#I can’t lose them too they’re everything

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-three —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.5k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. harm to a child. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: clearly I am bad at estimating how long this story will take lol

Alexandre is not as susceptible to pain.

The guard outside his home didn’t register his death, not with Ghost as a shadow at his back. One wrench to his neck, and Kyle plucked the key off his corpse, gently opening the planked door. As the three of them swept the inside, you and Ari hoisted the body in. A sudden crash of breaking glass and the sounds of a struggle made it clear—they got Alexandre. He must have woken up.

But restrained to a dining chair by chains from the slaughterhouse, all he offers up is a bloody tooth on the floor—nothing about Blue or the weapons.

"Brûlez en enfer, pécheurs!"

Ghost snarls and tears a fistful of hair from his scalp. Alexandre only spits more blood, teeth clenched.

"He's wasting our time," you mutter, dread curling in your chest. A glance at the window—the sky could turn deep purple any second. You touch Ghost's elbow. "We should just look for—"

"He'll talk."

Ghost draws the knife. He drives his knuckles into Alexandre’s mouth, smothering the scream as the blade severs his pinky. Blood spills over raw bone. Finally, he writhes—eyes rolling back, knees violently shaking.

"Tell us where everything is, or these go next," Ghost snaps, holding up his middle and ring fingers.

He pulls his fist from his mouth. Alexandre sputters, lips twitching from the pain. Under his breath, he groans, "Sal... Mon enfant."

"What is he saying?" Kyle presses.

Ghost positions the knife at the next digit. "Speak up. English."

Alexandre's eyes threaten to close. He whispers something quieter—

"Salome?" you speak up.

His eyes snap open at the name.

You lower beside Ghost, leaning closer, your eyes darting over his swollen face. "Salome. Your 'enfant.' The child is yours, isn’t it?" A flicker of rage flares in his nostrils, and you quietly press on, "You must be worried about her. She was tending to us, you know. Don’t you want to know if she lives? It'd be a shame if she doesn’t. She was so excited for the baby, especially after losing the first one in the winter. I’m guessing that one was yours, too." You let the words hang, then wet your lips, feigning consideration. "The thing is, it’s been a long night. My memory’s hazy. Can’t recall if I slit her throat or not, but I do remember her begging me to spare her—for the child’s sake."

At this, he jolts. "Tu fais chier—"

Ghost covers his mouth.

You keep your voice smooth. "Maybe if you tell us where the girl and the weapons are, I’ll remember. Otherwise, he’ll kill you, and you’ll die not knowing."

The silence breaks as Ghost drives the knife into the base of his finger. Alexandre grits out, "The girl... I don’t know where my mother kept her. But if sunrise is near... She could be at the chapel now, to prepare."

The one you saw? "How many chapels are there here?" you ask.

"Only one for... offerings."

You glance at Ghost and whisper, "If we can find the road, I could get us back to it."

He nods, not looking away from Alexandre. "The guns," he says. "Where are they?"

"I can... show you."

"You're not showing us shit. Tell us exactly where to find them."

Alexandre holds his gaze. "I could tell you wrong, yes? Waste your time. Or I can show you, and you can kill me if they’re not there."

"Don’t let him play games, Simon," Price calls from behind.

Ghost exhales roughly.

Alexandre looks at you. "But you must tell me of Salome first."

"She's alive," you tell him. "But if you don’t show us where the guns are, it’s not just you who will die."

The chains bite into his wrists as Ghost yanks him up by his soiled lapel. A pistol pressed to his temple, Alexandre stumbles forward, his feet dragging over the corpse at the door before leading you outside. The moonlight feels sharper, casting shadows over the pitted ground as you step carefully beside him, scanning the area. No more alarms yet. But when the guards change shifts, that won’t last.

No one speaks as he leads you around the pasture and barn, toward the back, where the silhouette of a small shed takes shape in the darkness. As you near, a three-tuned call cuts through the air, beckoning Alexandre's gaze to the sky, a soft murmur escaping his lips: "La tourterelle chante pour toi."

"Shut up."

Ghost strikes the back of his head with the gun to silence him.

You stop in front of the shed. It is only just bigger than the one you used to sleep in.

"Is this it?"

"Yes," Alexandre nods. "Inside."

Kyle is the one to kick open the door. As expected, the smell of rusty metal hits your nose as you take in the clutter of rakes, shovels, and scythes. There is a wheelbarrow against the wall with nothing inside but residual soil. No weapons in sight.

Ghost cocks the pistol. "You're fucking around with your kid's life—"

"Under the floor," Alexandre flinches, then juts his chin at the planks of wood, "The extra guns, ammo. It is under there."

Ghost shoves the gun into Kyle’s hand. Without hesitation, Kyle takes over, keeping it steady as Ghost drops to his knees, running his fingers over the floorboards. A sharp knock��hollow. He drives his knife between the slats and pries them open.

The unmistakable glint of metal catches your eye. Rifles. Green and gold cartridges, too. Ghost inhales sharply, tearing up more of the floor. Price moves in, yanking out boxes, sorting through the ammo they need to load up. You linger by the door, glancing back over your shoulder. The guns are yours. Now, you'll need to find the chapel. Maybe Blue isn’t there yet. Maybe you can get there first.

Lost in thought, you almost miss it—that softly cooing dove, the kind you used to wake up to in England. Again, Alexandre mutters in French beside you where Kyle quiets him with a shove at his shoulder. Then you detect a shift in the air—no, you squint and realize it is movement in the grass by the barn.

Alexandre suddenly shouts, "La tourterelle chante pour toi!"

The echo of his words is followed by the crack of a pistol. Kyle’s shot strikes his head, and his body crumples at your feet.

You whip around, panic flaring in your chest as you look at Ghost. "Someone was there. He said something to warn them. They're going to wake up the others!"

Ghost's glare snaps towards Kyle. "The gunshot probably already did."

Kyle releases a growl. "Fuck, I didn't think—"

"Take this," Price interrupts, throwing a loaded rifle at Kyle. 

For you, Nereida, and Ari, a small handgun.

But by the time your finger seeks out the trigger, you hear a myriad of voices shout from the barn.

B

Blue sits at a small table. Across from her is that old woman, eating silently. Only the sound of metal on ceramic, and gentle chewing, fills the dining room. Blue's teeth mechanically grind a tart, red berry into pulp, then let it slide down her throat, her eyes never leaving the white plate. On the faintly reflective surface, a years-old memory blurs into focus.

She sits in the back of her dad’s truck, her small hands folded in her lap. The air is thick with the smell of cigarette smoke. Her eyes are fixed on the passing buildings and people, the streets beginning to feel unfamiliar. Then, her dad mutters something low under his breath, the tires screeching as he sharply veers into a petrol station.

He unbuckles and slams the front door, moving quickly around the truck to help her out. "Come on, kid," he says quietly, lifting her up gently before setting her on the ground. Her hand slips instinctively into his.

"Don’t look at anyone," he mutters as he tugs her toward the small food mart.

"Why, daddy?" she whispers up at him.

"Because I said so."

"Why are we here?"

"I need to get something."

"What for?"

The silence stretches between them, and a cold knot of fear tightens in her stomach. He doesn’t answer, and she can’t remember how they got here. She had been in her bedroom, where her mother had told her to stay. There was shouting through the door before it flung open, then her father grabbed her, and suddenly, her mom’s voice faded behind them.

Her father guides her through the aisles, pulling items off shelves. She tries not to look at the old man nearby, her eyes fixed on the hem of his jacket, her fingers nervously tugging at it.

"Why isn’t my mum coming with us?" she asks.

He doesn't answer. They move to the cash register, and after he pays, they head back to the truck. Her eyes sting. She rips her hand from his and shakes her head, her voice breaking.

"I want to go back, daddy."

"You're not going back."

"I want to!"

He kneels in front of her, gripping her chin as her tears spill. A woman filling her car glances over, and he lowers his voice so only she can hear. "I know you're scared, but listen to me, Amelia. Remember that game we play? The one where the bad guys are after us, and we have to get away from them?"

She nods weakly, tears streaking down her face.

"What do we call each other when we play that game, baby?"

"Blue and Ghost," she answers, her voice small.

"Right. We’re playing it again, okay? But this time, it’s not a game. Right now, you’re Blue, and I’m Ghost. You listen to everything I say so I can keep you safe. Do you understand, Blue?"

She struggles to breathe.

"Tell me, do you understand?"

"Daddy, I—"

"No. Not daddy. Ghost."

"Ghost... please, I want to go home."

His voice repeats her new name, over and over, as he shakes her chin, and she cries harder. She looks over at the woman filling her car as she fades into something strange—milky eyes and grey skin—and when Blue looks back to her father, he’s gone. All that remains is the white plate, stained with red raspberry juice.

"Blue."

Blue lifts her gaze, her eyes locking on the old woman across from her. The woman's leathery skin shifts to grey in the pale moonlight streaming through the window. She chews a berry slowly, takes a sip of milk, then speaks. "Tell me. Why do you call yourself this?"

She struggles to pull her voice to the present, looking back at the plate and quietly answering after a moment, "It is... it is the name I've used to survive."

"You are a strong girl, that much is clear," Maman compliments idly. "But sometimes, God does not want us to fight. There is strength in acceptance."

When breakfast is finished, Eloise brushes her hair until it’s buttery soft down her back. Then, they leave. Blue smells the dew on the grass, her toes curling in her shoes to endure the pain of keeping up with them. No matter how lightly she spreads her weight, the wounds split wider, blood silently squishing beneath her soles. Any blood she left behind would be invisible in the dark, but Ghost always noticed things she never could. She picks at her fingernails as they reach a road, which reminds her of when they were walking through, seeing a few abandoned cars left at the sides.

They walk for some time until she smells the Greys. The rot is pungent in the brisk air. Then, she hears the low hum of hymns coming from a small building—a church. She only knows this because of a deep memory with the old woman she called grandmother who used to take her to one. The stained glass glows faintly with dim golden light inside. They approach the large door, and Blue stands outside it, her knees trembling, but her shoulders managing to stay upright.

Maman glances down at her, hand resting on the door. "In God's presence, Amelia, there is no need to survive anymore. You will accept his punishment—and his forgiveness. Tell me, do you understand?"

Blue grits her teeth.

The voice edges softer. "Do you understand, Amelia?"

"I understand."

Behind her, Eloise takes hold of her wrists and ties them together with what feels like prickly twine.

The door creaks open under Maman’s push, revealing rows of pews and cold stone walls. Blue swallows hard, tasting her own heartbeat in her throat as she takes in everything she can before stepping inside. The narrow aisle spills out into an altar, where the same two Greys they muzzled the other day are chained to the floor, their snarls and moans adding a discordant layer to the throaty hymns echoing from the right side of the church. There, the veiled women sit, their heads bowed. On the left, the men. A bony hand presses at her back, urging her forward. Through the fog of fear, she counts them: just three men, plus Pierre—the one from before—standing beside the leashed Greys.

The lingering scent of old blood mixes with the fresh, sharp tang of melting candlewax. Her footsteps are small, barely making a sound against the stone, and the pain seems to fade into nothingness, until she misteps around a scurrying rat. A sharp pang burns through her foot, forcing her teeth to grind. Tears well in her eyes, but she doesn’t let a single one fall, her focus locked on her surroundings. The flickering candles on the altar, the glint of Maman's knife as she unsheathes it, the flicker of hunger in the endless moans—each step draws her closer to the Greys.

When she finally stops, she stands between them, the chains and muzzles the only thing keeping their mouths from finding her flesh.

As Maman begins to murmur in French, a fleeting thought crosses her mind: Can her mother see her now, dressed in a beautiful gown, having grown into her features, even though the shape of her face still carries the strength of her father's? Can she see the fear she can no longer contain, spilling into violent breaths that tear through her chest?

"Venez vous nourrir de sa chair pure, et en retour, bénissez-nous avec plus de nourriture pour l'hiver et des bébés en bonne santé pour vos nouveaux peuples."

Beneath Maman's words, Blue hears something. A distant, piercing sound that reminds her of a gunshot.

Dad?

She glances at the door, then at the faces around her, but no one else seems to have heard it.

A cold hand snatches her arm, the unwounded one, and Blue whimpers. Then she is turned around to face the pews.

"Une coupure pour les faire festoyer!"

The knife draws a matching cut, the release of blood making the Greys jerk within their restraints.

A man stands and unlocks one Grey's chains, while Pierre handles the other. The screech of metal cuts through the air, and with a shout, the creatures are freed. Blue’s heart slams in her chest. Maman's low, cruel laugh reaches Blue's ears just as she drops to the ground and scrambles backward, bumping into the altar and making it rattle. She screams when rotten hands clamp around her ankles—instinct taking over. She wriggles free of her blood-soaked shoes and kicks them as far as possible toward the people in front of her.

The shoes hit the ground with a quiet squelch, and the Greys snap toward them, momentarily confused by their scent of blood. A veiled woman screams, her dress now stained with a red footprint, and the other women scramble for the door as the Greys hurl through the aisle. In that fleeting moment of distraction, Blue pushes herself up, hands shaking as she clutches the twine binding her wrists. She holds it over the candle, praying the small flame will burn through it.

"Come on, come on."

Just before the twine can snap, a hand yanks at her shoulder to spin her around.

"Stupid girl!"

Blue growls like a cornered animal and spits into Maman’s eyes. Sneering, Maman slashes the knife across Blue’s cheek, sending fresh blood down to her lips. The Greys, no longer distracted, screech as they again zero in on the scent of her bleeding wounds.

Through the pain, Blue strains with all her strength, forcing her wrists apart until the charred twine snaps, freeing her hands. Maman grabs her by the dress, but Blue blindly reaches for the only thing within reach—the candle—and jams the burning wick into the old woman's face.

"Fuck you!"

It is enough to make her writhe in pain, giving Blue the opening to snatch the knife from her hand. With a wrecked cry, she stabs the old woman’s throat, then kicks her in the stomach just as the Greys reach them. Maman’s mouth lets out a final gurgling, blood-soaked cry, and Blue watches, panting hard, as the Greys grab her and tear their teeth into her torn neck. 

"Maman!"

Pierre shouts, rushing over. 

Blue bolts away from them, her soaked feet nearly slipping. She shoves a screaming woman out of her way near the door and bursts outside into the breaking dawn. That's when she hears more gunshots, clearer in the open air, and spots a distant plume of smoke. Without hesitation, she runs in that direction.

T

The first round of gunfire kicks up dirt at your heels before you can even react. Ghost yanks you into a sprint, pulling you away from the shed. Men pour through the barn’s back door, giving chase. Somewhere in the chaos, you hear Price’s voice barking orders, his gunfire answering theirs—but there’s no time to look over your shoulder. Ghost grips your elbow and drags you behind an old tractor, shoving you into cover as bullets whizz through the air.

The others tumble beside you, Price forcing Nereida's head low behind the large tire. 

"There’s nowhere else to take cover," Kyle curses. He and Ghost peek over the tractor, firing off shots, but the sound of pounding boots grows closer. There are too many of them, and not enough time to stop their advance.

You swallow hard, heart pounding, and risk a quick glance around the tractor’s hood. The haystacks are right there, and you remember how dry they felt around your ankles when you covered the corpses. You grab Ghost by the wrist and pull your mouth to his ear so he can hear you.

"The hay is flammable—can you light it somehow?"

His jaw sets in understanding when your words register. He closes an eye and redirects his aim, instead firing rapidly at the base of one of the stacks. Stray sparks leap into the air, and for a moment, your stomach sinks when nothing happens. Then, the straw catches—one spark, then another, and the flames grow fast, swallowing vegetation along the ground. Thick, black smoke whips into the air.

"Il y a putain de feu!"

"Let's move!" Ghost shouts.

You're running again, using the distraction to your advantage, the veiled hood flying off your hair. The sudden silence in the gunfire gives you a moment to look around, and with a rush of terror, you realize that a sliver of sunlight has crept over the horizon. The sky above is no longer the pure black of night. 

"Simon, we have to get to her!"

"Where's the chapel?"

"I don't know! I-I need to see the road to find it."

The farm stretches out in every direction, the lack of light making it hard to see anything far off. You stop for a moment, trying to orient yourself. Maybe if you could just—

Another shot hits the ground, close enough to feel the heat on your toes. You barely catch a glimpse of the men still chasing you before a cloud of smoke bursts from the ground. It’s not from the fire he started—it’s a smoke bomb, just like the one they used to disorient you the first time.

The smoke stings your eyes and lungs. You clamp your mouth shut to avoid breathing it in.

"Drop to the ground!" Ghost growls in your ear, loud enough to hear over the gunfire you can only hope is coming from Kyle and Price. 

You obey, hitting the ground hard with his arm firm around your waist. He grips your dress, guiding you as you crawl through the smoke’s underbelly, where the air is clearer. Down here, you can see just enough to navigate forward, the blind gunfire whizzing harmlessly overhead. But as Ghost hauls you to your feet, a new panic grips you—you can no longer see the others.

"Where are they?" 

Through the tears in your eyes, you can't make out anything past the smoke at your backs. 

"Price can handle it. Come on."

For a brief second, you hesitate, torn between ensuring they’re alright and following him—but the encroaching sunrise makes the decision for you. There is nothing else you can do but keep running, hoping something will look familiar as you weave between nothing but stalks of wheat and the small homes. You’ve gained enough distance to escape their line of fire, and when you look back, the flames by the barn seem to have stopped swelling, but that is all you make out before something rams into your side.

"Femme pécheresse, regarde ce que tu as fait!"

The stray guard wrestles your body to the grass, a blade at your throat slicing a shallow welt into the skin, but he is ripped off you within seconds. Ghost breaks the man's neck, steals the pistol from his belt, then tosses it to you. He takes your free hand to help you up, and only as your finger smoothes over the trigger do you realize your other gun is gone.

He turns to keep moving, and part of you wants to sob in rage that you still don't know if you're even headed the right way. Then you see it—something in the grass. You grab his hand. "Look there. What is that?"

His gaze follows yours to the distinctive red stain embedded into the ground. Faint, but there. He leans down to touch it. "It's fresh."

"It could be hers, Simon," you urge.

He stalks forward, fingers hovering before pressing into a faint footprint. "It's her size. This way."

Blood smears lead you to the main road, and your chest tightens at the sight of the cars. This was the route through Fleurbaix. You recognize it. You scan both directions, spotting a white BMW in the distance—a flash of memory.

"I peed by that car. The chapel’s over there," you say, pointing to the stone roof barely visible ahead.

The sudden pierce of a scream confirms it.

B

Blue barely manages to get far before the sound of booted steps echoes behind her. She flits her head around in panic, ducking beneath the first car she sees and holding her breath. The distinct rustle of chains, accompanied by a snarl, unfurls her eyes. She glances up into the warped side mirror of another vehicle, catching sight of a cloaked figure. That man who'd helped Maman—Pierre—is looking around, one of the Greys in tow, its muzzle back on.

"Come out, petite fille. You cannot hide from a démon. Not when your smell is so strong."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she uses the sleeve of her dress to soundlessly wipe her bloody cheek as if that might help but pitifully realizes her feet and arm are even worse. The movement causes her bare foot to dig into a sharp rock, and she bites her tongue hard to keep from crying out. The footsteps halt, then switch directions.

When the Grey lunges toward the car, Blue leaps out and runs blindly, adrenaline pushing past the dizziness. Pierre shouts and follows, the Grey leading him, its draw to flesh tracking her even as she tries to weave behind the rose bushes. Spotting a tree, she glances over her shoulder one last time before hugging the narrow trunk and using all her strength to climb. What’s usually easy becomes a struggle as pain shoots up her legs when her feet try to find purchase on the bark. Her grip slips, and she falls hard onto her back.

Before she can lift to her elbows, a frothy mouth leaps in front of her face. She screams, writhing beneath the muzzled Grey, as Pierre hovers over her. "You could have earned God's grace, but instead, you killed her." Bitterness laces his voice. "Maman would want you dead, no matter what form the offering takes."

Blue tries scrambling backward, but a boot steps on her freshly cut wrist, twisting around and effectively pinning her. She chokes on a sob, fingers trembling in the dirt below her. The man reaches down to unscrew the muzzle, and in this moment she prays to whatever stupid god there might be, that Ari was right, that being eaten fully is better than the infection from a mere bite. 

She screws her eyes shut, bracing for the pain, but instead, her ears ring from a sharp sound. A weight crashes down on top of her, and when she opens her eyes, she wonders if she’s been drugged again. There, in her vision, is her father—his bare torso covered in blood and grime, his face contorted with rage as he shoves Pierre into the tree.

"Blue!"

It’s Twix. She shoves the Grey’s corpse off of Blue and scoops her into her arms. Blue freezes, unable to return the hug, her gaze fixed on her father as he rips a knife from his belt and stabs it into Pierre's hands, pinning them above his head to the bark. 

When Pierre tries to kick him, Ghost shoots both his knees. 

"Seigneur, s'il vous plaît, épargne-moi dans l'au-delà!"

The plea is choked off as Ghost rips the lower mandible free, the jagged bone tearing through flesh, leaving the tongue to flop uselessly, twitching and gasping for air. Twix's arms tighten around her, urging her to hide her eyes within her neck, but Blue keeps watching as Ghost snarls rabidly, finishing the kill by slamming the butt of his rifle into Pierre's skull, caving it in with a loud crack.

Only when he turns around, shoulders heaving, does she realize it’s truly him—and not a dream. He kneels on the ground, and Twix releases her into his chest, the solid feel of it absorbing the tremors that wrack through her limbs as she cries. Ghost cups the back of her hair, and despite the pained breath in his chest, he lifts her up, clutching her close. Her nose presses into his neck, struggling to breathe as she inhales the scent of him. 

"D-daddy," she croaks.

"It's me, it's me."

"I-I'm alive."

Something raw pushes through his teeth. "Fuck—you're okay, baby girl. I'm here. I've got you. I've got you." His fingers tighten against her scalp. "Hold tight to me. I won't let you go this time."

"Sal... My child." "You're a pain in the ass—" "The turtle dove sings for you." "The turtle dove sings for you!" "Come feed on her pure flesh, and in return, bless us with more food for the winter and healthy babies for your new people." "A cut to make them feast!" "There's a fucking fire!" "Sinful woman, look what you've done!" "Come out, little girl. You cannot hide from a demon. Not when your smell is so strong." "Lord, please spare me in the afterlife!"

[ilonii]

Bartender Sukuna Headcanons - R.S

Bartender Sukuna who hates his job but is so damn good at it. Every time he works the bar is packed!

Bartender Sukuna who is such a stereotype. A tall hot guy, with tattoos and tight black shirt walks into a bar and……no one is surprised. If you could imagine everyone’s hot, dream guy bartender, it’d be him.

Bartender Sukuna who loses points on the personality section. His drinks are great, but his chat is poor. He already isn’t much of a talker, which is why he didn’t expect to last so long in this job. But pear it with too many flirting girls, aggressive drunk guys and underaged kids tryna work a drink off him, he’s a total nightmare to be around.

Bartender Sukuna who you can totally trust with your cup. Drunk girls unknowingly leave their drinks unattended all the time, and Sukuna watches each and everyone of them. If another person, male or female even attempts to get close to your cup, he’s on top of it, instantly.

Bartender Sukuna who hates hookup culture, especially in bars. Drunk sex is so sloppy, and wet. It’s 10% sex and 90% delirious efforts to actually get there.

Bartender Sukuna who rarely ever entertains women. Let’s be honest, he’s a really hot guy, so it’s not uncommon that women approach, and try to take him home. Now while he does appreciate the ego boost, he refuses to entertain anyone he couldn’t possibly see a future with.

Bartender Sukuna who loses all this logic the second he meets you.

Bartender Sukuna, who has quite literally never seen someone so beautiful. You were so different. It was a unique vibe, something about the air around you. From the way you talked, to the slight twitch of your lip before you smiled, to your mannerisms, everything you did completely encapsulated him.

Bartender Sukuna who cannot function every time you enter the bar. It throws him off his game in more ways he’d care to admit. He’s spilling drinks, messing up orders, billing the wrong people. The whole thing is just a complete disaster and you’re to blame.

Bartender Sukuna who already hates your friends. He thinks you’re too good for them. They’re sloppy drunk, don’t pay much attention to you, and ditch you for random guys at the end of every night.

Bartender Sukuna who isn’t the least bit surprised when you stumble over to the bar with a sad look on your too pretty face.

“What’s got you so down in the slums”

 He can’t believe he’s actually talking to you.

“Nothing”

Okay, not giving him much to work with there.

“Then why are you pouting so hard. Keep it up and your face’ll get stuck that way”

You chuckle.

You’re laughing at his jokes? Just say the word and he’ll marry you right now.

“It’s my friends, they always ditch me at the end of the night”

What assholes.

“Let me think, this is the third time this week they’ve done that yeah?”

“Heyyy, how’d you know”

“I’m a bartender, its my job to know my customers”

“Well, you’re not wrong. It’s just frustrating because I’m happy that their finding people and all that but it’s every night, sometimes I just wanna get through the evening with just us you know”

“Well, if you ask me, you need new friends anyways”

“Well good thing I didn’t ask”

“Ooo feisty, I like it”

“Yeah whatever”

“Cmon you should smile more, you’re too pretty to be this sad”

“Ugh, do you use these lines every night? Try something else”

 Gosh, he’s never met a women so combative, he loves it.

“No that was actually a new one, I take it you aren’t a fan though”

“No not at all, but you’re cute so I think I’ll let it slide”

You think he’s cute? He’s totally got this in the bag.

“Well, for what it’s worth I think you’re pretty cute too”

Bartender Sukuna who spent the rest of his shift talking to you. He doesn’t think he’s ever said so much in his entire life. But the conversation just flowed, it was so natural.

Bartender Sukuna who’s ashamed of how quickly he offered to take you home. When it was finally time for you to depart, he was worried about you driving even though you had maybe one or two not very strong drinks. He was surprised to hear that it wouldn’t be a problem because you ubered here and intended to take one back. But what kind of man would he be if he didn’t at least offer to take you himself.

Bartender Sukuna who has absolutely no idea how he ended up in your bed with you beneath him.

Bartender Sukuna who has the best sex of his life that night.

Bartender Sukuna who before he falls asleep, with you in his arms, is already planning your first real date.

border by @plutism

[lovethyauthors]

OP I LOVE YOU

I’ll just be over here not thinking about how their hearts drop when reader says that and panic takes over. Definitely not thinking about how the confusion fades into heartbreak when reader refers to herself as a burden, and their minds are racing trying to figure out how she could possibly think that.

Not thinking about how Price was only used to reader calling him captain in a flirty way at home or on missions, always feeling grounded when she says it, and how wrong it feels now, hearing it dejected and pained and it’s his fault, it’s all his fault, he’s let his team down. Everything he’s done is to keep his team safe and this means he’s failed, spectacularly.

I’m also not thinking about ghost and how this makes him feel, growing up believing he wasn’t worthy of love but then she came into his life swinging, and knocked all his walls down, made him believe he was worthy! And good!! And deserving of the little family their team had become!!! And now feels his heart cracking at having it all ripped away from him, a persistent voice in his head taunting him, telling him he should’ve known it was too good to be true, telling him he didn’t deserve it, not after all the things he’s done.

And SOAP and Gaz who can’t stop thinking that they’ve known better, should’ve done more, when they smelled her sour scent, should’ve been more persistent when she slammed the door in their face. And now they’re losing her, they’re losing their family!

Don’t mind me, I’m not thinking about how delicious the angst will be when they try to explain that no she’s not a burden, they’ve been distant not because they don’t love her but because they’ve been so caught up dealing with a threat against her life, or whatever other reason they’ve been acting like assholes, and didn’t want to scare her. They’re not excluding her from the meetings because they don’t want her there, they’re just trying to protect her without scaring her.

I’m even more so not thinking about how long it’d take them to try to convince her they still love her, how much it’ll break their hearts that even after she forgives them, there’s still a piece of her heart that doubts them, because it’s not so easy to repair things you’ve carelessly broken. They’ll need to earn back her trust piece by piece and it’s like walking over hot coals to think that they’re the reason why she feels like this now, but by god they’ll do it like the good soldiers they are, nothing in their training has taught them to back down from a fight and they certainly won’t in the most important fight of their lives.

Yup, definitely not thinking of any of that at all, no thoughts, head empty. Excuse me while I go sob in a corner 😭😭

Hey friend. I've put off this ask a little while, because I'm sure you're tired of getting it by now, but... are there any updates on the neglected! reader (a/b/o)? I really liked that one, and though I have no issues with the second part not being done yet, a little progress update (if you want to add one) would be very cool! Thanks for writing :)

ugh i know i've been putting it off for a long time but i haven't abandoned it guys! just feeling very stuck with where the narrative is sitting rn 🥲 however, here's a little tease of the beginning of part two, keep in mind it may not be written exactly like this when i post it:

"what?" kyle mumbles, rising from john's lap to grapple with the sudden coldness that overcomes him. no one else says anything, but you can see how your words affect the rest of them: john stiffens in his seat, simon's dismissive glance has turned into a burning glare, and johnny's hand has slipped from where it was resting on his captain's shoulder, a look of confusion and panic twisting on his face.

your anxiety may have dissipated, but that doesn't make this any easier. the air feels too tense, too uncomfortable. you don't like how agitated everyone's scents became the moment you walked in, and it hurts even more knowing they didn't even try to hide it. you don't like seeing them all together here like this. you don't like that you're believing that spiteful little voice in the back of your mind jeering at you that they've been planning your departure, planning how to break the news to you that you're not worth the hassle anymore.

it only makes sense why they're all cooped up in john's office, whispering amongst themselves.

"darling, what are you talking about?" john's voice cuts through your thoughts, but you try not to find comfort in it. he stands from his seat, and you try not to reveal how much you've missed his scent despite how thick it is with stress. your omega has been quiet for a while, but now that you're gathered in one place like this, she's getting restless, simultaneously wanting to hiss at them and cling to anyone who will spare a scrap of affection.

"please, captain, just do it. i don't want to be a burden any longer." you'll beg if that's what it takes; you'll get on your knees and clasp your hands together if it means saving them from unnecessary stress and annoyance and you from further heartbreak.

the earnestness in your voice is so strong it bites at them because how could you even suggest something like that? how could they even consider their pack whole if you're not there?

but hearing his rank fall from your lips leaves a bitter taste in john's mouth and a knot forming in his stomach. it's unnatural to hear you call him that while sounding so defeated and miserable. it's scary to feel so out of control when he's supposed to be your captain, your head alpha.

to know he's let you down so much makes his alpha growl pathetically in shame; how can he even consider himself a leader?

[luckymousey]

Thoughts about Ace’s dreams (parts 249-256) (mostly things I liked)

⚠️English is not my first language and there will be SPOILERS if you haven't seen Ace's dream⚠️

THEY UPLOADED BOTH ACE AND TREY’S ENTIRE DREAMS, LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOO

Ehhhh, well, I was planning to also write about Trey’s dream, but I felt this was getting too long, so maybe the day after tomorrow I guess?

Warnings?: swearing and possible gramatical mistakes

Soooooo, we left it when Grim was shaking Ace like a soft drink, let’s start!

Ace telling them to stop pranking him is ironic considering he’s the one who pranks everyone everytime (I bet he once pranked Deuce by giving him a store bought egg and told him a chick would appear from it if he gave him enough warmth)

SEBEK STARTING TO EXPLAIN EVERYTHING TO ACE, I ALREADY LOVE HIM SO MUCH, I know he is just doing it for COMPLETELY different reasons, but yeah (tbh, I started loving him more when he admitted liking reading books, I’m also a bookworm :3)

And he’s so determined to fight Malleus, awww, he loves him, but he also knows that they can’t let Malleus’ negative emotions take over him.

The part where Ace asks Sebek if it’s something bad to live in a dream that you can be happy in, is like ( ; _ ; ), so fucking sad and selfish, he is like accepting the fact that it was not reality what he was living, but he was so fucking scared to accept reality itself and he really didn’t consider other people’s opinions (personally, I feel I would LOVE living my dream life, but I’m sure that with time, I would feel that everything around me is fake, beause my real friends wouldn’t be there, my real family would’ve be there, everything I love wouldn’t be there, and that would make feel me so miserable)

Ace saying that if Malleus is left alone in the real world because of his own fault reminds me a lot of the time he told Riddle that he had no friends because of himself, it might have sound cruel, but really, Malleus, my boy, what you’re doing is not good 😭 (and he’s, I do think that Ace’s comment to Malleus was also unnecessary, but let’s be realistic, they’re both doin wrong things)

For some reason, I feel Ace would be GREAT as a lawyer, maybe some rude comments about the other party, something that’s not tolerated in trials, yes, but he’s quick when it comes to biting back.

Ace not wanting to fight Malleus because he calls themselves “ordinary students”?? EXCUSE ME!? That’s not my Ace! My Ace fucking fought against his dorm leader knowing he was way weaker than him (I repeat, he’s so fucking scared of accepting the reality, like, we can see it thanks to these little things, the little changes in the character, he prefers to be a coward than to lose his friend 🥲)

I want to say this again, there are some parts and lines of Ace that reminds us of the Heartslabyul Arc (like when he said he won he listening to someone who looks down at others), but there’s a big difference: Ace was not scared to fight against Riddle, but he’s now scared to fight against Malleus, and yes, Malleus is one of the 5 best mages in the world, but this is not about the opponent, it’s about the fact that he will change his whole personality to get what he wants, in Heartslabyul Arc’s case: beating Riddle and becoming dorm leader (that was out of pure rage tho), in the Diasomnia Arc’s: hiding in his dream, because there, Yuu can stay with them forever.

ACE RAN, I KNOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRAMATIC EXIT, BUT I COULDN’T STOP IMAGINING HIM RUNNING LIKE AN ANIME CHARACTER WHO’S EMBARRASSED AND RUNNING AWAY WITH A VERY NOTICEABLE BLUSH ON THEIR FACE

Sebek not understanding Ace’s words and desire to stay in the dream is understandable for me, he had no friends before, and in this point of the story, he is still not very close to his classmates, so he doesn’t understand why a friend is so important for Ace (and Malleus is more like a person who he admires, but he idolizes him so much that I doubt he calls him “his friend”, while Lilia is seen as his master and Silver more like a competitor).

I don’t know if you noticed this, but I love imagining different scenarios when something happens, so when everyone was explaining to Sebek why Ace got angry and why it was (partly) his fault, I imagined them trying to explain something to a baby.

ORTHO ADMITTING HE WOULN’T BE AS WORRIED AS HE’S BECAUSE OF IDIA, HE’S THE BEST LITTLE BROTHER ONE CAN HAVE 🥹🥹🥹🥹

And Sebek realizing that Ortho is right, awwww, I can understand why some people hate him, he is constantly shouting and being kind of rude, but I see him like a kiddo who’s still learning.

I used to watch the episodes without sound because I usually watch them at night, but how that I got wireless headphones I can’t unheard the way they said “Cater Diamond”, they’re like, “KeiTO DaiAMonDo”, I know that's how they pronounce it, but I really can’t not laugh everytime I think about it.

Idia and Leona agreeing they’re just helping because they want revenge!?!? That’s so funny for me, they’re straight up insulting Malleus in front of Sebek.

And after that, the moment where Silver scolds Sebek arrives.

THAT'S RIGHT SILVER, YOU TELL HIM, YOU TELL HIM, SHOW HIM WHAT YOU LEARNT FROM YOUR HANDSOME FATHER, I LOVE YA SEBEK, BUT YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN

Honestly, the reason I'm so excited is because I’m trying to prepare myself for that part.

Silver LITERALLY rubbing on Sebek’s face the fact that he reacted like Ace when he told him everything was a dream is something I didn’t know I needed to hear, it was so satisfying. (I’m going to admit it, I just love people getting scolded because of something they did that was clearly bad)

“REFLECT ON YOUR ACTIONS!” Is something I feel Lilia usually said when he punished them as kids and then Silver learnt it (i bet all my money that Lilia constantly used that phrase when the kids didn’t want to eat his nutritious food)

Some of the characters being surprised by Sebek sudden lowering of tone is something that will always make me at least chuckle, it doesn’t matter if it’s in the manga, the game, the novel, fanfics, fanmade comics…; it’s just so fucking funny for me.

When Silver said it was better to have Ace as a friend so he can help the, in defeating Malleus sounded so bad, like he was already planning how to become Ace’s friend to use him (don’t hate on me, I know he didn’t intend to, but if you read that phrase without context, you will definitely think he’s a villain)

LEONA, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN WITH LEAVING ACE BEHIND BECAUSE HE WON'T BE OF MUCH HELP, ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME!? YOU DONT GET TO LEAVE MY BOY BEHIND.

AND YOU TOO, CATER!? YOU TOO!? I THOUGHT YOU WERE A GOOD SENPAI BECAUSE YOU PROTECTED DEUCE AND GRIM IN YOUR DREAM, FUCK THIS AND HE WANTS TO MESS UP WITH ACE, DONT, LEAVE MY BOY, WELL, DONT, DON'T LEAVE MY BOY, WAKE HIM UP

Deuce doing his delinquent pose when he got frustrated of thinking to much, hehehe, I love that pose

YESYESYES, DEUCE, GRIM, YUU, GO GET YOUR TSUNDERE-ORANGE-BOY

Ortho don’t worry about them, Yuu and Grimm have gone through 6 overblots together (I’m going to cry so fucking hard if Grim ends up over blotting because of all those fucking black stones he eats), and now they’re with the seventh one

Oh, damn, Cater should be an actor, I really thought he was going to leave Ace behind.

FORGET WHAT I SAID ABOUT YOU, CATER, I LOVE YA SO MUCH

Cater like a proud older brother 😭: “I’m happy Ace got such good friends”

Omg, Cater is so intelligent, by just having contact with ‘darkness’ once he already knows how it works (but he’s really putting the hand in the fire just for his junior, Trey is one of the most understood characters, but he’s also so underrated when it comes to his relationships)

Wait, wait, wait, I just thought about this, it might be something dumb, but it really just appeared in my mind: Cater doesn’t want to get very close to anyone because of his trauma of constantly having to move and, as a consequence, he has to cut off all his relationships done in the place: and now, he’s literally doing anything possible to save his friends (if he now can consider them as friends), I don’t know if he started to open up, but it would be so heartwarming to see 😭🥰

I love when the characters say: “eh?” Yes, buddy, eh, eh, eh 🦆

All the Caters saying: “Aye, Aye, sir!” It’s soooooooooooo peeeeerfect

“It might hurt a little, but be patient, Acey~” -KeiTO DaiAMonDo, 2025

NAURRR GIRL, THE SUDDEN FIRE!? That was too fast, both Riddle and Trey would be way more dissimulated if they were trying to discover if there’s really a fake Cater.

Leona said they weren’t going to help Cater because he didn’t ask for it, but I like to think he’s trusting him (I know that wasn’t the case, let me be delulu)

And Leona calling Cater “Heartslabyul’s number 3”??? THIS IS GOING STRAIGHT TO MY MAFIA AU

Riddle’s change of tone from rude and strict for Cater and sweet and kind for Ace!? 😂, yeah, that’s definitely not happening irl

“You can have a happy life here, blahblahbla” oh, shut up, I know you’re darkness, but shut up

Ok, Leona, I know you trust Cater and everything, but please, let Silver and the rest help him, he’s going to disappear with the darkness

*right in the other part of the island*: Cater saying how ugly everything looks, not giving a fuck about the danger he’s in 😃👍

ACE ADMITTING HIS INSECURITIES, NOOOOOOO, MY BOY, YOU'RE PERFECT THE WAY YOU ARE, YOU ALL WILL DEFEAT MALLEUS WITH THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP (or not)

Like, I don’t know how the hell the darkness manage to say the most contradictory things 🤣, Deuce would never say he’ll learn from Ace, over his dead body

Awww, Leona trying to break Idia’s tablet just because he asked if he was talking about himself (he was right)

HJKSJKHKHJHKJSHKJ, EVERYONE IS BEING SO ✨SLAY✨, SILVER SCOLDING SEBEK, CATER SMACKING ACE WITH THE TRUTH, WHAT'S NEXT!?!? TREY FINALLY GIVING MRS. ROSEHEARTS WHAT SHE DESERVES IN RIDDLE’S DREAM!?!?

“At that time, I couldn’t say anything properly…thank you.” “It’s too lame to only challenge those who you can win against!” “Cater-senpai…this is so unfair…isn’t it!?” “I only have to wake up, right!?” You heard that? That’s the sound of my hearts breaking, and the fact that he’s crying while trying to smile??? ANIPLEX, YANA TONOSO AND TWST, YOU BETTER PAY FOR THE REST OF MY THERAPY SESSIONS 😭😭😭😭😭

The fact that both Ace and Deuce’s last memory to wake up is their reunion in book 6 is so special, so tears-flooding-down-my-cheek reaction from me 🥹

ACE IS BACK MY PEOPLE, HE HAS FINALLY WOKEN UUUUUUP

Cater saying: “Leona, guys! Help us!” In such a princess and cheerful way, he would nail it in EAH’s Damsel in Distress class

Ace first words to his friends was literally about Deuce’s way of talking…that’s so him ✨🥹✨

Deuce and Grim hitting Ace, yes my people, those are my little stupid boys

And Cater’s excuse for using magic against Ace was literally: the ends DOES justify the means

And Ace telling Yuu that next time they wake him up it needs to be more gentle!? I don’t know if that was romantic or not, but Ace is definitely someone worthy to be Malleus’ love rival; he was the only one who directly dreamed with Yuu!

My first reaction when Ace reminded Leona of what he did at the Magift Tournament was: “don’t talk to me or my man like that again”

“I wasn’t crying! And you all came running to me looking pretty happy!”…OF COURSE WE WOULD BE HAPPY, YOU DUMBASS, OHANA MEANS FAMILY AND FAMILY MEANS NO ONE IS LEFT BEHIND

And then Cater takes a photo of Yuu, Adeuce and Grim to celebrate they’re back together, yessssss

For the third time, Ace’s lines are like a reflection of what he said in the Heartslabyul Arc: he told Trey it was his fault Riddle became like that, because he constant spoiled him; and now, bam, he tells Silver he and Lilia pamper him too much

As usual, Ortho snitches on everyone because he is a pure angel who doesn’t want to get bitches, so he tells the truth about Sebek 😈, let’s go, Ortho, you’re doing great, who will be your next victim?

Near to the end of his dream, Cater uses the good old one: if you bother us too much, I’ll tell Riddle😈

“Red demon”!? HAHAHAH, LEONA KNOWS ABOUT NICKNAMES, LET LEONA GIVE YOU A NEW NAME TO YALL

Then we’ve Idia: “Actually 🤓, we’ve to visit the red demon, BUT, I plan to wake his best pacifier.” (Man, Idia is just slaying with anything he’s saying)

ADEUCE STUTTERING AND THEN SHOUTING LIKE MAGICAL GIRLS TO CHANGE CLOTHES IS MY TOP 1 FAV MOMENT IN THE WHOLE DREAM

And, of course, Idia’s new line: “This is! The fresh scream filled with torture feels so good!”

(Unpopular opinion: Cater should’ve been filming the WHOLE time)

Another mirror-reflection-scene: Ace wanted to make Malleus apologize, just like in the Heartslabyul Arc with Riddle.

And last but not least, Ortho snitched on Sebek for the SECOND time, that smirk of his, he knows what he’s doing, that boy, that boy is so dangerously intelligent.

And in the end, we didn't get Ace's brother's face reveal 🥹

I'm going to do a satanic ritual

This is the end of my opinions on Ace’s dream, hope you enjoyed it!

[russilton]

hii mark! can i ask some rb au angst if you feel like it? just love to read anything you write or plain to write about those two if you feel like it!!

Whoops-sorry it appears your ask got lost in the mail (I didn’t know how to answer it for two years, it’s embarrassing how low this sits in my drafts)

Red bull au masterpost

Honestly the weird thing about taking so criminally long to work on this au, is that the real life RBR have fed me more fodder in how they have fucked over their second drivers than I ever could imagine on my own- I felt indulgent and ridiculous writing the original timeline, but honestly all that’s been proven is the real fictional part of George’s arc is not the abuse he receives- it’s that he fights back at all.

I think the best point for angst I’ve never really delved into is the hinge point for when Red Bull snaps and decides they need to reign George in, and that falls dead in the middle of the year long timeline, in Hungary.

Hungary comes directly after Silverstone, which was not exactly a fun time for Red Bull George. It’s supposed to be his home race, he’s finally in a top team, George is absolutely inflated under his own ego, the fact he’s getting fucked by his idol every other week, and he’s got two wins under his belt in his first half a year in a new team go a long way to that. He’s finally proving everything he’s ever told everyone he would be- he’s competing with the best the sport has seen, he’s not fumbling the seat like everyone said he would because he was too soft on Alex, he’s not playing second fiddle to Max like everyone. Told. Him. Or at least that’s how he feels after France and his wins (3 races prior to Silverstone)

Then comes Styria, George is high on his wins, so he doesn’t get mad immediately when Red Bull quite clearly hand Max a favoured strategy and George loses the chance at an undercut. It’s fine, it’s his teammate, they’re closer to Max’s home than his. He bites his tongue, you can’t win them all, he’s still a step above Lewis on the podium even if second feels acrid.

Immediately following Styria is the Austrian GP, same track, same team “home” race, they’re being compelled to impress. In strategy meetings the team keeps mentioning that Max needs wins. George tries not to let it annoy him they seem to be forgetting he’s just as up for the WDC as Max is. When he makes that comment, as casually as he can, someone laughs, Max rolls his eyes. They don’t address it. George feels like he’s missing a joke nobody told him about.

Qualifying rolls around, conditions and timing aren’t quite coming their way as normal, it’s different at a track everyone got to practice a week prior. None of that prepares him for his engineer instructing him on his final fuel up in the garage to tow Max for a final lap. George doesn’t need to do his usual mental math to know he won’t get to set his own competitive lap time doing that. He tries to argue but there’s no time and he’s shut down immediately. Team Orders, Max has seniority, you’ll make places in the race. George ever the competitive fuck does it, but he’s mad about it, livid. When he’s interviewed after Max gets pole, he’s tight lipped other than the necessary mention that team work is important, he’s sure Max will get him back.

Lewis bends him over a table and mocks him about it, about being someone else’s bitch for once. George revels in the chance to push back and assert his own power when, if he thinks about it… he’s really not feeling that powerful, mostly duped. He thinks about it when he misses out on the podium bc the redbull ring is a shit track to overtake at, and the team don’t seem to care to console him whatsoever. Max won, cheer up, it’s what the team needs (George feels like some of them sure didn’t look as happy when he won in France)

Silverstone rocks up next, George pushes it to the back of his head. The Ring is the teams home race, even if they’re based in Milton Keynes, Silverstone is GEORGES home race, it’s supposed to be where he gets to shine. He gets some interviews with Lewis and Lando to parade that patriotism around a bit, he doesn’t care for Lando, but Lewis seems bouyed as much by the home crowd as he is, he laughs easier and some of that antagonism fades a bit as Lewis sees him more as a parallel than a rival. Then comes getting in the car and it all goes down hill from there.

There’s changes to his set up, things that might suit Max but not him, it makes it harder to case out the track when he’s fighting Max’s driving style in his own car balance. In qualifying they make him tow. Again. George is practically apoplectic, but he qualifies well enough to grit his teeth and bare it, he’ll still be near the front, he can fight for a podium at home. His parents aren’t in the garage, something about not wanting to distract him, George can’t tell if that worked at all. Lewis gives him a nod though in parc ferme and George can chase away the burning wrong a little further.

But the race is a nightmare. Max and Lewis collide, Max hits the wall. George privately thinks that Max was an idiot for thinking Lewis wouldn’t fight extra hard at home, he would have done it too, but then he’s focused on winning. If he pushes hard enough, maybe he can fight Lewis for it, wouldn’t that be all he wanted.

George doesn’t get what he wants in this story.

They fuck his pit stop, it’s late called and George has to practically demand it down the radio, his team insisting on holding out to interrupt Hamilton and his penalty. George doesn’t understand it in the wash of adrenaline and what that matters more than his own progress. By the time George gets out on track he barely gets any time to fight Lewis at all as Lewis cruises by on well seasoned tires. His engineer sounds angry he didn’t hold Lewis up more despite George knowing attempting that on cold tires would have been a death wish for them both.

He makes good places, he’s got third almost in the bag at the end of the race when the team pulls him in. He doesn’t get it, he argues till they tell him to get in and get his soft tires to run for fastest lap, without room for argument. George gives up places at home, where it mattered most, because Redbull wanted to do anything and everything to take points from Lewis, even if it meant George losing his own in the process. George can barely understand it through the haze of anger and frustration, especially in debrief when all anyone will talk about is lodging an appeal against Lewis.

When Lewis fucks him that night, winner of Silverstone once again, he asks George why he defends a team that don’t seem to give a shit about him. George storms out, but he doesn’t stop thinking about it in the weeks break. It eats at him, the fact Red Bull would rather he lose if Lewis lost a point, than see George on a podium.

On comes Hungary. The culmination of multiple races of frustration bubbling up in George, rolled in with Lewis being less than kind and tactful but maybe too truthful in their secret meetings. George is a tapped powder keg, Redbull strategy barely notices him, convinced Max will win and all their planning that will provide that. But, low and behold, in the race, George’s leading Lewis whose leading Max

George knows he can’t win realistically, part of his car nose is broken, his tires are old, but he’s trying. Red Bull don’t care through, as they tell him to hold up Lewis so Max can catch up and take the lead. They tell him to hold the line just to give it to max again.

George snaps. And in an act of utter lack of self preservation he lets Lewis by, barely fighting beyond appearances, hands it to Lewis on a silver platter. As the team are sighing and chalking it up to a fuck up they have no faith in him from preventing Lewis, to prove them wrong, George proceeeds to deliberately fight Max and block him from passing. He defies team orders (they’re in the final handful of laps preventing a drawn out Lando Oscar debacle), and proceeds to hold the line all the way up to the checkered flag.

The post race podium is something to behold, Lewis doesn’t understand what just happened, he knows George let him by, he knows George’s driving style by now and he, if he admitted it to himself, enjoys the fighting with him. George is clean and feisty, but this wasn’t that, and Lewis is frankly a little mad to be deprived of it, and because he can’t stand being handed things.

Meanwhile Max is fuming and about ready to punch George in the face, there had already been a ice cold confrontation in parc ferme, the redbull mechanics in the pit lane clap for Max and shake his shoulder, they stare down George and the slaps on his back are for the cameras and hard enough they hurt a bit. George remains defiant through it all, set jaw and arched brows that demand well, I’ve played my hand, the fuck are you going to do about it.

After the interviews and press, Lewis tries to find George. He’s fuming, ready to blow off some steam, itching to engage in their usual fights that lead to something rushed in a bathroom or at least some kind of heated make out. He wants to know why George gave him the win, if it was some kind of pity move or ego play, he wants answers, but as he finally catches sight of George, he’s being frog marched through the paddock flanked by annoyed looking redbull engineers, a red faced Horner and a downright murderous looking Marko. They’d clearly all hung around to see George’s media interviews, if he’d explained himself. Lewis doesn’t think they liked the answers they got

Lewis has to drop the bone there, he’s been in his own angry debriefs, George won’t be free any time soon and everyone is itching to wrap for the summer break so they can all get some rest from the first half of the season. He settles for taking a wanky photo of the trophy and posting it to his instagram with a caption that has him maybe hoping it’ll bait George into texting him so they can do something in the break. Lewis doesn’t exactly want to think about WHY he wants to see the annoying twink he fucks in his free time.

George doesn’t respond. In fact, Nobody sees hide nor hair of him for the entire summer break.

[love-hope-faith-feels-like-a-lie]

All I have going for me is work and the amazing people I work with, and if that goes away I’m actually just going to rot in my room and no one can say shit. I’m tired of this year dishing out crap when I’m trying so hard to live.

[jankwritten]

I will never be normal about Ox and Gordo’s relationship actually. Thinking about them makes me insane. Like imagine being abandoned by everyone you love everyone all at once they’re all dead or gone across the country or fucking banished to prison and they left you alone, ON PURPOSE, and you can’t do a damn thing about it because if you leave you abandon your home, their home, you lise what feels people you have left and is it even worth it when they left you so easily and

There’s a little kid hiding behind his fathers knees and he’s never had root beer and you watch him grow into this intense strange boy who doesn’t understand that his father isn’t coming home his father left him and god don’t you know how that feels and you watch him learn his way around a car and you remember the man who taught you who gave you a chance who listened when you said what was wrong and

He needs a job and you’re the only one who cares so you help, god, of course you help, you can’t let him or his mom lose what little they have left so you let him work for you under the table, he doesn’t need to but he demands it even though you paid off their debt as soon as he asked. It’s the money of those fuckers who abandoned you, anyway, and Ox needs it Ox and Maggie need it and

He’s everything to you he’s your son your brother your life and he’s fifteen and he’s your fucking tether, he keeps you human, and you think finally, finally you’re healing. You both had shit dads who dealt you shit cards but you’ve got each other and you don’t need anyone else and

Then they come back and it’s not for you. They come back and they don’t even speak to you.

But they speak to him. To Ox.

They need him. Just like they needed you when you were barely a teenager when your father leveled that town when he killed your mom when you had to become their witch because the pack needed it your Alpha needed it because Thomas-

But Ox chooses them, over and over. You try to make him understand that they’ll only use him and hurt him and he doesn’t care. He chooses them. The damned wolves.

Imagine the man you loved hated needed despised dies and his son makes every imaginable mistake and you follow him because he is your Alpha he needs you and you leave. You leave Ox behind and you hate yourself every day, for three years, you know how this feels you know exactly how this feels and it’s bitter in your throat because you hate him him Mark him for this choice you’ve just made and you understand and you hate it and it’s vicious and you can’t forgive him so how can you forgive yourself and

You come home and he’s not a boy anymore he’s not a kid but a man and he’s tall and strong and he’s the Alpha, somehow, and he doesn’t need you anymore.

But he forgives you. Easier than you’ve ever forgiven anyone in your life, he forgives you because he loves you and you love him and you came home.

[toasted-valentine]

@pyrotechnicarus was right, that tv can fucking glow.

[quietwingsinthesky]

the amount of time i spend thinking about Even carrying the metacrisis doctor’s fob watch is really quite disproportionate to how much ive fleshed out that part of the story in my head

[soft-serve-soymilk]

More random head children musings (aside from the really sad one because that deserves better than a throwaway post):

Honestly I think it’s very fortunate that Dism’s team isn’t *entirely* comprised of lucid dreamers.

[qrovidcore]

man the thing about doing the temple of bhaal first is that durge is speaking from experience huh

[cocainecowgrrl]

womp womp

[bashirenthusiast]

.

[maskedbyghost]

part 1 <- the one where simon lost his memories and thinks you're his wife.

simon’s memory starts to return in bits and pieces, little flashes that remind him of things he’s supposed to know—names, missions, places he’s been. and then, of course, he remembers you, remembers everything. but he doesn’t say a word, choosing to stay in this pretend world where you’re his “wife.” he wants to see if maybe, just maybe, you feel something for him, too.

he starts dropping hints, little comments that feel loaded, even if they’re wrapped up in that casual charm of his. “you know,” he murmurs one day, lacing his fingers with yours, “feels good having you around like this. can’t imagine it any other way.” his eyes linger, studying your reaction, waiting for some sign that this means something to you, too.

and maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he notices the way you blush, the way your smile falters for just a second before you look away, pretending not to be affected. he’s careful not to push too hard, but every touch, every affectionate “love” or “darlin’” feels like it holds a question.

the team starts noticing, too—price gives him a knowing look now and then, and johnny’s started making teasing comments, nudging you whenever simon’s not looking. it’s like everyone else knows this isn’t just an act anymore.

one evening, as you’re on a quiet walk outside, he turns to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “what would you say if i told you i remember everything?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

you freeze, processing his words, your heart pounding. “everything?”

he nods, looking a little nervous for the first time since this whole charade began. “i remembered a while ago,” he admits, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “but i didn’t say anything… i wanted to see if maybe you… wanted this, too.”

you stare at him, a mixture of shock and something that feels dangerously close to hope. “why didn’t you say something?”

he shrugs, looking down with a small, shy smile. “guess i wanted to keep this feeling going a little longer. being close to you, having a reason to call you mine, even if it was all pretend… i didn’t want to lose that.”

your heart aches at his words, the quiet vulnerability in them.

“you know,” you say softly, finally daring to reach out, resting a hand against his cheek, “it doesn’t have to be pretend.”

his eyes light up, his hand coming up to cover yours, holding it there as if grounding himself in this moment. “you mean that, love?”

“i do,” you whisper, smiling. “i think i have for a long time.”

and just like that, he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that feels like it’s been waiting forever. when you finally pull back, he’s smiling, his forehead resting against yours.

“guess that makes this official, then,” he murmurs, his voice full of warmth.

“yeah,” you say, unable to stop smiling, “i think it does.”

-------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic

[moonstruckme]

hi my love i’m obsessed with all your works and this is my first request!

poly! marauders and cuteness aggression. like maybe reader coming home a bit tipsy from girls night and just seeing her boys and losing it. grabbing remus’ face and just kissing all over his cheeks, gnawing on james’ biceps and playing with sirius’ hair or tracing his tattoos.

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!

cw: alcohol

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 589 words

You leave a trail of things down the hallway that you swear you’ll pick up in the morning. Your bag, both shoes, your jacket. There’s no time to put any of it in its proper place, not when you know your boyfriends are all cozy and waiting for you in your bed. Everything else is secondary. 

The moment you get your eyes on them, it’s already too much. Remus is reading while Sirius chats to a nearly-asleep James, and you don’t know whether to scream or hug them or burst into tears. One feels more socially acceptable than the rest. 

A grin spreads over Sirius’ face as you crawl clumsily up the bed, so you go to him first. 

“Hi, baby.” You smear a kiss over his lips, burrowing your hands in his lovely, silken hair. It smells like his conditioner, smokey and heady and just slightly sweet. You wish you could snort it up into your nose like a drug. 

“Hi, baby,” Sirius says back at you, amused. “Did you have a good night?” 

“No,” you lament, though you think you might have enjoyed it at the time. 

Impulsively, you move to Remus, clambering across James to get on your quietest boyfriend’s lap. He’s already set down his book, so there are no barriers to your whims as you take his face between both hands, squishing his cheeks up and kissing them all over. You think you can hear the other boys laughing somewhere beyond your lovesick haze. Remus’ skin grows warmer with each ardent press of your lips. 

“None of you were there,” you go on. It’s impossible to articulate the full extent of this injustice. “You were here, being so lovely and perfect and lovely without me.” 

“That’s lovely twice.” Remus seems to recover somewhat from your surprise attack. His hand comes to rest in the middle of your back, a touch just for touch’s sake. “How much have you had, dove?” 

You make a petulant, whiny sound, burying your face in his neck. There will never be enough of them, your lovely boyfriends. Or maybe it’s that they’re enough, but you just can’t get enough. Regardless. You’re doomed to remain just on the brink of satisfaction. 

“Enough to know that I missed you a lot,” you say pitifully. 

“Awe, babydoll.” James’ laughter is at odds with his compassionate tone. “Come here, m’love.” 

This sounds like a grand idea to you. You wish they’d simply all squish together so you could lay your affections on them one by one, in rounds. 

James puckers his lips as you approach, readying for a kiss, and so is taken entirely aback when you forgo his face entirely. 

“Oh, well,” he says as you suck a hickey on his bicep. “I feel properly objectified.” 

You’re too pleased with yourself to be sorry. He flexes playfully, eliciting a string of giggles from you as you latch on tighter. 

“Do you think she’s been drugged?” you hear Remus ask. 

“Dunno.” James’ tone is fond. His big hand lands on the back of your head. 

“No, I sort of get it,” says Sirius. The mattress dips slightly, and then you feel him plant a wet kiss on your shoulder. “You just need to get it out of your system, yeah, sweetness?” 

You hum in affirmation. You wrap your arms around James’ middle, squeezing tight. 

“I love you so much,” you mumble into his skin. “I’m gonna kill you.” 

Your boyfriend’s frame rumbles with laughter. “Okay, lovie,” he says indulgently. “You go right ahead.”

[fastandcarlos]

"She's In Labour...Now?" : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: it wasn't supposed to happen yet, especially with max preparing for a race...

Your body froze, hand coming down to the side of your bump as yet again you felt a stab of pain against your side, struggling to keep yourself balanced. A heavy breath came from you as Sophie’s eyes glanced to your side, immediately moving closer to you. 

Your eyes shut in horror as another twang of pain arrived, leaning against anything that you could find to try and support yourself. Sophie’s hand landed on your back as she watched you, her eyes full of concern. 

“Everything alright?” She asked, although she already knew the answer to the question. “You don’t think you’re going into labour...do you?” 

Your shoulders shrugged, feeling your heart begin to race. “I don’t know, I hope not, Max is about to race any second and I need to be there to watch him.” 

Sophie’s head shook as you spoke, knowing that Max didn’t need to be your priority right now. Before you could argue she had a member of Max’s team rushing around the garage to try and find you, not giving you the chance to protest and assure her that you were fine. 

In a matter of moments Max’s figure came sprinting through the garage, his eyes searching for you. Sophie waved over to him, standing to one side as soon as Max arrived at your side, his arm moving around you to try and support you. 

“Is it happening?” Max nervously asked, looking between you and his mum. 

Just like his Mum, Max didn’t need an answer, already being able to tell for himself. As you went through another stab of pain you grabbed on tightly to Max, letting go of a groan. Max quickly moved to hold you tighter, keeping you against his chest. 

“It’s alright,” he whispered, kissing against the top of your head. “I’m right here with you, I’m not going anywhere,” he added, feeling your eyes glance up at him. 

Your head shook as you tried to step away from Max, but he was far too strong. He kept his hold despite how hard you tried to wriggle out, quickly remembering where you were and what he was supposed to be doing. 

“You can’t be here,” you murmured, “you need to be getting ready to race, you’re on pole, you can’t lose such valuable points Max.” 

“Do you really think I’d leave you right now, like this?” He asked you. 

You immediately felt guilty as Max asked a member of the team to come over, informing them to pass onto Christian that the reserve driver would need to step in for the race. 

“The team aren’t going to be happy,” one of the PR team told him in reply, scratching over the top of their head, “but I guess given the circumstances they’re just going to have to deal with it. We’ll put out a statement and tell everyone that you’re feeling unwell as the reason you’re not there.” 

You looked to Max once more, eyes pleading with him. “We don’t know for sure whether I’m in labour yet, why don’t you at least race? It’s only a couple of hours, I’ll be alright.” 

He didn’t even bother listening to you, his mind was well and truly made up and you wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise. Max didn’t want to miss a thing, and he certainly didn’t want to not be by your side whilst you were in pain too, regardless of whether you were in labour or not. 

Everyone else went to carry on prepping for the race, with you and Max left alone after his mum told you that she’d head off to go and get your things. “I’m not willing to risk anything,” Max whispered, holding onto you as you began to walk over to the car park. “We’re going to the hospital whether you like it or not, I’d rather be safe than sorry.” 

You smiled weakly across at Max; his eyes filled with concern. “I’m not due for another three weeks Max, let’s just wait and see how the next hour goes, it might be nothing.” 

“But it could be something,” he corrected, still full of worry. Max was proven to be right as after taking a couple of steps you felt a pain that you couldn’t describe course over your bump, leaving you doubled over, biting down on your bottom lip to stop yourself screaming. 

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, relying on Max to keep you from falling. Your eyes screwed tightly shut, breathing as well as you could to try and ride out the pain. It took a few moments, but just as it passed, another stabbing pain hit your bump. 

Call it father’s instincts, but Max knew in that moment what was happening. He called for his car to be brought over as soon as it could be, wrapping his arms around you so that he could carry you, doing anything that he could to make life a little easier for you. 

Your arms wrapped around Max’s neck, allowing him to scoop you up. “Turns out, you might’ve been right,” you joked, feeling Max’s eyes glance down at you, as if he knew all along. 

“It’s not about being right or wrong, it’s about getting you to hospital now.” 

The car barely stopped before Max opened the passenger door and sat you in, buckling your belt. The valet passed him the keys as his mum arrived, passing your bags over to Max before shouting that she’d catch you up. Max quickly climbed into the car, putting his foot on the accelerator as fast as he could. 

“Turns out I’m in a different race now, the race with all this traffic.” 

“I’d like to get to the hospital in one piece,” you laughed, struggling to get yourself comfortable in your seat as Max drove as quickly as he could, weaving around the cars on the road that were queueing to get into the paddock and see the race, “and I think our child would also vouch for that too.” 

“I’m not driving like a maniac,” Max told you, but even he was a little doubtful. “Well, maybe I am a tad, but I think I can be forgiven considering the circumstances.” 

His eyes were only half on the road, with Max watching over to you too every time a contraction greeted you. Each one made his heart race, filled with him with nerves as you assured him that you were alright, even though you were far from it. 

It wasn’t exactly how you planned your day, ready to sit and relax whilst watching Max, struggling to believe what was about to happen. 

“I'm so proud of you,” Max whispered as he noticed you staring out of the window. "I don’t quite know what’s about to happen, and if I’m honest, I’m terrified, but one thing I know is that I’m going to be so in awe of you.” 

You smiled weakly back across at Max, “however scared you’re feeling right now, double it and you might feel as scared as I do. But the one thing that I know is that you’re there for me, so that means I’m going to be alright.” 

“I won’t let anything bad happen,” Max promised you, matching your smile. “I’m not going to leave you alone for a second, no matter what it takes.” 

Neither of you quite knew how the next few hours were going to unfold, but as a team, you knew you were going to be alright. The race was soon forgotten as the two of you looked to the future and the thrill of knowing that your first meeting with your daughter was right around the corner. 

“Can you believe we’re about to be parents?” Max smiled across at you. 

“I don’t think it’ll ever truly sink in.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗