Kyushinobu - Multifandom Lover

The Dancing King👑

PEDRO PASCAL  dancing on the set of THE LAST OF US

Not adding my glorious malewife nanami should be a crime 😔

nanami kento hardly considered himself a family man. that was, until he met you. 

toddlers, little versions of you running around, tiny chubby hands and feet tugging insistently on the fabric of his pants to ask for hugs, telling them bedtime stories with them going from excited and animated to slowly nodding off in his lap . . . 

the nanami kento from ten years ago would have never believed what he was currently imagining as the ‘perfect life’. 

“sweetheart,” kento sighed, gold lashes fluttering in the morning light. it was still so early, and yet your appetite was insatiable. he was laying on his stomach, and he could feel just exactly how deep you were inside him. your warm hands had long settled underneath his belly, careful and tender in the way one would cradle the pregnant paunch of their betrothed, and he knew what you were thinking. 

a baby, nanami thought with a shudder. your baby. 

he craned his head to glance at you, panting lightly into the crisp air. your expression was contorted in pleasure, some concoction of concealed lust and . . . something more. it made his heart throb, made him want to clench. to take you in, every inch and all else you were willing, and the child you wanted to give to him. 

i want it, he found himself wanting to say, and frowned. he wasn’t so young anymore, and this would be the best time to conceive, if anything—but was this a risk he was willing to take? what would life be like, carrying your kin in his womb? new life, growing inside the cot of his belly? 

nanami doubted it would be all smiles and sunshine, but the gnawing feeling at the back of his throat never hesitated. the emptiness inside him had never felt right. he wanted it. so much. 

the snug press of your hips against his rear forced a low sound out of him, full of yearning. and when you bent down to whisper ‘i love you’ into his ear, warm and potent, nanami found his eyes blurring with the water of tears. 

“i want your child,” he breathed out, and he felt you grow still behind him. it was the wrong position, really, or maybe the right one, considering how you were pressed up inside him in a way that sent the universe floating before his eyes. his words felt like a promise. a plea. nanami wished it belonged to you instead. 

your response was hardly coherent, a snarl if anything—pressing yourself to the cleft of his back, moaning and grunting his name, grip tight and sweaty on his hips. nanami could almost taste the feeling of joy bubbling inside himself as he buried his face into the mattress and let you make love to him. 

if four of his words meant this much to you, maybe, just maybe . . . starting a family with you wouldn’t be a bad thing after all. 

LOST AND FOUND - THE SALESMAN

pairing: the salesman x top male reader

synopsis: A man starts noticing his belongings disappearing after every visit to his best friend’s house—until he stumbles upon the unsettling truth.

content warnings: 18+, bottom salesman, reader is fucking salesman's son, dubcon, blackmail, cheating, fingering, anal sex, implied stalking, dead dove do not eat.

word count: 1.6k

Dinner at your best friend’s house is always an experience.

Not because of the food—his dad’s a damn good cook, actually—but because of the company.

“Hyung, I’m telling you, this lady at work keeps calling me ‘oppa,’ and I don’t know how to tell her I hate it,” Jiho complains, waving his chopsticks for emphasis. “Like, I get it, I’m devastatingly handsome, but can we have boundaries?”

You snort, reaching for more rice. “You could just tell her to stop.”

“I did! And you know what she said? She said I ‘look like the type to enjoy it.’” Jiho groans, collapsing dramatically against the back of his chair. “I feel violated.”

Across the table, Jiho’s father hums, slow and thoughtful. “Perhaps you give off the impression of someone who enjoys attention,” he muses, sipping his soup.

Jiho gapes at him, offended. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

You chuckle, glancing at Jiho’s father. He hasn’t said much tonight, but that’s not unusual. The man is a quiet observer, the kind of person who listens more than he speaks. You’ve had dinner here plenty of times before, and the pattern is always the same—Jiho chatting away, you chiming in, and his father interjecting with the occasional dry remark.

But tonight… feels different.

Jiho’s father has been watching you. Not obviously—just little glances, the weight of his gaze lingering longer than usual. His face remains unreadable, but there’s something sharp in his eyes, something calculating.

It’s not unfriendly, exactly. Just… unsettling.

“Hyung?” Jiho nudges your arm. “You good?”

You blink, shaking off the feeling. “Yeah. Just thinking about how you probably deserve that treatment.”

Jiho makes a wounded noise. “Et tu, Brute?”

Across the table, his father chuckles. A deep, quiet sound. When you glance at him, he’s already looking away, refilling his tea like he wasn’t just assessing you like a goddamn science project.

Yeah. Something’s up with him tonight.

You just don’t know what.

And that? That should’ve been your first warning.

You should’ve gone home.

Jiho had texted that he’d be late—something about running an errand for work—but you figured it was no big deal. You’d been to his house a thousand times before, and waiting around wasn’t exactly a hardship.

But the house was too quiet without him.

It’s why you found yourself wandering, aimlessly at first, then with purpose when you noticed something odd.

A door. Slightly ajar.

You didn’t remember Jiho ever mentioning this room before. Curiosity got the better of you, and you nudged the door open fully—only to freeze in place.

Inside, the walls were lined with shelves. Not with books or storage boxes, but with you.

Your bracelets. Your books. Your toothbrush.

And—most horrifyingly—your underwear.

Stacks of them, folded neatly. Some draped over surfaces, others tucked away like a grotesque collection. And at the very center, in a glass display case like some kind of prized possession, was a used condom—your used condom.

A sickening chill crawled up your spine.

What the fuck was this?

A shadow moved behind you. Before you could react, a deep voice spoke, low and amused.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to snoop?”

You turned sharply. Jiho’s father stood in the doorway, watching you with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You opened your mouth—whether to demand an explanation or to throw up, you weren’t sure—but he stepped forward, closing the door behind him with a click.

Trapping you inside.

“You’ve been quite careless,” he murmured, trailing a finger along one of the shelves. “Leaving so many things behind. Did you ever wonder where they went?”

Your pulse thundered in your ears. “What the fuck is this?”

Jiho’s father merely chuckled. “Just a collection. I like to keep things that interest me.”

Your stomach churned. This wasn’t just interest—this was obsession.

You tried to move past him, but he stepped in your way, his smirk widening. “Ah, ah. I wouldn’t be so hasty.”

You clenched your jaw. “Move.”

“And if I don’t?” His voice was light, conversational, but there was a razor-sharp edge beneath it. “You could run to Jiho. Tell him. But then I’d have to tell everyone something too, wouldn’t I?”

Your breath caught.

“I wonder,” he mused, tilting his head. “How would your workplace react? Your friends? Your family?”

Your hands curled into fists. You knew what he was implying. Being outed in this country—where tradition and reputation mattered—was a death sentence for your social life, your career, everything.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So, what will it be?”

Oh.

Oh hell no.

You let out a short, incredulous laugh, because there is no way this is happening. “Dude,” you blurt. “You do realize your son and I have been—”

“I’m very aware,” he interrupts smoothly, his gaze flickering down your form. “And I must say… I can see why he’s so taken with you.”

You should leave. You should run. But your legs don’t move. Because the way he’s looking at you—intense, predatory, like he’s testing something—sends a very different kind of shiver down your spine.

The air between you shifts.

He’s close now. Too close.

“You’re an interesting one,” he murmurs, reaching out—not grabbing, just hovering, his fingers barely ghosting over your arm. “Most people would be terrified right now.”

“Oh, I am,” you say, flashing a weak grin. “But I also have really bad coping mechanisms.”

His lips quirk up. “Is that so?”

Then, before you can think better of it—before you can stop yourself—you grab him by the tie and pull him in.

His smirk barely has time to widen before your lips crash together.

The kiss is messy. Heated. Too much, too fast, but neither of you seem to care. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him, while yours tangle in the expensive fabric of his suit. He tastes like something rich and intoxicating, and damn it, you hate how much you like it.

Your hands move to his waist as his move up to your shoulders, slightly changing the dynamics of the situation. He groans against your mouth at the friction against his crotch, making you hard.

This is wrong, so wrong, but there doesn’t really seem to be another way out.

You tug at his work pants, bringing them down with a firm grasp while pushing him onto the bed in the corner of the room– more like a shrine.

His cock emerges, hard and leaking. Your thumbs trails at the head-- picking up the precum that builds up at the slit. He shudders; he hasn’t touched himself like this in so long.

Wanting to finish what he wants as soon as possible, you shimmy down your own pants, revealing your own erection. You find yourself feeling ashamed at the fact that your grew hard from kissing your fuck buddy best friend’s father.

Searching through his coat pocket, the older man finds a small packet of lube and tosses it at you. You catch it before it flies past you– glaring at him. 

“You're no fun,” he grins, as you rip the packet with your teeth and pour the cool liquid onto your fingers.

You take your lubed digits to his awaiting hole and press them at his entrance, before pushing in. You weren’t going to give this man the mercy of your patience.

His back arched as he let out a loud moan. If your fingers felt this good, how would your cock feel in him?

His thoughts were interrupted by you moving your fingers in and out of him sloppily, not caring if the sudden intrusion hurt (he was a masochist, so you supposed it didn’t matter anyway).

Feeling that he had been prepped enough, you slid your digits out of his hole, and replaced the emptiness with your cock.

The head caught on to the slick of the lube, pushing in slightly– before you slid all the way in. You groaned at how tight he was– even tighter than Jiho if that were possible. You chided yourself for thinking like that before you pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in.

The man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head– your cock hitting the right spot with every thrust. You felt so, so good inside him, and his hole involuntarily clenched around you at the thought.

You held tightly onto his waist as you practically abused his hole, profanities leaving your mouth every now and then.

“Hah– never thought you would get of to being fucked by your son’s best friend, hm?” He could only mumble incoherently at the jab, his brain just too full with being fucked dumb.

He had been waiting so long for this to finally happen, for you to take him like this. He was aware of the relationship between you and his son, and he chose to exploit it instead of doing what a normal dad should do.

But it wasn’t like he was a normal person anyway.

At that thought, he felt himself clench around you more, fucking psychopath. You groaned, feeling his warmth, thrusting into him even further as though you were an animal in heat.

Soon, you felt yourself close to a climax, so you pressed your cock into him all the way, letting yourself come undone– painting his insides a pearly white, before whispering in his ear.

“You can throw away that condom now– you have the real thing in you anyway”, he came, almost violently, when he heard you say that– his semen staining his pristine suit.

You were going to pull out of him, when a sharp knock suddenly echoed through the house.

“Dad?”

You both freeze.

Oh. Oh, hell.

The door creaks open, and there stands Jiho —his son—staring at the two of you like he’s just walked into the world’s worst nightmare.

Silence.

More silence.

Then—

“What. The. Fuck.”

You sigh, forehead dropping against the older man’s shoulder. “Welp,” you mutter. “Guess I am gonna start screaming now.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

Just having a normal conversation with @ghostymarni TBB left us with so many questions, where Clone Rebellion show?!?

Logan waking up from a nightmare with Mary Puppins impaled on his claws for once instead of Wade and instantly having to drop the “I hate this rat dog” act because they don’t actually know if Dogpool regenerates or not

(She does) (Logan still fucking cries like a baby and holds her while she slobbers all over him)

Imagine going on adventures with Logan and Deadpool and you’re the voice of reason behind them 😆 Deapool the idiot with hot headed Wolverine that reader has to keep in check all the time

It’s not easy being the only person with common sense in this rag tag trio of yours.

^^ this is literally you babysitting two grown ass men that need to be kept on leashes and separated from one another in case they fight, again.

You are overworked and underpaid to be dealing with this shit, but there was no one else who had the patience for Wade nor the compassion and empathy for Logan as you did.

So unfortunately you were stuck with them for every mission given but despite how vastly different and incompatible some of you were -*cough* Logan and Wade *cough*- you three worked well enough together that you were a force to be reckoned with.

You were forced to face situations where wade would be pissing Logan off to the point his claws were out, and you had to pat the rugged man on his shoulder, wait for him to look at you as you pointed towards his claws;

‘Them. Away. Now.’ -you.

Wolverine: *grunts*

You: don’t give me attitude, put. them. away. Now.

Wade: ohhh Logan’s in trouble!

You would then look at Wade before pointing at him like a disappointed parent: and you, stop pissing him off if you like to keep your dick where it is! Or so help god me I’ll cut it off myself!

Wade: 😶

Wolverine: *smirks and puts the claws away*

You were their voice of reason, their angel on their shoulder, their peace keeper and confidant and they respect you for keeping up with their shit. However it wouldn’t be much like Logan and Wade to make your life easy as you often had to stand between the two as a barrier of sorts to keep them from killing each other.

When in actuality they are flipping each other off behind your back and it wasn’t until Logan slapped wades hand away, causing him to say ‘ow’ did you look between the two of them as they acted like they weren’t acting like children a few moments ago.

You: I’m so sorry you’ll have to excuse them.

*Meanwhile Wade and Logan fighting, stabbing each other in the balls in the background*

You: WOULD YOU TWO STOP FUCKING FIGHTING FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!

Wade and Logan; *immediately stop and point at each other* he started it!

They were the reason you had grey hairs at an early age you swore this to anyone who’d listen. They were a pain in your ass, thorn in your side and a headache waiting to happen but the moment you were threatened, Wade and Logan put aside their differences and acted accordingly by standing protectively in front of you.

Logan: I would shut the fuck up if I were you bub.

Wade: oh look what you did, you made daddy angry.

Logan and you looking at Wade: 🤨😐

You: can you not make everything into a sex joke?

Wade, booping you on the nose; it comes with the territory peanut.

Logan: be serious for fucking once, they’ve just got threatened!

Wade: you don’t think I want our pookie to get hurt? (why do I think he’d say pookie unironically)

You: kill me now and end my misery. Please someone, anyone. Preferably pyro. (He’s hot, literally and figuratively)

Being stuck with Logan and wolverine is a curse and a blessing at the same time, which one you want to focus on more is up to you. However you three were incredibly loyal to each other, even if you do piss each other off from time to time, but you’d never betray one another for it wasn’t an option.

You were stuck with these two whether you liked it or not.

18+ DOM DEADPOOL X M!READER

Thinking about WADE WILSON trapping you in his grasp, his masked chin perched on your shoulder and his blood-tinted leather glove shoved in-between your thighs. He reeks of impending doom, the scent combining with his natural aroma.

“Oh, no, no, don’t run from it, pretty boy.” WADE clicks his tongue, shaking his head as you squirm. His arm snaking around your waist tightened its grip, clutching you firmly against his front.

He sneaks his hand beneath your pants, wrapping it around the base of your hard cock before freeing it from your boxers. But he doesn’t allow the cool air to hit your sensitive hardness, choosing to toy with you by keeping it hidden under your shirt. You grunt, reaching to hold onto his knees. “W—wade.” You croak, trying not to buck your hips up.

WADE hums curiously, indicating that he was listening. With one finger, he maps out the silhouette of your length through the soft material. He’s enjoying this, and that fact is one he isn’t afraid to admit. “Hmm? D’ya want somethin’, baby?”

Despite his question, he doesn’t quite let you answer. Suddenly, his thumb presses down against the side of your tip, staring in great awe at how pre-cum begins to dampen the fabric. Your dick twitches from the stimulation, and you can’t prevent the plea from leaving you. “Stop teasin’ me, please.”

You can nearly feel his lips stretch upwards into a cocky grin. His palm rests flat on your length, gently rubbing up and down. Every time WADE’S finger went to messily massage your frenulum, your shirt would press into your skin and increase your responsiveness, making you uncontrollably throb. “Awww, we both know you don’t mean that. Our buddy over here likes it.” He teases, shifting to properly but lazily jerk you off.

His hand clenches when it curls ‘round your shaft, balancing you on the point of experiencing a high but never enough for you to actually reach it. WADE WILSON knows you can handle a tad of edging. “Be a good boy, c’mon that’s it, just a liiiiiiil’ bit more.”

So! Bit of a long one but here we go!!

Emmet enemies to lovers!!

Emmet has a rival that he can’t stand! But as he continues to battle them and thusly spend time with them, feelings blossom and he starts to become friends, and then more with the rival!

However!! Before he can do more than recognize his feelings of love, the reader is eebied to Hisui!! Maybe even right in front of him!!

He’s left devastated! Desperate to see them again, because he loves them!!

And they return! After long, lonely months, they come back and finally Emmet has the chance to tell them his feelings!!

What do you think?

I tried! And I hope this turns out well ^^

Cw : hate is said a lot at the end, just in case.

-

-

-

Emmet always had issues properly expressing his true feelings, or putting them into words, maybe that’s why he didn’t like you.

You were Ingo’s friend and got along perfectly with the older twin. But Emmet didn’t like feeling he was being pushed aside, even if he wasn’t. So, he’d demand battles from you at every turn, you couldn’t take ten steps without the smiling twin stepping in front of you, demanding you battle him.

It was infuriating, you couldn’t visit your friend without his brother being a pain.

Worse yet you two were evenly matched.

One battle you’d win, and he’d be livid and then demand another.

The next he’d win and shove it in your face.

The only reason you didn’t say ‘screw the battle, what are your stats’ is because Ingo begged and pleaded with you, swearing his brother isn’t always like this.

You believed him, you truly did, but thought it wouldn’t be that way between you and Emmet.

Your relationship changed when Ingo got sick, he couldn’t stand without falling over, and his fever made him delirious at times. Elesa was out of the region, and Emmet didn’t have anyone else he could ask for help.

That’s when he called you from Ingo’s phone, after a quick doctor visit of course.

He knew you wouldn’t answer a random number, but he had to speak quickly before you hung up on him. He was surprised to see you already at his and Ingo’s house, arms filled with flu-friendly food and medicine. It allowed him to go to work and keep the subway running, knowing Ingo was in your care.

You’d text him throughout the day, letting him know how Ingo was doing. He’d come home to Ingo either asleep and you on the couch, or you in Ingo’s room feeding him soup. However, it left you and Emmet plenty of alone time.

You’d either make dinner or order takeout and watch tv together, finding out you two had more in common than previously thought. You’d two laugh, and share stories, to a comfortable point you’d ask him how his day at work was.

Your friendship was slow going, but after Ingo got better, he was surprised to see you two not at each other’s throats, but the want for battles never stopped, the only difference was Emmet would get excited and ask instead of demand.

Your rivalry was truly something Emmet adores and wanted more than anything. It was a nice change of pace for you two to be seen alone, laughing and joking around.

His feelings for you came as a shock to himself.

It changed him.

You noticed how he’d flip between how he used to be with you, to how he is now.

It got to the point you messaged him.

‘Hey, I know it’s late, and you just got off work, but can we talk tomorrow? At that café, we both like, preferably.’

His heart sank at that message, but he knew it was only a matter of time.

‘Sure! Time?’

‘Maybe around lunchtime?’

‘That works!’

The next day he went to that cafe like you asked, he got there early just to make sure he could practice what he was going to say.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He checked his phone, noticing you were an hour late without so much as a text.

‘I am Emmet. I'm here.’

‘Are you okay?’

Still nothing, he sat there for hours, waiting for you, constantly looking out the window, hoping he’d see you running up and apologizing for being late.

He’d look up the second the bell chimes, only to be disappointed when it’s not you.

‘Everything okay?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Where are you?’

Every message he sent you never saw, but it says it went through. He could feel his anxiety growing worse by the second, so he called you.

It goes right to voicemail.

He can’t stand it anymore.

He stayed there for nearly five hours, and you didn’t show up.

You must hate him.

He went back home, knowing Ingo would already be back from work, but yet… it was quiet.

His life was changed in only a day, as two missing persons reports went out, one for you, and one for Ingo. What Emmet wants to tell changes The longer you’re gone.

Ingo is found many months later in strange clothes, and no memory, but his brother is here and alive. All that’s left is you. Emmet focused on work and helping his brother, being more than happy he finally came home. But the emotional part of him asks, why does Ingo get to have more stories of you, than him?

News of your return is the talk of Unova, how you appeared limp on the ground in ancient clothes and scars. He figured you’d be in the hospital for a while, given how the news spoke of your injuries. He’s already waited a year for you, what’s a few more days?

Imagine his shock when he opens the door on his day off, and you’re standing right there, covered in bandages when you should be resting.

But given your history, he isn’t even sure what to do.

“You’re…you’re back.” Despite the lack of emotion in his voice, you can hear the quiver in it.

“Emmet-“

“I waited, you know, I sat there at the café and waited. Where were you?” His vision clouds with tears.

You can’t give him an answer, cause even you don’t know who would believe you.

“I still waited, hoping you’d come back like it’s all a sick joke.”

“Em, can we please go inside? I can explain everything.” You step forward, wiping the tears that fall from his cheeks.

He doesn’t move, only leaning into your touch as he sobs.

“I hate you, I hate you so much! I hate how stubborn you are! Hate how you just think you can come back as if nothing happened! Hate how you made me worry! I hate that I love you, and you left! H-how could you?”

You pull him into a hug, letting the smiling man hold you tightly as he cries into your shoulder. You can’t stop tears of your own from soaking into his shirt, you both sob your hearts out, clinging to each other as if the other would disappear again.

“I don’t hate you…I can’t.”

“I know. I missed you so much, I was so scared.”

You both stayed there for several more minutes until you two had the strength to stand. He pulls you into his home, closing the door behind you.

“Now, let’s hear those stories!”

You chuckle softly, “Oh boy, do I have a lot.”

Despite everything.

You squeeze his hand.

This might be the start of something wonderful.

𝑴𝑬𝑬𝑴𝑬𝑬’𝑺 (ᴛᴍ) — 𝘤𝘶𝘥𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰.’𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴.

—

ghost: stop following me!

[y/name]: then let go of my hand!

—

ghost: you’re really campaigning for asshole of the year, aren’t you?

[y/name]: as reigning champion, do you feel threatened?

—

soap: if you’re ever feeling sad you could always ask me for a hug

[y/name]: no thanks, i’ve found violence and manslaughter works just fine :D

soap: 😟

—

price: i’m proud of you

[y/name]: *choked up* oh..

price: ?

[y/name] ‘what is a loving father figure?’ [l/name]: *doing their best not to cry but failing spectacularly* sorry, you just.. you said you’re proud of me that’s my tear trigger

—

*on a botched mission at a cliffside warehouse, cornered between enemies and a waterfall*

ghost: fuck what do we do?!

price: it’s too high to jump! we go back!

gaz: we won’t get through all those enemies!

soap: better than jumping!

*all turn to [y/name] who’s been oddly silent*

[y/name]: *grinning, slides down their tactical goggle* cowabunga it is

price: ‘cuda.. don’t you dare—!

[y/name]: *runs to the waterfall’s edge and swan dives over* LIVIN’ LIKE LARRY!

—

[y/name]: *sleep deprived, brews coffee and drinks it straight from the pot*

price: we have mugs

[y/name]: *vein throb* i’ve not slept a wink in over 36 consecutive hours, my scars are making my head feel like i’ve got a fucking axe in my skull, the new batch of recruits are running me dry and ghost and soap are running me through the wringer, with all due respect captain.. you are working my last fucking nerve

price: *awkwardly clears his throat* enjoy your coffee

—

[y/name] ‘traumatic childhood’ [l/name]: christmas is for sentimental dorks, and santa can go suck an egg

soap: my gift to you is some fucking therapy

[y/name]: make sure to keep the receipt

soap: sorry, it’s a gift that can’t be returned

[y/name]: we should’ve kept the receipt for you

soap: 🥲🖕

—

ghost: *trauma dumping* when i was young my brother used to terrorize me with a skull mask, and my dad brought in dangerous animals and forced me to kiss them

[y/name]: my dad killed my mom and little brother in front of me, diced them up and forced me to eat the pieces

ghost, soap, gaz: 😟

price: .…are you okay?

[y/name]: not even a little bit 🥲

—

[y/name]: hey si.. what’s the second to last letter of the alphabet?

ghost: ‘y’?

[y/name]: because i wanna know

ghost: ….. kid, if i didn’t love you as much as i do i’d beat the ever living fuck out of you

—

[y/name]: lookin’ up because you let me down, lookin’ down because you fucked up, lookin’ right because you left, lookin’ left because you don’t treat me right 😞

price: i said i was sorry for forgetting you at the store!

—

[y/name]: *was reckless on a solo-op and is now getting scolded* …hmph

price: *down to his last nerve* fix your fucking face before i break it

[y/name]: oh nice, great yeah, that’s exactly what i want to hear from my captain after nearly fucking dying!

price: *glare hardens*

[y/name]: *abruptly realizes they may have made a mistake and been wrong* …i’m sorry cap, i didn’t mean for the mission to go so horribly wrong it just—

price: five

[y/name]: …huh? five? five what?

price: four

[y/name]: gotta blast! *dead sprints from his office*

—

price: that mission was a total shit show! all of you muppets were way out of line and beyond sloppy! get your shit together or so help me god you won’t live to see retirement! the only one who acted like they had any kind of damn sense was the one who is usually being pretty reckless otherwise!

[y/name]: *sips drink loudly*

—

soap and [y/name]: *absolutely baked out of their minds on pain meds*

[y/name]: you know what i been thinking about?

soap: hm?

[y/name]: if your leg gets cut off, would it hurt?

soap: ….duh!

[y/name]: how though?

soap: ‘cause your leg got cut off!

[y/name]: where are you gonna feel the pain?

soap: in your le—

[y/name]: exactly bruh, how you gonna feel pain in your leg—

both: —if your leg is gone!

[y/name]: i’ve been thinking about this all day

soap: *muttering to himself* where would you feel the pain?

[y/name]: that’s the point there ain’t none, once the leg is gone the pain goes with it… i’m telling you man.. these pain meds are making us smart as hell

ghost: *pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking his head as he can literally feel gray hairs growing on his head*

price: you two are hazards to society

—

a/n: t h a n k

I can’t imagine the subway bosses are taking the “loss” of Ansy well =[

BW Survival - lesson 1.5

Ingo & Emmet both prided themselves of remembering their repeat passengers. She was one who didn’t battle much, but used the subway often to get to where she needed to go.

Ingo liked to talk with her, fuss over her even, always happy to help with whatever obstructions dotted her route (Gym Leaders, Team Plasma, feeling alone or helpless), while Emmet made it a game to see how fast he can help her find her smile (his favorite joke so far would be to talk about how wonderful her smile was when she obviously had none, making her laugh in confusion, then again good spirits).

They would sometimes think to themselves how they might’ve become very good friends, together with Elesa & Skyla. Had she not…

For the sake of their passengers, they carried on. They left their Pokémon in their safe spots, running the subway as strictly transportation…when it isn’t being used for the resistance.

Once in a while, they would remember her - how she tried to venture alone against the King, who even the Champion failed to best. In his most private moments, Ingo would sometimes think to himself:

“If only there were some way to reverse one’s tracks, & return back to a station…a time before she met such an end…”

lesson 1.5: You can’t help everyone, but those you can, you should.