler costume, Sieg heil! Sieg heil!"

"Where you get that?"

"My mom made it, isn't it cool?"

"No it's not cool!!"

"What are you supposed to be Stan, Howdy doody?"

"No I'm raggedy Andy fatass!"

"Oh..wow, you look pretty kewl!"

Cartman and Kyle began to laugh.

"Sissy!"

"I'll kick your ass Kyle!"

"Oh look out! Highly happy is all pissed off!"

The boys saw Kenny approach them.

"Oh look, Kenny is not dead!" Kenny stood there in silence.

"You forgot to wear a costume Kenny!"

"What's the matter? couldn't your family afford a costume for you?" Stan teased.

"Yeah, why is your family so poor Kenny?"

"Kenny's family is so poor, that yesterday they had to put their cardboard up for a second morgue!"

Kyle giggled.

Kenny still stood there in silence.

"I said your family had to put a cardboard up for a second morgue, Kenny!"

Silence.

"I'm talking to you Kenny!"

Silence.

"Poor piece of crap..."

They suddenly realize something.

"Hey, where's Y/n?"

"Eh, guess Y/n won't be showing-"

"BOO!" You jumped out from behind Cartman and it scared him.

"Woah dude!"

"Where did you come from Y/n?!"

"I sneaked up behind Cartman while you guys were talking to Kenny and I figured I should give you all a scare :3"

"You little bitch! that wasn't funny!"

"And what are you supposed to be Y/n?"

"Oh, I'm wearing (Favorite Halloween costume) Do you guys like it?"

They took a look at what you're wearing.

"Not as cool as my costume! that's for sure!"

They began to laugh at you while Kenny still remained silent.

"Oh........." You look down with a hint of lil sadness.

Don't worry, they actually do like what you're wearing <3

The bus driver pulled up after a few seconds.

"Get on! we're running late!" Miss Crabtree yelled.

"We're always running late ya ugly stank"

"What did you say?!"

"I said, I can't wait to own a fishing tank!"

"Oh.....neither can I..." The boys got on the bus while you followed right behind them.

Cartman sat with Kenny on one side, Kyle and Stan sat on the other.

"Whoops, Y/n you're going to have to sit in the back with all the other losers!"

"Hmm..." You sat on Cartman's lap without hesitation.

"Haha! you're a seat now fatass!" Kyle pointed at Cartman while laughing.

"Shadd up Kahlll!" Cartman yelled while blushing at the fact that you were sitting in his lap.

After a while, Cartman submitted in defeat and wrapped his arms around your waist so you wouldn't fall off his lap.

"This is the only time I will allow you to sit in my lap, after that you better go sit somewhere else!"

"Hehe, whatever Eric"

"Stop calling me by my first name!!!"

"You never seem to have a problem with me saying it the first time thought"

Cartman did his little tantrum whine while you rolled your eyes.

...

"Wait until everyone sees my Chewbacca costume. They are going to be so jealous!"

When you guys look at the whole class, you saw other kids wearing the Chewbacca costume Kyle was wearing.

"Everyone came as Chewbacca?!"

"It sure does seem to be a popular costume this year Kyle" Mr Garrison chime in while wearing a white dress.

"Damn it!" Kyle threw off his Chewbacca mask.

"Wendy!"

"Hi Stan"

"You said we're going to be raggedy an and Andy together!"

"Yeahhhh"

"We we're going to enter the contest as a pair!"

"I know, but then...I just realized how stupid we would look!"

"You what?!"

"I thought you would reach the same conclusion, so I came as Chewbacca!"

Stan began to bang his head on the desk as 2 guys walked past him.

"Hey Stan! you look pretty enough to kiss!"

"Yeah! you wanna be my girlfriend?"

"Hey dude, all of a sudden my costume is pretty badass"

"Dude! dressing up as Hitler is not badass!"

"You're just jealous! why don't you go back to endor you stupid wussy!"

"wookie don't live on endor!" Cartman mocked what Kyle said in a baby voice.

"Well at least my mom isn't on the cover of crack whore magazine!"

"What?!"

"Crack whore magazine?"

"Okay, all you little Chewbaccas take your seats"

Everyone did what they were told to do and sat down in their seats. You sat down right in front of Kenny and Kyle.

"Children since today is Halloween, I thought we can learn something about the new horror writer Jackie Collem"

You felt somebody tugging at your costume, you turned around saw Kyle tugging at it.

"What are you doing Kyle?" You whispered to him so Mr Garrison wouldn't hear.

"Nothing!" He immediately turned his head away with a little hint of blush on his cheeks.

While Mr Garrison was still teaching, you saw Kenny's arm fall off and landed on the floor next to his desk.

"Ew!" Wendy cringed.

"Is there a problem Kenny?"

Kenny stood in silence again, you started to get creeped out since you haven't heard a word from Kenny ever since.

"Let's try to keep our hands to ourselves okay?"

"Your never gonna win that 2 tons of candy looking like everybody else"

...

"I'm gonna make a new costume during recess I can still win that candy!"

"You gonna dress up as a pumpkin Kyle?"

Stan and Cartman laughed at what you said.

"No I'm not, shut up Y/n!"

Cartman looked over to see Kenny not eating his pudding.

"Hey Kenny are you going to eat your pudding?"

"No Eric, you can take my pudding If you like" Cartman mimicked Kenny's voice.

"Why thank you Kenny, how nice of you"

"Aren't you hungry Kenny?"

Silence.

"He hasn't said anything or moved an inch"

"Hello Children!"

"Hey Chef!" Chef looked to see Cartman eating Kenny's pudding while wearing the costume.

"What in the hell are you doing dressed up as that?!"

"Eating Kenny's pudding..."

"Hello children, oh love the elvis costume Mr Chef" Principal Victoria greeted the boys and Chef.

"Elvis? Im evil kaneva, why the hell would I dress up as Elvis!"

"Well then why the hell would you dress up as evil kaneva? Anyways I hope you children are-" Victoria pause when she saw Cartman's costume.

"Eric! God bless it, what do you think your doing?!"

"Hey! he said I could have his pudding, ask him yourself!"

"That's right principal Victoria, It's fine with me because Eric is cool!" Cartman mimicked Kenny's voice again while moving his head with the spoon.

"Where did you get that costume young man!"

"My mom made it, Sieg heil! Sieg heil!"

"Shhh! god bless America. you get into my office before anyone else sees you!" Victoria began dragging Cartman away from the table and to her office.

"I have to show you an educational video"

"Eh?! I don't want to see an educational video!"

Just as Clyde approached the table you guys were sitting at, you saw Kenny jump and bit Clyde's arm.

"Ah! you bit my arm!!"

"Oh good! Kenny's back to normal!"

"But he just bit Clyde's arm!"

Stan and Kyle look at you with a confused expression.

"What are you talking about Y/n?"

"He-....oh nevermind..."

...

"Watch the video Eric" Victoria turned on the TV showing a video of Hitler.

*After the video ended*

"Now do you have any questions?"

"Can I see that again It was cool!"

"You must remove that costume immediately!"

"I can't! I have to win those 2 tons of candy!"

"Well how about we make you a new costume, let's see....hah!" She grabbed the white cloth off the shelf.

"How about we make you a nice scary ghost costume" She placed the cloth over Cartman's head.

"I don't wanna be a stupid scary ghost!"

"Let me just make a few alterations....and there you go!"

Cartman's new costume was completed.

...

The costume contest was starting.

"Boo! I'm a ghost!"

"Man, I feel like a total chode!"

"Oh come on Stan, maybe it's because you do look like a total chode"

"Hello Children!"

"Hey Chef!" Chef screamed and walked away when he saw Cartman's costume.

"Wow! Chef's really scared of ghosts huh!"

"Hey, where Kyle?"

"Check this out!" Kyle merged from the 2 doors revealing his new costume.

"So you did dress up as a pumpkin?"

"I am not a pumpkin!"

"You look like one though"

"Don't make me kick your ass Y/n!" Kyle came closer to you with an angry look on his face.

"Woah dude!"

"What is that?"

"I'm the whole solar system dude! The planets even revolve the right way, that tub of candy is as good as mine"

"Hmm.....still a pumpkin :^"

Kyle punched you in the arm, but not too hard though.

"Okay children, let's get you all in line so the judges can look at your stupid little costumes"

Everyone got in line.

"Children this year we have a celebrity judge the star of family ties, Miss Tina utter!"

"Who?"

"Dude I thought she was dead"

"Yeah, me to"

Miss Tina utter handed Mr Garrison the board.

"Thank miss utter, okay. The 2nd best costume goes to.....Kenny! For his Edward Janes costume!"

Miss Tina utter placed a 2nd ribbon on Kenny.

"And the award for the very best costume goes to....Wendy! for her Chewbacca costume!"

"What?! but she looks the same like everyone else! Up yours Tina utter!"

"And the award for the worst costume goes to..Stan for his stupid little clown thing costume, let's all point at Stan and laugh children"

Mr Garrison and a few of the other kids laugh at Stan before walking away.

"Thanks a lot Wendy! you ruined my Halloween!"

"Relax Stan, you'll feel a lot better once we're out trick or treating"

"I don't want to trick or treat with you, you lied to me!"

"Alright children, let's gather around and Bob for stupid apples now. You go first Bebe"

Bebe stuck her head into the water trying to get the apples.

"That's good, just use that mouth like the girls in Bayjay"

"Brains!" Clyde tackled Bebe and began drowning her while biting her.

"Wait your turn Clyde!"

...

"Where the hell is Kyle? we don't have all night to wait for him!"

"I bet I get more candy then you dude"

"Your still wearing that costume Stan?"

"Shut up Y/n!"

"Are you crazy? I'm the candy master!"

"No your the ass master, there's a difference"

"Ay! I'm not the one walking around all day looking like hippie longstocking!"

"Oh yeah? well my mom's not on the cover of crack whore magazine!"

"Goddamn it! My mom is not on the cover of crack whore magazine!!"

"Hey dudes"

"Don'tdrinkmyblood!"

"What?"

"Nothing!"

"Good you're here, now let's make sure we got everything. Flashlight?"

"Check!"

"Plastic pumpkin tales?"

"Check!"

"Taser"

"What's that?"

"For shocking people who try to give us granola treats or something"

"Yeah, granola pisses me off"

Kenny approached you all without saying a word, again.

"Hey Kenny!" Kenny stood in silence.

"Pew! you stink Kenny!'

"You still don't got a costume yet Kenny?"

"Eh, too bad drinking stotchs isn't a job or else Kenny's dad would be a millionaire!"

Silence.

"I said your dad would be a millionaire Kenny!"

Silence.

"Kenny!"

Silence.

"I don't like Kenny anymore, he just doesn't communicate"

"Hi guys!"

"Hi Wendy"

"How's your barrel full of candy Wendy!"

"Oh, I didn't want all that sweet stuff. I gave it away to hungry children"

(Well that's very nice of her :3)

"You what?! are you insane?!"

"Let's go trick or treat!"

"I don't think so Wendy, I think you had enough candy for one day"

"Stan, I'm awfully sorry that you got dressed up as raggedy Andy please don't be mad"

"How can he be mad with such pretty hair and rosy cheeks!"

"Trick or treat with yourself Wendy!"

"But Stan"

"No buys Wendy, I wish you were dead!"

As you and the boys began to walk away you looked behind and saw Wendy being attacked by a zombie.

"Ah!"

...

The boys ran the neighbor's doorbell and the neighbor opened her door.

"Trick or treat!"

Kenny's other arm fell off.

"Oh how cute"

Just as she was giving you and the boys their candy, Kenny repeatedly bit her arm.

"Dude, Kenny!"

"Oh my god! call 911! call 911!" The lady closed her door.

"Nice going Kenny, she was about to give us candy!"

"Yeah! she had sweetie pops!"

"You owe me a sweetie pop asshole!"

You started to catch on that Kenny might be a zombie, but the guys won't believe you If you told them so you just remained silent.

...

You guys rang another doorbell and a man came out.

"Treat or trick!"

"Hope you guys love chocolate buttercream puffies!"

Kenny began bitting the man on the arm.

"Ah! get it off! get it off me! Gahh!!!!"

The boys stood there in silent watching while you had a nervous look on your face.

"Damnit! we'll never get any candy If Kenny keeps eating people!"

"Yeah, that's it Kenny you can't trick or treat with us anymore!"

You guys proceed to leave Kenny alone with him still eating the man.

Kyle rang the doorbell for another house.

"Trick or treat!"

The people opened up the door wearing ghost costumes like Cartman.

"Hey, they're all dressed up as ghosts too!"

The people placed one single candy into Cartman's bucket.

"2D bar?! you cheap bastards!"

You guys went to another house while ignoring the chaos going on in the town.

You ranged another door bell.

"Trick or-" The door immediately opened with Chef holding 2 chainsaws in his hands.

"Ahhhhhh!!!!" You and the boys got scared.

"Get off my property you brain eating zombie bastards!"

"Chef! Chef!"

"Chef no!"

"Oh sorry children, I thought you were one of them!"

"Can we have some candy now please?"

"Damn boy, what in the hell are you doing dressed up like that?!"

"I'm trying to trick or treat goddamn it!"

"Remind me to whoop your ass next time, now get in here before those zombies get ya!"

You guys walked into Chef's house and closed the door.

The boys proceeded to sit on Chef's couch.

You decided to be cheeky again and sat on Kyle's lap.

"Hahaha! who the seat now Kahl!!"

"Shut up fat boy!"

Kyle just immediately gave in and wrapped his arms around your waist too so you wouldn't fall off.

"What are you talking about Chef?"

"Zombies children, south park is overrun with the living dead. Haven't you noticed anything strange lately?"

You opened your mouth to say something but immediately closed it.

"Well, not really except that Kenny keeps on eating people's brains"

"Don't you children see? Kenny's turn into a zombie like everyone else in town!"

"Oh my god, that means"

"If everyone's turn into zombies"

"There won't be anyone to give us candy!"

The boys gasped.

"Ahhhh!"

"Chef! you've got to help us!"

"I'm working on it children"

You guys watched him pack the chainsaws into a bag.

"Wait, where are we going?"

"The doctor said that the first people that he treated were the morgutan and his assistant. We'll get to the bottom of this, at the morgue"

You look behind you to see that Stan and Cartman were shaking, including Kyle.

"You guys okay?"

You heard a fart noise and it sounded like it was coming from Kyle.

The boys began to laugh.

"Kyle, really?" Your cheeks were tinted with red from the 2nd hand embarrassment.

"What?" He giggled at your reaction as you began to pout.

"Alright you can stop pouting now, you're too adorable for that" He began ruffling your h/c hair.

...

"I don't know about this Chef"

"Yeah, I'm scared"

"Candy, focus on the candy..."

"What are we doing here Chef?"

"Just look for anything suspicious"

You and the boys begin to search through the drawers and desks while Chef does the same thing.

"I found it! I found it!" Kyle pulled out a certain magazine that had Cartman's mom on the cover.

"What?"

"See Cartman! your mom is on the cover!"

Cartman began to stutter with his words while freaking out.

"We told you dude!"

"Let me take that Kyle"

"Hey Chef, look!"

Chef spotted a yellow bottle, it was labeled 'Worcestors shire sauce'. The bottle also had a hotline number.

"I've gotta call this hotline number children!"

Before Chef could dial the number, the zombies broke through the windows and the walls.

One of the zombies was Pip who broke the window that was behind Chef.

"Pinkkkkk eyeeeee"

"It's the british kid! except he's a little limey zombie now!"

More zombies broke in as they speak.

"Look out children!"

One of the zombies broke through the floor in front of me and the boys.

Stan immediately picked up a bat and started wacking the zombie back to the floor.

"Okay Chef! dial the hotline number!"

Chef didn't respond.

"Chef?"

"Guys look!"

The boys look and saw that Chef was one of the zombies now.

"Chef!!!!"

You guys watched as Chef started singing and the zombies were standing to the song.

"Let's out of here!" you followed Stan out of the building while Cartman and Kyle followed behind.

...

"We've gotta call that Worcesters sauce number!"

"Hey! there's a pay phone!"

"Kyle, you call the number"

"But the zombies are coming!"

"We'll hold them off!" Stan and Cartman picked up the chainsaws Chef had before running to kill off the zombies.

"I should've brought my (Favorite weapon) If I had the chance to" I leaned on the booth in misery.

"Calm down Y/n, just wait right there while I call the number"

Kyle looked at the number on the bottle before opening the glass and grabbing the phone to dial the number.

The same usual robotic voice was talking over the phone saying to press 1 and all that shit.

Kyle jumped up to press the number before calling again.

...

"Nobody screws up my trick or treating and gets away with it!"

Cartman jumped towards the zombie man and sliced his head off with the chainsaw.

"Kewl!"

Stan did the same thing and succeeded.

"Sweet!"

...

I was now leaning onto Kyle while having my arms around his legs, tired as he still struggles to get the people to answer.

The lady on the phone finally answered him.

"There's a bunch of zombies here!"

"Please hold" The lady on the phone put him on hold.

"Kyle..?"

"Goddammit! these people put me on hold!"

...

Stan and Cartman were still decapitating zombies, giving Kyle some more time.

As Stan was cutting off a zombie's head, he saw Wendy approach him and it looked like she had turned into one of the zombies herself.

"Wendy?"

"Arrhghs" Wendy made a zombie growl noise.

"Finish her dude, she's a zombie now" Cartman said walking up next to Stan while holding his chainsaw.

"I know...but I....but I..." Stan hesitated.

"Come on Stan, remember how she did you at the costume contest?"

"Hey yeah!" Stan raised his chainsaw a little as Wendy proceeded to approach him closer.

...

"The first thing you need to do is to make sure you're not decapitating zombies left and right do you understand? Do NOT start decapitating zombies left and right!"

"Uhhhh okay! then what?"

You shifted uncomfortable on the ground wondering when this is going to be over so you could get some candy with the boys :>

...

Wendy growled at Stan again, closing in on him.

"Wendy, I know we had a fight and I wished you were dead...but..I didn't mean it"

"Kill her Stan!" Cartman was getting impatient.

...

"All you have to do is kill the original zombie, the one that started this whole mess. Once you kill the original zombie all the other zombies will go back to normal"

"Original zombie? well how the hell do we know who the original zombie is?"

"Maybe it's Kenny because we did see him act strange today before we heard about zombies taking over south park, so it might be him"

Kyle looked at you for a sec before thinking about it in his head.

"Wait, that thing before landed on Kenny, and they took him to the morgue! You said something helpful for once at the moment Y/n" Kyle gave you a playful glare before you started to giggle.

...

Wendy was getting more closer to Stan by the second, ready to bite him and turn him into a zombie.

"I....I can't..." Stan lowered his chainsaw down.

You watched as Kyle went over to Kenny and began cutting him in half with the chainsaw that picked up in his hands. Kenny's body fell to the ground with blood pooling all around him.

"Oh my god, I killed Kenny! You bastard!"

"Now that's a lot of damage" you said trying to crack a joke at the moment.

"Uh....what happened..?" Wendy turned back to normal as Stan held her hand from behind.

"Don't worry Babe, everything is going to be okay"

"It's working! they're turning back to normal!" You saw that all the people who were zombies are back to normal.

"You did it children!" chef says popping out of nowhere.

"Okay let's go trick or treating now, come on!"

"I'm sorry that I dissed you like that at school Stan, I guess I wasn't considerate of your feelings"

"That's okay Wendy, I'm sorry that I wished you were dead"

"Maybe we could actually kiss tonight Stan" Wendy started to lean close to Stan to kiss him but he ended up getting nervous and vomited on her.

"Eh! gross Stan! sick! Barf is gross!" Wendy said in disgust as she walked away.

I ended up snorting at the scene and Stan turned around to glare at me before he started to chase me as we catch up with Kyle and Cartman to go trick or treating again.

...

The boys gathered around Kenny's gravestone.

"Oh man, I can't believe he's gone"

"Yeah, he was too young to be taken away from us"

"Dude, you're the one who cutted him in half with a chainsaw"

"Let us remember the good times Kenny wanted us..." Cartman was cut off by his crying.

"You know, I learned something today. Halloween isn't about costumes or candy, it's about being good to one or other and giving and loving"

"Dude, that's Christmas"

"Oh, what's Halloween about then?"

"Costumes and Candy"

Cartman continued with his crying before stopping out of nowhere.

"Welp, let's go home and start eating that candy"

"We can eat it at Cartman's house and see more naughty pictures of his mom!"

"Knock it off you guys! She said she was young and needed the money!"

"Cartman, those pictures were like taken last month!"

"Eh!...E-Eh!....screw you guys!!!!"

Bonus part B)

When they reached Cartman's house, they found you eating out of Cartman's candy bucket.

"AH! Y/n!? What the hell are you doing?!? get away from mah candy bucket!!"

"No!" You said in a playful way while running around with his candy bucket in your hands as Stan and Kyle began to laugh at the scene before them.

Halloween is tomorrow everyone! Stay safe and have a happy Halloween!!🎃🎃🎃

#south park x reader #south park #kyle broflovski x reader #stan marsh x reader #eric cartman x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick #wendy testaburger #eric cartman #kyle brovlofski #stan marsh #pink eyes #zombies #early halloween #halloween #happy halloween #southpark sp #southpark blog #sp x reader #x reader #southpark x y/n #southpark scenarios #southpark headcanons

[tkachuktkaching]

Matthew Tkachuk talking on life in Florida as top destination in the NHL

You’ve had a lot of time to chill. What the hell have you been up to?I’ve been hanging out and going to the beach a lot. I’ve taken a few quick trips. One of the perks of living in Florida is you have the ocean right there. It’s super good for your body and mind to go in there—it’s pretty peaceful in there. I’ve gone out a couple times for dinner. But mostly I’m just staying quiet at the house.

Obviously, I’m using everything in the basket to try and win it all here. 

Oh, I went to the Heat game the other night! I got to see Game 6 and sat with Charles [Barkley] and Shaq for a little bit.  

How fun was it to guest on Inside the NBA and witness that legendary Charles and Shaq energy up close?

It was awesome! It all happened last minute—literally that morning I was asked if I wanted to come to the game and talk with Charles and Shaq. Hell yeah! Let’s do it. But what was really cool was talking to those guys off camera. That’s when we were really talking. Hockey, sports, golf, just talking about everything, getting to pick their brains, and learn about stuff I don’t really know about was super entertaining. 

The idea of playing hockey in Florida always has this kind of funny connotation. It’s a relatively new franchise, you’re playing in warm weather in the south, it’s a very opposite idea of what most people have in their head when they think of the NHL. But you’re making it all sound pretty great.

It’s the top destination in the NHL. When you look at it—this is my opinion, and I would say most people’s opinion—the top two destinations in the league right now are the Florida teams. Third would probably be Vegas. It’s funny how that’s who we’re playing in the Final. People probably don’t look at Florida as the biggest hockey market, but Tampa’s won all these Cups recently and been to a bunch of Finals, the Panthers had some good runs before I got here, and when you go out West, Vegas has been right there at the top. Dallas has been right there too. These warmer climate markets aren’t the same as Toronto or Montreal, but the success that everyone’s had down here is no secret.  

When I chose to come here, the number one reason was to be on a competitive team, compete for championships year over year, right behind that was the way of life. But you’re not just coming here to live the Florida life, you’re coming here to win. It’s just a perk that you get to live in Florida on top of all that. My life has changed so much since coming [to Florida]. The lifestyle has been unbelievable. The way I’m able to live down here is insane. It doesn’t get better, anywhere. Playing in the U.S., having these opportunities with people like Jimmy Butler and Charles Barkley, having way more nationally-televised games, competing for the Stanley Cup, that’s made not only myself but everyone on the team more of a name than we were before. 

Have you become a boat guy since moving to Florida?

I have not. I’ve gotten as far as a few jet skis. I’m not a boat guy. I like to go on boats, but I don’t want to drive a boat. No chance I could park it. 

Quotes from an interview Matthew did before the playoff final started Via gq.com

Photo taken during the All Star Weekend via floridahockeynow.com

#matthew tkachuk #florida panthers #nhl playoffs #throwback #Matthew living his best life #but not a boat guy

[crmsnmth]

September Sky Chapter Seven, Part 3

"Four, or right around there. We could probably even go now." Chad replied. I looked at my phone. It was three after all.

"Fuck it, why not? I could use a different kind of drink," I said, slamming down the rest of my lukewarm cappuccino.

Both of us stood up and stretched. After throwing our cups into the trash, we headed the short walk back to my apartment. His car was parked there, and it was just easier to walk then try to find parking on a Saturday afternoon.

It had rained most of the morning, but the sun ended up winning, and now the day was now humid and rising in temperature. Even though the walk was so short, both Chad and I were sweating. There was no need to go inside. I already had all my stuff. So, we just hopped into Chad's car.

After blasting us both with 'Starfuckers, Inc' by Nine Inch Nails, Chad turned the volume down and pulled out into the road. It seemed every vehicle I got into was having the volume problem.

"Do you have any idea how to get to this place?" Chad asked me. I guess I had more of a chance of knowing it then he did, but still. He knew me. There was no way in hell I'd know where some bar in Walker's Point was. I am not mister direction. I don't drive.

"I have no fucking idea. I thought you did. I can get us to Walker's Point but I don't know the neighborhood." I asked, readjusting the passenger's seat back to how I always had it. When I lived in Oconomowoc, I was in this car probably just as much as Chad. It was a running joke in our circle of friends that I could tell exactly who had sat in the passenger seat. It was my seat, and I rarely got it wrong.

"I have an address."

"What is it?"

"Uh, Seven Zero Zero South Second Street."

"Yeah, I have no idea." I don't know why I asked for an address. I barely knew my own, other than the street. "Call Alana. I'm sure she could walk you to it better than me."

"Good point." He pulled his cellphone and put it to his ear. A few moments later, he set it back in the center console. It seemed she hadn't answered and it was our time to figure out how to get to this place. Neither of us knew where the hell we were going, and neither of us were smart enough to go get directions. We weren't that far away from my home yet. I had the internet. At least we were in the neighborhood now. We were bound to run into as long as we paid attention.

Instead, we were supposed to meet up at four. Alana and her friend called us at 5:30 as we were still struggling. And both of us were frustrated. But even with us being frustrated and still being stupid, we were still laughing and enjoying the trip. Frank Turner once said "if you're all about the destination, than take a fucking flight."

Finally, we got lucky and found ourselves right outside of the bar. It's windowed wall looking out onto the street. A small handful of people stood around the door, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of plastic cups. Across the street was some kind of nightclub. On the street outside, we could hear punk music pumping out of the bar. We parked the car in the first spot we found, hoping and praying that it wouldn't end up being an impound spot. Chad had never had the best luck with his car in Milwaukee, getting a ticket almost every single time he came. He used to tell me Milwaukee wouldn't be that awful of a city if it wasn't for the absolute serious problem with parking. I guess I never paid much attention to it.

Our spot was about a block away and the walk was spent smoking cigarettes and still catching up with what was new and joking about what was old.

We entered the bar up a small staircase and into a packed hall for music and a crowd. The walls, where there wasn't windows, were covered with tons of old rock and punk posters and other memorabilia. Tables were scattered all over the floor. Most of them were already filled with groups of people. The bar wasn't any better, almost every stool was full. I scanned the place, looking for Alana but realized that I would have no idea what she looked like anymore. It had been quite a long time. Enough for people to change.

#Fiction tags #fiction #artists on tumblr #writing #my writing #spilled words #writers on tumblr #poets and writers #writeblr #creative writing #writerscommunity #writerscorner #writer #lierature #cynical #cynic #free verse #free form #Stories #autobiographical fiction #art #literure #howispentmysummervacation #september sky

[kennyomegasweave]

8 Shows to Get to Know Me

The rules seem pretty simple, just to list 8 shows to get to know me. Some people have explanations and some don't so we'll see.

I was tagged by @negrowhat.

Teen Wolf (2011-2016, 2023) Okay, I'm not necessarily proud of this one, but it was my favorite show when it was on for it's five seasons and I unironically loved the movie this year. Did it have LOTS of problems? Yes. Do I care? No. Scott McCall is one of my favorite characters of all time. Derek Hale was a flop his entire life and I loved him for it. I legit have two arrow tattoos cause of this show dammit, lol.

Shameless (2011-2021) I'm ghetto white trash. I come from two lines of Slavs and American poor. I will always love it. Was it outlandish? Yeah. Did it show some real ass shit? Yeah. Did I cry at it more than once? Yeah. Did Ian and Mickey getting married heal my heart? No, but it was very nice to see. I legit live in my childhood home on the southside. I am a gay with bipolar. I am technically on probation right now. I don't think I need to say anymore.

OZ (1997-2003) I started watching this show way too young. It was the most ridiculous, dramatic, ain't shit, had no business show. And yet I still own the DVDs and made my best friend start watching it. She's mad as hell at it, but she agreed to watch it knowing she would be mad as hell. And she's now the one being like "fuck we can watch another season, I hate this fuckass show but I want to watch." A win is a win.

Generation Kill (2008) Yes, the American military complex is bad af. But this show is funny as fuck. It didn't hesitate to show these dudes are just regular ass dudes. There was no hero worship. My bestie and I still quote it to each other all the time. Plus the HBO War fandom was amazing back in the day. So many good edits and fics.

Queer As Folk (2000-2005) Okay this show did not hold up well at all. What with the, you know, main relationship that we all loved and rooted for being Brian (29) and Justin (17). But we didn't have anything else back then okay! I still love this show, but maturing is watching it and realizing Ben and Michael were the best couple, Melanie was never wrong and should have left Lindsay, Lindsay was bisexual and needed therapy to stop being dickmatized by her gay best friend she never got to sleep with because he's a gay man, Justin also needed therapy for so many reasons like so many, and Brian needed to like just stop just stop in general.  Also, it legit took 5 YEARS and Justin also almost being killed for Brian to say "I love you" and we all just celebrated that like it was the greatest thing despite it taking FIVE YEARS. Again, it was all we had. But I still love how it showed gay people having sex and enjoying it and not really much shame or whatever. And the "admit the truth, you love him" speech is something I STILL quote for my ships to this day. Like it was very "we're here, we're queer, get used to it" and that was AMAZING for 14 year old baby gay Clyde.

South Park (1997-Present) It's ain't shit to it's core. It's hilarious. It's still my humor. I've been watching since season 7. Sometimes I don't agree with the takes, but lots of times I do. And when it's not even trying to have a take it's just straight funny. When I'm in a low cycle, I put it on and can at least get some laughs, which is hard to do when I can't even get myself to shower and leave my house.

South of Nowhere (2005-2008) Okay. Listen. I'm a gay lady. I wasn’t really coming to terms with it in my teens, despite having a whole ass friend I was having sex with despite being like THIS MEANS NOTHING THIS IS NORMAL IT'S NORMAL TO GET NAKED WITH YOUR HOMIE RIGHT and then she moved and I gay panicked and didn't return her calls ever and ignored her on myspace, then this show came out and I was like ...oh. Oh I see. So yeah. The N had a show about a teenage lesbian realizing she was a lesbian cause she fell in love with her out bisexual friend. And then they had a relationship! And they stayed in it! And like they had sex and it was normal and fine and just yeah. This show meant a lot to me.

TharnType (2019-2021) Honestly I haven't had this show for very long personally but it is one of my favorites. I've watched it twice in less than a year. It's a hot ass mess. It's perfect. It's problematic and toxic and everything I love. Type is on that "I can hit my bitch" gay energy from back in the late-00s, which is bad don't get me wrong, but it's so delicious to watch because he's just so small, angry, and hopelessly in love. He really got the D one time ONE TIME and stayed gagging for it for the REST OF HIS LIFE. That is amazing. That is art. If you can't see how that's not the greatest thing you've ever seen, I'm sorry I can't help you. Techno remains my favorite friend in all of the BL shows I've watched now because everything he did, EVERYTHING, was gold. Lhong was BATSHIT INSANE and it was the greatest thing I've ever witnessed. My bestie has ZERO interest in any of my "gay Thai shows" but she has said she will watch this one with me because "it sounds ridiculous and it's just gonna make me mad, but you already have me watching OZ and that makes me mad so let's do it." Plus it's got "her boy" Mew. It's amazing. I'm making my straight bestie watch it and I am already so ready to watch her watch this show. I even liked the sequel. Type and Techno were really out here like IS HE CHEATING ON YOU WITH THIS GIRL like Tharn was not a whole ass homosexual who already had the convo back in college about trying pussy once and going ew. He really put on a fire fit to scare off a woman claiming his GAY man. Amazing. How could anyone hate this show. I don't understand. lol

Tagging: @whitehinagiku, @maibpenrai, @yourrescuemission, @ohnegroplease

#about me #this was way harder than I thought it would be #I'm not like proud of all these shows #but they all explain why I am the way I am lol

[pikaflute]

☕️ adult animation in general :}

i really feel like adult animation, as a whole, is an aspect of animation so overlooked by people online because they have mushed peas for brains. do not get me wrong, there's a lot to criticize/is bad, but thinking that the only "good adult stories" lie in animation geared towards kids is stupid and really doesn't highlight the stories adult animation does tell. like if animation is for all ages, why the hell do people only recommend shows and movies clearly aimed at an audience made for children. "oh but(x) is for all ages" i don't think i have to tell you why the talking cat movie and the Australian show that airs on a kids channel may be aimed towards a certain demographic.

a main criticism of adult cartoons is that they rely on sex, drugs, and cursing jokes. now i could point out that people laugh when that jokes are animation for tweens but whatever. all i'm gonna say is, so? adults do those things, obviously they're gonna joke about it. (also people loveeee saying smiling friends and hazbin are so different than adult animation despite BOTH shows using this humor. hell, while not a western animated cartoon, panty and stocking's humor is like this and no one shits on it.) and when adult animated shows aren't focused on humor (LIKE PEOPLE WANT THEM TO BE) people complain About them being too depressing or miserable to watch (DESPITE THEM WATCHING SHIT LIKE THE OWL HOUSE WHICH PEOPLE PRAISE FOR IT'S DARK STORYTELLING). basically no matter what genre it is, I feel like adult animation can't win.

people always point out the artstyle too which again really isn't a problem. there's a lot of beautiful adult animated cartoons and ones that are really stylized, but everyone ignores them to make fun of the family guy ripoff that will get canned in two minutes. and that's really the biggest problem yeah? the family guy ripoffs are what people judge literally the entire landscape of adult animation by. despite there being really good stuff out there, it's judged by the few that suck dick and balls. people used to do with kids' animation and now people complain about how the whole genre must suck. and then when people recommend shows that are good they get all mad and go "well there's only a few that are good!" or "well...that's comedy based so it doesn't count" LIKE AT LEAST GIVE IT A CHANCE!!!!

AND. AND!! it seems like even the industry is stacked against adult animated projects. netflix cancelling qforce, tuca and bertie, and inside job for one, but also adult swim's "put eggs in one basket" strat they have with rnm. it seems like adult swim only (for many years at least) cared about rnm and it seems they didn't put as much effort in promoting the other show on the network. adult swim being one oif the only (besides like fox) that host adult animation kinda sucks but a lot of these stories that people create don't seem to reach their full potential because networks are scumbags. adult swim has built a good will reputation with most of it's fans (i say most because [looks at paper shredder]) by being cool and hip with what their audience likes but at the end of the day they are a network. and they act like any other scumbag network. see their desire to just cancel shows: moral orel and venture bros for instance. and well. you know. [looks at a paper shredder] or adult swim refusing to pay carey means (the voice of frylock) residuals. in other news there's a new season of aqua teen coming soon.

the only adult cartoons people talk about are the really popular ones or the ones that suck. from my experience (see: college campus in nj) the only adult cartoons people discuss are rick and morty and south park. which is like UGH. Ive seen people in archer shirts though, but it's mainly those two, which sucks because i feel like there's much to choose from. and on the other hand people love to talk about the ones that suck. despite everyone saying they weren't going to watch velma they did. they hatewatched it. and they gave it attention social media. "but it was all negative" king, that's still attention, do not act surprised when they green light this for season 2. you hatewatch the bad shows and then act surprise when good shows that you don't watch at all get canned but the bad ones do. curious!

conclusion: i think if you want to say animation is for all ages you gotta watch adult animation! yes! it's not going to be what you want sometimes, it might be a bad artstyle, or have dumb humor, but you gotta go out of your comfort zone sometimes! ask people for recommendations online and i am sure you'll fine something for you. and most importantly STOP MAKING TWEETS AND POSTS DISPARAGING ADULT ANIMATION. YOU'LL NEVER APPRECIATE THE MEDIUM FULLY IF YOU KEEP SHITTING ON WHAT IT HAS TO OFFER!!

second conclusion: i don't care how good arcane is i'm not watching a league of legends show.

third conclusion: stop recommending bluey as a show for adult it is literally for preschoolers. i know you'll say it's good and i'm sure it is, but if you think bluey is the best show for adults right now you literally have mushed peas for your brain. go see a doctor.

fourth conclusion: also metaloclaypse sucks dick. don't watch that

#sorry. i talk a lot.

[vermillioncrown]

i just reread the dbd loveshack tag, and with the ot3 posts and more recent zl/zyx ones, i can’t wait for the four of them to meet all at once, it’ll be wild flailing on all sides for different reasons the rest can’t interpret or vocalize. like, lwj horny gripping for wwx and his unrequited friendship with zyx, and possible jealousy with zl and zyx’s “friendship”. wwx being his disaster self for his two totally-not-crushes crushes and this random interloper. zl annoyed with how touchy wwx is with zyx, plus lwj’s emotional repression. then there’s zyx who has to deal with ALL THREE of them, but completely misses the romantic/jealous/whatever the hell, undertones of the whole thing is just super entertaining for me. bonus points for shuangfeng commentary

my favorite type of mess: one thing happening with ten million different povs/interpretations

it's a bit tricky bc it depends on when they meet again. i think i hinted that there will be zl in the north or somehow the north visits the south, but both situations are post-ssc. you can imagine how charged those interactions will be in a vacuum - adding on the spice of political tensions and blah blah will uh. yeah.

lwj: on wwx: yes on horny gripping, that hasn't changed. contention due to possible demonic cultivation pending. on zyx: his friendship w zyx will get deeper, and more entangled due to zyx's developing intimacy w wwx (<- not in an exclusively romantic sense). aka more Emotions and ascribed deep meanings to every little thing. on zl: and you know how lwj fucking drinks that jc haterade, esp with how he treats wwx? he will be sipping a different flavor of haterade when he sees zl again, esp given that the two didn't make the best first impressions on each other.

wwx: on lwj: lwj is someone he admires, and it's complicated depending on the events within the ssc. this crush is one he still doesn't realize. on zyx: crush is realized. oh fucking no, but he can't help himself. + the events that i have planned during the ssc and between these two, it's also a minefield for wwx. on zl: wow, this upstanding, talented, serious guy that he met before is here! of course he's zyx's martial sibling ('wow my exceptional crush would have exceptional peers'). esp with the issue of the wen afterwards, knowing that zl essentially helped wq and wn's family without self-benefit is admirable. oh. huh. he's... he's a prickly guy, but wwx deals with prickly people all the time :)

zl: on lwj: how did he get worse on wwx: lol it's that funny, rude little guy - *sees wwx full clowning to get zyx's attention* >:| and then noticing whatever wwx's deal is with lwj post-war, how did he also get worse??? on zyx: kinda redacted because there's a thing that will happen in the next few chapters. but at this point he takes more of zyx's actions in good faith, even if the squirrely nature of them tire him out. and the fact that zyx's still interacting with these northern idiots makes him 'they are hopeless. it shouldn't be our problem. let's go home now'

zyx: 'i don't fucking want to be here, and you guys are making it worse. just behave you motherfuckers'

'oh what, they've all met? lol that's between them and the tudi-shen where they have a fistfight' <- still thinks they aren't part of all of this (bc who goes around thinking people have a crush on them?)

(people with better self-esteem and romantic awareness ig)

'no. how... my neural network was... it was wrong...' despair upon realizing that the shuangfeng betting pool was right, and it fucks them up that they don't even know where to begin calibrating their zl behavioral model

=

bonus:

depending on other relationships that could potentially win out late-ssc

all i'm gonna say is imagine zyx thinking they could park zl next to lxc during a discussion conference. 'lxc, for as much as he mortifies me, is a stand-up guy. we've worked things out during the war. zl should like him'

and the tension that ends up between lxc and zl is thicc af

and then zyx erroneously assumes 'oh wow is this a crush? do they like each other??? that's a lotta manly tension imma leave'

#inquiry #Anonymous #on dbd #dbd love shack #^the bonus scene was from old old old obsolete writings of draft dbd #back when there was a definitive lxc endgame #AGAIN DO NOT TAKE ANY OF THESE AS A CONFIRMATION OF ANYTHING #i get fussy about it bc how i'm writing isn't like... #like i want a funny plot and i'll make the characters do it #i'm trying to make things make sense from each character's eyes #which is a perspective that naturally comes about when you start with an si #or maybe writing a realistic si lol idk #ugh i have a lot to say and i can't say it right now because things aren't written yet #i don't wanna promise things or spoil other things #sigh i guess the funniest thought is i know what kind of person i am #and zyx will not know/accept a romantic intent unless it is said plainly #billboard in the skyline #a declaration such that they can't misunderstand or be oblivious to it #but simultaneously they hate overt and overly public gestures and indiscretions of the romantic kind #so to have love they must fucking die of public embarrassment no matter what #today verm bf tried to say something cute #bc we jokingly call making coffee 'making potions' now #he called it a 'love potion' and hugged me #you know what my reflex was? #it was to bite him as hard as possible and thrash out of his hold #like a rabid beast #100% not built for gooiness #so to keep with an honest representation all romantic entanglement and its possibilities won't be the same type of drama as typical romance #but it will still be fucking stupid and hopefully entertaining

[presidential--suite]

✨ Top Five Treys ✨

#5: Theater Talk (2011)

(Series with @a-magical-evening 💖)

Ramblings about this appearance: 

A through line I’ve found when listening to so many interviews is that Trey really loves to comment on how the subject of his work enjoys his work. Catholics like Anne enjoyed this commentary, Mormons say “hey it’s Orgazmo!”, people stop us on the street and say this, we’ve met people who say that, etc. I think that illustrates his actual care for the subjects, which he’s expressed before. These examples are used as like a ‘hey, we’re not out here just writing shit to make people mad, they like this stuff, you or the specific guy we’re making fun of are probably the problem’. I can understand the notion of hating when others are offended on someone else’s behalf. That goes into his whole notion of hating self-righteous, elitist people, or even liberalism, in that some people feel the need to speak up and in turn speak over people.

I like how clearly he is fascinated with Mormonism, and history, and his home, and musical theater. He has real passion for things, and I admire the way he can take these concepts and interests he has and funnel them into creative projects. You can see the steppingstones from Cannibal, to Orgazmo, to BOM, and how they all incorporate the culture and history surrounding the place he grew up, especially South Park.

I think watching this interview could clear up a lot of accusations that M&T don’t give a fuck about anything and just enjoy the nihilism of making fun of people. Both of them show this respect and fascination with religion. They speak so carefully and softly about it lol.

That’s so great that they met Bobby and all of them were like hell yeah Mormon musical!! I also like how they went to see Avenue Q together and the idea that Trey’s always dragging Matt to musicals until he’s like okay I’m into it now, let’s win all the Tonys lol. It also makes the Broadway Brodown episode of SP funnier, with the idea that: if the person who doesn’t want to see a musical goes and sees a musical for the person who does, they should get rewarded with a blowjob...Like, Trey we know you’re the theater queen who cries at Le Mis, you can’t claim Randy as your self-insert here...so what part of the equation is he??

Matt smiling at Trey is the cutest fucking thing, stoppp

Rare occurrence of Trey back tracking with the statement that they liked every Mormon they met and they’re so likable, and then he’s like ‘wait!! There are probably bad ones!! I know!!’

Trey calling BOM his baby 😢

“Have they ever not jumped to their feet?” “BASEketball.” Lmao

That letter from Steven Sondheim really touched Trey, that’s so sweet. He framed it too.

“You guys always come as kind of a matched set, do you do anything independent of each other?” “No.” 😇

Anyway, on a superficial note: he looked so hot here honestly. I hate a man in jeans, but they look good on him tbh... Very clean look, his eyes are very striking, and the stubble is such a good look that I love. I like this era of him still keeping a little length to his hair, where it curls up a bit, very cute. Ugh, he’s just so pretty, so gorgeous. Love him. Love all his gesticulating and when he smiles. He’s so fine. 💖💖💖

#Top 5 Treys #is my tag for this #trey parker #💖 you know this one made it #💖💖💖 #trey

[bow-chicka-wow-wow-wow]

10 Favorite Family Guy Episodes

Again, like the South Park list, it’s not in any particular order. Also, it is kinda hard to pick 10, since there are over 400 episodes as of making this list! The newer seasons have a bunch of stinkers, so it’s a little easier this time around, but not by that much.

1. Road To The Multiverse - Most “Road To” episodes are pretty good, but this one really blows the others away. We’re taken on a trip through many of the infinite universes, including a Robot Chicken universe, and even a Disney universe. And who can forget “It’s A Wonderful Day For Pie?”

2. Da Boom - Who remembers the Y2K panic? The Griffins were apparently the only ones that were prepared for the nuclear apocalypse. But Peter establishes his own community and it goes surprisingly well until Stewie’s mutant octopus babies destroy the town. This also marks the debut of the longest running gag in the show: Peter and Ernie’s Chicken Fights. Seth MacFarlane even said his favorite moment was from this episode, when Peter feeds his TV beans when he sees Tom Selleck!

3. Yug Ylimaf - When Brian meddles with Stewie’s time machine to get laid, he accidentally causes time to reverse! We see Family Guy’s most infamous moments played out in reverse, such as Peter falling down the stairs, one of Cleveland’s “No no no!” moments, and the infamous ipecac puking contest! Needless to say, this was something Stewie’s and Brian did not want to go through again, but in reverse it’d be much more gross!

4. Family Guy Viewer Mail - I love a good ol’ What If/anthology episode! From the start of the show, Family Guy was given suggestions from the fans on episode ideas, and there were two episodes in the series that have answered some suggestions. They show Peter and the guys as the Little Rascals, the Griffins having superpowers, Peter having no bones, everything Peter touches turning into Robin Williams, British Family Guy, and everything being shown from Stewie’s point of view. These make for some hilarious moments in the show.

5. Hell Comes To Quahog - This episode has a similar concept to South Park’s “Something Wall-Mart This Way Comes.” A mega-store similar to Walmart and K-Mart, Superstore USA, opens in Quahog and takes away everyone’s jobs. Peter and Chris both lose their jobs due to Superstore USA having a brewery and paper route respectively. Also, the Superstore takes away everyone’s electricity to meet its power demands. Needless to say, as soon as the Superstore was destroyed, everything was back to normal. Also, who can forget “‘Meg!’ ‘*pbft*’”?

6. Pet****d - I’m not even gonna say the title. Peter is a moron. I think that’s already been established since the beginning of the show. But he wins a game of Trivial Pursuit thanks to Lois giving him the preschool questions. Of course, that makes him believe he is actually a genius. When Brian has Peter take an IQ test for the MacArthur Fellows Grant, the latter is shocked when the test results reveal that not only is he not a genius, but he is mentally challenged. Yeah, this episode aired in 2005, so some much more outdated language was used. Of course Peter uses this as an excuse to do what he wants, thinking he could get away with it, but this costs him his children after he accidentally spills hot grease on Lois. My favorite part is when Brian profanely tells Peter “I told you so” about not being a genius, but, YEAH!! IN YOUR FUCKING FACE, FUCKWAD!

7. E. Peterbus Unum - Can’t Touch Me! Instant classic. In this episode, after not being able to get a pool, Peter finds his property isn’t part of the US. Naturally, this prompts Peter to declare his house its own country named Petoria. And in classic Family Guy fashion, this goes about as well as one would expect. After being under siege from the US Army, Peter “invades” the US by breaking into his next door neighbor Joe’s yard, earning him the respect from the rest of the United Nations.

8. Back To The Pilot - Family Guy has been on the air since 1999, save for two cancellations, with the last of which lasting for 2 and a half years! Needless to say, the show has visually come a long way the past 24 years! In season 10, Brian and Stewie travel back in time to January 31, 1999, when the pilot episode “Death Has A Shadow” first aired. The world’s visuals were primitive, Meg was voiced by Lacey Chabert, Peter and the guys were watching a television set that’s not even plugged in, Stewie’s got a more diabolical genius vocabulary, Peter’s eye goes over his nose due to an animation error, everyone just sits there doing nothing during a cutaway, and the aspect ratio is in 4:3. Brian informs his past self about the biggest tragedy in America, which hails him as a hero, but causes Civil War II, and eventually a post-apocalyptic CGI future with Joe being a Terminator. Of course, Stewie and Brian have to go back and fix everything by showing up right before their counterparts do, erasing their timeline in the process.

9. Death Is A Bitch - Death pays Peter a visit. No, he literally pays him a visit! After Death sprains his ankle, the Griffins have to nurse him back to health. Of course, with Death incapacitated, no one can die, and Peter, being the idiot he is, drunkenly blabs it to everyone. Death then forced Peter to do his job for him, since the natural order of things has been disrupted with no one being able to die. Also, Stewie just can’t wait till Death gets better, as his attempt on Lois’s life has failed due to Death not lurking in the shadows. This marks the first appearance of Death as a recurring character, and the only time he was voiced by the late Norm Macdonald, whom I liked better than Adam Corolla voicing him in subsequent appearances.

10. I Dream Of Jesus - A WELL A BIRD BIRD BIRD, THE BIRD IS THE WORD! Ok, got that out of my system. Peter’s favorite song, “Surfin’ Bird,” annoys the hell out of everyone, prompting Stewie and Brian to steal it and destroy in a shot by shot remake of the printer scene from Office Space. This causes Peter to find Jesus. Literally find Jesus working at a record store when looking for copies of “Surfin’ Bird” to replace the one that was stolen. Of course, Peter reveals Jesus to the world, causing Jesus to reach celebrity status overnight. Of course the Hollywood fame gets to Jesus’ head, as he acts like a diva towards Peter. To say that many Christians did not take too kindly to this portrayal of the Messiah would be an understatement, but at least it wasn’t as bad as the way he’s depicted in a much later episode…

#familyguy

[thelovelybitten]

vera’s first watch of south park — season three (part 1)

I’m on a roll rn, I’m also sick so it’s binge time.

EPISODE 1:

Jennifer ANISTON ??? Big slay on her part

Oh LORD KENNY IS WHIPPED FOR THIS CUTE BLONDE GIRL

CRAIG !!!! FINALLY HIS FIRST APPEARANCE!!

Craig: *flips people off* an icon fr

He’s a cute kid aw <3 ily Craig

Kenny: WOOOOOOO

KELLY she’s so cute

KENNY maybe u need to not muffle babe (but at the same time, it’s his staple)

Kenny lying to Kelly abt being poor NO

YO THIS FUCKING POPPED OFF

THE BOYS ATE THE CHOREO (maybe except Kyle lol)

Nah bc Kelly ate her solo

“AAH, SNAKE” nah dude, it’s just a branch

“AAH, SNAKE” no, that’s the same branch again

SO FUNNY I LOVE STYLE

Note: stan is scared of snakes

Kelly so true, but pls get with Kenny for comedic relief and happiness for him bc he gets brutally murdered every ep pls and thank u

KYLE RLY FUMBLED THE BAG WITH THIS CHOREO LOL

Kenny SAVING KELLY so cute of him

Kelly in her mixed emotions state of mind

Kenny being done with this shit

Are they rly gonna die

Kenny and Kelly are so cute what

Stan & Kyle say their iconic line and Kelly is like? ARE U PEOPLE STUPID ??? HELP HIM and resurrects him before the ep ends

ANYWAYS SO CUTE

EPISODE 2:

What the— Kenny is dead already ? Y’all weird

KENNY IS DATING KELLY HOW CUTE <3

Randy: :| I’m a geologist

Wait omg i now know what Kyle is looking for… ARE U FR

That’s so awks for him and for me

“Resurrection” KYLE UR BRAIN IS ON ONE BRAIN CELL

“Screw u guys, I’m going home.”

Wait cartman do be Jesus on the cross THEY ACTUALLY LEFT HIM THERE FNDNJSDJVJKSJ

“GET ME DOWN FROM NYAH” sjbjkdsbjgbk he’s got so many good lines

RANDY MARSH DAY kinda epic

Whoopi ???!??@@?@

Randy eating left and right very slay

Kyle… honey….

It’s hot out, and stan & Kyle are still in their winter wear

“Uhh… it sucks ass.” - Stan

Gerald: unbothered

^^ and flabbergasted

Pog champ randy marsh

CARTMAN LMAO he’s got that skinny bod babe

EPISODE 3:

OH LORD I WAS LITERALLY AT THE OPTOMETRIST LAST WEEK AND GOT MY EYS DILATED AND I LOOKED LIKE MY CAT WHEN THEY WANNA POUNCE ON SUMTH

All the homies hate that chef is gone

The core four: ?!?!?!?!? Not this bitch dating our councillor from the cafeteria LMAO

I have a stigmatism too cartman <3

The core four (again): >:OOOOO

“But MEEM”

Damn cartman’s eyes are fucked

“AAAA IT’S THE SUCCUBUS” — Eric

HOLY SHIT THAT SCARED THE FUCK OUTTA ME

*muffles explanation of how to kill a succubus*

Jesus CHRIST

CHEF IS BACK <3

EPISODE 4:

Harmonica ate

Okay not Kenny slander >:(

What the fresh hell is this

AYO why garrison sleeping w pigeons >:(

Eric…. LMAO

This ep is boring tbh

OH MY LORD WTF

That was v gross

Chaos

Kenny ate the costume

Yeah no this one was BORING

EPISODE 5:

Craig… unbothered king

KENNY ATE IN HOME EC

Wendy wanted shop class >:( the gender roles

Omg creek crumbs

Damn they wanna start beef with tweek and craig very devious of them

Everyone betting on who’s gonna win

Craig… i love you so

“Red racer is on.” “Craig, you can watch Red Racer any day of the week” “I DO WATCH RED RACER EVERY DAY OF THE WEEK.” Get him Craig , ain’t no one getting between u and ur show babe

*slams door* so iconic of him

Oh but when IT’S ABOUT STRIPE THE GUINEA PIG, IT’S WAR

Stripe >>>>>>>>> anything else

Poor tweek omg :’( he’s having issues

LMAO EVERYONE IN CRAIG’S FAMILY FLIPS EACH OTHER OFF HAHAHAH

Core four fights each other aww they family fr <3

Are tweek and craig really gonna fight??

Wendy gaslighting and helping stan as she should

Tweek and Craig tapping each other :’) so cute

Tweek ate that boxing

CARTMAN LMAO

Craig… cartman ain’t SHIT

HEYO GET OFF KENNY HE’S DOING WELL :’(

Kenny’s got trauma :’( don’t force him to do that wtf

JESUS THIS FIGHT GONNA BE WHACK

LET’S GO THE BOYS ARE FIGHTING

Style gaslighting creek

I had my eyes closed for Kenny’s death i have trauma

Omg THEIR GASLIGHTING IS TOO MUCH LMAO

I loved this one, made up for the last ep

EPISODE 6:

AYE…ERIC

Wtf is this panda…

This one is a big trigger so bear with me, commentary might be short

Excuse me???

DON’T COME FOR MY SON STAN

FUCK OFF CARTMAN

EXFUCKING SCUSE ME??? This is BULLSHIT

I hate the stan slander

Note: stan has asthma

Victoria??? WHAT THE HELL

I HATE THIS PANDA.

Jesus

Clyde and Bebe wanting to sue someone… I’ll take my Clyde/Bebe crumbs

NO NOT THE BOARD SCRATCH YUCK

Omg Clyde and Bebe ate

Kyle’s dad is yassified purr

CRAIG I KNOW U AIN’T COMING FOR MY DAUGHTER— UR STAN CARD IS REVOKED FOR THE TIME BEING, DON’T TOUCH MY GIRL WENDY

EVERYONE side eyeing KYLE'S DAD

#faves: south park #so i wrote this reaction abt a month ago so i’m posting it now as my drafts are getting full… #i’m abt to start season 5 so i gotta post all my shit abt south park #viv watches #creek fight iktr #anyways gotta power post so sorz for spam

[aquaburst3]

I was watching an astrology reading on Mark Zuckerberg on TikTok, which I found interesting. Then, she said to go check out her podcast on her thoughts on the whole. (Why she couldn't add a shorter version of that on TikTok is beyond me. But whatever.)

The TLDR for anyone who doesn't want to hear a meandering lecture for the length of a Renaissance Era Disney movie that TikTok most likely won't get banned, but it will face an uphill battle to stay around. Saturn is in Aquarius until the summer before it retreats back into Capricorn and then pops out again into the same sign as before, but for several years. Pluto is already in that sign where it will stay for the next couple decades. Aquarius is the sign of technology, communication and innovation, which will greatly benefit TikTok. That alone will make it pull through in the end.

For me personally? I think a more likely scenario is that ByteDance will be forced into the hands of an American company like the Angry Orange tried to do before, and win over a shit ton of support for it. People aren't stupid. A lot of people have read the bill they are proposing and know what this is really all about. Gen Z isn't gonna take this lying down and put up a major fight, which the government will most likely cave into. Plus, the Democrats know that Gen Z was a huge component of keeping back the "Red Wave" during midterms. Banning a popular social media app, especially right before an election year, would make them lose a lot of support, which they cannot afford right now. They would most likely find a way to keep it around, but look like the heroes like in a South Park episode.

As for ol' Marky, she thinks this is gonna backfire BIG TIME on him, predicting that FaceBook and Instagram are gonna most likely slowly die off within the next few years. I also agree not just astrological wise, but intuitively. Facebook is already known as the "old person app" by anyone under the age of 50 in western countries, and Instagram is starting to gain that reputation. It's only a matter of time before they go in the way of MySpace. Social media apps don't last forever. This hoopla is gonna make Mark Zuckerberg like a cartoon supervillain, and what's happening to him astrologically is gonna fuel his own demise. Hell, I see Shou Chew winning over the respect of the American public for staying professional and level headed in the face of dinosaurs yelling racist insults at him. There are already thirst trap videos for him on TikTok. It's only a matter of time for that to leak out onto other platform. (As a side note, holy fuck Shou Chew's hot.)

So, yeah. That podcast put my mind at ease a bit. Uphill battle, but we'll come through at the end. We just need to fight for this.

#aqua rambles

[maki-matsurra]

could you do a romantic x reader oneshot on Eric Cartman ❤ From- South Park (Where Cartman falls head over heels for the new girl (the reader 👩) and plans to win her heart by getting advice from Wendy. After making new friends (Kenny, Stan, Kyle, Wendy, Butters, Token, and a few Raisins girls) the reader starts to spend a lot of time with cartman (after he flirts with her a bit) when he invites her to do things with him like: going to the movies, casa bonita's for lunch, playing video games at his house, the reader started to develop feelings for cartman when he invited her to go to the Valentine's day dance with him where they danced and shared their first kiss)!

(The reader is from Lynchburg, va who moves to Colorado with her family (her mother, stepfather, and her 3 sisters) the reader loves kickboxing, loves to read, her favorite show is Aqua Teen hunger Force, her favorite color is blue, her dream is being a fashion designer, she's a vegetarian, and she loves cinnabons)

(the request takes place where all the elementary kids are teenagers)

Wow! This is a lot to take in for a request! And I will be honest, it was a doozy to write as well! 😂

It’s been a while since I wrote anything South Park, and it’s pretty hard to portray Eric Cartman as… well… nice in writing, but I hope you enjoy! I gave it my best shot!

Want to send in a request? Start Here!

⚠️TW: This is South Park so; Intensive Swearing⚠️

“So we’re still on for tonight guys, right? Old mill?”

"I'll try and sneak away." Kyle smiled at his best friend, putting his textbooks in his locker.

"I'll totally be there! I got some new beer you guys GOT to try! What about you, Cartman?" Kenny turned to him, making him scoff. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be there..."

His speech slowed to a stop as he looked afar, seeing a girl wearing a blue sweater, talking to Craig and Tweek, laughing. The other three boys glanced at each other before Kyle glared at Cartman.

"Oh no, no, no, no! This is not turning into a new 'Heidi' situation!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You like that girl~." Kenny cooed teasingly.

"Wait, he does?!" Stan looked at the pair, wide-eyed. "No! He doesn't!"

"Shut the hell up, Jew! I don't like her!" He huffed, his face completely flushed as he crossed his arms and looked away.

The trio gawked at him, shocked.

"Oh my god-"

"Holy shit-"

"What the fuck-"

"You do like her!" They exclaimed, making the big-boned teen shush them. "Shut the fuck up guys!"

"Well, what are you gonna do? Ask her out?"

"...I dunno yet..."

"You could ask her to the Valentine's Day Dance coming up." Kenny offered, making Cartman shrug. "Maybe."

"Wendy could give you advice."

"Wendy?"

"Sure. I mean, she's the expert on this, right?" This made Cartman roll his brown eyes. He hated talking to Wendy, she always seemed to be so stuck-up and such a know-it-all.

There was no way he was asking for her help.

‘Goddamn it.’

There he was, walking towards Wendy at her locker.

"Heeey Wendy..." Cartman greeted awkwardly.

"No."

"The fuck- I haven't even said anything yet-"

"I can tell by your tone that you want something." She explained before turning to him. "So, no."

She then started to walk away, but he was right by her side.

"Look, all I want is-"

"No."

"Would you just-"

"No."

"How do I ask (Y/N) to the fucking dance?!"

She paused at that, eyes wide. "(Y/N) (L/N)?"

"Yes."

"New girl (Y/N) (L/N)?"

"Yeah."

"New girl who just moved from Lynchburg (Y/N) (L/N)?"

"For fucks sake, YES!"

She hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond to this. Cartman asking a girl out to a dance? Has the world just ended? Did she hit her head?

She then just settled with a; "...Why?"

This made him pause befoe shrugging. "I dunno... I-I guess I like her-"

"Oh, whatever. You said the same thing back in elementary school with Heidi Turn-"

"Wendy! This is not elementary school and (Y/N) is not Heidi Turner! So are you gonna help me or not?!"

This made her pause once again, thinking it over and weighing her options before she sighed. "Okay, okay. I'll help you. But if this turns into another Heidi situation-"

"Jesus Christ- It won't!"

"Swear on your dad, Cartman."

"...What?" He blinked in confusion.

"Swear on your dad that his won't be another Heidi, and I'll help you."

He sighed dramatically at this, rolling his eyes before meeting her violet ones. "I swear."

Satisfied with that, she gave him a firm nod. "Alright then. Now, with a girl like her, or any girl you really care about, you got to get to know her." She explained, the pair walking down the hall.

"Okay."

"But she also has to get to know you. The real you. No egos or fake personalities or anything like that. Then, if she likes what she see's, you got a date."

This made Cartman stop in his tracks. "Wait, you're saying it all depends on her?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Wendy nodded, confirming.

"What the hell kind of advice is that?!"

"Look, I'm sorry, Cartman." She interrupted, holding her hand up before letting her textbooks rest in it once again. "If you want this girl to go to the dance with you, and really, and I mean really, like you. Then you gotta let her decide, not you."

She then turned to leave, but gave him one last glance. "Good luck, Cartman."

"Not gonna need it."

He will totally need it.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

The (h/c) girl paused her conversation with Butters at her desk to see Cartman. She smiled kindly at him. "Oh, hey! Cartman? Right?"

"I wanted to... U-Uh..." He hesitated before glaring at the blue-eyed boy. "Butters, fuck off. You and (Y/N) can continue your little talk after I'm done talking to her."

The girl raised her brows in shock as Kyle face-palmed in the background, nevertheless, Butters smiled at him. "Okay, Eric!"

As soon as he left, Cartman started again. "D-Do you want to... Ugh... Fuck it." He slammed a piece of paper on her desk, startling her a bit. "Video games. At my house. After School. Be there."

And with that, he walked back to his desk, his face completely flushed. He did peek over to see her pick up the paper with his address on it, giggling a little before tucking it away in her blue sweater pocket. His hopes rose up, hoping that was a yes.

Turns out it was! She came over and the pair decided to play Call of Duty together. Talking about all sorts of things, even sharing some laughs.

After that day, the two did almost everything together. Going to lunches, hanging out in and after class, you name it.

Everyone was just shocked on Cartman's behavior towards her. Everytime the two walked down the halls together, the others would look at him like he grew two heads. Could it be that she actually tamed him?

Then came that fateful day, the day he dared to ask (Y/N) to the Valentine's Day Dance.

He slammed the piece of paper on her desk, and like before, it startled her.

He walked back to his own desk, his face flushed in embarrasment, before he was startled by a hand slamming down on his desk. He looked up to see (Y/N), a smile on her face before turning and going back to her desk. He looked down and saw a piece of paper. The same one he slammed down on her desk.

He unfolded it.

Valentines Day Dance. 8. Ok.

He smiled at this, not waiting a second to go rub it in Kyle and Wendy's faces.

The night of the dance came, and the two were tearing it p on the dance floor. Cartman making (Y/N) laugh with his silly dance moves. She looked absolutely amazing in her short light blue dress.

"You're so stupid, Cartman." She giggled. "But that's one of the things I like about you."

He paused at that, turning to meet her gaze with a shocked look.

"You... Like me?" He asked, making her nod with a smile.

"You're not fucking around with me, are you?"

And with that, she stood on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek, pulling away with red-tinted cheeks. "What do you think?"

He only had one thing to say to answer that question.

He grabbed her by the waist,

and kissed her.

Eric Cartman kissed a girl.

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around his neck as she returned it, her (e/c) eyes fluttering shut.

Although Cartman would never say this out loud,

this was the best night of his life.

#Anon #Anon Request #matsurrawrites #South Park #Eric Cartman #One Shot #one shot request #South Park fanfic #Fanfic #eric cartman x reader #South Park x Reader

[averagejoesolomon]

We're back! Here's 5,000 words of our boys absolutely dominating the world of espionage. Should you feel so inclined, this chapter pairs well with The Boys Are Back In Town by Thin Lizzy. Do with that information what you will.

If you're new around here, welcome to Full Circle! I know this post says it is chapter one, but this story actually starts in 1978, and I recommend starting there first. You can read all of Full Circle on Ao3. Enjoy gang!

TW: Violence; Blood

Chapter One

Even at the end of winter and even as the sun sets, this part of the States is always warmer than he expects. A dry breeze crawls across desert sands, catching on every cactus in its path until it lands square on Matt’s shoulders. He’s only just begun to shake the snowy misery of a Virginian March, but most of it melts away easy in a place like this. “I’m not saying we’ve gotta make a whole day out of it.” Dust smears against his fingertips as he slams the trunk of the car shut, leaving smudged prints behind. “I’m just saying it’s been a while.”

He hands Joe a fresh magazine to slide into the nearest available pistol. It zips into place with a resolved click. “It’s three hours east,” Joe counters. “And way too far south.”

Matt’s got a clear view of the horizon just beyond the edge of the parking lot and across the nearby highway. The straight lines and clear shots remind him of home. “So we spend a night in Austin.” The last of winter’s ice rests along the edge of his own pistol as he tucks it into the small of his back, but the Texas heat wins out and soon enough, the chill subsides. “We can afford a little detour.”

Joe’s silhouette is the only thing that breaks up the scenic view. It’s a stark shadow against a backdrop of purples and pinks cast along the underside of each cloud. Streaks of sunset catch in the shoulders of his leather jacket, but the body of it swallows the colors whole. Joe’s the sole spot of blind blackness in a night full of spectacular sights. “Nothing in Texas is a little detour,” he says. “This state could eat half of Europe for breakfast. Your idea of a little detour is a four-hour drive.”

Matt tightens up a strap at his ankle, checking for the knife that hides along the seam of his boot. “A four-hour drive is a hell of a lot closer than we usually are.”

“Yeah, it’s still four hours, cowboy.” Joe’s sunglasses catch a glare from the rapidly falling sun—a sharp starburst that flashes in Matt’s eyes, then flickers away. “Y’see, this kind of thing isn’t a problem in Manhattan. The city’s got everything a guy could need in a five—”

“—five-block radius,” Matt finishes for him. “I’ve heard that one before. But we ain’t in Manhattan. We’re in Texas, and when a buddy of yours wins an election, you stop into town and you buy him a beer. That’s the rule.”

The last time Matt saw Fitz, it was two elections ago on a dry campaign trail. It’s a rare occasion that Matt gets to offer his congratulations, rather than a consolation, but it’s likely he won’t get to offer either this time around. His old friendships keep fading faster than he knows how to patch them.

“Fitz doesn’t have time for us to buy him a beer,” Joe reminds him. “And, coincidentally, we don’t have time to buy him one.”

The world’s shadow creeps across sand, inching straight toward the two of them. “What’s so urgent, Joseph?” he says with a grin. “Got a hot date?”

“Yeah, and so do you.” Joe hikes his thumb over his shoulder toward an aging building across the lot. “There’s at least five guys named Vladamir standing on the other side of those doors and we’re about to dance with all of them.”

The sun finally winks over the horizon and as the world dozes off, a nearby sign flickers awake. It stands high above the rooftop, calling out to the few daily drivers that pass it by. The grinding buzz of pink and blue neon soaks into the dry Texas heat, outlining big, white letters that read ARCADE. “Y’think they know the Electric Slide?” Matt says. “Because we could really get a party going in there if they do.”

The harsh, florescent hues settle along Joe’s skin. These colors suit him better than the sunset ever could. “We get in, we get our information, we get out,” he says, holstering his own gun on his hip. “I don’t want to be around when the Circle decides to send backup, got it?”

That’ll be the end of it. There’s no room for jokes where the Circle of Cavan is involved, so Matt doesn’t make them. He just runs through his final checks the way Rachel Cameron taught him years ago, then nods. “Yeah, alright,” he says. “Let’s boogie.”

It’s high time to fish or cut bait, as his pops would say. Without another word, the pair of them scuff up their shoes as they start towards yet another tussle on yet another night, stuffed to the seam with personalized arsenals. Joe flicks the butt of a cigarette into the rocky gravel at their feet, letting the last of the embers burn themselves into extinction. Matt pulls a pair of dark, fingerless gloves over his palms, trying to spare his knuckles of any new bruises. Each footstep kicks up a new cloud of dust at the base of their steady strides.

They ain’t quiet. They ain’t trying to be. If there’s anything they’ve learned in the past few years of off-book brawls, it’s that they’re stronger than most, faster than most, and maybe—just maybe—they’re a little bit unbeatable.

Because the truth of the matter is that Matt’s a good spy. Joe’s an even better one. They’ve each got their individual place in espionage, but it don’t hold a candle to the way they work when they’re together. Something about them just seems to snap into place, every time and without exception, in a way Matt’s never quite felt with anyone else. When they’re out in the world, only one another at their backs, the pair reach a greatness that not even the meanest agents can match.

They’re as dynamic as a duo can get. They’re more in sync than most of the artists on MTV. They’re the ‘27 Yankees playing triple-A ball and if their missions were ballgames, they’d have mercy-ruled out of the majority by now.

But Joe ain’t in the business of mercy. So these days, neither is Matt.

The door squeaks on its rusted hinges. Matt’s the first one in, because Matt’s always the first one in. One look and he’s already got the entire building figured out. It’s all flashing lights, wood-paneled walls, and carpet worn down to its roots. Hulking arcade games line every available wall, their screens screaming out for quarters, and the room’s lone jukebox has been used and overused until the buttons have been scrubbed blank. There’s an exit toward the back. A storeroom to the right. Not enough windows. The entire space is buzzing with a low and constant hum.

Joe was wrong about one thing—it’s seven guys, not five, and half of them are smoking thick, gaudy cigars that fill the room with broad ribbons of wispy white smoke. Most stand along the edge of a pool table, game in progress with cue sticks at the ready. A few others huddle around a high top, laughing and joking in a dialect that brings Matt straight back to Leningrad. One of them even entertains a game of pinball, and seems to be doing pretty well for himself. The moment he steps inside, all conversation stops and all eyes land on him.

This ought to be fun.

“Howdy, fellas,” he jeers, easily sauntering into the room as though he was invited. As through these enemy agents are his very best friends. “Nice of you to clear the place out for us.”

Absent the cover of a crowd, Matt’s second-best weapon is his Nebraskan charm. Something about his smile disarms even the toughest of agents. The tone of his voice makes even the meanest men hesitate. He wears them both with a confidence that trumps the confusion in the room. This unthreatening uncertainty only earns him a few extra seconds, but when it comes to spycraft, a few seconds is all it takes.

It only takes two seconds to march straight into the center of these Russian goons. It takes another to find a spot just beside the Skee-Ball machine and dig his heels in. Seconds four, five, and six give him just enough time to grab a single ball from the machine’s return chute and toss it once in the air, catching it again in his other hand.

But soon enough, his time is up, and there’s a gun trained on him.

Matt’s hands fly up into a surrender. He loses track of whether the gunman speaks in English or in Russian, but the general sentiment boils down to, “Who the hell are you?”

Matt glances over at Joe. There’s a second gun aimed in his direction, but Joe’s got the kind of grin that makes people nervous—like he knows more secrets than they do, and they ought not to kill him before they can find out what they are. “Easy, boys,” he says, glancing over his sunglasses. “We’re just looking for a good time.”

“That’s right,” Matt cuts in, hands still held high. “What do you say, gentlemen? Anyone up for a game of Skee-Ball?”

What happens next is quick enough that no one sees it until it’s over, and it starts with the simple toss of a ball. It starts with Matt, and his few stolen seconds, and a perfect pitch.

The weight of the ball leaves his hands, heavier than he’s used to.

It curves to hit the underside of the barrel, smacking it towards the sky.

A bullet snaps into the ceiling just a little too late, and the entire room erupts.

The sound of shots fired triggers everyone into action. Big guys with grizzly scars charge straight at him, taking swings left and right, so he takes a step back until his calf hits the hard edge of the machine. He pops up onto the height of it and kicks one, two, three of them in the chest as they come. It’s two against seven, but Matt ain’t worried. It’s two against seven, but across the room, Joe Solomon is still smiling.

One of the taller Russians collects himself enough to make a focused effort towards Matt, cue stick thrown over his shoulder and ready to swing. Matt’s old peewee coach would have a few choice words to share about this guy’s form, but something tells Matt that he ain’t looking for tips. ���I take it you’re more of a billiards guy, then?” he says, just as the guy takes a swing at him. It’s easy to dodge. “Alright, alright, all you had to do was say so, sweetpea.”

On the second swing, the heavy end of the cue stick lands straight against Matt’s palms, slapping against the leather of his gloves. It stings, but it doesn’t compare to the hurt that his dance partner is about to feel. “Do you want colors?” he says, cracking a grin. “Or stripes?”

The tall Russian curses in his native language, but Matt ain’t listening. Instead, he lands the long side of the cue stick across the Russian’s chest and shoves. He shoves until the Russian loses his balance, and then he shoves some more. Matt hops back down from his place atop the Skee-Ball machine and shoves the Russian straight across the room, knocking down another attacker in the process, until they land against the edge of the pool table.

The Russian is strong, but Matt is stronger. He holds his stance with the Russian backed against the table, squirming and wrestling against Matt’s grip. Just when Matt thinks he’s winning, he spots a flicker of recognition in the Russian’s eyes, and the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

On instinct, Matt ducks.

A right hook flies over his head and lands square in the Russian’s nose. When Matt looks up, he sees another attacker with even more scars than the first, cursing over a punch that was meant for Matt.

The two squabble and bicker, which gives Matt just enough time to sweep the legs out from under the first guy. Before the second attacker even realizes what happens, Matt pops back up, wraps his hands around the guy’s neck, and flips him straight over his shoulder.

Crack. Russian Number Two lands flat on his back, splayed across the green velvet of the pool table. The wood splinters under the weight and splits the table into two, easy as a dried-up log on a cool autumn day. The guy groans, but he ain’t gonna be getting back up from that.

Dense billiards balls jump from the tabletop and squeeze out of their pockets, scattering across the stained carpet. Matt scoops up two of the striped ones just in time to feel a hand yank him upright by his shoulder.

In one swift move, he finds himself face-to-face with a shorter, stockier guy, cradling a ball in each hand. “Wasn’t aware you wanted to play too, sugar pie,” Matt says. “How about you get next round?”

They say the third time’s the charm, which is probably why this guy is able to land a solid hit, straight across Matt’s jaw. Bright, bold pain spreads up through Matt’s chin, cheek, ears, then down through his neck. A crack. A jolt. Throbbing.

Matt shakes off the strain, rounding his jaw in its socket once, twice, three times to make sure it’s straight. With the easy, strategic crack of his neck, he spits the fresh taste of blood from his mouth and sighs. “Alright,” he says. “If you insist.”

Heart pounding in his ears, Matt doesn’t hold back. He’s only playing by the same rules as the Russians when he brings the billiards balls up to each side of his attacker’s head and whacks them into each ear. This guy doesn’t fall as fast as the first two, but he’s disoriented enough that Matt can throw his knee straight into his groin. This, finally, brings him down to the knees.

Matt lays a hand on the Russian’s shoulder. “Sorry, buddy,” he says. “That’s a tough break—oh man, see that? I didn’t even mean for that one to be a pun. I just can’t help my—”

A pair of gunshots ring out over Matt’s shoulder.

The blaze of his blood suddenly runs cool. The throbbing in his jaw turns to ice. For the very first time, he imagines all of the ways that this night could go horribly and terribly wrong.

Matt’s quick to sprint towards a fight that isn’t his own, but by the time he turns around, Joe’s already knocking the pistol straight out of some guy’s hand, sending it skittering out of reach. “It’s not nice,” Joe says through a grunt, “to bring a gun to a knife fight.”

Joe ain’t a fan of patterns, but a person wouldn’t know it by the way he fights. A trained eye can spot every calculated dodge. Every expert strike. Joe does twice as much thinking with his gut than Matt could ever do with his head, and he fights like he sees the future. Matt can get himself out of any situation, sure, but Joe never makes the mistake of getting caught in a situation to begin with.

Still. Joe’s dancing with two angry Russians, both with knives aimed straight at vital organs. One of them charges and lands a lucky strike that grazes Joe across the cheek and Matt doesn’t much care for that.

So he makes an even fight of it, rushing up behind one of the attackers and grabbing them by the collar. The rigidity of the denim jacket scrunches in his hands as he pulls.

“I had him,” Joe calls out, easily stepping outside of the range of another swing.

“Sure you did,” Matt calls out. “And now I've got him.”

The man in Matt’s hands flails against the grip, swinging his knife around in an attempt to hit some sort of flesh. Matt much prefers to keep knives outside of his body, so he makes quick work out of finding a place to land. He bangs this guy’s head onto the closest available surface, shoving him face-first into a pair of bright yellow buttons, just narrowly avoiding a joystick.

The arcade machine lights up, spitting out a familiar melody that reminds him of late nights and the smell of new coins. “Oh sweet, they’ve got Galaga here!” The screen lights up his face with pale greens and bright yellows. “I’ve got the high score back home.”

Joe’s swinging fists with the raw end of a knife, but he still manages to point out, “You haven’t been home in a year.”

The guy under Matt’s hand groans, so Matt slams him into the buttons again. The machine lets out a charming pew pew in response. “So what?”

Finally, Joe’s able to knock the knife out of his attacker’s hand, grabbing hold of the wrist and twist, twist, twisting it back behind the back. He knocks the guy out with a single touch to the neck, leaving him to fall limp to the floor. “So,” Joe says, “you really think some nerd with a bag of quarters hasn’t knocked you off the board since then?”

“Nah, I’m buddies with the owner’s son.”

Joe takes off toward the last few guys. “Of course you are.”

“He says my initials are holding strong,” Matt calls out, loud above the sounds of a fight nearly at its end. “And not just on Galaga—I’ve got Frogger, too.”

“Right.” In the distance, Joe throws one guy into a claw machine, shattering the surrounding glass. It scatters and sparkles along the floor, catching every blinking light in the place. “And you’re under the impression that this makes you cooler, somehow?”

“Whatever, Wise Guy,” says Matt. “How many high scores have you got?”

Joe doesn’t respond, because Joe’s flipping another guy twice his size over his shoulder, slamming him straight across the Skee-Ball lanes. Awfully convenient timing.

“That’s what I thought,” Matt says, then offers the unsolicited advice of a champion. “The trick is to get the second shooter.”

“Uh-huh.”

Spy that he is, Matt senses that Joe may have stopped listening. He tries again. “Do you know about the second shooter?”

Joe’s perched atop a downed Russian, landing one, two, three punches to his face until they stop moving. “I can’t even begin to emphasize how much I do not care right now.”

Matt looks down at his own guy, barely conscious. “He just doesn’t understand the second shooter,” he laments. “If he knew how much easier the bonus stages were with two guns, he’d be on my side.”

Matt’s own Russian looks up at him with absolute bewilderment, so he just sighs. No one can keep up with the two of them, and these guys are no exception, so he slams his guy’s head in the Galaga machine one last time, and lets him fall to the ground.

Seven guys down. Two left standing. Just as it always is.

A quiet fills the arcade once more, interrupted only by the uncoordinated chirps of various unplayed games. They both clamber toward the center of the room, a little more beaten and bruised than when they first began the evening. Matt steps over the hunched body of one of the Russians, flexing his fists free of any lingering pain. Joe tries to swipe the blood from his nose, but it doesn’t do the job. The blood on his knuckles leaves behind an even bigger smear than the one he started with.

Matt looks around the room, scanning the bodies before him. He wonders if this is what his father’s battlefields looked like. “Looks like we’ve got our pick of the litter.”

Joe doesn’t waste time on wondering, his mind always moving toward the next step. Eternally trying to survive a war he wants no part in. “Start with any conscious ones,” he says. “If there are any left. See what they know.”

It’s as good a plan as any. When it comes to the Circle, there’s no way to tell a solid lead from a dead end. Time and time again, they find pockets of information that dry up before anything comes of them, and it’s hard to deny the feeling that this night is just more of the same. Matt and Joe could fight through entire armies but it still wouldn’t change the fact that the Circle isolates information to such a degree that not even agents twenty years their senior could identify it all. It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack—if one haystack suddenly became hundreds, and if each of them were located in entirely different countries all across the world. And if some of the haystacks had been burned up, others moved, and others shot outright for sharing information that ought not to be shared.

It sends Matt and Joe to Texas when they’re supposed to be in Istanbul. It lands them in an empty arcade, fighting guys twice their size, when they’ve got paperwork piling up on their desks at Langly. Sooner or later, they’ll have to face the fact that it’ll take more than a two-man team to take down something so immense, but for now, it’s Matt and Joe. It’s just Matt and Joe. They’ll interrogate the men they do have, rather than search for the men they don’t, because anything more is sure to paralyze them.

Matt takes a step forward towards the nearest available Russian, but he is stopped mid-stride by an unexpected sound. It doesn’t fit in with the rest of the noises pinging around them and with one glance at Joe, Matt knows he hears it, too.

They hear the click of a latch. The turn of a knob.

And a battle cry roaring at their backs.

They don’t think. They don’t have to. As soon as they hear the voice, the pair of them turn in perfect unison toward the storeroom. It’s the draw of their guns. It’s the pull of their trigger. Without a single shared word, both land a bullet to a kneecap of their surprise attacker—Matt to the left. Joe to the right.

Eight. A grand total of eight Russians, not seven.

The man’s screams turn from anger to agony, devastated that his sneak attack from the storeroom has only landed him a worse fate than his brothers. He falls to his knees first, but soon realizes the mistake he’s made and rolls onto his back, crying out toward the ceiling. His partners must hear him, but they do not dare face any additional wrath.

Matt stares at the pistol in his hands, no longer cold to the touch. It burns against his palm, even though the gloves, and for the first time, he registers the man on the other end. “Oh my god,” he says, distant and awed. He tests the weight of his pistol in his hand, then turns to Joe. “That was just like Galaga.”

Joe tucks his gun away. “Don’t start.”

“You were the second shooter all along.”

Joe doesn’t entertain this thought, which is just as well. They don’t have the time to spare on it. Instead, he approaches the man splayed out before them, squatting down to the right level. Joe’s voice is a quiet threat against outright screams. “What do you know about the Circle’s mission against the NSA?”

The screams continue, louder now. The part of Matt’s mind that is trained to translate realizes that the man is praying.

Joe speaks Russian nearly as well as Matt does, but he’s waiting for English. “My buddy and I,” he says, “got a lead from one of your friends about an upcoming attack on some very important data. I’d very much like to know why, how, and when that is going to happen.”

The man’s words dissolve behind tears. His god will be of no use to him now.

Joe cocks his gun. He doesn’t hesitate before placing the barrel straight against the roof of the man’s mouth. “It’s important you know,” he says, “that I’m not the sort of man to ask three times.”

“I know nothing,” the man says, words wrapped around a gun and an accent.

“You have three seconds,” Joe warns. “One.”

“I know nothing, I know nothing,” he pleads.

“Two.”

“You kill me or they do,” he says, but there’s a crack in his voice, and he’s close to a full break. “Please, they will kill me if I tell you.”

“And I’m going to kill you if you don’t,” Joe promises. “Would you rather take your chance with me now, or take your chance with the Circle down the road? Decide quickly.”

The man calls out, but Joe simply moves his gun to the chest now. It’ll be a slower death this way, and all three men know it. The tension of the possibility is enough to squeeze an answer out of the man. “Cameron,” he spits. “It will be an analyst named Henry Cameron. This is all I know. Please.”

Pistol unwavering, Joe glances up at Matt. It doesn’t take a single word between them to share the same thought. In this business, there’s no such thing as coincidences.

Matt nods. “I’ll call the girls.”

“Make it quick,” Joe agrees.

It feels dangerous, leaving Joe alone in the arcade, but not for Joe. If anyone can handle themselves against eight injured Russians, it is surely Joe Solomon. Matt's concern lies more with the other men, and all the ways they may come to regret landing on the other side of Joe's gun.

But that ain't none of Matt's concern. As he leaves the arcade, Matt hears Joe switch from English to Russian, trying to fish out any more information he can gather before they take off into the night. Matt doesn’t let himself listen.

Instead, he shoves through the same metal doors he entered through. The neon sign illuminates the edges of a payphone, jutting out from the side of the building. Matt brushes past the grime and graffiti to drop some dimes into the slot, dialing a number he knows by heart.

Her voice is a welcome familiarity beside the rush of the night, crackling across the distance between them. “Go for Bombshell.”

He doesn’t start with his name. The girls never need it from him. “I’ve got a question for you,” he says. “But when I ask it, you can’t panic.”

Abby’s easy on the other end, collected and calm in all of the ways an agent should be. It’s perfect. Not a word out of place. “Oh, but you know me,” she says. “Always panicking.”

It’s her typical tease. If Matt had the time to spare, he’d let himself sink into it, throwing it right back in her direction. Things being as they are, he doesn’t get the chance and cuts straight to the heart of the matter. “Do you know a man by the name of Henry?” he tries. “Henry Cameron?”

It ain’t often that Abagail Cameron is rendered speechless. Even when she is, it’s never out of a lack of words to say—rather, Abby often has too much to say, and she has to stop herself. Think. As silence fills the line, Matt knows that she’s filtering through the kind of classified information that he’s not supposed to hear.

So she starts simple. “What do you know?

And Matt lets her lead. “Very little.”

"How did you find out?"

"Haven't found out yet," he says. "That's what I'm calling you for."

She hesitates, but this is Matt. And Abby. It’s Matt and Abby, and there’s not much they can't say to one another, even when there is. “How do you know about the attack?” Her voice is just a touch lower than before, seeping with admission. “How did you know that someone broke into our father’s office?”

Espionage has a nasty habit of striking when least expected. No matter how much he prepares for a right hook, this business will always swing with the left. Matt just fought off a crew of highly trained agents, but Abby’s sentence is the first thing to truly punch him in the gut.

“I’m flying out to you,” he says, and maybe he ought to hide the urgency, but he doesn’t have the same filter Abby does. “Tonight.”

At once, her careful tone dissolves. Whatever cover she was hiding behind is lost to a barely concealed apprehension. “Matt, what’s going—?”

This isn’t a secure line. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Hey, Matt?”

“Yeah.”

He finally hears his friend, more than he hears the spy. “Should I be panicking?”

The answer is no, because girls like Abby don’t panic. The answer is no, because Matt can’t draw a logical line from an arcade in Texas to a robbery in Maryland. The answer is no.

But something about this stinks like stables in late August. So maybe Matt’s not sure what the right answer is. “I’m flying out to you.”

He hangs up the phone before she can get another word in, slamming it into the cradle with enough force to trigger a faint ring. In his mind, he’s already doing the math—time zones, flight costs, travel plans. Director Smith will expect them back in the office by Monday, and they can’t afford to raise his suspicion any more than they already have. It’ll have to be quick. They’ll have to be smart.

Matt’s hand still rests on the body of the phone when a shot rings out behind closed doors, assuring him that their work here is done. He doesn’t scare. He doesn’t even flinch. Some part of him knew that a bullet was the only way to end this evening.

One second passes. Then another. They're stealing slices of time anywhere they can get them.

Joe pushes through both double doors, chin up, making his grand entrance into the night. He’s got a fresh cigarette bouncing between his teeth and he brings the snap of his Zippo up to light it anew. “What’s the plan?” he asks into cupped hands, features lit aglow by the flame.

Matt fishes in his pocket for a set of car keys. “You win,” he says, starting back across the lot. “We’re not going to see Fitzy tonight.”

#Full Circle #welcome back boys #I hope yall are ready for some sisters

[mellowswriting]

OMG CONGRATS ON THE FOLLOWERS MY LOVE!!!!💙💙 I would love to request something angst but with a happy ending with Frankie please!!! I’m open for anything! Thank you so much!!!

Always

pairing || Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Reader

summary ||  You step in when Frankie’s ex leaves him with their baby and in turn, find your own little family.

word count || 7,213 

warnings || angst, hurt/comfort, parental abandonment

a/n || Thank you so much! Somehow this started as something small and then exploded into my longest fic on this blog. Enjoy! (p.s this gif does things to me smh)

Main Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

The last thing you expected was a phone call at the crisp time of 11:43 pm. It had been a long day already with your job being a disaster and you were half tempted to just let it ring so you could stay in the warm, safe cocoon of your bed...but something in your gut nagged at you to pick up, told that it was important. The bleary sight of Frankie’s name on your phone screen had you sitting up and rushing to hit the green ‘accept call’ button - he would never call this late unless it was serious. 

He sounded wrecked, his voice panic-stricken and cracking over words too rushed for you to understand, and your heart began pounding. In all of your years of knowing Francisco Morales, you had never heard him like this. Not when he called you while he was out on deployment, not when he whispered to you about the horrors he had seen overseas, not when you comforted him after the shitshow that happened in South America. 

“Frankie, slow down. I can’t understand you,” You tried to make your voice calm and reassuring but your worry bubbled through anyway, and you threw back the warm comfort of your blankets to scramble for clothes. Whatever this was, you needed to be there. There was no way in hell you would just listen to your best friend go through it over the phone. “What’s going on?”

A deep, shuddering breath crackled through the receiver, then “Eliza left us. She just...she just fucking left.” 

Your breath caught in your throat and acidic anger ripped up through your chest, nearly suffocating you in it’s intensity. The mere idea of her walking out on Frankie and their new baby after all she had already put him through...god, you could just scream. It was forced down with a harsh swallow - it was not the time for your own anger. With your sweatpants and hoodie yanked on, you paused, struggling to find any words of comfort. “I’m on my way, okay? I’ll be there soon.” 

“Ok” Frankie whispered and that was how you knew just how bad it was - he didn’t try to convince you not to come out so late or that you could just come in the morning like he did any other time he was in crisis. “Please don’t hang up.” 

“Frankie…” You whispered. Your heart ached for him, wrestling with your anger. “I won’t. I’ll stay on the line, I promise.”

You rambled about any and everything as you drove. He needed to hear your voice, needed to be distracted, but you felt a bit ridiculous talking about the boring things you dealt with at work that day while he was in crisis. It helped, obvious by the way his breathing evened out as he listened and hummed in response.  

There was no telling just how many traffic laws you broke as you sped the few blocks between your home and his. All you could do was be glad you weren't pulled over and managed to throw your car in park and kill the engine in the gravel driveway within ten minutes of leaving your own house. The front door swung open before you even managed to get out of your car and you practically sprinted up the steps to wrap your best friend in your arms. 

Frankie stumbled back slightly as you collided with his chest but he curled his arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck nonetheless. No words passed through the nonexistent space between you. There wasn’t any need. You pushed the door closed behind you before you led him further into his living room and settled next to him on the couch. The sight of his bloodshot eyes and the exhausted slope to his shoulders had a wild mix of anger and sadness whirling through you. 

“Where’s Isabella?” You whispered.

“She’s asleep upstairs. Eliza dropped her off and she just...slept right through it all, the entire argument.” His voice was hoarse, a testament to his rough night. “I...I can’t do this on my own.” 

“Hey, you aren’t on your own.” You said, your tone soft but leaving no room for argument. “I’m not going to tell you it’s going to be easy, but you sure as hell aren’t alone. You have me and the boys. God knows Santi will be happy to flex his status as godfather even more.” 

That pulled a half-hearted smile from Frankie. It was fleeting, gone in less than a second, but you counted it as a win nonetheless. Watching that far away look return to his eyes made you chest ache and you were desperate to break the spell of worry and anger that hung over him. Somehow knowing that you couldn’t even if you tried brought you no closer to peace. 

“Have you eaten?” You asked as you carefully brushed a hand through his hair, appreciating the curls that were usually hidden under his hat. Frankie leaned into the touch and you smiled softly at his acceptance of the comfort you offered. 

“No, but I can’t eat right now.” Frankie grumbled. The intensity of the anger, the shock, the fear, it all gave way to a mind-numbing exhaustion and he just wanted to sleep. You sighed but didn’t push him. “M’tired.” 

“Alright, c’mon. Let’s get you to bed.” You heaved yourself from the couch and offered Frankie a hand to pull him along with you. He grumbled quietly to himself as you ushered him up the stairs, the both of you mindful of the sleeping baby. Frankie flipped the baby monitor on and took a moment to observe the grainy image of his little girl, fast asleep and entirely unaware that their lives had just changed drastically. 

“She deserves better than a broken family.” Frankie whispered, the image of defeat as he sat heavily on the edge of his bed. There was nothing for you to say in that moment, nothing that would ease his burden or change his mind. So instead of speaking, you just sat next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulled him into your side and rubbed his back in slow strokes. Just when you thought he might be calm enough to lay down and get some sleep, Frankie went stiff against you and groaned. “Fuck, I have work tomorrow!” 

He was up and pacing a hole in the floor before you could even blink, grumbling out a quiet rant about the insanity of his situation. It seemed like he was a step away from spiraling out completely - and you knew just how to prevent that. Francisco Morales was a military man through and through; give him clear instructions and he’ll tackle a task with all he’s got. All he needed was for someone to help him see past the panic to the next step. 

“Frankie, stop.” You stepped in his way and put both of your hands on his shoulders firmly, only continuing when he finally looked you in your eyes. “Call the office now and leave a message for them to cancel your tours for the next couple of days so you can get your head on straight. It’s a family emergency. They’ll understand. And after you call them, you need to lay down and at least rest your body, because Isabella will need to be fed in a few hours and you need to get some sleep while you can. I’m staying the night -”

“Wait, what? No, you don’t have to -” Frankie interrupted but was met with your finger at his lips, almost cracking up when he pouted against it. 

“I don’t have to, you’re right. But my best friend needs my help and the little girl that I adore deserves to have a dad who isn’t ripping his hair out from stress. If the tables were turned and I was the one in this position, would you let me convince you to leave?” You took your hand away from his face when you shook his head ‘no’ and you gave him a small smile. “Exactly. So, I’m staying the night and I’ll be here to help wherever you need for as long as you need me. Okay?”

Frankie nodded. After that, it was easy to get him burrowed under his covers. His eyes drooped the second he was settled, and with a final brush of his hair off of his forehead, you turned to head back downstairs and set up a makeshift bed on the couch. A hand shot out from under the blankets to latch onto your wrist and Frankie sounded almost child-like when he whispered, “Please stay.” 

And who were you to deny such a sweet plea? You curled up on the opposite side of the bed, exhaustion finally dragging you under after the day’s insanity. Two hours later when a shrill cry had you both sitting bolt upright, you threw back the covers and slid out of the warmth of Frankie’s bed right along with him. 

“You go make her a bottle and I’ll check her diaper, alright? You asked around a yawn, already shuffling off to the nursery. Frankie made a tired noise of agreement and went downstairs, leaving you to scoop up his crying infant from her crib. “Hi, Bella. Let’s get you changed, yeah? Does that sound good?”

Once she had a clean diaper, you carefully carried her down the stairs and into the kitchen where her father was warming up a bottle. He smiled at the both of you as you approached and reached out to rub his daughter’s back where she lay against you, chest-to-chest. You could see the doubts worming their way back to the forefront of his mind by the way his smile faltered, and you put Isabella into his capable hands. 

“We’ve got this, Frankie. One day at a time.” You murmured to him before leaning down to coo at Isabella, grinning when she gave you a gummy smile. “Yeah, your daddy has you. Everything’s gonna be just fine.” 

And as you looked at the matching pairs of chocolate eyes sparkling at you in the low light of the kitchen, you could feel in your gut that you were right. 

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

After three weeks of staying at Frankie’s house nearly every night, the two of you had a schedule down packed and after two entire months, Frankie realized you were right. It sure as hell wasn’t easy - far from it, in fact - but everyone had stepped up just like you said. You would care for Isabella when Frankie was at work more often than not with Will and Pope picking up responsibility here and there where they could. The true savior here was you. You woke with Frankie in the morning, held his daughter up so he could kiss her forehead before he left for work, cared for her until he came home, and still stuck around to help after. 

You were a fucking goddess, and Frankie knew he would be lost without you.

Each day that passed had Frankie’s anger dissipating just a bit more. With his focus solely on establishing a new normal for his daughter, there wasn’t really time for him to think about just how screwed over he got. He was fooling himself into thinking that the storm of emotions that thundered in his chest didn’t need to be handled. Logically, he knew that. The clouds would crack and it would all pour from him eventually, he just didn’t know when. 

The boiling point hit on a Saturday. A beautiful day by all other standards; the sun was bright in the cloudless sky, leaving the air shimmering with warmth. The plan was to take a walk to the park with Isabella before meeting the guys for lunch, even though she wasn’t really big enough to enjoy the jungle gyms. In reality, Frankie just wanted to spend some time with his two favorite girls out in the sun. You had Isabella on the couch, getting her dressed after changing her diaper and rambling at her all the while. 

Frankie loved the way you talked to his daughter, as if she was entirely invested in whatever mundane story from work you were recounting, taking her gurgles and the spit bubbles she blew as excited responses. The stack of mail in his hand momentarily forgotten, he leaned over the back of the couch with a small laugh.

“Ya know, I don’t think she understands the intricacies of office politics.” He teased, his grin growing when you tossed him a glare that had no heat behind it. 

“And I don’t think she understands the intricacies of piloting helicopters, but you don’t hear me making fun of you when you ramble on about rotors at three in the morning.” You grumbled. The smile on your face betrayed any attempt to sound annoyed. 

Frankie barked out a laugh. “Touche.” 

With Isabella dressed and ready to rumble, Frankie intended to give the mail in his hands a once-over before heading out the door - until a large, yellow envelope with the state’s stamp inked in the corner caught his eye. What the hell did he do to have the state government contacting him? He racked his mind as he tore the envelope open, trying to think of any recent wrongdoings that could’ve gotten him into some legal mess. Maybe that red light last month actually caught his license plate last month. God, this was the last thing he needed right now with everything else he had going on, and - 

The five words stamped across the top of the papers made his heart lurch in his chest. ‘Voluntary Relinquishment of Parental Rights’, right there in bold lettering. Eliza’s signature was scrawled at the bottom along with a notary’s. He expected sadness, even tears, but no. 

No, Frankie was fucking enraged. 

White hot anger surged, leaving his teeth gritted and the papers crumpled slightly in his clenched fist. It had been years since he felt that kind of rage, somehow even worse than the anger he felt during the absolute shitshow that was the mission in South America. A shuddered breath escaped from behind his teeth as he desperately tried to grasp the urge to throw the papers to the ground, along with anything else within his reach. 

“Frankie?” The sound of your voice calling out to him sweetly, laced with concern and confusion, somehow only made that rage spike. The fact that you had put your entire life on hold to help him care for his child, the child Eliza swore up and down that she wanted with him before disappearing on them both, had him infuriated on your behalf as well as his own. Just how many lives was Eliza going to change forever with no remorse? Frankie tossed the entire pile of mail on the couch and stormed off to the kitchen, not wanting you or Isabella to see him in such a state. 

He had no idea how long he stood braced against the kitchen counter with his eyes squeezed shut, desperately trying to find a way to tamp down on the intensity rolling  through him. There was a quiet conversation coming from the living room, two voices too low for him to make out, and there was suddenly a hand on his own. Frankie finally opened his eyes to see you standing next to him, giving him a soft look that disarmed him and made him feel guilty all at once. 

You shouldn’t have to be here. You shouldn’t have to deal with the bullshit that always seemed to follow Frankie around every fucking corner. You were too good for his troubles, you deserved better. Frankie hated that he had brought you down this hole with him. 

“Where’s Isabella?” Frankie croaked out. 

“I called Will, he’s got her in the living room.” You said, your voice just as soft as the expression on your face, and Frankie wanted nothing more than to bury his face in your neck and cry or smash something on the ground just for the satisfaction of seeing it break. The confliction of his wants only made him angrier. “I saw the papers. What do you need?”

“What do I need?” Frankie repeated with a humorless chuckle before hitting the countertop with a clenched fist, just hard enough to make pain shoot up his arm - and the dam broke. “Anything! Anything but a life where the mother of my child doesn’t abandon us at the drop of a fucking hat!” 

The coffee mug that sat next to the coffeemaker was the unfortunate victim his impulses chose to meet the sudden, desperate need to get this rage out of his body. His arm reared back, ready to smash the ceramic mug right onto the tile, but the firm grab of two hands kept the lucky cup in one piece. You grabbed his forearm with one hand and wrapped the other over his, securing the mug in his grip as you stepped into his space and settled him with a firm look. 

“No, not here. Not like this, not with Isabella so close by.” Shame lanced through Frankie viciously. You were right, as always. How fucking stupid was he to think - “Let’s go.” 

“What?” was all he could mutter as you set down the mug and began pulling him towards the front door. 

“You’ve got Isabella, right?” You asked Will when you paused to fish your keys from the table next to his door, only continuing in your march towards your car when Will confirmed. Frankie’s guilt-ridden confusion only grew as you pulled out of his driveway after ushering him into your passenger seat. “You need to deal with this in a healthy way. Because god knows you have every reason to be downright enraged. Hell, I even wanted to throw shit around for a while.” 

Frankie could only stare at you, his anger and frustration simmering lower the more you spoke. There was a light in your eyes that he recognized, the same one that you had last year when he had to comfort you through the downfall and heartache of your last relationship. It was anger and sadness all wrapped up into an intense shine he recognized all too well. 

“But we are going to do these the smart way.” You continued and met his eyes as you pulled up to idle at a red light. There was… something there beneath the empathy, something hovering at the edges of your expression that he just couldn’t place. “Because you are my best friend and I love you and your daughter way too much to let you destroy yourself.” 

Heat flushed up his neck at the candidness of your words. Oh, god, he could not let that tiny, hopeful part of his brain latch onto that at run with it. No, it would reignite too many old feelings and needs to let himself hope. Of course you loved him and his child - you were his best friend after all. There was no point in letting himself even consider it beyond that. Not when he could destroy everything good he had left in his life. 

Frankie just nodded, trusting in whatever you had in mind. Less than five minutes later, you pulled into the town’s recreational fields and it clicked in his brain. The batting cages. He smiled slightly despite his inner turmoil. This was exactly where he had taken you when you finally got over the shock of your ex-boyfriend’s betrayal and stepped right into an unfathomable rage. 

He let you put the ridiculous helmet on his head and gratefully took the aluminum baseball bat from your hands once you got to the small fenced area where he could finally let out his anger. The quarters clinked as you slid them into the slot and you smiled at him from behind the fence. 

“You might feel stupid at first, but it helps.” You called out over the whirring of the pitching machine powering up and Frankie laughed. He had told you the exact same thing, verbatim when you had complained that the whole idea was ridiculous. 

The harsh crack of the bat meeting that first baseball was like taking a sledgehammer to the wall he had built around his anger. The next one had him grunting into the effort he put behind the swing of the bat, letting every bit of his rage and resentment sing in his veins and bleed into the impact against the ball. Each swing had him building up, had tension racking his back and shoulders only to be released with the ringing sound of aluminum and revived the moment his arms fell to his sides. 

“I just...I can’t fucking comprehend it! First, she was so excited. Went on and on about having the whole thing. ” He called out through each swing, knowing you were there behind him, hanging off of the fence to watch and listen. “The house and the kids and the - the fucking white picket fence life. All of it! And then she wanted all of that, but not with me. No, she’d co-parent and find some other man to shack up with because apparently I wasn’t enough for her. Yeah, it hurt and all but at least she was still around! And out of nowhere, she just fucking left! It’s bullshit!” 

The aluminum echoed harshly where Frankie threw it to the ground, his hands ripping his hat off to muse his hair roughly before settling back on his head. Every ball hit was like a point knocked off of his frustration. It wasn’t exactly fun, but it felt good. 

“Another round?” You asked and Frankie turned to see you with more quarters poised and ready to send more baseballs flying at his head. He nodded, more grateful for you than ever in that moment. 

“But at the same time, I am so glad she left when she did. It’s so conflicting because I’m pissed that she put us through that but at least it’s over!” Frankie continued, the pressure finally easing in his chest as he said the things that were building in his mind the last two months. “She jerked me around for so fucking long. At least I don’t have to worry that she’ll change her mind again. At least I can… move on, move forward in my life.” 

He didn’t even have to ask you for another round when the last ball had been pitched. This time, he said nothing. Neither did you. Frankie just needed to vent, to be heard. He didn’t need advice or pity or words of encouragement. Well, the encouragement he would need later. The rest would just make him even more angry. Every crack of the bat meeting a ball had the anger receding and exhaustion creeping up to take its place. There was a special kind of relief in the absence of anger - it didn’t exactly feel good, but it wasn’t bad either. Almost numbing. 

The bat clattered to the ground after the last ball was sent rocketing into the netting. Frankie was done, for now at least. It would come creeping back in, he knew, but he also knew he could handle it. He felt like he could handle anything with you by his side, with your support and… and your love. It was nice to be taken care of for once. You took the bat back to the office as he plopped himself down at a picnic table and a few moments later, a cool water bottle, dripping with condensation was pressed against the back of his neck. It was soothing against his skin, overheated by the harsh sun. 

The two of you sat together at that table for nearly an hour, not having to speak to convey how either of you felt in that moment. Frankie was beyond grateful, and he could tell you were happy he was feeling better just by the way you rubbed a hand between his shoulder blades. He almost lamented at the loss of your touch when you pulled that hand away, only to have you settle it on his just like you did back in the kitchen. 

You were always there, always managed to make him feel better. Even when his life was crumbling around him, there was solace to be found in you. In your words, your touch. You never made him feel ashamed when he exposed his sadness or his anger, never made him feel less than. It was impossible for that small flame not to flicker back to life deep in his heart. The spark of hope for the future, especially if you were in it. 

“Thank you.” Frankie choked out, unable to express himself any more than that. It didn’t matter, he knew that. You knew how much this little foray into stress relief helped him. 

“Always, Frankie.”

Later that night when all was quiet in his home, when the Miller brothers and Pope had left and Isabella was safely asleep in her crib, Frankie was still exhausted. The boys had come over instead of dragging him out to a restaurant and it was a blast, as always, but he couldn’t help the heavy way his shoulders were set for the rest of the day. He just wanted to sleep. 

The last thing he expected was the tears. An overwhelming feeling of being entirely unwanted washed over him and he was too damn tired to fight it off, so he sat himself on the edge of the bed and cried. No matter how logical he was with himself, no matter how much he reminded himself that he was well loved despite Eliza, the feeling just would not shake. 

Embarrassment layered on top of the sadness when you popped your head into his bedroom, hair still wet from the shower you just took. Frankie wiped the tears away with rough fingers as he turned away from you, giving an entirely fake laugh in a vain attempt to brush it off. He should’ve known better. You padded right up to him and gently cupped his cheek to guide him to look back up at you, and the understanding smile you gave him paired to the gentle brush of your thumb under his eye to wipe a stray tear away had his chin trembling against his will. 

“C’mon,” You whispered. Frankie watched you clamber onto his bed through tear-blurred eyes and settle against his pillows, your arms open in an invitation for comfort that he took without a second thought. Frankie laid his head on your chest, wrapped one arm around your waist, and closed his eyes before he could talk himself out of it. This was dangerous ground, letting himself take comfort in you this way. You brushed your hand through his hair, sighing softly as you relaxed. “We’ve got this. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Frankie’s voice was slurred slightly with his sleepiness, the craziness of the day finally pulling him under. “Yeah, we do.” 

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

At eight months old, Isabella was growing into a vibrant, happy little girl and you couldn’t be more proud. You hadn’t expected to play such a large role in her life, but now you couldn’t imagine doing anything else. According to her pediatrician, little Bella was as healthy as a horse and blossoming. ‘A textbook case of healthy development’ was what she had said at the last checkup, leaving you and Frankie to grin at each other. The first appointment after Eliza left was nerve racking with Frankie bouncing anxiously the entire time until Dr.Weston gave them the exact same response - Frankie’s daughter was right on track. 

The relief on his face had broken your heart. How could that man ever think he wasn’t doing right by his little girl? You saw him with her every single day. You saw the way he babbled along with her while spooning baby food into her mouth. You watched him lie on his belly with her in the living room during tummy-time, trying to help her strengthen her neck. You woke up to him stripping the blankets off of the bed when she couldn’t fall asleep anywhere but his arms and wanted her in bed with you both. If there was anyone who could attest that Francisco Morales was an amazing father, it was you. 

And you made sure to tell him that, as often as you could. It made the most delicious flush creep up his neck and paired with that bashful smile he tried to hide by pulling the brim of his hat further down, you could barely keep yourself from kissing him. Guilt ate you alive every single time you had those urges. Frankie was thriving after such an awful ordeal, and there you were, lusting after him like some over-excitable teenager. 

It was impossible not to feel so... domestic in your current set up. You slept at Frankie’s so often that your own home felt almost foreign when you would show up for more clothes or to grab something for work. You worked from his kitchen table or couch, tapping away at your laptop as Isabella slept or played on her playmat in front of you. The instinct to refer to Frankie’s house as ‘home’ and the way you saw the three of you as a little family was new and something you had to nip in the bud right away. 

That type of thinking would inevitably end in heartbreak when Frankie sent you on your way once he didn’t need as much help with Isabella. At least you knew it wouldn’t be anytime soon and could enjoy it while it lasted, especially since the home was currently plagued with a two word nightmare neither of you expected. 

Sleep. Regression. 

You sat in the glider with Isabella slumped against your chest, her cute little face pressed against your sternum as you rocked sleepily. Her eyelids fluttered every now and then, but there was yet to be a moment you could settle her into her bed. Frankie had tried before you, but even daddy’s arms weren’t good enough for the fussy baby. He was rooting around downstairs, searching for a little stuffed hippo that sometimes helped her calm down, but at that point, you were willing to just sleep right there in her nursery. 

The door cracked open slowly and you peeked one eye open to see Frankie shake his head slightly as he walked in. You held back a sigh. That damned stuffed hippo was going to be the death of all three of you, apparently. Frankie made an urgent noise and your eyes flew open, your eyebrows pinching together in confusion. With a baby constantly on the verge of either falling asleep or waking up, the two of you learned to communicate without words, instead using pointed looks and hand gestures to get a point across. 

Frankie gave a pointed look Isabella and you tilted your head down to get a good look at her, and good god you could barely believe your luck. A very long, drawn out transfer from your chest to her crib later, and you and Frankie were creeping out of the nursery, careful to avoid the creaky sections of the hallway. The second the door was closed, you held up a hand for a quiet high five with the goofiest grin on your face, and Frankie obliged with a chuckle. 

You practically threw yourself onto the bed you were starting to consider your own, yet another dangerous road, you knew that much. The stubbornness both you and Frankie held strong to had neither of you willing to let the other take the couch, insisting that ‘no, you need good sleep.’ and ‘well, you do, too!’. Each night you spent curled up next to him and waking up a hairsbreadth from each other had you positively yearning. 

It was nearly three in the morning and both of you had work in a few hours. The idea filled you with dread, and that was how you found yourself whispering to Frankie that you were calling out because ‘exhaustion is the best reason to use a sick day’. He cracked up at your antics as he crawled in next to you, but the look he gave you once he was settled in… it made your heart flutter in your chest. It was an exhausted, relieved, and grateful expression all rolled into one and in that moment, you felt like you could look at him forever.

You didn’t get the chance to. Frankie slid his arm under your shoulders and pulled you against him. It was too familiar of an embrace for you to shy away, even though you knew you should. You should’ve stayed on your side of the bed with plenty of space between you if you wanted to avoid heartbreak, but instead, you snuggled close to him and set your head right on his chest. You could let yourself indulge in the fantasy that he was yours for just a bit longer, especially if it meant getting this unforgettable experience of curling up with the man you adored. 

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you closer to the abyss of sleep, until his chest rumbled as he spoke, making you blink up at him. 

“Thank you, cariño.” Frankie settled his hand against your head, playing gently with your hair. 

“Always, Frankie.” You whispered back, a smile on your face even as you slipped into the most peaceful rest you had in years. 

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

The house was full of people. For the first time in months, Frankie threw a cookout. It was something you had missed dearly, inviting everyone over for food and beers and a bonfire if the mood was right. Isabella was beyond happy to see everyone she loved all at once, the nine month old squealing with delight at each person who scooped her up from her bouncer. You watched carefully, always ready to swoop in if needed while Frankie ran in and out of the house between the kitchen, grill, and living room. 

You had been worried it might be too much for him, the pressure of so much socializing after such a hard time, but he was all grins and twinkling eyes as he ran about. It warmed your heart to see that happiness radiating off of him. God, had you missed it. Things were finally looking up and it felt as if you had let go of a breath that was held in for far too long. 

Almost everyone was out in the backyard, soaking up the last of summer before fall got her chilly grip on the world, with you and a few others inside chatting. Isabella had just woken up and boy was she ready to go. Those chubby little legs flailed as you wrestled her into a clean diaper and back into her pretty pink dress. You leaned back with a small laugh once she was finally dressed, letting her have the free reign to roll over onto her belly. 

You glanced up at Will where he sat on the couch a few feet away taking a break from all the chitchat, and he grinned at you, muttering something about her being just like her father. You couldn’t agree more. You went to pick her up and carry her outside where she could get some sun and squeal at more guests, but your hand met the carpet instead. Isabella grinned at you less than a foot away, propped up on all fours as she scrambled away so quickly you worried she would get rug burn before you realized - holy shit, she’s crawling. 

“Go get Frankie!” You said to Will, who was staring at Isabella with a proud grin. He jumped to his feet, ever the good soldier taking commands, and you scooped the giggling little girl into your arms. “Look at you go! Oh, I’m so proud of you, sweet girl!”

A frazzled Frankie skidded around the corner out of nowhere, half of the crowd piling in behind him in worry, and internally you cursed Will for not informing him that nothing was wrong. Before Frankie could even ask, you motioned for him to sit down a few feet from you and he listened despite the deeply confused look he wore. 

“Are you gonna show daddy your new trick, Bella? Huh? Go on,” You cooed as you set her back down on her hands and knees, and she took off like a bat outta hell, scrambling for her father, who watched with wide eyes. Frankie broke off into a loud laugh and picked her up to cradle her against his chest, his eyes bright with unshed, happy tears as the crowd of friends and family let out whoops and claps. 

“Oh my god!” Frankie laughed wetly, shuffling forward on his knees to pull you in for a hug with his little girl in between you. Your cheeks hurt with the huge smile you wore as you wrapped your arms around him. The way he looked at you tore through your chest with the most pleasurable kind of pain and the urge to kiss him would have been undeniable if not for the friends that surrounded you. So you cleared your throat and leaned back, pushing his bicep gently.

“You better get back to that grill before everyone in here starves to death.” You tease and leave it at that, gathering Isabella in your arms to take her outside. What you didn’t see was Pope grabbing Frankie and dragging him up the stairs before he could make it outside along with you. You flounced about the backyard, the hem of your sundress fluttering at your knees as you let everyone get a chance to coo at the happy girl in your arms. 

Everyone was so happy, all smiles and laughs as they caught up with each other about the various going-ons of their lives, and you wanted to capture it so you could look back on the happy memories. 

“Hey, I left my phone upstairs. Do you mind if I leave her with you? I should be right back.” You asked Pope’s girlfriend, Jessa, who eagerly accepted the baby time. 

You climbed the stairs easily, humming some silly tune as you pushed open Frankie’s door. With your phone fully charged, you popped it off of the charger and sat on the edge of the bed to check your notifications. There were few messages here and there, mostly from people letting you know they were on their way a few hours ago, so you were content to make your way back outside with the sound of voices caught your attention. It was a low, metallic sounding conversation, but the TV was off, leaving only…

On the screen of the baby monitor were Frankie and Pope, both of them standing with their arms crossed tightly over their chests. If you didn’t know better you would have been worried they were about to fight with the way they glared at each other, but whatever it was wasn’t any of your business. You were going to leave but the sound of your name made you pause. Eavesdropping is wrong, you reminded yourself, even if you were painfully curious, and you made for the door once more until you heard Pope said, “You have to tell her, Fish!” and you froze entirely. 

“That woman loves you! She loves your little girl. You’re going to lose out on a good thing if you keep going like this, man!” Pope hissed and for a second, all you could hear was your own heartbeat. He couldn’t mean what you hoped he meant… right?

“I can’t! Isabella is already down one parent, and that… that amazing woman stepped in and saved us both. What kind of a father would I be if I risked my daughter losing a good woman? And for what? Because I'm in love? Absolutely not.” Frankie said in a tone you had never heard from him before. It was harsh, ringing with finality, and it absolutely tore your heart in two. 

But the halves of your heart were made whole by the single sentence, ‘Because I’m in love’. Frankie loved you. He said it. You heard it with your own two ears and suddenly those fears of yours felt absolutely ridiculous. That man and his daughter was your family, no two ways about it. And you couldn’t let him go on thinking that you didn’t love your little family more than anything in the world.

So you snuck back downstairs, your heart flying in your chest as you rejoined the little party and tried to act as normally as possible. In reality, you were paying more attention to the back door than anyone who tried to talk to you, giving little ‘mhmm’s instead of answering the questions anyone asked you. 

Yeah, you could be entirely oblivious sometimes. 

The second Pope and Frankie emerged from the back door you were on the move, excusing yourself from the conversation you hadn’t really been a part of anyway. The confused look Frankie gave you when you asked to talk to him inside was being adorable, his eyebrows scrunched together and head tilted to the side just slightly. He followed you in nonetheless, leaning against the kitchen counter as he popped open a sweating beer. Before he can even ask what’s going on, you step into his space and put your hands on his chest gently, watching as his confusion melts into surprise. 

“You are never going to lose me.” You whisper. “Neither of you.”

A blush bloomed up his neck and over his cheeks. “You...you heard that?”

“Didn’t mean to, scouts honor.” You smiled at him, trying to imbue him with the ease and absolute happiness you felt. “The baby monitor was on.” 

“Oh.” 

You can’t help but chuckle at the simple response and press up on your tiptoes, your hands sliding up to drape over his shoulders so you could play with the curls at the nape of his neck. The breathy sound that escaped Frankie’s chest had your need mounting, desperate to feel his lips on yours, and you lean forward to brush your nose along his. “Say it, Frankie.” 

“I love you.” He said it immediately, whispered it into you with a grin so bright it lit up the room with his happiness. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” You barely get it out before he leans forward to kiss you, soft and desperate and happy, all at once. Frankie’s hands fell to your hips and pulled your body flush against his, and it made you to grin against his lips. 

You were giddy. That was the only way to describe the excitement that left you almost vibrating with energy as you melted against Frankie’s chest. His lips were sweet, touched by the strawberries and grapes he snacked on as he grilled. 

“You love me, huh?” He muttered and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closed with a goofy smile that made your heart lurch in your chest. 

“Always, Frankie.”

#frankie morales x reader #frankie 'catfish' morales x reader #frankie 'catfish' morales #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales x you #frankie 'catfish' morales x y/n #frankie 'catfish' morales x you #francisco morales #Triple Frontier #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[astaroth1357]

Demon Brothers React to the MC Liking the Celestial Realm More Than the Devildom

Sort of thought that the Celestial Realm thing was kind of pointless in the grand scheme of things because it was so short. I want more Heaven content, so I’m going to force more Heaven content because I’m stubborn like that.

Lucifer

Isn't that surprised but it still stings a little.

He supposed it would be a little hard for literal hell to match up with literal paradise.

Purposely doesn't ask them much about their trip because he doesn't want to be reminded of the place.

Try talking to him about Michael and he might "conveniently" not hear them over the sound of his paperwork. *shuffles through stacks of paper obnoxiously and tries looking overly busy until they go away*

...lowkey kind of relieved to hear Michael is doing alright though, ngl.. 

Mammon

What??? They liked it up there?? Then clearly he hasn't taken them to all the best places down here yet!!

Starts dragging their ass across the entirety of the Devildom. It's a new club/bar/park/abandoned-ass building every night.

Will stop if they say that they've changed their mind, but only if he believes it.

A little curious about how things are up there but not really going to bring it up. He’s not salty or anything he just always thought it was boring there anyway so not a lot has probably changed.

Will get jealous if they’ve become closer to the angels by doing this and will whine about it. He may even tell them a few stories of his angel days to try and win them back.

Leviathan 

Jealously sulking in his room about it…

Of course the human would like it up there… Everybody likes it up there… What good is Devildom to them after seeing a place like that...? How are we supposed to compete...?? It’s not fair… *mutter mutter mutter*

May honestly get super depressed for a little while unless the MC steps in to try and cheer him up.

Starts getting a bit more aggressive when the MC is around the angels. A lot quicker to cut into conversation and gets defensive of RAD, the House, the Devildom, etc. It’s kind of like he’s got something to prove...

Not curious at all about how things are. Why would he care about what’s going on up there? His room is down here.

Satan

Not as bothered as his brothers, partially because he's never really been.

Very curious and open to discussing their trip with them. 

What’s it like? Who was there? Did you meet Michael? Please say he gave you embarrassing dirt on Lucifer.

Not going to lie, old dirt on Lucifer is about 80% of all he cares about.

Not threatened in the slightest by the angels still being there. Even if MC liked the Celestial Realm more than the Devildom, that was just a visit. It’s not like they can go back… Right..?

Asmodeus 

Whaaat?? They have the audacity to like it there more!? Don't they know they can only find him down here???

Takes extreme offense and, like Mammon, starts dragging them around with him to see the “best” of the Devildom. Which are apparently clubs. Lots of them.

Unlike Mammon, he’s not going to stop until he damn well feels like it. This human needs some education on where all the real fun is after all!

Says he doesn’t care about how things are but that’s only because he’s ticked. In truth, he wants to know how everyone has been fairing and if Michael is still just as handsome as he remembers. 😏

Acts like he might straight up throw hands with Simeon and Luke for a few days, we’re talking sass galore, but calms back down pretty soon after. Apologies to them later for losing his temper, he just couldn’t stand the idea of the MC wanting to be in a place where he's not allowed to go too...

Beelzebub 

Is it the food…? It's the food, isn't it…? Definitely the food.

Kind of sad, but also really gets it. He remembers it being nice up there before everything went south.

And, of course, the food is incredible. He’d drool just thinking about it… Yeah, doesn’t really blame the MC for liking it up there. Maybe they could smuggle him with them next time?

Second only to Satan in being okay with hearing about their trip. He mostly just wants to hear what they had to eat though. They give lots of detail but don’t show him any pictures. He’d eat the phone.

Not bothered by the angels or worried they’ll take MC away. They came back to the brothers after all, plus they all have pacts with them. That’s got to count for something, right?

Belphegor 

"Eh, whatever…" *pretending not to care*

*cares immensely*

Like. Ow. They know that they all have a pretty bad history with that place right? Kind of not cool to just go out and say it like that…

Has no interest in how it’s going there and is proud of it. He’s excommunicated that “family” from his life a long time ago...

Isn’t openly hostile to the angels but glares at them a lot more, especially when they’re not looking. If they’re thinking about taking MC away then they’ll have to go through him first...

#obey me #obey me reactions #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me brothers #obey me simeon #obey me luke

[ladyblogger-margie]

Motel Adventure - Chapter 1

Pairings: Will “Ironhead” Miller x F!Reader, Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader, Santiago “Pope” Garcias x F!Reader, Benny Miller x F!Reader

Summary: A “Choose Your Own Smutty Adventure” story. Chapter 1 follows F!Reader and the Triple Frontier boys (post-movie) on a roadtrip where you’re forced to pull over for the night unexpectedly, and there aren’t enough beds. Who will you choose to bunk with? Or will you sleep alone? (hint, all decisions end in sex). Your choice will determine Chapter 2. 

Word Count: 1343

Warnings: 18+ ONLY because this is a setup for PURE SMUT to come in the multiple Chapter 2s. 

a/n: I love the “Only One Bed” trope, and I love ALL the TF Boys (not Tom) and wanted to practice writing smut for all of them, so I had an idea for this little concept. I hope you have as much fun with it as I did. 

MY MASTERLIST

You had known the guys for years, but in the time since Tom’s death, you’d become especially close with them. You had noticed them struggling after whatever the hell happened in South America, and while you never learned the exact details, you knew enough to know they needed each other. So you took it upon yourself to hold them together. And in turn, they kept you happy, kept you whole. They had all become your closest and dearest friends. 

That’s how you found yourself on this weekend away road trip with the guys, all piled into Frankie’s truck. Benny had a fight tournament out of state so you all decided to make a weekend out of it. Benny had won his Saturday night Championship fight and the celebrations ran all night. While fun, it set you way behind schedule for your Sunday return home. 

And then the rain started. The sky was a dangerous, threatening grey all day and when the sun went down, the sky fell hard. The rain was torrential and Frankie was white knuckling the steering wheel while everyone else was silent. 

You were in the back sandwiched between Will and Pope as you gripped the back of Benny’s passenger seat nervously. You trusted that Frankie was an excellent driver, but you’ve never seen conditions like this. 

You didn’t want anything to happen to any of these guys. They were your family and you loved them. But you also were in love with one of them, and none of them had any idea. You hadn’t wanted anything to change in your group, you didn’t want to ruin this stable dynamic all of you were so dependent on these days. Admitting your feelings could jeopardize everything. 

You had realized your feelings a few months back when you were all out at the bar one night. You had all taken Frankie out for a drink when his divorce finalized. The divorce had been civil and Frankie was a proper co-parent, it’s just that sometimes people don’t end up together. Despite the fact that Frankie said he was totally fine with it all, you and the boys insisted he needed to blow off some steam at your favourite dive bar. 

“I really am fine,” Frankie said, “But it is nice to get out with you all.” And he clinked his glass to all of yours. 

You all hooted and hollered for him in response. Then you took turns sharing your worst breakup stories. 

“Well I’ve never been one for relationships,” Pope said, “But that shit in Australia hurt.”

“At least you tried,” Will said, “I never tried to make it work with my girl when she ran out.”

“To be fair,” Benny interrupted,” She was a bitch.”

Will shook his head but didn’t fight his smile, “Still, trying’s got to count for something.”

“Well I still think I win,” Benny said.

“You haven’t heard mine though,” you pointed out. 

Benny scoffed, “Mine ended with half my closet being set on fire.”

“I ended up homeless sleeping on my cousin Molly’s couch,” you explained, “Don’t you remember I was living with her and Tom when I met you guys?”

Benny thought about it, “Yeah but then you got to meet us, so I’d call that a win.”

Everyone laughed and you noticed the pitcher was empty at the center of the table.

“Next round’s on me,” you said standing and heading to the bar. 

While you waited your turn, you looked back at the table with your boys and smiled. 

A large frat boy looking guy stepped in front of your view of your table. 

“Hey, sexy, can I buy you a drink?” He asked.

“I’m good,” you said as the bartender passed over your pitcher. 

“That all for you?” The frat boy asked

“Nope, me and my friends,” you pointed behind him and when he turned to look you saw the boys watching you carefully. You pulled a “save me” face in their direction, hoping they saw it before the frat guy blocked your view again. 

“Ditch them,” he slurred at you, “I’ll give you a night to remember.”

You forced a smile, “No thanks.”

“Come on, you’re hot and I’m sure I could rock your world,” he offered as he backed you up against the bar, leaving you without an escape. 

“Please let me go back to my friends,” you asked, bracing yourself. 

“Why are you being a bitch?” his voice was threatening. 

“There a problem here?” Benny asked from behind the guy. He was flanked by Pope, Frankie, and Will.

“I think it’s time to go,” Will suggested, his arms crossed and jaw locked. 

“I was just talking to her,” the guy said, his arms up.

“Do you want to keep talking to him,” Pope asked you, but his eyes were locked on the frat guy. 

“Nope,” you said, your voice stronger now with the arrival of your backup.

Frankie took the pitcher from you in one hand and grasped your wrist with his other hand, “Come on, let’s go sit down,” and he led you away. 

“I think you should call it a night,” Will told the guy.

The guy went to argue when Benny stopped him by saying, “That wasn’t a suggestion.”

“I’d listen to him,” Pope finished and the guy sulked away out of the bar. 

You sat with Frankie at the table smiling when the other three rejoined you. 

Pope touched your arm gently, “You okay?”

Will and Benny watched you so softly, and Frankie still held your wrist. It was all so sincere, so genuine. 

You laughed. You laughed and they were stunned so you explained, “You guys are like my own personal security detail. Never has it been easier to give a creep the slip.”

They all smiled themselves, just glad you were alright. 

“I was really fine, that happens all the time,” you explained, pouring the next round for the table from the fresh pitcher. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that,” Will said.

“It’s life,” you shrugged. 

“Not with us,” Frankie promised. 

The guys nodded and you felt the skin of your face grow warm. 

“Okay, this is getting sappy,” you joked, “Who wants to play quarters?

Later that night alone in your apartment you replayed the evening and realized while you were touched they all had your back, you had a different feeling about one of your defenders. You lulled yourself to sleep imagining that he felt about you the way you felt about him. 

The memory of that night flashed in your mind in time with a vibrant bolt of lightning that lit up the whole front window of the truck. 

“Maybe we should pull over and find a motel for the night,” you suggested.

“She might be right,” Will said. 

“How are you feeling, Frankie?” Pope asked. 

“I’d be okay with a motel,” Frankie answered with his eyes glued to the road. 

“I think there’s one at the next exit,” Benny said, pointing at the exit sign ahead. 

Frankie carefully exited the highway and the motel appeared not far down the road. It wasn’t anything flashy but it would do the trick so Frankie parked the truck in the parking lot. 

“I have to call work and leave a message I won’t be in tomorrow,” you explained, “I’ll catch up.”

The boys nodded and promised to get you a room as you pulled out your cell under the protection of the front awning. 

When you hung up, you headed back inside to see the four men standing there, a little sheepish, each holding a room key. 

“What’s up?” you asked. 

“Apparently lots of people decided to get off the road for the night,” Frankie started. 

“So there aren’t many rooms left,” Will continued. 

“We got the last four vacancies,” Pope said. 

“You’ll have to share with one of us,” finished Benny. 

Your breath hitched and you realized you could spend the night, alone, with the man you were in love with. You just had to have the courage to choose. 

Choose Will “Ironhead” Miller*

Choose Santiago “Pope” Garcias*

Choose Frankie “Catfish” Morales*

Choose Benny Miller*

Choose Alone*

#triple frontier #will ironhead miller x F!Reader #santiago pope garcia x f!reader #frankie catfish morales x f!reader #benny miller x f!reader