stargirl-chimes - Tumblr blog

stargirl-chimes · 11 days

Note

Don't know about you? But you know what one of MY favorite multi set ups is? The sandwich. Just? "We are going to MELT YOUR BRAIN" from sensory onslaught and leaving you drooling.

And I'm just sayin >.> bet Damian? Would TOTALLY have a "do I hate you or am I desperately horny for you" complexe towards Tim? Maybe some sort of team up? Verbal jabs leading to physical as they are changing at a safe house. And suddenly they are wrestling like feral little shits.

Nearly naked. Writhing and grappling. Until Damian manages to land himself straddling on top of a suddenly frozen Tim, who lost because he became Hyper Aware of what he was DOING. And of course he is smug in his victory. No, no he doesn't think he SHALL get up.

Beg.

And Tim is trying so, SO hard not to reveal that that he's gotten, well, HARD. But of COURSE the little nightmare notices. This is it. Tim's life is over.

But instead? It's more mocking, challenging, goading. Oh, so you DO have taste. And such.

As Damian rocks his hips. Grinding and teasing. How? What!? Who TAUGHT him these things!? Tim can't think. It's been a WHILE. The friction is amazing. Damian is smug, finally, HE is the one with the undisputed upper hand.

Drake, at HIS mercy. Flushed and panting and a mess. To hell with undressing, he uses a batarang to cut their remaining underwear OFF. Grabs the lubricants from both their belts.

Has he done this before? No. Even EXPLORED that area? Perhaps. Out of medical curiosity, he assures you. But NOW? Now he NEEDS it. Wants to see Timothy fall APART beneath him. Be completely under HIS control.

So he stretchs himself with clumsy, inexperienced fingers. Rocks and rocks his hips, never enough, but always enough to torment and tease. Fascinated by the way Timothy flushes, shakes, claws desperately at the floor like it will grant him SOME form of control. Damian feels... POWERFUL.

And Tim? Is losing his MIND. What is he DOING? With DAMIAN of all people. He should stop. Needs to stop! But... but, ah, it feels? So GOOD? How is it so GOOD? Hot and rough but not hurting, teasing but not too light. Why the FUCK is he GOOD at this? Why is Tim LETTING him do this?

Yeah it's been a while, and his really horny, but this is-!!! Oh!

And... listen. Tim? Never really... Topped, before. Not that this FEELS like he is. Kon always wanted to put it in, and Tim was cool with whatever. Same with his other partners. So he's never... never...

T-Tight.

Hot and tight, fluttering like a slick vice around the tip of his cock. Slowly rocking and sinking DEEPER. Swallowing him alive. Ripping the air from his lungs. He couldn't be silent if he tried. He's gasping for air. Whining. Shaking as he tries desperately to hold still, to not buck into that amazing heat.

Then Damian's MOVING and he can't shut up. No wonder Kon was obsessed. He's babbling. Anything to make it continue. More. More! Please. God it's so TIGHT. Milking him. Wet and hot and greedy. His hips bucking franticly in the little space he's allowed, to meet the controlled rocking of the body above him.

But! Of course, you cant leave Tim and Damian ALONE too long. That always leads to violence, even if the ARE getting better. So Dick has to check on them, you know? Make sure things are civil. Be that needed buffer.

But? Huh. No shouting? No crashing? Just panting. Did they already tire themselves ou-...? And what should he walk in on? Damian. RIDING Timmy. Gasping and rocking as he takes his pleasure, like Tim was his own personal dildo. Timmy clearly LOSING it. Whimpering and neglected as he's used for pleasure but not givin enough.

It... it should NOT as instantly rock hard hot as it is. Damian and Tim, expressive and needy, where they are usually so closed off and withheld. Panting and moaning, limbs shaking, all but BEGGING to be held tight and...

His eyes drift to Tim spread legs. He's overheard enough conversations to know... Tim likes to TAKE it. He must feel so EMPTY. And, really, Damian's going to get NOWHERE awkwardly bouncing like he is. All he's doing is teasing both of them.

They really do... need someone... to show...them.......

He's undressing before the thought even fully develops. Swiping the actual lube from the bedroom and a pillow. Time to be a good big brother. Teach his baby bros how to REALLY do things.

Tim down right near sobs, when clever, LONG, fingers slide into his body. Expertly avoiding where he really, REALLY wants them. Mean. Please! Ah! But no, they stretch and slick. Rubbing him deep but not where he WANTS. It's almost too much.

And then it IS too much. Thick. Strong thighs and familiar hands, pushing his legs open, dragging him back to be IMPALED. A familiar face hooked over Damian's shoulder, smiling down at him. Dick is-? AH!

Tim's brain feels like it's short circuiting. He's gripping Damian's waist. Lifting him and rocking him down in time with his own movements. Tim cant..can't... too much! Dick is pounding his spots! HE'S pounding Damian's. Who keeps getting so tight, twitching and fluttering, like his trying to rip the orgasm right out of him! They're whining and sobbing and all Dick does is coo that they're doing so GOOD.

Then Tim is FILLING that tight hole above him. Watchs limp and fucked dumb as Damian is pulled off him and finished by Dick. All but squeeling at the sudden increase in thickness and his orgasm is pounded out of him. Tim's not sure he has bones anymore.

He definitely doesn't by morning.

Dick has clearly decided he LOVES their "get along" method. And won't hear anything to the contrary. Is already planning to invite Jason over for "family therapy". Tim blames Damian. Damian blames Tim. Both of their asses are probably bruised and they can't move.

At least the Dick cuddles are nice.

-🐼

tim being squished in the middle of a sandwich where he's getting fucked 🥰🥰🥰🥰!!!!

68 notes · View notes

stargirl-chimes · 14 days

Note

Do you know if anyone has written or plans to write a fic about your moonspirit sokka au? I absolutely love it and want to read a fic if there is one

Here are all the ones I know about!!

The sun and the moon (ao3) - “You want to leave him here,” she murmured. They both knew it to be true, but to hear it aloud somewhat shocked the Southern Chieftess. But she couldn’t deny it.

“I— it isn’t that I don’t want him. I love him with my whole heart, Laya, I don’t know what I would do if he had died. But… I…”

“You want him to stay close to Tui.”

“I feel like if he leaves her, he’ll die.” She looked down to the boy, patting his back. “Does that make me a terrible mother? Am I—”

“I feel it’s the best… I spoke with Tui last night, with Yue. She wants him here. He is as much her son as yours. I feel… I feel as though he needs to be here.”

Moon Touched (ao3) - Au created by @peachieflame on insta. Au where sokka is prince of the northern water tribe, where zuko is sent to study their culture (gather intel). Sokka slowly falls for the awkward prince.

Dilema (ao3) - Prince Sokka, next in line for the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe, wasn’t sure what to expect when he met Prince Zuko.

Royal zukka RWRB au (ao3) - Sokka accidentally falls into an ice sculpture with one (1) prince of the fire nation, Zuko. This leads to a forced diplomatic friendship to a genuine one and then they becomes lovers???

Royal Arrangement (ao3) - Zuko was not excited. Zuko knew as the Crowned Prince of the Fire Nation he’d have to be married one day, and he knew it would most likely be an arranged marriage.

What Zuko never imagined was that he’d be marrying the prince of the Northern Water Tribe.

1K notes · View notes

stargirl-chimes · 18 days

Text

Sexy girls masturbating live from here

3K notes · View notes

stargirl-chimes · 21 days

Text

It just seems to be self-evident to me that a lot of the Batboys had/have/will eventually develop a homoerotic fixation with their older heroes/comrades. Fifteen year old Jay casting sideways glances at Discowing and Batman undressing in the locker room. Tim having photos of the older robins pinned up next to his bed - ostensibly because they’re his heroes but really as a spank bank. No, Jason dying didn’t make Tim any less likely to think about him, only occasionally cry while jerking off. Damian once he gets to a certain age will also start ogling Jason or Cass in the locker room when no one’s looking.

Like it just makes sense.

354 notes · View notes

stargirl-chimes · 21 days

Text

soap; control [mature]

[mwii] trans john mactavish x cis male reader soap literally riding the shit out of you

cw: explicit smut; penetration (p in v sex); pwp; overstimulation

—

"You can take it, can't you?" He looses a laugh into your ear when you nod your head with such fevered vigor you nearly headbutt him. "Yeah, that's a good boy. Ye fill me up so well."

Soap feels the hot pool of arousal in his belly run deeper as you whimper at his words, throwing your head back and thrusting your hips up and into his. It's like you can barely take it but want to do everything to please him.

And through the haze of his own belly-deep pleasure, through the feel of your cock stretching him and nudging against a spot inside him so good he feels tears prick his eyes, Soap understands. He understands why this is so hard for his boy. Because even he can just barely take what he gives you. Because whenever he slows down, he makes sure to give your cock a tight kegel squeeze so that his pussy feels more like a hot fist of velvet than a smooth, welcoming hole. He wants to make it hurt for you.

Even then, he never relents. Whenever you bare your throat to him, chest heaving, Soap thumbs the peaks of your nipples and rubs his tongue in loving circles just beneath your ear. Makes sure he trails it down the outline of your throat so that every inch of your skin feels his lips. You seem to melt every time he does it, wrapping a hand around his bicep to cling to him as he rides you and licks the sweat off your skin.

And the sounds you make are delicious. If he weren't bouncing on top of you, he'd be weak in the knees and on the floor. He tries to memorize each of your whimpers, each of your exhales, even as he lifts his hips and slams them down faster than a second can pass. Every time your mouth opens around a moan, he drags his body upward to tilt your mouth up to his by the back of your head with one of his hands, moving to trail his tongue along your lips in a quick movement before pushing it inside your mouth. When he does that, your body gives a precious little shiver. But even for him, the warmth in two of his holes is too much.

"God, Johnny," you groan. It's one of the deep ones. A rumble from within your chest. "You feel so good. Make me feel so good."

He lifts his head from his work. His eyes go as soft as yours when he looks at you. His rhythm slows as you bring both your hands up to cup his face and press your mouth to his. He can feel every little jolt of sensation as your lips separate then come together again as you move your mouth against his. You kiss him slowly. And he reciprocates, even with your cock pulsating wildly in his walls. He'd gotten you so close. He supposes the change in pace will be alright, even though he'd planned on riding you till you could shoot nothing but blanks.

And he deems the change beautiful as you part from the kiss to press your forehead to his. You give a chaste kiss to his mouth and whisper three words that have your lips brushing his with each syllable.

"I love you, too," he says.

But you don't stop there.

"I love you," you tell him, hands moving to wrap around his hips and grind him against your thighs, against your pelvis. Helps him catch the nerves on his clit just right. Soap gives a soft gasp. "I love you, Johnny. I love you" —A breathless pause as his pussy squeezes you— "So much."

He leans into a hand you bring to his face. Lets himself savor the sensation of being made love to by his beautiful, beautiful boy. Then he rises to his knees and drops down onto your cock once again. It slides into him with pure perfection. He can fucking taste how good it feels.

But then you look away, drive your head into the pillow as the dredges of your impending orgasm rise to a wave. He pulls your gaze back to him, taking your chin between his fingers.

"You look away and I'll stop, (Y/N)."

Your face goes tight. And when his pace returns to that fast one-two-three-four, almost as fast as him when sniping, your eyes flutter.

"Fuck, John!"

"Know you're close, honey," he gives you a shaky grin. God, he's fucking close, too. "Come, fill me up."

Those words and three fast bounces is all it takes. With his chest pressed to yours, he watches as your face contorts, your brows coming together as your cock spills cum inside him. Looks like it hurts, for you. Even then, he doesn't stop. He keeps fucking you even as you writhe beneath him with your orgasm.

"That's a good boy," he whispers over and over as you cum, your back arching. Body heaving as you cry out in loud, high-pitched moans that have him squeezing you tighter.

"That's a good boy," he says one last time, words slurring together as his thrusts finally bring him over the edge. He doesn't even have to reach for that little constitution of nerves. Not with you. The pleasure has him shaking. Then you're plowing your cock into him from your supine position, fucking him through his orgasm. You have him moaning like an animal as he rakes his nails into your shoulders, using the muscle there for purchase and your cock for the culmination of his pleasure. There's a little curl to your lip, a wince that shows him that even for you the overstimulation borders on too much. But you fuck him so good, help him finish so well that he thinks it might not even exist for you.

And when you don't stop, not even after his body falls limp, he begins to believe that it really doesn't.

"(Y/N)," he says through a throaty gasp. "(Y/N), wait..."

"Naw, Johnny." You give him a dangerous grin. It's all teeth, with cocky lover written across your face. "Feel like giving you another. So I will."

His teeth scrape together. Lips press into a thin line. Even then, he'll take it.

Because he knows that he still has a self-made promise to fulfill.

He's so going to ride you till you're shooting blanks.

557 notes · View notes

stargirl-chimes · 21 days

Text

i need ghoap frantically making out against a door finally taking the leap on their feelings. need ghost grinding against soap, expecting to find him just as hard as him, only to feel nothing

and in all his wisdom and experience, he concludes soap was tortured and never told him

he’s trying to think of a delicate way to say he understands, that he’s been through it and it doesn’t change anything about how he feels (and who the fuck touched him so he can hunt them down and rend them limb from limb)

meanwhile trans!soap’s just trying to find the best angle to grind his cunt on ghost’s thigh

just it never even entering ghost’s head bc he’s never known a trans person but he has met plenty of people who’ve been tortured - himself included - so of course that’s his logical leap

soap takes off his shirt and he sees his top surgery scars and ghost asks if he wants him to kill the one who did it and soap just hums like, “actually, man did pretty good, they healed real well,” and ghost’s just teary-eyes with awe at how well he’s coping, “looking on the bright side, that’s my johnny.”

imagine he thinks johnny was fully castrated but sees he’s determined to still have a sex life with him so he buys packers and straps to help him bc hell yeah healing and soap’s just like, “holy shit i’ve never had such a thoughtful partner before, such a sweet man, lt.”

516 notes · View notes

stargirl-chimes · 24 days

Text

you ask, i deliver! here's ghost.. maybe not quite moaning, but something close enough ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) whole thing lovingly crafted from his official voicelines.

[enjoyed? reblog! <3]

842 notes · View notes

stargirl-chimes · 25 days

Text

Hello. I have never read a single DC comic (unless squirrel girl counts) and my only exposure to the batfam is the Lego Batman Movie and Tumblr. Here is my pitch for a new comic.

Quite a bit that I've seen is that Bruce, in later comics, is becoming a worse and more manipulative person, especially towards Jason and Tim. Why don't we play into this, and make him worse, intentionally?

I propose a limited edition run, set in an alternate timeline where Bruce becomes a worse and worse father, and then a worse and worse person. In Comic 1, maybe we end with killing the Joker: breaking the moral he is most loyal to.

From there, he will progressively and steadily get worse and worse until he unrecognisable, until someone (Dick, maybe?) dramatically reveals the truth to him: that he's turning into what he's supposed to hate and supposed to fight.

Idk, this has just been a thought in my mind since I've seen people talk about how much they want Bruce to actually be a good father and person in future runs.

#batman bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #dc

40 notes · View notes

stargirl-chimes · 25 days

Text

A Thought™️ that I had yesterday after watching those AITA videos and babbling in the discord:

(This is also babble to be clear. I’ve been writing this throughout the morning so it might be a bit incoherent)

The 141 is shopping for a new team member, someone to round out their four person squad into five. They have a dozen candidates, pick one that looks promising, and transfer him over under the military equivalent of “probationary” status.

Pretty quickly they decide his personality alone might not make him a good fit but whatever, if he’s good at his job, they’ll suck it up. The “alpha male” posturing bullshit is kind of amusing in the meantime at least.

Well, first mission comes and goes. The guy isn’t too bad, honestly — apart from almost picking a fight with Gaz. Skills-wise he’s as advertised, so he gets to stay a bit longer while the 141 decides if they can stand him.

Post successful mission, though, they go out for drinks at the guy’s insistence. He invites his girlfriend — who he dragged along with him — to the bar to meet his new squad. (Because he thinks there’s no way they’re not making him a permanent teammate.)

And the 141 may be barely tolerant of him, but they decide almost instantly that they adore his girlfriend. She’s incredibly charming and bubbly, doesn’t even blink at Ghost’s mask. One of the first things she does is thank them for the opportunity they’re giving her boyfriend and for keeping him alive.

Which is about the time the real issue starts.

The boyfriend says some rubbish about “an alpha doesn’t need protecting, he does the protecting. He looks out for his pack.”

And you smile a bit awkwardly, looking embarrassed, and try to usher the conversation along.

It doesn’t take long for him to quickly fall out of what little favor he accrued. You’re a bright spot in their group, laughing and chatting with them all like you’ve known them for years. Incredibly sensitive to asking any hard questions and sort of forcing the conversation through the weird patches where your boyfriend interjects with some inane comment.

Eventually, your boyfriend gets sick of your chattering and tells you to fetch them more drinks. Soap instantly sits up, saying you don’t have to do that, but you gently wave him off. Chirp that you don’t mind doing it as a thank you for their service, and weave into the crowd.

The table goes uncomfortable quiet — apart from your boyfriend, who makes some ghastly comment about how you have a pretty face but an annoying laugh. When you get back, drinks expertly balanced in your hands, Ghost goes out of his way to drop puns that get you giggling like mad.

As the night ticks later, and your boyfriend gets drunker, he reaches the point you always dread.

“Garrick, le’s arm wrestle.”

“Baby, I don’t think that’s…”

“This is between us men.”

You groan a bit and sit back. Gaz looks befuddled but shrugs and agrees. It’s not even a contest; your boyfriend’s arm is flat to the table in all of ten seconds. Flustered, your boyfriend demands a rematch. And when he loses again, scoffs and demands a go with Soap.

You practically sink deeper and deeper into your seat before the secondhand embarrassment starts to weigh and you have to excuse yourself to the restroom. When you get back, the impromptu arm wrestling seems to be over, though your boyfriend is sulking in his corner of the booth.

When you gingerly slide back in, Price nudges you with his calf.

“Would you like a go, luv?”

You grin and shake your head. “I don’t fancy a broken wrist, Captain.”

“C’mon luv, you might surprise yourself,” he teases and you can’t resist the playful glint in his eye.

So you lock your thumb around his, elbow on the table, and push. And his arm incrementally goes down… down… down…

“Well would you look at that,” he muses.

You burst into laughter, flattered and endeared by his indulgence.

“That tough, eh?” Soap muses, arching an eyebrow. “Let’s see it, then.”

So you roll your eyes, fully expecting to get trounced. But just like with Price, he starts to relent when you put up resistance, making a show of straining and panting as he “loses.” When you’ve won, you finally play into the joke.

“Serves you right,” you tease.

By your side, you hear your boyfriend huff derisively. “Oh, come on.”

Before your fun can be ruined, though, Ghost is offering you his hand, dark eyes sparkling. You bite your lip, but it doesn’t hide your grin as you accept the unspoken challenge. His hand is huge around yours, but shockingly gentle. He goes down easiest of all, whistling in amazement.

“Look’it that, you’re a pro,” he says, “think we should all be buying you a drink.”

“She doesn’t drink,” your boyfriend interjects.

You huff and settle back into the booth. “Maybe some other time, Lieutenant Riley?”

“Count on it.”

You get into an argument with your boyfriend that night. He thinks you were “challenging his dominance” and “stirring the pot,” trying to sew discord and strife amongst the men to get them fighting over you. He says something about being the alpha of the group and that he would win but it’s insulting to him as your “provider” that you would question his authority.

He’s tipsy as he says it though, working himself up. You just follow the usual routine of soothing, reassuring, simpering — and then considering leaving when he’s finally asleep. But you’re far from home, don’t have the means to leave, and besides, you won’t be finding any support from your family on this front so…

Well, it’s not so bad, you remind yourself. He can be an asshole, but so can you and it takes two to fight. Besides, he only gets really bad when he’s been drinking and that’s only once a week? 1 out of 7 isn’t a bad ratio.

—

The 141 pretty much collectively decide that they adore you though. You get regularly invited to team outings, wherein your boyfriend keeps challenging (and losing) arm wrestling, while the boys coax you into “winning.”

They’ve also become rather adamant that you don’t bring them drinks anymore.

“You’re not our personal beer wench, yeah? We’re able to get our own pints,” Gaz soothes.

Your boyfriend chuckles and shakes his head, imparts his “wisdom” that it’s a female’s job to serve her man and his friends. As a sign of respect or something. You know it’s not an argument worth having and just sip at your drink in silence.

But you love going out with them. Love knowing the men keeping your boyfriend alive and they’re a good bunch. Respectful and funny and disciplined — you’re kind of hoping they snap your boyfriend out of this weird “alpha male” phase he’s been going through. On the other hand, you’re thrilled to be making something like friends. Sure, your boyfriend has made it clear that the 141 are his friends, but they’re always so conscious of keeping you involved and comfortable.

Then one night your boyfriend mentions what a “good little cook” you are and that instantly has all the boys perking up. Smiling, you offer to host during the Saturday League matches. They gleefully accept over your boyfriend’s protests about other men in his territory or something like that.

But when they do come over they’re horrified by the unspoken expectations. You tell them to sit, that you’ll bring them all drinks, with snacks on the way. They’ll be having none of it.

Ghost helps you with drinks, Gaz chops the veggies for snacks (and dinner). Soap pops in to keep you company while you babysit simmering pots. Price helps to tidy as you go, despite you’re fussing that he really doesn’t need to, he should be enjoying the games!

They end up spending more time with you in the kitchen than out in the den with their own teammate. You barely notice, swept up in the busy currents of playing hostess. When your boyfriend shouts that he needs another beer, you come back to find Price getting plates and utensils for dinner. It’s so thoughtful you could cry.

Even worse is when they help you clean up afterwards. Each of them taking and clearing their own plates. Soap on washing big dishes, Gaz on drying. Ghost is packing up leftovers. Price is turning over the dishwasher, asking you where dishes go and tutting when you insist you should be helping.

All the while, your boyfriend stands in the doorway telling you all the ways you could improve the meal next time. And how you definitely ate too much for your body size, etc.

He only stops when Price makes a pointed comment about standing around looking pretty.

When they leave, they each sweep you up in a hug and drop a kiss on your cheek, praising your home and cooking and hosting. Soap promises that he’ll get you a little souvenir on their next mission as a thank you.

And sure enough, three weeks later, the boys are coming by. Except your boyfriend is nowhere to be found — out with some other guys from the base that he says he hit it off with. The 141 insist that he agreed to a football watch again, the empty headed muppet.

And of course you’re not going to turn them away! They’ve brought you flowers, a little matryoshka set from their last mission, chocolates and wine. Not one of them is empty handed.

“Do you even like the game?” Gaz asks as you put it on.

“My favorite team isn’t playing until tomorrow but I don’t mind watching,” you answer, shrugging.

But somehow no football is watched at all. Instead they convince you to tell them your top three favorite movies, then claim none of them have ever seen any of them and they have to watch all of them.

Which is how your boyfriend finds his whole team enjoying a little movie marathon with you. You’re on the ground with Johnny (it’s Johnny now, for you) doing his eyebrows. Gaz is braiding your hair. Ghost (Simon) is sharing a bowl of candies with you. You’re sat against Price’s shins, the captain sitting in your boyfriend’s chair, lounging like a king.

When you welcome him back, telling him the boys are staying the night, he tries to throw a fit about it. How dare you let four strange men stay alone with you?! You calmly remind him that he promised he’d be home by 11 and it’s already nearly 1. And besides, he trusts them with his life, you’re allowed to trust them to be polite in your own home.

With all four of his teammates watching, tense and nearly hostile, he mutters something about being tired and storms off to bed. You end up falling asleep on the couch with ghost despite yourself.

And your boyfriend becomes absolutely haunted by his team’s (is it even his team? It feels more like yours!) affection for you.

They always invite you out even if he doesn’t plan to invite you. (When did you get any of their numbers?! Never mind Ghost’s. He doesn’t even have Ghost’s number.)

They stop by the flat constantly, sometimes dropping in. Other times staying for hours. Soap tells him that they’re all one big family; that includes you. (“Alright then why don’t we go hang out with one of your girlfriends?!” He had an actual nightmare about the laughter that gets him.)

And the fucking gifts. It’s not just soap bringing you things anymore. It’s all of them. Magnets, mugs, sweets, pretty rocks. Just garbage to your boyfriend but you treat it all like treasure. They’ve even got you sending them on hunts for specific things. Something blue, something with nuts, something with the flag.

Then there’s the base.

They bring you on one day — Price picks you up, the boys greet you at the barracks with coffee and breakfast. You’re put into a big 141 hoodie that says “Riley” on the back and toured around. You’re supposed to be “surprising” your boyfriend, but he’s busy with recruits and generally seems uninterested in being around you.

Not to worry though, the 141 is happy to show you a good time around base! Gaz and Johnny walk you through one of the obstacle courses, Simon lets you sit on his back for pushups during the last of his workout. Price takes you to the range and shows you the basics of shooting, then lets you catnap through the adrenaline drop in his office.

Your boyfriend only bothers to find you when Johnny and Simon are teaching you basic self-defense. Your boyfriend scoffs that you’re plenty protected by him, but you point out that he’s away too often to be of any real help — at which point Johnny tags you and bolts before your boyfriend can get all up in arms.

You only recognize that this little hurdle in your relationship has become a chasm when something happens. A big argument with your parents over the phone — you barely even remember what about. But instead of calling your boyfriend afterwards, your first call is to Gaz. (Because you know he’s the most likely to be free and paying attention to his phone.) You’re almost shocked when he picks up on the second ring. Your boyfriend has never answered on the first call.

When you try to explain through poorly-restrained tears, he coos at you to find a warm coffee shop and that they’ll be right there. “They” ends up being him and Johnny, since Simon and Price are locked up in an important meeting. They buy you hot chocolate and pastries while you vent to them, and end up leaving feeling better for once.

But you can’t break up with your boyfriend. Because if you do, the 141 will surely stop hanging out with you, and you value their company enough to put up with it.

At least until you come home one day to find all your little gifts gone. When you ask through a tight throat where everything is, your boyfriend says he was just making space. That you’ve been complaining that you two need a bigger flat, but now he’s solved the problem without wasting money.

You actually raise your voice for once, throwing an entire fit because this. This is the last straw. You storm into your bedroom, slam and lock the door, and call the 141.

A small part of you expects they’ll take his side or something. But nope. Simon soothes you on the other end, that the whole squad will be there in fifteen and to pack your stuff.

You do so while Price takes over and keeps you level. Reminds you of essentials to pack and explains that you’ll be coming to stay at his place, since he’s got off-base housing. It’ll be quiet and cozy and safe while you recover.

Five minutes away, they promise to be right there and end the call.

You could absolutely scream when your boyfriend — ex boyfriend — starts banging on the door. Demanding that you open the door to him. That you’re being over dramatic and blowing everything out of proportion. Using the “your emotional and irrational” line that you’ve heard a thousand times and are just about sick of.

Your heart stutters with relief when you hear the knocking at the apartment door, confused silence as your ex goes to see who it is. You take that moment to slip out, packed suitcase in hand.

You startle a bit at some commotion, round the corner to see your ex’s shirt bunched up in Johnny’s fists, looking ready kill him. No one seems inclined to pull him away; neither are you.

“How are you holding up, luv?” Gaz asks gently as Simon takes your bag.

“Been better,” you admit, sniffling as Price wraps you up in a hug.

“It was just things, luv,” he soothes, “we’ll get you a million more, if you like.”

You pull back to give him a miserable look. “But they were my things and they didn’t have to go anywhere. He just threw them out.”

Johnny snarls something out, but Gaz is already ushering you out the door. You tell your family about the break up through text and then shut off your phone, bundled into the backseat of an SUV with Gaz in the backseat. Price is in the front, all of you waiting for Simon and Johnny to come down.

“What now?” you ask quietly.

“Well, about time we cut that knob loose,” Price muses. “But that’s not your problem anymore.”

“Oh…

“And you, luv.” He looks at you through the rear view. “You get whatever you want.”

3K notes · View notes