#*** i'm so glad you read and enjoy my tags YOU KNOW HOW OFTEN I FEEL LIKE I'MJUST SCREAMING INTO THE BLUE VOID?

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hi!

I just wanted to say that I absolutely love all of your COD fics! Your Price fics made me fall in love with him (I saw a recommendation for See No Evil on TikTok and just went down the rabbit hole from there (it’s also my comfort fic)) and Laughing Poets made me buy Ghosts for Keegan. Your writing is so beautiful and poetic and has inspired me to start writing again after a really bad writing’s block!

I also did want to put in a request for Ghost (because I love him so much) but given his hype, I understand if you don’t want to write for him or if it may be hard. But I was hoping that this hasn’t been done before (much) and that I could read it in your words since you are so amazing!

I was thinking of the reader being a CIA agent that was working undercover to get classified information and 141 was sent in to extract her after she was compromised. And her and Ghost don’t really get along at first, like they don’t hate each other but they could just care less about one another. But then they get separated and one of them is injured and the other fights tooth and nail to get to them, realizing how much they care. I was thinking that her callsign could be ‘Reaper’ but it can be anything else if it fits better. It can be angsty (because that’s the absolute best genre), fluffy, nsfw, whatever you want to do with it.

I know this is asking a bit much and I’m sorry for that. Feel free to change it as you see fit and do whatever you want with it, if you want to do it. I really appreciate and love your work!! Thank you!!

'Til it Hurts

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: You thought that it would be easy - moving on and blazing your own trail, but at every step, memories seem to come back and haunt you. And the biggest memory takes the shape of a man with a skull mask. Can you still deny what you had always felt when he stands at your side once more?

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: This duology will be 18+ and contain the following: intense gore, blood, violence, vulgar language, angst, fluff, suggestive content, (smut, p in v sex, virgin!reader (relevant to plot) all in part 2), abuse of power in the past, toxic working environment in the past, copious flashbacks, soft!simon because I love him like that (I guess considered ooc), banter, etc...

A/N: Part 2 will be posted tomorrow after I edit it and the link will be added to this part as well for ease of access. But, anna, that's wild that people post about my work on tiktok, lmfao. I'm so glad I helped you out of that writer's block, though! Enjoy part 1, Love (I did change it around a bit)!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You often think of the friends you had when you were six. The neighborhood you grew up in was full of other kids your age, and there was practically a horde of young boys and girls outside at any given moment. Early mornings were ripe for adventures – ears perking up from your pillows at the sound of bird songs and lawnmowers like an instinctual call to cause mischief. Days would run long and nights would end late with games of tag. 

It was inevitable, at this point in your life, to not think about where your friends would be now. Were they happy? Starting families and getting married on island resorts; white sand underfoot and a gentle lapping of ocean water? You’d lost contact a long, long, time ago – never bothered to get back in touch, though you know things might be better if you had. 

God, you’d never have friends like that again. 

Selfless. Genuine. Without competition or a need to stab each other in the back. Friendships built on a childlike innocence that was never meant to stay or grow with the brutal stretch of years. People mature. They harden, sharpen. 

They break themselves to fit a mold of what they want to be without even realizing…Or maybe that was just how you grew up. 

Your feet pound against the cobblestone streets of Bergamo, Italy, as you make your way through the packed road of the Upper Old District. Under your chin, your fingers go up to grasp the scarf around your neck and pull the thick navy fabric up farther. Fast eyes flicker over faces as a fake plastered smile splays over your lips, and your jaw holds a tension that seeps into your shoulders.

Keep the act up, you have to remind yourself, fingers heavy at your hips, don’t let the facade slip, or else it’s over before it begins.

At your sides, past the unending sea of loudly speaking humans and loyal animals alike, the broad expanse of ancient architecture calls to the history of this city; red-terracotta roofing, extravagant greenery, and pillars as tall as the buildings themselves. A picturesque land filled with mysteries lost to time, stories never told beyond the scratch of a pen and moth-eaten parchment. 

A city now filled with killers. 

“Sitrep,” you grunt into the open channel, the earpiece fizzling as it sits in the clutch of your canal. No one answers and, slipping past a family of tourists, you glare at the ground; heart going so fast you feel like it could jump-start a car. “Damnit!”

The seconds draw on and as you pick up the pace, now shoving your way through the crowd, you feel eyes on you. Slithering over your skin like oil. 

Not good. 

Shit. Karver, where did you go!? 

Karver ‘Rigs’ Massarini was an informant – someone who’d been giving you everything that you needed to know about the cell in this area; along with a grouping of eyewitnesses to a stash of ICBMs. A stash that could do some serious damage if they stayed here with the wrong people. Intel suggests that those very missiles were going to be shipped off to Mexico in only a few days, smuggled across the border into United States territory with the intent of doing some pretty awful stuff and framing the US. 

If you and Rigs weren’t quick with this, so many innocents would suffer.

You’d already gotten into contact with Mexican Special Forces yourself, warning Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra of a possible breach and to watch for any unregistered shipments on the docks or coming in from the air. 

But now Rigs was missing, and you had a funny feeling you were being trailed. 

Back alley. You take a quick right, boots slamming to the ground and heart hammering. Get away from the civvies in case someone decides to go trigger-happy. 

This cell was known for being deadly, Mr. Massarini had sent the file over to CIA headquarters before you were shipped out; Laswell had set you on it right away without even taking the time to read it entirely.

“Extremely high Kinetic; I’m giving you full Execute Authority on this, Reaper. We’re running out of time. Find those missiles.” 

Torture, kidnappings, mutilations, the list went on for this group and how far they would go to keep secrets. No one had gotten any clear insight as to what their motives were – just that they needed to be put down in exactly the ways they had been doing to others. Ruthlessly, before they grew bigger or spread their influence beyond borders, and created a group that could rival what Al-Qatala had been. 

So that was where you came in. 

God, you wished Farah and Alex were here with you – at the very least you could rely on them to help, even if you sectioned yourself off from others more than a dying cat. There was a reason you preferred being sent in alone with only your wits.  

Mostly because of situations like this.

“Rigs, sitrep. Where are you,” you try again, the close walls shrouding in your shadows. Throwing looks over your shoulders, you take down deep breaths, a growl gradually digging itself a hole in your esophagus. Desperately, you say, “I’m heading back to the safe house ASAP. Wait for me there.” 

Your right hand gravitates to your pocket, slipping through the fabric and pushing aside the ripped seam at the bottom. The sheath at your thigh pinches you with every step, but you’ve endured it for years, calluses breeding where the leather had chaffed the flesh to toughness. To an ingrained perfection. Flinching when your fingers bump against the handle, the metal adornments feel cool to the touch despite the sweat dripping down your spine; temperature and nerves leaving your palms sweaty. 

None of this was going to plan.

You caress the small Dirk blade strapped to you, and when the first footsteps enter the alleyway behind you, your hand clenched into a loose fist around it. Your eyebrows pull tight with annoyance.

Taking a slow breath as the trailing stranger begins to move faster, you take a corner, halting the second you were out of sight. You nonchalantly turn on your heel and lean into the wall, feeling your body conform to the building and the stone dig into your back. 

The material is cold, and as you raise your Dirk up, you flip the blade parallel to your forearm, wrist lax, and fingers still. A slow breath flows from your barely-parted lips. 

3 seconds. You don’t blink, only gazing out across the space and noticing the dark shadow gaining ground. 2…1…

Your body jerks forward, free hand snapping out and grasping the fabric of a shirt. Twisting your hips, you plant your feet and wrench the stranger around the corner, breath coming out in a loud snarl. Without a shout, you have the person’s back shoved to the building in an instant, blade held above an Adam’s Apple. 

A man, then.

“I’m going to give you one full minute.” Your Italian was only surface level – far better at understanding others than speaking full sentences. But you think whoever this man is comes to a conclusion well enough. “Before I cut you open and watch the life spill from your eyes.”

You don’t recognize this person, his sharp face or dark, sly, eyes, and with a quick assessment of his large stature you figure out he’s the basic definition of a man sent to complete a job. One that would have left you dead if you were anything less than a contracted CIA Agent on a job. You had been trained among the best from your time in the Marines – years on Special Ops forces; taking point. Even if they were the worst times of your life, you still learned a great deal from them, particularly, how to know when to cut your losses. 

With one look into his smug face, you know that this stranger would tell you nothing. 

Your lips formed a grimace, teeth flashing under flesh at the rod-straight form of the man under you. He was smirking with eyes seeming to be laughing at you. Arrogant. Self-assured. 

“You’ll get nothing out of me, Reaper. We are already on your trail.” Your head tilts, a numb huff escaping your throat and pushing the individual's hair back as a breeze would. There was a small pause; tiny shiftings of your feet as your blade digs ever deeper. 

A thin trail of blood falls from the placement, and your muscles writhe under the epidermis. There’s no thought behind the laugh that enters the air, that cold, dark, thing that’s more of a bark from a hellhound. It was just a realization that no matter where you went, there could never be anything unique anymore. Everyone was always the same. 

“You’ll never get it out of me-”

“Break my bones; rip my flesh, you will never make me talk-”

“If you want to see me beg, you’ll be disappointed-”

There were countless memories you could bring to the precipice of your mind and re-live; moments ingrained into your psyche like a tattoo is to skin. So you can only smile and nod, scarf swishing around your neck. The man looks confused now, if not slightly nervous. That self-assured attitude leaking to the ground. Eyes as dark as obsidian beginning to snap back and forth – looking for a saving grace in the make-up of ancient stone that wasn’t going to come. 

You wondered how many people had died in this city throughout history. The stories lost to time. Have these alleys seen war? Famine?

Have they seen murder? 

But you are a woman of your word. A minute passes in tense silence, your eyes never leaving his own and ears carefully in tune, twitching like an antenna, to the joyous shouts and laughter just a street over. Here you wait like a rat in a trap, though you like to believe yourself more of the metal Hammer than the unknowing participant in a dance of death and wits.

You tighten your grip on your Dirk, shrugging up at the man. Your face is nonchalant as an understanding smile grows. As simple as a server at a restaurant.

“I believe you.” And you run the knife’s edge across his flesh like a match to a striker before he can scream.

Stepping back, you’re suddenly thankful for the scarf over your sweat-slick neck because as the spray of blood splatters over your nose bridge and forehead, you swipe it away with one of the ends of the thick fabric. You let the body drop, watching large hands snap to the gushing wound like that alone would stop the cold grip of death. 

Your mark has been met. 

The External Carotid Artery was easy enough to cut, though you had to dig deep for it, and it seemed the man had moved mid-slice. Frowning while the man gasps and gurgles; flails as a fish would, you study your work as you flick the blade clear of blood. Your brows furrow. 

“Nicked the Thyroid Cartilage, hm.” Sighing and shaking your head, you sheathe the Dirk and twist on your feet, still intent on making your way back to the hotel safe house and trying to find a lead on Rigs. The slumping of a body reverberates a moment later, a grandiose death rattle, and still, only a street over you hear animated conversations – the bustle of traveling feet, and the sound of the breeze. 

You often think about the friends you had when you were six. But, now, instead of being the one who fought off the monsters at the ends of the beds, you had become it. The monster. The boogeyman. 

The Reaper. 

Oh, what would they think of you now? 

You swipe at the blood along your fingertips, seeing the red bleed under your nails with such a numb feeling that it scares you more than anything. Taking down a gathering of saliva that feels more like a slug in your throat, you wonder when you lost the ability to value human life. Of course, the answer was slated in those early years in Special Ops, but you don’t dwell on those times. 

In fact, it was better if you never thought of them at all. 

Taking a left, you hum a tune under your breath and listen to the birds sing as the blood dries. 

—

The meeting room wasn’t even a room, just a vacant air-craft hangar that had been fitted out with two rows of metal fold-out chairs and a projector. Shadows danced over the floor, long streaks of darkness over concrete. 

“...I’ll be giving you full Execute Authority – but this mission is completely Black. Host weapons only. No Evac team.” Laswell’s voice echoes off the ceiling, and Ghost’s eyes flow over the projected intel, memorizing the faces and locations with nothing more than a blink of his blue eyes. Fluttering eyelashes caress the hard material of his mask before settling. 

Task Force 141 was being sent off on another deployment again, deep into Belarus and near the Russian border.

“Time frame?” The Captain asks, standing a small distance away and leaning against a crate of ammunition. His arms are crossed; jaw is loosely set. 

Kate looks at him, above the heads of Gaz and Soap, and nods her head before she comments, “one week.”

Gaz huffs from ahead of the hulking form of Ghost, and the silent man shifts his attention back to the group. 

“One week, Kate? No offense, but we don’t even know if the bastard’s in Belarus.”

“‘fraid to get dirty there, Garrick? Ah, we’re good enough for it.” Soap elbows the male at his side, and the masked man releases a puff of breath one row back. The Scot twists in his seat, mohawk tendrils falling over his forehead, and smirks. “C’mon Lt. back me up here. We’ve got this in the bag already.”

“Bit confident, Johnny?” Ghost grunts out, accented voice low and muffled from under the black fabric over his lips. His hips shift over the chair, legs splayed and arms crossed as he reclines back; letting the bulk of his gear weigh heavy. “Just wait until you’ve got us sitting on a pile of dry leads and rotting corpses.”

“Eh, nothin’ we haven’t dealt with before.”

“Focus, you three.” Kate interrupts as Gaz rolls his eyes to himself, fixing his ball cap over his head with a fast flick of his wrist at the antics of the other two. “You’re going to be shipped out at 2000–”

An easily recognizable ringtone starts to play. 

Blinking in surprise, Laswell takes a glance at the table that had been long forgotten and spies her phone buzzing over the metal. Her light brown hair, kept securely tied back, swished at the nape of her neck. She wastes no time.

Briskly walking over, the rest of the men in the room watched intently, heads perked up. Ghost couldn’t stop the pique of interest at the strange behavior, though his form remains still, only making a noise under his breath in contemplation. In the hold of his crossed arms, his fingers tighten.

“Not the person I’d imagine keeps her phone on for just anyone…” Gaz makes a slow comment, and John slides up beside him, hands hooking onto the sides of his combat vest. Watching. 

“Hm,” their command affirms.  

 Kate picks up her phone and immediately answers, brows furrowed. She shifts her weight as an inhalation reverberates. The conversation on the other side was too muffled, a small droaning the only signal that someone was on the opposite.

Unconsciously, Ghost straightens in his chair as the rolled-back sleeves of his undershirt leave his black ink tattoos on display. A deep intrigue spilled in his chest but otherwise, he was still focused on the previous instructions for the next Op. This was just another cog in the wheel, perhaps a location change for their safe house, or an accelerated timeline. No matter, they would get it done regardless–

“Reaper?” Laswell speaks, and blue eyes slide to stare at the Captain, whose legs had tensed. “What’s happened–” 

The Lieutenant knows something was wrong just by the simple fact that he’d never seen their Station Chief talk on her personal phone with that look on her face before – he’d seen it mirrored on the Captain and he’d clocked it from her just as simply. The wrinkled skin at the side of her eyes, and stiff-set lips peeled back in a frown. She’d always been serious, but the air was different. 

Reaper? He runs through the database of his mind and ignores Gaz’s and Johnny’s muttered words and glances. 

“Now who do you think that is, then?” Soap grunts out. Ghost doesn’t answer.

Brows furrow. 

Sounds familiar, the man can’t help but admit. 

“Patch me through. Now.” Kate slips to the computer a few steps away and opens a fresh tab, sorting through files and months of intel as if it mattered just as much as a bug under her heel.

“Kate?” Price prompts. The woman only holds up a finger and keeps the phone in between her shoulder and cheek, hands fast across the keys. 

Soon enough, a feed pops up on the projector, and the three previously sitting all rise to their feet in an instant. 

An open wound is in the process of being stitched and displays itself over the entire available space, violent red internal flesh puckering over the edges of…Ghost narrows his eyes, unphased.

Was that a fabric needle and thread being used for sutures? Resourceful, he admits.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” The manchester man levels thought the blandness of the tone contradicts itself. “Where’s this feed from, Laswell?”

“What the fuck…?” Soap growls out, and the Scot blinks at the screen in shock as the Brit beside him lets off a sound of disgust akin to a sick cat. 

“Reaper, sitrep.” Kate doesn’t flinch, rushing off into procedure as steady hands delve back into flesh, blood falling from their fingers like water to splatter to a rundown wooden table. The world-away computer was most likely getting a rain of crimson all over the keys at this rate. 

Price grunts under his breath. 

“Shit,” a distinctly feminine voice wafts out, a harsh sigh held back, though the annoyed tone was noticed immediately, “can’t a girl stitch herself up in peace? Besides, Watcher-1 answer me this, huh?” The computer is jerked, its screen going staticky as Ghost watches with roving eyes to take in the background when the visibility returns. A bed, nightstand, and sitting by the floor of the front door, copious amounts of weapons. The man takes stock – an M13 assault rifle, X12 handgun, and Arctic .50 sniper rifle. Ammunition lines the floor in a way that leaves Ghost’s lips thinning under the mask. 

Someone’s in a hurry. But from what?

“…what goddamn hotel doesn’t have mirrors in it?” Kate’s sigh can be heard a mile away. “No, I’m being serious here, Watcher – how the hell does that happen?” 

Watching you take a step back, Ghost as well as the other three all blink in surprise when you come into view. Your top was off, only a sports bra covering your flesh, as your focus stays on the digging needle you send into yourself over and over. 

Yet again a feeling of intense familiarity strikes the Brit in the chest. Your soft face, your hair, your voice. It was infuriating.

Who are you? The inability to call forth a memory leaves the fists at his sides gradually clenching under his gloves. 

“Reaper.” Seriousness grows in the Agent’s voice, and Price lets out a slow chuckle that leaves Gaz turning to him in confusion. 

“Sir?” But the inquiry is ignored.

“Still as stubborn as ever, then, Reap?” Everyone sees your hurried stitches stop, head snapping up as they clock a veiled panic behind the iris’. 

Your eyes tell all the story they need, and Ghost’s body freezes as the color evokes a physical twitching of his hand. 

“Holy hell,” he utters under his breath so silently no one even realizes he spoke; eyelids pulling back before settling like nothing had even happened.

“You know, you're the first person who’s been nice to me out here.”

“...Then I’d tell you to get better friends, Sergeant. I’m not sticking around.”

“I never said they were my friends, Ghost, and I never expected you to stay, anyways. That’s not how this works.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

“Bravo-06?” You ask, voice sometimes cutting out over the line. A laugh breaks out, and a small smirk twitches the corners of your lips, “Hey, Old Man, how’s it going over there? Been a while.”

“What have you got yourself into now?” Price asks, chuckling under his breath with a groaned continuation, “and how do you need me to get you out of it?”

The spectral man now watches with a newfound fervency, blue eyes boiling so violently that if anyone had seen, they would have thought he was about to attack. Like a split second of eye contact with a wolf before it rushes. The build of his shoulders was still loose, however, and the only indication of shock was his optics; the mask shrouded all. 

But there was a subtle movement of his hips, feet transferring over the floor to stand shoulder-length apart.

“Oh, this,” you point to your injury with a free finger, tying off a knot on the last line of sutures. “Nah, it’s nothing. A couple of assholes tried to get the jump on me a block back, one had a knife on ‘em.” Your hand tosses the needle and thread to the table, a muttered, thunk, sounding off. Looking down at your work with a raised brow, everyone watches. “Took care of it – they gave me a name, too, but with the trail of bodies I left today, I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t pan out.” 

A pause before you turn your head back up, face now completely serious as you focus on Laswell. 

“But we have a bigger problem, Watcher. Rigs is gone; I think my position’s compromised. I’m going black.” Your form leans to the side, and a wrinkled t-shirt is thrown over your head. From your mouth, a stifled groan releases. Ghost blinks in surprise.

The Captain’s lips thin, and he looks at a tight-wound Kate. 

“I have a contact in the lower levels, Reaper, meet up with her and she can have you out of the city by tonight. I’ll send over her info.”

“No can do, Watcher.” You sigh, and Ghost simply stares, following your figure as you back up, heading to the X12 and shimmying it into the back of your pants before looking over your shoulder. Kate hums under her breath. “If they’ve got Rigs,” Walking quickly back over to the computer, one of your hands grasps the top of the frame, thumb poking out from the corner. You tilt your head. “I ain't leaving without him right behind me. I’ll be in contact in a month – if I’m not, then I’m dead already.” 

Your chuckle strikes a cord through the room and Soap snorts in answer. 

“Glass-half-empty kind of person, then?” 

“I’d say,” Gaz mutters.

Continuing, you’re about to say something else – lips already partially parted and breath sucked in  – before your eyes lock onto Ghost. The atmosphere of the room flips like the page of a book. 

You stare at him with what seems to be a million emotions flying past the glossiness of your optics; lids already peeled back and whites showing in a display that showed more than told. The man could only begin to imagine what you were thinking – how long had it been since he’d seen you last? You’d obviously gotten out of your Marines Special Ops unit. 

Not quite how I remember you. It wasn’t hard to recall that small branch of the MRR – Marine Raider Regiment – and how they treated you. But that wasn’t any of his business. He’d been there to do a job, and he’d accomplished it. Quite thoroughly, if anyone would have checked the file after it was all over. 

Ghost’s life was counted in the sands of an hourglass, small, molecular, bits hitting the bottom one after the other; rarely was that time wasted on pointless squabbles and words but at that moment, he was conflicted. 

The Brit had never expected to see you again, and the sand briefly halted when you spoke. Hm. 

Yes, he remembered that voice… he’d just never heard you this confident before. 

“Ghost.” He watches the emotions on your face settle, and he was thankful for the mask covering his visage because he knows he would have left at least a small twitch of his lips slip. “Long time no see.”

“Mutt.” The Lieutenant nods in a monotone greeting but notices a slight jerk of your shoulders at the name. His eyebrows furrow, but mentions nothing as his pulse slows. 

Your neck moves as you swallow, looking to the side as a dark curiosity fills the space in Ghost’s lungs; head nanoscopically tilting to the side like a vulture. 

“Nice seeing you, Bravo-06,” You tilt your head toward the Captain before clearing your throat and addressing Laswell. “I’ll be around.” 

It wasn’t hard to tell that the title had made you freak, a kind of bad cloud suddenly springing to life above your head. 

Seems to bother her more than being in a Hot Zone, Ghost tells himself, the deep well of dark water in his gut still. That didn’t make any sense. He watches your hand slaps over the computer and the feed goes dark in an instant. 

The room is more silent than Ghost is. 

“Kate, she’ll need our help.” Price shakes his head from side to side; body moving to the front of the room. “I’m not asking.” 

The two talk it over as Ghost’s mind trails, head tilting down more towards his chest as his eyelids narrow. 

“Hm,” He grunts, arms tensing as his grip shifts. Soap turns around as Gaz goes to join the conversation between the Captain and the agent.

“What? Know ‘er or something, Lt?” The Scot asks, slapping a hand on the taller man’s arm. Ghost eyes lock on the grip before he blinks, looking back up and leveling the Sergeant with a dead stare. Johnny laughs awkwardly and moves his limb back to his side. “Just…didn’t peg you for the type to start relationships.”

The Lieutenant turns down the aisle of chairs and lets out a bland, “negative. Leave it, Sergeant.” 

Why did you react badly to the namesake you’d gone by for the entire time you’d been in Special Ops? Mutt was when everyone had called you when he had been around for that short time. 

He felt no great concern for you – no hatred or care – you were just another Agent that would probably end up dead like everyone else. Another time, maybe, he’d have gone in a heartbeat, and if the team decided to go after you, he’d follow. A mission was a mission, it wasn’t like it largely mattered. 

But there was something in the back of his mind. Intrigue? Yes, perhaps. The blue-eyed Lieutenant wasn’t one to dwell on these types of things, but a colleague was still a colleague. 

Whatever the outcome, he’d do his job with all the ruthlessness and tact he always did.

Ghost’s hand goes up to fix the position of his mask and glances at the blank projector stream, eyes boring into it as they darken. A moment later, he was leaning against the ammunition crate that Price had previously been on, arms crossed and ears twitching at the ongoing battle of wills; isolated to himself as his intimidating form towers ever upwards. Spine straight. Bones stiff. Eyes grim. 

You’d been nice to him – a person that, for the limited time he’d interacted with, had left an impression that was only just starting to come back full force. Smart and resourceful; not too bad on the eyes. 

He takes down a sigh. Stubborn…but undoubtedly loyal. 

His thumb brushes your cheek, and you look up at him as if he wasn’t the one in a mask – as if his entire being was laid bare before you. He swipes away the trail of blood with one firm press. The gentleness of your skin is known even through his glove.

“You’ll live, Sergeant.” He utters, teasing in his monotone voice, “now, where the hell are we goin’? Gun’s itchin’ to lay a few out.” 

Ghost would have smirked at the way your eyes dilated if he had the ability, but in the end, he brushes past. Because if he hadn’t, you would have seen his own do the same.

‘Reaper,’ he frowns, feeling the ammunition crate dig further into his hip, they never called you that one.

Perhaps the real battle of wills was happening inside of him – not five feet away between his Captain and his Station Chief.

—

You remember every interaction like it was yesterday, and although he might not, you can’t help the memories from flooding as you gather your gear. Stuffing guns into duffel bags and intel into crossbody sacks that weigh you down like boulders. 

Fuck, you open the back window and shimmy out into the back streets, knowing that your position is compromised and not waiting any longer to test your luck. Your side burns something awful; horrible stitches peeling back skin as you groan in pain. What the fuck was Ghost doing with Price? I didn’t know they knew each other. And the two other men in the room…eh. Not the problem right now! 

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” you pant, swinging your legs out of the window frame and sharply inhaling when a suture tears. “I’m never in the loop.” 

In all honesty, you don’t want to be – too complicated. It’s better to just stick around and be told what to do. 

Glaring down at the ground with glazed eyes, you only take a breath of hesitation and let off a curse before dropping. 

Your knees take the brunt of the force, and the ricochets of landing on cobblestones travel up your ankles and leave your legs shaking. If you weren’t running on adrenaline, you would have come up with a dirty joke to mutter to yourself. 

The discomfort can only last so long, you tell yourself, and ignore the spreading liquid on your side, only thinking of Rigs and the mission. 

And Ghost. 

Gritting your teeth, eyes vulnerable, you turn down the backroad and stay away from others, drowning in memories more deadly than blood. It had been a while since you had thought of it – the lockbox in the back of your mind keeping all under tight watch; guard dogs with metal teeth and chained necks. 

But that title; that namesake you’d scrubbed your skin raw over. Mutt and all the others said in cruel breaths. Oh…but Mutt. 

Mutt was the worst of them.

Your hands were vibrating, the tremors traveling up your wrists and arms – past elbows and bruised flesh under skin; bloodied nose and quivering lips. Why did they always yell at you? But worse, why did they always make you do the dirty work? 

The Captain, everyone just called him Alke, was standing in front of you, berating your accuracy on the last round of target practice. Fortunately, this deep into the Unit itself, you’d found a way to let it go in one ear and out the next, eyes as blank as a starless sky. 

You could see the spittle flying from the man’s lips and some even splashes across your cheeks like acid, but there was something artful to the way you didn't react. A culmination of crafted numbness that bleeds like trauma. It was a constant, everlasting, void.  

What they were making you into was not what you wanted, but what possible other option was there? Resign? No, this was nearly an unimaginable position to be in at such an age. You deserve to be here. Should you report the blatant unprofessionalism and favoritism in the ranks? And be blacklisted by these people's friends so that you never ascend the line?

Your ears twitch. 

“...You’re not sleeping until your marks are perfect – else we’re overthinking your position in this Unit. Can’t have a Mutt in our ranks, can we?” The last sentence is punctuated with a ruffling of your hair almost like a brother would; teasing, but you know that isn’t what it symbolizes. Harsh laughs and mocking remarks from the bystanders. “Least of all one that’s gonna get us killed. Tch.” When you don’t answer, staring off in a daze at his nose in a perfect image of formation, the Captain raises an eyebrow. “Affirmative,” he smirks, “Mutt?”

“Sir!” Your mouth shouts, though the action is more instinctual as your back straightens.  He frowns at that, perhaps wanting to torment you more, but huffs and files out, ordering the rest to follow with one last call.

“I expect you to be up for morning drills an hour early. I’ll be checking your shots myself.” 

“Sir!” 

After everyone’s gone, you blink back to reality. There’s a second of confusion, creases forming in your forehead at the sound of birds and blowing glass. Head turning side to side, your lips thin at the absence of others as if only realizing how spaced out you’d actually been. 

Flashing teeth and heated eyes flash through your mind before you blink them away. Signing away the tense nature of your chest, you clear your throat and relax your legs. Your vision slides to the corners of the concrete dugout, snapping past sectioned-off areas for privacy to search if there was someone who might have stayed back. 

Not finding anyone, your hands, clenched behind your back, loosen and fall limp to your sides like bags of rock. One weakly goes to swipe at the trail of blood from your nose, wrecking your already wrinkled sleeve with crimson; but soon an identical trail drips off your chin regardless. Licking your lips and tasting copper, you take a shaky breath and nod to yourself. 

You knew what shooting all night would bring on – lesions under the firing pad covering your shoulder; deep-rooted pain leading to nerve damage later on. Blisters that leak puss and blood onto your bedsheets. Not to mention the mental strain, the bags under your eyes burn from lack of rest. 

Gritting your teeth, you walk over the tossed rifle on the floor and pick it up with shaky fingers, the tips flinching back from the cool metal before encompassing it tightly. 

Silently, you get on your stomach and set the weapon in the crook of your already pain-laced shoulder. Your blood splatters the stock.

—

It had been two weeks with no luck in finding Rigs, and you were starting to get paranoid.

Staring at the dead body tied to the wooden chair, you growl and tear your Dirk from the woman’s chest angrily. 

There had been increased police patrols from all the corpses you were leaving, so you’d compromised and limited the chance of being caught at the same time. 

Bergamo, Italy, was an ancient place, and the underground was what you were now both metaphorically, and physically, exploiting. Sewer systems. Catacombs. You’d lost track of the paths you’d taken a million times over, and had started to hate the constant darkness only kept back by the small hand lamp you’d stolen. 

But there were ups to this constant downward slope. 

It made interrogations increasingly easier to pull off with multiple feet of stone all around you. The screams don’t meet the surface.

“Catello Tullio,” you mutter, caressing your sensitive side with your free hand and placing your blade on a turned-over piece of rock. The area reeks of blood and gore, a stack of bodies chucked carelessly in the corner beginning to reek something awful; even as you have another to add to the count. It wouldn’t be long before the rats came in droves.

Another given name, another score. But this one was new. Apparently, the title of the one that took Rigs while he was out getting more rations in the market. 

You point a finger at the slumped body, “you better hope I don’t find you in hell if you gave me the wrong damn name.” 

Grabbing your light, you stalk off down one side of the tunnel back to your camp, dodging drag lines that strike your eyes with their crimson streaks. 

The raggedy blanket and gun-sack you’d been using for a pillow take form in the dark, and somewhere in the corridor a rat squeals; feet pitter-pattering until it disappears altogether. You didn’t even want to think of the spiders living down here. Files and notes are strewn along the floor, perfect hiding places for eight-legged monsters. 

You couldn’t do anything until nightfall. It was just too risky. 

Massaging your side as you bend down, you grimace at the partially healed wound and scoop up your pistol before plopping to the ground with a grunt. With the deadly object held in your lap, you take a moment to breathe and try to push away a growing headache in the back of your skull. 

“This has to be one of the worst Ops on record, huh?” your small voice speaks back to you in bouncing waves of echoes as you begin to fiddle over the gun's small grooves and dents. “How did you manage this, Reap?”

Smiling blandly, the overwhelming quiet and nothingness all around you is like a curse. And in those pockets of a void, your mind always trails to him – or at least it had been for your time on the run. Ghost. That dark and brooding mass of horribly bleak humor and…well…you couldn’t call him mean. 

Your eyebrows furrow.

He was never mean to me. 

There were soft instances where you would question yourself as to if the Brit had possibly had some affection for you. It wasn’t a long shared history of course, but you had sworn that there was something about the way he looked at you…something that you remember so vividly…

You shake your head and stand after a small while, stretching your feet. Placing your pistol in the back of your belt, the weight brings you dull comfort.

 Shining your light on the hand-held radio on the ground in passing, you rove back to it after you scan the perimeter. Its black metal mocks you.

No one’s coming to help ‘cept you. One voice says, and another grunts out, get it together, Mutt. 

You turn on your heel to go and take a breather to disperse your dark thoughts but only make it three steps before your eyes widen, lips parting in awe. Nearly falling flat over yourself, you whirl around in an instant. 

A static enters the air as if the gods above were laughing at you - toying with your fate like it was a rock tossed to the sky. The familiar British drawl causes your chest to tighten, though the sentence is broken and barely understandable.

Someone’s here for me! A smile slashes your face – fierce hope lighting your eyes. You hadn’t wanted anyone to explicitly come for you, but this was a welcome discovery. Someone to talk to!

“--eper…Copy?” Darting like a cat, you move so fast that you stumble over rocks on the way there. “Lead…cafe…red cloth…Out.”

By the time you snatch the small black object, the garbled and firm tone has already shut itself up. Your mouth parts.

“Shit!” You yell, shaking the thing in your hand with an iron grip, hissing like a snake. You look above you at the cracked ceiling of stone and a growled accusation.“I’m too deep…Fuck. Gotta get up there if I want to be able to respond.”

But it hadn’t all been fruitless. Lead. Cafe. Red cloth. You clip the radio to your belt and make sure your shirt covers your weapon; pat your thigh and tell yourself to stop forgetting your Dirk everywhere before setting off in a jog. The light flashes over dead eyes and stiff bodies.

You snatch the blade off of the stone as you pass it, slipping it into your cut pocket and hearing the satisfying clink of it sheathing.

“Let’s just hope I don’t smell too bad…” You say aloud, chuckling, and listening as the sound echoes off the stone. If no other company, you still had the sound of your own voice. 

You couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing. But, you were getting side-tracked. 

A Cafe with red cloth, then. Not exactly the place you’d go for an intel swap, but if someone had been trying to contact you for more than a week, you’d imagine they were getting desperate at this point. 

If I had known…you frown. 

Thinking over the multiple blueprints and pictures of the city in your files, you go through your internal cabinet of knowledge for color schemes - not what you’d have thought you’d be using it for, but, oh well. A lead was a lead.

“Golositá!” You laugh, sudden glee on your face as you dodge a pile of large stones; lips peeling back as you take a fast corner. “Gluttony! Of course, that’s the place.” 

The bustling business on the upper side of Bergamo with red table cloths as well as red awnings extending into the street. Anyone would be a fool to miss it. 

Like blood lining the street. 

You force yourself to run faster.

—

You met him last, despite being a Sergeant. The Captain had you up late last night yet again – running the forest trail this time rather than shooting. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it surprised him when you were still up early with the others; from the looks that he was giving you, you just decided that, yes, he was. Or he was just pissed he didn’t have an excuse to get rid of you. 

Blinking away fatigue, you keep your stance relaxed as a gargantuan shadow comes to loom ahead of you. 

The man everyone had whispered about called himself ‘Ghost’ and, if nothing more, was certainly intimidating. Shoulders wider than a bench, arms as rounded and as strong as boulders; not to mention the tattoos that made him look like he took cross-country motorcycle rides in his spare time. Tan tactical gear and dark patches for the SAS, the red and white British flag. Gloves covered his large hands, straps carried knives on his biceps and thigh. Something akin to a tan cape that was loose around his hidden neck.

But the mask was what really caught your attention; your head tilting with an innocence that no longer lives in you.

Skeletal. Half a visage of a dead and gone intimidation of humanity. Sewn into a hood of black cloth from which only the eye sockets were open…But the eyes there were no different than if the holes had been empty in the first place; as if the person inside was as dead as sun-bleached bone. Was a corpse piloting this suit?

Ice blue. Freezing blue. Harsh. Colder than a grip of a phantom, you thought as you blinked up at him, colder than the nights you would stay awake working yourself to death. You watched this Ghost’s chest move in a steady inhalation and you stuck out a busted-knuckle hand. Foolish, maybe, but there were worse things to be afraid of than a mask. Then of those eyes that made your spine shiver. 

But you didn’t look away.

“Pleasure, Sir.” There was a moment of tense silence where your Captain, at Ghost’s side, was frowning at you silently. The man could say nothing as long as this SAS member was here to assist in your next Op overseas. At your sides, your colleagues on the tarmac shuffle on their feet like nervous penguins. 

Ghost glances at your hand, and you try not to show how fast your pulse is running when his eyes leave a cold trail as they grace your split knuckles and torn nails. He ends with a slow look at your name patch. 

“Sergeant.” He says and slips past without another word. His shoulder brushes against yours, and you inhale smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. Snickers bounce off air particles, striking your ears as an embarrassed heat rises to your cheeks, but that scent stays in your nostrils for days. 

Your Captain scurries after. 

“Erm, forgive, Mutt. She’s a helluva strange woman, that one.” You keep your sneer hidden, a hiss lodged in your throat and a twitching finger. But your anger isn’t directed at the masked beast that stalks away. That yapping bully of a Captain would hold all of it as long as you were here.

At that point, you were sure you’d seen the last of Ghost until the Op – not really getting the feeling he’s a people person so much as a ‘give orders and follow them’ type. 

But that was fine by you, it didn’t change anything. You’d been told to go back to the firing range tonight for opening your mouth and ‘making an embarrassment of the Unit’....whatever that meant. All you did was welcome the guy with the barest hint of a good attitude. 

You supposed manners were a foreign concept around here.

The world ahead of you was blurring, red circles in your eyes that gloss over with water every minute you force yourself to stay awake. The stars were out, sky dark, and the area was only lit by large lights situated around the base. In some sort of strange way, you enjoyed the sound of crickets and the cold breeze over your bare arms as if the only sense of peace you got was when you were half-passed out, nailing shots from a rifle. 

The stock was where it always is, your cheek pressed to the side; staring down the scope at the multiple holes in the paper targets. Dots surrounded by multiple other dots like a slice of cheese. You suppose that made you the hungry mouse in that case. 

‘A mouse with a fucking day before she drops.’ You frown, blink, and pull the trigger as the trees rustle. The force lands directly on your shoulder – the kickback is usually not one to bother you, but seeing as your appendage was one bad day away from being dislocated and forever damaged – you took it with a grit of your teeth. 

And you took it because you knew you could. Just as you knew that you felt a pair of eyes on the back of your neck. Freezing, you remove your finger from the trigger and loosen your grip. Turning your head to the side, a free hand goes up and shifts the ear mufflers from your head to your neck in a single movement. 

You swear your heart jumps to your throat when you see a skeleton’s icy blues numbly watching you; arms crossed while a nice-looking SA-B 50 Marksman Rifle sits against the wall at his side. How…long had he been there? Watching?

“What’re you doing, Sergeant?” Ghost asks sternly, that Manchester accent making him sound harsh. Grating like a rock being run against concrete. “I’m sure your Captain wouldn’t be thrilled at a scene like this, eh?” 

Blinking, you remind yourself to breathe before answering – voice tough and hoarse.

“I have my orders, Sir. You’re free to join me.” 

You turn back as a grunted huff falls from behind muted cloth. Ghost walks up to your laying form, standing on your left side and picking up the binoculars from the hanging hook in your station. As you look back through your scope you don’t know why, but you hold your breath; waiting for something.

“...Not a bad shot. You’re prone to firing more to the right, judging from the grouping. I’d fix that, less you miss a moving target runnin’ the opposite.” He lowers the object - staring from the side of his eye. From your position, your neck cranes to see his fingers twitch. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” For someone you’d expected to be quite harsh – though you had no doubt he still was – Ghost was more sarcastic in his mannerisms. 

Backhanded comments that wound sting if you got on the other end of them.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sir.” Shifting your grip, you move the stock farther up your shoulder, feeling an immediate release of tension, though the expansive trauma still leaves needles in your tissue.

“Hm, pay attention and you just might learn something.” You feel yourself quirk a lip for the first time in months; your mouth doesn’t stop to think.

“You mentor a lot of people in the middle of the night, then?” 

“Only the ones stupid enough to be awake.” He takes a step back, going to grab his own rifle as his footsteps don’t even make a sound.

‘Quiet for a guy with thighs that could choke me out.’ 

Your brows furrow at the heated thought, taking a slow breath and flexing your hands as the shadow disappears from over you. Why were your hands sweaty?

Were you…afraid? That…that wasn’t it.

“You’re up too, you know, Sir. Bit hypocritical.” This was the first time you’d had a full conversation with someone since you’d gotten in with this Unit. A mildly pleasant one, at least…you wouldn't really call this bonding.

“I can always leave ya’ to it, Sergeant.” Deadpanning the words, you clear your throat and fall silent at the threat. 

‘No,’ you wanted to comment, ‘no, I want the company so badly it hurts.’ 

You swallow saliva and reposition your ear mufflers back over your head, heart bruising your ribs, as you bring down a calming breath of air to still your nerves. 

The two of you don’t speak again, and you don’t ask why he takes the shooting cubby right next to yours, the nose of his rifle peeking out from the concrete wall. You certainly don’t ask why he’s up, either.

And in return, he doesn’t ask you the same.

—

When you find Golositá you’ve managed to sneak through the city unseen, taking every backroad and alley you could as the heat of the day increases to near sweltering. Panting, you stick to the thin shadows of the path across the street, eyes dancing over red cloth and flicking to faces; studying visages as one would a medical report. 

Your chest hurts, and you run a hand over your side, feeling the raised skin under your shirt before digging into the aching ribs. All this running around and little food to help keep your normal strength was troublesome, and it would only get worse if this Op from hell continued. 

I need new intel. Badly.

About to retreat, not finding anyone you recognize off the bat, a black-shrouded figure kisses the side of your vision as if a phantom. 

On the outside table, the farthest removed, a man sits stiffly with an untouched teacup in front of him. Smirking, you can’t help but scoff at the thought of Ghost using the thing – you’d think his thumb and forefinger would break the delicate porcelain in an instant. Like a spine over his thigh.

Your cheeks heat. 

He looked almost identical to what you remember – minus the gear, obviously – and your stomach twisted at the thought. Was a simple look enough to bring you to the breaking point? Why were your lungs tight?

As if feeling your stuck eyes, those icy blues shift from people-watching to lock onto yours immediately. As hollow as they always were, it seemed. He blinks and the blonde eyebrows on his sliver of visible forehead move.

Shit. Your hips trade weight. Look at you.

Loose shoulders under a rugged buttoned-down and painted balaclava make your breath go thin, not able to resist sneaking a glance at those tattoos you remember so vividly. Yes, that was still Ghost.

Jesus, is this how it felt to see someone you barely even remembered suddenly appear? Was it elation or caution that was making your heart race? 

Ghost doesn’t look surprised. His eyes don’t widen; don’t soften or light up. They blankly watch you as you shake away the shock and raise a brow in return. A sarcastic finger goes to your head, and you mock salute. 

What are you doing? You seem to ask, a mischievous expression growing as you start forward when he dismissively narrows his eyes. You look ridiculous. Are you asking to be spotted? 

The man leans into the too-small chair he sits in, one hand going to hang off the back and the other resting on the tabletop. Gloved fingers tapping morse in slow measures.

Clear. Come here. He follows you with his gaze, head stationary, as you enter the flow of traffic, smiling at people at your sides and letting off polite greetings when you could. Steadily striding, you weave through groups and individuals like water, legs steady even as your ears pick up every little sound. 

A comfortable middle point of visible excitement and strict business. Why were you so…happy?

When you approach Ghost’s table, you slip up beside him with a sly chuckle, pulling out the chair to his right. You, softy, lower yourself down into it, not turning to him but instead simply making sure no one had followed you with a quick scan. His heat only adds to the warmth of the day like a walk through damnation.

“Well, well, well,” you smile, addressing the SAS member with his shadow hanging over you once more; such a heavy thing, though you don’t mind. Your expression mellows to have it above you again. There was a safety to it, you had to admit. The cold comfort of death. “Trip to Italy, Sir? Take a little vacation?”

“Came to bail out a bird from my past,” You smell that scent again – smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. “And if I ever went on a vacation, I sure as hell wouldn’t pick this place. ‘Bout to burst into flames; traumatize a few kids and their mums.” 

Hadn’t he changed even a little bit? 

“Now that’s dark.” 

“Never said it wasn’t.”

Of course he hasn’t, you answer your own question, feet shifting and skin pliable, why would he? He isn’t like me – didn’t have to reinvent himself based on atoms and in the wake of silent nights. 

There was a piece of you that believed that Ghost had always been this way, though you knew it was false. Nobody in this profession was just born like this, they were led to it. Whoever it was under the mask or balaclava didn’t matter anymore. 

They had died a long time ago.

“Not a fan of the history, Brit?” You tease, bringing up a hand to itch at your undereye, finally taking a peak at the form that nearly swallows you. 

Your lids try not to peel back, but you didn’t realize how close you’d sat next to Ghost – any closer and you would be in the crook of his arm; the relaxed spread of his knee bumping into yours and arm over the back of your seat. Trying to act nonchalant, you ignore the strange swirling in your gut with a hum and a twitching of your leg.

Stop that.

“Don’t care a smidge, just not a fan of the damn heat.” The gruff man responds with his inked arm on the table flexing, as though he was tenser than he showed. Ghost clears his throat, “needs a good downpour, eh?” 

“Try living underground for two weeks. Literally. Sun’ll feel like a blessing.”

“Fuckin’ hell…That’s why the radio wasn’t working, then.” While this was all cute – re-learning each other like a shaken puzzle – there were dangers to being this open. The Brit would be fine, but if you got spotted, well, there would be worse things to worry about than an achy side and a pile of bodies in a tunnel.

“You got something for me, or are we here just to stand out like bullet holes in a forehead?” Feeling his head tilt to you, snaking down your form, your body leans forward, palms sweaty as they lock on the table. “Price with you? The other two I saw on the feed?”

“Negative. Op in Belarus. Sent me in alone.” Your knees brush, delicately; like a touch of down feathers. You refrain from taking in a shallow breath, knowing he’s analyzing every movement with a hidden mouth and gentle huffs of air that rises his sculpted chest. Through a grunted sigh, Ghost tells, “The Old Man insisted. Laswell thought you’d be alright by yourself, regardless,” and falls silent.

What was he doing? Why was he talking with that rasp in his tone? Your heart swells at the comment about Kate, but a confusing feeling settles in your lower body. Why did the air feel thick?

The warmth of the sun was making your skin perspire, leaving a sheen of sweat over your arms. But the thought of heat stroke fled as you became hyper-aware of the man beside you, keeping careful not to touch you, though his gaze still bore into the side of your face like prodding fingers anyways.

He can’t quite figure you out, he admits to himself. So much of you was different – and he couldn’t tell how. 

She’s lighter, he tightens his face, not the same as when I left. 

But there had been an utter satisfaction when he’d seen you in that alleyway, even if you were different in a million ways, that would never change. Ghost’s body had loosened, his clenched jaw let go, and snappy answers to servers stopped entirely. 

Because those were still the same colored eyes that he remembered. He takes a long breath. 

Through the haze under your creased skin, a red alarm starts to sound off. Not because of the confusing way you felt the chilled form of Ghost on a near internal level, but because of the hooded individual across the street.

When your eyes lock, they back up three paces and bolt down the adjacent street, vanishing into the crowd. Your expression darkens, and Ghost shifts his attention from your face to the streets. 

His eyes blankly follow where you were looking.

“Come on,” you get to your feet, hand snatching at the SAS member's sleeve, dragging him with you as a mother would a toddler. It was ironic – if he resisted, you wouldn’t be able to force him to move, not in a million years, but he slid off his chair with fluid muscles. 

He doesn’t question you when he’s brought into an offshoot of the road, vacant of tourists or locals besides a stray cat and a few scavenger birds. Flies jump off garbage cans, buzzing through the air above your heads as you level Ghost with a serious stare. 

You nearly stumble over your words when you get to look at those long blonde eyelashes that you remember heatedly, but push through as they move to half-lid his blank eyes. Your heart skips beats as you spare looks up and down the space.

What the fuck is going on with me? Focus. This is serious. 

But, Jesus, he should really stop looking at you like that.

“You said you had a lead over the radio – anything on someone called Catello Tullio by chance?” You ask, voice like stone.

“Tullio?” Ghost hums in the back of his throat, all business, hips moving under him as he goes to glance at the street. His balaclava moves as he speaks. “Someone made a mention of it. ‘Fore I put a knife in ‘em, ‘o course.” Nodding, he huffs out, “On me.” 

Turning on long legs, he starts to walk farther down the path, and you follow at his side, peering up and eager to gain more intel. “You’ve caused quite a panic around here, Sunshine. Cell’s terrified of the ‘Reaper.’ I’m nearly impressed.”

He briefly flashes an optic to you, heart betraying him as he remains locked on your lips. Rotating his jaw, he turns back forward.

“Oh, my,” smirking slowly, you roll your eyes, “whatever will I do without your approval, great Ghost.”

“Dunno – kick the bucket probably.” Shaking your head in false annoyance, the slow, mocking, stain in the man’s tone leaks into your very DNA; coating it with honey. Like a warm sunrise, you clock a small hitch in his chest and equate it to muted chuckles when you laugh. 

“Don’t go placing bets, now. I’m not so easily broken.”

“Oh, wouldn’t think of it, Sweetheart. Wouldn’t be my handiwork if it happened,” his tone goes light, “don’t wanna take credit away from you.”

“Brit.” You spit with fake venom.

“American.” He grumbles back, but you clock the small spark in his iris, cold blue bouncing silver light like snow. 

He sounded…entertained? Snide in a sarcastic way. 

Your mouth rises in a stupid, dopey, grin as you stare from the side of your vision, chest jumping in easy comedy. What a strange pair you two were, but you find you liked his company even more, this time around. 

Or maybe he had changed slightly. Or maybe it was just you.

At the end of the day, you were relieved that it was easy to talk to him. Conversations with corpses are a bit one sided, after all.

Ghost’s lips had to be at least quirked under that dark fabric to achieve mischief like what he was spitting out, you leveled with yourself. At the minimum, the man wasn’t annoyed he’d been forced out of his own primary mission because of you. 

You remember he wasn’t averse to cracking jokes – particularly dark ones – but it had…it had never felt like his before.

Strange, you admit with a raised brow and a cocked head, cheeks burning for no apparent reason. You’d gotten him to chuckle? Holy hell, you deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for that. I’d think he would be pretty pissed about being sent here. He’s never been one to fuck around. 

You both continue in easy silence until you decide to speak once more, intent on asking where you were being led. 

Ghost’s head had perked up in what you assumed to be soldier-like attention, but then his head had whipped behind the two of you. Oblivious to his shift in mood, like a dark cloud, you open your mouth.

“Well, where are we–” 

“--Get down!” Hands slap on the back of your arm and jerk you to the opposite wall as a loud echo rings out. Whizzing over your head so close that you feel the breeze of it. 

Gasping, the air is expelled from your lungs in one fell swoop; your spine grating over the rough stone as your legs scramble to keep upright. Wiping away the shock quicker than an eraser over a whiteboard, your neck snaps to the problem; brain already hardwired to get over being shot at and the adrenaline that floods your veins immediately after. 

Across the way, Ghost’s fast hand was reaching to the back of his outfit – without a doubt going to grab a concealed weapon. Eyes fiery and arms tight. And as though you were seeing it happen in slow motion, you lock onto the hostile in the middle of the alley back the way you both came. And then onto the hooded silhouette ahead of you. 

Boxed in. 

Hyperfocused, all of it happens in only three seconds, two trained professionals protecting each other without even realizing it. 

One, you realize how this will have to play out if you don’t act immediately. You don’t know how you can trust Ghost to take the other hostile while you focus on the one ahead, but you don’t question it. Two, your gun lays heavy in your hand as your legs pivot. Three, you fire double shots with a loose finger and hear mirrored gunfire from the man beside you. 

You don’t bother watching him drop.

Snapping your head backward with a rageful expression to see Ghost’s corpse hit the floor with a cracking of a skull, shouts start to ring over the city. When you lower your weapon, you turn to notice the Birt examining your own downed hostile with a satisfied stare. If you hadn’t had his back, he would have been shot in it. 

But what you didn’t know was that he was thinking the same thing about you. 

Turning to stare at each other, your widened eyes lock; fingers twitching along the cool X12’s metal as those stormy iris’ only seem to darken further when they dart to your lips. Like staring into a wild animal’s gaze and pretending you’re not in a trance because of it – stuck in that moment of infinity and nothingness with not a single muscle moving. Waiting for either a mouthful of fangs around your supple neck or for the beast to turn away with grace and practiced steps. 

You swore Ghost’s mouth parted under that damned balaclava, but whatever he was going to say was lost when the world came back in a violent storm of screams. Panicking, you gape at the entrance – seeing multiple shadows shoving through the crowd to get to you.

“On me!” Keeping your pistol in one hand, you bolt, hearing heavy footsteps pounding behind you as your mind begins to run.

Ghost trails without a single doubt in his mind as to why he’s following you, and it makes him cautious. 

Catacombs, you decide, get under the city and backtrack to the outskirts. Survey and have Ghost tell me his intel before making a move…yeah! 

“Where are we headin'?!” Ghost shouts, keeping right your heels as you turn corners. Gunshots ring over your heads as you jump up small groupings of tile steps, blood pounding in your ears. You try to remember the maps you had stored in your files underground. Left…no, two rights. Shit! I need to be higher – see the streets like a bird would! “Reaper?!”

“Do you trust me?!” You call over your shoulder, and though it seems deranged, a smile forms over your lips. “I’ll need an answer in the next few minutes, yeah? I’m on a time crunch!” 

“What are you on, Girl?” The adrenaline speaks to you, propelling your legs faster and faster. You vault over a fallen trash bin and take the shock to your ankles as it travels to your thighs. Snickering, you feel the brooding man’s presence like you always could – just beside you like a loyal hound. His focus excites you as you put your gun away in the small of your back. “Bloody hell! Not giving me a choice?”

“Not if you don’t want to get shot in the ass!” Taking one more right, you find yourself rapidly approaching a dead end, tall walls, a balcony, and a large dumpster – the flap already closed overtop. Not answering the man as he barks out a comment, you throw yourself atop it with a puff of breath and spasming lungs. 

Laughing, your hands don’t falter. Reaching up with eager fingers, you grab at the black metal front of the balcony a small distance above and suck down a hot breath. Your arms strain, sickly sweet sweat on the top of your lip, and eyes wide with glee despite the gaining footfalls rising like a battlefield cry. Jerking your body up with only your upper-body strength, you slide your abdomen over the railing with barely a second passing. Once your feet are firmly on someone's property, you twist around and slap your hands to the metal with a twinkle in your vision; face wrinkled with all the animated amusement. 

A wide grin is stuck on you.

Ghost stares up with slightly widened eyes from the ground, arms poised on the garbage bin.

Oh, hell, when she smiles like that…

“But I can’t judge, can I?” Teasing, you extend a helping grip with a smirk. “Everyone has their fetishes, hm, Ghost? Maybe yours is just having a gun pointed at you.” 

He blinks at that, but knowing the urgency in the back of your throat, he pushes himself up with a grunt. You try not to watch his muscles strain, but spy the way the veins in his forearms grow larger as his alluring hips flex. They situate themselves under him as he crunches before straightening in an instant. 

Fuck, don’t drool, you scold, lips lightly parted like seven devils were flying in the back of your mind. Jesus, imagine the weight those things can carry…shit. Wouldn’t mind losing my virginity to that. 

A leather-coated hand slaps into your awaiting one. You snap back to a screaming reality and stare down into hypnotic sheens of ice and…wait…did Ghost have fucking green flecks near his pupils?

“You sure it isn’t yours, Sunshine?” He harshly comments, and his balaclava moves with a rising of his eyebrow. 

Clearing your throat, you murmur a weak reply as your face begins to feel like a blazing fire, squeezing his limb before pulling. He chuffs. Grunting violently, you know he does most of the work in helping himself up, though the Brit still slaps your shoulder in comradery when he’s stable. Kneeling down, he forces himself into the wall behind the two of you, fingers weaving to create a cuff over his knee. 

Tossing his head up, he motions with urgency.  

“C’mon. Be quick ‘bout it.”

Catching one foot in the basin of his clutch, you force down your illicit thoughts about Ghost and jump, pushing off with your opposite leg on his shoulder and his added boost. Scaling the wall, you arch and scramble - with a growing bite in your side – to the terracotta-shingle roof.

Following after and checking your six, the beast of a man joins just in time. 

Shadows dart around the corner far on the ground, and the both of you are speeding animals over the rooftops in the meantime. Against better judgment, boots pounding the tiles, you release loud bouts of genuine laughter. 

How long had it been since you’d had such fun? Enjoyed someone else's company like this? Running across homes, you look at your side, only to find Ghost’s eyes already digging into you. Unrelenting. Unmovable. Panting, you smile brightly, giggles making your sides hurt something awful but your pace doesn't slow for an instant. 

All it took was a glance at the streets – you know where you are now. 

“Enjoying yourself, Reaper?” He asks, arms pumping and barely winded, and you wonder for a moment how he breathes under that covering of his – it had to smell horrible by the end of the day.

“For…the first time in ages, Ghost.” He chuckles at that, and it is a betrayal of his nature. How could someone so violent, so cloaked in oceans of blood, produce such a soft sound? A genuine sound that makes your stomach flip? 

His bewitched eyes rove back in front of him, and he can’t deny the simplicity of speaking to you. It wasn’t a chore, just a conversation with a person who he wouldn’t mind having on 141 at his side. 

There were few people worthy of that.

You swallow thickly and take point, leading the shadow of death to your home underground so you can re-evaluate. 

You can only wonder why you don’t feel nervous as he watches over you, skin marked with horrors but his hand had fit so well in your own. And you also wonder how you can come to care for someone you haven’t seen in ages so quickly, as if you’d both been around each other for years. 

Had you really ever forgotten him? Or just tried to push the affection, both emotional and physical, for him out? But that was the problem, you tell yourself with a clenched jaw, that physical attraction. All of that was just…tied into a million knots. Complicated. 

You’d never had sex before.

And, Ghost questioned himself as he watched your legs move, did he forget you out of necessity? Because those eyes of yours won’t leave him alone, and he so very much enjoyed looming over you.

He sighs heavily and follows in silence.

—

When you first joined them, they all created rumors. This was long before you were permitted solo Ops, long before half of your file was filled and bleeding with black ink that would shame a warlord. When everyone just thought you were signed up because you were some unhinged kid, brimming with unchecked problems and willing to throw everything away just for the chance to prove yourself. Who got into it for kicks. 

They would say you enjoyed it, killing. Reveled in it, really. That it got you off when you were covered in blood and crimson guts as they pooled at your feet. 

You suppose that was what turned you away from sex in general – those heavy comments said with no remorse that stuck with you. It was fear almost, a genuine twisting of your mind to make it your fault. It wasn’t your fault, you knew that; you could sleep with anyone you wanted and the comments weren’t a brand on your skin.

You could forget about it. You should. 

But the words were so mean. Just cruel for the sense of being cruel. And it stuck with you.

If that was all anyone would see, why try and force them to look away? You kept to yourself, never spoke unless spoken to, and shoved all of it down like a kill switch. No sex, no relationships. Nothing to make you think about the rumors. 

Getting off on death? You were horrified at the concept, horrified that people would play around like that with you – with your life!

You just ended up telling yourself you wouldn’t feel it until it hurt too bad. In a way, you were right…but you can only force emotions down for a while until they break forward like a fist to the mouth. 

Besides Mutt, they had many names for you – titles and backhanded monikers. Rabid. Demon. Devil. Monster. Sometimes, beast.

But they all had the same meaning. Inhuman. Wrong. 

It shouldn’t have bothered you that much. It…It shouldn’t have made you stay up at night still thinking about the way they would laugh and pinch your arms as you were left shaking; drowning in gore not your own because they sent you into the heart of the Hot Zone for a few jokes. Teasing you about how you probably touched yourself because of it.

But it was just an excuse to make you too scared to leave. Your reputation…

“There’s that Devil for ya’, always ready to slit some more throats for us. You think you could do the next few, Mutt? You’ll love it, I know you will. I’ll give you a good report if you do it without alerting the guards – see there… ‘Course you will. Fucking freak.”

Your eyes stare forward blankly, Dirk leaving a dotted fluid trail over the dusty ground.

Why did they do this to you? 

TAGLIST SIGN-UP || Here

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@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @serpahic, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9,

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(sorry that some of these don't work! I have no idea why!)

[panda-writes-kpop]

Hiiii hope your having a wonderful day. I enjoy reading your scenarios especially dreamcatcher and aespa. Which made me wonder if I can request aespa as your pirate GF :o

Pirate! Aespa as Your Girlfriend

a/n: Thank you for the lovely message, anon! I'm so glad you love my aespa and dreamcatcher stuff 🫶 and of course you can, dear! Hopefully, you enjoy this! Obligatory tag of @foolish-sparrow ❤️ can't write about pirates without acknowledging the Pirate AU queen! Please check out all of her stuff because it's all so amazing 🫶🫶 also I tried something new with the banners, so let me know if you like it or not!

tw: it's in order of how the girls are introduced in the Pirate AU fic universe (no, I have not forgotten about Giselle or Ningning I will be getting back to them plz have patience with me ����) instead of age order, booze and drunken activities, violence, pirating and other forms of stealing

♡ Masterlist ♡

Winter ~ The Captain

she's always busy as the Captain of the Red-Haired Pirates, either trying to corral her crew (mostly Karina and Giselle) or find the next place or ship to plunder.

but for you? she has all of the time in the world.

You're very famously known as her soft spot on the crew, and people will use it to their advantage.

Of course she knows this, but if you're going to continue to kiss her and whisper sweet nothings in her ear... she'll let the shenanigans slide, for now.

Winter likes to show you off, whether by letting you commit the finishing blow on an opponent or giving you a chance to show off your own unique set of skills

Most of the time you spend together is at night when you're out at sea.

She'll be busy looking over the a map or checking some coordinates when you wrap your arms around her waist

a rare smile appears on her face as you state out at the open ocean together.

"Where are we going, my lovely Captain?"

"As long as you're by my side, wherever the seas take us, my dear."

Karina ~ The Marksman

the loser (affectionate) marksman by day, the greasy (slightly drunk) flirt by night finds herself changing her ways as you two enter a serious relationship.

Karina feels much more comfortable being her dorky, usual self when it's just the two of you alone, but as your relationship progresses, more and more people see a different side of her

if you aren't a marksman like her, she takes you to a local shooting range and teaches you everything you need to know

"You need to aim a little higher on the target, otherwise you won't do much more than give them a good scare."

"I'd love to focus my aim, Karina, but you're making my heart pound when you're this close to me."

Karina is well-known on her crew for her drunken antics, especially with the various people she meets during her travels

It all stops with you - either you're watching her to make sure she doesn't get absolutely wasted, or you're the one participating in her antics while you're both drunk.

If it's the first option, you're able to pull her away from the bar with lots of affectionate or promises of stronger booze on the ship (you just send her straight to bed, and she's too tired to argue)

If it's the latter, you two often find yourselves cleaning the decks in order to avoid Winter's wrath due to the shitstorm that you usually cause.

But hey, at least you have someone to cuddle with as you nurse your hangover away.

Giselle ~ The Arms Specialist/Mapmaker

Pulling double duty on the ship takes a toll on the amount of free time Giselle has, but when she has a free night, you can be sure that she's living it up, especially with you at her side.

You'll literally have her heart forever if you help her with her daily tasks, she's so stressed out with everything on her plate.

Depending on your specialties, you're either marking the map or helping with coordinates, or you're cleaning up gun powder and restocking the gunroom with newly pillaged supplies.

It works in Giselle's favor because she always can find a reason to talk with you when you're working on similar tasks.

"Do you need some help, darling?"

"I think I can handle myself, Giselle, but I don't mind the company."

After the ship has docked and the sun has disappeared from the sky, Giselle is finally free from most of her responsibilities.

She's dragging you to the nearest bar, either to hustle some of the crew at cards or to grab a few drinks.

You tell her that it's unfair to play cards against people you can't even sit straight, but you find that your concerns are silenced when a bottle of your favorite liquor is sitting at your side.

And if you're just grabbing drinks with her, she's sure to tell you how much she loves you (and all of the awesome pirating stories you missed out on before you started dating).

Ningning ~ The "Rogue" Mercenary

The quiet, withdrawn "misfit" in the crew isn't drawn to having a friendly relationship to many on the crew, except for you, of course.

She hasn't fully adjusted to the pirating life, considering that she joined the crew after being held captive by them, so she often is quietly looking over your shoulder to understand how to be more useful aboard the ship

"You can come closer, it's easier to learn how to tie a knot when you can see what I'm doing."

"I can see fine from where I'm at, but thank you for the offer."

You invite her to many of the crew's nighttime activities, and it's rare for her to accept, but when she does, you see her cracking a smile and occasionally laughing at everyone's antics.

Ningning likes spending time with you one-on-one, and that's when she confesses her feelings for you.

Literally no one knows that the two of you are together, except for a drunk Karina that saw the two of you embrace one night (and no one believes her, to this day).

She doesn't like to teach you her trade, she went through a lot of shit to get her skills, but she will show you how to fight if you aren't the greatest at it.

You'll just have to put your pride to the side because she will beat your ass, every time, without fail.

Plus, she can steal a kiss or two while she has you pinned to the ground. She lectures you about not being distracted with a smirk on her face, as if it isn't her fault.

[kyleoreillylover]

Hii ! I love your works it's just so amazing!! Can I request a Dominik mysterio x reader and it's just fluff please?

Snuggles ➶ 🖤

Dominik Mysterio x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and the rest of the Judgment Day have 2 things to do: Annoy the Bloodline and conduct business with them. But Dominik wants to add a third thing on the list, snuggling with you and not letting you go.

A/N: Thank you for your kind words, I'm so glad you love my works!! I hope this is all the fluff you wanted and is up to your standards lol. Hope you all enjoy! Also if you want to be added to a tag list for any future works I write, let me know in the comments!!

Warnings: Arguing (but it's just Jimmy and Solo lol), Mentions of drinking, etc.

You laughed with the rest of Judgment Day as you walked down the dimly lit hallway, Dominik's arm draped casually over your shoulder as the four of you made your way towards the Bloodline's locker room.

"How mad you think they're gonna be when they come back?" You giggled, leaning into Dominik's touch as you stepped closer to the locker room door.

"Stupidly mad." Rhea grinned, eyes flickering to the sticker on the door reading 'Bloodline Only.' She chuckled, nudging Finn, making him bring the keycard out Paul Heyman so graciously gave you all.

"That's half the fun of it. Can't wait to see Jimmy's stupid face when he sees us." Finn cackled, unlocking the door with a soft click.

"And Solo's face too, how did you get Paul to keep his mouth shut?" Damien turned to you and Rhea as you walked in the room, giving Dominik a smile when he pushed you in front of him and let you pass him first.

"Let's just say me and Rhea are very convincing." You answered as you all took in the room. The wide TV playing highlights from earlier matches, plush amenities on the tables, a dressing room area with neatly organized suitcases and gear, and comfortable chairs scattered around.

"Damn, this is fancy." Dominik whistled, bringing you to the plush couch and settling down, pulling you into his lap. "Cozy too," he added, wrapping his arms around you.

Rhea plopped down on a chair, crossing her legs as Finn and Damien looked around. "Jesus, he really is obsessed with himself." She commented, eyes on the pictures of Roman lining the walls.

You giggled at her words, nestling your head in Dominiks shoulder, your legs around his waist. "I think he has some sort of ego kink."

Dominik and Rhea laughed with you, Dominiks hands scratching gently down on your back as Finn let out a low whistle, walking over to the table and inspecting the snacks laid out.

"Look at all this! We've got to come here more often." Finn tossed a bag of chips to Damien, making him catch it with a smile. "Anyone up for some snacks while we wait?"

"Now you're speaking my language, man." Damien chuckled, catching the bag of chips and settling down on the couch next to you and Dom.

"So, how long do you reckon until they're done?" Rhea asked, leaning back in her chair, her boots propped up on a nearby table.

Finn sat down, eating his chips and shrugging. "You know Jimmy likes to gloat, and Solo is not far behind, so probably a while." Finn replied between bites. "But Paul said he wouldn't keep us waiting long."

You picked your head up from Dominik's shoulder, trying to keep a laugh from bubbling out when he tried to bring your head back turning to Finn.

"So, we've got some time to kill, huh?" You grinned, glancing around the room. You eyed the TV, the snacks, and then Dominik. "Wanna watch some Netflix while we wait for those goons?"

Dominik chuckled, his arms still securely around you. "Sounds good to me. What do you feel like watching?"

Rhea smiled mischievously at you, grabbing the TV Remote. "Wanna watch some horror then while we wait?"

Damien smirked, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "I'm game." Finn nodded, grabbing another bag of chips. "Horror it is."

You cuddled further into Dominik's arms, and he wrapped his arms tighter around you, smiling down at you.

"If you get scared, I'll protect you," he teased, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You rolled your eyes playfully, kissing his cheek in return. "Think it'll be the other way around." You joked as the movie played on the TV.

And the waiting game began.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷

After 30 minutes, Jimmy, Solo, and Paul were all heading to the locker room after their brawl with LA Knight and John Cena. Jimmy was fuming after being attacked, slamming the door open since he is in front of everyone.

"What the hell is this!?" Jimmy walks in to the sight of the 5 of you having matching smirks on your face as he yelled at you.

"What's wrong?" Solo walks in the room after hearing the yelling, peering inside to see you sprawled onto the couch, Finn and Damien sitting side by side as Dominik playing with a llama with his head in your lap as you ran your fingers through his hair, your legs in Rhea's lap.

"That's no way to treat a guest, Jimmy." You pouted, smiling innocently at him. Rhea mirrored your smile, raising an eyebrow at him.

"She's right, Jimmy. Thought you'd have better hospitality." Rhea remarked with faux disappointment.

"Ya'll are in the wrong locker room! Get the hell out!" Jimmy snarled, pointing angrily at the door.

"We're actually right where we belong, mate." Finn smirked, taking a casual bite of a chip. "Isn't that right?" Damien smirked and nodded. "You're completely right, Finn."

Dominik looked up from his lama , grinning at an angry Jimmy. "And this is a really nice place, we're definitely gonna come here more often, aren't we guys?"

Jimmy's face turned bright red with rage, and he crosses the room and stepped in front of you guys.

"What are you even doing here?" He questioned with a scowl. "Solo, get them out!"

"Oh, Paul didn't tell you?" You glanced at Paul, who had entered the room behind Jimmy. He looked sheepish, avoiding eye contact.

"Oops, our bad. Must've slipped his mind," you said with mock innocence, earning a chuckle from Finn.

"Solo, there will be no need for that." Paul stopped Solo, placing a calming hand on his shoulder.

"They're here as guests. I may have forgotten to mention it, but they're perfectly welcome."

"Exactly. Paul invited us here to conduct some business under Roman's orders" Rhea explained, her voice turning serious as she looked at Jimmy. "So, unless you want to mess with your dear Tribal Chief, I suggest you calm down and show us some respect."

Jimmy's jaw dropped in disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You've got to be kidding me..."

Solo, still seething with anger, glared at all of you. "This is ridiculous."

"Why didn't you tell us!" Jimmy turned his anger onto Paul, who gaped at him for a moment before clearing his throat. It was very entertaining.

"I must've slipped my mind, my apologies," Paul stammered, clearly trying to save face. You snickered alongside the rest of your friends at the sight.

"Looks like the Judgment Day will be staying a bit longer, then," Finn chimed in, looking far too pleased with the situation.

"Which means the rest of you need to leave. Rhea and I only need to speak to Paul, so the rest of you can go." You spoke up, still running your fingers through Dominik's hair, his head perking up at the sound of your voice.

"Exactly. So, why don't you show the gentleman out?" Rhea suggested, giving Jimmy and Solo a pointed look.

Jimmy immediately protested, shaking his head and glaring at you all. "Ain't no way we leaving. Ya'll need to get your asses outta my room!"

Damien stood up at his tone, crossing his arms over his chest and sizing Jimmy up. "Listen to the ladies. Leave, or we'll make you two leave."

Jimmy backed up when Damien took a step forward, knowing Damien could easily snap him in half.

Dominik smirked at the confrontation, lifting his head from your lap. "Yeah, Jimmy, we wouldn't want you to get hurt in your own locker room, now would we?" He teased, his playful tone only making Jimmy more furious.

Jimmy was about to explode with anger, but Paul grabbed his arm, holding him back.

"Jimmy, this is under Tribal Cheifs orders, very specific orders. And you know Roman doesn’t want his business being messed with. and you wouldn’t want to mess with that and make the chief mad and have to face the consequences, would you? Paul warned him in a serious tone, fearful of what would happen if he messed up Roman's plans.

Jimmy finally relented, rolling his eyes but he knew he couldn't go against the Tribal Chief's orders.

"Fine, but this ain't over," Jimmy grumbled, glaring one last time at all of you before storming out of the room, Solo following him with a huff.

“You guys okay to be okay alone with Paul?” Damien asked you and Rhea once they left, Dominik perking up at the question.

“You sure you don’t need us for backup, hermosa?” Dominik discarded the llama and picked his head up from your lap and sat up in concern, tightening his grip on you.

You smiled at Dominik, patting his cheek affectionately. "We'll be fine, Dom, Paul isn't going to bite us," you reassured him, rubbing his back soothingly.

Rhea gave him a smile, fist-bumping him. "Besides, it's just business talk. We'll catch up with you guys in a bit."

Dominik reluctantly nodded, still looking a bit concerned but trusting your judgment. "Alright, but you owe me snuggles.” He kissed your nose, making you giggle.

“I promise, I'll make it up to you," you replied with a wink, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

Dominik melted into your kiss and stood up, stretching before looking at the others. "Let leave the ladies to their business then."

The rest of Judgment Day followed Dominik's lead and made their way out of the locker room, leaving you and Rhea alone with Paul.

“Now that everyone is gone…” Rhea picked up on your tone, finishing the sentence you had started. She leaned forward, a serious expression on her face. “Let’s get down to business.” Paul sat down in front of you two, gulping at the looks on you and Rhea’s faces, your glares making him nervous.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “Of course ladies, let’s discuss our deal.”

You and Rhea exchanged a knowing glance, then turned your attention back to Paul. “But first, you need to do something for us.” Rhea began, glare never leaving her face.

Paul swallowed hard, nodding. “Whatever you ladies need, just name it.”

You leaned forward, your eyes locked onto Paul's. “We need you to acknowledge us.”

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷

You and Rhea made your way out the room, smiling to each other as you spotted the boys waiting for you in the hallway.

Dominik immediately walked up to you, wrapping his arms around you, and planting a soft kiss on your lips. "How did it go in there?"

You grinned, placing a hand on his cheek. "Perfect. We got what we needed, trust me.”

Rhea dabbed up Finn and Damian. “We’ve got Paul right where we want him, and Jimmy and Solo will be at our beck and call at your tag team match on Monday.”

Dominik squeezed you a little tighter in his embrace. "That's my girl," he said with a proud smirk.

Finn grinned at Rhea’s words, giving you both a proud smile. “Nice work, ladies. Cody and Jey won’t know what hit them.”

Damien smirked confidently, looking at one half of tag team championships around his waist. “With Paul under our thumb and The Bloodline wrapped around our fingers, we're unstoppable."

You smiled, feeling the sense of accomplishment wash over you.

“Now we can party!”

Damien's eyes lit up at your words. "Hell yeah, let's celebrate!" He hollered, clapping you on the back.

Finn hollered with him, "Bet none of you can't drink more than me!"

Dominik scoffed, his arm around your waist. "You can barely drink more than me, Finn."

Damien chuckled at their words, "Says the lightweight. You guys aren't on my level."

"Newsflash, none of you idiots can't drink as much as me." Rhea butt in with a smirk, wrapping an arm around Finn's shoulder.

The three bickered while walking out of the arena, you and Dominik sharing a look as you trailed behind them.

"They are so gonna get drunk."

You chuckled, leaning into Dominik's side as you watched your friends argue about who could handle their alcohol better. "Wanna bet on who's gonna throw up first?"

"Definitely you." You gasped playfully, swatting his chest. "That is so not true!"

Dominik gave you a knowing look. ""I've seen you after a couple of drinks, mi amor. You start giggling like crazy, and then you get all lovey-dovey. And then 9 times out of 10 you get sick."

You rolled your eyes, pouting dramatically. "That is not going to happen!"

Dominik chuckled, his arm tightening around you. "I'll believe it when I see it, cariño."

You let out a mock huff, narrowing your eyes at him. "I'm gonna prove you wrong, I promise you that."

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷

You, in fact, did not prove him wrong.

You stumbled into your hotel room later that night, giggling uncontrollably, with Dominik supporting you as you leaned on him.

"See, I told you," Dominik teased, helping you sit down on the bed. "You can't handle your liquor, mi amor."

"No, I am handling it! I'm handling it reallllyy welllll." you protested, though your words were slurred. Maybe you shouldn't have challenged Rhea as to who could take the most shots. She always wins.

Dominik had an amused smile on his lips as he watched you attempt to take off your shoes, which you managed to do after a few attempts.

"Yeah, you're a definitely handling it reallyyyy welllll." he teased, kneeling down to help you with the other shoe. You pouted, looking at him with glassy eyes.

"You're mean, babe. I thought you were on my side."

He chuckled, finishing with your shoes and then standing up. "I am on your side, cariño. I'm just messing with you."

You gave him a playful scowl, then suddenly your mood shifted, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a sloppy, affectionate kiss. "I love you, Dom," you slurred.

Dominik couldn't help but laugh at your sudden shift in mood. He wrapped his arms around you and returned the kiss, his lips slow but sweet against your own in a gentle manner, not wanting to overwhelm you in your current state. "I love you too, mi amor," he whispered against your lips before planting another sweet kiss on them.

You melted into the kiss, feeling a warmth wash over you, and the dizziness from the alcohol seemed to fade away for a moment. Dominik's tenderness always had that effect on you, making you forget anything and everything but him and his touch.

He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours. "Feeling a bit better now, cariño?" Dominik asked, his voice soft and full of affection.

You nodded slowly, a content smile on your face. "Much better now," you replied, your voice still a bit slurred but your gaze clear and focused on Dominik's. "You always make me feel better, Dom."

Dominik's heart swelled with love at your words, and he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "And I always want to make you feel that way."

You smiled, your drunken state his words mean that much more to you. "You're the best, Dom," you whispered, pulling him into another sweet kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Dominik returned your kiss with the same tenderness, his heart overflowing with his love for you. But when you grabbed the back of his head to try and deepen it, he gently pulled back. "As much as I'd love to, cariño, you've had enough to drink for one night."

You pouted playfully, protesting, "But I want you, Dom." He chuckled, his eyes full of adoration.

"I want you too, mi amor, but I want you to remember it."

You sighed dramatically, falling back onto the bed with your arms outstretched." But I need you. Like really need you."

Dominik laughed at your dramatic self and crawled onto the bed next to you, propping himself up on one elbow as he looked down at you. "You'll have me, cariño, just not right now." He leaned down and planted a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. "You need some rest. We can have each other tomorrow."

You sighed contentedly after the sweet kiss, your eyes fluttering with a sense of warmth. "Fine, tomorrow," you mumbled, snuggling into Dominik's side, your hand finding his, fingers entwining and almost falling asleep on his chest.

"Baby, as much as I want to cuddle with you, you need to change first." Dominik gently reminded you, trying to stifle a chuckle at your intoxicated state.

"Don't wanna get up." You giggled, nuzzling your face into his chest. "Too comfy with you, Dom.Y ou smell so good."

Dominik couldn't help but laugh softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I know, mi amor, but we can cuddle after you change. You'll still be comfy with me, I promise."

You didn't let him go, moving even closer to him. "Carry me, babe."

Dominik chuckled, finding your request absolutely adorable. He wrapped his arms around you, lifting you up gently and cradling you in his arms as he stood. "You're lucky you're so cute," he teased, making his way to the bathroom with you in his arms.

He helped you brush your teeth and get changed, and then carried you back to bed, wrapping you up in the cozy blankets. Dominik joined you, pulling you close, and you snuggled against his chest.

"You promised me snuggles, remember?" Dominik playfully reminded you, smiling as you nodded sleepily, your eyelids heavy as you nestled even closer to Dominik's warmth. "I didn't forget, Dom. You give the best snuggles."

You sighed contentedly, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "I love you." Dominik smiled, holding you close. "I love you too, mi amor. Sweet dreams."

"You promise I can have you tomorrow?" You asked, your eyes half-closed, your voice soft and dreamy.

"I promise," Dominik replied, kissing your forehead as his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back as you started to drift off to sleep. "You can have all of me tomorrow, every moment, cariño. Goodnight."

You smiled sleepily, feeling completely safe and loved in Dominik's arms. "Can't wait."

Dominik watched with a smile as you drifted off to sleep, holding you close and whispering sweet nothings until his eyes grew heavy.

He pulled you even closer before he succumbed to sleep, finally relaxed and content, getting all the snuggles he wanted.

[pastryland]

f1 completed fic recommendations

Lestappen | Landoscar | Maxiel | Dando | Charlos | Brocedes | Carlando | Piarles | Galex | Sebchal

F1 fics are the main reason I got into this fandom and I figured I should share some (or so so many) fics that I like. While I do primarily follow Lando/Oscar and Charles/Carlos, I do read fics from other ships especially if they're from an author I like or the concept is interesting.

I have way too many fics (100+ though not all are completed) bookmarked so I'll just share my absolute favorites on this post and link posts of individual ships on their own posts. Also, I will continually keep updating this post and the other ones as fics complete and I read more.

If any of the authors of the fics mentioned here or are tagged and don't want their fics to be here, please let me know and I'll remove it!

❤️ = favorite

⭐️ = I love fics by this author in general

❌ = triggering themes

🔥 = explicit

Absolute Favorite Fics:

the trials of 2022 - 33k - Charles Leclerc/Carlos Sainz Jr - ❤️ ⭐️ 🔥

A partial summary of the 2022 season, as told by Charles or Carlos, following each race.

This would be my all-time favorite F1 fic if I had to choose, only rivaled by its currently unfinished sequel and the second fic here. Charles's and Carlos's relationship in this fic is so organic and realistic and the chemistry is incredibly tangible. The angst, tension, the emotion in this fic is delectable, beautiful writing by @/f1-stuff. Even if you aren't into this ship, I implore you to try this fic out.

the end of the strain - 19k - Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg, Lewis Hamilton/Sebastian Vettel - ❤️

They didn't end up together in the end, which he had already prepared for in his heart.   Lewis, in seven parts.

For the first time ever reading any fic of any fandom, I had to lie on the floor for a couple minutes to process the emotional damage this fic gave me. The characterizations of all the people are on point and the relationships are heartbreaking and devastating in all the right ways. If you want to cry or lie on the floor and contemplate love like I did, this is the fic for you.

Negative Splits - 10k - Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri - ❤️ ⭐️

So officially, Oscar Piastri, pretty good steepler and pretty bad pacer, was now a professional runner. They wanted him to steeple, mostly, though he’d be doing cross country in the fall, and Lando had pinky promised him, mid-distance guy to mid-distance guy, that if he wanted to get into the 3k flat indoor then he would get him in. Oscar didn’t really want to ask how he planned on doing that. Felt safer not to ask.

@/ocontraire is the queen of Sports AU's for the F1 boys (go check out her other fics too! They're also incredible). As an athlete myself, the mentalities of both Lando and Oscar are relatable to me, though I'm also fascinated by the differences in various sports. This fic is certainly on the more lighthearted side (emotionally at least) and I thoroughly enjoy Lando and Oscar's friendship/relationship and its development.

induction, consolidation, maintenance - 6k - Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc - ❤️ ❌

In which Charles is sick, Pierre is desperate, and he wishes he didn't have to do what he's doing to pay for Charles to have a chance.

Piarles is certainly not a ship that I read often, but this fic caught my eye and I'm certainly glad that I read it. Pierre's and Charles's relationship is quite cute, though I mainly love Pierre's desperation to save Charles no matter what. He is willing to do anything, the world could burn for all he cares, to make sure Charles is healthy again and it got me heavily in the feels.

glitch - 26k - Max Verstappen/Charles Leclerc - ❤️ ⭐️

Max hums. “Well, at least that means I won’t bump into Charles Leclerc again.” “Bummer, really,” Daniel says, moving back to his own seat and drinking the little bit of coffee that was still in the cup. “Could’ve been the start of a great love story.” Lando snorts. “Kids, it all started when I told your father, who had won two World Driver Championships at that point, that he sucked at driving.” Max sticks his middle finger up at them, and pulls his noise canceling headphones back over his ears. Only two hours left to go, he thinks, wistfully, and goes back to work.

I mainly read @/nyoomfruits's fics because of Landoscar, though this Lestappen fic took me completely by surprise. I adore the romcom vibes of this whole fic and Daniel and Lando are so hilarious and chaotic. Max's personality fits so well in this fic as an unbothered IT guy, but completely loses his composure when he meets Charles, his favorite F1 driver.

[twstbookclub]

Faded Away

SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 INCLUDED; THIS IS AN AU. THIS IS SIDE A OF A TWO PART STORY. HERE IS SIDE B.

This is side A.

Inspired by Fade Away by Riley Baron Summary: Childhood friends with Malleus, you were even supposed to marry him. You'd call him your fiancé, but he'd shoot you down with a smile. One day, Maleficia would announce that you would no longer be engaged to Malleus, but you had already decided to renounce that before, so it was okay. For Malleus, after experiencing loss in his life, everything he adored before began to fade away. Pronouns: Gender Neutral POV: 2nd Admin/Writer: Kai⚔️ Tags: Malleus Draconia, Changed fate, Childhood friends to lovers, lovers to strangers, angst with a sad ending, hurt no comfort Word count: 3,961

A/N: … sigh. If someone had told me a year ago that I would write nearly 4,000 words for Malleus Draconia angst, I would've laughed in their face. Despite that, I wrote this for two days and edited it for another two. I fixated on this man for FOUR DAYS nonstop, listening to playlists about falling in love with your comfort character but then saying goodbye, and I am still not done. I am genuinely proud of this work. Out of the 7 years I have been writing fanfiction, I have never been so happy to say this is one of my best works. And I don't really like Malleus like that. Attack me all y'all want, I know book 7 spoilers, and I was his stan(not simp) until I found out the truth and had to take a step BACK. I don't know what I feel about him now, but as a Silver girlie, I need someone to take the pen away from Yana Toboso.

Regardless of my feelings, I am glad I could write this and that the story turned out amazing. As I said, I'm not done, and I have another fic posting as soon as this one drops, so don't stray too far.

On that note, thank you for waiting and reading this long, longer than I would like to admit story. Enjoy.

The horns of this child were small, but the eyes of another child were fascinated at the sight of such a mature boy. The boy’s name was Malleus Draconia, the future King of Briar Valley. You were told that you would become his fiance when you grew up. You could feel your heart instantly pound and become fond of this young royal. You had already known him prior, growing up around the same time, and your families were somewhat close. Still, you couldn’t have imagined being able to marry him later down the line. He was aloof and neutral as a child, speaking to you when you would talk to him and only if he had a response. You loved him that way, anyway. 

“You’re my… fiance?” 

“I am! Don’t worry; I won’t go anywhere if it’s not with you!”

“Hmm… Then I can accept that.”

Growing up as teenagers was slightly different. It took some years, but he would begin to warm up to you. He would smile occasionally and accept the way you would call him “my fiance”, but still turn you down for the time being. Witnessing him become stressed caused a pang of guilt in your heart. Still, you’d quickly dissipate the feeling by messing around and seeing him feel better with your company.

“My fiance should be calm the way he usually is. How can his kingdom stay calm if he is not?”

Malleus would usually stare at you after you said things like that, then respond with, “You’re right… Alright. I will do that, but I’m not your fiance.”

Then, like clockwork, you’d laugh at him before responding, “Okay, okay, Prince Malleus. Whatever you say.”

Now, Malleus finally returned from studying at Night Raven College and settled back into his past routine. It took some months, since now there were new things he needed to learn before he could become king. He would follow without a complaint, though.

He was standing in a throne room, checking on documents and plans for the kingdom. You would simply trot in with your hands behind your back as you would often do, admiring him as your shoes would click against the floor.

“My fiance is working so hard already?” You teased, being playful and wanting to catch his attention.

“I’m not your fiance.” Malleus would say with a concentrated tone, his gruff voice echoing through the large room as the sound of documents being flipped echoed. 

“Right. King Malleus.” You stopped walking to give him a bow and then approached his side. You moved your hand to cling to his arm, but knowing your behavior, he already had an arm out for you.

“Not king either. I haven’t had my coronation yet. Queen Malecifia is planning that as we speak,” Malleus spoke again, then set down the documents and turned to you, his hair slightly swaying with his movement. His green eyes stared down at you, and then he captured a slight smile on his lips. “What is it that you need from me?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to see you and waste your time. I truly hope I am a bother,” you spoke playfully and took one of the loose documents into your hands to read through it. Malleus quickly took the paper before you could get too far into reading it. Right. Kingdom affairs.

Malleus gives you a look before sighing and pulling a chair out. “If I let you touch my horns, could you let me work?” He spoke, moving to sit down beside where you were standing. You grew excited at the opportunity to play with his horns and instantly went quiet to do so. You stood behind him and carefully adjusted his hair while examining every detail of the feature in front of you.

The atmosphere was quiet yet peaceful. Time felt like it was still, pen scratching paper occasionally sounds through the large room. Your hands gently held his horns, caressing them to remind yourself of its sharp and enticing structure.

Memories of childhood played through your mind as you watched him read these documents, soft breaths coming from him as his focus never broke. You did this exact thing all the time with him, especially during his study hours.

“Why do you like my horns so much?” Malleus spoke, suddenly breaking the silence and surprising you out of your trance. You thought about it momentarily, trying to find the right words to explain it, but you couldn't find a single word for how. Instead, you explained it the best you could. 

“Hmm… I don’t know. There’s something about seeing these horns that gives me some reassurance. Relief that I can still be your future beloved.” you answered before fixing his hair again. Messing with him like this felt right. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, being his future partner was something of fate. There were others out there with royal status just like you. Queen Maleficia could’ve replaced or sent you away, but she hadn’t. You were thankful every time you saw his grandmother.

“I see… You’re an odd one,” Malleus spoke softly, a faint breath being heard from him as he felt your hands let go of him. “You let go. Is something the matter?”

Malleus noticed you stayed quiet but didn’t hear you move either. So, he turned around, his breath catching at what he saw. His eyes were met with your side profile, your lips curling into a grin. Your eyes reflected the light like glass, and your hands fell to his shoulders.

“It’s the first snow of the season,” you said, mesmerized by the view. Your quiet voice showed just how enchanted you were. Malleus had an idea of how others felt about the first snow. All he took in from when you explained the moment to him was how special it could be for lovers.

Every time the first snow would fall, he’d watch from the window of his study how you admired the snowflakes as if you’d never seen them before. He watched you do this for years as if it was routine. Hell, it would be weird if he didn’t see you out there. 

Malleus took your wrist and made his way out towards the courtyard. He’s the one taking you out there this time? You could only follow and keep your excitement at bay from his behavior.

Arriving outside, Malleus fixed your winter cape, ensuring you wouldn’t feel too cold. He leaned against a wall as you played and tried to catch the snowflakes. Your smile was as bright as the white sky, and he would just stand there, watching you without a word, but more as if he was in thought. 

You noticed this and took a moment to gather some snow from the ground, putting it behind your back before moving towards him. “Are you alright? You seem to be lost in thought,” you asked, making him snap out of his trance to look at you. 

“I’m fine. I’m simply reminded of my time at the college from seeing all this snow. Why do you a—” 

Crunch.

He sighed, keeping his eyes closed before saying one thing. “... Why?’

Malleus was cut off by the impact of a snowball hitting his face. The icy crystals caused his skin to feel colder than it already was. He wiped the snow off his face as he witnessed you begin to back away. Every step back from you was a step forward for him, and you noticed how he had a straight-faced expression. You laughed nervously and grabbed his wrists, trying to hold him back.

“I just wanted to get your attention, Malleus!” You tried to explain, yelping when he would tower over you, but you would only find it all amusing. Malleus would chuckle, grabbing and throwing snow at you, not aiming for your face like you had done to him. 

This went on for a few minutes, enjoying the back-and-forth attacks, while the snow piled onto the ground through the mid-winter day. At one point, Malleus would grab you by the waist to keep you from straying too far away from him. The gesture felt nice, but also intimate as he’d only do this to stop you from being clumsy.

You held onto his arms and stepped back slowly, moving towards a stone pillar, while your eyes didn’t leave him. You glanced between his eyes, lips, and the horns you loved seeing. Even after he held you against the cold stone, there wasn’t anything to worry about, but him.

You felt nervous while giving his arms a light squeeze, and he carefully brushed his cold fingertips against your cheek, making you relax with your head leaning into his slight touch. Soon, his hand cupped your cheek to tilt your head, keeping you in place this time.

Finally, your eyes stayed on his lips. His green eyes admired your features to remember them down to the last detail. Your mingled breaths hit each other’s faces from the close proximity, then Malleus leaned close, his lips inching closer to yours.

It was cut short, though. You turned to the sound of someone clearing their throat, but your body would stop what it was doing and let go of Malleus, instantly bowing at the sight of a familiar lady.

Malleus would turn around next. His breathing was slightly uneven from getting caught in the act, but he’d still bow and greet the woman in the courtyard with them.

“Queen Maleficia, what brings you out here during this weather?” Malleus began first, slowly coming up with you to stand correctly.

“It is good to see you, Queen Maleficia.” You followed after, giving Malleus’s grandmother a warm smile.

“Not much, my dear. I’m glad to see you taking a break,” Maleficia returned the greeting and gave a smile as well. She’d soon drop that expression, though. “I need to speak to you about something important.”

Your body would tense up again, and you took that as a cue to leave them alone, so you bowed and took a step forward. “I’ll leave you be, then—”

“You aren’t going anywhere. You are part of this too.” Maleficia spoke earnestly, and she rarely had to speak in such a way to you. The last time you heard those words was when she scolded you and Malleus for disappearing to Lilia’s home.

Those words always made you nervous, especially since they usually meant something was wrong. You could only turn around and smile again.

“Right. I apologize for my assumption, Your Majesty,” you said carefully, instantly seeing Malleus turn to you with a look of curiosity.

Standing before Queen Maleficia, now in her study, you held your hands as Malleus stood near the high bookshelves. His grandmother stared out of her window briefly before taking a breath.

“Malleus.” Queen Maleficia began to speak, turning around to face you and Malleus somberly. “Your coronation is being planned, as you know, but something must be done before you can become king. You know what that is, correct?”

Malleus grew confused, but his eyes would widen slightly once he understood. “Marriage. What of it?”

As soon as Malleus answered, the woman would look towards you and smile lightly. “That’s correct. What do you plan to do about that?”

You stare at Malleus briefly before looking at Maleficia again, then smile softly. “I do want to marry the prince. That has not changed since we were children.”

Maleficia looked away from you, and then she made her way to stand in front of you. “That, my child, is what I can no longer allow. I am sorry.” 

Your eyes widened, and you saw Malleus perk up at the corner of your eye. He was shocked as well. “What…?” Is that the only thing you could say?

“What are you talking about?” Malleus sounded off. You couldn’t look at him. Your eyes would stay on the Queen before you, still in disbelief. 

“This is the best course of action. Forgive me, my child.”

“Queen M—No. Grandmother, what in the world are you referring to? Answer me!” Malleus began to demand, moving you back and getting ahead of Maleficia.

“Malleus, believe me, this was not easy.”

“I did not ask if it was easy. I did not ask if you’ve thought of this for weeks or months. I asked for an explanation, grandmother,” Malleus spoke sternly, going against Maleficia, which he had not done before. Maleficia was growing angry, but she remained calm regardless.

“I am doing this for you, for the kingdom of Briar Valley; to end a war before it could begin. You will do your duty as the future ruler of this kingdom.”

“You think the kingdom can decide who will be my partner in marriage for the rest of my life? You did that when I was a child! I went along with it and accepted it the first time as it was!” Malleus also grew angry at the way the events were unfolding. He had accepted everything without complaint, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut this time. This isn’t what he wanted.

“Now, Queen Maleficia, you wish to choose someone new? Someone I haven’t known my entire life and someone I cannot trust?”

“You will understand that as the future king. You do not need them as your fiance, and that is final. You will be marrying someone from another kingdom to stop us from going to war.” Maleficia had grown strict, firm even. Anyone else wouldn’t dare argue, not even you. You could only stay quiet from the words you were hearing. Your heart began to feel heavy from guilt as if it were a burden.

“What good will that do!? I do not need someone to help me run my life or the kingdom that will be under my wing some time from now!”

“I did it for you! I do not wish to see you become like your parents! You are my only grandson, and I lost your mother to war and the son, your father, I never had just before that. I raised you! Lilia and I were the ones who kept you alive. So, as your grandmother, I want you to keep yourself safe. Do this for yourself.” Maleficia was like a pleading mother. She needed Malleus to understand.

It was all so confusing to you. Malleus was trying to fight, but was it for you or him? Was it for his freedom? Did he love you? No. That couldn’t be it. You had to do something before he would do something drastic. You had to stop him before he could argue more.

Silence. 

Your hand wrapped around his own. Malleus froze from the sudden touch. “It’s okay,” you began softly, putting on a smile before looking up at Malleus.

The touch reminded you of when you snuck into his study as a teenager. You felt stressed once due to your studies and responsibilities becoming a large pile, and Malleus would hold your hand to put you at ease. He helped you with your studies by tutoring and keeping you focused, but concentrating was still difficult with your distant lover just inches away from you during that time. 

That short-lived memory was enough to make you agree to this. You loved him, but it was confusing. He was distant, but sometimes not. You loved him, but it was time. 

“Hey, Malleus?”

“Hmm?”

“What would it be like if I was only your friend, but never your fiance?”

A young Malleus had to think about that, but only one answer came to his mind.

“I would’ve figured out how to become your fiance again.”

Back to the decision before you, you smiled more before looking at Maleficia and squeezing Malleus’ hand lightly.

“I understand, Queen Maleficia. I apologize for no longer meeting your expectations,” you said respectfully. Malleus stared down at you with wide eyes, his hand starting to squeeze yours while it was still in his grasp.

“Don’t say that. You don’t need to do that—”

You shook your head and looked at him, clenching your free hand around his arm to cling to him. “I… wanted to talk to you, anyway. I’d call you my fiance, but you always turned me down. You said you simply accepted the necessity of my obligation as your lover. Now that we have to say our goodbyes, it worked out fine, did it not? I won’t fuss about this decision, as I have no say in the kingdom’s political matters. So, I will simply wish you happiness and good fortune in your marriage, Prince Malleus.”

“What are you talking about? You don’t know a thing.” Malleus whispered and took both of your hands into his, trying to keep himself calm in the midst of all of the mess. “I only rejected you because I wanted to properly propose to you. Only at the right moment between us and—”

“Hey… you don’t have to say any of that. You don’t need to. This is your kingdom. I am simply someone who had to be your lover.” Those words hurt for you to say, and Malleus looked… scared for once. In the time that you’d ever known him, he was the only person you loved. Malleus couldn’t let go of your hand or look away from you. You would disappear, he felt. Hearing those words come out of your mouth was painful enough as is.

You could only give him a bitter smile and force him to let go. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay,” you whisper and bow to Maleficia, then to Malleus. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me.”

You smile once more before swiftly leaving before anything else could happen. The longer you walked, the more your legs felt like jelly. You didn’t know where you were going, but you just wanted to leave. You wanted nothing more but to go back and take back your words. To fight for Malleus. Yet, you would never go against the crown. 

Malleus simply stood there in disbelief with his eyes glued to the door. Maleficia reached out to her grandson, but as soon as her hand landed on his shoulder, he slapped it off. He looked at his grandmother with a look of nothing. Agony. A heart-wrenching anguish clouded his mind and judgment once you had left the room. 

He didn’t want the touch of anyone else but you. How could he lose you so easily? His whole life, he had always gotten what he wanted. Yet, the one time he asked, begged, and pleaded for something in his life, it was stripped away right before his fingertips. Malleus’ body was on auto-pilot from the harsh reality. Then, he moved out of the study, but when he looked up, his body froze at the sight of you running out of the castle.

It was all his fault. He didn’t fight hard enough. Now, he had lost you. How could the Seven betray him so? He never thought that it would be so easy to leave him. To abandon the memories just because someone else requested it.

Once you felt the harsh wind and snow, your eyes began to water. Soon, your heavy breaths turned into heaving sobs. Before you knew it, you found yourself in the forest. How did you even get here? How far did your tired legs get you? What torture could you endure in this state? Then…

Every memory with Malleus started to flash through your head.

Every dance.

Every laugh.

Every touch.

Every look.

Everything. 

Your heaving sobs became screams of heartbreak. Agonized cries echoed throughout the quiet and dark forest of Briar Valley. You couldn’t feel the cold anymore. The cold didn’t matter when it felt like you left a piece of yourself in the castle. 

Malleus leaned against the wall from the window that he watched you disappear from, closing his eyes when he could hear your cries despite how far you actually were. He couldn’t do anything to fix it this time, not when you were convinced.

Meeting his new fiance was unbearable for Malleus, but he tolerated it. He never remembered any interaction he had with the woman he was supposed to marry now. The wedding was memorable for everyone but him, and you weren’t there. He knew you wouldn’t be there, but he would still smile to himself when he remembered things.

But then it wasn’t too long, maybe a couple of years, until the kingdom celebrated Malleus and his coronation. Everyone with royal status and Malleus' close friends were invited to the after-party celebration. You went alone and stood on the balcony outside, listening to everyone enjoy their festivities. You hadn’t heard about Malleus since you last stepped foot here. It felt like forever ago.

“I didn’t think you would show up. Not after what happened the last time.”

The familiar voice made you perk up and turn around, seeing his tall figure standing at the curtain’s frame. You stood at the stone barricade and smiled slightly at Malleus, bowing to him.

“I didn’t think you would seek my company, King Malleus.”

“That title sounds… weird coming from you,” he admitted, making you both laugh. You look at the horizon to watch the setting sun, going quiet along with him. You had to break the silence.

“So, how are you and your queen?” You asked, causing Malleus to look at you. 

“She is fine. She’s expecting, so she’s taking care of herself instead,” Malleus said, being careful with his words, but you wanted to hide behind your old, playful attitude.

“You were quite fast, weren’t you?” You responded with a laugh, but you could feel your heart breaking already.

“It’s been about two years since we last conversed. I don’t think that’s too fast,” Malleus spoke casually, but you would notice how he looked at you somberly, almost as if he didn’t like it as much as you did.

“I see. I wish the Queen and your child a safe and easy journey.” You said quietly, sounding a bit melancholic. You had to force those words out, and Malleus simply nodded to accept your wishes.

His look made you narrow your eyes towards the ground, not wanting to look at him as you knew it would only cause you more heartbreak.

“Malleus…” You called out quietly, sighing and leaning against the stone.

“Don’t say anything,” he whispered, looking out into the horizon just like you did moments ago.

After a few minutes of silence, the sun had finally set, turning the sky dark with the moon’s light shining down on you and Malleus.

“Thank you,” you broke the silence first amidst the faint clamor of festivities behind you, “for the chance to be with you for so long.”

Malleus looked at you,  then you looked at him in return. These looks turned into stares. Stares felt like time froze. It was you and him again, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

You engraved the details of his face into your head, and he was doing the same for you. When he broke the silence, the bubble around you two still hadn’t popped. 

“You were a wonderful experience,” he said sincerely, giving you a smile.

You smiled back, but before you could respond, others called Malleus over. He tried to stay there, but he was forced away. He was only able to take one more look at you before he disappeared. He faded away like a light swallowed by a deep darkness, which was so strange. It was only a change. 

You still kept your smile after he left. Now, you could say what you wanted.

“You were… everything.”

[igotsnothing]

OC Deep Dive Questionnaire

Thank you for tagging me, @lynzishell! You are the best and I enjoyed reading about Atlas and Asher so much- their warmth and affection were so evident throughout the entire questionnaire! ❤️

For this I chose Sasha and Gideon. If anyone is interested in a different pair, I'd be glad to do it again!

Gideon: Oh, we’ve been invited to do a Deep Dive Questionnaire!

Sasha: No. It’s absurd.

Gideon: We were tagged by Asher and Atlas, though. They’re so nice!

Sasha:  Buuh…Fine.

-What common/uncommon fear do they have?

Gideon: Are you scared of anything, Sasha? You have to be one of the most fearless people I know. Who walks into a vampire coven meeting like you did? You are something else.

Sasha: When I was little, my mom took me to a petting zoo and bought me feeding pellets to give to the geese; they all kept crowding me and chasing me around this pond and I thought I was going to die.

Gideon: What did you do?

Sasha: I threw all the pellets at them and jumped into the pond.

Gideon: That’s actually very scary for a young child! Did your mother have to jump in after you?

Sasha: Nooo. The pond was pretty shallow.

Gideon...How old were you?

Sasha: Like 10.

Gideon: PFFFF!

Sasha: Shut up.

Gideon: You’re so dramatic.

Sasha: What about you?

Gideon: I fear... not ever having you by my side.

Sasha: [Turning red and burying his face in Gideon’s chest]

Do they have any pet peeves?

Gideon: Hmm...Probably people who are rude, especially in public. It’s not that hard to hold the door for people or say excuse me, or turn your blinker on before making a turn.

Sasha: OMG, when people sit down at a table and keep talking to each other and when I come over to take their order, they’re like, “Oh, I didn’t get a chance to look at the menu yet.” I’m like- there are FOUR things on the menu. Just order or I will choose your food for you!

Gideon: You also dislike bad tippers.

Sasha: If I get another religious tract as a tip, someone is going to be meeting their lord sooner than they expected.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Sasha: We bought a bunch of stuff recently! We got a sofa bed and a fridge... What's one more thing?

Gideon: What about Mrs. Kachky?

Sasha: She goes where I go. She’s the only thing I have left of my mom’s.

Gideon: I'm feeling a little jealous. I think she gets more cuddles than I do...

Sasha: Awww! I’ll let you cuddle her too.

Gideon: [Inhaling deeply] I’m throwing you back into that pond.

What do they notice first in a person?

Gideon: Appearances can be deceiving. I’m more interested in seeing how people treat those they perceive as being beneath them. People often behave badly when they have any kind of power.

Sasha: I was raised in the Spice District! You think we make eye contact with people while walking around here? You keep walking- mind your business.

Gideon: Let’s combine the next two questions because I think they’re related.

On a scale of 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?  And -do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Gideon: I was a soldier when I was mortal and as a vampire, I’ve endured my share of attempts on my unlife: I’ve been stabbed, beaten, and I’ve escaped more than one attempt to burn me into ashes. I assess a situation before fighting. I won’t necessarily run if the odds are stacked heavily against me, but I may try to explore an alternative. I’d say I have a high tolerance. A 9.

Sasha: Me too.

Gideon: [Squinting and shaking his head]

Sasha: Okay, but in my defense that comb snagged my hair really hard- I didn’t expect that. Let’s say a 7.

Gideon: Or a 4... It’s ironic, because you won’t run from a fight. Even if you know you’ll get beaten up. It’s very paradoxical.

Sasha: In Sparta, we die like men!

Gideon: [Rolls his eyes].

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Gideon: My coven is my family, and it is a fairly large one. I think I’ve been somewhat absent and disconnected from them for a while now. I do miss that closeness we shared over the decades.

Sasha: Nope. It was my mom and my dad and me. After she died, I was pretty much on my own. My dad and I haven't spoken in years.

[Gideon reaches for his hand and clasps it tightly.]

Gideon: I'm always here for you, Sasha. You're not alone.

What animal represents them best?

Gideon: [Laughs]

Sasha: PASS!

What is a smell that they dislike?

Sasha: Depending on where you are walking in this city, every once in a while you’ll catch a whiff of weed that’s just skunky-ass bad. Or pee. Or trash water on the sidewalk.

Gideon: Garlic.

Have they broken any bones? if so, how?

Gideon: Oof...I’ve broken a few. I used to ride horses when I was a soldier and had my share of bad falls.

Sasha: I broke my arm falling off a jungle gym. I was in first or second grade. It wasn’t too bad. All my friends drew on my cast and then my arm was super stinky when the cast came off.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Sasha: Gideon? Sophisticated. And...Suede.

Gideon: Suede?

Sasha: Yeah! You know, someone like super confident and elegant...

Gideon: Did you mean...suave?

Sasha: ...Wut?

Gideon: [Quickly] Sasha is completely and devastatingly adorable and endearing.

Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

Gideon: I don’t need much sleep, but I find myself keeping hours similar to Sasha’s now.

Sasha: I stay up late when I work at the diner.

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

Sasha: This man loves the flavor of his fancy-pants whiskey.

Gideon: You forgot my favorite one: you.

Sasha: Stop it...And you hated Twizzlers.

Gideon: Why someone would eat a rope of twisted wax is beyond me. You hate fine whiskey- I'll never forget “liquid leather”. But you love junk food, which baffles me. Have some Styrofoam instead- at least it doesn't pretend to be real food.

Sasha: Heh! I got you some Tootsie Rolls and Necco candy... Can't wait to see you try those...

Do they have any hobbies?

Gideon: I love the arts. I frequented the theatre, museums, and concert halls often. I'd love to take Sasha with me sometime.

Sasha: I like walking around the city. There is always something interesting or new to see. Oh, and piling stuff into the hall closet so the contents fall down on Dima when he opens it. He falls for it. Every. Time.

Boom, surprise birthday party! how do they react to surprises?

Sasha and Gideon look at each other: No.

Sasha: Let’s say what we hate about surprise parties at the count of three. Ready? 1...2...3!

Gideon: Surprises.

Sasha: People.

Do they like to wear jewelry? if so, what is their favorite piece?

Gideon: I don’t really wear anything except for my Rolex Daytona.

Sasha: F*ck. How am I supposed to follow that? A few pizza-shaped earrings from Claire’s? They were super cute, though. Oh, and a friendship bracelet Tito made me a couple years ago. It broke off but I still have it somewhere.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Sasha: Have you seen his writing? It’s like he signed the Declaration of Independence. Mine is barely legible.  

What are two emotions they feel the most?

Gideon: I sense many of Sasha’s emotions, but I don’t want to put him on the spot.

Sasha: I do feel anxious and upset a lot.

Gideon: My emotions would be frustration and...Hmm...

Sasha: Horniness.

Gideon [Stares in mock surprise as Sasha snickers]

Do they have a favorite fabric?

Gideon: I like linen. It has an elegant simplicity that is timeless.

Sasha: I like flannel.

Gideon: [Playfully] Not suede?

Sasha: Oh, haha, you dick.

What kind of accent do they have?

Sasha: Do I even have an accent?

Gideon: You sound like you’re from San Myshuno. No doubt. What about me?

Sasha: You do have a pretty neutral accent, but every once in a while you’ll sound like you’re from Henford-on-Bagley.

Gideon: Well, it was more likely to hear Simlish from Henford since it is closer to where I hail from.

Sasha, imitating Gideon very hammily: Say, old chap, do you fancy a tipple of liquid leather with some freshly harvested Cheetos? No, wait- Cheeee-tooows!

[Laughing]

Sasha: Heh! I guess that wasn't so bad, after all...

I'm tagging the following storytellers who are wonderful: @agena87, @aurorangen, @eljeebee, @miss-may-i, @aheathen-conceivably, and if anyone else wants to play, please do so. And because I believe in miracles: @damseljamselI and @greighish. @lynzishell, if you wanted to do this for Phoenix and Dawn...here is your chance! I'd totally read it up! I'd tag more folks but I'm feeling a bit off these days and (irrationally- I hope) worried about bothering people. In that vein- this is totally optional! (butifyoudoitiwannareaditall!)

[stratocumulusperlucidus]

Mind the tags and take care of yourselves 💖

(Let me know if i should add other tags, i'll probably be posting about this a bit more but i know it's a sensitive topic)

No easy way to say this so i'll just rip off the band-aid. Janet had chronic kidney disease and it got worse and she passed away on Wednesday. I'm glad we were with her at the end and I'm glad she isn't suffering anymore and I miss her so so much.

Thanks everyone who sent good vibes and kind words last week 💖💖💖 we might complain a lot about tumblr being a hellsite and sometimes it is but there's so many kind people here and i really appreciate all of you 💖

I wrote about some of my favorite things about Janet because she was a great cat and everyone should know a little bit about her.

Most nights Janet would lay down on me, on my legs or on my back, or cuddle up against me. And I was always careful not to move too much to avoid disturbing her, but if I did, she would always come back anyways. Going to bed without her is probably the hardest thing.

When I was working from home, she would often come see me in the afternoon and curl up on my lap. If i had a zoom meeting, she would walk on the couch behind me or step on my lap to ask for attention and my coworkers always enjoyed seeing her.

She was never a very active or playful cat, but she was so cuddly. She could spend hours laying down on my lap or on my chest or against me. She liked it when we scratched her neck, and she would press against our hand so we scratched harder. She liked to get forehead kisses and she liked to give head bonks (she would bonk us pretty hard sometimes, it was almost kinda painful!)

She knew where to sit on the stove to make it beep to get our attention so we would open the tap to let her drink.

She was never the most agile cat, always very prudent and careful. Like she would wait for us to move our arm from the armrest so she could step down from the back of the couch instead of jumping from it. She wouldn't jump up on something without first looking up if she could.

She liked to lay down in the sun in the morning. Stretch out and bask in the warmth, flopped down on the balcony or on the carpet.

She always knew where to find the best cozy quiet places to nap. A few times we were searching for her for a while and we were so worried, up until we found her, asleep on a pile of towels in a bathroom cabinet we left half open.

She was so soft. She smelled so good. I miss her.

Grief is weird and i never know how to comfort people going through it because it's so different for everyone so i thought i'd share what i think might help me feel better. If you'd like, here's some things i would appreciate:

Send pictures of the pets you love or the pets you lost and tell me about them

Send fluffy or smutty fic recs (i've been reading please, please have me and re-reading voice note because i guess smut is comforting? Idk, grief is really weird)

Tight hugs / cuddle pile? being crushed and smothered by mutuals sounds nice rn

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Freak and The Princess (I)

Summary: Eddie lets you walk by during his rant in the cafeteria, stumped by your quietness and manners toward the town freak. He then decides to be the perfect gentlemen. [Part 1 of 5 depending on if anyone actually reads it.] 2k+ Words

Warnings: none! Just more fluff than a Pomeranian. There is also a very good chance Eddie is OOC but Imma risk it (if you get that reference, we should be friends).

A/N: (I'm terrified to do this.) This is the first thing that I've ever posted so constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated! I've been writing stories like this for years but have been too scared to post them for a variety of reasons, but I love writing and reading so if one person can get a little joy from this, then my goal is reached. I edited this and proofread it, but please point out any errors or things that you like! And please send requests; all the characters I write for are under my tag #characters! Hope you enjoy! :)

The Freak and The Princess

Part One: My Princess

Being as quiet as I am has its pros and cons. 

Pros: I don’t get noticed often, can easily observe everything around me, and can escape my real life whenever I want. 

Cons: when I do get noticed, it gets real. 

I’ve lived in Hawkins since eighth grade. Now I’m a senior. I don’t have any consistent friends, although Steve Harrington came to be someone I knew I could trust and talk to after dealing with the Russians side by side last year. The only person I noticed for myself was Eddie Munson. He was a big, bad high schooler when I moved here, and I guess that hasn’t changed. Since he’s two years older than me, we’ve never talked or met, but I know who he is, and he’s one of the few people who can make me smile without even realizing I’m there. 

I was walking through the cafeteria, trying to get outside away from all the noise and people, when I heard a voice I’d recognize anywhere say, “But as long as you’re into band, or... science. Or parties. Or A GAME WHERE YOU TOSS BALLS INTO LAUNDRY BASKETS!!”

I watched as he walked down the Hellfire lunch table, stopping at the end and responding to Jason’s comment with fake devil horns. He continued talking, jumping off the table and finishing. He stepped back, motioning for me and another girl ahead of me to walk by him. 

“Thanks,” I whispered, smiling as I met his eye. I felt his eyes on me as I walked by, and I decided he was trying to figure out who I was. I waited in an empty classroom until most people cleared out before walking to my locker and gathering my things. 

“Hey,” someone said beside me. I jumped slightly before turning to see Eddie leaning against the lockers and looking at me. 

“Hi, Eddie,” I said quietly.

“You know my name?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Man, now I feel bad. Let me guess?” 

I laughed lightly and nodded, closing my locker and picking up my bag. 

“Marcie? No, that doesn’t fit. Kelsey? Too cheerleader-y. Princess?”

“That your final guess?” I smiled. He nodded, a proud look on his face. My watch beeped, and I pressed it to silence it. 

“That’s my cue. See you around, Eddie!” I said, walking out the door. 

“See ya, princess!” he called. I blushed, glad to have my back to him. The next day I went to school as usual; until lunch. I walked into the cafeteria, on my way through as always, when I felt someone walk up beside me.

“Hey, so I haven’t seen you around before and wanted to introduce myself. I’m Jason Carver.”

I kept walking, not talking to him. “What, I can’t even get a name? Pretty girl like you has to have a pretty name!” I was at the door when he grabbed my wrist, “Look, I get that you’re shy. All I’m asking for is a name, beautiful.” 

He was surprisingly cordial, but I knew there had to be a catch. 

I thought quickly, deciding to say, “Arwen.” 

I pulled my hand from him and rushed outside. After my last class, I walked to my locker, hoping to see Eddie again, but soon my watch beeped, and I headed to work.

“Hey, kiddo, how was school?” Steve asked as I walked into Family Video and pulled my vest on. I shrugged and started stocking tapes. I heard the door open then close before Steve spoke to me again. “Something happen?” I shook my head no. “I’m gonna go check on Robin. I’ll be right back,” he said, moving past me quietly.

“Princess?” I heard from the other end of the aisle. 

I looked over to see Eddie with two tapes in his hand. I smiled at him and quietly said, “Hi.”

“Fancy meeting you here. Should'a known The Hair got to you,” he smiled, standing closer to me. 

“Take it easy, Munson,” Steve warned as he returned to the counter. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, causing me to laugh lightly. His smile widened, and he held two movies from the new release pile. “Which one?” I gestured to The Goonies, watching as he nodded and slid the other back where he’d pulled it from. 

“Didn’t see you at lunch today. You race through the cafeteria again?”

“Munson, leave her-“ Steve started before stopping when he heard me talking.

“Got corned by Carver and had to make a run for it,” I answered.

Steve jumped the counter, pointing at me as he rounded the corner into the aisle. “Did you just answer him?” Eddie and I nodded, Steve’s jaw dropping further. “How long have you two known each other?”

“Uh,” Eddie looked at his watch, “thirty-six hours.”

“And you’re already talking to him?” Steve asked incredulously. I shrugged in response, continuing what I was doing. 

“She talk to you?” Eddie asked Steve.

“Yeah, but it took her a lot longer to start.”

“I just have a welcoming and calming persona.” I laughed, shaking my head. Eddie walked past me to check out the movie, still bickering with Steve. He turned to me as he walked out, waving. 

“Let me know what you think,” I said, pointing to the tape with my chin. 

“Absolutely. See you tomorrow, princess.”

“Did Eddie 'The Freak' Munson just call you ‘princess’?”

“Yeah. He didn’t know my name, so he started calling me that.”

“Why didn’t you tell him your name?”

“Couldn’t. I don’t mind though.” I fell silent again, ignoring Steve’s questions and comments. I went home a few hours later, finishing my homework and hoping to see Eddie again tomorrow.

~

I exited my fourth-period class, ready to sit by myself for lunch. I walked into the cafeteria, taking a new route the other way around to avoid Jason. I ended up closer to the Hellfire table, smiling as I saw Eddie in a heated conversation with the boys.

“Hey, beautiful,” Jason said, slinging an arm around my shoulders as he came up behind me.

I was too far from the door and knew I couldn’t speak more than a few words. I only had one choice. I shrugged his arm off me and made a beeline for the Hellfire Table. There was an open seat by Eddie, so I slid into it, looking at him as they all silenced, staring at me. I flitted my eyes toward Jason, who glared at me and Eddie. I was shrinking into myself, wanting the floor to swallow me, when I felt Eddie grab my hand, his thumb rubbing the back.

“Guys, this is my princess. Princess, these are the guys,” he said. Then leaned in and whispered, “I won’t let anything happen to you, ‘kay?”

I nodded, squeezing his hand slightly. Jason stormed off, and I breathed a sigh of relief but didn’t move to leave, choosing instead to silently listen to the guys talk about their new Hellfire campaign as I played with Eddie’s rings. Walking out of my last class, I saw someone leaning against the locker beside mine.

“Thanks for the help at lunch,” I said, walking by him and opening my locker.

“Anytime, princess. You working today?”

“No, I’m off the rest of the week. Scheduling error by my idiot boss, Keith.”

Eddie nodded. We both looked out the window when a loud crack of thunder sounded, and rain started pouring down.

“You have a ride?” Eddie asked, pushing off the locker as I closed mine.

“No, but I don’t live far.”

“Absolutely not. I’ll give you a ride.” He slipped his jacket off and laid it over my shoulders. 

“Eddie, you don’t have to. It’s completely fine. I’ve walked home in the rain before.”

“A princess should never walk home. Let alone in the rain. As long as I’m here, it won’t happen again.” He extended his hand, “Milady.”

I placed my hand in his, our fingers interlacing as I said, “Why thank you, kind sir.” We ran to his van, and I gave him directions to my house. “See you tomorrow?” I asked, beginning to take his jacket off as he parked in my driveway. 

“Of course. Keep the jacket, you still have to walk in.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I can pick you up in the morning if it’s still raining like the forecast said.”

“I’d really like that. Thanks for the ride, Eddie.”

“A pleasure, princess.”

I ran to my front porch, shaking the rain off and unlocking my front door. I waved to Eddie as he backed out, then went into the empty house. There was one more day, then solitude. At least I had Eddie and Steve to make the days more tolerable.

~

Eddie kept his promise, pulling up in front of my house as I stepped outside. I moved to return his jacket, but he shook his head, “That’s yours until it stops raining.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep. Have to keep my princess dry and warm.”

‘My princess.’ His princess.

We walked into school together before going our separate ways for classes. I walked into the lunchroom, setting my sights on the Hellfire table. I was just a few steps away when Jason stopped me, standing between me and the table.

“You have a lot of nerve ignoring me,” he said loudly. I saw Eddie pick his head up and look over, making eye contact with me over Jason’s shoulder. He stood up but didn’t move toward me, waiting. 

“You gonna say anything? Can you even talk, Arwen?” I heard a few laughs before Jason continued, “What? Did The Freak sell your soul and your tongue to the devil?” I clenched my jaw, starting to see red. “Just a matter of time until he sacrifices you. Or worse,” he whispered. He backed up with an evil grin. Now everything was red. 

“How do you know he hasn’t sacrificed your soul? Oh, that’s right, your head is so far up your butt you’d notice the extra room,” I responded quickly.

The whole cafeteria broke out into yells and clapping. 

“What’d you just say to me?”

“I said to get your ears checked. Your ego seems to be clogging everything up.”

“Who do you think you are?”

“Not half the person you think you are.”

“If you want attention, baby, just come out and say it.”

I saw Eddie step toward us but gently shook my head, stopping him.

“Maybe I do want attention. But I promise I don’t want yours. So, if you’d be so kind as to move out of my way, I’d appreciate it.” He took a single step to the side. “Oh, and if you so much as look at me or any other member of Hellfire again, I will shove my foot up your butt until your heart stops. Got it?”

Jason nodded and rushed out of the room, everyone cheering again as I walked toward Eddie and grabbed his hand. He nodded, following me to an empty classroom. 

“Why did I do that?” I groaned as I sat down, burying my face in my hands. 

“Because you’re amazing.”

“Now people know who I am, and they’ll talk to me.”

“I’ll become your personal bodyguard. Nobody will be able to talk to my princess.”

The bell rang, and we reluctantly returned to classes, meeting by my locker at the end of the day. 

“Let’s drop by Hellfire real quick.” We entered the room, and he dug through a box before pulling something out and turning around, unfurling one of the signature Hellfire Club t-shirts. “This should fit. You called yourself a member at lunch and we have a very strict policy regarding verbal agreements.”

“Oh, of course,” I smiled and slid it over my other shirt.

We stopped by Family Video to return Eddie’s tape, Steve’s eyes widening as we walked in together, asking, “What’s happening here?”

“Someone stuck it to Carver today, in front of the whole school,” Eddie smiled. 

“Good job, babe,” Steve said as he began returning the movie, “How ya feelin'?”

“I’m ok,” I shrugged, “hoping this doesn’t lead to people trying to talk to me.”

“Well, keep hanging with this freak and it won’t be a problem.” Steve smirked at Eddie.

“Whatever, Hair.” Eddie playfully rolled his eyes. “Let’s go, princess.” He wrapped his arm around me, and I waved to Steve before walking toward the door.

“Take care of my girl,” Steve yelled.

“I’ll take care of MY princess,” Eddie yelled as the door closed.

A/N2: If you read this far, thank you so much! Please leave a comment or send me a message with any recommendations or requests (or if you're interested in more parts of this story). :)

[pynkgothicka]

Ｈｏｗ Ｔｈｅｙ Ｓｐｏｉｌ Ｙｏｕ

Synopsis - Just little Hcs for my envisioning of yandere! Bts

Tags and Warnings - SEX. Mentions of punishment I believe???

Authors Note - Something to hold y'all off while I get through this tae fic I got cooking

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

Jin

Gifts! Praise! Cooking!

Its literally his favorite thing to do, he doesn't really enjoy being mean and punishing you.

All he wants is a perfect relationship and that's all.

Something he really enjoys is putting on 50’s love songs and slow dancing with you in the living room. Its something he cherishes, as it gives some resemblance of normalcy when it came to the taboiness of your relationship.

“Oh! You like this stuff? I’m glad I love putting in that extra push just for you, now come on finish eating, I have a nice bath set up just for us.”

Namjoon

He spoils with love and attention

Being such a busy man, he finds time to hunker down with you and cuddle. Your presence often bringing him comfort.

He wouldn't dare have it any different. Especially if you'd been so good for him.

He also sometimes after a hard day at work comes home with a bouquet of roses and other nick knacks he knows only youd appreciate.

“I called in, I just don't feel like going in… I wanna spend some time with my baby…”

Yoongi

Sex.

That's all.

Literally just fucks you senseless, pushing you into overstimulation.

Yeah sometimes he’ll massage you, but that's just so he can get his hands on you enough to hint at what he actually wants.

“That feels good huh? There's so much more where that came from. I gotta reward you for being such a good girl.”

Hoseok

Trips!

If he's seen how good you've been and he gets some time off, you better expect him to come home and tell you to pack up.

He loves suspense too. He will keep up that suspense and surprise of where he's taking you for as long as he can. Just for fun in fact sometimes

Plus it's just you and him trapped in some foreign unknown place! It's just perfect in his eyes.

“Aw my little sugar plum, I'm glad you got everything packed. Me your going to love this vacation I promise.”

Jimin

He will smother you with just him.

He's overbearing and clingy so expect tons of cuddles just out of the blue.

If he's not cuddling you hes taking you out on dates. But more intimate dates like picnics

The two combined is almost identical to heaven for him

“Aw come here, I wanna hold you forever. You've been so good, you know how much I love it when your good for me.”

Taehyung

Gifts. And when I say gifts I mean it.

He has so much money, so why not spend it all on you?

Necklaces, Dresses, Shoes. Anything you could ever want

Sometimes it's things you've asked for or referenced wanting. But others and majority of the time it's things he thinks would look good on you. Then he has you model it all afterwards

You better make a good choice of what you try on last, because Taehyung is so riled up he's going to tear it off and then fuck you senseless

“Fuck you got me all worked up baby, you should come over here and help solve that problem.”

Jungkook

It's really a mix between fucking and taking you out

Sure sometimes he's in a big show off just how good my baby is being mood and takes you out to hang with him and his friends

But he has rules (you have to stick him 24/7 yada yada)

But then whenever he's not in a going out mood he's in a fuck you til you can only remember his name type of mood

“And whose been such a good fucking slut? Yeah that's right, only you… just you.”

[prince-liest]

The specific phrasing of “hurt very pretty” is. I knew before this series I was more into the soft sadism/dom thing but it’s soooo rare to find someone who does the exact flavor I’m into and I think that phrase in my head sooooo often

Ahaha, I'm so glad you're enjoying it! I've always really liked, as you describe it, soft sadism, where it's about the intimacy, the connection, and the sort of delightfully recursive loop you get when the suffering is enjoyed, and the enjoyment of the suffering also contributes to the suffering, whether it be via enthusiasm or humiliation. Funnily enough, despite the kind of stuff that I write, S&M that feels genuinely callous and miserable is fully capable of squicking me if it hits just wrong. I really like writing sadism that feels tender, even when it's violent.

Five more asks under the cut! If you sent something about 666 in the past 24-ish hours, it's probably there!

Your newest channel 666 fic had me so mixed on how to feel "Oh ok they're drunk and Al's on his lap... that wasn't in the tags oh no vox isn't advancing... nevermind he's electrocuting Al, i get it, a little something to get the blood pumping oh no wait he's actually electrocuting him oh good lord he's screaming in pain"

Hahaha, god, tagging this chapter was really a fucking nightmare - if there's anything you think I missed that's important to include, PLEASE let me know, because I tried to cover my bases but I really had to give up after a bit. It's just One Of Those Chapters and the first time I've used the Graphic Violence archive warning for something that was just fully consensual sexy times, haha. I hope it was at least enjoyable overall! Alastor certainly had a good time.

I've binged your 666 series and it irreversibly changed my brain chemistry It's more canon than everything that happened in the show itself to me - @grimfeywizard

Ahhhh, thank you so much! >:D I definitely tried to mimic the style of canon for the characters, especially for the first installments before they kinda went their own way character development wise, haha. I'm glad you like it!! <3

I was at a convention all weekend and when you updated BOTH times I snuck out of my group and into a corner to read them I am completely obsessed with this series 🙏🙏🙏 -@urlocal-cryptid7

Omg, glad to add the cherry on top of your con experience, hahaha. Thank you so much!!

hey there, just wanted to say i’m absolutely enraptured with the 666 series! it’s absolutely amazing and one of my favorite fics out there right now. i’m always looking forward to it and checking for updates, great work!!!!

Ahhhh, thank you for the kind words!! I'm really enjoying writing it in all of its weirdnesses, so it's always so nice to hear that people are enjoying the odd directions it goes!

Another fun radiostatic song: The Masochism Tango by Tom Lehrer - @butwhyaretheycalledstrawberries

This is 100% what I had playing in the car on repeat when I wrote one of the previous installments, hahaha. It's a fantastic radiostatic song, especially with the level of sadomasochism I write into 666.

(Anon who was awaiting the drunk Alastor shenanigans here) Me, pre-installment 8 of 666: Oh My God, it’s happening. Everybody STAY CALM- Me, post-installment 8 of 666: *ugly sobbing* it was everything i could ever hope for, your honor. The Prince(TM) is good and merciful. So yeah, expectations met as always 👍

Omg, ehehehe - drunk Alastor was honestly SO fun to write, because it's just... taking away a lot of his worries and inhibitions, and the behaviors that normally accompany them. I took what Mimzy said about him being a kitten when he's had a few drinks and lets loose and ran with it, and it turned out very enjoyable. I'm glad you also had a good time reading, hahaha!

[anonzentimes]

Don't cry, Zen! 😣

It sucks to see how people interpret Nagito in such a twisted way, even if it was supposed to be a joke. But as you said that people compliment you just for rambling about Nagito, your posts that you talk about him with so much love for him give me inner peace. I often see a lot of things about Nagito that differ from my interpretation, so I almost never check his tags on Tumblr. (Though I love to see fanart or read fanfics, as long as they match my interpretation). So blogs that I can read without worrying, like yours, are valuable to me.

Sorry this is not asking a question or anything! I just wanted to let you know that I always look forward to your posts. The image above is something I had in mind for quite a while when I saw your comment (you may be wondering when it was, but I don't remember either. lol). When I noticed that you used the sobbing emoji a lot, I came up with a composition of Nagito crying and Hajime soothing him. 😄

I hope it makes you smile, if only momentarily. Have a great day! :)

THIS IS SO ADORABLE!!! YOU JUST MADE MY DAY OH MY GOSH AHH THIS IS SO SWEET THIS MEANS THE WORLD TO ME!!! Thank you so much, this makes me so unbelievably happy I'll be smiling about this for such a long time!! I'm really glad that you're able to enjoy my blog without worry, and the idea that it gives you inner peace is so sweet. The least I can do to express my love while having an outlet for the excess energy he gives me is by rambling about him, and I'm so happy that people adore the love I express and feel for him. The way I'm able to just speak from the heart about him and people enjoy it is such an amazing experience that I could have never expected!

Thank you again, your art is always so wonderful and I'm really grateful you sent this to me! I've been a a fan of your work since before you started seeing my posts, so when you started seeing them and sending asks I kind of freaked out haha! You're a really nice and talented person, I appreciate you a lot! 🩷🩷🩷

[maypop-the-dragon]

PSA: Free Software

Reading this may really save your time, privacy, and money! Reblog or share to spread awareness!

Folks often use software that’s expensive and sometimes even inferior because they don’t know there are alternatives. So to those unfamiliar: basically, free and open-source (FOSS) or "libre" software is free to use and anyone can access the original code to make their own version or work on fixing problems.

That does not mean anyone can randomly add a virus and give it to everyone—any respectable libre project has checks in place to make sure changes to the official version are good! Libre software is typically developed by communities who really care about the quality of the software as a goal in itself.

There are libre alternatives to many well-known programs that do everything an average user needs (find out more under the cut!) for free with no DRM, license keys, or subscriptions.

Using libre software when possible is an easy way to fight against and free yourself from corporate greed while actually being more convenient in many cases! If you need an app to do something, perhaps try searching online for things like:

foss [whatever it is]

libre [whatever it is]

open source [whatever it is]

Feel free to recommend more libre software in the tags, replies, comments, or whatever you freaks like to do!

Some Libre Software I Personally Enjoy…

LibreOffice

LibreOffice is an office suite, much like Microsoft Office. It includes equivalents for apps like Word, Excel, and Powerpoint, which can view and edit files created for those apps.

I can't say I've used it much myself yet. I do not personally like using office software except when I have to for school.

OpenShot

OpenShot Video Editor is, as the name suggests, a video editing program. It has industry-standard features like splicing, layering, transitions, and greenscreen.

I've only made one video with it so far, but I'm already very happy with it. I had already paid for a video editor (Cyberlink PowerDirector Pro), but I needed to reinstall it and I didn't remember how. Out of desperation, I searched up "FOSS video editor" and I'm so glad I did. There's no launcher, there's no promotion of other apps and asset packs—it's just a video editor with a normal installer.

GIMP

GNU Image Manipulation Program is an image editor, much like Photoshop. Originally created for Linux but also available for Windows and MacOS, it provides plenty of functionality for editing images. It is a bit unintuitive to learn at first, though.

I've used it to create and modify images for years, including logos, really bad traceover art, and Minecraft textures. It doesn't have certain advanced tech like AI paint-in, but it has served my purposes well and it might just work for yours!

(Be sure to go to Windows > Dockable Dialogs > Colors. I have no idea why that's not enabled by default.)

Audacity

Audacity is an audio editing program. It can record, load, splice, and layer audio files and apply effects to them.

Audacity is another program I've used for a long time. It is not designed to compose music, but it is great for podcasts, simple edits, and loading legacy MS Paint to hear cool noises.

7-Zip

7-Zip is a file manager and archive tool. It supports many archive types including ZIP, RAR, TAR, and its own format, 7Z. It can view and modify the contents of archives, encrypt and decrypt archives, and all that good stuff.

Personally, I use 7-Zip to look inside JAR files for Minecraft reasons. I must admit that its UI is ugly.

Firefox

Firefox is an internet browser, much like Google Chrome, Microsoft Edge, or Safari. While browsers are free, many of them include tracking or other anti-consumer practices. For example, Google plans to release an update to Chromium (the base that most browsers are built from these days) that makes ad blockers less effective by removing the APIs they currently rely on.

Aside from fighting monopolies, benefits include: support for animated themes (the one in the picture is Purple Night Theme), good ad blockers forever, an (albeit hidden) compact UI option (available on about:config), and a cute fox icon.

uBlock Origin

As far as I know, uBlock Origin is one of the best ad blockers there is.

I was on a sketchy website with my brother, and he was using Opera GX's ad blocker. Much of the time when he clicked on anything, it would take us to a random sponsored page. I suggested that he try uBlock Origin, and with uBlock Origin, that didn't happen anymore.

Linux

Linux is a kernel, but the term is often used to refer to operating systems (much like Windows or MacOS) built on it. There are many different Linux-based operating systems (or "distros") to choose from, but apps made for Linux usually work on most popular distros. You can also use many normally Windows-only apps on Linux through compatibility layers like WINE.

I don't have all four of these, so the images are from Wikipedia. I tried to show a variety of Linux distros made for different kinds of users.

If you want to replace your operating system, I recommend being very careful because you can end up breaking things. Many computer manufacturers don't care about supporting Linux, meaning that things may not work (Nvidia graphic cards notoriously have issues on Linux, for example).

Personally, I tried installing Pop!_OS on a laptop, and the sound output mysteriously doesn't work. I may try switching to Arch Linux, since it is extremely customizable and I might be able to experiment until I find a configuration where the audio works.

Many Linux distros offer "Live USB" functionality, which works as both a demo and an installer. You should thoroughly test your distro on a Live USB session before you actually install it to be absolutely sure that everything works. Even if it seems fine, you should probably look into dual-booting with your existing operating system, just in case you need it for some reason.

Happy computering!

[betweensaintsandmonsters]

What’s up readers?! How about a little show and tell? Answer these 13 questions, tag 13 lucky readers and if you’re feeling extra bookish add a shelfie! Let’s Go!

Tagged by @willameena 💖💖💖 thank you!!! i absolutely love talking about books!! pls talk to me about books

1) The Last book I read:

so you don't get lost in the neighborhood by patrick modiano -- this is a book about the failure of memory i think. the narrator is forced to reckon with events from his past that he doesn't really remember? it's not as interesting as it sounds but it was an alright read!

2) A book I recommend:

the stardust thief by chelsea abdullah -- i listened to this audiobook on my way to work and then immediately bought a physical copy because it was so so good! it's a take on the one thousand and one nights and it's absolutely thrilling from start to finish <3

3) A book that I couldn’t put down:

clap when you land by elizabeth acevedo -- books in verse aren't normally my thing but elizabeth acevedo is a master of the craft and this story of family is heart wrenching and made me cry

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more):

we are okay by nina lacour -- this is possibly my favorite book i read it when i need to cry or to feel something. i know that says nothing about the story but it's so good and queer and beautiful i highly recommend

5) A book on my TBR:

the 85 books that are on my bookshelf that i haven't read and my overused library card are taunting me with this question. the one i can see from where i'm sitting on my bed is i'm glad my mom died by jeanette mccurdy but i don't know if that's gonna happen anytime soon. i also really want to get to on earth we're briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong but i think that's also going to make me cry

6) A book I’ve put down:

i rarely put books down on purpose. often i'll start things and then life will happen and i won't want to start the book from the beginning again so it gets put down. i wish i didn't finish the hobbit because i was in 7th grade and didn't know you could just... not finish something you don't like. three books that i will probably get back to at some point though are: tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow by gabrielle zevin, the priory of the orange tree by samantha shannon and helen of troy by bethany hughes

7) A book on my wish list:

i don't really keep a book wishlist! probably something by emily henry because i've been in a romcom mood lately

8) A favorite book from childhood:

inkheart by cornelia funke -- i think this is the book that made me love reading tbh i identified so strongly with meggie and i loved dustfinger and it just got me i also really loved because of win dixie (and i should reread it, i have a copy sitting in my kitchen right now)

9) A book you would give to a friend:

the long way to a small angry planet by becky chambers -- i lied earlier this might be my favorite book. you want a really good found family? you want a harrowing space adventure? you want to see characters that become more real? this is the book for you. this book is about the heart of a family and the home you make and the decision to keep choosing each other and being there in the good times and bad i don't have enough good things to say about it tbh it's pretty much perfect!! i gifted it to a boy once right before i left england (after he came to see a play with me having absolutely no interest in theatre) and having him read it and enjoy it was a highlight of my trip besides going on that date with him that i didn't realize was a date until i was on a plane over the atlantic.

10) A book of poetry or lyrics that you own:

crush by richard siken -- i'm gay i am legally obligated to own this book

11) A nonfiction book you own:

most of my nonfiction books are memoirs! but here are my top three that i will get to reading at some point!! 1. helen of troy by bethany hughes 2. poet warrior by joy harjo 3. something about the witch trials that i don't remember the name of right now and can't actively see on my shelf

12) What are you currently reading:

summer sons by lee mandelo -- it's gay there's ghosts and messy boys and grief and i'm a quarter of the way done and already know that i'm going to read it again because it's going to wreck me emotionally

13) What are you planning on reading next?

i think i'm going to finish invisible cities by italo calvino next!!

no pressure to do this!! but tagging: @grapenehifics @ragnarlothcat @kittonafoxgirl @bisexualobiwankenobi @tideswept @palfriendpatine66 @thegingerwrites @renlyslittlerose

i'd love to add more books to my infinite pile of books to read!!!!

[needfantasticstories]

No need to post if you don’t want to, but wanted to say I really like this point. I’ve spent hours combing books and lore to try to get things right because you never know who will point out it’s wrong. For something that’s a hobby, that’s often too much work for casual fans/writers.

And personally, I like having my own takes on the character vs sticking to canon or the comic

I'll go ahead and preach to the choir, lol.

Your art has made me THINK. Has made me incorporate new ideas. It's been an absolute joy to watch you develop your Wing Bois AU and the thought behind the process and the JOY you're getting out of it is CONTAGIOUS and I feel like that's part of the fun, part of the point.

So yeah, I'll try and make sure I'm more considerate with tags, and once again MAD respect to all content makers and sharers. Let's PLAY!

More nonessential jabbering below the cut:

LU became more fun when I started to create my own fics rather than get mad about running out of ones to read. I learned fast that I have unusual tastes (specific flavors of angst) and that I wasn't alone, and that reading and collaborating with other authors is hella fun and teaches me a ton.

We all know how hard it is to "get into" this fandom. But that's supposed to be FUN, not a test. It's a million Easter Eggs we get to hunt. And we are SO SPOILED with a glut of content! It's AMAZING! (and with challenges like whump/fluff, or course there will be shorthand for characters and dumbing things down/glossing over and ignoring some dynamics and facts because we've only got a month and we need to write 28-31 fics! I only got halfway through)

I love squishy Hyrule as much as a good feral-enough-to-bite-a-man's-fingers-off Hyrule. Mine will eventually shove pottery shards into an enemies eyes when he's run out of other weapons, and then he'll cry in Legend's arms because I like it when he's both! And you can justify so much! Like what if he becomes squishy because he's gotten comfortable with having so many others who can help him chill for a change, and he discovers when he's relaxed for more than a few hours, for the first time, he is deep down kind of squishy and affectionate! Or that he hates it! It's fun to explore them. Each character version is a new dungeon to examine. Familiar isn't bad, nor is new. I love traumatized, I love not traumatized.

I'm guilty of having preferences, but heck, I've learned to embrace some of the angles I didn't like at first because I learned new details, or an author introduced a justification I could buy into and I loved it. I never would have shipped Rav and Legend, but I'm glad for all those who did so now I can enjoy MORE ships, depending on my mood or the direction of the story. And sometimes we make these boys a bit weaker than they are in their games because they're so stinking powerful, and we need them to question themselves.

[judasiskariot]

✨Writing Interview Tag Game✨

The 🖤judasiskariot❤ round - thank you lovely delightful @pinkberrytea for the tag 💕🌸

When did you start writing?

Already enjoyed writing creative essays at school. Wrote my first fanfiction (yugioh) as a teenie at an anime/fandom website. Got really into it, with writing fanfiction about a RPG I were playing/writing at the very same time.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Maybe I read more smut than writing it. Because it seems I always need to put up huge story before smut, so it makes sense, cause the ghost of dumb it is ooc comments are still in my head.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I guess not. Both ways (I just often say I am a film noir or Tolkien type cause I often get lost in description or heavy in inner monologue. We could be in Mordor....or only went down the hill, same length. So happens with me. (So gods no never ever would I say I can write like Tolkien!!!! I just mean by that, that I do not keep some things sharp and short when maybe needed, as I do prefer in real life)

I am a huge Dante Alighieri and Vergil fan, compare me to them and I will always love you 🤣🤣

I just feel like a bardic soul 💜📜🪶

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Desk is always occupied. Also is there gym, man sleeping medieval storage cave (The Manc Ave, right Terry and Korvo? 😉Dig old bicks)

Hardly wifi connection in there. I have no stationary pc, only cheap small laptop (it is hard to be a bard xD) so writing on the couch.

I have reading and writing candles (my luxury; even I should not)

Love to write in my bard poetry book outside in the nature 🌳🏞️🏕️☀️

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

🤷‍♀️

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

DRAMA OVER BLOODY DRAMA

I am the drama queen.

Love some angst and emotional damage; make it harder than it needs to be.

But also horror, gore, love and smut.

Never surprised.

and dumb sassy joking; could write forever funny crosstalks like chat. Would anyone read that? Than I would write all my ideas, ALL! So efficient and quickly. Sooo...I get lost in my Tolkien surroundings 😅🙈

maybe i write more cheesy and theatrically than I thought 🤔

What is your reason for writing?

SOMEONE HAS TO DO IT, RIGHT?🤷‍♀️

😄

No. I am not skilled in any other divine arts and I guess that's the only thing I can call on. I like it. I always liked it. I can create something, that's nice. And I've written so much RPG and FF as a teenager, I messed it up and I hate that I didn't do it for over 10 years now. Why abandon the thing you were good at, had fun with, made progress while practicing? So that all progress seems lost and you have to start from zero?

I'm glad I've started making progress again, maintaining what I once set out to do, and learning to be better.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I'm incredibly happy with every single comment, even if it's just a smiley.

" You really did read my thing? How great is that!?!?" 😍🤩

But comments with a specific part or a line that they liked or whatever, their specific thoughts on certain parts are incredible. As a writer, I need feedback to know if I'm doing well and if I'm on the right track. Do others know what I wanted to say? Does it come out right? Otherwise I cannot improve.

If someone shares their exact first thoughts, what they thought about certain passages while reading, then the work pays off. 😍😍🤤🤤

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

As someome whose writig is good? 😅🤷‍♀️🙈 someone they can talk to. some nerdie partner in crime.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I have no clue. No one told me. I guess maybe having drama ideas and writing the inner struggles of characters.

How do you feel about your own writing?

Also here not much confidence in my own writing.

I got the two beasts in me: GOD YES! BEST WRITING EVER. THIS IS SO GOOD! THEY HAVE TO LOVE IT! CAN'T WAIT FOR REACTON TO THIS!🤩

Reread it: what da fuck is this?! 😠 I thought this was good?! I have no clue where I wanted to go with that 🤷‍♀️

BUT I can also be proud, reread it and think "I did this. I created that myself. It may be not the best, just small and silly and cliché, but I created it myself!" Be proud, all of you writers!! 👏🏻🫵🏻💪🏻 We are forgotten so often.

Do people criticize paintings for being ooc? Well..I guess assholes being assholes in every aspect of life 😅😆

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I do it cause I want to. But of course the external motivation is important. Lack of comments and feedback makes you quit, mean people make you quit. You post cause you want to share your joy with others, hope they enjoy it too. When they do not, it can be bitter.

But still for me I guess. But non the less, I pick up things I think others will like (but not troping or so, writing things I dislike myself cause they are gaining online likes and so on; not in that way never) When I know a certain mutual/friend is reading the thing, I put easter eggs/insiders in it, they should get; things I think they might like and makes them smile. If someone would request some things they would like to happen/read, I would totally pick it up when possible. Shared happyness is happyness doubled.

thanks for the tag lovely

All my muts, please keep tagging me. I just keep forget doing it, when I can't do it right away.

And spinning head prevents me from that. I see what nonsense I write in the DMs and in every lil post a huge amount of spelling mistakes; I can't do it better at the moment; so embarrassing🙈

I've had a hectic time, sorry, but I love things like that and always smile when I get tagged😃😘 (and sometimes I'm a little unsure about telling something about myself. The urge to disappear completely one day and the next day I urge to overshare. Plus bad experiences with some folks😅🙈 )

I tag @nihil-ism @damadisangue

@sorceresssundries

@mercymaker

maybe you guys want to ramble a lil bit

[check out their works (if you like 😘)]

[saintqueer]

I'm sorry you got harassed again just from a simple post with a (imo pretty valid) opinion. If that person is the same that answered your post by reblogging and repplying on their blog with unnecessary hate (apparently queer but a solo louie) then it's the one I just blocked. I love to currate my experience in this fandom. Anyway I just wanted to say, I used to love your posts in this fandom! I lost track of your blog and thought you'd disappeard. I'm glad to see you're still on Tumblr and enjoying other fandoms. I'm well aware of how toxic this fandom can get (between the hets, the solos often queer themselves but hating on queer larries and more, to many groups to count tbh, louis' attitude on social media ect), especially when you dare to voice an opinion, which I'm mostly don't lol. I'm staying for the art, the fics, the great memes and ofc the music and the people. You're "y'all" made me think 'I Hope she still got good times and friends out if it. I made some great friends in the larries bunch myself. Anyway sorry for the rant, I lost track of what was my point here. Just was happy to see you pop on my dash through a mutual and wanted to say so I guess?? So once again thank you for the fun times I had reading your posts back in the days; have a great time out here, enjoying your favs fandoms, you do you! Sending love xx

so i was trying to avoid posting any anons regarding prev fandom discourse but i opened this one and read it through and it was just so amazing i had to respond, not just in tags 🥹🥹

of course, it's lovely to hear that you liked my posts on fandom back in the day etc but what really got me was when you wanted to make sure i still got good times and friends out of it, that nearly made me cry

because YEAH I FUCKING DID 🥺😩🥺🥹🥲

blue ( @wastelandbabyblue ) is literally one of the coolest people i've ever known while also being one of the kindest and funniest. id literally kill to meet her one day in person. i still keep up with brenda and several others i met in her og discord, some of which are the only remaining 1d fandom blogs i still follow here - they are so kind and funny and i still talk to them occasionally in a fandom discord i stayed in because i didn't want to lose touch with them.

and 🥹🥹🥹

i met 8 of who i would consider my closest friends in the whole world through fandom. through the most insane wild and unruly fandom discord drama, i literally located my found family: wedo, nino, iza, katja, olia, hanis, chloe, and su

we talk everyday still even though we live all over the world and we talk about nearly everything except fandom nowadays and they've helped me survive living day to day through some of the worst moments of my life. i don't know what i'd do if i didn't have them in my life

last night, i had a bit of a shame spiral thinking about all the time energy money i devoted to the 1d fandom. i felt embarrassed for being so loud about something that ended in so much disappointment. it wasn't fun and i know it was probably triggered by being involved in some discussions i hadn't been in so long

so when i opened this ask, anon, it reminded me so much that whatever was lost from that time, so much more was gained. the embarrassment of remembering dancing around like a fool with a rainbow flag for someone who couldn't even say something as simple as "look at all those colors" pales in comparison to the lifelong friendship i gained with these 8 beautiful women all across the globe

nothing will ever compare to the people i met and the way they feel closer to family than any of my blood ever felt

i'm glad that you found so much goodness as well and thank you for reminding me that it was all worth it for what i got