#op you could have just punched me in the face

[tacticaldiary]

A Cracked And Fissured Door

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking."

It stings, if she's being honest. Being kept at an arms length when in public. Most people know about them, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

Masterlist

"If he sends us out before next week I'm quitting." Soap groans, back cracking as he flops down forward on the bar. "Three ops in a week? What do I look like, a machine?"

Gaz snickers, raising his glass to that. "Bloody might well be at this point."

She hides a smile behind her own drink, leaning back into the bar. They had done three ops in a week, mission after mission after mission. It had been pretty rough, just as Soap said and she was more than ready to crash and burn and sleep for three days straight but abandoning their tradition of getting drinks at this specific bar everything Saturday was not something anyone on the 141 was willing to break.

"Just be glad we got the weekend off." Ghost says from beside her. She smiles warmly at him, is rewarded with a slightly blank look.

The flicker of her smile is hid behind another sip.

"Betcha your gonna take advantage of that, eh?" Soap nudges her, looking pointedly between her and Ghost. The latter rolls his eyes and says nothing.

"Only thing I'm looking forward to is an actual mattress." She knocks back the last of her drink and stands, shrugging Gaz's arm slung over her shoulder. "Speaking of which, I think it's about time we call it a night." Casting a glance at her boyfriend, who merely nods in confirmation and pushes the stool back himself, she nods at the others. "Don't cause too much trouble, boys. Text us when you're home safe, yeah?"

"We just got shot at for a week, don't think a car ride home is gonna be the end of us." Soap snorts.

"You never know." Is all she says before stepping out of the bar with Ghost, who offers her her coat to shrug on.

"Hell of a week." She comments, glancing at him gratefully as she shrugs on the warm fabric.

"Just glad it's over," Simon says simply.

Walking back to their car, she can't help but cast quiet glances at him as they walk. She knows Ghost notices them, chooses to keep looking ahead and keep the silence.

Truth be told, she aches to touch him.

Aches to feel his skin on hers, to feel the callouses of his hands brush against hers. His heat, ever all-encompassing makes her feel safe in a way no bulletproof vest ever could.

"Think I might ask Price to assign me desk duty for a while." She jokes, knocking their shoulders together gently.

To the untrained eye, to someone who might not have been tuned to what makes Simon Simon, it wouldn't have been noticeable, but he leans subtly away so they don't touch again.

She doesn't mention it, but it makes her heart heavy.

It's nothing new. She's not sure why she's even surprised anymore.

Trying again, her arm hangs beside her, purposefully brushing against his gloves. The frown on her face deepens when he shoves his hands into his pockets.

Maybe it's the exhausting week she's had, but it gets to her, infects her heart, mind, and soul with the insecurity she keeps locked behind a cracked and fissured door in her mind.

It stings, if she's being honest.

He's not the most...social person. Closed off and private, but baring her soul to someone she loves and getting so little in return...

Being kept at an arm's length when in public, even though their relationship is not a secret. Most people know, actually, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

The car ride home is silent, but not in a comfortable way their quiet is usually shared. Simon seems to pick up on it, because he grips the steering wheel a little too hard, the tension in his shoulders a little too foreign.

Gaz had no problem touching her. A friendly punch to the arm, an arm around her shoulder. Soap was a touchy person by nature, nudging her and ruffling her hair.

So why was it that Simon always pulled away?

The one person who should love her the most, who should be proud of loving her...why does he pull away and pretend this thing between them doesn't exist.

She doesn't get it, hasn't understood for the past two years they've been together. Pushing was not something she'd considered given his stubbornness and private nature, but there's no denying she's always felt a twinge of hurt whenever he disregards her in public.

Was he...ashamed? Of her? Did he not want to be seen with her?

The thought latches itself onto her, sucking away the usual confidence she carries and leaving her a nervous mess. It makes her sick. Before she knows it they're back home but she can't find herself to walk any farther than the front door that's shut behind her.

He doesn't comment on it, just casts her an inquisitive look before moving to the kitchen in view.

Simon always did like a cup of tea before bed.

"Simon?" The word comes out a little garbled, caught in her indecision, and morphed into something muffled. He hears it, because of course he does, and hums. Doesn't look up from where he's rifling through the cupboards for his kettle.

The air is cold in her lungs, freezes up with nerves, and this is all so ridiculous. It's stupid and she shouldn't be feeling this way but she does because she just does.

Trust was a precious jewel, a diamond only given to those who trusted enough to keep it unmarred. Necklaces and earrings and bracelets, she feels like she could make millions of intricate pieces with the bits of trust she had bared for Simon to take and keep as his own.

Simon knows what she loves, what she hates, how she feels about anything and everything. The rhyme and reasons, the way she ticks, and what throws her off kilter. He knows it all, it's been given willingly and eagerly to the man who took her heart with that rough demeanour on the tarmac two years ago.

She had given him all her gems, the shiniest and the dullest ones, but he's never even been bothered to spare her a piece of coal.

When she doesn't speak immediately, he pauses his movements and sets down the kettle on the counter with a 'clink'. "What's the matter, love?" He straightens up.

"Do you want to be with me?" She blurts out, unable to fathom leaving this conversation for another day. Not when she's so worked up and hurt and feeling.

His face stays blank, and when he responds it's almost as if he's doing it carefully. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I asked." The sides of her coat are clutched with a knuckle-white grip, nausea making her an inch away from ruining the lovely carpet they'd picked out together when they'd first moved in.

Simon furrows his brows. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"That's not what I asked." Unease starts to curl up in her gut. "Do you like me, Simon?"

"Of course I fucking like you, what are you talking about?"

"You sure don't act like it."

There.

It's in the open now. Simon stares at her for a moment, shocked or stunned or whatever emotion that causes him to clam up for a moment.

He never really was good at this part of their relationship, but this...it was vital. It was important because she refuses to let this problem define what they have together.

"You don't touch me when we're not alone." She starts, "You act like I'm just no one when we're out together. You barely acknowledge me any more than anybody else, pull away when I try to touch you." It feels good to let this all off her chest. Months and months of trying to figure out what was going on. "Tell me why. I just want to know why."

"I'm a private person-"

"No Simon, that's not what this is." She shakes her head, emotion rising inside her. "You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking. Like I'm...like you want to keep me a secret."

Her eyes are glassy because saying it hurts so fucking much, but it needs to be said. It needs to be voiced, he needs to listen and acknowledge-

"You know that's not true, so it shouldn't be a bloody problem-"

"Do I?" A laugh burst out of her, unexpected and short. It's enough to cut him off, cause him to narrow his eyes. "You've never told or indicated that to me. Not once. Not in two years."

"It's common sense. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't want you." She can tell he's trying to stay level, to meet her in the middle but all caution gets thrown to the wind because is he really trying to argue with her on this?

"No, it's not." She insists, trying not to raise her voice as anger bubbles up inside her. Was he not getting it? Not understanding that this was hurting her? That he was hurting her? "Sometimes I-..." She swallows, "Sometimes I'll be having a great time, like today. I'll be laughing and enjoying myself and then I'll glance at you, or try and do something as simple as brush shoulders, and I'll watch you push me away. Or pull away." Her voice waver but she fights to keep it steady. "And it makes me feel miserable because what is it about me that makes my own boyfriend not want to accidentally touch me?"

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He says, hackles raised at being put on the spot like this. Ghost doesn't mean to, but this is all so new to him and the only thing he knows how to do in these rapidly changing situations is to be sharp and jagged and tense. "If you're so miserable, why are you still here?"

"Because I love you!" She cries out. "And I can't help but think that I might never get the same back from you." Her grip on her coat tightens.

There's a beat of silence.

"I never asked you to. You knew what you were getting yourself into."

His words cut through the quiet, as sharp as the blades he keeps strapped to his thigh.

"Oh, fuck you." She whispers. "Don't give me that bullshit. That's not an excuse for not trying-"

"Not trying?" His voice gets slightly louder. "I try every day. I try to be someone you deserve but you're bloody well making it difficult when-"

"Just stop!" She yells over him. "Stop. I'm not asking for something you can't give. I'm just asking for an explanation."

"I can't-"

"You can!" To her dismay, her eyes burn with tears that are bound to fall in a few seconds, but she's too far into it to turn around now. "It's been two fucking years, Simon. Two years. I've never pushed or pressured you, I've listened and sat here and tried to be the one you can come to, but you never do." She sniffles, wiping her tears away roughly.

He stays silent, visibly frustrated but letting her talk.

"Do you know what they say back at base?" She spits out. "About me? They say I've forced you into being with me." A hollow laugh. "That I've got some dirt on you that keeps you quiet, or that I'm just someone you pass the time at night with because everyone thinks that you want nothing to do with me during the day. They talk about why we're still together, why you're still with me when you clearly have no interest." Her tears are long forgotten, left to trail down her cheeks in rivers of hurt. "They say...they say I'm only on the 141 because of our relationship."

And that was what hurt the most. Her own skills undermined like that.

That startles him enough to pull his brows in confusion "I didn't know..."

"Of course you don't, why would they say it in front of the man who looks like he could snap their spines in half?"

She waits for him to speak. To say something, anything, but all he does is stare at her with those half-blank eyes that she can never decipher and it infuriates her because did he not just listen to what she's told him.

"You know what, forget it." She chokes out. "I'm done. I'm fucking done with this." She gestures to them both, vaguely watching his eyes widen with muted panic. Getting shoved into a woodchipper would be less painful than the hurt that tears through her chest, hiccupping on swallowed sobs.

"Hold on-"

"I can't be the only one keeping us both afloat." She reaches behind her for the doorknob. "I don't want that. I love you, Simon. I really do, but it hurts so fucking much when you act like I'm disposable, like you're ashamed of being seen with me."

The door is pulled open by her, and then roughly shoved shut by Simon. He moves quicker than she could register, behind the counter one moment and right in front of her the next. His hand stays firmly on the door, keeping it shut as he leans down to catch her gaze.

"Ashamed is the last thing I am about you." He says quickly, clumsily. "I-...fucking hell that's not right at all, love."

Simon is...he's panicking.

The thought strikes her immediately with the way his chest rises and falls quickly, the lack of that cold clipped grace in his voice.

"I don't care." She chokes on a cry, hands planting themselves firmly on his chest to shove him away. It's like nudging a brick wall. The man is immovable, standing in place with their bodies so close it feels like they're sharing heat. "I'm tired, and you're making it worse so let me go." He grabs her wrists, presses them against himself to keep her in place. His hands are warm, rid of the gloves he usually dons.

She's met with every inch of that scarred face of his. She hadn't noticed but he'd discarded his mask as he'd been rushing around the counter to get to her.

"Listen to me." He breathes, trying to get his thoughts straight and keep her there with him. He can't lose her, can't let her walk out the door because he's afraid that she might never come back. "Please."

It's the last word that pauses her struggle. Simon...he was someone who operated on orders and demands so the frantic and silent plea pushed into the word is enough to make her still for a moment.

And a moment is all he needs.

"I've never..." He thinks for a moment. Never has she seen him look so frazzled. He tries again. "Everyone I've ever loved has been killed." Her eyes widen at the declaration. "My family. My friends...everyone." His breath fans over her face with how he's leaned down, hot so very him. "I think I'm afraid if I show the world I love you it might try and take you from me too." Simon's voice breaks at the end, as if he's voiced something from his nightmares and despite the pain she's feeling the sound slices through her. "And I can't...I can't live with losing you too."

With bated breath, he waits for her to respond. Part of him can't bear to look her in the eyes after the admission but he finds himself staring at her face anyway, drinking in any sign of hope.

Hope. How long has it been since he's felt the warm rays of such a feeling?

Slowly, so slowly it makes his breath hitch, she tugs her hand free on his. For a moment Simon thinks she might push him away again and his heart sinks like a stone, but then her fingertips graze his face, her hands cup his cheeks and suddenly they interlock behind his head, pulling him in.

Simon crushes her into him, tucking her head under his chin with a shuddering breath of relief. He's not lost her, not completely.

Hope.

There was still such a thing for a man like him after all.

"I'm not going anywhere." She mumbles into the crook of his neck, the feeling of his lips moving on his skin sending a shiver up his spine. "I'm so sorry, Simon. If you'd told me that before I would have tried to help-..."

Simon shakes his head immediately, arms tightening around her. "I chose not to tell you. The thought of coming home and seeing you on the ground...bloody...like them." He swallows past the lump in his throat. "Fuck, I'm sorry I hurt you, sweetheart."

Simon didn't apologise often, so when he did that means he knows he's fucked up.

She does not tell him it's alright, that she forgives him or that he's fine. Because he's not. His apology, his honesty doesn't make the months of hurt go away. It still aches at her like before, but this time the ache has a meaning behind it. It has a reason.

They hold each other for a moment, against the door, two people knee-deep in a problem that's been brewing for weeks and weeks, bubbled over the edge in the ugliest way possible.

"I need you to try." She whispers after a moment, the barest of smiles gracing her face when he nods slowly.

"I know." He says simply against her hair. Gently swaying in each other's hold, both are content to stay there for a while, to calm their racing hearts with the knowledge that the other is still there, is real and solid under their hands.

And it's enough.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Change is a slow trek to an ever extending finish line.

Simon keeps his word. If there's anything it's good at, it's resilience. Though it makes him antsy and paranoid and dare he say slightly nervous to open such a part of him to somebody again, he tries.

He tried because he'd rather saw his own arm off than be the one who gives her a reason to leave. Not her. Not the best thing that's happened to him in years, the person who's managed to wake up Simon after years of being Ghost.

A subtle brush of hands as they walk.

An arm around her shoulder while they drink.

Thighs and sides pressed together as they take their seats on a heli.

The squeeze of her knee from under the table.

It builds and builds into something warm and new and fresh, a feeling that overshadows all the worry he had about the universe having a vendetta against him because if there was one good thing that Simon Riley wanted to keep, it was her.

Their weekend is filled with conversations, real conversations about things they've kept to themselves, worries and concerns, and moments of hesitance. He tries his best, though some words die on his tongue before he can get them out. She pushes him, but never more than he can take. Heart, body, and soul, she knows him like the back of her hand but he's the only one who can truly let her into his mind.

All that aside Simon also has another more personal task to work through once their weekend is over.

After paying some not-so-nice visits to more than a dozen people (to his absolute fury), she never once hears a peep of another disgusting rumour ever again.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(26/07/2023)

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare x reader #angst #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #x reader #x y/n #cod mw22 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost modern warfare #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #cod ghost #cod mw ghost #ghost simon riley #mw2 ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #cod fanfiction #cod fic #cod fluff #cod gaz #cod headcanons #cod imagines

[mistydeyes]

Hi izzie,can you write what it would be like if one of soaps cousins that’s in SAS but often has time to visit the base and is dating 141 members

fem reader preferably

thank you so much for submitting! so sorry it took a hot minute for me to get to this but i hope you enjoy!

the invasion of the scots

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summary: As you walked into the briefing for your latest co-op mission with Task Force 141, all eyes were on you. Usually, this wasn't out of the ordinary as you were one of the first women to complete the full selection process for the SAS and your reputation preceded you. However, this was different as your gaze shifted from your surprised cousin and your terrified boyfriend.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader (codename: Peitho)

warnings: SWEARING

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"I'll see you all tomorrow at 08:00 for a briefing," Price announced as everyone exited the training room, "we might see some familiar faces, the SAS is loaning us some of their best." As they all walked to the showers, Soap just happened to be walking with the exhausted Ghost. "Have a cousin in the SAS wonder if she'll be there!" he hummed happily, "haven't seen her in ages." Simon nodded and hoped his suspicions would be wrong tomorrow. He turned on the shower and sat under the cold water for a moment. Out of the handful of women that was in the SAS, the chances of it being you were slim but never 0.

"Hey Peitho, are you ready to meet the renowned 141?" your friend joked as you exited your vehicle. "Just another room of sweaty men, it's like a basic Tuesday for me," you replied and jokingly punched his arm. "But you only hear whispers about these guys, no one doesn't even know how many of them there are." "I'll take my chances, Haystack," you muttered and you continued to follow your captain to the briefing room. As you walked through the linoleum hallways, you could feel the stares everyone was giving you. "Jesus, it's like they've never seen a woman before," you scoffed and Haystack turned to you. "It's not every day someone sees a legend like you." You smiled slightly at his compliment. It had been a few years since your big accomplishment. You and another woman had been the first to ever complete the full selection process. It was daunting to experience the grueling exercises and jeers of the other men but you would smile and take what was thrown at you. "I thought this was selection not a training run for Royal Navy," you'd spit and everyone backed off.

"Play nice," your captain warned before entering the door. You followed right behind him and walked to his right. "As promised Price, here's the best of the best," he announced as he gestured to the four of you. "Here we have, Buccaneer," everyone's gaze turned to the stoic man who stood at 6'7'', his dark hands and arms glistened with taupe-colored, healed scars. "Next there's Typhoon," and again, everyone's eyes shifted to the man who stood shorter than Buccaneer but whose body was pure muscle. He gave a small wave, followed by a crazed smirk. "Next, there's Haystack," your close friend walked forward as his pale skin and bleached hair practically blended into the wall, "got the reputation of being dead weight but he'll be the best combat medic you'll ever need." "Finally," you knew it was your turn and you stood forward, slightly.

You took a look around the room and noticed the men looking back up at you and their files. However, as your eyes drifted to the left, you could feel your eyes widen with recognition. There sat your cousin, you knew he was in the British Army but didn't realize he rose to this caliber. He had a slight smile on his face as he looked at you. However, your familial reunion would have to wait as you looked over at the broad man wearing a face mask. Although his face was obscured, you would recognize his figure and eyes anywhere. In fact, it was the one that was on top of you in bed a month ago. You swallowed as you both locked eyes. Why the fuck was Simon Riley here?

Your revelations were disrupted as your Captain continued his introductions. "We have, Peitho, one of the best women to ever make it out of selection. Don't even try anything with that one, she'll take you out before you can even utter a word," he joked and you nodded at his statement. "I assume you've all seen what they can do, I've given you our best hijacker, weapon specialist, combat medic, and covert operations specialist," he concluded and the floor was all Price's. "Thank you, Captain, they'll do great," he said confidently and the room boomed with his voice, "they can get to know my men on the plane." At this, everyone took a seat. You sat on the opposite end of Simon and Johnny, but you could feel their eyes on you. "Now for the debrief," Price directed and dimmed the lights to illuminate the large monitor on the display.

"I expect you all to review the floor plans our intel has provided," he directed as Sergeant Garrick yawned, "we will be leaving at 06:00 in two days." "Happy reading," Haystack commented as you both walked towards the exit. Before you could leave, Johnny placed a strong arm around your shoulders. "Y/N!" he exclaimed, "Haven't seen you in ages." You smiled up at him and reached a hand to ruffle his short, dark hair. "Pleasure seeing you again," you replied, "you're far from the lad who went to those raves." You both shared a smile as you caught up and exchanged some stories from the last few years. "Your mam said you were in the SAS, but I didn't know you were the one who completed the selection," he continued. "Told her not to brag," you replied, remembering how talkative your mother was especially when it came to her only daughter. Before you could continue, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You both turned and realized you were blocking the exit for Simon.

"Sorry about that, Simon," you said, almost instinctively. As the words tumbled out of your mouth, you realized the mistake you had made. "Simon?" Johnny questioned and you both knew you were doomed, "Y/N, how do you know Lt?" Fuck. Me. you thought internally as Simon's eyes shot to yours in a panic. "Um, some out-of-office relations," you choked out and before Simon could exit, Johnny grabbed his arm. "You fucking bastard," he muttered, "so this is where you've been spending your leave?" The situation was escalating as Simon escaped his grasp and crossed his arms over his chest. "My personal life is none of your business, Sergeant," he commanded and Johnny balled his hands into tight fists. "It does when it's my cousin!" he practically shouted and you hoped no one could hear the commotion.

"Johnny, calm down," you directed, "I had no idea, Simon even worked with you. It's only been 6 months since we met." Before anyone could continue, Captain Price stopped in the doorway. "Hey!" he boomed, "we have a mission in 36 hours, get on it." You all nodded like scolded children and began to make your way back to your quarters. Before you could part, you gave Simon a quick hug and turned to Johnny. He still had the same angered look on his face and you rolled your eyes. "Get over it, little Johnny boy," you teased at his childhood nickname and he looked away. "Fine, but you know there are serious implications of pumpin' a superior," he mumbled. He walked off and you looked back at Simon. "Surprise, love?" you said almost questioningly before Simon led you to his quarters to “review” the floor plans.

As you sat wedged between Simon and Johnny, you were getting to know Sergeant Garrick or Gaz as he preferred. "So Pietho like the Greek goddess?" he asked and you nodded. "Goddess of persuasion and seduction," you smiled before Simon hit your thigh lightly. "I think I'm gonna be sick," Johnny moaned and Gaz just looked even more confused.

#cod mwii #mw2 imagine #task force 141 #mw2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley angst #madebyizzie #task force 141 x reader #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #izzie is writing

[mactavsh]

Situational Awareness

Synopsis: The boys get captured following a lead on Shepherd and it’s up to you to save them before its too late.

Relationships: Task Force 141 x Gender Neutral Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of blood/injuries

Note: someone said feral reader so here we are

Masterlist

You should have been with them. You weren't sure if it would have made any difference but you belonged with your team. The previous mission left you with a decent gash along your arm, just enough that you were benched for the current excursion. While the boys shipped out you worked overwatch with Laswell, gathering intel and guiding the boys in the field.

A lead on Shephard and the remnants of Shadow Company led the team to an abandoned factory compound. Throughout the mission, they were in constant contact with the base at least they were supposed to be. Gaz announced they were breaching another building and that was the last contact you received from them.

After a half hour of silence, Laswell started trying to pull up satellite images, anything that could shed light on what happened. Kate managed to get a drone to the area but there was nothing, like they disappeared without a trace.

Two weeks later you finally found something actionable. You led a small team to a safehouse Laswell discovered. After a bit of not-so-gentle persuading, the Shadows there gave up a set of coordinates.

As soon as you were back on base you practically ran to Laswell's office to give them to her. Much to your dismay, she didn't share in your urgency or so you thought.

"That will take too long!" You paced the room, shaking your head as you spoke.

"We can't go in blind, Y/n"

"If we wait any longer they'll all be dead if they aren't already." You stopped in front of her desk.

Laswell sighed and stared ahead at her computer. She had put the coordinates in and was looking at satellite images of the area. "We have their location that's good but it's not enough. We need to get a team together, find building schematics."

"You know as well as I do, not one of them will talk. As soon as Shepherd gets bored they will be killed."

"I can't authorize an op without more information. We need to surveil the building first. Figure out how many people are there, if Shephard is there." She stood from the desk, her tone shifting. "However, I am technically not your commanding officer."

She turned to face the window and you realized what she was doing. You quickly took a photo of the screen, making sure to capture each image before you stepped back.

"I understand." You spoke as she turned back around to face you. "You know how to reach me."

As you turned to leave Kate spoke once more. "Be careful, Y/n."

"I will."

-

It wasn't hard to formulate a plan, after all, you were recruited by Price for a reason. Your strategic thinking went almost unmatched and your propensity for stealth made you deadly. You waited for nightfall before sneaking off base with all the gear you'd need and some that packed a bigger punch.

The drive was tense as you got closer to your target, you stopped in a clearing a few miles north to avoid detection and hiked the rest of the way. No overwatch and no backup, you triple-checked your gear. There was no room for error here.

The two-mile hike seemed to pass in an instant, your feet carrying you on autopilot through the dark forest. Looking up at the building when it finally came into view you gathered what information you could. Three floors, unknown if there was a basement. One large receiving door and two entrances on the northern and western sides of the warehouse.

Your plan was to use stealth to take out as many Shadows as possible. Moving floor by floor looking for the boys. You knew you would inevitably be discovered, so you'd hoped at that point you would have found at least one of them and that they were in any condition to help you fight.

You decide to enter through the northern entrance. The first objective was to steal a uniform so you could move through the building easier. As you went you were to keep an eye out for weak points, places to set one of the many charges you had brought with you.  After tightening the straps of your vest and double-checking the C4 in your backpack, you readied yourself as you moved out of the tree line and toward the door.

Situational awareness. They practically beat it into in when you enlist, it could very easily be the difference between life and death. You thanked whatever high power was up there for granting you a natural affinity for the skill. You were on high alert each cell in your body buzzing, your highly trained eyes scanning the environment for threats.

Approaching the door you turned the handle slowly. Peeking in you checked both directions before entering fully.

The door opened to a long hallway that was empty as you entered. Slowly you moved in deeper, listening closely for movement. The familiar weight of the rifle in your hands was welcome as you delved further into unknown enemy territory.

The rifle however was simply to keep up apprentices while inside until all hell broke loose. Shooting it would attract every Shadow in the building to your presence. You had also attached a silencer to your sidearm but even still the shot could be heard if someone was close enough. Even if the noise wasn't heard, the blood would certainly be noticed. Snapping necks or choking them out was dangerous because you had to get up close but it was clean and quiet. Stealth takedowns are your best option for ensuring no one knew you were infiltrating the base until you wanted them to.

A single set of footsteps could be heard approaching from behind you so you ducked into a closet. Leaving the door open a crack you waited for the Shadow to be in front of it before pouncing. You grabbed him in a chokehold and dragged him back into the closet. He thrashed in your hold but not long before you had enough of a grip to snap his neck. He fell limp and you slowly guided his body down to the floor.

Lucky for you he seemed to be about your size so you made quick work of relieving him of his uniform. You momentarily removed your tac vest to put on the jacket with the Shadow Company emblem. Your vest was already black so it fit in with the uniform. It had seen you through countless missions, quickly becoming an extension of you. Price had given it to you when you joined the 141 and it has been with you ever since. You grabbed the gaiter and helmet next, adjusting them to fit properly over your face, effectively shielding your identity.

You strapped the dead man's rifle to your back for later and brought yours up as you exited the closet once more. Head held high you continued pushing forward.

Turning down the next hallway you paid close attention to the attached rooms. It was quiet, you couldn’t hear many voices if any. You didn’t have time to clear each room but some of the doors had windows allowing you to confirm those particular rooms were empty. You stashed that information in your mind for later.

Footsteps approached from in front of you but you held fast. A Shadow rounded the corner, not paying any attention to you. A plan quickly formed in your head. You waited until he passed you and was standing next to the door of one of the empty rooms before calling out to him.

“Excuse me,” He paused his walking and you approached so you were standing in front of him. “I seem to be a little lost, could you tell me where the armory is?” You lied.

He rolled his eyes and just as he was about to speak you lunged, maneuvering him into the empty room and kicking the door shut behind you. He fell lying on his stomach, so you straddled him and held his wrists against his back. "Where’s the 141?"

He gritted his teeth as he squirmed. "Fuck you, I’m not telling you shit.”

You tutted in his ear. “Is that really how you want this to go?”

“I’m dead either way." He grunted as he struggled beneath you.

“So you’re not entirely stupid then.” You shifted both of your positions so you were on the ground behind him, holding him firmly with your thighs as you pulled his arm at an awkward angle.

"You have a choice here." Your voice was low, calm. "I can kill you quickly and painlessly. Or," You tugged on his arm earning a groan from him. "I can make sure you bleed out nice and slow where no one will find you."

He grunted at the pressure before he spoke. "The Captain is in a cell on this level, south hallway with the Brit two doors down from him."

"What about the other two?" When he didn't answer right away, you pulled on his arm once more, popping it out of the socket.

He yelled in pain and you quickly brought a gloved hand over his mouth to muffle the noise.

You waited for the man to still before removing your hand. He spoke hurriedly as soon as the barrier was gone. "The Scot was being annoying so they pulled him out of his cell and brought him to the top floor. The big guy is there too."

"What's up there?" You shifted again, putting him in a chokehold.

"Interrogation."

“What about Shepherd?”

“He left a few days ago, I don’t know where.”

"Good boy." You patted his head before snapping his neck. You stood and dragged the body deeper into the room, out of view from the door. You planted some C4 in the room before readjusting your gear back into place. Stretching your neck you headed out of the room and toward the southern end of the building.

The building was large and you mentally kicked yourself for entering on the opposite side of where the boys were, not that you could’ve known. The long walk however did give you an opportunity to take out many of the patrolling Shadows as well as get a better idea of stairwells and possible escape routes.

Finally, you entered the hallway in question. There was only one guard stationed outside the doors. Obviously, they didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to storm their castle. You waited until you were right in front of the guard to pounce. Quickly reaching up and snapping his neck then lowering the body quietly to the floor. You pulled the keys off his belt, opened the door, and dragged the body in with you.

The cell was dimly lit and smelled strongly of blood. Price was chained to a chair in the middle of the room. He slowly raised his head looking at the dead Shadow then at you, a weary expression crossing his bloodied features. You pulled your mask down as you approached him.

"Y/n?" He spoke, voice horse.

"Nice to see you, Cap."

He paused squinting at you through a black eye as you unlocked his bindings. After you finished you hooked the keys back onto your vest and stood in front of him.

"Where's your team?" The Captain questioned, finally noticing no other soldiers were with you.

"My team went and got themselves captured."

Price grabbed your bicep as he stood. "Y/n, did you come here alone?"

"Didn't have a choice. You boys were running out of time and Laswell's hands were tied."

"Christ."

"I know, reprimand me later. Gaz is down the hall, Soap and Ghost are on the top floor." You handed him one of the guns you looted off a Shadow. "We're all we got."

He took the gun and nodded. "That's all we need."

You moved toward the Shadow you had just killed, quickly relieving him of his uniform and helmet then handing it to Price. "Can't have you breaking my cover just yet."

"As soon as we have everyone, we're blowing this place to high hell." He spoke as he got dressed, wincing when he tightened the vest over his chest.

"What d'ya thinks in my backpack?" You smirked.

"Remind me to separate you and Soap from now on."

"Aw come on, sir." You feigned offense as you stepped up to the door, pulling your mask back up and preparing to move. You pulled more explosives from your back, carefully affixing them to the wall.

With your back turned you couldn't see the small smile that crossed Price’s features as he looked at you, a sense of pride swelled in his chest. He pulled up his mask as he took position behind you. "Take point, kid."

"Copy." You opened the door, looking both ways before stepping fully out. Quickly you moved two doors down. You unhooked the keys from your vest and unlocked the door.

"I'll watch the hall." Price spoke, closing the door for you as you entered the room.

Gaz's cell was the same as Price’s; same dim light and metallic scent. You pulled your mask down and the scent hit you hard. Shaking it off you moved toward Gaz, his head was limp against his chest, slow breaths could be heard emanating from him.

"Gaz?" You kneeled down and set a hand on his shoulder as soon as you were close enough. Blood slowly trickled from his nose and you assumed it was broken by the new angle it was bent at.

"Come on Kyle, we gotta go." You gently shook him, a light groan left him as he woke.

Bleary eyes met yours as he regained consciousness, a smile forming from cracked lips. "My hero."

You rolled your eyes and smiled at him before gently removing the chains holding him in place and standing in front of him. "Can you stand?"

Tentatively he stood grabbing your shoulder for support. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them, clearer than they were before. "Ready to roll."

The door opened and Price dragged a dead guard in with him. You felt Gaz tense next to you and realized Price still had his mask up, so you addressed him. “Having fun out there without me, Captain?”

Price pulled his mask down and looked toward Gaz who relaxed his grip on your shoulder. "Wouldn’t dream of it. Good to see you're still standing, Sergeant."

"You too, Cap." Gaz let go of you, rolling his shoulders back in preparation for the fight to come.

"Get dressed," You pointed at the Shadow Price just dragged in. "Soap and Ghost are on the top floor."

"Don't you have a squad with you?" Gaz questioned.

"No, they came by themselves." Price interjected.

"Badass." Gaz moved to high-five you.

Price grabbed Gaz's wrist before his hand could meet yours, placing the Shadow's uniform in it instead. "Don't encourage them."

You smiled sheepishly at Gaz as you moved back toward the door. "We should get moving. I've made a dent in their numbers but it's only a matter of time before someone finds the trail of bodies I've left and sets off some alarms." You pulled some C4 from your pack and affixed it to the wall next to the door. "Ready?"

"Got your back," Gaz spoke as he finished getting dressed. Price handed him the gun that the Shadow had been carrying. He pulled his mask back up and you and Gaz mirrored the motion.

You opened the door, the two men falling into step behind you. You lead them to one of the stairwells you’d noticed earlier, it would take you straight to the top floor. You didn’t want to prolong your stay here any longer, neither of the men with you would admit it but you could see the physical toll their time here had taken. They both moved cautiously and you could see a slight limp from Gaz.

After ascending the stairs, stopping a couple of times to plant explosives, you slowly approached the door. You peeked through the small window in the door. The top floor was much smaller than the rest, the door opened to a large room with one door situated to the right, and one guard stationed in front of it. He was a hulking figure, taller than Ghost but leaner. He stood between you and the room that held the rest of your team.

Years of sparring with Ghost had taught you how to fight an opponent who was stronger and bigger than you. He wanted to make sure you knew how to defend yourself in any situation. Mentally, you thanked him as you formed a plan of attack.

"Let me get him out of the way. Keep going," You unhooked the keys from your vest and handed them to Price. "Ghost and Soap should be through that door. As soon as I engage, move."

"Y/n-" Gaz began to protest but you cut him off.

"Neither of you are in any condition to fight him off and we can't make too much noise until we get through that door. That big fucker is the last thing standing between us and them. I'll be right behind you." You pulled three comms from your vest and handed one to Price and Gaz then put the other in your own ear. You pulled out two more and handed them to Price who tucked them into his pocket. "And if we're still doing our dance by the time you're done then I'll shoot him and we can blow these fuckers sky high."

“Shouldn’t I be giving the orders?” Price spoke with no real heat.

“I’m open to suggestions, I’m a just and fair tyrant.” You smiled and Price shook his head.

"We'll be fast," Gaz spoke up and patted your shoulder.

"You better." You spoke as you exited the stairwell and headed straight for the guard.

He stood up straighter as you got close, eyeing you incredulously. “No one is allowed up here. Name and rank?” He spoke, voice stern.

“Ah yes,” You stopped right in front of him. “Sergeant none ya business.” You smiled and could have sworn you heard Soap’s voice from the other side of the door.

“Who’s your commanding officer?” He raised his voice more, crossing his arms as he stared you down.

“That would be Captain kiss my ass.” This time you were sure you’d heard Soap laughing. Deciding not to further press your luck with the bantering you sent a swift kick into the man's crotch. It was a low blow sure but this was Shadow Company and they deserve far worse for their actions in Las Almas. He doubled over and you used your leverage to throw him to the side and away from the door.

“Now, Price!” You yelled into your comm. Quickly the pair ran from the stairwell and toward the door, unlocking it and heading inside.

Your opponent had recovered and lunged toward you, but easily you dodged. Kicking a leg out you knocked him off balance and onto the floor.

It was a momentarily lapse, your mind focused solely on the opponent in front of you, and you didn't notice the one that had just exited the stairs. A shot rang out, then a scream tore from your throat. The bullet lodged itself into your pelvis and you fell backward. The first guard lunged positioning himself on top of you and wrapping his hands firmly around your throat.

“Y/n what’s going on?” Price’s worried voice sounded in your ear but you couldn’t respond. Your body acted on pure instinct then, grabbing your sidearm and firing two shots. One for the man above you and one for the other, both bullets hitting their mark.

The Shadow fell limp on top of you, effectively knocking the wind out of your lungs. Your side screamed in protest at the weight but you were unable to move.

"Y/n, how copy?" Price's voice rang through your ear again as your vision began to blur. Strength slowly left your body as you tried to push the dead Shadow off of you to no avail.

Suddenly the weight was lifted off of you. Ghost and Price threw the Shadow to the side while Soap kneeled next to you. “Y/n you keep those pretty eyes open for me, aye?”

“Doing my best, Johnny.” You wheezed out, the fog quickly leeching into your mind.

He smiled softly at you. “I know.”

Ghost was staring at you behind his mask, worry creasing his eyes. “What’s our exfil?”

“There’s a truck two miles north of here in a clearing.” You spoke, wincing as Soap put pressure on your wound.

"Reinforcements?" Ghost questioned.

Price sighed, "Y/n came alone."

"Bloody hell." Ghost feigned disappointment, despite your current state, he was impressed.

"That's fuckin' badass." Soap beamed at you, squeezing your shoulder.

"That's what I said." Gaz smiled, wincing when he reopened his lip again.

"Stop encouraging them." Price shook his head as he spoke. “Ghost grab them let’s get the hell out of here.”

The conversion sounded further and further away as blood pooled beneath you. You used your last bit of energy to pull the detonator from your vest and handed it to Soap.

“Do the honors would ya?” You breathed out before the world went dark.

-

Heat radiating in your side brought you slowly to consciousness. Your brain struggled to regain traction in the fog that clouded it. The mission came back to you slowly, the fight, the gunshot, the boys. Panic set in, you didn’t know if they got out. Your eyes shot open as you sat up, violent dots danced in your vision and you could hear movement near you, something beeped incessantly to your right.

A familiar voice entered your ears. “Hey, you’re okay, I got you.”

Calloused hands settled on your shoulders, grounding you. The beeping slowed. “You’re in the hospital on base.”

Your eyes finally cleared and you could see Price standing next to your bed. He gently guided you to lay back down and that's when you noticed the rest of the team at the foot of your bed. Various bandages and bruises littered their bodies but they were alive.

You tried to speak but ended up coughing instead. Ghost appeared in front of you and silently handed you a glass of water with a straw.

“Did I miss a party?” You managed after wetting your throat, voice still hoarse.

“It seems we did.” Soap smiled patting your shin.

“How're you feeling?” Gaz asked.

You shrugged. “Good as I can I guess. Just glad everyone made it out.”

“You did good,” Price spoke. “But don’t ever do that again or I will sign your discharge forms myself.”

“Yes sir.” He smiled at you and patted your shoulder. You knew the statement came from a place of worry. Your infiltration could have easily gone a different route and you could have been sitting in the morgue right now.

Instead, you were surrounded by your found family.

A light atmosphere settled in the room, you watched content as the boys chatted amongst themselves. You laughed at the terrible jokes Ghost and Soap were telling each other. Smiled while Gaz and Price told the story of Gaz falling out of a helicopter for the millionth time. The 141 would live to fight another day and god help anyway who tried to stand in their way.

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader (platonic) #task force 141 #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain john price x reader #mactavsh

[spidey-x-male-reader]

Hey, I saw that the requests were open and wanted to ask one for atsv if thats ok~

I saw the ftm reader so maybe the reader asking for a tatto, maybe a stick and poke for his chest after op from Hobbie, leaving the design to him as he really likes the things hobbie does or customize~? it could be fluff angst anything, just some ideas~

Pairing: Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) x trans male!reader

Requested: yes / no

Warnings: mention of top surgery and needles

A/N: cue me taking way too long to write this because I started reading a tutorial on stick and poke tattoos and got distracted. oops

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

MASTERLIST

The sharp sting of the needle against your skin made you hiss quietly in pain. Hobie, your caring and talented boyfriend, glanced up from his work, dipping the needle into ink, concern etched on his face. "You okay, love?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.

You mustered a smile and replied, "I'm fine. It just hurts a little, that's all."

Hobie's eyes searched yours, his expression still tinged with concern. "Are you sure you want to go through with this? You just had surgery. It wouldn't be a surprise if you wanted to take a break before getting a tattoo."

You shook your head determinedly. "No, Hobie. You know how much I've wanted this for years. Finally having a chest tattoo means a lot to me, and I want it."

He sighed, but a smile played at the corners of his lips. "And you're absolutely sure you want me to do it?"

"Absolutely sure," you affirmed, your voice filled with confidence and love as you gazed at your boyfriend.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes locked with yours. "And you're sure you want me to choose the design? I mean, you've waited so long. I wouldn't want you to end up not liking it."

A mischievous grin spread across your face. "Since when are you so hesitant, Hobie? That's not the guy I know."

"I just want to make sure you'll be happy with it. This is important to you," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Slowly, he started to lightly pinch the needle into your skin. "But don't worry. I'll make sure you'll love it."

You couldn't help but giggle. "As if I could ever not love anything you create. You're such a softie sometimes."

Hobie chuckled, shaking his head. He continued with the stick and poke tattoo, humming a soft melody to himself. Every now and then, you tried to steal a glance down at your chest to catch a glimpse of the tattoo design.

"You wanted it to be a surprise, remember?" he teased, his chuckle filled with warmth. "So, keep your eyes on me, love. I'm almost done."

Time seemed to stretch longer than you had anticipated, but eventually, Hobie sighed with satisfaction and leaned back, carefully putting the needle away. He stood up, moving to hand you a mirror. "Well, what do you think?"

With a grin spreading across your face, you met his eyes and instantly recognized the design. "A spider, huh?"

Hobie's grin widened. "You like it?" he asked eagerly. "I thought it would be a unique reminder of your incredible boyfriend."

You playfully punched his shoulder. "You're such an asshole," you said, but he quickly grabbed your hand, pulling you closer.

"Don't say that now, love," he smirked. "Seriously, do you like it?"

Your eyes softened, and you couldn't hide the affection in your voice. "...I love it."

A satisfied smirk crossed Hobie's face as he pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss.

#male reader #spiderman reader #hobie brown #spiderman #marvel #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown headcanon #hobie brown x male reader #hobie brown x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman headcanon #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x reader #marvel imagine #marvel headcanon #marvel x male reader #marvel x reader #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse headcanon #spiderverse x male reader #spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse imagine #across the spiderverse headcanon #across the spiderverse x male reader #across the spiderverse x reader #pride #gay

[meowmeowriley]

Idea that's too short for an AO3 fic: Tactical Cuddling. (Is It Tactical Cuddling If There's No Tactical Need And It's Just Straight Up Cuddling?)

Side note- No but fuck you, I'll call this mini fic whatever I want.

established relationship, GhostxSoap, fluff Soap uses feminine terms of endearment and call Ghost his wife because I think it's funny.

Ghost had been on a long Op. Several weeks in the dark. No contact with his team, with his family, nothing. He was dirty, and exhausted as he trudged through the base. He'd debreifed with Price, after which he'd pulled out his phone and groaned.

"Something wrong, Ghost?" Price raised a brow.

"Bloody phone's dead. Just wanna talk to Johnny." He sighed in defeat. He'd charge the damn phone, then call his boyfriend ASAP, then he'd go to sleep. Knowing himself, he'd probably combine the last two, falling asleep to Johnny's voice was just so damn nice.

Price was smiling at him. "Stop by the sergeants quarters, say hi to the new guy, then get some rest. You've earned it." Damn Price and his push for camaraderie.

"The new guy?" He asked, exhaustion painting his words darkly. Or maybe it was disdain, he hated meeting new people, after all.

"You'd've known if your phone wasn't dead." Price dismissed him then Ghost kicked himself mentally again for forgetting to turn the damn thing off to save the battery.

Now, as he shuffled towards the Sergeants's room, he cursed the new guy for being between him and his room, and consequently, his ability to call Johnny. Nothing should stand between him and his Johnny. This man was already on his shit list. He'd be lucky if all he got out of Ghost was him flipping the man the bird. What Ghost really wanted to do was punch him in the face. The other sergeants were already afraid of him, might as well start the new guy off right.

He could hear Gaz talking as he approached, and started gearing up his best glare to send the way of the new guy whom Gaz was most likely talking to, but when he got to the doorway his legs and lungs stopped working simultaneously. There, across the room, was his beautiful beloved boyfriend. Johnny.

"Oh, sir, you're back! This is our new Sergeant, Soap." Gaz started to introduce, it fell on deaf ears.

Ghost jerked forward, barely keeping himself from running. With single minded focus he crossed the room. Johnny looked at him with a crooked grin, but he couldn't hide the worry in his eyes. Ghost knew he looked like shit, still fully kitted and filthy, but he didn't care. He collided with Johnny, crushing him in his embrace. A smaller man would've snapped like a twig. His momentum carried them both around and then down, falling gracelessly onto the bed that had been behind Johnny. Roach's bed, but who fucking cared? Not Ghost. "Simon!" Johnny grunted as he was pulled down on top of Ghost, then he chuckled as he accepted his fate.

"Missed you love, but why are you here?" Ghost asked. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, carding his fingers through Johnny's hair.

"Got transfered. I texted you?" Ghost could feel the man cock his head to the side.

"Phones dead." He grunted.

Johnny hummed and Ghost felt a kiss be pressed against his lips through the mask. "You know, I wasn't expecting to get tackled." He chuckled against Ghost's clothed lips.

"Wasn't a tackle. Was a hug, 'n then I decided to lay down." Both he and Johnny laughed at his cheek. Ghost thought himself pretty damn funny.

"I thought you said you had a wife?!" Gaz croaked. Right. They had an audience of two.

"Aww, you talked about me?" Ghost teased.

"I didn't give them your name, in case you wanted this a secret. Guess I didn't have to be worried." With his hand still on Johnny's head, Ghost felt him turn to look at Roach and Gaz as he spoke to them. "Aye, he's the wife." He turned back to Ghost. "Simon, hen, you're filthy. Let's get you changed, yeah?"

"M'fine. Lemme sleep, Johnny." Ghost was fighting nodding off, the comforting weight of Johnny on top of him was pushing him towards sleep.

"No, come on. Up." Johnny was pulling on his tac vest, climbing off the bed to pull him up. Ghost obliged with a huff, and finally opened his eyes again. Roach and Gaz were staring at the two of them with open mouths. "You should hear the shit they said about you, Simon." Johnny said with a grin, causing both the other men to blanch. He began meticulously removing Ghost's kit. Helmet first. Then vest.

"I'm sure most of it was true." Ghost yawned as he lifted his arms to allow Johnny access to the sides of his vest. As he sunk down to remove Ghost's holsters and knee pads he looked up at Ghost.

"Ye eat babies, love?" Those electric blue eyes danced with mirth.

"There's something I've been meanin' to tell you, Johnny." Ghost couldn't help the smile that spread as he joked. The mask hid it anyway.

Johnny gave a playful shove to his chest, then withdrew his hand and gave an experimental squeeze to his fist. Ghost knew his shirt was drenched with sweat, if they were still early in their relationship perhaps he would've been embarrassed. Right now, he was not. Johnny made quick work of his shoes. "Right, let's get you some new clothes as well."

"My room's too far." Ghost didn't whine. Wasn't capable of it. At least that's what he told himself.

"I've got plenty of your clothes here, hen." And sure enough, from his own bag, Johnny produced a shirt and a pair of underwear, both belonging to Ghost.

"Bloody thief." Ghost whispers as he allows Johnny to take his dirty shirt off him. He caught a whiff of it as it was pulled over his head, damn thing was mingin.

With the shirt out of his way Ghost could see their audience had the decency to turn around. Good. Johnny took his underwear next, and while he didn't mind changing in the same room as his sergeants, he didn't need them gawking at him. As soon as his underwear was in place, Ghost grabbed Johnny from behind and pulled him back down. He removed his mask and buried his face in Johnny's hair.

"Siiimooon." Johnny unabashedly whined. "This isn't my bed." Ghost looked up to see Roach shifting from foot to foot, looking at them.

'That's my bed, sir.' Roach signed fearfully. Ghost was aware. He glared over Johnny's head, snapped his fingers and pointed towards what was apparently Johnny's bed. Roach nodded and scrambled towards it.

"Arsehole." Johnny chided him. Ghost barely heard it. He hummed in response. He was comfortable, warm, not clean but at least stripped of his gear and dirty clothes. Only one thing left he really needed, other occupants of the room be damned.

"Johnny?" He mumbled sleepily.

"Aye, love?"

"Talk to me?"

And he did. Ghost could feel the rumble of Johnny's words through his arms, wrapped tightly around his love's chest. And he nodded off thinking about how nice it would be to have him around more.

#cod mw2 #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #fanfic #text post #established relationship #oneshot #idk man #I'd love to fall asleep to that man's voice

[genderkoolaid]

I wanna use this post as a case study in gender essentialism and TERF rhetoric in lesbianism. And I am going to be making assumptions about OP's beliefs and feelings based on this post and their tags.

[Screenshot of a tumblr post and it's tags. OP's url is not shown:

"I'm a man who identifies as a lesbian" got it you're a fucking predator goodbye.

#men canNOT be lesbians what's not clicking #and the fact that anyone could identify as such or actively support someone identifying as such is fucking sickening #as if men trying to force themselves on lesbians and people trying to force men into our attraction isn't bad enough #now we have people actualy identifying as such??? you are chronically online mf #and no this post does not apply to he/him genderfluid or transmasc lesbians who do not identify as men #but it you identify as a MAN and yet also identify as a lesbian then literally block me #and it's a punch to the face if i ever encounter one of y'all motherfuckers in real life #stop invading lesbian spaces #lesbophobia #anti-lesboys #anti-male lesbians #this is just like the bi lesbian bull #men are not involved in lesbianism what's not fucking clicking #men dni #non-lesbians dni #terfs dni]

So, the core problem this person has with male lesbians is, it seems, that "male lesbians" are inherently predatory and "male lesbian" means forcing female lesbians to be attracted to men. They seem to equate "male lesbian" with "(cis) heterosexual man trying to assault or "fix" lesbian women."

Now, this is in contrast with the people who actually, in good faith (not as a joke) identify as male lesbians/lesboys. These people are commonly

Trans men who have transitioned but still identify as lesbians and are still active in the lesbian community, which has been a thing for decades- despite OP saying it's "chronically online". I would really love to see the reaction if you, in real life, punched an older lesbian trans man for existing in his community with his lesbian wife. Do you think people would be on your side?

Other trans* people who identify as lesbians while also being male in some way (for example, being multigender). I know the OP tries to carve out space for genderfluid/transmasc lesbians, but they still do so in a way that makes it clear that the only trans* people "allowed" to be lesbians are the ones who never actually identify as MEN. Just as a fun reminder to all us weird transes that we gotta make sure we never find ourselves too close to that line, or else we have to give up the labels we care for because The Cises have made it law.

These kinds of people have been identifying as lesbians for decades. Trans male lesbians have been well-documented. Male lesbians frequently find happy relationships with other lesbians who are aware of their gender identity. When you see someone calling themself a "male lesbian" or "lesboy", as an actual identity, it's much more likely they are a trans* person with a complex identity, and not a cishet guy making a stupid joke.

And yet, the OP of this post conflates male lesbians/lesboys with this idea of predatory straight men invading the community, not just through violence but through lies and deception. Men are "predators" who are "invading lesbian spaces" to "force themselves on lesbians" and "force lesbians to be attracted to men." Where have we heard this before?

If you took this post, and removed the comments on genderfluid and transmasc people, and the "terfs dni" at the very end, this would be EXTREMELY easy to read as a terf complaining about trans women who are lesbians. Obviously this person does not identify as a terf, and on some level cares about making that clear. Yet they have the same line of thinking: men cannot be lesbians, because men being lesbians is inherently harmful in itself. Men being lesbians inherently means men assaulting lesbians, no matter the actual person behind the label. Because OP is not thinking about male lesbians as people who are identifying that way out a genuine feeling of connection with the label and a desire for community... they must be doing it for nefarious reasons, because that's what males do.

And this person could hypothetically be a crypto-TERF, but I really don't think they are. I think this is a person who genuinely does not like TERFs, and wants to support trans women. They don't want to be a harmful person to people that they are supposed to support.

Yet, they are. Being a TERF or hating trans women, in progressive queer spaces, is a social faux pas, but hating men isn't. So for radical feminist ideology to take root, all it has to do is change "men" from "people assigned male at birth" to "anyone who identifies as a man", and then suddenly you have people who "hate TERFs" who agree wholeheartedly with TERF rhetoric. Because while they might be able to recognize that viewing trans women as predators in lesbian spaces is Wrong, they- and we as queer people in general- have not acknowledged as much how hatred of men is a foundational part of TERF transmisogyny.

So people will freely regurgitate TERF beliefs- men are inherently predatory and dangerous, and this is why men can't be lesbians, because allowing men in women's spaces puts them all in danger, so women must isolate themselves from men and any man who tries to enter a woman's space is a predator- but because they insist that they don't mean "trans women" when they say "men", they feel it's completely unrelated to radical feminism.

Also, notice the hatred to bi lesbians as well! It's almost like radical feminists don't like them very much either, for the same reason (lesbian spaces must be pure!!!!!)

#m. #lesboys #male lesbians #bi lesbians #transmisogyny #transandrophobia #antimasculism #exorsexism

[etherealyoungk]

yk ppl always write mingyu as confident and flirty and all, but i cant stop thinking abt him falling in love and being SO SO shy abt it, to the point he wants to hold op's hand but gets all flustered giving that nervous laugh that shows his pretty fangs until op finally notices what he wants and holds his hand, then he's just a blushing mess and wont stop smiling —thats how i see him at least. (not gonna mention his reaction when op kisses his cheek for the first time)

— 💫

helloo 💫anon! how have you been it's been a while! and i love this thought on mingyu aahhh

just mingyu having the biggest and fattest crush on you and just being SO shy about it and all bashful about it. he's so in love with you and just gets so nervous around you, fumbling his words and actions because the way you look at him just makes his heart race.

going on the first few dates with you would be so nerve-wracking for him and he'll just spend the entire evening figuring out what to wear to look good for you and styling his hair just because.

mingyu is just being a nervous mess when you show up wearing a pretty summer dress and he's just gaping at you and your smile telling him he looks pretty handsome himself, making him all shy again.

after going on a couple of dates, mingyu wants more - he wants to hold your hand like SO BAD. but he's just so shy about it and like just doesn't know how to go about it poor guy is having a whole life crisis because he doesn't know how to initiate holding hands without making it awkward.

and when he's walking you back home from the bus stop because it's getting dark and he absolutely insists. so you notice his hand brushing against yours and you look up at him as he lets out a nervous chuckle, asking you something. you realize what's happening and smile to yourself. you just take his hand in yours, holding it and mingyu stops talking as he looks at you, trying to hide the smile that eventually spreads across his face.

"if you wanted to hold hands you could have just told me", you say and he just can't stop smiling and is like "is this really happening". is so whipped literally will go to bed that night kicking his feet in the air and punching the pillow because you held his hand.

#im my mingyu delulu era #skye's writing #💫anon! #skye answers #☁️'s anon's #mingyu imagines #kim mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #mingyu scenarios #mingyu drabbles #kim mingyu fanfic #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu imagines #kim mingyu scenarios #seventeen soft hours #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen drabbles #svt fluff #svt fanfic #svt imagines

[cherrryxx]

“All is fair in love and war, but I can’t fight with you anymore,,”

(Song: Allies or enemies by The Crane Wives)

OP men and their reaction to an argument, where m!reader gets upset and avoids them.

Including: Mihawk, Kaku

Warnings: angst, m!reader, hurt/comfort, minor cursing, SPOILERS FOR WATER SEVEN/ENIES LOBBY

MIHAWK

- Only reason he would end up arguing with you is for doing something he specifically asked you not to, that could have resulted in you being hurt. Mayybeee also if you’re being too ignorant about things too.

“I said I was sorry! Nothing happened so it’s really not that serious!” You shout at Mihawk. He was agitated and ended up arguing with you after you had followed him into a particularly risky battle.

“Really? And what if I had cut you in half! I could have killed you, THEY would have killed you.” Mihawk snaps. He’s never raised his voice or talked to you with such an aggressive tone, and to be honest it scares you a bit.

As he continues to chew you out, belittling your own ability to stay alive, practically insulting your skills as he gives every reason that he wanted you to listen. You eventually snap.

“Mihawk I’m not a fucking child!” You shout.

And that’s when he realized how much he screwed up. He tried to quickly apologize,

“Look, love, I’m sorry, I know I was being a little har-“

But you were having none of it. You closed the door in the golden-eyed man’s face.

Throughout a week period, you avoided him. Mihawk respected it for the time being, but didn’t enjoy the fact that you treated his presence like a vile plague.

Eventually, he couldn’t stand it anymore, and cornered you in the library.

“I’m sorry, please. I know I can’t control everything you do, I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

It was the first time you’ve ever heard desperation in the warlord’s voice. You looked at him your eyes heavy with sorrow; and pulled him close to you.

“I’m sorry. I know you just wanted to protect me, I just want to show you that I can protect myself, though.”

KAKU

- Kaku would literally be too perfect in a relationship to do something that would cause an argument. Oh, besides the fact that he was a secret government agent that nearly assassinated your beloved mayor and friend. Excluding that.

You were furious with Kaku after learning of his betrayal in Water 7. Paulie and Iceburg felt obligated to tell you, especially since you were together for the past five years.

You cried through the next few weeks, only stopping to celebrate when you learned the strawhat crew had managed to get Nico Robin back, and escape relatively unscathed.

After the Luffy and his crew left Water 7 for good, you felt numbed inside. The person you had been with for the past five years worked for the government, and no less attempted to assassinate your close friend Iceburg.

One night, while you were in one of the back allies so you could dispose of your trash; there was a loud thud. You quickly turned around, spotting a tall figure in black clothes.

Instinctively, you grab the carving knife you always kept in your pocket.

“Who’s there!”

You demand, not letting your voice waver for a second.

But when the “stranger” lifted his head, your heart dropped.

“Kaku?” You croaked, your eyes welling up with tears.

“Hello.” He said, shifting awkwardly a few yards away from you.

Your sadness quickly flared up into anger as you remembered why he left in the first place.

“How could you do this, Kaku?!” You shouted, it felt like your voice was ripping through your throat as you spoke. “I trusted you, everyone trusted you!”

You couldn’t keep your tears from running down your face as sobs wracked your body.

You felt arms wrap around you warmly, pulling you close.

“I’m so sorry, honey, please,” Kaku’s voice cracked as he spoke, “I didn’t want to, please believe me. I didn’t. I just don’t have a choice anymore.”

You cried, hitting and punching at his chest. Kaku took the hits sucking in through his teeth as he held back tears.

“Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry my dear.” He choked out.

You grip his arms roughly, your hands shaking with the gesture.

“I forgive you.”

#fanfiction #lgbtqia+ #mlm thoughts #one piece fandom #fanfic #one piece fluff #fanfiction writer #one piece #one piece fanfiction #writing #op angst #mlm fanfic #op fanfic #mlm #angst with a happy ending #kaku x reader #mihawk x male reader #Kaku x male reader #m!reader #op x male reader #op kaku #kaku one piece #dracule mihawk #male reader #one piece x male reader #op menn #one piece fanfic #angst #fanfic writing #mlm yearning

[lovejosephquinn]

Lana... how about getting handsy (or mouthy 😏) with Joey under the signing table at a con... or like maybe in a back room? He's been busy doing his thing all day and you just CANNOT wait until back at the hotel. Thots?

Living for this and have been since 2am this morning when I was up punching walls from content, dreaming about where to go with this, I'M READY.

This one is dedicated to @munsonsgirl71 (thank you for this delicious req) and to one of my main bby's @joejoequinnquinn just because 👀

Everyone was clueless as to why Joe was late to begin autographs at the Fan Expo. He'd asked for 10 more minutes of privacy with you to the staff before you had to go away for a little whilst he worked. With nothing but a smile and a brief nod looking back, they closed the curtain behind them that sheltered him to have his little moment with you. You sat in the chair facing to the side so that you could get a proper look at your man, his eyes bore into yours longingly, purely from a text he'd sent literally all of an hour ago to you before he began the photo op's which read:

'Can't wait to get my hands on you later, baby.'

You needed no other information, it kept you going in the unspoken promise shown on your phone yet the heat between your legs was fighting not to have his hands all over you right there and then. He moved in to give you a sweet kiss, one that screamed that he'd missed you when he only saw you a couple of hours ago, it didn't matter how many times you'd felt his mouth move onto yours, every move Joe made on you was like the first.

Watching his eyes sparkle the way they did when he fluttered them open to just take you in for a second, you bit down on your lip and moved round to sit on the chair properly, proceeding to look down under the table, watching the space and the way Joe's legs were spread, his leg twitching uncontrollably.

"You alright babe?" You giggled, resting your hand onto his thigh to stop it moving.

"Just a little nervous, it doesn't matter if I've done this quite a few times now, I'm still anxious about it." An imaginary light bulb pinged at the top of your head, you always knew how to relax him but you also knew how to rile him up, there were no two ways about it. You slipped underneath the table, kneeling between his legs as he watched downward to find your hands busy, unbuttoning his trousers, pulling at his zipper in an overly eager manner. "What're you doing Y/N, what if we get caught?"

You smirked at him. "There's a black cloth in between me and the space of that curtain Joe, I'm going to give you a reason to relax. You've just got to be quiet." The noise echoing in the building told you that if he did slip a few whimpers, it wouldn't be such a bad thing, nobody would hear the delicious sounds that were reserved just for you. Joe adhered to your reply, pushing himself up so that you could move them, releasing his already solid erection in one swift motion.

"Baby, you're so fucking naughty." Joe purred as he watched you take his cock into your mouth, taking nothing but the tip which throbbed onto your tongue, his entire body quivered under your touch as he gripped the side of his chair, his lips parting when your muscle stroked the spot just between his length and head.

"And you taste so fucking good." You groaned.

You kept taking inch by inch in, sucking harshly against him, weak groans falling from his lips making you look up through the little slit where you could just see his head tipping back. You quickened the process, wrapping your fist around the thickness just to the base and jerked along with your mouth's movement, twisting your wrist in a motion you knew drove him insane.

"Fuck yes, choke on my cock." Joe was putty in your hands, figuratively speaking. You removed your hand and pushed yourself as far as you could go, earning a stifled choke from both you and his throat when his tip touched the back of your tonsils. Tears begging to escape when you repeated the process a few times, your hand now cupped against his balls, squeezing lightly to bring him close to the edge. The excitement and adrenaline of possibly being able to get caught was too much, you almost did when Joe saw the curtain move. You noticed him squirm and tap onto your head when a member of staff poked their head through the curtain. You continued to suck slowly, edging him to let them know he was going to be a little longer.

"Are you almost- Oh has she gone? We didn't see her leave." They said.

"Yeah just a little longer please, need a drink and a quick smoke if you don't mind, nerves and all that jazz." Joe flashed a unconvincing and tight smile, hoping they'd not see the way his lip was practically drawing blood from keeping the moan that longed to seep out of him.

"No problem!" They grinned. "I'll let everyone know you'll be another 10, they'll wait." Joe nodded like he'd just got whip lash, flashing a flustered grin, the hitch of his breath making his lips part when you danced your tongue around his tip, fucking your hand against his length.

"OooooKAY." Joe yelped.

They flashed the curtain shut and Joe relaxed instantly, the moan that he'd held in crashed out in a low, gravelly tone. "You're such a slut, I'm going to fuck you so hard later for doing this, you're not going to stop me when you've had enough either, I'll keep going." The vibration of your moan from his threat had him leaking more than he'd ever done. "Suck more, I want you to fucking go for it love."

You did as he requested, saliva dribbling down your chin as you used his cock, sucking as hard and fast as you could, squeezing onto his balls tighter, teeth grazing against his shaft lightly. Solid whimpers were heard clearly by you when Joe bucked his hips into your mouth, thrusting forward to give you every inch, he saw his end after you completely deepthroated him, your tongue able to touch at his ball sack when he spewed his seed down your throat, his toes curling and his head launching backwards; maybe letting out a louder, borderline pornographic noise than he'd intended to.

"Yes, yes, yes. Take my cum you cockhungry slut." Joe breathed out the almost angry words which sung to you like a beautiful melody.

You slipped back up from underneath the table, wiping the back of your hand over your lips. Joe had no time to clean up the wetness you'd created all over his cock so he lifted back to readjust himself, zipping up and buttoning his trousers back, his body still shuddering from the sensitive shocks that his softening cock was presenting.

"You'll be the death of me my darling. But you've really got to go now because they think, well I hope they think that you already have gone." You gave him a brief kiss, allowing him to taste himself on your lips, slowly and softly pulling away, he shook at his head at you, gulping his spit down. He felt fucking lucky.

"How are you going to get out of here unnoticed?" Joe laughed worriedly.

You moved over to the right side of the curtain since it was the most quiet and pointed to the opening where you could crawl right underneath. "I'll see you after gorgeous." Joe mouthed an I love you and shortly after you disappeared stealthily, it helped you were small so you could escape like a little mouse.

You moved outside to twiddle your thumbs for a bit after you'd been sat in a little room for an hour with a drink and some snacks that were offered to you by some of the staff members, relaxing and patiently waiting for him to finish up. Hearing loud excitement and applause when Joe was leaving the building, eyeing at the side of the glass doors that he was walking to, people filming him as he blew kisses directly at his fans, smiling away; his work done for the day.

You leaned against the brick wall when he moved through the exit, giving him the most innocent and content look at his side profile, his face beamed from the little memory of his meet and greet. "Have fun?" You grinned, catching him in his thoughts.

Joe noticed your voice before he saw you, moving his head in the direction where it came from and happily sauntered over to you, dropping the bag he had in his hand and wrapping his arms around you, his fingers soothing the small of your back as he whispered "Yes but I missed you after that little escape."

You reciprocated the embrace, your hands moving down to cop a feel of his ass, making him move back but not completely out of your grasp as you gave it a light squeeze.

"I believe it was me that said I couldn't wait to get my hands on you." Joe winked at you and you melted, it didn't matter who he was to you, he had a way of looking at you so intensively that you couldn't help but give into him, his warm eyes and simply beautiful grin did it for you, made you fall in love with your man over and over again, not just love pure lust filled your heat, excited for what was to come, you knew he'd fulfil his promise. His hands came down cupping at your ass, tapping it lightly, joining the way yours were still grasping at his.

"Actions speak louder than-"

He pushed you up against the brick wall, coming in and kissing you hot, his tongue writhing around yours, his bulge beginning to painfully ache against his clothing which pressed into you. He'd proved his point. He moved back to take a look at you from head to toe, huffing a sigh. "Can't wait to see how sticky those panties are from what you did earlier. I already know you're soaking."

Your thighs clenched together knowing he was very much right. Taking a hold of your hand, you walked down the little hidden lane to a car that was waiting to take you back to the hotel. Just as you were about to get in, he opened the door slight before moving down to whisper in your ear, not being to help himself acting on the words he'd already said. "I'm going to fucking rail your cunt till you scream for me baby, you're in for it."

#joseph quinn fan fiction #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn x reader #josephquinn #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn character #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x fem!reader #joseph quinn x female reader #joseph quinn x plus size reader #joe quinn blurb #joe quinn angst #joe quinn fluff #joe quinn x y/n #joe quinn x you #joe quinn smut #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn #joe quinn x reader #joe quinn x fem!reader #joe quinn x fem!reader smut #joseph quinn blurb #joseph quinn rpf #joseph quinn x y/n #joe quinn rpf #chocolate button eyes

[zmediaoutlet]

Three hundred miles under the big sky, Red Lodge to Miles City and then out of Montana to Bowman. Gas at a dingy co-op, half garage and half store. Sam sits on the trunk waiting for the nozzle to click and watches Dean go to the payphone by the dusty propane display, watches him dial. Give whatever performance he feels like. His shoulders hunched up under his coat. Not that cold today but he's still wearing it.

Sam stretches his sneakers out in the gravel. Another car pulls in by the store. Older lady, hair a flash of silver when the afternoon sun gleams over it, giving Dean a weird look that he returns with a broad screw you smile when he comes back from the phone. No wonder. His face is all over bruises, like someone used him as a punching bag. Not far off.

"They going to get him?" Sam says. He takes the Coke when Dean hands it over. Glass bottles, what a time warp.

Dean finishes swigging down half of his own bottle, burps contentedly. "Cops'll find Gordon sitting in his own stank," he says, ignoring Sam's wrinkled nose. He lifts a shoulder. "Or he got out, and they'll find whatever's left in that creepy house. Blood and all. We should've left him to stew longer."

Sam drags his thumb over the glass rim before he takes a sip. Sharp caramel, freezing cold. He can't imagine Gordon getting caught. Too competent, too—vicious, effective. Sam resented the comparison to Dad but it wasn't—all that far off. Except where it really mattered.

"Just glad we don't have to deal with it," Sam says. Dean half-nods. Looking off into nothing, rubbing the edge of his cut lip. Somewhere else. "What?"

The nozzle clicks. Dean blinks. Hands his bottle to Sam and deals with the pump while Sam spins the gas cap back into place. He expects Dean to come back around to the driver side but he sits on the trunk next to Sam, instead, stretches his boots out to match Sam, his face pointed vaguely at the store but his eyes—three hundred miles in the rearview? Or further?

"Wasn't—a replacement," Dean says. Sam has no idea what he means, until he does. He bites the inside of his cheek. Dean glances at him to make sure he follows and then dips his chin, looks at the tips of his boots instead. "That wasn't it. Don't wanna get in a fight. But you—?"

"I get it," Sam says. Which is true, kinda. He half-wishes he hadn't said anything except that at least that fight had gotten Dean to crack, at least a little, from this awful manic fakery he's been dealing with, ever since they left the hospital with a body they had to burn and the weight of the world no lighter.

Dean nods, still staring at his boots. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets. Sam isn't sure Dean got it, particularly. How something could be a substitute not for the physical fact but for the feeling. There was no replacing Dad, not at all, but what Dad meant, that fog of expectations and received wisdom and a way of looking at the world, black and white, right and wrong—but then, Gordon wasn't that, quite, either. No matter how much Sam had strained against and fought with and sometimes hated their dad, he never, ever suspected him of—

"I don't know how he could do that," Dean says. Like it's pushing past some thickness, shoved out of his throat. "His sister. How could he."

"I mean, I messed up your Stones tape back in Milwaukee and you said you were going to kill me," Sam tries, but Dean just closes his eyes, a muscle in his jaw flexing. He licks his lips, drags his heels in. "I don't know. Drove him crazy, I guess. Couldn't see past the monster stuff to what mattered, you know?"

Dean shakes his head, drags a hand over his face. Flinches because he caught his bruises, the idiot. Sam transfers both Coke bottles to one hand and catches Dean's wrist, pulls it down, and Dean huffs and then looks at him sideways. God, he's tired. Sam looks at the store, through the grimed glass windows—the old lady's with the clerk at the counter, and no one else is around—and he takes the opportunity he wishes he'd had earlier and pulls Dean closer and kisses him. Very careful, closed-lipped against the hurt mouth. Dean's lips part anyway and there's the smell of Coke and the smell of blood and Sam breathes deep and then pulls back. Dean's eyes wide like that was the last thing he expected. Where has he been, Sam thinks, but he thinks it very fondly, and then he thinks that, god, he needs sleep, too. Ten straight hours preferably, in a motel room with blackout shades, his body plastered against Dean's and the two of them waking together. Knowing what matters.

Dean licks his lower lip. Looking like maybe he wants the same thing, or at least something close enough they can compromise. "Give me my Coke back," he says. Pink-eared. Sam smiles at him and carries both over to the passenger seat, with Dean bitching about, hey, who bought what for who, squatters rights ain't it. And so on. The day's bright, and brighter. The sky huge. Dean reaches over and steals Sam's bottle while they're pulling back out onto the highway and almost crashes the car, sets Sam laughing enough that he snorts Coke out his nose. "Can't take you anywhere," Dean says, affecting dignity. No, Sam thinks. He's nothing at all like Gordon.

#happy wincest wednesday #my writing #ww lottery #a random ficlet for episode 25 #when you think about what john told dean in 2.01 #it's honestly a surprise dean didn't behead gordon right then #happily sam takes his own revenge #also coke out your nose HURTS do not recommend

[throwaway-yandere]

"O Capo! My Capo!" (Yandere Mafia!Cyno, Tignari, and Alhaitham/Reader)

A/n: This township is turning into a real clownship– I definitely do NOT dedicate this to my irl friends, ya jerks /j.

Unreliable Synopsis: The Innamorati Familia might have lost almost everything, but their Capo stands tall. Just how long will you survive under 3 pairs of scrutinizing eyes? (Mafia!au. Visions do not exist.)

CW: yandere, (some) religious themes, possible major character deaths, mentions of recreational drugs, guns, etc.

YOUR CHOICES MATTER. YOU CAN VOTE FOR WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.

Next Chapter

—---

[Year 192X]

"(Y/n)!!!"

At first, you were convinced you were living the Khaenri'ahn Dream. With your youthful yet crime-greased hands, you have fought hard to earn your keep as the Innamorati's current Capo– to earn yourself a family for yours to protect inside Teyvat's ruthless underworld. And family you did keep. Until candles waned like silenced hostages. Until a conspiracy pursued what little faith in humanity you had left.

Until you held your underboss' charred face and lifeless body. Until his sizzling arm burned your hand. Until flakes of Dimitri's skin powdered your fingers like charcoal pencil shavings.

The Innamorati Headquarters burned. And so too did most of your men.

"(Y/n)! Stand back– Think about your men! Would they want you to do this?! You won't save anyone there– not like this!!!"

Looking back, the Khaenri'ahn Dream lied. There was no joy in hustling but you did live an empty yet freeing life. Khaenri'ah preached about humanity and its opportune happiness, yet spoke none about how fleeting it could be once the curtains caught fire. Perhaps that very notion fooled you into believing that your idyllic lifestyle won't be snatched away easily. 

The ghosts of those who perished in the manor's basement have sought their final repose on the embers that incinerated your endeavors.

Everything was terribly loud. Many people fled into the murky haze. The square was virtually deserted as people fled for their lives, but you refused to leave. This trait used to be a quality that helped you survive the syndicate, but those damn fascist conspirators turned it against you.

Tartaglia pulled you close.

"VAFFANCULO, TARTAGLIA– LET ME FUCKING GO!"

"NOT UNTIL YOU CALM THE FUCK DOWN!!!"

You stilled, and a single heavy tear left your eye. 

This is more than a mite unfair. Everything you labored for, every drop of blood you shed, every vice you committed, what was it all for? Visconti Diluc was right. You're a liar and a murderer undeserving of joy. Maybe this was the retribution he ranted aimlessly about.

You took fast and drastic measures in your rise to the top, and your opponents rightfully did the same to pull you back down.

Tartaglia watched as you writhe in agony knowing that you couldn't escape from his restrictive embrace. He never thought he'd see you appear more pathetic than when Pulcinella first picked you off the streets. Nonetheless, he felt your pain. You both led groups under the same parent organization. You are family. 

To him, this was worse than accompanying his widowed sibling to their spouse's funeral.

"… My men, they're…"

You fell into deep thought.

Lyudochka, Kazari, Teppei, Viktor… 

You gritted your teeth.

Viktor… 

That damn brat didn't even get his chance to shift jobs… That brat still hadn't left this hellhole…

Based on the Khaenri'ahn Dream, all citizens must have an equal opportunity to achieve success through determination and pure grit…

You bit your lip down, drawing blood. In truth, you can't discern whether or not the blood came from your lips or your throat.

"DAMN IT." 

Your white-knuckled hand shakily punched your thigh, feeling morbidly powerless.

Viktor said he wouldn't allow himself to die as a lowly servant… 

What happened to those dreams now…?

You were so close. You were so close to taking all those fascists down. So why now?!

Tartaglia frowned. He had never seen you act like this– your anger is usually impulsive, but sharp and silent. Your fury simmers until you slice the catalyst open. Never come a time you lashed out like a feral animal as you do now.

"GET IT TOGETHER!!!"

Tartaglia shot you a piercing stare as he slapped you, and you finally reigned yourself in.

This is too pitiful. 

Fire surrounded everyone, but you remained frozen by your own dialed-up emotions.

Slowly, he trusted that he could let you go.

"... Ekaterina, send in our men. We'll try to extinguish this mess as much as we can."

"Of course Capo, right away."

You held back your sobs as your knees fell to the floor, where your right-hand man's corpse lay as if he did not struggle in his miserable death.

The last time you talked to him, you called him a worthless coward who couldn't make choices without you. Pain seared through your chest. No one wants that to be their last conversation with their closest confidant. 

A bloodcurdling scream rang out across the square, but you scarcely moved from your seat. You're too numb to notice who was behind that familiar voice. It was just another body that couldn't be mourned.

Your eyes focused on Dimitri's corpse instead.

You were planning to apologize after you cleared your head this morning, but what use are words to those who have already left this world? He's gone.

Fallen, cold and dead.

This is by no means the first time you've seen your men die– you had some of the deceased's blood wet your Sunday clothes– but you hope this unforgettable foul scent of burned flesh will be the last time you'll breathe it in. You're already acclimated to the metallic stench of blood; you don't need to ingrain this into your mind as well.

You passed out.

It was only when you closed your mouth did you realize, it was you who cried your lungs out the whole time.

—-----

The church bells rang. 

It was 10 AM, and the mass was inching to a close but the priest passionately ignored the echoes of the bell and the mafiasos' groans.

"Is it too early to booze?" Tartaglia whispered in your ear. His yawning proved that he was bored to tears. You did your best in stopping your eyes from rolling.

Unlike Tartaglia, your aura exudes dignity, something he needed the most. When you two sit together, you both appear akin to a comedy act. The usually bloodthirsty Tartaglia transforms into a guileless little brother and your all-forgiving eyes turn endearingly annoyed when paired together. The same scenario was applied this morning.

"Tartaglia, look around you. Does this look like the right time?" You vaguely gestured at the ongoing sermon, not meeting his gaze.

"Geez. Why do we even bother with this?"

"Because even though we are nothing but lowly sinners, we must honor our Tsaritsa's benevolence."

There are 6 Archons revered by the church, and they correspond to six different regions and cities inside the nation of Teyvat. You're an immigrant from outside the country– an agnostic nation– but you're smart enough to pay respects.

"Right, right. I guess even if I asked that ten more times you'd still reply with a generic answer."

You passive-aggressively whispered back. "Maybe if your questions were worth my time I'd elaborate on my answers as well."

"Capo–"

You and Tartaglia turned around. The Fatui mob, one of yours who just got there, nervously sat up straight.

"Capo (Y/n)."

Tartaglia sank back to the pews, no longer caring. The second capo's lack of attention eased the grunt's audience-based apprehension. Their sheer trust in your credibility made you smirk. While you seemed cold, everyone in Snezhnaya knew you weren't.

You recalled how back then these words sounded alien to you but these terms are salient in the scenes. Having recruited predominantly Snezhnayan workers, you had to get used to their way of living. You wanted to foster good interpersonal relationships with your men, and there's no better approach to reach their hearts than religion in the 1920s. And by the looks of it, they seem to trust your carefully crafted sterling reputation.

You always do your job as if you're running out of time, and they put your faith in you like a farmer would a fleeting summer. With some effort, everyone was convinced they'd fall apart without your guidance.

The grunt looked at you with respect.

"Boss Dimitri delivered one very confidential info."

"I see…" You steadied yourself. "Excuse me then, Tar–"

He snatched your sleeve. Tartaglia considered removing your iconic stovepipe hat, but you don't wear it to church. He opted for the second most annoying choice.

"Hey, you can't leave me here. Don't I have every right to be in the know? Gaaahh, cut me some slack. We've practically been siblings for more than half a decade now, (Y/n). Can't you tell your fratello anything?"

"Why are you interested?"

"Cause I'm curious if it's finally time that your familia will collaborate with other factions for once."

You shook your head and sat back down. He's right.

Three major criminal organizations control the small nation of Teyvat, namely the Fatui, Akademiya, and the Adepti. You and Tartaglia are Capos or Harbingers of the former, which had the most control of Snezhnaya. 

Based on your history, you don't mingle with other organizations outside Snezhnaya a lot. You had dealings with Ningguang and the Qixing before, but never their parent organization overseas which resides in Liyue. 

It just so happens that Tartaglia is bolder than you are. The kid has his headquarters stationed in another province, Liyue. That province isn't far from his hometown since Teyvat is a small country but he complains like a confederate soldier. Most of what Tartaglia talks your ear out is about missing home despite finding fuses of excitement in Liyue enticing anyways. You've heard many stories from him regarding how ruthless Adepti's Prime leader, Morax, is, but that's not your problem. 

The Akademiya, however, keeps to themselves. You know close to nothing about them. Snezhnaya may be the heart of trades, but the Fatui cannot tap into Sumeru's supply of canned knowledge. And you quite frankly don't give a shit about what they do. They're not the best at masking their spies.

"Speak."

"Capo, the underboss wanted to inform you that he had already figured out who the mole is."

"Oh?" You and Tartaglia spoke simultaneously.

You'd been looking for a spy among your ranks for quite some time. This mysterious mole was sending information back to Focalor, the self-proclaimed Hydro Archon better known as "Il Duce" around these parts. The braggart with a God complex promised the public that she'll drive mafiosos out of Teyvat, and she's working everyone to the bone for it. Politicians either play yes men or get on your nerves. She's the latter.

Nevertheless, you did not expect Dimitri to deliver results that fast. Bitterly, you thought about how apologizing for him later would look less genuine now that he proved himself worthy. You didn't mean to call your underboss useless– you just couldn't control your temper.

May the Archons forgive your transgressions.

You hope he'd forgive you once you get back.

"... Carry on, Felix."

"Yes, of course. The fascist conspirator is Professor Tighnari, the informant."

You snapped your head back to meet the grunt's face, bewildered.

"... What?"

"FIRE!!! THE PLAZA IS ON FIRE!!!"

One of the church's orphans– Barbara– was screaming by the door, frantically stripped of breath and her chords sounded hoarse, unlike her singing. Her weak legs barely counted as a support for her body as she toppled on the marble tiles. The groceries she carried splashed down, and some fruits rolled in your direction. Your people helped her stand up while some picked up her things for her, but the poor thing shivered like a leaf.

Barbara had always been a sister to you. Having been separated from your family at a young age as well, you two link like two peas in a pod. She relied on you like a quiet strong big sister while you protected her and the other children from street conflicts.

You stood up and calmly patted her shoulder, squeezing lightly. You gave her a gentle smile.

"My dear Barbara– take deep breaths."

She yanked your chest.

"Capo!" 

Barbara began to tear up.

"It's your mansion, Capo!!! YOUR MANSION IS ON FIRE!!!"

—-------

You jolted up drenched in cold sweat.

"You're awake…"

You don't know whose voice you were expecting, but that voice was intuitively not one of them. The barren room you woke up in wasn't yours, and it's certainly not Tartaglia's manor. Considering the unfortunate events that just took place, it's foolish to think you'd wake up inside the safety of your manor. Instinctively, you reached for your holster and found it empty. 

The man stepped into the light. You have a hunch on who this was. He wore a black-purple stole, vest, and strap combination, an attire you'd often see on a Sunday, yet donned a shabby brown hat on top of his silky white locks. 

The stranger stared at you blankly. 

"You're a disciple." You claimed.

Aside from the three mafia organizations, the Church had the superior upper hand when it came to crowd control. Nothing moves Teyvat's heart like guides and philosophies. That being said, the Church isn't afraid to get its hands filthy. They are fully aware that conversation will not solve all problems, and there is an unsaid fact that their relationship with the Fatui is far from antagonistic.

And as Capo, you're one of their most devoted patrons. The organization you belong to is filled with devotees, and have often carried out whatever mission the church wishes. Honestly, you think that the Church's fondness for the Fatui should already be a telltale sign that the Archons are nothing more than a statue made of ice.

But you shouldn't think this way. It's peculiar– romantic, even– that what saved you from the fire was your near half-hearted devotion to attending Sunday masses. To be honest, you attend partly because you want to dress to the nines. You don't know how to feel about that.

Their Holiness saved you from the embers, you can atone for your sins by suffering. And that's what this stranger is here for.

"That's correct." He said. "I work for the Sumeru Church. I was instructed to look after you until they help you renovate your manor and the panetteria beside it. That is, of course, assuming you still pass the requirements of being Innamorati's Capo."

This person did not bother easing you into things, and instead bluntly reminded you that your house and men– your home is gone. 

You breathed in shakily.

Dimitri is gone…

"...You have my gratitude."

On the bright side, at least your go-to place for lunch will be back after a while. That is if Signorina Xiangling survived and the church won't abandon you.

"Don't worry, we flame to please. I'm sure our architect Kaveh was stoked to receive such a large-scale commission."

…

"I'm sorry– were you joking at a time like this?"

"Was it not funny? Hah. I think it's hysterical. Oh, would you like for me to explain it?" He didn't ask in a patronizing tone, he spoke as if you didn't have the mental capacity to know what a joke is. Which was honestly more insulting.

You didn't laugh, and he didn't apologize.

You've heard about how church officials have a clear lack in the humor department before, but you didn't take into account that they may very well be this socially inept. Which is rich, coming from you. Your transgressions weigh more than a bad joke executed at a funeral.

With a mastered poker face, you pretended that his slights did not affect you.

He extended his arm out for a handshake.

"Cyno, the former Aaru Village priest. I now work as an inquisitor." Cyno coughed, cheeks turning slightly red. "I didn't change your clothes i-in case you find it uncomfortable."

Sounds like he finds it uncomfortable instead.

His behavior perfectly lines up with his claims. The way he dressed alone encapsulates the aura of a man who used to devote himself to holy sanctums. Some minor details made it clear he's no longer part of the main clergy– that being his choker and numerous ear piercings. 

You took his hand. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm (Y/n), the Innamorati Familia's Cap–"

You cringed.

"I'm… I'm just (Y/n)."

"Humble, just (Y/n)." Cyno nodded solemnly.

"No, not humble. Defeated."

"I know."

…

…

"Feel free to cry. I won't pass judgment over people expressing normal human emotions."

You laughed humorlessly. "Sure you won't."

Cyno grabbed the plate on the table and passed it on. "Calzone?"

You scoffed.

Admittedly, the food looked appetizing and its rich fragrance made your stomach perceive its emptiness. You trust the church, but no. Your pride would kill you for chewing food down with abandon. The only person you could eat savagely with was Barbara, and Lord knows how the poor girl is holding up. Thankfully your stomach didn't make any noise despite the pain of hunger being a treacherous one.

"I guess not." He awkwardly put it back down.

You inspected your clothes. Your once proud Prussian blue polo shirt reeked of ashes and sundered threads. Still, in a bit of a daze, you squinted.

"... Where's my coat?"

Cyno's gaze sharpened. 

"I disposed of it." He spat. "You should be more alert. Someone planted a recording device on your person."

Cyno spoke in a tone that implied he knew who this person was personally, and you're inclined to think the same. You bit your bottom lip at your own seemingly minuscule mistake, opening a minor wound.

"Cazzo."

It's possible that Tighnari was the one to plant it. You let him hold your coat for a moment when you changed into your Sunday attire. That audacity of that fucking bastard.

He must've set the bomb off when he heard Nicola.

"Testa di cazzo– quel fottuto figlio di puttana." You cursed lowly.

Professor Tighnari. That man will soon find his skin flayed and draped on the walls of your basement chambers once it's rebuilt.

You'll kill everyone that fox ever loved.

You'll find his family and wave their heads on a pike right in front of his chained weeping face. You'll claw the skin off their faces and rip their fingernails and limbs apart–

"(Y/n)?"

You can no longer comprehend your emotions. Inside, you are a cacophony of both forced indifference and uncontrollable spite– a contradictory pair yet one that matches how you felt towards the loss of your men and the professor's betrayal. 

Slowly but surely, you saw red.

Not expecting that you would stand up, Cyno pushed you back to bed. He looked both worried yet unimpressed by your foul mouth.

"You're not supposed to leave yet."

You tried to gently pry him off, not wanting to offend the church's lackeys, but he was stronger than expected. Cyno planted you back down on the mattress. His left hand was beside your head and his face hovered above yours.

This irritated you. 

You don't have much time left.

He continued. "Tomorrow, you work. Today, you rest up. Your people are with Capo Tartaglia and they're not going anywhere. If you need anything– food, water– anything at all, be sure to ring the bell. My ears are sharp. Remember, the Military Police are tailing you and the last of your men."

The Military Police? So it's Focalor's people, huh? That damn governor just won't let up, won't she? If you had nothing left to lose you would've painted her office wall with her brain matter, pronto. But you still have some reasons to continue living.

The last of your men… 

Hah. Of course. You have to live for those that survived. After all, if you weren't an incompetent fucking boss you'd still have everyone in one piece.

You're so sick of this.

"May I ask who exactly reached out to help? I doubt the church would waste church funds on a low-ranked Fatui Capo such as myself."

The inquisitor averted his gaze, his brows furrowed. Cyno hid his face behind his hand, murmuring the response meekly. You don't have the best hearing—the sounds of gunshots were bound to dull your senses—and you imagined he gave a monosyllabic response.

"...e."

"My apologies, mind repeating that?"

Cyno stiffened.

"You don't need to know who. What matters is that you're safe now, and an official willingly went through signing paperwork for your manor."

"And based on your tone of voice, I assume that that official is you."

He turned his head indignantly.

"Believe what you want to believe."

Cyno's reply was a telltale sign that this conversation will go nowhere. You sighed.

"... I don't need food, but do you have cigars?"

He scrunched his nose. 

"No wonder your breath smells awful nowadays." He muttered before pulling away.

Despite his insulting observation, he pulled out a box of Cuban cigars from his pocket. Quite hypocritical that he complained about bad breath when he had some too. He lit up your cigar.

"Thanks, but last time I checked this was our first time meeting." You have no particular opinion on Cohiba's cigars but this is the best you'll get at the moment. Beggars can't be choosers. "Thanks again."

Cyno ignored you both times and he was already by the door. "Please rest up. I've left some calzone, water, painkillers, and tissues for you on the table. Try not to leave the vicinity."

He exited the room.

You closed your eyes as your hand reached for your bleeding mouth. You're relatively unscathed from the incident, which means Cyno knows something about your "condition." 

You chuckled.

Painkillers and tissues, huh? There's no better cure than that, and your time would run out before the world would find a better one.

—----

Cigars were not enough. 

Inquisitor Cyno likely already knew that he can't keep you here for much longer, but he didn't do anything when you escaped. He did say "try not to leave" and not "do not leave", didn't he?

Cyno claimed his ears are sharp– so you guess he just didn't care at all.

As a result, you left your room and went for a walk around the neighborhood. That doesn't mean you can leave Sumeru City, but a stroll is always pleasant. The room Cyno offered was neither spacious nor cramped, but if you started digging holes in their ugly wallpaper, you doubt the church would take it lightly.

You staggered out of the chapel and entered the slums, reminding yourself that Dimitri is dead. You need to find someone worthy enough to become the next underboss. The church will not recognize you as the Capo without one, therefore they won't help rebuild the manor should you fail this task.

Hungry and out of breath, you leaned against the unscrubbed walls of an abandoned antique store, arms folded, taking in your surroundings. You were exhausted, arms sprawled against the wall.

The people behaved too jaded to be Natlan yet too reserved to be Snezhnaya– hence, you safely assumed that you were in the Avidya-Rainforest district. This place, despite lack of funds, was still under the church's watchful eye. A holy sanctum of sorts. This meant dealings are prohibited and no one would want to be caught with a glint in their eyes.

It's fascinating how much their cultures differ for a country as small as Teyvat. The same cannot be said for Khaenri'ah. Your compatriots have only known a capitalistic grind in search of an unattainable dream. A money-obsessed country does little to preserve its customs and culture. And you were the same empty machine till La Signora took you in.

You yawned while covering your mouth, appearing vulnerable.

But of course, you didn't charge into an unknown location unarmed. You knocked out one of the Inquisitor's soldiers and seized his pistol. "For security reasons", you'd argue. Once again, Cyno likely knew about that but didn't bother acting, again. You're too tired to judge his work approach, and you could barely keep your eyes open.

Till you caught a sliver of green pass you by.

"Oh! You smell funny. Are you the Capo, (Y/n) (L/n)?"

You lazily looked up.

"Umm, hello?"

You gazed down. 

It's a kid. Hunger is starting to take its toll on you as you mistook her high pitch voice for an adult your size. The child, around age 5, had green hair and scraped knees. 

You're certain that she wouldn't snitch about how you left your room unguarded.

"Need something?"

"Yeah, um, I just wanna say my condolences."

You ruffled her hair. "Thanks, bambini."

She beamed.

Sadly, the kid must've mistaken this as a go signal for her to continue talking. She balled her hand into a fist and nervously cheered for you.

"I-It'll be alright, Capo. You can always make new friends! I believe in you!"

"Hmm."

"I never thought I'd ever be able to make friends but I did last month! I also met my master that time and maybe I can share some of my good luck with you!"

"Hmm."

"Are… Are you listening?"

"J-Just a little fatigued." You stifled a yawn. "Why don't you play along with your new friends, little…"

"Oh, right! I'm Collei!"

"Little Collei." You coughed, and you skillfully wiped the blood away without her knowing. "Bambini, you shouldn't talk to people like me, it's dangerous. Why don't you run along and go back to your friends now?"

"Well, I can't yet because he told me not to because he's busy right now."

"Who told you that?"

Collei smiled widely.

"Professor Tighnari!"

You froze, slowly recalling your resolve. 

It felt like the world froze for a brief moment as if the few people in the vicinity halted for you to catch up on what the little girl confessed. 

"...Tighnari?"

"Hmm, hmm!"

"And you're close to him?" You muttered.

You'll kill everyone that fox ever loved. 

Your fingers subconsciously slithered to your holster. 

That's what you decided moments prior. 

You glared down menacingly.

"Capo…?"

But a kid?

"... Is something wrong?"

You turned your apathetic gaze back at her. You're not even sure just how much this child meant to Tighnari. She might as well just be as insignificant as a pebble on a shore. But–

The gun you stole from the church guards is with you. It's light in your hands.

The light in your eyes dimmed.

"Hello?"

It has three bullets loaded.

There are only 2 other people outside the streets, both of which are teenage civilians. Taking her out would be as easy as–

"Hey, please cheer up!!!"

The child shook you, dragging you out of your trance. Little Collei appeared distressed because of your lack of reactions. You blinked a couple of times, making yourself mentally present, before pinching your forehead. Her lips are curled downward and her eyes match her cute frown, and you were grimly reminded of what you had tried to commit.

You cursed under your breath.

You're disappointed in yourself.

This is a child. A child of the church, no less. She likely had nothing to do with whatever it is Tighnari had planned. 

"You're thinking of sad thoughts too, aren't you? Don't do that! You'll only feel bad–"

"Bambini."

"Yes?"

"How many friends do you have?"

"Oh. I have two!" 

She cheerfully raised three fingers. 

"I have two friends! Amber and Tighnari!!!"

Because of her clear enthusiasm, you refrained from correcting her hand. Instead, you patted her head with a heavy conscience.

But are you wrong for thinking this way?

An eye for an eye…

You knelt at her height.

Your strained smile reached her ignorant eyes. "That sounds wonderful. I have– I had two best friends too. Can I be your third friend?"

"Really?!"

"Of course. I think optimistic people like you are reeaaally cool!" You lied between your teeth.

And one kid's death won't satisfy a worthy tribute for your fallen men. One child is not enough. 

You need to find more just like her.

"Hehe, thank you! But Amber's the coolest! I want to be like big sis Amber when I grow up!"

"Is that so? Well– I hope to hear more from you as you grow older. I'm sure you'll be the girl you always wanted to be, and I'd like to be your friend as you get there."

Collei awed.

"W-Wow, thank you! I've never gotten a compliment like that before too…"

The child never saw the sadness in your eyes, or maybe she mistook it as fondness. You continued patting her head as she melts in your touch. Fakely, you gave her a big smile.

"Then let's get to know each other." You grabbed her hands. "Why don't you show me around town, fratella?"

You can't kill this girl yet.

She nodded eagerly.

Not until you find out just how much this child means to Tighnari.

Besides, you didn't miss the flash of purple in the alleyways. Cyno was observing you from afar. You can't make haste.

You grabbed her hand.

You'll get your revenge, someday but not today, even if it arrives at your dying breath.

—----

Someone else is watching you. A second stalker.

It's not paranoia born out of the tragedy that occurred yesterday, but a fact. 

As you were greeted by an angry Candace (Cyno's coworker) who gave you a firm yet fruitless sermon about leaving the parameters, you heard the bushes rattle by the gardens. You offhandedly mentioned it to her, and it placated her fury. 

Candace agreed that she heard it as well, and she promises to take care of it as soon as you go back to confinement– "your room." Collei awkwardly bid you farewell and you promised you'll see her again in a few days. She probably thought that you were her new troublesome sibling. And speaking of troublesome…

Snatching the small glimpse of metal from the table, you pivoted your heels.

"You can't hide from me."

Masterfully, you hurled a butterknife and it landed just a few centimeters above the trespasser. He grunted almost inaudibly. Had you been any less precise that aim would've killed him, but the man had the guts to trust that you wouldn't be so foolish and kill him off without a proper interrogation. It's one of many reasons Tartaglia envies your dexterity and wit.

You glared. This man wore dark clothing yet his luminescent akasha terminal betrays any hope for a successful undercover mission. The stranger promptly calculated his response as you grabbed your remaining utensils. This time, you had a sharper blade in your arsenal.

"Speak."

"My name is Alhaitham. I'm an Akademiyan spy."

No shit. He's wearing an akasha terminal. What else could he be but a pain in the neck?

You laughed sardonically. "Oh my, a bold one, are we? Think you can take me down just because of my manor?"

"I'm not here to fight you– I'm here with a proposal, (Y/n)."

And he had the nerve not to address you as Capo.

The stranger didn't see you throw a fork in his direction until he heard the metal ring beside his ear. Some strands of his hair got caught between the points, yet he feigned an unphased disposition.

"Get out."

"Alhaitham" didn't listen. He knew you'd insist until you could drag his cold dead body into the garbage chute for Wednesday's pickup. So what did he do?

State his proposal anyways.

"I want to become Innamorati's next underboss."

Your grip on the knife loosened slightly. Alhaitham watched your serious face loosen up, but not in the reaction he hoped for. Instead, you laughed at him.

Him? Replacing Dimitri? Hilarious.

"Now that's comedy! What made you think I'll hire you? I don't know your face but I know your name."

You proudly grabbed a glass and poured yourself the wine Cyno bought that you previously insisted on not drinking. 

"Ahh, this should be entertaining. Alhaitham– the Akademiya's slaved accountant. Maybe I would've taken you in if you didn't reveal that you're a spy. Would've enjoyed dragging you around till you're drained like hell. You know, if you already told me that you're here to spy on me you might as well spill who ordered you to do so."

"Khajeh." He replied immediately.

You drank half a glass. "Hah! Figured. Barely ran into any scholars but that old man is as nosy and obnoxious as they come."

"In addition, he gave me permission to try and apply as your next underboss."

"Keyword here is try."

"The Akademiya had been spying on you for a long time–"

"I know. I'm not dumb enough not to notice your men skulking around. They're practically built like an elementary school's skeletal model." You clicked your tongue.

"–But if you take me, I am at your full disposal. I will work simultaneously for the Akademiya and you, so I'd let you in on canned knowledge trades. I'm not as weak as the others. I've been a member of multiple training corps with exceptional gra–"

He stopped abruptly when you placed your glass down. It's empty.

Alhaitham met your gaze and silently noted your unamused expression.

You have never once tried getting into any supply of canned knowledge, but that doesn't mean you'd dive into this shady business after the opportunity presents itself pronto. You've seen how Dottore handles his wares, and you know how it functions similarly to heroin.

You're not letting your men go through the same addiction as you had before.

"Are you done?" You cut him off, clearly aware that he barely started with his fluffs. Realizing that all he had done was brag, he changed topics immediately.

"I know a lot of things about you, Capo." Alhaitham's lips quivered for a brief moment. "I'd dare say I found all the dirt I could find."

"Is that so…" You replied, rather uninterested. These buzzwords have always been around since the day you became Capo, not once had they piqued your interest.

"You killed La Signora to inherit her title. You announced that she died bravely against Khaenri'ahn soldiers, but it was you whom she dueled with– and now you have her authority and more."

You laughed, once again sounding wholly bored.

"Should've known Akademiyan freaks like you are into conspiracy theories." You replied in an attempt to seem like you care. You're not sure if it worked.

"You neither confirmed nor denied my statement."

Cause he's half-wrong. You're not a brute. If you want something done, then it must be swift. There's no way you could've won a match against your old Capo, everyone would agree with that. 

It's much easier to kill her in her sleep and frame your fellow countryman's fault for everything.

"Do you need me to?"

There was no need for you to tell him that this information is useless. Many similar-sounding theories had spread during the first few months of acting as Innamorati's new Capo. Snezhnayans are very strict when it comes to blood relations, and they're not easily convinced when you told them that it was Rosalyne's final wish to instate you as their new leader. 

It was partly thanks to Viktor that the familia grew to welcome you in. He had an apparent dislike for the old capo and when you promised he'd be off guard duties his mouth started rambling. Viktor's not one to shy away from leaking the information you puppeteered him to say. You've ensured many methodologies to spread a positive campaign about you, and people began naturally supporting your cause.

All done with minimum effort.

You smiled at him sweetly. Should Alhaitham attack your reputation, you have no doubt you have the capabilities in mending it quickly despite your situation. You're loved by the Church and most importantly the masses. Now that many of your men have passed, the public would view you as a staggering symbol of mourning. Poor (Y/n).

Alhaitham didn't react. Instead, his expression dimmed, more solemn this time.

"That's just the appetizer." 

He continued. 

"The truth is, you barely have 2 years left to live because of Eleazar, isn't that right, (N/n)? That's why you always act like you're running out of time."

Your eyes widened.

Now he's not half wrong. That's the whole truth. 

You laughed again.

"Is that your best attempt at a death threat? Don't have specialized canned knowledge to teach you when to shut the fuck up?"

"I'd be happy to let you know that I'm not the only one who has conducted some… research, Capo." He digressed and walked closer. "Inquisitor Cyno, Professor Tighnari, and I know about it. It's quite a well-kept secret, really. You ought to be thankful."

Alhaitham pulled out a tissue from his pockets.

You squinted and paused.

Oh, no wonder. So that's how he came up with that conclusion. 

"You've been coughing up blood way before you joined the mafia– and it's a miracle that no one noticed your weak constitution. None except the three of us, I mean." He continued. "I had someone from our forensics team inspect this, and I'm not surprised to hear that it's from you rather than your enemies."

"Then why."

"Why?"

"Why haven't you leaked this yet? Isn't this a good thing for you Akademiyans?"

Alhaitham smirked.

"I believe I should be the one to govern my actions– why else would I stalk these dilapidated rooftops?"

"Then how long have you known?"

"Trust me, the three of us knew longer than you'd imagine. I knew about your secret ever since you sold matchsticks for a living."

Your eyebrows furrowed. 

"That was five years ago…"

"So? Doesn't change that you've been diagnosed for well over six years."

"I was barely anyone back then– I was just a beggar hustling on the streets– why make such an idiotic claim?" You rolled your eyes. "I've heard enough. Leave, while I still allow it."

Alhaitham's face softened.

"So you don't remember me…"

He handed you the tissue, and you reluctantly accepted it.

As your hands met, Alhaitham pulled you close to his chest. His face looked down on you, smug and condescending.

Alhaitham caressed your cheek, and then your lips. You flushed at the sudden contact and quickly tilted your dagger near his neck.

He whispered into your ear. 

"What a delicate flower you are, tesoro. But I will not lie, you're far from youthful– you're wilting, and I loathe watching this all unfold from afar any longer."

The Akademiyan gently pushed your dagger away and kissed your wrist. Your eyes sharpened, hastily aiming for his neck but he swiftly changed trajectory. He knew this was just a reminder that he could die in your hands if you will it. Alhaitham is not blind. He saw the way you curved your hand at the last second to prevent a lethal blow.

He stood a few feet away, no longer at arm's length. Alhaitham pushed the curtains aside with one foot already out the window.

"I'll meet you again here, 6 AM sharp. Tell me whatever it is that you decide then." He said before confidently adding "I look forward to working with you soon, (N/n)."

In the same fashion he entered, he left the room quietly. Deciding that you don't care enough to watch him leave the premises, you locked the windows shut.

You sighed, exhausted, and pulled the curtains closed.

Life won't let you catch a break…

Now, what's your schedule for tomorrow?

—------

Note: this is an interactive fic! The underlined word will lead you to a google forms link to decide what happens in the next chapter! Have fun voting!!!

Deadline: October 20, 2022 October 16, 2020

Next Chapter

#Tag: ocmc - cta #yandere genshin x reader #yandere #yandere genshin #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere fanfiction #yandere tighnari #yandere cyno #yandere alhaitham #yandere al haitham #al haitham x reader #cyno x reader #tighnari x reader #tighnari #cyno #al haitham #yandere al haitham x reader #yandere tighnari x reader #yandere cyno x reader #yandere male #genshin impact #tw yandere #ansy-writes

[janetbrown711]

Melatonin

Louie can't sleep after an adventure gone wrong, his mother's words echoing in his head like the worst worst record, and so he seeks solace with his dear old Uncle Donald.

Ao3 Link

Louie was tired, which wasn’t surprising for 2:17 in the morning. It had also been a long, long day of adventuring and he had been grateful when he finally was able to throw himself on his bunk bed.

Unfortunately though, Louie couldn’t sleep.

His back and legs ached something fierce from all of the above-average amounts of running and walking and climbing he had to do, and there was this weight on his chest that caused his heart to pound, keeping his eyes and mind on alert.

Insomnia was nothing new for the youngest duck brother, of course, but that didn’t make it any less annoying (especially with Dewey’s tendency to snore). He’d normally just go on his phone and scroll through social media until his eyes decided to close, but it didn’t feel right tonight. No, his feed was too full of Webby and Dewey’s photos of their adventure. Photos of Scrooge, Huey, and Della were on every post, with Louie having to swipe through to find any with him in them.

That wasn’t their fault though, Louie really hadn’t been in the mood today for hiking mountains and fighting bears and bear-like monsters to find some mystic honey stirrer. The photos of him were blurry and embarrassing, unlike the usual where he’d at least pose with the treasure or he and Webby had some kind of fun side quest.

A chill ran through Louie that made him sit up and sigh, rubbing the bandages around one of his hands as he tried to think of what to do.

He could go to the kitchen and if Duckworth wasn’t too busy ghost-sleeping, he could make him some tea..? No, no, Louie hated tea more than Scrooge hated to waste it. Something else then… like watching YouTube? No, his feed was overrun with videos about Doofus Drake and Scrooge McDuck sightings and hustler videos that Louie really didn’t have an interest in (at least… not right now). He could try counting sheep, but– but there was something else on his mind playing on repeat instead.

“C’mon Louie, it’s just one more mile, don’t get lazy on me now.” His mother smiled at him, hands on her hips and a bouncy energy that just made him even more tired by the second.

“Yeah, Louie! C’mon, it’ll be totally cool to see the top of the mountain,” Huey encouraged too.

“If I don’t die before then,” Louie panted, leaning back against a tree.

Della tsked and rolled her eyes. “You sound just like your uncle, you know that?”

Louie perked up at that, but before he could say anything, Dewey punched him in the arm as he and Webby sped by.

“See ya later, slowpokes!” he called out mockingly as Webby made a face.

“Hey! We’re supposed to be on the lookout for bears, you two!” Della laughed and hurried to go join them.

“Hey–! Wait for us!” Huey shouted and started scurrying off too, and Louie had no choice but to follow.

…Louie didn’t know why his mind was focusing on it– it wasn’t a big deal, really. They all made it eventually, even if Louie missed the “big reveal” and family photo op. They had hundreds of those, Louie being gone from one or two or however many at this point wasn’t a big deal. He was the lazy one, after all. Consequences, simple as that.

“If you want to be part of this family, you got to–”

Louie shot up and out of bed, startled by his own memory as the pounding in his chest only increased.

“It’s just a stupid memory, Louie. Just shut up and go back to sleep,” he muttered to himself before checking if he’d awoken his brothers. Thankfully, the answer was no, so Louie was left to… well, as much as he wanted to, he was in no condition to go back to bed. He was still stuck in “fight or flight” mode, so he needed to walk around– maybe to find some melatonin.

As good as that sounded though, he knew the numerous bathrooms barely even had toilet paper, much less medications due to how stingy Scrooge was. If there was melatonin to be found, it probably expired in 1986 and probably had a nightmare shadow creature trapped inside for extra measure.

Then again, Uncle Donald always kept his melatonin and other vitamins stocked, so maybe Louie could just go to the houseboat to check? Hopefully he could do so without waking his uncle, but if he caught him, it wasn’t like he’d get in trouble.

Louie bit his cheek, finding his phone and unplugging it to check the time, annoyed but not surprised it had only been two minutes. With a sigh, Louie put his phone in his pajama pocket, and quietly crept out of his room into the halls of the manor.

Nights like these always made the mansion feel haunted– more than by Duckworth, anyways. His uncle was crazy old and so was his choice in curtains and decoration. While Duckworth and Beakley kept dust away, the moonlight had this uncanny way of pointing out every crack and crevice that was previously unknown. Plus, the quiet made the creaking wood and pipes a lot more noticeable, and with Louie, being in the state that he was, picked up the pace to avoid it as much as possible.

Thankfully, the courtyard wasn’t too hard to get to and soon, Louie was back sneaking his way on the houseboat like it was nothing.

While it took a second to get used to, the familiar sway and creaking of the houseboat was comforting for the young duck, and he couldn’t help but smile as he made his way to the bathroom’s medicine cabinet for raiding.

In there, he found a half empty bottle of aspirin, a thing of tums, an empty paper cup, some mouthwash, but no sign of any melatonin.

“Well… frick,” Louie muttered to himself, closing the mirror and nearly jumping out of his skin when he heard footsteps just outside.

“Hello?” called out the tired and scratchy voice of Louie’s uncle.

Busted.

“Sorry, Uncle Dee, I was just looking for some melatonin to nab.” Louie’s face was red as he flicked the light off and stepped out to the small hallway.

His uncle smiled pitifully at him. “Can’t sleep?”

Louie shook his head.

“I keep that in my room now since you three moved out.” Donald chuckled. “I can grab it for you, and I can make some tea too, if you’d like.”

Louie bit his cheek. It was getting late, but as much as Louie wanted to just take the melatonin and hope his feelings would just drown out, he couldn’t deny having a cup of sleepytime tea with his uncle would help.

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Louie gave a crooked little smile, which made his uncle chuckle again and ruffle his hair before going to the kitchen. Louie followed, sliding into the circular booth and watching as his uncle pulled out the dented old kettle and filled it with water.

“Have you gotten any sleep at all?” his uncle asked, watching it fill.

Louie shook his head. “No, not really… I’m more surprised you’re awake though, I really thought it would be an easy in-and-out.”

“You’d be surprised how raising triplets and being ex-navy can affect how light you sleep.” His uncle winked and turned the water off.

Louie snorted. “I think Mom could sleep through a bombing.”

“Yeah, that’s Della all right.” Donald’s voice wavered a bit, though he quickly turned to muttering in frustration as it took a second before his stove would light. It eventually did, and once that was all settled he sighed and leaned against the counter. “So what’s keeping you up this time, Lou?”

“Oh, you know… adventure stuff, I guess,” Louie danced around the details, picking at the bandage on his hand.

His uncle’s eyes landed on it, and based on his reaction, it seemed he hadn’t noticed his injury at dinner. “Are you okay? What happened? Did Huey or Webby do the bandaging? Or was it Dewey? Not that he does a bad job, he just always forgets the Neosporin–”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, Uncle Dee– really,” Louie forced a smile. “It’s just a minor scrape, I promise.”

“You know, I’ve always told Scrooge you boys need better gloves and gear just so situations like this don’t happen.” Donald shook his head and left the kitchen, muttering under his breath the whole time.

Welp. Better than a scolding to stay safer, Louie thought to himself as he closed his eyes for a second.

When he opened them again, his uncle was back with a first aid kit and a bottle of melatonin.

“Here, let me look at it,” Donald asked, taking a seat next to Louie.

“It’s fine, Uncle Donald,” Louie tried to assure him, but his uncle didn’t relent, taking his hand and quickly unwrapping the bandage.

His uncle frowned, inspecting it. “This doesn’t look like a regular scrape. What happened?”

“It was just a sharp rock, I swear.” Louie looked away to try and mask the lie.

Donald didn’t seem to believe it, but focused his efforts more on adding some neosporin to his cut before finding a suitable gauze pad, bringing Louie momentarily relief.

“Who wrapped this the first time? And how long was it between hurting yourself and getting bandaged?” Donald interrogated.

“Dewey when we got back to the plane, I guess– it’s really not a big deal, Uncle Donald, I’m fine,” Louie tried to push, but he could see Donald’s eye twitch.

“No one had a first aid kit? Not even Huey?” Donald asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“He ran out using it on Webby and Dewey and Launchpad.” Louie shrugged. “Seemed only fair to let them have it this time anyways, since I’m usually the one taking all the supplies.”

Donald frowned, now taking the roller bandage and wrapping his wrist twice before going diagonally to the outside of his pinky. “I don’t like you thinking like that; your safety and health matters just as much as anyone else’s– even if you’ve got worse luck and tire out quicker.”

“Sure,” Louie sighed, looking at the kettle and seeing the steam starting to escape, a squeal imminent.

“I’m serious, Louie. I don’t want you talking like that. You deserve as much love and care as anyone else.” His uncle looked at him seriously, but the ten-year-old avoided eye contact.

Donald frowned, finishing the bandaging just as the kettle began to squeal and put a brief pause to go deal with that.

“If you want a place in this family–”

Stop. Just stop, Louie hissed in his mind. He hated that stupid video and that stupid memory. It was so long ago, there really wasn’t a point for it to be on repeat like it was. Yeah, his mom joked that if he hadn’t been so clumsy on the last adventure then Huey wouldn’t have ran out of bandages, but like… that was different. Louie was fine. It was fine. It was cool.

“So are you going to actually tell me how you hurt yourself, or are you going to keep me guessing all night?” Donald sighed, pouring the hot water into two mugs.

“It was a sharp rock, I promise.” Louie bit his cheek.

“Right.” His uncle’s shoulders sagged, before he shook his head and set the kettle down. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Adventures are hard sometimes, I get it– plus, I know I can be a little protective–”

Louie laughed.

Donald rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe more than a little protective, but you know… someone’s gotta.”

Louie’s smile faded and his eyes went back to his hands.

His uncle hummed in amusement as he got the tea bags and began brewing before returning with mugs in hand to the booth. “I’m sorry today was rough. I wish I could’ve been there.”

Louie waved his hand. “You would’ve gotten hurt a lot more than me.”

“Yeah, but at least Della knows to carry three extra kits whenever I’m around,” Donald laughed, and a lump formed in Louie’s throat.

“Right, yeah.” Louie tried to ignore it, tapping his fingers on the glass as he urged the tea to brew faster.

When it was done, he could feel his uncle's eyes on him as he took a sip of tea, searching and scanning like they had many times before. It was how he eventually learned to detect Louie's schemes, and it never failed to make Louie feel small.

To his surprise though, instead of saying anything, Donald wrapped an arm around Louie and pulled him to his side, kissing his head and hugging him tight. It made the lump tighten and tears threaten to form, the pressure building so tight Louie might just burst.

“I love you, Louie. You know that?” his uncle whispered.

Louie could only nod.

“I love you very, very much, Lou. I care about your health and safety, and I want you to be happy more than anything else in the whole wide world, do you understand?” Donald continued.

Louie nodded again, his lower lip beginning to tremble.

His uncle hugged him tighter. “Louie, I want you to tell me what’s hurting you. You don’t have to give details– but know that nothing is too much for me, okay? I want to help you… please…”

The ‘please’ shattered Louie’s resolve. He opened his mouth to speak maybe three times, before he eventually croaked it out:

“Why… doesn’t mom… like me..?”

Donald let out a quiet gasp, filling Louie with instant regret that broke him down into a sobbing mess in an instant.

“Oh, Louie.” His uncle pulled Louie onto his lap now, hugging him tight as he rocked back and forth while the ten-year-old just buried his face in his chest.

“S-sh-she– It-it’s like– She likes H-Huey, a-and Dewey, a-and even Webby– b-but– b-but–”

“I’m so sorry, honey.” Donald hugged him a little tighter, and Louie could tell he was crying too.

“I-I keep screwing u-up– a-and it’s like– i-it’s like she ca-can’t even tell a-and she just– she hates me, Unca’ Donald, she hates me,” Louie wept.

“Della doesn’t hate you, Louie, she just doesn’t understand, I promise,” Donald tried to assure, but Louie just shook his head.

“Sh-she keeps– she keeps calling me lazy a-and she makes fun of me wh-when I fail a-and even get hurt– it hurts so much, Unca’ Donald, it hurts so much,” Louie confessed, a wave of sorrow crashing down with the realization.

“I’m so sorry, Lou…” his uncle’s voice cracked. “I wish she didn’t. I really, really wish she didn’t– but old habits die hard, I’m so sorry.”

It took Louie a moment to process what his uncle said, and when he did, he sat up a bit. “Y-you mean she does that to you too?”

Donald nodded with a sad smile. “Everyone does, but Del and Scrooge especially. I used to joke that’s the only reason they kept me around.”

Louie’s heart managed to break a second time and he practically leapt to hug his uncle. “M’so sorry, I-I never meant to– I just– I’m so sorry, Uncle Donald.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Lou. I’ve learned to accept it.” Donald rubbed his back.

“But you shouldn’t have to! I-it sucks– I hate being just a joke to them, a-and you’re so much more than that too!” Louie broke the embrace again.

“Louie, you aren’t a joke to them, I promise. You have that wonderful mind of yours that’s always so good at planning and scheming and escaping and they value that tremendously.” Donald put his hands on Louie’s shoulders.

Louie looked at the ground. “Even mom..?”

Donald gave a long sigh. “Your mom is… new to this. She doesn’t understand how you work yet and assumes you won’t take it personally, like how I would act– but that doesn’t make it right. She loves you, but she just doesn’t know how to, and I’m sorry that hurts you…”

Louie looked away, his mom’s words echoing again in his mind.

“If you want to be a part of this family, you gotta stop.”

“She… she said if I wanted to be a part of this family, I had to stop scheming– had to stop the one thing I’m good at,” Louie whispered.

He could see his uncle’s shoulders tense. “When did she say that..?”

“When you were gone after the ‘timephoon incident’.” Louie sniffled, wiping away hot tears as he stared at his mug.

Donald gave another long, heavy sigh. “I’m so sorry, Louie. I wish she understood you, I really, really do…”

“Sh-she also– I hurt my hand because she didn’t see me slipping. She didn’t help me– sh-she assumed I’d be okay, but I’m not okay– it’s not okay, Uncle Donald, it’s not.” Louie shook his head and curled up to Donald’s side, and his uncle wrapped an arm around him.

“I’m so sorry, Lou. Della just gets so wrapped up in her own head, she has a hard time recognizing people aren’t always at her level.” Donald rested his head atop Louie’s and squeezed him.

“I-I felt so alone today– I hate feeling alone,” Louie confessed more.

“I know, Louie, I know. And if it helps, you’ll always have me no matter what, okay? There’s nothing you could do to make me hate or leave you. You’ll always be my little Louie, and even if we get separated, I’ll always find my way back– even if it’s the moon,” Donald pointed out with a soft smile.

“Thanks, Uncle Donald.” Louie nuzzled closer. “I wish mom understood you too.”

His uncle laughed weakly. “Maybe one day… but in the meantime, I’m lucky to have you.”

Louie couldn’t help but laugh a little too. “I’m lucky to have you too, Uncle Donald.”

The pair of them sat in silence for a while, with Louie curled extra tight to his side and Donald holding him nice and close. It was calming, especially with the slow eb and flow of the pool water. All that crying had exhausted Louie, and he figured his uncle likely felt the same. However, Louie couldn’t even imagine going back to his bunk now, not when he felt his uncle needed him as much as he needed Donald.

“I’ll try and talk to her. It’ll be slow and I don’t know how she’ll take it, but I’ll talk to her,” Donald suddenly spoke up. “Uncle Scrooge too, for that matter.”

Louie wiped his eyes and shook his head. “You don’t gotta do that, it probably won’t change anything.”

“I have to try, Lou.” Donald looked down at him. “You’re worth at least trying.”

Louie didn’t have a response for that, so he just nuzzled back close and there was quiet again.

Louie liked the quiet. It was much better than the eerie silence of the manor, and how it would always be broken abruptly by some creaking wood or wind whirling down the chimney. On the houseboat, the sounds were constant, like a lullaby. The splashing of the water, the squeaking old metal, the soft hum of the old AC unit– it always knew how to put Louie to sleep.

“Uncle Donald?” he suddenly spoke up.

“Yes?”

“Can I… stay here with you tonight?” Louie glanced back up at him.

Donald’s face melted into a soft smile. “Of course, Lou. You’re welcome here any time.”

“Good.” Louie smiled too, before yawning.

His uncle chuckled before yawning himself. “Looks like we should get going to bed, huh?”

“I could stay up longer,” Louie lied, making his uncle roll his eyes.

“Drink some tea before you take that melatonin, I don’t want it going to waste,” Donald lightly teased before getting up and drinking more of his own.

Louie nodded, beginning to chug before he remembered he really wasn’t that big of a fan of tea, and so set it down again. “Is… that enough?” Louie asked.

Donald laughed. “Yes, yes, it’s fine, I’m just joking, no need to force yourself.”

Louie smiled before struggling to open the bottle of melatonin. Noticing this, his uncle walked over and helped him retrieve the yellow pill, which Louie took with a little bit of tea. After that was done, Donald cleaned up their mugs and set them out to dry. Once that was settled, Louie took Donald’s hand and the two of them went to cuddle the rest of the night away.

#ducktales #dt17 #ducktales 2017 #louie duck #donald duck #della duck #my fics #i can't believe I actually wrote this #it's been eighty thousand years #wild #if any of you remember me from my ducktales days no you don't #i was 13 why did people listen to me #(because I had correct opinions on Louie) #fjdkslfjdsa; #anyways #uh #enjoy #<3

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

tEaM cAp BaD, tOnY gOoD

The fact that takes like this are still being spewed 7 years after Civil War maddens me.

OMG where do I even start... You know, maybe this is the result of the MCU not knowing where they stand in regards to heroism. In the past we used to watch superhero movies that were very clear on defending the heroes and keeping the villains accountable, but for some reason the MCU seems to enjoy questioning their heroes and framing them in a negative light while justifying the bad guys - so I'm not surprised to read these takes.

OP says "Hydra didn't hide themselves after the reveal". Uh, yes, they did, actually. And with good reason. If you have been infiltrating an American intelligence agency for decades and you're finally outed, why exactly would anyone go out there and happily advertise they're Hydra? That... makes no sense.

I honestly have no interest in talking about "Did Wanda and Pietro know or not?". I'll just leave this here.

In the same comment OP shows his anger at Wanda for not facing any consequences for her actions, he defends Stark "not selling more weapons" as enough accountability for his. So he can spend his whole life willfully ignorant of where his wealth is coming from, he only decides to stop selling when those weapons kill Americans (he didn't give a fuck if they hurt other people), he can literally tell the government to suck it when they request his tech (which I'm okay with, but damn, nice display of hypocrisy right there when these stans claim the heroes are awful for not signing the Accords in CW)... and all this shit is enough for Stark to be off the hook?

They want Wanda, sometimes even Steve, to be jailed and punished but when it comes to Stark, if he pouts for a while they call it a day and that's enough accountability for him 🤦‍♀️

OP's line about Edith is even worse: "Edith is designed as a planetary defense system." I always think of Zola's line in TWS whenever I read a take like that one: "HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security."

More control doesn't equate more safety, it tends to cause the opposite thing, actually. But of course NWH never addressed the morality of this device so many fans think its existence okay. If they had handled it like Nolan did their ideas would be different. Edith is another Project Insight and Stark was still defending this "control is safety" years after CW 👇

That's Hydra rhetoric. I couldn't care less if it's a so-called "hero" saying it, that line could be said by Zola or Red Skull or Rumlow, that's how messed up it is. But all of a sudden it's Stark saying it and that makes it okay?

OP: "Steve Rogers [...] solves problems by punching things [...] He has no fucking idea how to handle a situation involving a bioweapon or a terrorist." Tell me you don't understand Steve's character without telling me you don't understand him. This stan is one of those who thinks Steve is just a buff guy with no brains who can only punch his way out of things, which is hilarious because he has been shown to be the exact opposite of that.

A guy who figured out how to take that flag from Camp Lehigh, who could easily tell he was being deceived after being defrosted when that Shield woman approached him in the med bay, who figured out Loki's sceptre worked like a Hydra weapon (linking the space and mind stones & how they worked), who knows military regulations well enough to know where a building is built in the wrong place, who can figure out he's going to be attacked in an elevator after only a few seconds...

Sure, he only knows how to punch things 🙄

#anti tony stark #steve rogers #team cap

[takingchences]

ultraviolet pt. 4 - BAKUGOU

A descendant of a legendary quirk longs to separate herself from her family name, but first she'll have to confront villains, ghosts from the past, and her growing attraction for Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x OP!fem!oc

Warnings: mature language

series masterlist + face claim

Watching the two rivals battle it out was difficult.

Midoriya had started out strong, having managed to gain the upper hand at the start of the exercise by anticipating Bakugou's attacks. The tables quickly turned, however, when the explosive teen demonstrated the power of his gauntlets. The force of the blast sent a tremor throughout the entire building, forcing Sana to stand closer to Kirishima. He was her best shot at making it out alive should the building collapse above their heads.

The heat released from the blast made her shiver.

"Sir, isn't this getting outta hand?" Kirishima tried to reason with the seasoned hero. "That Bakugou is acting real crazy. He's gonna kill him!"

All Might, with a practiced smile on his face, chose not to interfere in the fight other than to warn the angry blonde that if he used such a dangerous attack again, his team would automatically lose.

I hope our newbie teacher knows what he's doing, Sana held her clasped hands to her chest anxiously. Though everyone but All Might and their teammates were unable to hear what exactly the two boys were saying, it was clear from the footage that things were getting much too heated for a simple exercise.

"You okay?" Mina whispered, placing a comforting hand on her arm.

"Just nervous," Sana quickly dismissed her concern. Mina nodded in agreement, her bubblegum curls bouncing with the movement.

"Yeah. Bakugou really isn't letting up, huh?"

Midoriya went to punch, but in one fluid motion, Bakugou launched into the air and maneuvered himself behind the smaller boy. He set off an explosion against the greenette's unprotected back, making several in the class gasp.

"What was that move?"

"He doesn't come off as a guy with a strategy, but he's actually quite intelligent." Shoto voiced from the back of the crowd, momentarily pulling their attention away from the moniter. "He changed his trajectory while in midair using a blast that doubled as a smokescreen." The dual-quirk user explained. He added in a quieter tone, as if speaking more to himself now, "Very clever."

"A feint attack like that requires an extreme amount of precision." Momo agreed. "He had to calculate the physics and demonstrate control over his Quirk."

Kaminari, of course, was put off by the positive comments. "Ugh, Bakugou is uber talented." His shoulders slumped. "I hate it."

Me too, Sana nibbled on her lower lip.

Smoke rose from Midoriya's damaged costume. Bakugou, without hesitation, slammed his heavy-looking gear into Midoriya's arm. He then grabbed hold of said arm and released smaller blasts with his free hand for momentum before tossing the green-haired boy over his shoulder like a rag doll, much like Midoriya had done to him at the start of the match.

Sana had to turn away at the brutality Bakugo was displaying. He could've easily ended the exercise by now. He'd had enough opportunities to use the capture tape on Midoriya, which meant he was dragging the fight out on purpose.

He was enjoying this.

"This is hard to watch." Mina's voice cracked, as if she were close to crying. Her hand grasped Sana's sleeve tightly. "All he has to do is wrap tape around him, not kill him!"

"Bakugou is certainly acting like a villain," Tokoyami added from his shaded spot by the wall.

So much violence, Sana closed her eyes. All because of some stupid grudge. Midoriya pushed himself up shakily, half running and half crawling away from the beastly Bakugou.

"He's running away."

"Not very manly, but he doesn't have a choice." The rocky redhead sighed. "He's outgunned. Unless he's got some kinda plan."

It's possible, Sana acknowledged. She could tell that Midoriya was very observant and analytical, but he also seemed like the type of person to jump headfirst into danger without thinking. She wasn't sure if he even knew what he was going to do next.

Midoriya stopped, his back pressed against the wall. The two exchanged words before sprinting full-force towards one another. The veins in Midoriya's arm seemed to glow, like her's sometimes did if she used quirk for an extended period of time. "This can't end well," Sana bit her nail.

Even All Might looked nervous now. "Both of you, stop-" The Pro seemed to cut himself off.

Instead of aiming for Bakugou, Midoriya directed his attack upwards, blowing a hole through the center of the building. Uraraka used her quirk to levitate over the hole and capture the weapon, bringing the first mock battle to an end.

"The hero team... WINS!"

The class watched as Midoriya was carted away to Recovery Girl's office. "The losers are practically untouched, and the winners are both on the ground." Kaminari commented, scratching his head.

"This class is intense." Sana nodded dazedly.

All Might left to retrieve their classmates. The next battle would take place in a new building since the current one was now unusable. The hero returned shortly with Uraraka, Iida, and a shell-shocked Bakugou. He obviously wasn't taking the loss well.

The shattered look on his face made Sana's chest tighten. No matter how annoyed she was with him at the moment, she wouldn't wish such a feeling on anyone. But maybe, in this case, it was for the best. Bakugou needed to learn where his starting line was in order to improve, instead of assuming he'd already won before the race had even begun.

"Well, despite the results, the MVP of this exercise is Young Iida!" His announcement was met with confusion, Iida himself being the most surprised of all.

"Shouldn't it be one of the heroes instead, since they're the winners?" Tsuyu questioned.

"Mm! Valid question. Why didn't I choose one of those two? Who has a guess?"

"Sir! I can tell you why!" Momo volunteered before launching into a lengthy speech on how Iida embraced the challenge, unlike his partner who was too blinded by his hatred of Midoriya to focus on the real challenge; protecting the weapon.

I tried to warn him, Sana moved her eyes to the now quiet blonde, his eyes wide and downcast. Though I don't think an "I told you so" is what he needs right now.

"As you pointed out earlier, launching a large‐scale attack indoors was a foolish move. It could have been disastrous. Similarly," the girl continued. "Midoriya's plan was also poorly thought out, considering the amount of damage that he received. He rendered himself helpless. Not smart. As for Uraraka... She let her guard down mid‐battle, and her final attack was far too reckless given the hypothetical stakes. If she'd treated the fake weapon as though it were real, she never would've risked using such an imprecise move."

"Iida was fully prepared for his opponent's arrival. He had a strategy, and never lost sight of his mission to protect the dummy weapon, even if he was foiled in the end. Technically, the hero team won, yes, but they took advantage of the fact that this was training. They didn't respect the spirit of the trial."

Iida was sparkling after receiving such praise.

"Yes... well, you overlooked a few things." All Might stumbled over his words. "Young Iida could have relaxed a little bit in the exercise, but... otherwise, you nailed it!" He gave Momo a thumbs up.

"Let's move on to the next match!" All Might exclaimed after arriving at the next battleground. "Think about everything we saw and discussed as you tackle this training for yourself."

"Yes, sir!" Class 1-A shouted.

The Number One hero drew lots again, holding the letters up for all to see. "Match two! Team B will be our heroes! And Team I will be the villains!"

So, Hagakure and I will go up against...

People often say that God has a sense of humor and they would be right. Because the hero team consisted of Shoji and the very last person she wanted to see right now, let alone fight: Shoto Todoroki.

You've gotta be kidding me.

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

A radio, a map of the building, and capture tape were the only items they were given to prepare, as well as a head start so that "the villains" could hide their weapon.

"Hey, Sakano." Her teammate called. "I'm gonna take off all my clothes and totally disappear."

"It won't make a difference," Sana replied matter-of-factly, tightening the ribbon holding her hair back. "He'll make his move before you make it out the door."

"Are you okay?" Hagakure asked hesitantly. "You seem... different."

No, Sana wanted to say. She felt like laughing and crying hysterically as she hugged her knees and rocked in a corner. I have to put my feelings aside. I'd be a hypocrite if I lectured Bakugou about controlling his emotions and didn't take my own advice. Her nails dug into the flesh of her palms as her fists clenched in suppressed anger. It's just like when we used to train together, she reminded herself. Only this time, he's not my only opponent.

"I'm fine," Sana brushed the question off.

They settled for hiding the weapon on the highest floor. The room was empty, so it left a lot of open space to defend and only one exit to escape through. The large windows behind them let plenty of sunlight in, which would come in handy once their teacher gave them permission to start.

"You can ditch the gloves. But for now, keep your shoes on." The light-powered girl sensed her teammate's uncertainty. "Trust me."

"Look alive, kids!" The Symbol of Peace's thundering voice boomed through their earpieces. "Show us you're the embodiment of good." He paused, realizing his mistake. "Or evil! Let's go!"

Sana immediately channeled her quirk, urging the heat to spread throughout her body. Her eyes took on a luminous hue. Steam was visibly streaming off of her, which Hagakure was quick to comment on. "Stay focused," Sana reminded the invisible girl. "It's coming."

"What-"

A chill nipped at their skin before a wave of ice swept through the room. "JUMP!" Sana warned her teammate, though she made no move to follow her own command. Shoto's ice instinctively retreated from the heat radiating off of her.

"It's s-s-so cold-d," Hagakure chattered, her teeth knocking together as she shivered violently.

"When Shoto comes in, I'll distract him while you slip out of the room. Shoji is probably waiting outside the building, but he'll come in once he realizes the ice attack didn't work."

"Eh? S-shot-t-"

Crunch.

Both girls fell silent as the soft crunch of ice underfoot grew closer to their hideout. He was close, maybe only a few steps outside the doorless entrance. Sana spotted Hagakure's shoelaces untying themselves out of the corner of her eye, the invisible girl ready to make a break for it as soon as the path was clear.

The mock battle had officially begun.

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

Within minutes, his tall figure appeared in the doorway, that red LED eyepiece glinting eerily. Thick layers of ice covered everything from floor to ceiling, including the windows. He'd blocked out her main power source. Well then, it's a good thing I'm fully charged.

"Sakano." The empty sound of his voice made her flinch. That, and what he'd called her.

Sakano.

Not her name, her given name that he'd used so many times before, but her father's name. An inescapable weight she was forced to carry with her like a ball and chain. Sakano. As if they'd never been close. As if they hadn't known each other for most of their lives. As if the last ten years together were somehow less significant than the past ten months apart. "Sakano," he'd said, as though greeting a stranger.

Maybe that's what they'd become.

Familiar strangers.

"Todoroki," Sana grit her teeth, pushing past the painfully large lump in her throat to speak. She knew she probably looked shaken by his verbal sneak attack. She'd felt the color drain from her cheeks the second the word had registered in her mind, had felt her trembling hands curl into fists. He knew how hearing that cursed name from his mouth would effect her, and he'd used it to his advantage. Smart move.

"Step aside," Shoto instructed. "We both know how this will go, so let's skip to the end."

Sana hoped Hagakure had already made her exit. Fuck what she'd said earlier. Things were about to get very personal, very quickly. And like Bakugou and Midoriya, she didn't want anyone interfering. Only All Might would know what was said between them, which wasn't ideal, but at least she didn't have to worry about the rest of the class listening in as well.

"You underestimate me, hero." She forced herself to smile, to joke and taunt. It helped keep the tears she desperately wanted to shed at bay. That, and the cameras pointed at her, capturing her every move. She wouldn't allow herself to break down and look weak, no matter how much she wanted to crumble under his mismatched gaze. "This battle is far from over."

"There's no point in dragging this out," Shoto lazily shrugged. "You and I operate on different levels. We always have."

Unrecognizable. The dual-haired teen standing before her was completely unrecognizable. Where was the young boy who loved watching reruns of All Might's news clips with his mother late at night while his father was patrolling? Where was the boy that stubbornly made her pinky promise to start a hero agency with him? Where was the sweet boy who used to tie her shoes for her, knowing she couldn't do it herself? The one who had offered to take care of her imaginary dog while she was at school and he was stuck at home with a tutor? The one who's father she'd begged to allow him to attend school with her? Homeschooling made for a flexible schedule, which meant more training time and less eyes to notice the aftermath of the hero's violent outbursts, but she'd made a compelling argument about exposing Shoto to more powerful and complicated quirks. Eventually, he warmed up to the idea.

Her Shoto was kind, even when all he'd known was cruelty. So who was this Shoto? This harsh, apathetic, machine-like man. What had happened during those months away for him to make such a drastic change?

"Different levels," Sana repeated slowly, testing the words out. A breathy laugh followed, though the sound lacked any humor. "Did your old man teach you that? It sounds like something he'd say."

A muscle in Shoto's jaw fluttered. Good. She wasn't the only one pissed off now.

"Maybe that's what he tells himself." She continued, the corners of her lips tugging upward, refusing to even blink as glowing eyes bore into his steely gaze. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, but she felt no satisfaction as the biting words left her mouth. "That the reason he's so far behind is because he and All Might are 'on different levels."' The temperature of the room dropped significantly.

There was a reason Sana had been paired with Shoto as a sparring partner all these years; they brought out the best and worst in each other.

Shoto was the quiet type. He rarely spoke unless prompted to, or if he had something weighing on his mind. He kept his personal thoughts and feelings locked away, but Sana knew how to coax them out. She had a way with words. She knew just what to say to soothe him after a particularly brutal day with his father, or send him into a full-blown rage that almost made Bakugou look tame. It was a gift she was quite proud of. She liked to think of it as a secret weapon.

She also knew that Shoto relied heavily on his quirk, choosing to use long range attacks rather than close combat. With his size advantage alone, he could easily overpower her and claim the weapon.

But he wasn't moving.

Why hasn't he attacked already? Sana shifted her weight, ice tinkling softly beneath her feet. Does he really not consider me a threat?

His eyes cut to the side, narrowing slightly in focus. He seemed to be listening to something... maybe Shoji was talking to him? Sana concentrated for a moment before she heard the sound of distant shouting. Hagakure. She and Shoji were probably a floor or two away from them, battling it out, and here they were standing around playing mind games.

Screw it.

Sana sent a blast of solid light at Shoto, who dodged the attack and returned one of his own. Sana ducked to the side to avoid the ice, each breath visible in the frosty air. She knew what he was up to. It was a tactic he used often during their sessions. Cooler temperatures caused her quirk to weaken significantly. Drops in temperature forced the photons in the atmosphere to slow down. He was trying to tire her out, corner her into using up her reserves until she had nothing left. It was a dance they'd done enough times for her to know every move by heart. She could do this in her sleep.

The action caused a rush of anger to well up inside of her. Was he even taking her seriously as an opponent? Was his strategy to toy with her in a game of cat and mouse until he got bored? Did he honestly believe that they were competing on different levels?

Finally, she had enough.

"Fight me, dammit!" she demanded. "You're not even taking this seriously!"

"Are you?" the red-and-white haired teen asked, creating a wall of ice to use as a barrier. "From what I'm seeing, you haven't improved at all since the last time we fought. Is this the best you can do?"

With a flick of her wrist his way, a ribbon of light sliced through his sheild like butter. The top portion slid to the side and shattered. With a stomp of his foot on the ground, a mountain of jagged ice raced towards her. Sana summoned more energy, creating a protective dome around herself. The ice attack immediately melted upon contact, the rest cracking from the intense heat radiating off the glowing half-sphere. Steam filled the room, adding an unnecessarily dramatic effect to an already dramatic scenw as the two teens glared at each other from opposite sides of the room.

Sana hadn't let her guard down once during the few minutes they'd been sparring. She had a plan, one she'd come up with mere moments before the battle trial began. But in order for it to work, she had to keep Shoto's attention. Unfortunately, she was starting to feel drained. She'd been maintaining a high temperature around herself since Shoto had turned the entire building into a popsicle. It was starting to have an effect on her, and Shoto seemed to sense that as well. He pummeled her temporary sheild relentlessly, battering it over and over with a barrage of endless attacks until Sana had to drop it to conserve her energy.

A beam of light shot from her palm, aimed at his head. The boy deflected it using a small glacier, while instantaneously firing back a blast of frost. The peach-haired girl jumped to the side, the ice shattering against the wall beside her. Shards of it went flying from the impact, a particularly sharp piece sliced her cheek an inch below her eye. A single drop of blood slipped down her cheek like a tear; the only one she would allow herself to shed in this moment.

With a battle cry, Sana launched herself at Shoto, only to be caught in the chest by a flurry of ice. She fell to the ground with a wince. Layers of frost crept along her stunned body, making her shiver violently.

A pair of white boots entered her field of vision as a disappointed sigh broke the silence. "It seems your efforts were in vain." The footsteps moved away from where she was immobilized, heading towards the weapon.

Hagakure had her hands full distracting Shoji, so Sana couldn't expect any backup from her teammate. More than anything, she wanted to prove that she was capable of taking on a powerhouse like Shoto Todoroki and winning.

"It wasn't a t-t-total waste." She called from the floor, teeth chattering.

His footsteps didn't stop or even slow at her words. Lifting her head as best she could with her body encased from her feet to her shoulders, she followed his broad back with her eyes. Standing before the weapon, Shoto lifted his right hand to touch the weapon and claim victory for the Hero Team.

Except... he couldn't touch it. His hand passed through the bomb like a reflection in a pool.

He whipped around at the sound of throaty laughter. "Y-you were right." Sana, despite being out of commission, still had her quirk activated. Her glowing eyes were a dead give away. Her lips, which were starting to turn blue, split into a devilish grin. "This is the b-best I can d-d-do."

"What is this?" Shoto's body tensed, the hand meant to hold the weapon now clenched into a fist.

"A dem-demonstration," she shuddered, still stuck face down on the floor. "I wanted t-to s-show how f-far I've come w-without you."

Shoto took a step closer to her. "What are you talking about?" He demanded, his voice urgent. "What did you do with the weapon, Sakano?"

Her skin was pale, eyes lidded, her blue lips bordering purple now. Yet, she still smiled conspiratorially, like she was in on a joke that hadn't been shared with the rest of the world. She faintly heard All Might's voice through her earpiece, yelling their names. She blinked heavily, the edges of her vision going dark.

As soon as the solar-powered girl lost consciousness, the fake-fake weapon faded away, and the real weapon Shoto was meant to capture appeared out of thin air, nestled in a dark corner on the far side the room. Sana had bent the light around the weapon to turn it invisible, as well as maintaining the mirage of a duplicate weapon, all while fighting him as a distraction until time ran out. It was a miracle she hadn't passed out sooner.

He was wrong when he'd said she hadn't improved earlier. Sana had grown immensely during their time apart, and not just quirk wise. She'd matured physically and mentally as well. It made Shoto's chest ache to think that he'd already missed so much in so little time.

He turned in a quick circle, looking for the real weapon before finally spotting it out of the corner of his eye. It annoyed him once he realized he'd passed right by it on his way inside. It hadn't even occurred to him that his childhood friend might be capable of doing something like that. He slid across the frozen floor towards the exit, arm outstretched. But just before his fingers could make contact, the buzzer went off.

"Time's up!" All Might announced. "Villian Team wins!" Distantly, a girl's voice could be heard cheering.

Shoto stared at the weapon with wide eyes, his hand hovering only inches away. Sana was much better at combat than he was. Whenever they practiced without their powers, it was rare that she lost. But for the first time in a decade, Sana had defeated him using her quirk. He wasn't sure if he should be proud of her success or saddened by it.

At the moment, it felt like a mixture of the two.

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

Sana had been defrosted, along with the rest of the building, by Shoto before being hauled away to the nurse's office to warm up and rest. After sleeping for about an hour, Sana finally stirred. Recovery Girl let her go with a kiss on the cheek and a handful of gummy bears. It came as no surprise to anyone that Midoriya was still unconscious.

She returned to the training grounds, where she was immediately greeted with cheers and claps on the back. Hagakure filled her in on what happened after she passed out, like how they won and how, apparently, she'd tied with Shoto as the MVP. Most of the teams had already gone by the time Sana had woken up, which was fine with her. After the stress she felt watching the first round, and the roller coaster of emotions she experienced during her own, the peach-haired girl was ready to call it a day.

All Might ended the class with a speedy exit, while the rest of the class walked at a normal pace back to the changing rooms. Once they were back inside the 1-A classroom, most of the students chose to hang back and socialize. Sana assumed the majority of them were waiting to congratulate Midoriya. Aside from Bakugou, of course, who grabbed his bag and stormed out without a word to anyone.

She had half a mind to follow him and try and cheer him up, but figured she'd already meddled in his life enough for one day.

"You know, Sakano, I was rather curious about something." Momo's voice pulled her away from her thoughts. The girls were gathered in a circle around Sana's desk, except for Uraraka, who had left with Kaminari to grab textbooks in preparation for tomorrow's lesson. "The nature of your quirk, along with your surname... well, it can't be a coincidence, can it? Are you related to the Sakanos?"

There was that name again. It followed her everywhere, like a shadow. Momo's question had caught the attention of the rest of the class, who were just as curious about the answer. She couldn't lie. Momo was right in the sense that it would be too much of a coincidence for her not to be one of them.

Without meaning to, Sana locked eyes with Shoto. She wasn't sure why she did it. Maybe because, out of everyone, he knew how heavy the burden of such a legacy could be. Or maybe it was because she was reminded of a wound he'd inflicted only hours ago that was still tender.

"Oh," Sana played with the cuff of her blazer. "I am."

"No way!" Mina clapped her hands to her cheeks. "You mean that scary-looking guy on TV is your dad?!" Sana nodded, hiding her despair behind a polite, practiced smile.

It was all part of the act, part of the role she'd been assigned since birth. She played her part well, unlike Shoto, who fought against his strings so much that he sometimes became tangled in them. No, she just smiled and nodded, said the lines she'd rehearsed so well, and waited for the show to end. When it was over, she'd give herself a round of applause for her performance, only to crumble as soon as the curtains closed.

But Shoto wouldn't be there to help pick up the pieces anymore. She hadn't imagined it earlier, when he'd called her that despicable name.

Sakano. What a cruel thing to say to someone you claimed to love.

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

Bakugou grumbled to himself, kicking at the ground as he walked home. The day couldn't have gone any worse. Not only had he been lectured like a child by some dumbass, but he'd also been humiliated by that shitty nerd in front of the entire class. No, worse. In front of All Might.

"When I was watching that ice guy, I realized I couldn't beat him in a head‐to‐head fight." He'd said to Deku by the school gates. "Dammit, even that glow-worm was stronger than I thought."

She'd downplayed her power, pretending to be weak and forced to rely on others, when in reality, her quirk was probably one of the strongest in class. It pissed him off that he'd been tricked again. He was right when he'd said she was like Deku. They were both looking down on him, mocking his strength and laughing at his expense.

Bakugou had always been praised: for his flashy quirk, his strength and determination, his intelligence, etc. He'd always been made to feel like number one, and had proven himself capable of being the best again and again. So why, after starting U.A, did it seem like that was no longer the case?

❀ Be sure to check out the spotify playlist!!!

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugo my hero academia #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou fluff #bakusquad #shoto todoroki #kirishima eijirou #ashido mina #kaminari denki #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bnha oc

[count-alucard-tepes]

Op hotties reaction to their s/o ex flirting with them ?🙏

Kizaru ✨

He would smile in amusement and watch his S/O’s reaction the entire time. He wanted to see what they would do in this scenario. He of course was cool, calm and collected the entire time.

Akainu🌋

He gets angry immediately and pulls his S/O behind him before threatening the ex to never talk to his S/O again…unless they want to die.

Ryokugyu 🌱

He would tolerate the first few moments of it before he got real angry and would grab the ex by the shirt. He’d tell them to piss off with a wide grin on his face and toss them aside before pulling his S/O to him.

Fujitora 🐅

He would be quite cordial as he wasn’t going to be rude or anything like that. He would listen to his S/O’s response and that would determine his next action. If his S/O liked it, he would walk away…but if his S/O didn’t, he would immediately make sure the ex left them alone.

Sir Crocodile 🐊

He would get pissed off immediately once he hears that that was the ex and he would snarl at them, “….get out of my sight, you useless trash…and if you talk to my love again…I’ll kill you”, he hissed.

Doflamingo Donquixote 🦩

He would grin wildly as he would grab the ex by the throat and then threaten them, “…wouldn’t want to destroy this pretty face now, would we? So walk away…”, he’d say calmly.

Benn Beckman 🔫

He would sigh in response and just watch his S/O reaction. If he needed to intervene, he would but not unless his S/O was uncomfortable by the whole situation.

Katakuri Charlotte 🍡

He would be calm the entire time and would continue to be this way until he sensed that his S/O was not pleased with the situation. Then he would leave with his S/O, he wouldn’t fight unnecessarily.

Killer🔪

He would ask the ex to walk away and stay between the ex and his S/O, “…just go…they clearly don’t want to deal with you “, he’d say calmly. He likes to avoid fights as much as he can.

Kaido🐉

He wouldn’t even allow his S/O within ten feet with their ex. He does not play and would have his subordinates remove the ex and if the S/O had a problem…they could leave with the ex.

King 👑

He would just have to hear ‘ex’ and that was enough for him to take his S/O away. He didn’t not want to deal with any drama or kill anyone for nothing really. He would rather just avoid it as much as possible.

Queen👑

He would watch in amusement and just chuckle in response but the flirting was getting on his nerves. He did not like it. He would then move in to threaten the ex and tell them to leave.

Izou🔫🔫

He would take his S/O away immediately and not look back. He doesn’t feel the need to connect with ex’s when you have a new person in your life.

Dragon D Monkey 🐉🐒

He would frown at the situation before him and give his S/O the look to say ‘when ever you need me to step me..let me know’. He wasn’t going to fight for nothing otherwise.

Oven Charlotte 🍞

He would immediately start fighting with the ex, he is not dealing with the disrespect of them trying to flirt with his S/O. He’s not taking it at all.

Buggy🤡

He would awkwardly watch as he’s not very confident to say much to the ex but if he needed to, he would definitely throw a few punches.

Marco the Phoenix 🦅

He would watch in amusement until it’s not funny anymore and then steps in to playfully tell the ex to head out before he gets a little wild.

#ooc #one piece #one piece akainu #akainu sakazuki #sir crocodile #crocodile one piece #one piece kizaru #donquixote doflamingo #kizaru borsalino #doflamingo one piece #aramaki ryokugyu #ryokugyu one piece #one piece fujitora #fujitora issho #benn beckman #charlotte katakuri #katakuri one piece #killer one piece #king one piece #queen one piece #kaido one piece #izou one piece #izo one piece #dragon d monkey #charlotte oven #oven one piece #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #marco the phoenix #marco one piece

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

The alleged presidential campaign of Ron (Three-Fingers) DeSantis is having so much trouble gaining altitude that you'd think Elon Musk were behind it. (Too soon? Don't care.) He seems to be extraordinarily unlikable, but he makes up for it by proposing policies that are extraordinarily unpopular. He has picked a fight with Mickey Mouse. But there's another devil in the unpleasant details of the DeSantis CV. From the Washington Post:

Hundreds of “enemy combatants,” held without charges, had gone on hunger strikes. As pressure grew to end the protests, DeSantis later said, he was part of a team of military lawyers asked what could be done.

“How do I combat this?” a commanding officer asked in 2006, as DeSantis recalled in an interview he gave years later to a local CBS television station. “Hey, you actually can force-feed,” DeSantis said he responded in his role as a legal adviser. “Here’s what you can do. Here’s kind of the rules for that.” Ultimately, it was the Pentagon’s decision to authorize force-feeding. Detainees were strapped into a chair and a lubricated tube was stuffed down their nose so a nurse could pour down two cans of a protein drink, according to military records.

Force-feeding is torture. Among other things, it is a stench in the history of England in Ireland going back centuries. There are no "rules" that make it less so. Only alibis.

The Post's story came out in March. As far as I can tell, it got buried in all the other stories about DeSantis' fight with Disney and about the dysfunction in his campaign. But it's now sprung back to life. DeSantis is in Israel, pretending he's a world leader. At a press availability, a reporter dogged him about his work at Guantanamo. Whereupon, DeSantis blew his cork. From The Hill:

“No, no, all that’s BS,” DeSantis told reporters at a press conference in Jerusalem. “No, totally, totally BS...How would they know me? OK, think about that. Do you honestly believe that’s credible? So, this is 2006. I’m a junior officer. Do you honestly think that they would have remembered me from Adam? Of course not.”

“They’re just trying to get into the news because they know people like you will consume it because it fits your preordained narrative that you’re trying to spin. Focus on the facts and stop worrying about narrative.”

"Narrative" is one of the newest conjuring words that conservative politicians use to obscure the obvious. And the only "pre-ordained narrative" I'm aware of concerning DeSantis is that he's a not-very-bright lightweight who's punching way above his weight class and who's running the 1962 Mets of presidential campaigns. This Gitmo business is way beyond both of those.

Mansoor Adayfi, a former Guantanamo detainee, alleged in an Al-Jazeera op-ed earlier this month that DeSantis was present when he was force-fed during an effort to break a hunger strike at the prison. Many international groups have said force-feeding amounts to torture. “As I tried to break free, I noticed DeSantis’s handsome face among the crowd at the other side of the chain link. He was watching me struggle. He was smiling and laughing with other officers as I screamed in pain,” Adayfi said in the op-ed.

He's going to need a better answer than "Narrative!" for this one. It would be a very sad irony if the only American politician to suffer politically for the torture regime created in 2001 were Ronald DeSantis, as a potential presidential candidate in 2023. History has some formidable teeth.

#us politics #news #esquire #2023 #gov. ron desantis #florida #2024 elections #2024 presidential election #2024 presidential race #guantanamo bay #forced feeding #the washington post #the hill #torture