#I don't trust ANYONE in this or ANYTHING I see

[brandthefish]

EEEEEEEE This is so rad! I plan on doing this with all my Tavs, starting with Wren! (Tiefling Rogue)

General

Wren can be recruited under a piece of rubble from the crash, somewhere near Astarion.

Shadowheart: "That tiefling seems awfully suspicious. It's rather strange to see someone with that many daggers and in that attire," Astarion: "I must say, our latest aquisition is absolutely delightful. I do love finding like-skilled individuals," Karlach: "Normally I'd tell you to be careful around a rogue, but Wren seems alright! They're the dash, I'm the smash!" Gale: "I have high hopes for our new friend. Hopefully their wits are as sharp as their knives." Lae'zel: "I am torn. On one hand, the purple one seems competent at the least. On the other, hiding in the shadows to make a kill? Cowardly." Wyll: "Keep an eye on that tiefling. They have a look about them I know all too well," (If pressed) "Let's just say that from my time in Baldur's Gate I've met a fair few 'friends' from the Thieves Guild,"

They have a BIG reaction when meeting Astarion. They're a bit cagey and comment about knowing him. Other than that, they act pretty gay around Karlach and are definitely displeased at Wyll's actions. (When they find out Wyll is the grand duke's son, they make a comment about almost carrying out a hit on him before he left Baldur's Gate)

Raise in Approval: Mischief and strange acts of kindness. Necessary violence, like after you've tried to talk out of it. Lower in Approval: Anything excessively horny (Ace moment) or letting someone who is clearly a problem or a bad person live (+8 points for killing Gandrel w Astarion)

They'll permanently leave the party if you come on explicitly sexually. (Agian, Ace moment) They'd give Tav one chance to apologize, and if they don't, Wren's out.

Them being a member of the Thieves Guild in Baldur's Gate. This would come up after finding the Zentarim hideout in Act 1 and more references would pop up after that.

Their personal quest involves them leaving the Thieves Guild and becoming a better person more in touch with their emotions like guilt, remorse and affection. Also letting their guard down. A branching path could be re-joining. You would have more allies among the city and to get in fights (such as another rogue, a drow named Soren) but Wren is back in the guild, and not loving it. They wouldn't be at the epilogue in this branch, called away to a job in Neverwinter.

Stay: "Fine. Not as fun to just sit here. I'll just... sharpen my knives I suppose... or read a book," Leave: "Hells yeah! Let me get my gear," (Because whenever they have the chance, they take off their armor, it ain't comfy)

The shtick with Wyll about almost killing him, and they explain why they didn't. (Change in Thieves Guild management, and their own moral compass) Once the player knows Wren is a member of the thieves guild, Wyll confronts them about it. "Why should we let an assasin stay? How heartless do you have to be to end lives for money?" "Says the man who nearly ended Karlach's life for a devil, oh virtuous Blade of Frontiers. For what it's worth, Wyll I'm not a complete monster." "Aren't you? Please elaborate." "When I was seventeen I refused to carry out a hit. On Ulder Ravenguard's son."

Yes! The Thieves Guild Master (in my fics, that's a human woman named Lorenna, but that role would be replaced with whoever the canon Guild Master is) and another thief named Soren, who's basically their chosen brother. (He's who their dream guardian is based on)

After killing the goblin in the tiefling camp. "Shame... could've prodded the old girl for information. Now there's blood to clean up," After meeting Alfira "humming The Weeping Dawn with their eyes closed before answering you,"

Story Specific

"If something's sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Nothing good ever came to anyone from blind trust."

"Absolutely not. I'd sooner let the bard pluck my eye out, then sell what's left of my soul to a devil. And a right cad of a devil at that."

"Glad he's in the open about it now. But if we can't get him bodies to drink from, he may need com- help hunting in the woods at night,"

"*groan* Gross. I mean, more power to you if you like it but... *shudders*,"

"Oh gods, you're actually doing it. I'll um... I'm going to go sharpen my blades... and poison them," (generally afraid)

They will leave if the player kills the tieflings. "They were good people. They didn't deserve that. I... If that's how you're willing to treat innocent civilians, who's to say how you'll treat us? (If the player knows they're with the Guild) Would you turn me over to The Guild for a high bounty if you were low on gold? Or Astarion to Cazador? Or Karlach to Zariel? Wyll to Mizora?"

Singing along and dancing to Alfira's songs!

"Have fun, I'm going to partaking in the wine, the music, then getting some rest. Don't have too much fun though, we still need to be able to function in the morning ;),"

"WHAT THE HELLS?! NO. THIS IS NOT SOMETHING YOU GET TO APOLOGIZE FOR I- *groans in agony* ... leave me for a moment, if you will,"

"Oh- well let's hope it wasn't venomous, or we're about to have much bigger problems than a foul taste,"

"Alright, fine. Perhaps I'll get used to being on a stage,"

Nah. I think even Orin would be a little wary of them. They're equally stabby, Wren is just aimed differently. And ima be honest, I haven't gotten far enough in my Durge run to know what that is.

Non-Ascended "I'm proud of Astarion. He was able to turn away the power, even knowing how safe it would've made him... He's a good lad." Ascended. "Let's hope he doesn't get too mad with power... I'm already seeing him change and it's scaring me. Let's hope I don't need to get The Guild involved,"

"Gods, I... I hope it was worth it," Narrator: There's more wariness in Wren than you've seen before. They're frightened of you. If they're romanced it adds. "I... I can try to get used to this, as long as all my um... as long as I'm still being listened to,"

"Then make it productive. Focus the urges on the goblins and their leaders. The urges are your arrows, and you are the bow."

They're investigating it crime-scene style, knelt over her body. "Gods... it's not a clean assasination either. Slashes and stabs long after she'd died," they close her eyes. "This was a crime of passion... almost animalistic. And the spatters... was this you?"

"Well... it's a bit sick to say I'm flattered." They hold down Durge and pour wine down their throat that's laced with something to numb them and put them to sleep. After they come to they ask if durge is alright. They just have a few scratches, they're fine. "I will get you through this. My blade and my heart are yours, I swear it."

Romance

Yes they are romanceable! They're a romantic asexual. The player would need to not give them back to the guild or their romance stops immediately. They feel too betrayed.

They do need to be flirted with.

They are technically a poly option. They're ace so they're okay with the player getting their needs satisfied by someone else. "I... I am not in a place to be picky about that, I think,"

You can dance with them at the tiefling party to music played and after share a bottle of wine and cuddle. (Shown to just be cuddling by both of them still having clothes on)

Just the one romance path.

Breaking up: "I... It was good while it lasted. I understand though." Choosing them over someone else: "Oh um... are you sure? I mean, I'm not blind to my looks or anything but... I'm not interested in... carnal delights, like your other flame is,"

"What is Wren's greatest fear?" Answer: Being controlled. "What is Wren's dream?" Answer: To quit the guild and be a poet or a singer. "How does Wren like to fight?" Answer: Throwing knives from the shadows. They named one 'Featherlight Wrath'.

"No protests from me, my love. Just be sure he knows I don't want to be directly involved in sex bit."

Mizora: "Out, devil." "I... I don't blame you for needing something but did it have to be her? Just talk to me next time you want to lay with someone." Emperor: "So... quite adventurous." Haarlep: "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Does he need a knife in his eye?"

No they will not. I think that was pretty clear from the rest of this. "Have fun, I'll be waiting outside when you've finished... ugh, realized it as soon as I said it, gods,"

They ask Tav to settle down with them anywhere not in Baldur's Gate. With the treasures they've gained on their adventure they're living comfortably and they want to take up singing. They would be interested in getting married, but later down the line. At the epilogue party if Wyll is the grand duke and the player knows about his adopted daughter, Wren would bring up adopting a tiefling from an orphanage in the city they're living in. "I don't want to have my own children at all... but I'd love to help a child so they don't have to go down the same path I did.

It would technically be possible to convince them to have sex (DC 20 Persuasion check), but it would be like if you picked the option after Astarion's Act 2 confession. It would just be a fade to black, and you would lose approval with Wren a LOT. If you were at highest, it would go back down to the middle.

Baldur's Gate 3 Companion!Tav Ask List

What if your Tav was a recruitable companion, instead of the main character? (contains major spoilers for the game, and for some dark urge runs as well)

General

Where can your Tav be recruited?  Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region?  Or are they not recruitable until a later act?

Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

Do they have any secrets that can be revealed?  What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?

Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game?  Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp?  How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?

Are there any moments in the game that trigger unique dialogue for your character? (Like Gale’s anecdote about the barfight after you save the goblin prisoner) 

Story Specific

How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?

How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?

What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?

Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with? 

Do they have unique dialogue if the Player Character lets them die when they steal the Blood of Lathander?

How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin?  How is Orin's deception revealed?  How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?

How do they react to the PC either allowing Astarion to ascend or convincing him to spare the 7000 spawn?

How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer?  Can they offer to become one themselves?  Does their reaction change if they’re romanced? 

How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

How do they react to the Dark Urge killing Alfira?

If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?

Romance

Is your Tav a romanceable character?  Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough?

Are they a polyamorous or a monogamous option?

Do they have a special romance scene at the tiefling/goblin party?

Does the romance have different branching paths, or just one route to take?

How do they react to the player character breaking up with them, or choosing another character over them?

What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test? 

If they’re poly, do they have a reaction to the PC engaging in a relationship with Halsin?

How do they react if the PC has sex with Mizora? The Emperor?  Haarlep?

Will they join in with the PC and the Drow Twins, or no?

What are Tav’s plans for the future?  Do they propose to the PC, or is marriage not something they’re interested in?

Free space! Share anything from your companion!Tav au!

[dreamsteddie]

AITA Steddie Au Part Three

Part Two

Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!

Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓

------

Eddie takes Steve on that second date.

And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.

Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.

Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.

Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.

------

"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.

He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.

"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.

Gareth doesn't say anything.

The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.

He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.

So why this? Why now?

"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.

Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."

With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.

"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.

Eddie kept walking.

-------

That was over four weeks ago.

He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.

In other news.

Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.

"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.

"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.

"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.

But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.

Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.

"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.

"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."

Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.

"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.

Silence.

Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.

Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"

And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.

"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.

"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.

"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.

It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.

Eddie squeezes his hand back.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.

Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.

"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.

"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.

"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.

Gotcha.

Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.

Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.

Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.

Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.

Tag List

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[fireya-x]

they say don't open old wounds

AO3 Link (full tag list) || masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

The mask hides more than just a face; it hides a shared past, a love lost, a ghost you thought long buried.

[3,7k words]

cw: angst, smut, piv sex

they say don't open old wounds

but this is still brand new

and I've got nothing left to lose besides you

and I've already lost you once

what more could you do?

they say don't open old wounds

but I want to

PVRIS - old wounds

It had been months since you joined the 141, months of missions that pushed you to the edge, missions that forged an unexpected bond with your team. A sense of mutual respect and care for each other, a blend of professionalism and camaraderie that softened the harsh realities of the work you did. Soap was always ready with a joke, Gaz offered tactical insights and support, Price kept a watchful eye on your well-being — but Ghost… Ghost remained an enigma. Shrouded in mystery. He rarely spoke more than a grunt or a clipped command, the complete opposite to the warmth of the others.

He was the same hidden figure, strict and cold, like he had been a few years ago when you had the honour of being trained by him and Captain Price. He was a puzzle you couldn’t solve, a cipher you hadn't even intended to attempt to crack, yet the easy familiarity with which the others interacted with him, offering their vulnerabilities to someone who resembled Death himself without a second thought, left you constantly bewildered. You needed to know more. How could they trust someone implicitly who was hidden behind a mask, someone whose past remained a blank slate?

He could be anyone, a traitor in their midst, and no one would know. You shook your head, catching yourself staring yet again, your gaze tracing the lines of the thick skull sewn to his balaclava, desperately trying to find a flicker of the man beneath.

Missions blurred into weeks, then months, and the uneasy feeling just didn’t let go. You had an eye of him always, your gut telling you to, but you found something different than you were hoping for.

It began with small, almost imperceptible observations that chipped away at the carefully constructed wall of Ghost’s persona. Subtle movements, like the precise, almost ritualistic way he adjusted his gloves like he had always done; a subtle tilt of his head as he listened, mirroring his thoughtful pose from years ago. The way he favoured the knife in the strap on his left, like he had always shown off his favourite weapon to you, shown you how to use it to defend yourself if you ever had to grab it from him. The subtle shift in his breathing when under stress, something he tried to conceal but you recognized it with an unnerving familiarity.

You’d catch yourself staring, again and again, searching for something, anything, beneath that mask to prove your mind wrong — or right.

You scoffed at yourself, pushing the thoughts away. Wishful thinking. Ridiculous. Simon was gone. He is and always will be.

It was your mind playing tricks on you, you reasoned, grasping for closure. You were back in the field, surrounded by danger, by ghosts of your past. Of course, you’d see him in every shadow, hear his voice in every whisper of the wind. Your heart, starved for the his presence, filled the void with illusions.

But you couldn’t help it. The mask. A blank canvas that taunted you, allowed your mind to paint his face onto it a million times over, feeding your impossible, unrealistic hopes with the absurdity of ever seeing him again.

Then, a mission had gone sideways. A sudden ambush, a chaotic scramble for cover. Shots were exchanged, but the target was hit, the job done. But in the chaos, you’d gotten separated from the team, wandering some endless fields, unsuccessfully trying to contact anyone through the deafening static of your radio.

Suddenly, you saw him — Ghost, slumped against the rough-hewn timbers of an abandoned barn, a gash bleeding freely on his forearm beneath the torn fabric of his jacket.

Adrenaline surging, you raced towards him, your medic instincts taking over. 

Inside the barn, the air was thick with the scent of dust and hay. Ghost leaned against the bales and exhaled loudly, avoiding looking at you.

You carefully set down your rifle in the hay. “We have to wait here and hope we can contact the others. Comms are down.”

No response.

“Let me look at the wound, Lieutenant.” Not a question, but a command, softened by the implicit understanding that he couldn’t afford to ignore the wound, not now, not while still being out in the field.

You knelt beside him, your hands already moving to assess the damage. “Fuck,” he swore, the word muffled by the mask. You assumed it was the pain, but later you would understand the true reason behind the swearing.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured, your focus narrowing to the task at hand. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.” You pressed an alcohol-soaked cotton against the wound, retrieved form your medkit, your touch surprisingly steady despite the frantic beating of your heart. Even through the layers of his tactical gear, you could feel the heat radiating from his skin. Something about the feel of him, the solid weight of his body against yours as you leaned in to examine the wound, sparked a disconcerting sense of déjà vu. Stop it, you berated yourself. This is not the time.

All those times he'd been around you, he’d kept his distance, interactions brief, clipped, professional. But now, trapped with you in the suffocating silence of the barn, with nowhere to run, no excuses to offer, no escape from your touch, his carefully constructed walls seemed to crumble, inch by agonizing inch. With your hands on him, gentle and caring as they had been countless times before —

You heard the thud of his helmet hitting the ground, followed by the soft rustle of fabric as he shifted, loosening your hold on his arm. “You need to hold still, sir.”

And then you heard it. Your name. Not your call sign, not the impersonal formality of military protocol, but your name. Whispered with the same cadence like it had been in your dreams, and you were sure fatigue had finally driven you beyond sanity. 

Your blood ran cold. No. It couldn't be. He’s gone. It was impossible. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to wake up from this nightmare. He is not here.

But when you turned, you froze. You looked at a ghost. Not the Ghost, but that ghost from your past that had haunted your every single waking moment, your dreams, your nightmares. It had been stalking you, mocking you, reminding you of a love lost and irrevocably buried. The ghost with its dirty blond hair and scarred face and hazel brown eyes.

Simon.

The man who had stolen your heart, then shattered it with his sudden, unexplained disappearance. 

A strangled sob tore through you, the sound raw with disbelief, with years of suppressed grief.

A torrent of emotions washed over you – shock, denial, a resurgence of a love you thought long buried, a burning anger at his deception, at the years of silence, of unanswered questions. “Why?” you choked out, the word laced with accusation. “Why, Simon? All this time… we were here. Together. You knew.”

He winced, his gaze dropping to his injured arm, unable to meet the intensity of your gaze.  “I… I couldn't risk it,” he murmured, the words a strained whisper. “Risk you.” 

A wave of nausea washed over you. He knew. All those stolen glances, the way you always gravitated towards him—he'd known. The realization struck you, and fury warred with the irrational surge of joy. Alive. But he chose this. Chose to hide, to let you grieve.

“The things I've done…” His voice cracked, the weight of his secrets heavy in the air. “…The things I had to do…” He met your gaze, bracing himself for the storm of your anger. “I couldn't risk you getting hurt.” A weak excuse, a pathetic justification, but the only truth he could offer. 

Shame burned in his gaze, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he’d lost you, before you even had the chance to find each other again. The anger, the hurt, the unanswered questions — he saw it all swirling within you.

“Hurt?” The word was hollow, edged with bitterness. “You left me to rot in hell for seven years, wondering if you were even alive, and you talk about hurt? You were here, Simon. You even trained me!” He flinched at the pain in your voice, a pain he inflicted. Something he deserved, not you.

You felt a flash of anger towards Price, who had kept this from you, knowing how much Simon’s disappearance wrecked you. But you also knew that Price, above all else, was loyal to his men. 

“I know what you're thinking,” he whispered. “I asked them to keep it from you. I asked them not to say my name around you… I thought… it would be easier.” He knew now how wrong he'd been. How could he not know? How selfish and misguided this attempt at keeping you safe had been. He was supposed to protect you, not hurt you. “If you’re angry, be angry at me.” He was the only one to blame. It was never up to his comrades to take this weight off his shoulders. 

Then suddenly, he closed the distance between you, and his hand, trembling, cupped your cheek. A jolt, a spark, in the desolate wasteland of his guilt. Your skin, soft and warm beneath his fingertips. A reminder of everything he’d lost. Everything he risked losing again by revealing himself.

No. Your mind screamed in protest, wanting to pull away from the unwelcome tenderness. Don't you dare forgive him. But the words remained unspoken. His thumb gently stroked your skin, a familiar caress, and a sob escaped your lips. This is wrong. He hurt you. But the voice of reason was a faint whisper against the roaring tide of longing. Your hands trembled, wanting to push him away, to distance yourself, anything but this aching tenderness. But at the same time, you wanted nothing more to feel him.

“I don’t want to be angry,” your hand found its place above his on your cheek. “Just… tell me why, Simon? Why?”

He didn't answer. He couldn't. Instead, his lips found yours, a kiss that was both a question and an answer, a desperate, hungry reconnection of two souls separated by time and circumstance. 

He knew you’d push him away, he expected it, he deserved it. But he needed this, this moment of contact, the fleeting taste of a past he had thought was lost forever. He had been dreaming of this moment for too long, torturing himself with imagined reunions, each encounter an agonizing exercise in self-control. Every time you were near, he’d shackled himself mentally, fighting the overwhelming urge to reach for you, to touch you, to scream at you that he is alive and yours, and to beg for your forgiveness.

Your lips on his were like watering a withered flower that his heart had turned into, dry and shrivelled, unable to let love close if it wasn’t yours. He’d sworn never to love again when he left, believing it was that easy, believing it was the only way to protect you.

He had hoped that each mission and kill helped to bury his heart and his emotions until there was nothing left but death. Bury the part of himself that yearned for you, that ached for your touch, and leave only the Ghost behind.

But then you were there. On his team. You stood before him, more beautiful than he remembered, your long hair braided back, your uniform hugging your curves, a vision that made his breath catch in his throat. He could have died then and there, content to simply exist in the same space as you, to breathe the same air.

And with your return, so was he, whether he wanted to or not. He was powerless against you. Simon Riley, the man who loved you, resurfaced from beneath the mask, shattering the carefully constructed illusion he'd built around himself. 

The moment he dreaded haunted his work now, and he considered running, again. Leave the team, like a dog with its tail between its legs, give up and run from his past.

But Price had promised him that he wouldn’t tell you, if he stayed. He had almost begged him not to run again, knowing his past and his pain, and somewhere, he knew Price was right. He needed them. And he realized he needed you.

From then, he cherished every moment with you together, and it pained him to be so harsh to you. But he had to be, afraid the mask would slip, literally. Conversations cut short, orders barked, the subtle flinch in your eyes when his voice cut through the air — each interaction was a battle, a constant war against the overwhelming urge to reach out, to soothe the hurt he knew he was inflicting, to pull you close and beg you to forgive him.

And now, with your hands on him, so gentle and caring, the dam had finally broken. He couldn’t bear it any longer, this agonizing distance from you.

And your lips, so sweet and so soft, like no time had passed at all, they were his salvation, his damnation, his only hope of redemption.

A sigh left your body, distorted from the sobs, and he pressed your face closer to him. He never wanted to let go anymore. Never again.

He still expected you to push him away, to be angry, to unleash your wrath upon him for abandoning you — but you didn’t. Your hands touched every single inch of skin that was exposed, and he didn’t stop you.

He was ashamed of the relief that flooded through him, ashamed of the way his body responded to your touch, ashamed that he dared to enjoy this moment, a moment that should never have existed, a moment born of his lies and his carefully constructed deceptions. Then your hands cupped his length through his jeans, and an unexpected groan escaped his lips. 

He should stop you. You should be furious. You shouldn’t be rewarding him for the years of silence, for the agonizing absence that had left a gaping wound in your life. But the moment your hand touched him through the fabric, every carefully constructed defense crumbled to dust. He was lost.

“Show me you’re real, Si,” you whispered against his jaw, your lips leaving a hot, wet trail along his stubble, your hips pressing against his thighs, the friction igniting a fire in his blood. “Show me… I need… I need to know this is real.”

How could he deny you? How could he deny himself this one moment of reckless abandon, this one chance to reclaim a piece of the past he had so carelessly thrown away?

“Are you sure?” 

He felt the zip of his jeans slide down, heard the quiet clink of his discarded weapons against the hay. He felt you nudging his thighs open, a sense of anticipation coursing through his blood like pure, electric adrenaline.

“I don’t know.” You whispered, looking up at him. Your sight was blurry from the tears, but you saw real concern in his eyes. Mixed with confusion. He had expected you to react differently, you were sure of that. 

If this was just a fever dream, a hallucination conjured by a mind desperate for solace, then so be it. You would savor every moment, every touch, every stolen kiss, before the inevitable awakening, before the cruel return to reality.

You kissed him again, your hand now firmly stroking him, the familiar texture of his skin, the throb of his arousal beneath your palm, sending a wave of heat through you. His hands found their way beneath your uniform, slowly pushing your pants down as far as your position allowed, and the catch in your breath when his touch found your centre was his undoing. The small, shuddering breath that passed through your body, an unconscious reaction to his finger as it played against your sweet spot. And he felt the blood rush to his cock, hardening it, causing it to ache with a need he hadn't felt in years.

You crawled closer onto his thighs and slowly eased yourself onto his waiting length, and that puzzle that was Ghost, the unsolvable mystery, finally clicked into place, a puzzle piece finding its perfect fit, making you both whole.

The world around you ceased to exist. It was just you and him and nothing else. The wound and blood were long forgotten. If there were enemies outside, you didn’t care. You could die right then and there, if it meant you were in your lovers arms for all eternity and beyond.

The stretch of his cock inside your sensetive walls was pure bliss, and you sighed into his neck. “There hasn’t been anyone else. Just you. Always you.” You whispered in confession, and you earned a groan in return.

“I swore to never love again,” he murmured against your hair, as he began to move inside you, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. “And then,” a hard thrust, a gasp escaping your lips, “you were right there again. Fuck.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, fingers digging into the worn fabric of his uniform as he moved within you. The rhythm was both familiar and achingly new, years of longing poured into every thrust. The feel of him, solid and real, chased away the ghosts of the past, the years of wondering, of imagining, of hoping. This was real. He was here.

You sobbed, a mixture of relief and the lingering sting of betrayal, and he responded with a guttural groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breath, hot and ragged against your skin, mingled with incoherent apologies whispered against your ear.

“Si…” you breathed, his name a prayer, a plea, a reaffirmation of a love that had endured despite the years of silence and pain.

His hands tightened on your hips, guiding your rhythm to match his, the friction building and building. It wasn't just the physical pleasure, though it was like a white-hot fire spreading through you; it was the reconnection, the desperate need to erase the years of separation, to meld back into the person you were before he disappeared. 

“I missed you,” he groaned. “So fucking much.”

“Me too,” you whispered back, the tears you thought you'd cried out returning.

The world narrowed, shrinking down to the feel of his clothed body against yours, the heat of his breath, the relentless rhythm that was driving you both toward the edge. 

There was no pretense, no holding back. Just the raw need to be close, to reconnect, to find solace in each other's arms after so long apart, even with the limitations imposed by the circumstances.

You arched into him, the friction of clothing against skin a delicious torment, and a wave of pleasure ripped through you. His grip tightened, and his name tore from your throat as wave after wave of sensation crashed over you, shattered you, dragging you under.

He followed close behind, his release a shuddering groan against your ear, his length pulsing inside you. For a long moment, you just held each other, hearts pounding, breaths ragged, the silence broken only by the occasional shuddering sigh. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t poetic. It was messy, desperate, and utterly perfect.

Even as the aftershocks subsided, you kept your eyes closed, clinging to the warmth of his embrace, afraid to break the spell, terrified that opening them would erase him again, that this precious moment would dissolve into the cruel, cold reality of his absence. You felt a kiss on your forehead, a tender gesture that sent a pang of fear through you. Was he going to leave again? 

But he didn't move.

“I’m so sorry, love” he whispered, his voice ragged, breath warm against your skin. “Please… look at me.”

You opened your eyes, your gaze locking with his. Scarred skin, hazel eyes filled with remorse, but also with an unmistakable love.

He was still there.

He hadn’t disappeared.

He didn’t walk away.

“I promise,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, “I won't ever leave you again.”

You clung to his words, your heart swelling with a cautious hope. “Will you tell me what happened?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening, but his eyes held yours. Watching you these past months, your strength, your resilience in the face of unimaginable danger, revealed a simple truth that would strip him of any excuses not to tell you. You were stronger than he’d given you credit for, stronger than even he had believed. You deserved the truth, no matter how dark, no matter how painful. And he would give it to you. He swore it to himself.

 “I will.”

“Bravo Six… in the blind… you… copy?” The radio crackled, a jarring intrusion into the fragile intimacy of the moment. He reached for it immediately. 

“Bravo Six, this is Ghost. We're in the blind. What's your status?” 

His voice, when he responded to Price, was still tinged with the softness you’d heard only moments before, a subtle reassurance that despite the return of the impersonal detachment, despite the mask he wore for the world, for his team, he was still there, somewhere beneath the surface.

“When we go back,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the static of the radio, laced with a vulnerability you hadn’t intended to reveal, “…when Ghost comes back,” you corrected yourself, the words catching in your throat, “will I still have… Simon?” 

He paused, his hand hovering over the radio, his gaze locking with yours. “You, always,” he said, without any hesitation. “And I promise,” he added, his voice softening, the warmth of him breaking through, “I'll help you understand… Ghost.”

He would reveal the darkness, the secrets, the pain that had driven him to become the masked soldier. He would trust you with the broken pieces of himself, the fragments he’d kept hidden for so long. He owed you that much, if not more. 

He’d give you every little piece of him he could offer.

[ivesambrose]

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅���

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The next chapter of your life indicates a period of discipline, structure and determination. Long term plans or goals instead of short term gratification. I feel previous months of stagnation, struggle and mental turmoil has led to you having the mindset of being rather unfazed towards anything because you have likely realised that regardless of what you 'see' you're in control. You've learnt to trust your intuition and inner guidance over anyone else. You might encounter power struggles in between but this will lead to emotional growth nonetheless.

There is a lot of joy, celebration and new connections to look forward to as well. It might seem like despite the good happening to you and what you've wanted for so long finally being yours, you feel rather defensive. Remember to push through despite past struggles. To fully be in the present and enjoy what you have and what you deserve. For some of you I do see you making really good friends but due to past experiences you're rather guarded towards them. The message I'm getting is that yes, do use discernment when dealing with people. Do establish necessary boundaries. But don't let promising friendships falter due to fears.

You can also expect your dreams to be more within reach, renewal and unexpected help coming through, the path getting clear when you least expect it, healing from mental strain that have remained unspoken.

Lastly, you will experience a balance in giving and receiving. This will be necessary when it comes to your material and spiritual growth.

The next chapter of your life calls for adjustment and change. Drastic ones. If it's causing you some tension know that this area of your life requires that change. You can't expect to step into the next chapter of your life otherwise. I see that this involves your daily routine, health, work, with opportunities of personal growth and recognition in those areas. You may also be stepping into a new role of responsibility that requires self discipline on your part. You will be pushed to focus on your physical health a lot more. So if you feel like you're getting sick often it's a sign to stress less about it and take mindful steps towards it instead. Be it getting a proper check up or holding yourself accountable. You don't have to rush anything however, improvement will happen gradually. Some of you likely just need more movement but not the kind that puts your body on overdrive. There will be rapid progress and sudden opportunities coming your way out of the blue, a lot of communication and even travel. Career wise, it's looking really good! You will also be transitioning away from a very difficult time of your life. You may also have new intellectual pursuits, you'd want to learn new things or will be acquiring a lot of necessary knowledge. you will also find yourself juggling many tasks or projects at once but this will lead to a sort of mastery over your life You'll be feeling rather accomplished.

The next chapter calls for self expression, communication as well as creativity however some challenges or conflicts might arise as you assert your individuality or learn to find your voice in new environments.

You can however, look forward to emotional growth, new beginnings in your emotional life as well creative expressions.

Steady and solid growth when it comes to your finances as well. Something that makes you feel like you don't need to rely on others and you have financial freedom so one less thing to feel anxious about that has possibly been weighing down on you far too much .

Once again, try not to over exhert yourself or you'll end up attaching the experience to something that should come to you rather smoothly. In other words, you really need to drop the mindsets of the people that have been projected onto you and have become your belief systems. It's time to make some of your own without losing sight of what you truly value.

You can also expect more mental clarity and better insights in regards to what to do, where to invest, your life's purpose and what truly brings you joy. But instead of running from it like you did before, you'll embrace it.

You might feel more drawn towards arts, aesthetics, cooking, gardening etc as well.

Having time and proper consideration towards things you earlier didn't have the state of mind for.

[beautifullilacsky]

I have been feeling weird these days. Frankly, just not great. Pretty bad. I have been belittling myself, trying to hide and disappear. What has helped me? Going for a walk by myself. Listening to an audiobook and realizing there are things that I enjoy doing and that make the time pass. Belasting music through my earplugs while in the bathroom, and looking in the mirror as I start to move my body and dance. Write with myself; so pure and vulnerable. So understanding and loving towards myself. I felt like myself again. I reflected on a drawing, where I added a text. I realized that I was, or am, trapped. I try to disappear, trying to hide from everyone. Hoping to protect myself from dissapointing people and being too much. From them leaving, or realizing they no longer love me. Then I went on to mention how lonely it is here, isolating me and who I am, while there is someone out there who does love me for me. It then turned into wondering why I am here. And why these leaves, in which I tried to disappear, are so heavy. I realize that I am no longer wanting to hide. Rather, I am trapped. Trapped into my own hideaway. Where the leaves are no longer lovingly embracing me, they are cutting into my skin. Reflecting helped me realize it, and realize I want to get out. And I have the power to do so.

Frankly, I want to be like in the gif every single day. I also honestly know that I could. I can find casual magic in everything. I can be so passionate about life and everything it has to offer. That feels like the true me. The one who experiences it all, and is grateful for it. Sure, the other parts of me are also me. But I feel my best when I am I that mood. The mood from the gif. My boyfriend is out right now, volleyballing until the very early hours. His roommate is also not home. It is just me, and gash. I am excited. I have already listened to music and danced, but I also ate too much and feel very full right now. Either way.. it is scary to be so me. To be so vulnerable and truly myself in front of someone. I know I can do it. I acted this way during our vacation. Why is it so hard to just be myself? To trust someone enough to be my true self? It's a safe space, babygirl. Sure, sometimes it hurts in this place. But don't you dare pull back because of it. I mean, to be fair, how could anyone ever do anything but smile when they see someone living life like that? What do I expect? The worst that could happen is that someone finds it interesting how you can enjoy and aren't ashamed in public. BUTO BE FAIR EH? WHHHHHYY IS IT SOMETHING TO BE ASHAMED OF? I fucking LOVE people who enjoy like that. I wish I could be surrounded by them. So baby, if the people around you aren't like that, okay and??? Be like that for yourself. He doesn't show his emotions the way you do? Okay and??? Let him experience his emotions the way he wants to. He can honestly count himself blessed to be with a person who can enjoy life so fully. Please, love this part of yourself. Well, you already do. But do it without shame. Do it proudly. Embrace it, truly. You have been taking everything for granted. It's time to be grateful, and be so without any doubt. Please, enjoy life the way you were meant to. Learn to be yourself, the way you are yourself when you are alone. He might not vibe on the same level, but that doesn't mean you should dim your own light. Yoyoyo, please learn to be yourself. Your silly, cute, life-enjoying self. I love the way you are , babygirl. So will he. And if he doesn't, that's big time his loss. Though, I'm pretty sure he loves this part of you, too. I know you love this part of you, so show off that you love her. She is yours. Show your love off by letting her out, the way you'd want someone to love this part of you. She deserves to come out and enjoy life with you. Whoever else is around. She feels safe with you. Please let her feel safe around him, too. He'd embrace her the way she wants to be embraced. Just like on our vacation. That you can still come out during the daily life without any judgement, you know?

[whoreforsexymen]

Strong Drinks & Broken Links 🍺⛓️‍💥 CH. 1

Gray Hair & The Absence of Care

(Gif creds: me <3)

Pairing(s): Vander x Reader

Pronouns: GN!Reader (for now— please see this post for details)

Rating: SFW, except for strong language and consumption of alcohol (drink responsibly, people). Reader is old enough to drink, despite what Vander thinks.

Word count: 4.7k (the rest are going to be far longer, so be prepared)

Tags: Slowburn, Reader is implied to be 21+ years old, Age Gap, Heavy Use Of Language/Alcohol, Reader might be a little too angsty (I’m sorry), Tense Situations, Vander being the caring mentor type he is but in a poorly thought out way.

Notes: I don't think I've ever posted a fic on this account. So, welcome to my only outlet for the brain rotting obsession I have for this man. ALSO I SWEAR TO GOD NO ONE MENTION ANYTHING ABOUT SEASON 2, OR I'LL FIGHT YOU.

((If any of you want to be added to a tag list for this fic, please lmk!! Ask box is also open for requests/suggestions/comments 🤍 feedback is always appreciated 🤍🤍))

It had been a terrible night so far.

Not only had you been shortchanged more than two-thirds of the agreed-upon pay for a job you’d completed—but that paltry sum had quickly slipped from your grasp entirely, taken by a gang of thugs.

You had to give the undercity credit—it had an uncanny ability to remain a perpetual cesspool. You’d managed to take down two of the muggers, but the third—the one who’d made off with your coin—had slipped away while you were dealing with the others. Just your luck. The payout had been pathetic to begin with, and now you were left with nothing but the bitter taste of failure. It looked like you’d be scraping the dregs of the city to find enough for your next meal, yet again. 

That is, unless you decide to drink your dinner. As well as your sorrows, in the process. The idea struck you as you neared the central bar of the undercity, still sulking as you were making your way back to the shack you called home. The Last Drop. A name that said it all. If there was any place where the undercitizens of Zaun gathered, it was here. No doubt the owner had to be the wealthiest man in the area, though that wasn’t exactly saying much in a place like this. 

You made your decision. A warm meal might be out of reach, but liquor could suffice—if you drank heavily enough, that is. Or at the very least, it might dull the sting of the night’s failures. 

The bar was an eyesore, a hulking building among the rundown structures of The Lanes. A garish neon sign blinked above the entrance, buzzing like an angry fly, casting sickly light on the grime-streaked pavement. Inside, the din of loud music and the clatter of drunken chatter spilled into the street. It was a haven for folks with any background, no matter if they sought business or pleasure within its walls. 

You pushed through the door, noting how no one even bothered to glance your way. That was how you liked it—under the radar, always out of sight, always out of the mind of untrustworthy beings. 

Then again, you didn’t trust anyone anyway.

You duck and weave through the crowd of rowdy patrons, eyes scanning the bar for a table or booth at which you could hunker down and nurse your drink in peace. Your frown deepens beneath the hood of your jacket when you come up empty-handed. Typical. No matter, though. You’d have to order at the bar anyway, regardless of where you sat.

It’s when your eyes settle in the direction of the bar that luck seems to briefly shine upon you—there’s an empty stool. Without hesitation, you make a beeline for it, not wanting some drunken fool to snag it before you could. You practically dive-bomb onto the seat, landing with a small grunt, air knocked from your lungs. After the night you’ve had, this stool feels like an oasis, despite the new absence of oxygen beneath your chest. You settle into it like it’s the only thing left in the world, clutching the seat as if someone might try to commandeer it if you let your guard down low enough.  

The realization dawns on you that, in order to get a drink, you’d have to interact with the bartender. You hold that fact in high regard with contempt. 

Chit-chat? Not tonight– or truthfully any night. You’ve never been crazy about casual conversation. The events of the evening have only soured your mood further, and the last thing you need is some eager bartender trying to make nice. Normally, you’d avoid sitting at the bar for that reason alone, yet here you are.

Thankfully, the bartender pays you no mind, his attention fully set on the patron he’s currently tending to. That is, until said patron leaves and the barman finally turns to you, his new source of focus. 

The sheer momentum with which you rolled your eyes almost knocked you out of your seat. 

“Welcome to The Last Drop. What’ll it be?” His voice is deep, and heavy, garnering a thick accent that clung to every word. 

He’s an older man, though exactly how old is hard for you to pin down. His hair’s gray, his eyes tired, the lines of age having etched themselves into his face long ago. However, there’s something youthful about him—something that makes it hard to tell whether he’s an old-looking thirty or a young-ish fifty. Frankly, you don’t care enough to continue your mental evaluation of him. Age shouldn’t matter when it comes to bartenders. They either know how to pour a decent drink, or they don’t.

You don’t waste time with pleasantries.

“Something strong.” You mutter, your voice mostly flat, but with a hint of irritation that danced along the edge.

The bartender scratches at his graying beard, his gaze thoughtful as he considers your request. You grit your teeth, hoping he won’t try to scam you by giving you something weak and overpriced, just to line his pockets with your hard-earned coin. You’d seen it happen to others, and you’d be a damned fool if you let it happen to you. 

The bartender studies your face, or at least what he can see of it beneath your hood, before his gaze shifts to the shelves beneath the counter. After a moment of deliberation, he selects a bottle with thoughtful ease, pulling the cork out with his teeth. With his free hand, he grabs a tin cup and pours in a copious amount, sliding it toward you with a swift flick of his wrist. You’d almost call it a generous decision on his part, considering the fact that you hadn’t even paid your dues first. His choice to serve you first goes a long way in easing your suspicion, at least for the moment.

You dig into your pocket, retrieving the few gold coins you’d managed to hold onto when dealing with the aforementioned thugs. They weren’t enough for one measly meal, but they were enough for a drink or two– or three, but who’s going to keep track? Certainly anyone but you. You’d only stop once your pitiful wealth ran out. Without a second thought, you toss them onto the bar top, making it unspokenly clear to the bartender that you were hoping for much more than just this one drink. You grab the cup, lifting it to your lips and downing the lot of it in one quick, greedy gulp. The warmth spreads through you almost immediately, and it feels like a small victory over the obnoxious turn your night has taken.

The bartender watches this with a faint chuckle before you slam the empty cup back down onto the counter. He takes it without a word, refills the tiny tin chalice, and begins passing it back. Without missing a beat, you grab the cup from him, draining the contents in a second gulp before he even has time to set the bottle back down. 

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” he remarks casually, his voice low and steady as he finally reunites the bottom of the bottle with the countertop. 

“I’ve seen a lot of things.” you mutter, your eyes fixed on anything but him. The words come out flat, though there’s a weight to them. It’s more than just a refusal to talk—it’s a refusal to let anyone look too closely. You avoid eye contact like the plague. Eyes, after all, are the windows to the soul. And letting someone peer through them is a risky gamble you’ve never been apt to take.

You were clearly beyond uninterested in the beginnings of this conversation. The lack of willingness to be friendly reigning clear as you shove the tin cup towards him yet again. He grabs the empty cup and refills it once more—your third drink in under five minutes. He seems reluctant to hand it back. He maintains a grip on it as he eyes you again, this time much more thoughtful.

“Care to chat about it? Might be healthier than drownin’ yourself at the bottom of a bottle,” he offers plainly.

You give him a sidelong glance, not even trying to mask the edge in your voice. 

“Doesn’t sound like a good business strategy, encouraging your paying customers to cut back.” You fire back quickly, the sharpness of your words outpacing even your annoyance at the unwanted conversation.

The bartender chuckles again, a spark of amusement flickering in his tired eyes. There’s a glimmer of understanding in his smile—maybe he’s seen more than a few like you in this dive. Or maybe, he knows in the same fashion as you, that sometimes it’s more palatable to fill the silence with alcohol than with words.

“Fair point, but I’d prefer to keep my patrons alive. Helps me sleep at night, y’know?” The bartender shoots back, his eyes fixed on you, all too curious about what’s hidden beneath your hood. The conversation quickly turns uncomfortable, a painful reminder of why you’ve never liked bartenders—they always talk too much and ask too many personal questions. As far as you’re concerned, they should stick to the charade for the sake of their regulars, and leave all unsuspecting customers alone. 

The momentum of yet another roll of your eyes causes your head to bob ever so slightly— your hood creeping back towards the line of your hair. The new, incredibly subtle, view of your face made the barman clench the cup in his hands with rigor. 

His eyes narrow slightly, the amusement fading from his voice. 

“Where’re your parents, kid?” He asks, his voice low and in demand of an answer. 

The question hits you like a slap, and for a brief second, you find yourself caught off guard. You’re not someone who’s usually thrown by imbecilic remarks from the residents of The Lanes, but this one? It’s different. Not just the audacity of asking such a personal question, but the clear assumption of your age being made so boldly. 

Your head snaps up, and before you can stop yourself, you push your hood back, breaking your own rule about eye contact. Why? Who knows. Today has already gone off the rails, and you’re too far gone to care. The liquor’s sudden grip on your senses began to cloud your judgment, and honestly, it was far from shocking. To be fair, you had asked for something strong… Not to mention having no substantial food in your belly to dilute the potency you sought after. All in all, there was no ignoring how the liquor was starting to pummel you like a brick to the face would. 

You meet his gaze, eyes scanning his face for any sign of what he’s gunning after by asking such a question. But there’s nothing obvious behind those gloomy eyes of his. No clear motive. You can’t tell if he’s purposefully trying to get under your skin or if he’s just another fool with a quick tongue. 

“Rotting in their graves,” you mutter, voice sharp and, in addition, spiteful. 

“Which I’m sure you’ve got one foot in, yourself, Gramps.” You make a mockery of the decades that are clearly stacked against you, hoping to push him back into his corner.

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he practically snorts, running a hand over his silvery beard as he crosses his arms; resting them across his stomach with the casual authority of someone who’s seen it all. He’s not rattled by your quips—no, not in the slightest. 

“How old are you, kid?” His voice is flat now, a hint of something more serious creeping in, though you can’t figure out why. You’re even more unsure now about his intentions. Constantly expecting the worst from people was your lot in life. 

“Too young for you.” You snap back, pushing forward with your usual sharpness, trying to regain some control over this ridiculous conversation. You reach for the cup he had refilled for you, but before you can even graze it, he snatches it away, clicking his tongue like a disappointed parent.

“Tsk, tsk,” he tuts at you, as if you’ve done something wrong.

“I asked how old you were.” he repeats, his voice now devoid of any amusement. 

He watches you carefully, his gaze inspecting your face as if he’s trying to peel back layers you didn’t even know were there.

You roll your eyes, irritation growing, and narrow them at him, unwilling to back down. You can’t tell if he’s probing for something deeper, or if he’s just getting off on making you uncomfortable. Either way, you’re done playing his game.

“Why are you so curious, huh?” you scoff, leaning in and making a bold decision to double down on your irritation. “I’m just another patron here to drown in my sorrows and drink them away. Not to mention, I’m paying for the privilege.” Your words are bold, and with that same boldness, you reach across the bar and rip the cup from his grasp.

You try to bring the drink to your lips, intent on finishing it off. But just as the cup nears your mouth, the bartender’s large, rough hand slips over the opening of the cup like a solar eclipse. 

He glares down at you, his eyes narrowing as he sizes you up with a look that could strip paint. In that moment, something clicks in his mind. The defiance in your voice, the way you’re carrying yourself—it all reinforces his suspicion. You’re not old enough to be here. When you walked in, your hood had obscured most of your face. But now that it’s gone, he can see it clearly: you’re just a kid, trying to score some alcohol. The only thing that kept him from throwing you out on your ass, was your cadence. You looked young, and spoke carelessly, but you sounded grown. If you were in fact grown, he’d ease up. 

However, with the way you look—bloodied and bruised, no less—he’s convinced you’re in some kind of trouble. The kind of trouble he doesn’t want being drug through his bar. He doesn’t know where you’ve been, who you’ve pissed off, or what kind of people you run with. But this? This is his bar, and he’s fought too hard to maintain the fragile peace that reigns here. He won’t let you ruin that for him and his loyal patrons by dragging your poor choices in with you. 

“Seems I’ve struck a nerve,” he says, his voice no longer playful but flat and serious. “Either tell me your age, or you’re cut off.”

The room seems to hush around you. The muffled chatter of patrons behind you fades as the bartender’s tone sharpens, leaving no room for argument. It’s a quiet threat now, the kind that lets you know exactly how much leverage you have—and how little he’s willing to tolerate.

“You didn’t strike shit,” You hiss. “and I don’t need to answer to shit.” You add. 

The bartender bends over the counter, his face inches from yours. The bitter scent of smoke hangs thick on his breath, hot and rancid, and it presses against your skin like a physical weight. The damp air in the bar swirls around you, brushing your cheeks with an uncomfortable warmth that feels suffocating, as if the room itself is closing in.

“Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll have no problem lettin’ my loyal patrons cut your tongue out for us to hang above the bar.” He says fiercely. 

You glance over your shoulder, catching the eyes of the dozens of patrons who have fallen silent, their conversations and business abruptly halted. It’s clear—they’re waiting for a signal, ready to back up their beloved bartender if things escalate.

“You can call off the cavalry, Gramps. I was just leaving,” you retorted, swiping one of your coins from the counter, as if to refund yourself for the drink you’ve yet to have. You release your grip on the cup, almost slingshotting it backwards from the sheer force you two had each been bestowing upon it. 

“Sit down.” the bartender commands, his voice low and final, as you attempt to abscond. 

You don’t reply, instead moving to shoulder through the row of patrons who are standing like silent sentinels, waiting for the slightest nod from their bar’s gatekeeper. It’s not like you expected them to part, but the way not a single person dares budge makes your blood boil. The crowd might as well be a wall of stone. 

“Sit. Down.” the bartender demands again, his tone sharper this time, a razor edge cutting through the haze of the bar.

You grind your teeth, your patience wearing thin.

“I’ll take my patronage elsewhere—”

You don’t even finish your sentence before a hand, seemingly out of nowhere, pushes you roughly back. You stumble, barely managing to stop yourself from falling flat on your ass. The sudden movement sends a rush of heat to your head, the anger spiking through your veins like fire.

You seethed at the touch, the anger burning hot in your chest, every muscle in your body coiled with frustration. But you knew better than to keep pushing your luck. Not today. Not in a situation like this, with dozens of hungry eyes watching, their hands twitching near their weapons of choice, waiting for the slightest excuse to make a move.

Biting back a torrent of curses, you forced yourself to swallow your pride, choosing to stay quiet—at least for now. It wasn’t worth the fight. You could practically feel the heat of their glares digging into your back as you turned on your heel, eyes locking once more with the bartender’s. You reclaimed your seat at the bar with deliberate flair, each movement oozing a sense of defiance and attitude. It was a performance, one you were used to. To you, it felt like you were playing the part of someone tough. But you knew, deep down, that to anyone else—especially the bartender—you probably looked like nothing more than a naive, immature idiot who didn’t know when to shut up. It wasn’t a great look, but at least it kept people from getting too close.

“I’m sat,” you muttered, voice brimming with the remnants of your irritation.

The bartender shook his head slightly, a hint of amusement creeping back into his expression. You could feel the tension in the room dissipate, the energy shifting as the crowd behind you resumed their rowdy conversations. The noise began to swell again, and for a moment, it almost felt like the bar was returning to some semblance of normalcy.

He grabbed a dirty glass from the counter, handling it with practiced ease, and pulled a rag from beneath the bar. As he began polishing the glass, he didn’t so much as glance your way. His focus was on the glass, and for a few moments, it felt like you were nothing more than a background detail to him. You could feel your impatience growing with each passing second. If he had something to say, you wished he’d just say it already. At least that way, you could get out of here—and maybe keep some of your pride intact.

The bartender continued his slow, methodical motions, running the rag around the rim of the glass with an almost exaggerated calmness. He didn’t bother to look up, yet you could feel the weight of his gaze on you through the silence.

“I’m gonna ask you again,” he said, his tone neutral, almost too much. “How old are you?”

You weighed your options. If you didn’t answer, you had no idea what would happen next. If you did answer, you still had no clue. It was a gamble either way.

“(Insert age here),” you muttered, the words slipping out begrudgingly, each one like a weight lifting off your chest.

The bartender scoffed lightly, a soft laugh escaping him that made your skin crawl. Your fingers began tapping impatiently on the bar’s edge, the rhythm a soft counterpoint to the growing tension between you.

“____ years old and still so naive… You really are just a kid, eh?” His words hung in the air, his eyes still locked on the glass in front of him, but you could see the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“There are worse things I could be,” you shot back, your voice laced with a mix of defensiveness and defiance.

“S’pose that’s true,” he replied, finishing up his polishing with the air of someone who had all the time in the world. He set the glass down next to the others—clean, polished, and waiting to be used. With a fluid motion, he slung the rag over his shoulder, then placed one hand on his hip and the other on the edge of the counter. He shifted his weight, leaning just slightly into the bar, his posture relaxed yet somehow still imposing.

“But on the other hand,” he said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, “what you already are ain’t too good either.”

It wasn’t a threat—more of an observation, one that hung heavily in the air, like the smoke in the room. You felt the weight of it, but you couldn’t quite tell if it was a warning or just another way to mess with you. Either way, you could tell this conversation wasn’t over.

You could feel the first few bubbles of anger rising in your chest, the heat creeping up your neck as your blood threatened to boil. You’d always been quick to anger—an unfortunate side effect of your temper and stubborn streak. They were the crosses you’d carried for as long as you could remember.

You scoffed again, the sound sharp and biting, as if it were the only defense you had left. You had already rolled your eyes a dozen times tonight, but it felt like you were on the verge of an explosion.

“What’s your goal here, Gramps?” you spat, your voice dripping with sass, every word a little jab. You didn’t care to hide your bitterness. You liked to fight with words just as much as you did with your fists, and the bartender was starting to see that loud and clear.

“You got the answer you were looking for. Whether you believe me or not, you’ve already served me twice. If my age was such a concern to you, you would’ve kicked me out long before I even sat down.” Your words hung in the air once more, and you could see the gears turning behind his eyes, but he didn’t speak.

He just let out a quiet laugh, as if your logic amused him. And he didn’t bother to answer, not even in the slightest.

The silence stretched, thick and tense, and it was clear he wasn’t going to explain himself. He wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction of an explanation. He simply leaned back, eyes flicking over to the rowdy crowd behind you.

It was infuriating.

You stayed silent for a beat, but only because you knew you’d have more to say. And damn right, you did.

“Do you do this with every new customer?” You snapped, your voice rising now, the frustration boiling over. “’Cause if you ask me, I’m not sure how this shithole’s still in business. You discourage your customers from drinking, even though this is a fucking bar, and that’s all people come here to do. You make it impossible to drink peacefully, just like you make it impossible to drink at all!”

The words spilled out like fire, each one more forceful than the last. Your temper was no longer something you were trying to hold back—it was running rampant, and it felt good to let it out, even if it was in the form of a scream. You weren’t about to let this bartender—this stubborn old man—have the upper hand. Not when it felt like he was deliberately pushing your buttons.

“So if it’s alright with you, Gramps, you got your answer, and I don’t owe you shit. I’m leaving.” You actually raise your voice purposefully this time, slamming your hands down onto the counter as you push yourself off of the stool once more. 

The bartender wasn’t fazed by your outburst. In fact, he’d dealt with feistier, louder, and much more difficult people than you—people who could out-shout you or out-punch you if they had to. He wasn’t bothered by your temper. He had raised four kids on his own, after all. He’d learned a thing or two about handling stubborn personalities, whether they were kids or grown adults who carried themselves like children. And you, in his eyes, were just another brat testing his patience.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His voice was steady, calm, and authoritative, with an edge of finality that cut through the noise of the bar.

Before you could react, his hand shot out faster than you expected, grabbing your shoulder with an unexpected gentleness. He tugged you back into the seat with a kind of effortless force that made your breath catch in your throat.

You shot up from the bar stool in a flash, but his hold was stronger than you anticipated.

Instinct kicked in, and your own hand shot out like a snake, grabbing his wrist with a quick, almost violent motion. You shoved it off your shoulder, irritation flaring up like wildfire.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, your chest heaving as you glared up at him, the heat of the moment burning in your eyes.

You huffed, your fists clenching at your sides, teeth grinding. The room seemed to close in around you, but you weren’t backing down—not now, not after all of this. The tension between you and the bartender was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. You could feel the weight of the crowd’s silent attention being drawn to you once more as they waited for your next move, but you weren’t afraid. You didn’t have time to be.

The man let out a heavy sigh, the sound thick with disappointment. 

“Look, kid—”

“By the fucking god’s, I’m not a kid!” you snapped, your eyes flashing a level of ferocity that sliced straight through him.

He pressed his lips into a thin, hard line, his gaze cemented on you still as he took a long, steadying breath. Patience was his virtue, and he was willing to endure this sparring match for as long as it took. 

“It’s clear you’re in some kind of trouble,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Maybe, just maybe, instead of lashing out, you could let someone help—”

You cut him off mid-sentence, your words an unpleasant interruption.

“Help? You want to help? Surely that’s the wrong word. Surely, I heard you wrong, cause, from the way I see it, you’ve done nothing except cage me in here, threaten me, and withhold what I paid for. So if it’s with any consolation, take your ‘help’ and fuck off.” 

Enough was enough. Without another word, you climbed atop the stool, bracing yourself for what came next. You steadied your balance, then launched yourself toward the crowd with calculated precision. The dismount was quick—intentional, forceful. You tucked your legs in, soaring over their heads in a perfect flip, and extended them just before hitting the ground behind them. Without pausing, you bolted for the door, heart pounding in your chest.

To your surprise, you made it—flying through the door and slamming it shut behind you with a satisfying crash. Finally, you were free, never to be seen within a hundred yards of this bar ever again. 

The patrons had made a half-hearted attempt to grab at you as you rushed past, but a sharp, deafening whistle from the bartender stopped them in their strides. He shook his head softly, a silent message that it wasn’t worth the chase. That it was better to let you go. If you were in trouble, it would catch up with you soon enough.

Deep down, the bartender hated seeing someone so young seal their own fate in such a way. But, in the end, there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t save them all—no matter how badly he wished he could.

He couldn’t help but wonder— if maybe, just maybe, he’d been a little too assertive, or downright impetuous with you after all.

But it didn’t matter now. You were gone. All he could do was hope you’d survive out on those streets. 

taglist: @blogforhoes @committingcrimes-2047 @dirtandcrime @eternalgoddessofart

[winisayswhat]

Fairy Whispers

🧚‍♂️ 🧚‍♀️ soft and comforting hug from fairies 🧚‍♀️ 🧚‍♂️

Pile 1 Pile 2

PILE 1

You have so much inner power and strength within you , enough to shake up the world , but you aren't letting yourself use the power , there is a sense of denial in you , it's like you're quiet ignorant towards your own powers , there might be people under estimating you because you are refusing to utilize the power within you , be more confident , put yourself out it the world love , you are so magical and powerful , you deserve the world ,the universe , the heaven , and much more . You have so many people secretly admiring you , their heart fills up with joy when they see you or are with you , they feel seen and heard, so stop feeling lonely or like a chooped out piece, you add depth and love to people's life ,knowingly and unknowingly . You don't need anyone , people need you , you are the embodiment of supreme powers , you are not just another existing being in the jungle , the jungle belongs to you , and you're the king/queen 👑 .

You are very humble about your talent and knowledge , stop it. So many people are feeding upon your lack of showcase of talent , go out in the world and project your talents, we fairies will season it with our magical glitter ! You're so smart that we're in awe ! You're so humble my child , I wish I could give you a hug , I hope people saw the infinity magic that you embody , but hey , superheroes and fairies are just simple people with extraordinary powers and not everybody is meant to see it 😌.

Go out be adventurous , you have zest for life, go out and own it, you have such great leadership qualities that people are jealous ! You were born with it . You might sometimes feel that you get the toughest battles , but guess what , God gives his best children the toughest battles ,because God knows you're IT CHILD of the curb.

There will be turbulences and unpleasant situations in future , but don't worry me and the lord have your back ! Don't cry, dont shy , just be happy and spread joy ! And if anything does go wrong, my glitter will fix it all ♡

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************

PILE 2

You're surrounded by loving, supportive energy, and the fairies are here to guide you! 🧚‍♀️💖 You've recently experienced heartbreak or emotional pain, but don't worry, you're stronger than you think .The fairies advise you to take a step back, assess your situation, and be patient with yourself and others . You're nearing a milestone or accomplishment, and it's essential to trust in your abilities and wisdom .It's the test of times and I bet you shall pass it . The universe is testing how strong you're, so that it could evaluate you and reward you !!

You might often feel stagnant in life and confused, too many options ? Too many thoughts ? No progress? Don't worry , this shall last for a while , it's building you for the future life . You are an empress , the more you trust and nurture yourself ,the more you'll be universe's favourite child ! Celebrate yourself daily , because you're special & shall always be💗

Stay positive and focused on your goals . You may receive an emotional or romantic invitation, or experience a strong intuitive connection with someone .Be mindful of your thoughts and emotions, and practice mental discipline to overcome anxiety and worry . Trust your inner guidance and wisdom, and take time for introspection and self-reflection . You tend to avoid it or lack discipline in your spiritual routine . Whatever you do , do it with 100% dedication .

You might feel like you're lagging compared to others and there might be lots of self doubt and uncertainty, but it only gets better and better with time !

Focus on developing your skills, paying attention to detail, and taking pride in your work .You may receive new opportunities for financial growth and abundance ,but you need to be opem for it ,stop doubting yourself and your rewards . You're on the verge of a new beginning, and the fairies encourage you to approach this journey with trust, and open heart .

Trust your intuition and inner wisdom, and listen to your inner voice . Cultivate mental clarity and focus to navigate your spiritual journey . You're a powerful, magical being, and the fairies are honored to guide you on your path!

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[llamaisllama777]

I Wanna talk about today's LAES episode!

Okay, I loved this episode and am pleasantly surprised by how mature most of them handled this, especially Lunar and Moon. Lunar knows he messed up, and he really has no excuse for what he did. He made a dumb mistake with MAJOR repercussions. He takes his punishment like a man and accepts it won't be easy to earn everyone's forgiveness, and it's up to Earth if she wants to forgive Lunar or not and that's fair.

Monty and Moon are rightly mad at Lunar, and while I think Monty shouldn't threaten to punch Lunar, it's entirely fair. That's just who Monty is. He's an angry guy and doesn't like it when people hurt people he cares about, so while he shouldn't have threatened Lunar, it is to be expected. Monty loves Earth. She's one of the best things that ever happened to him, and he adores her and hates seeing her get hurt and betrayed... again. While yes, it was an accident, it was a very poorly and badly timed accident.

We don't know if Earth is gonna be okay.

-Best case scenarios

They get all the negative star power out of her and she's back to her old self again

Or she's fine, but she just feels numb like Monty's arm did for like five months.

-WORST case scenario

She dies.

Monty has all the right in the world to be mad. Everyone here does. Lunar could have killed Earth! Or hurt Moon, or Jack, or Dazzle. They have all right to be mad!

I'm glad all of them still care for Lunar and still see him as a brother and don't want anything bad to happen to him. I'm proud of Moon despite the fact that he was very hurt by Lunar's words he still loves him. If this had been how OLD old Moon he would have torn Lunar to shreds verbally... and then maybe physically.

I'm proud he's grown from his angry past.

Sun and Solar seem the most sad to kick Lunar out, but they understand his actions NEED to have consequences.

I've seen some people say that it's not fair for them to kick out Lunar and say he's dangerous...

Guys... HE IS. Lunar is basically a walking BOMB!

Yes, Monty has access to dangerous weapons, and so does Solar and Moon... but they keep those away from Earth in places she won't find them or get hurt by them.

Sun has magic.... he can control it.

(when he's not having a nightmare)

While everyone in that room is dangerous, they're all careful. Lunar wasn't.

So, now he has to face the consequences. It's sad to see Lunar be separated from his family and still have no idea who he is or what he's supposed to be... but who knows, maybe this is what Lunar needs. Plus, if Lunar doesn't want to stay in THIS universe, I can think of one universe that could be a big help to him...

*Cough! Eclipse and Puppet's! Cough!*

This could be the first step in the right direction.

I get why people are upset at the Celestial family and Monty for kicking out Lunar... BUT I can't argue that they didn't do anything wrong. I think the Celestial did the right thing.

Actions have consequences both GOOD and BAD.

Also... does anyone else think Lunar's apartment reminds them of Peter Parker's from the Tobey Maguire Spider-man movies and Spider-man No way home. It just gives me that vibe.

Also... I feel SO BAD for Earth!

The girl has been betrayed by

-Her father

-Her brother (Nexus)

-Monty for not telling Earth about his crimes (They worked that out)

-And now Lunar!

Girl probably gonna have trust issues after this.

[krilltastrophe]

ty for tag ;3

also edit because the little symbol embedded so wierdly omg

9e weirdest dream you can remember:

shit I have wierd dreams a lot so i'll just go with one I remember but I had this one which was presented like a short film, where a mom sent her young son up to bed and tucked him in with his teddy bear. she came downstairs to see on the news a government warning not to trust any of your kids around stuffed animals because of some strange disease going around, she turns to rush upstairs but her kid is already at the bottom of the stairs teddy bear in hand. his face is mauled and the teddy bear's face is replaced with a gross realistic human face. none other than jerma985

9e random snack you love:

celery. trust

9e last movie you watched + rating:

idk probably a saw rewatch which always gets a good 8-9/10. but for not a rewatch uhhhhhh possibly fantastic planet which I gave a 7/10 but it is fantastic and everyone should give it a shot

9e fav fictional characters:

oh boy. here we go. amanda young from saw, shadow the hedgehog, susie deltarune, punchy animal crossing, venom, power from chainsaw man, mae nitw, asriel undertale, glados portal, grady portal, and for the sake of everyone ill leave it at that

9e vanilla or chocolate:

see here's the thing. vanilla is ALWAYS good. you can't go wrong with vanilla. chocolate is not always determined to be good. you've got like a 50/49 shot. and that 1% left is a REALLY good chocolate. except i'm only thinking of this in terms of ice cream hm. well for ice cream either but for anything else probably just vanilla because on anything else chocolate has an 80% chance of sucking

tags uhhhhh man I dunno I don't have enough mutuals @dragoninabackpack LMFAO that's all I can think of if anyone else wants to do this game do it and pretend I tagged you

tag game ⊹₊⟡⋆

hello angels ⁠♡⁠♡ i decided to do a tag game bc i haven't done one in a long time and they're always really fun imo !!

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౨ৎ weirdest dream you can remember:

i was in a tim burton movie and got kidnapped by a vampire which was my bsf, then had to marry him bc i had wings and he liked them, then ate gum and died bc it was poisoned (there were def weirder ones but i can't recall them rn)

౨ৎ random snack you love:

joghurt with banana, peanut butter and chocolate omggg and watermelon with chips i swear it's really good !!

౨ৎ last movie you watched + rating:

juno: 9.5 out of 10 i loved ittt !! >ᴗ<

౨ৎ fav fictional character(s):

atm im especially obsessed with cassie ainsworth and pearl although there are a looot more !!

౨ৎ vanilla or chocolate?

i can't decideee myself ahhh

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i know you have to write quite a bit but i hope some people out there enjoy this and i personally always love reading how y'all fill these out ^^

no pressure tags: @sneeky-bean @cupcakee10 @ppingloryhole @moonysprettypoison @delicatesleep @cinnamorwll @daintydoll13 @yourpinkdollyprincess + anyone who would like to join ofc ᯓ★

[thefirst3chapters]

There's something about the Danes men recognizing the Gilmores' happiness in their final OS episodes. ("You look happier than when I saw you last." / "I just like to see you happy.") Maybe the S6 writers weren't sure that this was going to be Jess's last appearance, but this was Luke's definitive end for the series; in either case, at the time these episodes were written, they were the show's final statements on who these characters are.

It's established over and over how well Luke and Jess know the Gilmores and vice versa. Luke knows exactly what Lorelai brought to Bid-a-Basket day and has her wardrobe memorized and steadfastly believes that she can start her own inn even when she's convinced that she's failing. Jess knows that Rory isn't herself when she's in Hartford and remembers her birthday even though he's barely seen her in years (and ASP directly confirmed that the intention was to portray them as seeing each other for who they are). This mutual sense of knowing is baked into the first times both couples meet. The first time Lorelai met Luke, she pestered him during a lunch rush for coffee and for him to tell her his birthday until he relented. The first time Jess met Rory, he stole her book and wrote all over it. Both of these actions could've been horrible first impressions for anyone else, and on paper could've been horrible first impressions for Luke and Rory specifically, but they were charmed and intrigued, and they treasured the written keepsakes they were left with.

Even with this intrinsic knowledge, the Danes' failures as partners often boil down to the same problem: they retreat when they're in crisis. With their biggest, relationship-ending conflicts (Luke keeping April from Lorelai and the fallout of Jess not graduating), they spend months thinking that they have everything under control when they really don't and fail to tell the Gilmores anything. This is perhaps Jess's core flaw in S3 even more so than the fact that he left; he didn't have anywhere to stay, and finding out who his father was probably ended up being an important catalyst for the person he became, but he wasn't able to share any of that with Rory. She directly brings up her hurt over Jess not telling her anything when she's in the car with Lorelai and when she's on the phone with him, and her unhappiness here is so similar to Lorelai expressing her unhappiness about her relationship with Luke when she's in the car with the therapist. ("I don't like how I feel and I don't like what I do." / "I'm not happy, and I feel crappy all the time and I just think I've had it.") They've both been left behind.

This isn't the end, though. Luke and Jess spend their time apart from the Gilmores still loving them while also building/rebuilding their professional lives, coming to terms with their pasts, and showing up for their families. This is what I think separates Jess leaving from Christopher leaving. Christopher had options and resources to be in Rory's life but chose not to be a consistent presence, and Lorelai accepted that. Rory points this out to Lorelai in S5 E9: "You're just always waiting for him to get himself together." Rory can tell that dynamic isn't healthy from the years she's watched it play out. She doesn't let Jess back into her life when she knows he isn't ready, and he grows up without her out of his own determination. His circumstances were never really like Christopher's, and Rory was left in the dark about that at the time, but when he returns in S6, I think she recognizes the difference. There's a reason why Rory shares her deepest insecurities with Jess in AYITL and sprints out of her house because she can't wait to share her happiness with him but has such an emotionally distant relationship with Christopher. As for Luke and Lorelai, they gradually get closer in S7 as they learn to trust each other again. Luke turns to Lorelai when April is sick and he needs a character reference, and Lorelai's letter helps him win partial custody and reveals where her heart truly lies, which is a catalyst for her relationship with Christopher ending once and for all. Lorelai asks for Luke's help when she's looking for a new car, and even though it doesn't make sense to him, he finds a way for her to have the exact same model again because he knows it's important to her.

Then we get to those final scenes. At Truncheon, Jess can tell just by looking at Rory that she's happier now that she's back at Yale and is editing the newspaper. She breaks his heart, but he makes sure she'll get back to her car safely and offers himself as an alibi because he still wants the best for her. In "Bon Voyage," Luke stays up all night helping the town set up Rory's party and sewing a tarp together but doesn't even want Lorelai to know. Luke and Jess have hurt the Gilmores and been hurt by them, but for both of them, their final act in the OS is quietly, selflessly wanting Lorelai and Rory to be happy. I just can't fathom a Luke who doesn't love Lorelai or a Jess who doesn't love Rory; that love is imperfect and doesn't solely define either of them, but it's an inextricable part of who they are.

[inquisimail]

dai love interests' letters to the inquisitor in veilguard, if anyone was curious to see them. transcriptions in alt text & under cut

Amatus,

I'm writing. Again. Yes, the sending crystals still work and yes, you'll be in Minrathous in a few short weeks. But a letter, written in blind longing, is real. It can be touched, and it can be held, when ink and paper must substitute for your skin on mine and my breath in your ear.

I used to scoff at frequent declarations of affection. Trite, I thought. Save them for rare and precious moments. But time and love are no longer things I care to squander, especially not as we race again toward calamity. And so, in each of these fleeting, ephemeral seconds, I will tell you that I love you. Whether penned or spoken, or conveyed by glance or action, I love you. In this moment, and in all the moments to come, for as long as they do, I love you.

I will find you soon.

Yours, Dorian

---

My love,

You have summoned me to Minrathous, and I will answer your call, as soon as responsibilities here in the South allow. I have missed being by your side.

Will these troubles be the last we face? The world seems always to conspire, through duty or disaster, to pull you away from me. I do not resent it. You are dedicated to purposes far larger and more significant than myself. I hope you do not think me a fool for hoping that one day, your only concern will be the color you wish our walls to be painted, or the flowers we will plant beside our gate. I'm partial to carnations.

Yours always, Thom

---

My love,

We are no strangers to duty, or the separation it demands of us. You head for Tevinter, and though I want to go with you, there is work we both must do. I will not falter in the tasks that wait before me and I pray my actions, in whatever measure they can, will keep you safe.

The others see only confidence in my resolve, but you have always known more than mere appearance. I confess to you, and you alone, that I am afraid. I'm afraid of what may happen, that Thedas will face such turmoil as it did before. I know not what awaits us. Yet even in the face of uncertainty, there are two things I cannot doubt and never will. The first is that our paths are never separated long. That I will find you at my side when I need you, as you will find me at yours. I will play my part in this and follow as soon as I can.

The second thing I never doubt is you. Whatever lies before you, trust yourself. Trust your heart as I trust it. It will not lead you astray.

Yours, Cassandra

---

Hey, Kadan,

Not the first time we've marched toward different battles. I know you're keeping the crap from catching fire up in Tevinter. Wish I could be there, but I'll make sure there's a world for you to come back to when you're done dealing with crazy vints and stupid Antaam and whatever other crap Solas kicked up. (Shit, the Antaam. Remember when I was worried what would happen if I went tal-vashoth? That right there!)

I know you're gonna be careful, and you've got Morrigan there. Just take care of yourself. If anything happens to you, I'm going to have to take Krem and the Chargers and stomp across all of Tevinter to come get you. It'll be a whole thing, and you know it'll upset Dorian.

Being apart from you made me realize something else. I spent so long being whatever the Ben-Hassrath wanted me to be. An investigator. An agent. A mercenary sending reports. These past years, since the Inquisition ended, I've been able to be just what I want to be.

And what I really want to be is yours. I like the person I am when I'm with you.

So come back safe.

Love, The signature appears to be a stylized rendering of the Iron Bull's head.

---

(An artistically doodled journal page presumably from the Inquisitor's partner, Sera.)

Keep this as close as I need you. (A drawing of a pile of flowers, with lines like it's moving, an arrow pointing to it labeled "us.")

North again, Mini-wrathus still stuck up its own pucker.

Magiturds are scared of us. They don't even know.

We work with Maevaris, right? She's wow.

So many Friends! Jennies in all the walls!

We kill him this time. He took from us twice! (A drawing of a cracked egg scribbled out, with "can't even joke" in letters that tore the page.)

Still thinking of you sideways.

Never mind the Dalish, here's the Veil Jumpers! Tempest-kin! (A drawing of a tall, shorthaired elf (Sera?) and Irelin brandishing two fingers, backflipping as a tree explodes in runes.)

The memory thing makes my head spin. If that Rook doesn't take it, throw it out.

Tell Morrigan ppbbth! for me.

I'll also tell her ppbbth! She knows why.

Tell them to Stripe. Him. Up. I wanted more books. (More heavy scribbles that tear.)

You meet; I'll keep you safe. Then I'm your time off, and you're my time on.

(The last section has different colored inks, like Sera has returned to it several times.)

New naked names: -Sweet-tits (scribbled out) -Bestest (scribbled out) -Loverly (scribbled out) -Lovey (scribbled out) -My-for-always-and-ever - name's not too long, time's too short. -But "Sweet-tits," though (scribbled out)

---

The top of the letter has been punctured by small, sharp teeth, leaving most of a beloved name and a few sentences too chewed to read.

I fear the puppy started on this letter shortly after I did. I'd start over, but I must send this tonight if it's to reach you. Matters are settled here and I make for Tevinter as soon as possible.

I almost believed chaos might spare us this time. I can't say I wished to see Minrathous before now, but I am eager to see you. I long to see your face and know that you're all right. You are— I've— There's— I wish that I was better at putting into writing all that's in my mind. For now, simply know that I love you. It is the most cherished constant of my life.

The days ahead will not be easy. I know there's much you carry, more than many realize. But whatever you must face, you will not meet it alone. You have my sword, my counsel, my—I could write this list forever when all I mean to say is this—

Whatever you need of me, I am yours.

Cullen

---

My Dearest Lady, / My Dearest Lord,

I have spoken to friends in Minrathous. They offer us their hospitality, not to mention shelter from the worst intrigues of the Archon's Palace. While you're well acquainted with the roving eyes of grand courts, please take care. Tevinter's regard can be the oldest and cruelest of them all.

The family writes the weather back home is beautiful. I do miss our quiet times together.

There is a question I've wanted to ask you for so long. I would like to pretend I have been busy, or it was not the proper time. But, if I am being honest, I only waited because I have been afraid of choosing a poor moment. Please, let me make a promise to you here.

When we return to Antiva, I will ask you, on the steps of the estate, if you will do me a great honor. And I dream you will say yes.

Always yours, Josephine

Postscript: I cannot believe it nearly slipped my mind. Yvette and Lord Otranto send their best wishes, and hope to see us back home in time to welcome their third child.

[strawbqq]

Hii hellooo !!!

I would like to request something with yandere! chuuya, anything you'd like to write about him really :)

a/n: yes of course.ᐟ.ᐟ help i love this request sm :,) chuuya & jouno's my fav so gotta prioritize this hehe.ᐟ.ᐟ also, i don't write nsfw unless u specifically request for it, so pls keep that in mind , if u want it contact me and i'll add it.ᐟ (´･ᴗ･ `) anyway ty for requesting, enjoy <3

𝕪𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖.ᐟ 𝕔𝕙𝕦𝕦𝕪𝕒

[Warnings: yandere themes, unhealthy relationship, angst✰] [Word count: 288 || 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂.ᐟ]🍓

sfw. hcs

actually one of the safer yanderes to be around out there, he just loves you way too much

already overprotective yall, being yandere would probably throw him over the edge

feels like he's the only one who can protect u

hovering over you at all times, doesn't trust you AT ALL

at first it was kinda sweet, then it's obvious he has no concept of personal space

rip to anyone whos dumb enough to hit on you

(he'll do it when no one's watching)

100% excessive affection

def. expect hugs, hand holding, constant 'im only doing this because i care abt u' moments

gets jealous easily, really frustrated when u don't give him enough attention

needs constant reassurance

keeps asking u if u still love and want to be w/ him

extremely clingy, don't even try to escape

patience meter is zero, he loves u but that doesn't mean he wouldn't resort to violence if u try to leave him hot

if you always did what he told you, you'll be fine

if not your fucked

his punishments are BRUTAL

would twist your arm behind your back until you cry and beg for him to stop

feels terrible afterwards but won't hesitate to do it again if he needs to

next day would act like nothing happened while ur literally shaking in the corner

hates to see u scared of him but doesn't say anything

will treat you really well if you don't try to escape tho

would pamper u with lots of expensive presents and take u on romantic dates

you two would almost seem like a real couple...almost

danger meter: 7/10 , you'll be safe (if u listen)

just pls dont test his patience 🙃

chuuya im single

a/n: I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS AHHHH chuuya's my baby \(★ω★)/ i love him sm <3 happy (early) thanksgiving to everyone, stay safe out there.ᐟ♡

𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾.ᐟ ʚ🍓ɞ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs + ʟɪᴋᴇs ʜɪɢʜʟʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ

o(≧▽≦)o

[evervigilantnightshade]

The Line - Part 5

Reader and John have always straddled the line between playful flirting and taking things further. However when they are forced into a safe house and a secret comes out will they be able to save what they were heading for or is all lost.

Reader x John Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Laswell, Original characters.

Warnings for series: Angst, violence towards reader, reader attacked by men, a pup gets hurt (but don't worry he's ok) Blood, fluff, flirting, a bit of light smut. Death and killing on missions, Father of reader's death mentioned. Puking.

Authors note: Enter Keegan

MASTERLIST

The next morning the team was in rough shape, Y/N made her way to the kitchen to grab a coffee and both Simon and Soap were sitting at the kitchen table with their heads down. Y/N opened the cupboard and then slammed it shut causing Simon to bolt upright and Soap to groan. 

“Fuckin hell woman.” Simon grabbing his head. “Goddamn Konig and his shots.” He growled and put his head back down. 

Out of pity she made them both a cup of tea and brought it over to the table before going back and grabbing her coffee to join them. 

“I think I’m dyin.” Soap whined�� 

“Surely you have been in rougher shape than this.” Y/N took a sip of her coffee and rolled her eyes

“No. This is it, get yer goodbyes in.” 

“So dramatic.” 

She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and pulled it out, seeing a message from an unknown number. 

“Pulling up in about 5 minutes, don’t fucking shoot me. Again.” 

Y/N smirked, having a feeling she knew who it was. She got up and headed out to the front porch and leaned against the railing enjoying the cold crisp air. She was enjoying the stillness when beside her she heard a groan. Looking over she saw Gaz curled up in one of the deck chairs with sunglasses on. 

“What are you doing out here?” 

“Needed air. Think I’m going to be sick.” 

With that he ran over to the railing and threw up. 

“I see you didn’t listen to me.” Y/N said, shaking her head. 

“I tried! Have you ever tried saying no to Konig? He doesn’t listen! He’s all smiles and ‘s all ‘Vu need another drink, trust me’ and you do! You trust him! But he lies!!! ” 

In front of her she heard tires crunching on gravel and she looked up to see a black car with black out windows, similar to the SUV they came up here in. 

“Who the hell is that?” Kyle stood up trying to be alert but then heaved over the railing again. 

Stepping out of the car was a man wearing a black mask that covered his nose and mouth, along with a black ball cap. He was wearing a black hooded sweater and had the sleeves rolled up showing his arms that were both covered in tattoos. He had a package in his hand and put his hands up in mock surrender. She’d know those baby blues anywhere.

“Keegan.” Y/N smiled

“I’m unarmed.” He called out as he took steps forward. 

“You’re a lousy shot so it wouldn’t matter if you were.” Y/N called back 

“That’s inaccurate.” He said, making his way up the stairs of the porch. 

“Got the scar to prove it.” 

Y/N grabbed the package from his hand and opened it. Laswell worked fast. She pulled out some papers, a couple of passports and a folder. 

“I was aiming for your shoulder. For the record. Unlike you who took out one of my kidneys.” His voice is low and quiet. 

“I was aiming for your kidney. So I guess we’re square.” Her voice was distant as she looked at the paperwork in the folder. 

“So it’s true? You comin over to Kortac.” 

Y/N froze and looked at Keegan with a look telling him to shut the hell up.

“Not the time, Keegan.” She motioned over her shoulder to Kyle who was now sitting back in the chair. 

“Wait, you’re leaving the 141?” Kyle asked 

Y/N sighed and then turned to look at him. 

“It’s complicated. Things were said. John wants me off the team, told me last night. Don’t say anything to anyone please. I’m still working shit out.” 

“No but he was drunk. He probably didn’t mean it Y/N. I bet he apologizes today.”

“Gaz love, the things said last night can’t be taken back, no matter how many times he apologizes. Again though, please don’t say anything to anyone. We have several more days of travel in front of us and I don’t want to spend that with Ghost and Price beating the shit out of each other. So please promise to keep this between us for now.” 

“Ok I promise.” 

“Jesus what is this, high school?.” Keegan muttered behind her “Hope you don’t bring it over to our team.”

“Do you like your remaining kidney or….”

Keegan put his hands up again in mock surrender and she pushed him towards the door. She was about to turn the handle when the door opened and standing in front of them was Price. He looked at Keegan with confusion, seeing his hands up. He went to reach for his sidearm. 

“Who the hell are you?” He asked gruffly. 

“I’m a friendly. Laswell asked me to come by and drop off some stuff for Y/N.” 

His eyes then met Y/N’s and she saw regret on his face. He was about to say something but she spoke first. 

“Excuse us Captain, we have to speak to Konig.” She pushed Keegan back so Price could pass. “We should have a team meeting soon to discuss future plans but I will leave that up to you Sir.” 

His mouth opened and closed a few times before he nodded and walked past them. 

“Put your fucking hands down.” She hissed at Keegan who chuckled. 

“Yes Sir” He mocked her and followed her inside. 

Konig was now sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a bottle of whisky. Walking over to the table, Keegan sat beside Simon who still had his head down. 

“Rough night?” He smirked and then slapped him on the back. 

“Who the fuck invited you.” Simon groaned, not lifting his head. 

“Your girl did. Think she’s bored of you. Needed a bit of the red white and blue to cheer her up.” 

“Fuck off.” Simon sat up and glared at Keegan. 

Y/N sat down next to Soap, reaching over and rubbing her hand up and down his back. 

“Laswell sent us some papers for the trip, and Keegan is with us for the next leg of it.” 

She stopped rubbing Soaps back but he grabbed her leg.

“For the love of god, dinna stop.” 

She smiled and started rubbing it again. Price walked in a few minutes later and called a team meeting. Gaz sat down at the table beside Y/N, Price sat beside him on his other side. Konig reached over and grabbed a file box and put it on the ground beside him. 

“Alvight, next part of vour journey is a train ride to Sweden.” He pulled out an envelope that had some passports and train tickets. “Here is how zee pairing will be. Captain Price and Y/N…” 

“Wait Konig, there’s been a change. May I?” Y/N held up the envelope Keegan had brought her.  

“Of course.” 

She reached for the envelope Konig had and switched out two of the passports and the tickets. 

“Ok Captain Price you’re with Gaz, you’re businessmen selling insurance, and you're teaching Gaz the ropes type thing. Ghost and Soap you two are together, you’re headed to a metal music festival Gothenburg. I’m paired with Keegan. We’re newly weds on our honeymoon. Any questions?” 

“What was wrong with the original plan? What changed?” Kyle asked

“Nothing was wrong, we just went a different way. Originally I was paired with Captain Price and we decided it would be better to have him with you.” 

“Who’s we?” Price asked, his head tilted. 

“Watcher and myself. Any other questions? Good. So myself…” 

“Why is Keegan coming and not Konig?” Price interrupted her. 

“Konig won’t show his face, so it's pretty hard to get through customs.” Y/N huffed “Moving on. Myself and Keegan are going to head into the city now. Ghost and Soap you head in an hour after us and then an hour after that Gaz and Captain Price. After we arrive in Sweden there will be cars waiting for each pairing that will have directions to the safe house.”

“There’s only two cars here now. That’s if he brought one.” Price spoke up again. 

“He did and a third was dropped off last night.” 

“Anything else?”

This time she waited for him to ask more questions but he didn’t.  

“I’ve got one.” Soap said, having finally raised his head up off the table. “Are all yer friends masked sociopaths?” 

“I told you to put the viskey in vour coffee and vu vould feel better.” Konig held out the bottle to Soap who turned green.

“Alright lets focus. Watcher also has provided us with clean phones so turn in your old ones and take a new one. We won’t be in contact now until we are at the next safe house unless it’s an emergency, so be safe.” 

She grabbed her and Keegan’s passports and tickets off the table and stood up. Simon, Konig and Keegan stood up as well and the group of them made their way to the front door. 

“Don’t vee a stranger.” Konig hugged her softly before placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Hope to hear from vu soon.” 

“Back at ya big guy.” She then turned to Simon.

He was staring at her.  

“You ok?” 

“I’m fine. You behave, yeah?” 

“Will do. See you on the other side.” 

He continued to stare at her so intently that she had to turn and grabbed her bag just to escape his gaze. She walked out to the car, glad to be away from the team for a bit. 

They drove in silence as Y/N stared out the window thinking about everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours. She’d lost so much her heart hurt so badly she didn’t think it would ever heal. She wished she could just walk away now, take one of the passports and just fly somewhere by herself to wallow in her heartache. Normally that place would be home but without that option she was a bit lost. 

“Ok this silent brooding is killing me. Want to talk about it? I’m actually a pretty good listener.” Keegan asked, keeping his eyes on the road. 

“Everything is just fucked up right now and I have no way of fixing it. My first instinct is to run but that’s not an option unfortunately.” 

“I mean it can be, but I don’t think that’s what you really want.” 

“Why did I let things get so complicated? We’re soldiers, there shouldn’t be feelings and I definitely should never allowed myself to get into this position. My dad…” She stopped and sighed. “Let’s just say he wouldn’t be exactly proud of me right now.” 

“Well I’m sure that’s not true. Yeah we’re soldiers but we’re also human Y/N, and that means emotions, feelings and all that gross shit. Look I don’t know what’s going on, except that your Captain kicked you off the team. However I also heard he was drunk and just being around you all right now I can tell tensions are high. Maybe hold off on signing those discharge papers Laswell sent you, for a bit anyway.” 

Y/N didn’t answer, instead she turned and faced the window again. 

The train ride to Sweden was long and Y/N spent the majority of it thinking about the situation. She let herself get distracted and fell for a Captain. It was inappropriate and stupid. She had rules in place for herself for a reason. She should have never allowed herself to fall in love. She’s made a fool of herself and she would never do that again. 

When they arrived, she was no longer allowing herself to wallow. She was angry, not just at herself for her stupidity but at John for the things he said. Keegan wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they made their way to the car, playing up the newly wed persona and she smiled and wrapped her arm around his waist. What they didn’t know was that Gaz and Price were walking behind them and he had his fists clenched. 

“You alright Sir?” Gaz could see the jealousy on Price’s face  

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been a long journey so far.” 

Gaz hummed and they walked in silence for a bit. 

“Can I be honest with you?” he asked and Price nodded his head. “We don’t really know what’s going on with Y/N and Ghost.” 

“Gaz..” Price grunted in warning 

“Just hear me out please. We don’t know what’s going on, and we don’t know why they kept it from us. I do know that it has to be a damn good reason though. I mean Y/N loves this team, she would do anything for each one of us. We’re better because of her. I’ve watched her for the last few months and the way she looks at you, that girl’s crazy about you. So please don’t do anything rash before you hear her out. We don’t want to lose her right?” “She told you then” Price asked seeing right through Kyle

“Keegan mentioned her transferring to Kortac. I pressed her and she told me a bit.” 

“She’s transferring to Kortac?” Price asked with a slight panic in his voice. 

“She’s thinking about it, I don’t think she feels like she has a choice.”   

Price nodded but didn’t respond. His words to Y/N kept playing over and over again in his mind. At the time, with whiskey running through his veins, his anger was justified and his words were true. Now though his head was clear and he regretted so much. Doubt had slowly crept up on him while on the train thinking about her words. 

“You don’t know the situation John. I’m not what you think I am”

What if he was wrong. The thought drove him mad. He told her this just about sex but that was a lie. He was in love with her, and had been for a long time. When he told her that he would never be able to go back after crossing that line it wasn’t because of the sex, it was because it would hurt too much. 

By the time they arrived at the safehouse he physically felt sick thinking of the things he said to Y/N. He thought about trying to talk to her even though he was still hurt, regardless of what the situation was, she still lied. They lied, he corrected himself.

Ghost and Soap sat on the couch in the living room still looking like they were suffering. Y/N and Keegan were nowhere to be seen.  

“Everyone make it back ok?” Price inquired. 

“Y/N and Keegan haven’t arrived yet.” Soap said, leaning back and putting his hands over his face. 

“Anyone heard from them?” 

As if on cue the door opened and Y/N walked in carrying a small box, Keegan following behind her.  

“Everything good?” Simon asked and she nodded. 

“We had to run some errands.” 

“What errands?” 

“Nothing big, just had to pick up a few things.”

“We really shouldn’t be going off alone.” Price said and Y/N glanced over at him. 

“I wasn’t alone sir, I was with Keegan. We were sure to keep a low profile I assure you.” 

She took the box and walked back to where the bedrooms were. Sliding the box under her bed  then going back into the living room. She sat on the couch next to Gaz and he immediately started showing her a video on his phone. Keegan was chatting with Simon and Soap, laughing at them for still feeling hungover. 

Price had to talk to Y/N, he needed to at least apologize for the way he spoke to her last night. He walked over to her and she looked up at him.

“Can we talk?”

She looked at him for a moment, her face blank. 

“No.” She finally said and then got up off the couch moving to the kitchen. 

Simon looked at Price and then at Y/N. He could tell instantly that something had happened and it wasn’t good.

“What’d you do?” He growled at Price who stood looking sheepish. 

Simon stood up and was walking towards Price when Y/N stepped between them and grabbed Simon’s arm pulling him down the hallway. 

“What did you do!.” Simon barked. 

“Stop.” She shoved him into her room. 

“Tell me what he did.” Simon was fuming and he began pacing, unable to stand still. 

“Look it’s no big deal, he just ended it last night. That’s all.” 

“Ended what?” Simon’s anger peaking 

“Ended whatever it was that we were doing. I mean there wasn’t really anything to end but whatever it was, it’s over. Now we can move forward. I mean it was highly inappropriate anyways. I was here to work and I lost sight of that. The conversation we had last night just put my head straight.” 

It wasn’t a complete lie, the things John said made it clear he had no feelings for Y/N. Thinking back on it he never did say he felt the same way. For now though she would keep the last part of her and John’s conversation to herself. Like she told Kyle, they have a long journey ahead, no need to talk about it now.

“Y/N,” Simon softened. "I’m sorry.”  

“Simon, I said I’m fine.” 

“I know you better than you think and I know that you’re hurting.” 

“Simon, like I said, it's for the best. Whatever I’m feeling will pass. Trust me. I’m dealing with it.” 

Simon hated this. She wasn’t dealing with it and he knew exactly what she was doing. She did the same thing when her dad died. She pushed it down deep and threw herself into work. It took a few months but eventually it boiled over and she broke down in his room one night so badly he had to give her a sedative. 

Y/N could see the concern on his face so she pulled the box she had stashed under her bed to distract him. 

“Here I have something to show you.” 

She reached into the box and pulled out two small boxes. She placed them in front of him. 

“Ok this one,” She opened the box to reveal a small skull pendant that looked like his mask with small diamonds in it on a silver chain. “This is for Ava. Look at the back there’s an inscription.” 

 He picked it up and turned it over to reveal an inscription that said “You're my peace.” 

“And this one.” She opened another box to reveal a sunflower pendant on a gold chain. “That one is for Clara.”

He picked it over and the inscription read “You're my sunshine.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Simon love, we’re not going to have any shopping time and we’re going to be home for Christmas. So I took some of your doodles from the notebook in your room and got these made for you. I asked Kate to find me a jeweler that was on our way home that was able to do it.”  

“They’re beautiful Y/N. Thank you.” 

She reached over and squeezed his hand. 

“You can’t go home to the girls empty handed. Besides you paid for them, you designed them, I just executed.” 

“I paid?” He asked and she smirked. 

“What about the rest of the stuff?” 

“Gifts from Santa.” She smiled and put the box away under the bed. 

Simon sat staring at the necklaces for a bit before putting them away in their boxes. 

“Thank you again. These are perfect.” 

“Ok I think I’m going to go to bed, it’s been a long day.” 

“Yeah, long day.” Simon replied his thoughts elsewhere. “Where is the next stop again”

“Ireland.” Y/N said with a yawn. 

“Ok, night.” 

He walked back out to the living room seeing Price out on the back deck smoking a cigar. Soap and Gaz must have gone to bed because Keegan was the only one there. Simon sat next to him, his thoughts running through something he was trying to work out. He then turned to Keegan. 

“She say anything on the train?”

“No, she was uncharacteristically silent. I know things are pretty fucked though. She did tell me that.” 

“I hate when she’s quiet. It feels wrong.” 

“Listen,” Keegan turned to face Simon. “I know we aren’t buds or anything but I think we can both agree that Y/N is common ground.” 

Simon nodded and Keegan continued. 

“You need to get that Captain of yours in order and find some way to fix this because if you don’t you’re all going to lose her. Once she walks away she won’t come back. You and I both know that.” 

Simon grunted lost in thought. 

“I’m going to bed, can I leave the two of you alone?” Keegan asked, motioning to the back door. 

“Yeah I’m going too.” 

Simon got up and followed Keegan down the hall but turned off when he got to his room. He instantly got on the phone and made some arrangements making sure everything was handled before he went to sleep. 

In the morning he got up and wasn’t surprised to see Y/N sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. The two of them were always the early risers of the group. He grabbed a cup of tea and sat down next to her. She smiled at him and slid a package over to him

“This came for you this morning.” She stifled a yawn. “A courier dropped it off.” 

Simon grabbed the package and opened it peering at the contents inside. 

“Keegan left too. About a half hour ago. He said to say bye.” 

Simon nodded but his attention was on the package. 

“Anything good?” Y/N asked curiously. 

“Actually yeah. It’s from Laswell. I called her last night. Y/N we’ve bounced around enough, if Bako is going to find us I don’t think one more flight is going to change that. So I got Laswell to change up the tickets.” 

“What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying we have tickets on a flight this afternoon that will take us home.”

“Si, does that mean…” 

“We’ll be home by tomorrow morning.” 

[cr33pz-mck3nna]

hi! could you please write jason the toymaker, laughing jack, and candypop for the yandere prompt?:3

YANDERE HEADCANONS WITH THE CARVINAL TRIO

Ft: My vers of Jason the Toymaker, Laughing Jack and Candy Pop(credits for the images to the OPs on Pinterest)

Jason the Toymaker

Yandere level/intensity: 8/10

Love language: Giving gifts, physical touch, words of affirmation(receiving)

• Once this man lays his eyes on you it's over, they're never leaving you again

• He will disregard his job for you, has gotten in trouble with his fellow crps for this

• Once he has you he is never letting you leave, will whine if you have to go shopping and finds a reason to hate every last one of your friends

• If Slender was to find out about you and order your death his genuine response would be "Pardon me Slenderman sir..but I'd like to see you try."

• Started making you your favorite kind of toy(doll or stuffie) immediately after seeing you, would send them to you in a cliche "secret admirer" way, calls those toys in particular your children

• He would bring you around certain crps but would not bring you to live in the mansion, you would live in his workshop with him and his toys

• He would not trust you around the other two in the carnival trio, especially Jack, if you're ever around while they also are you are ALWAYS holding his hand, he trusts Candy around you if anything but Jack is a 100% no like..he'll never leave you alone with Candy, or anyone really, but he will not even allow you in the same building as Jack

• This man is possibly worse than Tobias when it comes to his self esteem and needs a constant stream of verbal and physical love to not loose his fucking mind due to his own thoughts

• His favorite time? Cuddle time of course! This man LOVES his physical attention, he's very anti touch with every person around him except for you so be prepared to have absolutely no personal space anymore, the bathroom will become your sanctuary-

• If you ever tried to leave him he would not be the type to kill you, not his precious, never his precious, he WOULD break your legs The Promised Neverland style tho and drag you home, best case scenario you learn to not run again, you heal and live happily ever after(kinda), worst case scenario though...he paralyzes you and takes you to Puppeteer for help turning you into a living doll, his now favorite doll.

Laughing Jack

Yandere level/intensity: 10/10

Love language: Violence, Physical touch, Giving/Receiving gifts, Nicknames

• You were his victim, of course, Jack ain't one of the crps like Jason or a proxy who could've met you on casual terms y'know-

• If you were unphased by the deaths of your friends then that probably would've made him intruiged with you, if you were hiding your fear though...that would've made him even more intruiged

• I do hope you are not an empath because this man LOVES to see you cry, one way or another, finds your angry tears the most beautiful though

• Can be very rough with his physical attention, I'm not sure if you cried if that would make the situation better or worse for yourself

• As much as he loves seeing you cry if it's not caused by him WHOOO BOY whoever caused it better start saying their prayers

• If Slender found out about you and ordered your death, again, I see this man CACKLING HYSTERICALLY at Slender and anyone else around, like they actually have a fucking chance-

• Likes bringing you around the other crps because he knows none of them are dumb enough(except Jeff or BEN) to touch HIS human, will definitely keep you at the mansion because I don't see him liking the victims at his carnival seeing his posessionhis weakness

• Loves bringing you around Jason and Candy just to flaunt you like a prized dog he also loves having someone around while he calls the two colorful men all sorts of snide gay comments

• His idea of gifts are either candy, toys or human/animal body parts so..it's like a game of russian roulette every time he gives you a "gift", he is also the type that if he doesn't like your gift he will tell you to your face but secretly keep it forever

• Probably has a nickname for you like "flea" or "maggot" that he'll call you when around people but he definitely loves calling you "sweetheart"

• Now if you tried to leave then all bets are off. Of course, all humans are the same after all! He would immediately kill you, he spared you when he should've killed you alongside your friends and still you do this to him!? He would never speak of you again and his hatred for humans might be even worse this time

Candy Pop

Yandere level/intensity 7/10

Love language: Quality time, physical touch, words of affirmation(giving), nicknames

• When he first saw you...nobody else did after that day- Absolutely is the impulsive Yandere who takes you immediately

• Absolutely a lovebomber but doesn't do it out of malice, honestly I don't think he knew he was yandere until you explained to him what that even was-

• A constant flow of emotional and physical attention attention from him, if you came from a very emotionally connected family then you immediately feel at home but if you had a more distant family who wasn't very loving then I wouldn't be surprised if early on you broke down in tears

• Probably the most loving yandere out of the three of them, will most probably accidentally give you stockholm and have you convinced it's a healthy relationship until you see Jeffrey walking by and get a MASSIVE reality check

• If Slender finds out about you and orders your death this man can and will drop every form of a life he has built with the crps and go off the grid with you, he is NOT taking any chances with your mortal life

• Will most definitely keep you in his dream dimension most of the time, if you want to go back to the human world he'll see if one of the boss's cabins are available

• He only brings you around Jason and Jack because he considers them his best "friends", if you felt uncomfortable around any one of themJack he would stop bringing you around them but if you took to one of them he would bring that one to you to hang out, so bring them to his dream dimension more

• Most favorite nicknames would probably be "sugar", "gumdrop", "honey bun" and "my love"

• This man does not trust ANYONE around you, somehow has more trust issues then Jason, though he'll allow people you trust around you

• Definitely the "pleaser" type of yandere, is never happy unless you are happy and will do anything to make you that way, even if it means making himself uncomfortable, anything for you

• Definitely has taken a kid or two as his newest "present" for you, will reluctantly return them if you ask him to, what can I say he loves playing house with you, gives him the closest feeling to what he thinks might be humanity

• This man has nightmares about loosing you and his dreams aren't much better as they're always filled with "What if's" about your relationship if he was human like you or you a monster like him

• If you tried to leave this could go one of two ways, he could finally snap and drag you back into his dream dimension, never letting you see the human world again and never letting you out of his sight, you don't have the right to do that anymore after breaking his trust, or he could let you go but believe me that till the day you die you'll never truly be alone again, he'll always be watching his love.

AHHH I LOVED THIS REQUEST! This was SO FUN to write and I hope y'all enjoy(and I hope this was sufficient enough to your request anon)! Sorry if any one of them is a little shorter than the others, I just wrote as much I could think of so I hope it's enough. Let me know if you want any more(or full fics, or a poly version of these headcanons) and remember requests are open just read the somewhat rules/introduction pinned on my page and maybe go read my list of characters and prompts if you don't have a very custom request. Tata for now my lovely little gremlins! -Creepz

[recurring-polynya]

In one of my other fanfics, I made an allusion to a story from Rukia and Renji's youth where she got nervous about the size of her chest and made Renji give an opinion on the matter. I was always very charmed by the idea of it, and earlier this week, I felt like writing it, so I did. Originally, I didn't intend to post it, because it skirts a little close to underage sex stuff, but a) they're immortal ghosts and they live on their own and become child soldiers like two years later, and b) it's really nothing. Teens, even human teens, can see a boob. It's fine. Don't read it if it bothers you. Also, if this bears resemblance to multiple stories I have written in the past, it's because I think Rukia is just like that. This will probably not be the last one, either.

Rated a hearty PG-13 for cussing, partial nudity, and some adolescent sexual awakening

| read on ao3 |

"Renji," said Rukia. "I need your opinion on something."

Renji had been breaking up sticks to dry out for firewood around the backside of the broken-down squat he and the gang had been trying to get into shape for their winter digs. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. "My opinion?" he grumbled. "Is everyone else off somewhere?" It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't heard anyone else's voice in a while.

"Well, yes," Rukia mumbled. "They went into the woods to try and set some traps and maybe do some foraging. But I'm not asking because you're the only one around. I was waiting to ask you until everyone was busy."

That got Renji's attention. This was not the first time Rukia had cornered him like this. He assumed she did this to the other guys, too, but he didn't actually know for certain. Renji tossed the stick in his hand back onto the pile and turned to give Rukia his full attention. She was standing in a funny way, her arms crossed awkwardly over her chest. She looked almost like she was cold, except that it was early September and still sweltering.

"What's up?" he asked.

"You're going to wonder why I am asking you this," she said, her eyes fixed somewhere off to one side, "and it's because I'm trusting you not to be weird about it. Everyone else would try, but then they would be weird about it, and I know you won't be."

Renji continued to regard her silently. She wasn't asking anything particular of him, just stating what she expected. Renji decided he liked the idea of being a guy who wasn't weird about stuff, and decided he would do his best to uphold that trust. He was also prepared for whatever she was going to say next to be spectacularly weird. This was Rukia, after all.

"Also," she said, "you go around with your shirt off all the time. You're the least self-conscious person I know about. You know. Body stuff."

An alarm signal went zinging through Renji's nervous system. It was true that he wasn't all that concerned about bodies, his own or other people's. A long time ago, he'd had to make a decision about Rukia's body, which he sometimes had to touch and slept next to at night and had seen naked more than a few times. She'd become a little secretive about that recently, and he'd taken care to respect that decision and avert his eyes when he needed to and made sure all the other guys did too. The decision he had made was that Rukia's body was exactly like Fujimaru's and Mameji's and Kosaburou's, which was to say, it was a thing that existed but was none of his business, unless say, she needed an injury patched up or something like that.

"Something wrong?" he asked gruffly.

"Not-- well, I don't know. That's what--that's what the opinion is for."

Renji rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm really not sure I'm the right person to ask. I know the old herb lady is pretty deep in her own brain most the time, but if you catch her on a good day, she knows a lot of stuff about--"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Renji, I just want to know if my boobs are good or not!"

Renji stared at her. Rukia's face was beet red now.

"Uh…what?"

Rukia made a little huffing noise. "Look. I know you know I've been binding my chest for a while now."

Renji shrugged noncommittally. Rukia hadn't been particularly shy about letting them see her in her chest wrap. A lot of girls in Inuzuri did. Usually, it was a safety measure.

"I think they might be done growing. I'm worried they're…well, they're kinda small."

Renji ran his fingers through his hair and tried not to look at her. "Seems like that would make them easier to bind, no?"

"Well…yes, that's true."

"It's not like it's something you can control. You shouldn't worry about it."

"I just don't know! Maybe they're fine actually! I'm the only one who gets to see them and I think I may have gotten too wrapped around my own axle about it and I just wanted a second opinion, okay?"

Renji sighed. "Okay. Sure. If it'll make you feel better."

Rukia took a deep breath and then lowered her arms. Nervously, she tugged at her yukata below the sash to get it adjusted properly.

There was now the slightest curve in the fabric between her shoulders and her waist. Renji wasn't sure he even would have noticed it if she were just some girl he saw on the street. But that curve was there, and it was doing something weird to the pit of his stomach.

Cleavage was no rare sight in Inuzuri. Both in the streets and the gambling halls, plenty of women kept theirs on display for, uh, business reasons. Renji could tell the difference between the more and less attractive sets, but he'd never been quite as excited by the prospect of a hearty set of tits as some of his peers. He didn't think this constituted any kind of moral high ground. The fact was, he was just mostly into dudes. A pair of well-muscled forearms or a particularly sharp jawline was usually more likely to do him in. But there was something about that mysterious curve, the suggestion of tits, of Rukia's tits…

"They look fine to me," he announced.

Rukia looked down at them and frowned thoughtfully.

A strange, slightly foreign thought, possibly a stray memory from his human life, popped into Renji's brain. "Isn't there even--like with fancy kimono--aren't you supposed to make a smooth profile? Maybe you've just got a fancy-lady figure."

Some of the color had receded from Rukia's cheeks. "Why do you always know these things? Also--fat lot of good that's going to do me."

Renji shrugged. "What kinda good were you hoping they were gonna do you, anyway? I mean, you wouldn't wanna-- that is--" He grimaced, thinking about business reasons again.

"I might like to kiss someone, someday!" Rukia declared, cheeks going hot once more. "I'd like…to be worth looking at. You're going to be ten feet tall and have shoulders for days and you've already got that hair, so I realize that's something you've probably never once thought about."

Renji stared at her uncomprehendingly. "You think I'm good-looking?"

Rukia seemed to be staring at something over her shoulder. "You're certainly striking."

Renji had honestly never thought about himself in that way before. Mostly, he thought he'd stuck out in a way that was mostly pretty inconvenient, given their skulking and pickpocketing lifestyle.

"You have an interesting voice," he pointed out, drawing the words out as he tried to think of more things a theoretical person who was not him might find attractive about Rukia. "And you're good at a lot of things." She also had a pretty face, maybe the prettiest face he'd ever seen in Inuzuri, with big blue eyes that you could just fall into. He couldn't say all that shit, though. It would just embarrass both of them, plus she would think he was lying to make her feel better. He wasn't. It wasn't even, like, his opinion, it was just the objective truth.

Rukia huffed again, clearly unsatisfied.

Renji threw up his arms. "They're under your clothes! Wouldn't you rather kiss someone who likes you because you're cool, rather than because you've got a nice pair of knockers? Which isn't even to say they aren't nice! You just can't tell! They could be great under there. That's it's own kind of allure. The-- the, uh, mystery." He regretted saying it the moment it was out of his mouth. This always happened with Rukia, though. He was always telling on himself.

Rukia stared at him for a long moment. Then she hooked her finger over the closure of her yukata and pulled it away, staring down into the depths.

"Are we done?" Renji asked, trying to sound bored and failing when his voice wavered on the last word.

Rukia looked back up at him. "You've never even see a naked girl-tit, have you, Abarai?"

Renji wrinkled his nose. "Not…not really, no. Not…head-on."

Rukia set her jaw. "Okay. We're doing this."

"What--" stammered Renji. "What are we doing? We don't need to--"

Rukia pulled her yukata wide and shimmied her shoulders loose.

Renji swallowed thickly.

He had changed his mind. He did, in fact, like girls. Fuck, did he like girls.

Rukia's breasts were small, that was just a fact. They were also gorgeous. Smooth and straight on top, ending in a sharp, rosy nipple. They curved gently on the underside back to where they rejoined her body, like two ripe, blushing pears. Renji could imagine cupping one in his hand, the way it would fit in his palm perfectly. He squeezed his hands into fists, reminding himself that they were dirty and covered in small bits of bark from breaking the sticks. He absolutely could not reach out and touch them, even beyond the possibility that Rukia would murder him if he did (would she, though? He wondered). It turned out this was a mistake, because now he was thinking about kissing Rukia's breasts, about the way they would taste, how he could take nearly the whole of one in his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Fuck, Rukia, put your shirt back on!"

"They can't be that bad," Rukia grumbled.

"They're not, they're really good! Surprisingly good! You should save them for whoever it is you want to kiss! Please put your shirt back on!"

"You're so weird," Rukia laughed, and he was glad to hear the ring of relief in her voice.

There was a long pause with a few rustles of fabric being adjusted. Renji chanced to unsqueeze one eye to see if she was dressed again. He was just in time to see her cross the second side of her yukata over the first, catching a last glimpse of a pretty little tit before the fabric settled over it. A secret once again, but no longer a mystery. Fuck.

"You can open your eyes now, you big baby," Rukia announced, reknotting her sash. Evidently she hadn't noticed him peeking. She wasn't even blushing anymore. "Thank you."

"I don't know why you asked me," Renji mumbled. "You know I'm no good at being reassuring and shit like that."

"I didn't want you to be reassuring," she replied, looking up and favoring him with a brilliant smile. "I wanted you to be honest. Which…clearly you were. I don't know what else that could possibly have been."

"Shut up," said Renji.

Rukia snorted softly. "Do you wanna go find the others and fix their snares for them? I'm sure they've set them up wrong."

"I wanna finish dealing with these sticks first," Renji replied. It took his entire strength of will to unclench his hands and pick up a stick, a long, heavy one. He winced when it broke much more easily than he had expected it to. The sound of it was deafening.

"I can help," Rukia said cheerfully, picking up another stick and snapping the side branches off it expertly, humming while she worked.

Renji picked up another stick, and suddenly wished the pile was bigger than it actually was.

"Hey, Renji?"

"What now?"

"They really are--?"

"Yes. Don't ask me again."

Rukia gave a little chuckle, and so softly that he almost didn't hear it, added, "Huh. Who knew?"

[theloveoffootball10]

sᴛɪᴄᴋᴡɪᴛᴜ - ᴛ ʜ ɪ ʀ ᴛ ʏ ᴛ ᴡ ᴏ

m a s t e r l i s t

ᴛ ʜ ɪ ʀ ᴛ ʏ ᴛ ᴡ ᴏ

Come Monday morning I am physically drained. I don't want to go into the office, I can't face anyone so I decided on working from home not that I can say I'm doing much work. I find myself staring blankly at the screen more than anything else. I should still be in Austin or at least just arriving back from Austin if all of this didn't happen.

I don't have it in me to text my friends and let them know what has happened. I've had some messages after the pictures of me slapping Lando were posted but no one has any idea I've came home early. They'll all just assume I'm quiet due to the time difference, it wouldn't be the first time.

Sitting in the kitchen during my lunch break I pick at the salad in front of me. I have no interest in eating food lately but I eat the bare minimum when I have to. A break up has never hurt me this much. I don't want things to be over but I don't see any going back from this for me and Lando. I don't know how I could ever trust him again. Hearing the doorbell I look at my mum alarmed, neither of us are expecting anyone and I have a gut feeling who it is. As I open the app for our camera system my heart sinks when I see Lando stood there.

"It’s him" I say bluntly looking up at my mum.

"Do you want to talk to him?"

"Mum I can't see him. I don't want to talk to him" I'm stood in the kitchen and despite Lando being stood on my doorstep I'm not strong enough to even look at him.

"I'll answer it but I'll tell him where to go Lucía. I'm not going to make an effort to be nice to him" my mum says pointing her finger at nothing as she makes her way to the door. I might not want to see Lando, but I can't help but eavesdrop at what he has to say "What are you doing here Lando? My daughter doesn't want to talk to you and I certainly don't want you here"

"Stacey I know I fucked up"

"You're right you did but you weren't the one holding your sobbing daughter in your arms. The daughter who was so upset and crying so much she vomited and had a panic attack! Over you! Someone with so little respect for her!"

"Stacey I love her so much I just need to tell her how sorry I am" hearing Lando plead with my mum I feel the tears threatening to spill over.

"Lando you don't stick your tongue down the throat of a different girl when you claim to love your girlfriend”

"I just need to talk to Lucía. No one knows I've fucked this up more than I do"

"Do yourself a favour Lando get back on the plane you flew here on and go to Mexico. Lucía doesn't want to see you and I'm not going to make her see you. I've been in your world, I know how easy it is for you to fall for it when you've got girls throwing themselves at you but you're not doing it at the expense of my daughter"

"I don't want other girls I want her" Lando sounds on the brink of tears himself and hearing his words I silently cry. I want to hear him out and give him five minutes of my time but I can't.

"You're too late Lando. Do yourself a favour, go to the next race and leave my daughter to move on" my mum doesn't give Lando the chance to respond as she closes the door in his face.

The next few weeks pass in a haze. I might be around but I'm not present. My mind doesn't focus on anything and I just shut down. Lando does try to call and text but I don't answer the calls and I can't bring myself to open the text messages, he's even sent flowers to apologise. I've been hurt before but I've never felt it this badly before.

My friends have been incredible. I barely respond to them but they're all still there for me. They'll come over and sit with me but if I just want to sit there not saying anything, they still stay. If I cry they stay. I've been a drain on them but they've all stayed by my side.

I tried going to the wedding Lando should've been my plus one for but couldn't do it. I left not long after the ceremony. I was sat staring into thin air most of the time, thankfully my dad understood and left me to go back to his house without arguing that I should stay at the wedding. I'm a shell of the confident independent woman I was.

f1gossip

Liked by user178 and 15,072 others

f1gossip Lando Norris and girlfriend Lucía Alonso both posted cryptic comments on their instagram stories suggesting there's trouble in paradise for the paddocks favourite couple. The pair haven't been seen together since Austin when Lucía was seen angrily slapping Lando across the face. Has it reached the end of the road for the McLaren driver and his girlfriend?

View all comments

user294 Lucía definitely sent him that cake they must still be together 🤞🏽

↪️ user193 cakes like that have to be ordered weeks in advance she probably just forgot to cancel the order

user935 Lucía has got to be hinting at wanting to forget everything

↪️ user499 my take from that song is that Lando has done something that has caused them to break up and Lucía isn't coping well with the situation 💔

↪️ user935 I think you're possibly onto something! You don't slap someone the way Lucía did for no reason

↪️ user499 he has 100% hurt her

"He's an absolute wreck because of what's happened. He knows he fucked up and it's killing him" Max practically screams at me as we stand in my kitchen. It's the weekend of the Las Vegas Grand Prix and Liv has brought Max over with her but I knew this conversation would come at some point. Max is always trying to get me to speak to Lando.

"No, don't even go there Max. Don't come in here and tell me how upset he is when he's the one that caused this" I don't want to know how Lando is feeling, quite frankly I don't care "we wouldn't be in this situation if he could keep it in his pants"

"Lucía please just talk to him. I'm not saying you have to get back with him or anything but please talk to him. You even ordered him a birthday cake!"

"That was ordered in September when we were still together! I don't want to talk to him. He's broken me and shattered me into pieces. I've never loved anyone the way I love him and I thought he loved me back. This isn't how you treat someone you love"

"Max babe just leave it yeah?" Liv says looking at Max and I can tell she's ready to play referee.

"I'm just saying Lando's hurting as well"

"Fucking hell! How many times do I need to say it! He has no one but himself to blame! He could've had anyone in the world, he could've had a different girl at every track but he strung me along. If he didn't want to be with me he just had to say instead of getting with her under my nose! He even had the fucking audacity to do it a weekend I was there! He has no respect for me Max"

"He fucking loves you! I've seen how much you're both hurting and it's fucking awful. I listened to him and I sat with him as he cried. I think it would do you the world of good to listen to him" Max says holding his hands up in defeat "I'm leaving now because you clearly don't want to hear this and I can see the looks Liv is giving me"

"I'm sorry Lucía I'll phone you later okay?" Liv says knowing she has to leave with Max but I'm not mad. I'm not going to put her in the middle of this. I have no doubt she's heard Lando's version of events but I'm not ready for that.

After another restless night I pull a blanket over myself as I settle on the couch to watch the Las Vegas Grand Prix. I haven't watched any of the racing since I left Austin, I haven't felt like it. I didn't want to see Lando's face all over but I can't sleep which always seems to be the case lately so I've decided to brave it and watch the race alone.

I feel like watching the race alone is the best thing for me to do, it means if I want to turn it off at any point I can without upsetting anyone. My friends all offered to be with me the next time I watch a race but I don't want to bother them anymore. The darkness of the early Sunday morning leaves my sole focus on the tv in front of me. I've got a steaming cup of tea in my hands but I think that's mainly to keep my hands busy.

As the race starts I find it hard to concentrate on what is happening. I've turned it on last minute to avoid all of the build up, my thinking is that I can switch off as to who is in the car if I don't see their faces first. Stupid of me I know. It goes well until we're four laps into the race and all I can do is stare at the TV in horror. Watching as Lando's car hits the wall and continues into the runoff area hitting the barrier at full speed time slows down and I let out an audible gasp as my breathing stops and the cup of tea in my hand ends up on the floor. He's slow to respond to the calls of the team and he sounds in pain but he isn't getting out of the car.

The seconds feel like hours as I wait to see Lando's body emerge from the cockpit of his car. When he does climb out I can see he's visibly in pain. He might be walking away to the medical car but I'm not convinced. Picking my phone up I dial Chelsea's number. I don't know who from Lando's family is there but I need to know he's okay.

"Chelsea? Can you hear me?" I ask as the call connects and I hear the noise of the garage in the background.

"Lucía are you okay? I can hear you fine"

"Chels I need you to find out if Lando is okay. Please Chels do what you can. That was the worst thing I've ever seen I need to know he's okay" as I'm talking to Chelsea my eyes fill with tears. I've seen crashes over the years in formula one but knowing it was Lando makes me feel sick to my stomach, I still love him the last thing I want is for him to be hurt.

"I promise I'll do what I can. I know he's been taken to the medical centre and there's talk of him being taken to hospital as a precaution but I'll confirm it as son as I can. I think his dad is here but if I need to I'll send your dad"

"Hospital? Fuck! I knew it was bad when he wasn't responding. If you see Adam please as him to phone me. I appreciate this Chels" letting Chelsea go I watch the aftermath of the crash. The more I see it the more I feel sick. I want to watch for my dad but I know don't know if I can.

"What happened in here?" My mum asks walking into the living room not even surprised I'm up so early. She's found me in this position multiple times over the last few weeks.

"I dropped my cup when Lando crashed. Chelsea thinks they're taking him to hospital to get checked" I feel numb from what I've just witnessed "I feel so helpless mum"

"He'll be okay Lucía he has the best medical care at his fingertips"

"Mum you didn't see it. He hit the barrier with so much force. He couldn't answer the radio" feeling myself start to cry I think I'm in shock "I need to know he's okay mum I love him"

"I know you love him Lucía. Don't panic and wait for someone to call you. Don't think the worst until you know what is happening. I'll get something to clean this up" as my mum walks out of the living room my phone begins to ring and I see Adam's name on my screen.

"Adam? Is he okay? Please tell me he's okay" I can't even say hello I'm so panicked.

"He's okay Lucía. He's in pain and on a lot of pain meds but he'll be okay. There's going to be some bruising but it's the best we could hope for after a crash like that" hearing Adam's words I let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you for letting me know. You didn't have to but I appreciate it"

"Lucía I'm not going to keep this information from you. I know how much you care about Lando. Forget everything that has happened lately, that doesn't take away from the fact you care about each other more than anyone else" something about Adam’s words hits home. His son is the love of my life.

“Adam can I ask you something? You can say no” I don’t want to come across as needy but I need Adam to do this one thing for me.

“What is it? Whatever I can do I’ll do it for you Lucía”

“Once Lando has rested and he’s in less pain will you ask him to phone me? I need to talk to him” I finally suck it up and decide I’m ready to speak to Lando. Maybe it’s the thought that every time he gets in the car I could lose him forever, I don’t know. All I know is that I need to speak to him. It’s been a long 5 weeks of not hearing his voice.

“Of course I will. You have my word. I know he’ll be happy to hear from you” it sounds like Adam has a smile on his face at my request. I don’t know what will come of talking to Lando but I’m as ready as I’m going to be. I just have to hope he still wants to speak to me.