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bearfoottruck · 1 month

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FANFIC UPDATE 5-3-2024:

I don't have much other than an update for Gonna Kiss You On the Boulevard (Fanfiction, AO3). However, speaking of My Hero Academia fics, I thought I'd mention all the ones I've written thus far.

MULTI-CHAPTER FICS:

My Hero Cannonball (Fanfiction, AO3): When the Japanese government threatens to pull funding for UA, Deku gets an idea during a foreign film festival at Todoroki's house: enter the Cannonball Run - America's craziest, most dangerous coast-to-coast road race - not only as a form of protest, but to win enough prize money to keep UA afloat. Rated T for automotive and superhero violence, some language and suggestive content. Takes place between Seasons 2 and 3.

My Special Affair (Fanfiction, AO3): Todoroki is an NYPD detective working for the Supernatural Crimes Unit as its only member. His job is to hunt vampires, werewolves, zombies and other supernatural nasties that threaten the Big Apple. One day, he gets a report of an especially aggressive vampire known only as the "Binge Drinker", but has no clue who it is. Then, one night, he is attacked by a vampire, only for a young woman to save his life. However, could there be more to her? Rated M for strong language, graphic violence and explicit sexual content. Also contains male-on-female violence. Fem!Izuku Fem!Deku

Todoroki and His Women (Fanfiction, AO3): Todoroki retires from Endeavor's agency to start his own. However, he gets an unexpected surprise when all of his applicants turn out to be women. Together, they'll laugh and cry as they do their best to clean up the streets of Los Angeles. Rated T for violence, language, situations of intense peril, general sexism and alcohol references. Fem!Izuku Fem!Deku.

Todoroki's Laughing Problem (Fanfiction, AO3): During the UA Christmas Party, Eri's lack of common holiday knowledge causes Todoroki to burst out laughing, and now he can't contain himself, much to the chagrin of his fellow students. Rated T for Kacchan swearing, some violence and some suggestive content. Takes place during Season 5, with references to World Heroes' Mission.

Nitro and Acid (Fanfiction, AO3): For years, Kacchan has blasted his way through the streets of Chicago, not particularly caring about anyone or anything except kicking villains' asses and earning a sweet paycheck while doing it. Then, one day, he meets Ashido while grocery shopping, and she becomes infatuated with him. Ostensibly, he wants nothing to do with her, but deep down inside, he's gone crazy for her. Can he put aside his foul attitude and learn to love? Rated M for strong language, violence, sexual content and a brief mention of "rape".

Russian Winter, Broken Hearts (Fanfiction, but will be on AO3 eventually): Sidequel to Gonna Kiss You On the Boulevard Chapter 22, "Super Bomb". After Deku, Todoroki and Tsu's mission to recover the Poseidon under Selkie's command, Russia delivers Japan an ultimatum: either return the bomb or risk war. In the meantime, UA gets a visit from students hailing from a Serbian hero school. Little does anyone know, they'll be in for a fight of international proportions. Rated T for war violence, language and suggestive content. Contains resources to help Ukraine. Fem!Todoroki

Hero Enforcement Regiment (Fanfiction, AO3): Izuko Midoriya serves as "Deko", the Symbol of Peace, but one day, she finds rumors of heroes abusing their powers for personal gain. She doesn't want to believe it, but then one night, another hero attempts to rape her. She fights him off, but is absolutely shattered by the experience, so much so that she founds her own hero agency to combat corrupt heroes. Rated T for violence, language, attempted rape and some suggestive content. Loosely inspired by The Boys. Fem!Izuku Fem!Deku

The Four Horsemen (Fanfiction, AO3): Crossover with Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir. Adrien, Marinette, and a few other students visit UA High. However, two issues arise: 1. One of the students is secretly a traitor, and 2. Two of the students are cheating on each other with students from UA. Rated T for violence, brief strong language and suggestive content. Fem!Izuku Fem!Deku

ONE-SHOTS:

An Unexpected Check-In (Fanfiction, AO3): After Tsu's breakdown in front of Class 1-A, Deku checks on her the day after to make sure she's okay. Takes place during Season 3.

Thank You For Your Cheerfulness (Fanfiction, AO3): Todoroki tells Ashido the thing he admires about her the most.

Giving Deku a Hand (Fanfiction, AO3): Fem!Todoroki explores Deku's anatomy. Rated M for sexual content.

Todoroki Gets It On (Fanfiction, AO3): Todoroki and Fem!Deku make sweet love. Rated M for sexual content.

Deku Saves Father's Day (Fanfiction, AO3): Todoroki is having a horrible time on Father's Day, but Deku helps him out. Rated T for brief strong language.

Todoroki Is On Fanfiction Friday Fire (Fanfiction, AO3): Todoroki has been uploading a lot of fanfiction lately, and Ashido takes positive notice.

You Don't Have to Be Angry Anymore (Fanfiction, AO3): Todoroki is having a horrible time, and Fem!Deku does her best to cheer him up. Rated T for brief strong language.

Half-Cold, Half-Hot, All-Loving (Fanfiction exclusive): A short poem about TodoDeku.

Caring In Pink (Fanfiction, AO3): Ashido checks up on Kacchan. Rated T for Kacchan being Kacchan.

If You Need Passion, It's Close At Hand (Fanfiction, AO3): Fem!Todoroki is having a lonely time, but Deku soothes her. Rated M for sexual content.

TodoDeku Hug (Fanfiction, AO3): Todoroki and Fem!Deku give each other a hug.

BakuMina Hug (Fanfiction, AO3): Kacchan and Ashido give each other a hug.

KamiJiro Hug: (Fanfiction, AO3): Kaminari and Jiro give each other a hug.

It's-a Me, Midoriya (Fanfiction, AO3): Deku and Class 1-a celebrate Mario Day. Rated T for Kacchan's mouth. Fem!Kacchan Fem!Todoroki

Trying New Fandoms (Fanfiction, AO3): Todoroki writes a fanfic for a fandom he never wrote for before, much to Ashido's joy.

Todoroki's Fanfic Mistake (Fanfiction, AO3): Ashido gets upset because of a fic that Todoroki wrote.

A Special Morning After (Fanfiction exclusive): The morning after Todoroki and Fem!Deku make sweet love, they have pancakes. Rated T for suggestive content.

A Heroes' Lunch (Fanfiction, AO3): Crossover between Sonic the Hedgehog and MHA. The Sonic and MHA casts celebrate National Chicken Wing Day together.

A Letter From a New Friend (Fanfiction, AO3): Sequel to The Four Horsemen. Todoroki gets a letter from Adrien.

Welcome and Comfort (AO3 exclusive): Fem!Deku helps a new student who's feeling lonely.

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shtuff-hello · 1 year

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I NEED HELP!

Finding a fanfic that I lost about a week (or a month) ago—though I don’t know when the original was posted. It was a bkdk fic, where Bakugou and Deku we're just leaving a building they had evacuated everyone else out of, when it collapses. Bakugou gets knocked out and he wakes up to find deku holding a giant slab of concrete over them as a shield from fall debris.

Eventually they get rescued and from there on it's a recovery story, that I don't remember much of, but I //want// to. I want to reread this story, I want to give it a place of honor, but I can find it, please help me. If you know this fic, tell me the name.

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apollo-cackling · 1 year

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tbh I already like frozen 2 as it is (if mostly bc I love elsa lol) but it's frustrating how close it is to being objectively better than average this is definitely from me thinking about I Seek the Truth too much

like the "I need to know who you were / to know who I am meant to be" in I Seek the Truth with the "You are the one you've been waiting for / all of my life" it would've been so good if the movie zeroed in on that made the person elsa's chasing specifically trails her mother left her instead of just some generic Voice make the movie specifically about overcoming parental neglect and the need to base your life around your parents

and then strengthen the generational trauma bit by showing runeard's effects on agnarr (bc really aside from the magic bit he really seems the "spare the rod and spoil the chlid" type) and the war's and how her isolation from her own culture in an environment that hates who she is if she lets it show's effects on iduna and suddenly the story's directly about how generational trauma affects people and elsa and anna freeing themselves of those shackles instead of some Disney Generic believe in yourself

into the unknown's a powerhouse song but thematically I seek the truth is so much better and agh

#the colonialism bit would still be a bit weak I think but yk.#I should write that fanfic #I haven't watched aaaaany of the recent disney movies at all so if generational trauma is a trend among them I didn't know that lol #this is heavily influenced by the way crypid by spookyscaryskeletons characterises them lol #I'm not saying the story's *not* already about generational trauma I just wish it zeroed in on it lol #it's not that deep / no but the ground is soft and I'm ready to dig etc etc #or maybe in this case the ground isn't soft but I have enough nostalgia that I'm willing to dig #my rambles #frozen

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ollydee · 5 months

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might write more starling fanfic...

#starlingstory #fanfic #yup #im thinking #au where they're roommates #like it's #not really an au #it starts with them deciding to room together next semester #and then the article happens #and then it's next semester and elliott and roy are roommates but elliott is FURIOUS AT ROY #and roy has to start from ground zero again #and also they're roommates and elliott is like #getting taller and bigger n shit #and is hot #and roy's like #navigating confusing feelings and missing his friend #and then they fuck obvs

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loveindefinitely · 5 months

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༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

01 — TOO YOUNG TO KNOW IT GETS BETTER

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

You almost worshipped him.

It wasn’t because of his status – although, that certainly played a role in it all – and it wasn’t because of his bank statements.

No. Phillip Graves was one of the best men you’d ever known.

Or so you had thought.

Turns out, no matter how well he looked after his men – his ‘girl’ – and no matter how charismatic he was, that wouldn’t, couldn't change his roots. And, at those very roots, was decay. Evil in its most purest of forms; a tantalisingly devastating mix of every sin.

The most prevalent one?

Greed.

He was a greedy, greedy man, and he would stop at nothing to have it all. Even if he knew the fall out; even if he knew that he could never go back to the man he once was.

Phillip Graves didn’t care. Not in the slightest.

And it was you that would pay the ultimate price.

Rain beats down your back in heavy sheets as you stand, the harsh night littered with flashlights and car sirens.

It’s cool, just this side of too cold, and it has the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the temperature.

The temperature, and…

“Yup-yup,” the two men to your right call into their comms. You remain silent, but it goes unnoticed. Your eyes are trained to the paved street, rippling with the rainwater, littered with streaks of red.

Blood stains this town, and you haven't done anything to stop it.

“Let’s go.”

Raising your head, you meet the eyes of the operative who, ranks-wise, is below you. Really, you should be reprimanding him for his quip, but you understand the annoyance. You’re being quiet – something quite unusual for your normally direct and authoritative nature.

Tightening your grip around the shiny, water-slicked gun in your hand, you give him a sharp nod in response.

Seemingly satisfied, he turns, and you follow him along the sidewalk of the narrow, stone streets. Shops line either side of the area, their front-windows smashed and the products inside thrown about.

It’s like your heart has launched itself into your throat, the constant thrum of it setting your nerves alight.

“Three-zero, I want you and your two to find those Brits. We’ve got the cops. Copy?”

That once reassuring, adoring voice is now cold, void of any emotion he used to have. It makes tears burn at the back of your vision – if you were a weaker woman, they’d have fallen. Instead, you press down the button for your comms.

“Copy, Sir. Three-zero out.”

The fact that you manage to get those words out is a feat in and of its own.

It feels as though you’re lost at sea, with nothing to hold onto. Buoyant, but barely – every wave threatening to pull you under for good. To smother your silent cries for help, for guidance, for something to keep you grounded.

But there is no sea, and there is no support.

“You two go up ahead, I’ll search the house here,” you say, voice thick with demand. You didn’t have to decide anything right now. You just had to be the leader you were, and do what you’ve always done.

“Copy,” your two subordinates say, moving up further.

With their absence, you find that you can breathe – as if a weight has been lifted off of your chest, and you can finally fill your lungs.

You’re alive. You’re alive. You’re alive.

The mantra helps, surprisingly, and you hold onto those two words like they’re your only lifeline.

Through the thick of night and rain, you can see the door to the house on your left. It’s been left open, which means that either it’s already been searched – which you doubt – or… Someone else has been in there.

Gun secured in your grip, you move to the door with soft footing, quiet enough to not be heard over the shouts of other shadows just a few ways away. The constant pattering of the overhead storm clouds slow, just the slightest, allowing for a bit more sight.

Using your shoulder to further open the door with a creak, you take note of your surroundings immediately.

There’s a flickering light to the room on your far right, a living area, most likely. To your left is a short hallway, but none of the doors alert you of any occupancy. The place has been torn apart, pictures scattered along the wooden floor, shards of glass decorating the space along with it.

It sends a pang of guilt through your chest.

These were families being torn apart by your commander, your company. And for what? What was Graves’ angle here?

You’d been left on base to keep things running smoothly while Graves and unit one worked with the 141 and Las Vaqueros. You knew very little about any of this, and when you’d been called out to Las Almas, to aid with this?

This wasn’t what you fought for. This wasn’t what you would ever support, not in a million years.

But going against direct orders was going against your commander, and your livelihood. Shadow Company was all you’d known since your childhood. Having been hired when Graves was merely a young-upstart with big dreams, you were quickly swept up in the community of it all. They were your family, and Graves was the only semblance of a ‘loved one’ you had.

And now?

Now, he was sending you on a bounty hunt, for two men who, from your limited knowledge, didn’t deserve death. They were the good guys, and although most of your existing bias towards the two was due to rumours back on base, your intuition said that they were good men. And your intuition had never steered you wrong, not once.

Your mind feels like a never ending turbine as you move through the house, eyeing the barren walls and smashed vases.

Exhaling a low, deep breath, you tighten your hold on your weapon. It’s more of a comfort, at this point. Which is odd, considering that its sole purpose is to kill and destroy.

Through the dim light, you manage to find a set of stairs. They’re dingy, and the patterned carpet is mildew-riddled as you make your way to the next floor with slow, careful steps.

You’ve decided to keep your flashlight off, just in case it brings any extra attention to you.

As soon as you make it to the last step, a sense of… wrongness settles in your system. Something’s off, and it’s almost as if there’s an alarm ringing in your ears at the realisation.

Someone’s here.

Grounding yourself, both mentally and physically, you prepare to push through the hallway.

Setting aside your mental dilemma, you remind yourself that the physical battle is far more vital to your life right now. If you lose that, you lose your life.

If you lose your morals?

You just suppose you lose yourself.

The sound of a radio switching on has your senses alerted like a switchboard completely alight.

Stepping into the hallway, your chest constricting, you snap your gaze to both of your sides. With the little-to-no light, you can barely make out your limbs, let alone your surroundings. Your spatial awareness was solid, but with conditions like this? Near impossible.

The entire corridor is shrouded in shadow, the incessant rain outside and the screams of the cartel’s policemen ringing in your ears.

It reeks of death and despair, and your skin is coated in a thin sheen of chilled sweat.

The third door to your left is creaked open, just the slightest sliver, but it catches your attention like a moth to a flame. Keeping your frame encased in the darkest of the shadows, you move with patient, skillful steps towards the door.

A moment passes, tense and nerve-wracking in a way no other mission has ever been.

A breath in.

A breath out.

You push open the door, gun raised, ready for anything –

Nothing.

Quickly checking over the room to your right, you see nothing but bashed up mattresses and blood-stained carpet.

Just as you’re about to turn to check behind the door, two things happen at once.

One, you get slammed to the ground, your head knocking against the hard flooring and sending a burst of pain through your temple, your gun skidding across the floor to your left.

Two –

“Fuckin’ Christ!”

A man – scottish, that much is prevalent – whisper-shouts. You squint, the pain of the sudden fall throwing you off.

Not a second later, however, you manage to roll, shoving him off of you with a grunt. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness, but you manage to make out the impossibly muscled frame of the man who’d just fallen on top of you.

He’s tall, not as giant as some of the men you served alongside with, but tall nonetheless. That’s all of the visual information you manage to gain before he sends an elbow to your gut, evoking a hiss through your gritted teeth.

You wriggle away, kicking out with your right foot and hitting what you think is his chin, considering his pained grunt.

“You bloody bastard,” he snaps, hand wrapping around your ankle and pulling you.

Your responding squeak is likely the most undignified sound you have ever made in your life, but it gives the man pause. Enough of one so as to allow you to wrench your leg back and careen it back into his face.

“Shut the fuck up!” You hiss back, all too aware of the likelihood that your men will show up and shoot first, ask later.

“Are you feckin’ stupid, lass?” He retorts, although his tone is dutifully lower as he scrambles to grab your legs once more, his fist finding your belt and pulling you towards him.

Your attempts to dig your heels into the ground to prevent yourself from being pinned by him are fruitless, his strength undoubtedly superior to yours. That was a fact all too common when it came to your hand-to-hand fights, but luckily, it was just one factor of many.

“Are you?” Your shock is palpable as he gets his other hand around the other side of your belt, using the grip to pull himself over you.

His torso is pressed against your own as he goes to pin your hands, but with one quick manoeuvre, you wrap your legs around his waist and turn.

Utilising your lower body strength, you’re able to reverse the position, your hips pinning his to the ground. In one sweep of your hands, you collect both of his wrists and force them into the carpet. The room fills with your harsh, panted breaths, the outside commotion only a distant soundtrack.

“Yer supposed to kill me now, Shadow,” he says, a torment, a threat.

You swallow, once, an unsure thing.

He’s right, of course. He should be dead by now, bleeding out onto the floor. You should be comming to your fucking Commander, and telling him that one of the men he’s after has just been reported KIA. That’s what should be happening.

So how come it’s not?

“I know,” you say, the words falling through your lips despite the internal conflict in your head. “You should be dead.”

He mirrors your confusion with raised brows, and it’s then that you can feel the blood trickling onto your hand. He’s bleeding down his arm, you realise with a start. He’s wounded.

Flitting your gaze to the floor up ahead, you catch sight of your gun, only a few steps away. One shot is all you’d need. One second, and that mouth of his would never open again.

The sole window in the room flashes with a burst of lightning, and that short second of light lets you catch sight of his features. Blood coats his jaw – from your kicks, maybe – and he’s got dirt caked onto his cheek. His stubble has clearly missed a few shaves, and his mohawk isn’t gelled.

“Still waiting, Shadow,” he says. And although he’s quiet, the words feel like a yell in the tense room. Like a shout directly into your soul, screaming for you to sort your shit out.

You go to respond – with what, you’re not sure – when the man underneath you manages to rip his hands from your grip and swing them around the back of your neck. He pulls you forward, your neck fitting into the crook of his elbow as he squeezes.

When you try to inhale, you end up choking on a cough. He’s strangling you, you realise, with his fucking biceps.

There’s mere moments for you to make a decision before you pass out, or he breaks your neck. Moments for you to decide what the fuck you can do.

Balling your right hand into a tight fist, you punch into his nose, a sickening crack making your teeth slide together. He swears, rapid-fire, a few Gaelic-sounding words slipping out along with them. It’s enough of a distraction to let you wrench out of his hold with a cough, wincing when you claw at his arm and draw blood. Thank fuck for fingerless gloves.

Crawling forward as he brings a hand up to his now-bleeding nose, you’re just a breath away from reaching your gun when his hand grabs into your hair and pulls, eliciting a cry from you.

It’s a dirty move, but this is a dirty fight.

“Fucking – let go!” You grit out, the pain of the tightening on your scalp unique and not at all tolerable.

He just pulls tighter in response, and as you try and reach the gun, your fingers fall just millimetres short. It’s maddening, your emotions out of whack and your mental compass skewed beyond belief.

He should be fucking dead. He should be fucking dead.

So why wasn’t he?

You realise that he’s using his grip on you for leverage, to move himself closer to the weapon. Reaching towards his bare arm, you manage to catch your hand around it, nails digging into his wet skin.

He lets out a pained groan, and it becomes quickly apparent to you that he’s been shot in that arm. Moving your fingers, your index finger pushes into the open wound.

His grip on your hair goes lax, and he stops moving towards the gun long enough to allow you to move on top of him once more, pinning him underneath your weight. You’re both evidently weaker than the last time you were in this position, and you’re about to do something, something, something –

“Johnny? How copy?” An urgent, oddly panicked voice echoes around the room. It’s crackled, in only the way a radio’s can, and the two of you stun yourselves into freezing. His communications have been dislocated, and now they’re loud and clear for both of you to hear. “Johnny, what the fuck is happening?”

“Shit,” Johnny curses, head falling back against the ground in exasperation.

You’re not sure when you’d laxed your grip from his wound, your hand loose around his arm. You’re not sure when you’d subconsciously started avoiding fatal moves.

At this point, you’re not sure about anything at all.

Although it’s hard to see, you’re sure that the two of you make eye contact.

Neither of you make a move.

“Soap!”

Slowly, Johnny moves his hand to the communicator in his vest, pressing the button to allow for his voice to carry over to the man on the other end.

“A little occupied, Sir,” he murmurs, tightly.

If you move your hand to his throat, or use this as a distraction, you could have him dead before the other man could even register his words.

“I can’t get a visual on you,” the other man quips back, voice laced with thinly-veiled worry. “Johnny, if you die, I’m fuckin’ killing your ass.”

You bite back a slightly crazed chuckle at that statement, and by the shift in Johnny’s chest, he does too.

Johnny doesn’t turn off his communicator. The other man – Ghost, if you’re correct – will be able to hear everything you say.

Ghost and Soap.

Jesus H. Christ. Soap – Johnny MacTavish – the 141 operator you heard whispers about throughout your unit – he was underneath you. He was on the run from your commander. He was the man you were assigned to fucking kill.

He’s alive.

You’re alive.

“Shadow Three-Zero, what’s your status?”

Oh, fuck. Fucking hell.

Both you and Johnny’s eyes dart to your own communicator – the earpiece scattered along the floor just as his had been.

Graves’ voice. It sends a shiver down your spine for all the wrong reasons, and the lump in your throat doubles in size. If it’s at all possible, the rain outside grows louder, and more gunshots echo in your ears.

“Shadow Three-Zero. Have you got ‘em? Don’t go two-timing me now, babe.”

How he’s – how he’s being so light, so carefree while storming these streets and murdering fathers, brothers, sons in cold blood – it cements a thought in your head. Out of the storm of them, the endless noise of them all, one becomes concrete. Factual. A single truth in your world of lies.

You press down your communicator button.

“Haven’t found them yet, sir. Wouldn’t dream of going against you.”

“Atta girl,” he responds, a light chuckle carrying over the radio. “After this is all done, we can have a celebration of our own, hey?”

Your mouth is barren of moisture, your tongue a heavy weight that feels all too useless as you reply once more. It doesn’t go unnoticed how neither Soap, or Ghost over the comms, say a word.

“It’ll be my pleasure, sir.”

You rip off your communicator, throwing it across the room. It sets the course of the rest of your life, you’re sure. You still do it.

All the while, you hold Soap’s gaze.

He hasn’t killed you. He could’ve, you realise, he really could’ve. He had the opportunity. Still does.

But.

You’re alive.

And so is he.

“What’re you doin’, Shadow?” Johnny finally asks, equally suspicious and curious. His tone is tight, almost as much as his body is against your own.

You’d almost forgotten that he’s underneath you. Weaponless, and bleeding out. Wounded.

On the run.

Your eyes are wide, manic, maybe, as you say with shaky breaths;

“This isn’t right. I – I don’t fight for this. You guys, you,” squeezing your eyes shut, if only for a brief moment, you continue, slower, “This isn’t the Graves I know. I’m not going to be on the wrong side of history. I’d rather betray him than stand by his side with blood on my hands.”

Soap must sense your conviction, your wobbly words holding such truth and capability in them, because he nods, sharply.

“Johnny,” the radio chimes in again, the man’s tone a warning. “Don’t.”

Soap works his mouth, a crease forming between his blood-stained brows. If you were at all a poet, you’d akin his blue eyes to a storm-brewed sea. But you’re a soldier, so they’re merely obvious in the window’s scarce light, a stark contrast to the reds and darkness all around you both.

You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. You’d clearly hit your head too hard when Soap had crashed into you, or you’d been drugged earlier.

“I have intel,” you blurt out, like a crazed lunatic. That description is, unfortunately, a little too fitting to your current state. “I’m – I’m a fucking good fighter. You help me, I help you.”

“We don’t need your help,” Soap quickly, almost automatically, retorts. But his words seem weak, his certainty nowhere on your own.

“You’re shot and on the run with no weapons,” you reply, slowly. Words. You were good at words, at debates. You could survive this. Maybe. “I know Graves. I know my men. And I know that I’d rather be a traitor than a war criminal.”

That’s maybe the most true thing you’d thought, or said, since you’d first been asked to head to Las Almas with an order to kill.

There’s silence.

A few beats pass before you open your mouth once more, tone just this side of pleading, “I’ll help you guys survive this. If you help me take down Graves, and support me – if you give me the assets I need. That’s all I’m asking.”

“We don’t trust you,” Soap says, and you nod.

“I don’t exactly have faith in you either. But it’s this or we all end up dead.”

Ghost inputs something, this time. “If you two make it to the church, we’ll consider it.”

That’s the most you can ask for. The best possible outcome from you being the biggest fucking idiot to walk this earth. You were lucky that Soap was… merciful. Which was, all things considered, the weirdest component of this entire, messed up equation.

It seems like agreement passes through you all, like a sort of handshake. An invisible one, but a symbol of truce nonetheless.

“Get yer ass offa me,” Soap groans, breaking the tension of the room.

Scrambling off of him, but keeping your wits about you, you realise that you’d virtually been laying on the man your entire conversation. Your ears burn in embarrassment.

“...Right. I’m taking my gun,” you murmur.

Which is, obviously, the worst thing to say.

“Are you feckin’ serious? Dinnae wanna work with an idiot, Jesus,” Soap immediately hisses out, getting up with a hand on his knee, bringing his other to press against his bullet wound with a wince. You think that Ghost says something similar, but it’s drowned out by Soap.

“I’m best with close-range, and I’m not the one wounded,” you immediately bite back, hand wrapping around said weapon and holding it to your chest, checking over the room for any more supplies. Luckily, unlike the man in front of you, you still have all of your supplies and gear. His top is thin, you think, and soaked through with both rain and blood. Your standard Shadow Company uniform still fits you like a second skin, and although wet, doesn’t soak into your bottom layers. Your tactical knife, still strapped to your thigh, is secure and perfectly in place.

How you’d not used it in that fight was a testament to your mindscape more than anything.

“How do I know ye won’t just shoot me when my back’s turned?” Soap shoots back, his tone a weapon in its own right.

You raise a brow, and you hope that he can see it. “I would’ve done that already if that was my plan. And you’re calling me an idiot.”

“You’re a right ass,” he retorts, not unlike a petulant child.

“And you’re a right dickhead.” And, alright, you realise that you’re not much better, but it’s deserved.

“And you both need to hurry the fuck up.”

You and Soap both have the decency to wince at the man’s words, and you both shut up as you finish checking over yourselves. You, focusing on checking your straps and belt, and Soap, hissing about his wound.

…If this camaraderie lasted the night, you’d think about apologising for that move.

Checking over your gun, you move to slowly open the door as Soap fixes up his radio, putting his earpiece back in its place. You are, admittedly, a bit annoyed that you won’t be able to hear Ghost’s callouts, but again, you had a gun.

“Let’s go,” you softly say, tilting your head towards the door. Soap nods, clearly ready to meet back up with his Lieutenant and get out of here.

As you slowly open the door, guns raised and eyes alert, you let the reality of your situation settle over you like the world’s coldest blanket. You’re going against everything you’ve ever known, all because of your morals that had always been slightly off-centre. Came with the job, you supposed.

But this was uncharted territory. Directly betraying your unit, your men, your Commander, and helping the men you’re assigned to kill? Asking them for their help in return?

“Clear,” you softly report to Soap, who acknowledges your order with a low noise. Following you with silent steps down the stairs, you keep your gun raised as you check over the bottom floor, before signalling for him to exit through the front door with you.

As the two of you enter the laneway once more, your breath catches in your throat as you assess the damage.

You spot several bodies littering the streets as rain hits you once more, the presence of it oddly comforting throughout it all. A truck up ahead has its lights on, the red of the brakes shining against the wet pavement like the pools of blood not three metres away from it.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap murmurs from behind you, and you can’t help but agree with his sentiment.

This was pure bloodshed, at the hands of the one man you thought you could trust.

Betrayal tastes oddly sour in your mouth. Betrayal like this, on all sides, it’s like being suffocated by two cloths at once. Two very bloody, very assaulting cloths, at that.

Soap seems to be communicating with Ghost as the two of you make your way down the street, considering the back-and-forth whispers from Soap. He seems almost. Flirty. Which is a stark realisation, and truly, the least of your worries right now.

“If you can find bandages, or something close to it, I’ll get that arm of yours fixed up.”

You keep your tone low, careful of your surroundings as you see Soap nod, albeit almost in shock, in your periphery. Keeping your gaze forward, you move along the sidewalk.

The beauty of these shops, and this community, has been tarnished by the massacre of your Shadows. Your heart aches, seeing it all – the smashed windows, the blood, the distant sound of screaming and crying.

You and Soap make it about a block in silence, before flashlights ahead have you grabbing onto Soap’s shirt and pulling him into the open door of the shop to your left, heart beating rapidly in your chest.

“Shadow Three-Zero’s gone silent,” you hear a familiar voice say. Your subordinate – one of the two you’d sent to check the houses up ahead. “Reckon she’s dead?”

Soap, for his part, is silent where he’s been pushed up against the wall, your head meeting his collarbone.

“Nah. She mighta slept her way to the top, but she’s good. Probably gone dark so she can suck Graves off on the side or something.”

Your breath comes out in a sharp exhale, your fists tightening unknowingly onto the fabric of Soap’s shirt. He doesn’t even breathe in response.

The other chuckles. “Fuckin’ slut. Can’t believe she gets to order us around when we all know why she’s here.”

And, oh, does that make your stomach turn. You were many things, but you were not one to abuse a position like that. They knew nothing of your struggles, or your relationships, or –

“Fuckin’ cocksuckers,” Soap grumbles, and that shocks you. For a man in the military to recognise misogyny like that was, really, unheard of.

You ignore that thought.

“Shut up.”

He does.

The two Shadows continue walking down the street, and you quickly peer out of the front window to watch them head down another sidealley, taking their thoughts with them.

“Come on,” is all you say, and Johnny follows tightly behind you as you continue down the way you were heading.

You find an alleyway to your left, and you decide to follow it. You can see a flashlight scanning over the street further down. Shadows were everywhere, but they were pushing forward like a tsunami over a coastal town, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.

Soap follows you without question, which is odd, but you’re not about to complain.

“Ghost says that there’s underground tunnels – we can get to the church through ‘em,” Soap murmurs as he taps your shoulder. You nod, not looking back as you search for any telling of where the best route would be.

After a few minutes, the two of you find yourselves nearing the tunnels Ghost had spoken about.

It’s when you’re about to head into the deep end – quite literally, considering the flooding – that an all too familiar and bone-chilling voice yells out from the right of you both, down another street.

“She’s gone dark – you will find her alive, and if she’s dead, you will be too!” Graves roars, and your heart skips a beat. “She could be hurt, or captured – she is your top priority now, Shadows!”

There’s a chorus of agreement, and if you look down, you’re almost certain that you’ll find your stomach laying at your feet.

A greedy, greedy man. That was what Phillip Graves was – now, more than ever.

If you were a weaker woman, a civilian, maybe, instead of a seasoned soldier, you’d have vomited by now.

Instead, you shoot Soap a look.

“Ghost still at the church?” Is all you ask.

Soap nods. “Yeah. Lt’s talkin’ my ear off,” he says with an eye roll, but his lips quirk into a half-tilted grin more resemblant of a satisfied pup.

“Didn’t think the 141 was so close,” you reply, and you could slap yourself for how nosy you sound. You’re not, not in the slightest – all you cared about was surviving both Graves and them.

Soap’s eyes hold an indecipherable gleam to them when he responds, a touch domestically, “You have no idea.”

You itch to delve deeper, to unpack that statement that seems to hold so many layers, but you keep your mouth respectfully shut.

And you prepare to meet Ghost at the end of the tunnel.

a/n. cutely drops this and hides!! jk but umm idk man this fic idea has been nibbling at my brain and GAWDDD smth about it just. got the juices flowing. this is my personality now thanks gn. if you guys enjoyed please comment or reblog or follow!! ty so very muchly ily all <3

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starkwlkr · 1 year

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heyyy! i love your fanfics so so much and had an idea for one, charles x reader where the girl has to go to watch the rolex monte carlo masters on finals day because his sister dates one of the tennis players who would play there, her place ends up being next to charles and he notices the confusion of the girl next to him every pass, she knows nothing about tennis so charles gently explains what happens in the game and she recognizes him for being a fan of formula one... pierre appears and charles gets up to change places without first inviting her to accompany him

go sports | charles leclerc

again so sorry for the wait!! i’m slowly catching up on all the requests :) I’m assuming that y/n’s sister is dating on of the tennis players so I wrote that in

Y/n sat in her seat, unsure why she was even separated from her sister, but she just accepted it. Y/n watched as more seats were being filled by people. A few minutes before the match started, Y/n took her phone out and started texting her sister. She continued to do that until a guy sat beside her.

“Bonjour mademoiselle.” He greeted.

Y/n just smiled at him. “Hi.” She regretted not taking French in school.

She didn’t mean to stare at him, but he had such a familiar face. A second later, she realized that none other than Charles Leclerc was sitting right next to her. Soon, the match started and Y/n tried her best to keep up with it. She never quite understood the basics of tennis, but she watched the ball bounce from one opponent to the other.

From the corner of his eye, Charles watched as she made a confused face. Her eyes followed the ball, she sometimes gasped when one of the players almost hit the ground from running.

“Who’s your pick?” Charles leaned towards her.

“Is it dumb if I say whoever wins?” Y/n said to him.

“I don’t think it’s dumb. That’s what I said when I saw my first tennis match.” Charles replied. “Did you know that in tennis, ‘love’ means zero.” He said, almost whispering it in her ear.

As the match went on, Charles kept telling her what was going on. She nodded, keeping track of every rule Charles was telling her. Halfway through the match, Y/n sort knew what was happening.

From a distance, Pierre Gasly watched his friend talk with the woman beside him. “This guy.” He chuckled as Charles pointed to the tennis court. He then realized Charles was explaining the game to her.

Is this his way of flirting? Pierre thought. He then watched Charles pull his phone out and hand it to her. Pierre’s girlfriend, Kika, sat beside him watching as well.

“Are they exchanging phone numbers?” Kika whispered to Pierre.

“Holy shit, Charles actually knows how to talk to women.”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #cl16 x reader #ferrari #f1 one shot #charles leclerc imagine

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ghostsbaby · 2 years

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BABE. WE NEED A FANFIC OF THE READER RIDING SIMONS THIGH LIKE RN, LIKE IMAGINE HIM BOUNCING HIS LEG UP AND DOWN TO TEASE THE READER OH MY GOD?

pairing - ghost x fem!babygirl reader

word count - 742

warnings - just some thigh riding, name calling, bad plotting and daddy kink!

a/n - got you baby! hope it’s okay. it’s not a complete fic but had to whip something up. let me know if you want something different. not proof read so if things don’t make sense oops I apologize 🖤🖤🖤

You weren’t facing him. Weren’t witnessing the change in his eyes when he felt your cunts heartbeat against his thigh. Weren’t seeing the amusement in his grin when you didn’t make a sound about it.

So he only did what felt natural. Tease.

He knew how to get your attention while you just sat there in his lap solving a puzzle with your holes untouched and pussy dancing on his thigh. Ghost knew how to fuck with you.

You had just finished the border, putting the last piece in place before moving onto the next section of the 1000 piece puzzle that had a picture of a cute puppy on it with pretty pink flowers. How cute he thought, gonna ruin it.

Of course at this time you weren’t alone. The rest of 141 already joined in the same room while Ghost had plans of turning you into putty. Gaz and Soap were watching a movie while Price began to softly snore on the couch. Perfect.

Looking for matching pieces you were playing oblivious to Ghosts intentions, not even noticing his growing cock under you until you felt the first bounce and heard the light tap of his boot hit the ground.

Your eyes zeroed in on one of the pieces in your hand, coming back from your little princess world of everything perfect now that you know what Ghosts really doing. You were sitting in his lap and occasionally, but purposely fluttering your pussy all over his thigh. You knew he could feel it.

The bouncing of his leg continued and it only made you weaker, starting to lose focus on the puzzle in front of you while the only thing Ghost is paying attention to is your cunt bouncing against him. It wasn’t the first time.

It didn’t take long for your panties to soak. The fabric thin and rubbing against you, his pants having all sorts of pockets and buttons that you find one and press your sensitive bud into it. Fuck he was going to have so much fun with you.

Ghost sat lazily in the chair, watching and waiting your every move while he bounced his leg. Starting off slow before going into a continuous rhythm of trying to get you to come while the boys were in the same room, almost all of them awake. Ghost knows how fucking loud you are and is going to use it against you.

You roll your hips impatiently and deeper. Your feet hanging off the floor under you, only bracing on Ghosts thigh as the puzzle doesn’t exist to you anymore. All hope of you being silent and not giving into your boyfriends shenanigans was thrown out the door.

“Look at you baby. Fuck.”

Low growling in your ear, his pace slightly quickening to see what noises he could get away with. You squeaked, hands bracing against the table while you started to hump Ghosts thigh and he fucking loved it. Ghost didn’t need to look over to notice the shift in Soap’s body and it drove him mad.

Ghost wasn’t even fucking touching you and you were melting all over his leg, riding his thigh like it was his cock you were gonna cum all over. His cock stretched his pants tighter and tighter while you desperately dry humped the Lieutenant.

“Do you want them to see you? Fucking slut.”

His hands finally made contact with your hips as he brought you down even harder against his thigh, making you hump against him vigorously until he could feel your body start to go limp. He held you up effortlessly, pushing his knee up so your clit presses against the buttons on his pocket and rolls your hips in circular motions.

You’re panting, letting out a string of moans before Ghost starts to bring you to orgasm from words you never wanna repeat.

“Come on baby. Ride Daddy’s thigh until you’re making a mess.”

The puzzle pieces scattered on the table started to fall off the table while you whined and whimpered out moans, hitting the ground with just enough noise that Price opens his eyes while you’re shaking against Ghost and he holds you down harder, leaving bruises where he dug his fingers into your sides.

You dared yourself to look in the captain’s direction, turning your head ever so slightly until it’s brought back to the puzzle in front of you by a hand closing your throat.

#simon ghost riley #b answers #b writes #simon riley #ghost #simon riley smut #ghost smut #ghost x babygirl!reader #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #mw2 #call of duty: modern warfare 2

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angstylittleb1tch · 11 months

Text

Who am I to you? (Aether x creator!reader)

Summary: It is an imposter sagau universe where creator!reader escapes from her acolytes to the far corners of Sumeru and decides to start a flower shop but an unexpected guest comes for a visit...

Note: This is my very First Fic EVER. I do admit I'm no master at writing but I'm trying to learn and am open to criticism so please don't hesitate to correct me in my pronunciation, grammar, spelling or knowledge on any mentioned topic. Thanks!

Warnings: Yandere? (If you squint), mentions of swords, vines used as binding equipment (not bdsm you lil shits)

The sky today was just as beautiful as it was every day. Granted it never really changed due to teyvat basically just being zero's and one's but no one but you knew about that so better not to mention it.

Previous to your 'decent' into teyvat, you were just like any other gacha gamer who stumbled upon Genshin by accident and became addicted to it in a short span of time. Naturally, that had let you to explore more about this fandom which had eventually landed you to the sagau corner of Genshin fanfics which is why being teleported or rather isekai'd to teyvat wasn't a very shocking experience.

However, you weren't just going to walk into Mondstadt like the other fanfics, no. You were much calmer and more grounded not to mention clever. Never once were the acolytes alerted of your presence in teyvat as you slowly over the span of a few months made your way to Sumeru, making sure to stay hidden for days on end and to take all the longer but less active routes.

In your first week in Sumeru, you had found out that the traveler had yet to cross paths with the dendro archon and was still in Inazuma, so you had a general idea of where in the timeline you were.

Since you had no family or even proof of birth or existence in teyvat, finding a job was increasingly difficult along with keeping your identity hidden. However, as if you were blessed by some all-knowing power, higher than gods, you encountered an old yet very kind lady who allowed you to live with her at the outskirts of Sumeru so long as you helped her run her little flower shop.

Months passed in the blink of an eye, and you found yourself growing soft towards the lady you grew to see as your own grandmother. She insisted you call her that and you happily obliged. Your trust and love towards her grew so much so that eventually you decided to tell her the truth about your origins and status of creator in this world.

Though shocked at first, she never treated you any differently than before, and appeared to be more understanding of your situation. Both of you lived your life in happiness, away from the world. However due to being cut off from the world you were late to know that the traveler had successfully taken care of the Shouki no Kami and saved Sumeru from the scheming Akademiya.

Neither did you have any idea about how frivolously Aether had been turning teyvat upside down trying to look for you.

Unlike the other acolytes, Aether held a deeper connection with you, the creator. He was the first one you guided and the first to get to know your aura. There was absolutely no way he wouldn't find out about your arrival to teyvat. It was honestly better the others didn't. Imagine if everyone knew the creator was just walking amongst the common folk. That would certainly cause a panic amongst everyone.

He had to find you before the others did. He had to know. He had to see your face in person. One he had seen through the illusion of the sky way too many times before. One he had grown to love.

Yes, Aether was indeed in love with you. He had fallen not too long ago but he had fallen far. How couldn't he? You were just perfect in every way conceivable. Your eyes? Absolutely beautiful, he could have one glance and an eternity would have passed for him. Your smile? Mesmerizing. Oh, what he wouldn't give just to see a glimpse of it. He was sure he'd slay even the mightiest of gods, even Celestia, if it meant he'd be rewarded with one of your smiles.

It was entirely safe to say that when he'd gotten wind that there was a flower shop located at the ends of Sumeru said to house flowers no one had ever seen before, he was beyond intrigued. Especially since some poor soul he saw in Sumeru city had the same flower his sister always wore in her hair just laying around, claiming he bought it from your shop.

Now he just had to figure out what kind of a person would sell such a rare and practically impossible flower to get your hands on so freely. So, without thought, he soon found himself Infront of your little flower shop in the middle of nowhere with his eyes set straight at the door.

He could definitely feel your presence, it was everywhere. The plants, the flowers, the animals and even the air itself felt.... purified. It had to be your work. There was no doubt about it. Even Paimon didn't say a word for once in her life. She was too curious and perhaps a little uneasy at what kind of a deity she was to face now.

Unlike Paimon however, Aether could barely contain himself enough to stand. After a while of trying to gather courage to step in, he finally opened the door and was greeted by a view equivalent to the Fields of Elysium.

The sun rays fell through the windows lighting up the place, vast arrays of flowers were laid bare anywhere the eye could reach, wisteria flowers were hung from the ceiling as if they were growing from the skies above.

Never once before had Aether truly felt at home anywhere before more than here.

"I'll be there in just a second!" A sweet voice called out to him breaking him from his trance. It was you; you were talking to him. Addressing him. Before he could fully fathom what was to happen, you came out from the back of the store finally giving him a full view of your face.

"Hello there, how can I be of help today?" You greeted him.

Despite keeping up your calm, aloof and cheerful persona, you were panicking inside. Never once did you think you would meet him today. Him. Aether. Of course, you knew who he was. If his bright blonde hair wasn't a dead giveaway, then the floating ball of joy next to him definitely shouted out his identity to you.

You wanted to shout, to scream, to go up and crush Aether in a bone wrenching hug. You wanted to tell him how sorry you were for not being able to help him on his journey to find his sister. You wanted to hold him and take all his pain away. You wanted to tell him that you would be there for him.

That you Loved him. That you Love him.

Alas you couldn't, because there was no way in the entirety of teyvat that he would be able to let a stranger do that.

That's all you were to him of course. He didn't know you. There was no way he would. No one knew who you were, otherwise, you wouldn't be alive in this shop right now.

"Uhm hello?" You asked him, finally getting out of your own thoughts and noticing that he had been silent the whole time.

As if something snapped by your words, Aether finally came to his senses and responded,

"Ah! Yes! Oh, hi hello ahem I'm totally not staring."

You chuckled at his nervousness. "Never said you were."

If Aether's cheeks and ears weren't red earlier, they definitely were now. Your laugh was so pretty. He could never get enough of it.

"So, are you looking for any specific flowers? We have tons of variety; some I can assure you've never seen before! If you need, I can recommend you if you're buying for a specific occasion or I could just show you some general-" You smiled as you talked on and rambled about the flowers and Aether wasn't even sure if he was listening.

You looked absolutely ethereal, and Aether was so sure he was in heaven right now or somewhere close to it because archons were you beautiful. Even the Archon of Love would be jealous of your allure.

It's as if you were an enchantress, and in all honestly Aether wouldn't mind if you were, all because of the look you were giving him right now. He was already in cloud 9.

"-and so, I would definitely recommend the peonies. Hey? Are you even listening?"

"Hmm? Oh! Yes of course, Peonies, right? I'll take a bouquet."

"Alright just a moment, by the way, you never told me how you got here? I mean this place is pretty off the map, quite hard to stumble by it."

You knew exactly what you were doing, there was no way Aether just stumbled upon your shop out of nowhere. It was too out of character for him. Was there a reason he came here? Did he know?

"Oh, uhm I was uh recommended! Yes, I saw another traveler I came across in Sumeru own a rather unique flower, so I asked him where he got it, and he told me it was from your shop so here I am."

"I see, what flower was it? If you liked it so much, I could give you a few, consider it on the house."

"Are you sure? It's completely fine, I'll pay for them."

"No, it's alright, you can have them for free, don't worry about it. So which one was it?"

"Ahem, well it's the 'Inteyvat'"

"Oh. That flower.... I see you have an eye for flowers huh."

"Not really, it just... holds sentimental value. How about you, how'd you come across it?"

"Ah well you see, the seeds were given to me by my grandma, i suppose it's a family heirloom."

Both of you knew that neither of you told the entire truth however addressing it would cause a LOT of explanation, one you just weren't ready for, not before your coffee at least.

"So, what did you say your name was again?"

"Why? Are you trying to take me out on a date?"

"Would you say yes if I were?"

"Paimon will pay for the food!"

I guess everyone's a little bold today.

"I'm sorry did I hear that right? You? Paimon? The one who has less mora than Zhongli? Will pay for my date? That is only possible if we're going on a date in my dreams."

"WHY YOU-! Fine! Paimon won't be paying for your food then since you're such a big meanie to Paimon. And excuse you- Paimon isn't broke ok! Infact Paimon is richer than the traveler!"

"Paimon, how many times have I told you, those 'primogems' of yours are not actual currency."

"AGH-! Paimon's had it with you today! First you make Paimon fly the whole way here without telling why and now you're making fun of Paimon! That's it, Paimon is going to tattle to xiangling about how you actually threw away the Black-Back Perch Stew she made for you and only pretended to eat it because you were so full from Sara's cooking!"

You watched stifling your giggles as Aether's Face dropped into a terrified expression.

"NO! I'm sorry Paimon, please don't tell xiangling about that, she will murder me if she finds out. You don't want me dying.... do you?"

"Hmph"

"Please Paimon I'm begging you I don't want to die so young! I'll never make fun of you again! I'll even stop calling you emergency food so please! Anything but xiangling's wrath...."

You just couldn't hold it in anymore. If anything, Aether's pleading added to your amusement, and you burst in a fit of laughs.

Aether had almost forgotten you were here. His gaze turned to you and a smile creeped up his face which soon turned into and embarrassed look as he realized you had front row seats to his predicament.

"Hey! It's not that funny y/n! I'm serious! Stop making fun of me- Oh just great now Paimon's laughing too!" Though Aether was seeming to be embarrassed he was happy he could make you laugh like that.

That was until your smile disappeared from your face as you registered what he said.

"I never told you my name."

Both Aether and Paimon looked at each other as the atmosphere took a turn for the worse. There was no humor in your voice and your face looked cold, completely contradicting your laughs and smiles earlier.

"I- Please let me expla-"

Just as Aether took a single step in your direction vines sprung at him, securing him in his place as they wrapped around him. Paimon tried to pry them off but to no avail. He looked back up towards you but all he saw was a pure black sword pointing at his throat and a dark look in your eyes.

"Who am I to you."

Well, that went well. I think? I'm still trying to figure out how I want to end this fic but I'm not completely clueless. I will be making a nice lil happy ending though. Anyways if you have any suggestions on how you want this fic to end then I'm open to them. Gosh Writing is hard, my respect for authors just skyrocketed.

Also, just a reminder that THIS IS MY FIRST FIC so please be nice and generous in your criticism otherwise if you don't like it them you can fuck skedaddle right off, Thank you very much.

Anyways, I'm gonna go sleep now It's like 2 am rn and I have to go on a trip in like a day so yeah, until I decide to post the next part fellow beings.

Signing off.

Also, PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT IM BEGGING YOU I NEED TO KNOW IF THIS WORK IS EQIVALENT OF SHIT OR IF ITS ACTUALLY DECENT.

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