#Sometimes I'm a little worried he thinks that I am not saying exactly what I mean and think

[beneathsilverstars]

what does the party think of loop being a different siffrin. like why theyre here. likee do they think loop is a siffrin who.. succeeded? a siffrin who died?

[context: Dagger Ending AU]

Ooh yes. Here's everyone's theories from the first week or two, and what Loop had to say about them!

They've all discussed their theories together (though with some details omitted when Bonnie's there), and they have varying opinions on each other's, but they mostly stick to arguing their own if just because they have a clandestine bet going on. Maybe a little gauche, but sometimes you need to lighten the mood by acting the same way you do for sillier topics.

Bonnie's theory: Siffrin asked the stars for a friend.

Bonnie's story is inspired by some fairytales they were told when they were younger. Those fairytales were inspired by stories from the forgotten island, so Bonnie's version here actually brings it closer to the originals again! Though of course, with a Vaugardian twist.

Bonnie says: Siffrin was worried about being left alone, so since he really likes the stars for some reason, he asked the stars to be his friend forever. So one of the stars came down to be with him! But obviously a dot of light wouldn't make a very good friend, so they had to Change to be a person — and a dot of light that isn't a person yet wouldn't know how to Change right yet, so they just cheated and copied Siffrin. But it's impossible to Change to be exactly like another person, you can only ever be a new version of yourself, so that's why Loop isn't the exact same as Siffrin.

Bonnie: I know you don't want to explain to us why there's two of you, and why you're not a— you're... more different than people can normally be, but if I tell you my thee-ry, will you at least just say if I'm right? Loop: Hm... Probably not. Loop: But you should tell me anyway! [Bonnie explains their theory.] Loop: Aw! That's a very cute story~ [Loop's smile becomes more forced.] Loop: That is all I am, aren't I? A star friend for pooor little Siffrin, so he doesn't have to be all alone? Bonnie: I knew it!!! Bonnie: Do you miss being a normal star, up in the sky? [Loop takes a deep breath.] Loop: I miss a lot of things. But I asked to be here. Bonnie: Oh! Did you ask for a friend, too? It would make sense for the stars to pick you to send, if you were lonely too. Loop: ... I did! You're very good at this. Bonnie: Of course I am!!! Loop: You know, you should tell your story to stardust. I think they'll like it better than I do. [Bonnie runs off to tell Siffrin about it, and then to tell the other adults that Loop said they were totally right.]

Isabeau's theory: Loop is a sadness made out of Siffrin's self-hatred and loneliness.

There's stories about people finding "their" sadness that mirrors them exactly, including both fiction that uses it as a metaphor for inner battles, and folktales that claim to be true. Isabeau used to not believe the folktales at all, because they vary so wildly, and surely one single person's emotions couldn't be strong enough to make a sadness as sapient as some of the stories claim — no sadnesses are that clever, not even the big powerful ones that are made out of so many people's emotions that they aren't even vaguely human-shaped.

But, now, well... If it is possible, it's hard to find any negative emotions stronger than the reasons someone tried to kill themself. And it's undeniable that Loop seems to be closer to a sadness in physiology than they are to any living creature.

Plus, there could very well be some other factor that pushed Loop into full personhood! Some of the stories include the sadness feeding on its originator until the person wastes away and the sadness takes their place, which is far-fetched, but so is this whole situation. Or, animating a statue kind of involves putting a bit of yourself into it — your craft energy, your intentions — so perhaps Siffrin had put a lot of themself into Loop, in a way that isn't possible with something nonliving. It would explain the craft exhaustion, too, if Siffrin had fueled Loop's becoming in some way or another.

Isabeau: Bonnie said you said they were right. That you're a star sent to be Sif's friend. Loop: I'm sure they did. Isabeau: ... But it's not true, right? [Loop looks away.] Loop: ... I didn't actually tell them it was. I didn't lie to them. Just... parts of it. Isabeau: Parts of it were true? Isabeau: Which parts? Loop: ... What do you think? Isabeau: Well, it would depend on exactly how they worded it, wouldn't it? They keep changing their mind on the details. Loop: What do you think, then? Isabeau: About… Loop: Me. Isabeau: Right. [Isabeau makes a face.] Isabeau: I... don't know that it would do any good to tell you. Loop: Wow, that bad, huh? Now I have to hear it. Isabeau: Just, promise you won't take it the wrong way? [Loop squints at him.] Loop: I'll take it whatever way I want. Isabeau: Alright, fair enough. Alright. But, whether or not my theory is true, that doesn't change how I think about you, okay? You're a person, and you're our friend, and I'm glad you're here with us. Loop: Just get on with it, Fighter. Isabeau: Yeah, yeah, alright. Isabeau: It’s... I think you might be a sadness? [Loop gasps dramatically.] Loop: Ooooh, how could you~? Isabeau: There would definitely have to be more to it. You are a person, and you're stable, Sif's moods don't affect you any more than they do the rest of us. But... you're not human. You don't need to sleep, you can't eat, you're just... not made out of living stuff? But you're not artificial either, you're not an inanimate thing that's been crafted to move. You're alive! And there's only one sort of... being... that I know of, that's alive but not living. And, well... Sif...... Loop: ... They were so very, very sad. Isabeau: Yeah. Loop: Well! It does make sense! Loop: Of course you'd go for the depressing, realistic answer! Loop: You're entirely wrong, of course, but... Loop: I... [Loop looks down at their hands.] [They move their hands up, to grip their arms.] Isabeau: Sorry. I knew you wouldn't like it. I swear it really, really doesn't matter, okay? However you... got here... you're here now, and you're you, and we're glad of it. Loop: ... Isabeau: I'll go see if Bonbon needs any help with dinner.

Mirabelle's theory: Siffrin killed himself, and he both got brought back to life and lived on as a ghost.

To be exact, he successfully(-ish?) committed suicide when he said he was going to go take a nap in the meadow. She thinks it's an earlier attempt rather than the one Odile saw because: Siffrin had originally told Isabeau he wanted to talk again with someone he'd spoken to the day before — which could only have happened earlier in the day, because Siffrin was never left alone later — and while that could be a lie it also explains how Siffrin knew that Loop was at the favor tree at all; Odile mentioned how confident and unflinching he was about it, which could be explained by having done it before; and everyone agrees that the recent changes in Siffrin started, though more subtly, after the nap in particular.

Siffrin not dying from his late afternoon attempt isn't necessarily as much of a factor — Vaugardian ghost lore includes stories of people being haunted by earlier versions of themselves that they’d Changed away from, so there’s precedence for living people having ghosts. Of course this means there are other major Changes besides death (or deciding to die) that can create a ghost, but the other ways Siffrin has changed don't seem quite dramatic enough in the right way to have been the catalyst. In fact, it’s strange than Loop seems to be the more Changed of the two! But perhaps pre-Dormont Siffrin actually was more like Loop and just hid it better, or perhaps Siffrin used to be more like Loop at an earlier point in their life, and had somewhat Changed but not enough to be happy with themself. Either way, any of Loop's traits that post-Dormont Siffrin doesn't seem to share much at all would be parts of themself that pre-Dormont Siffrin "killed".

Mirabelle: Loop... You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but... Are you a ghost? Loop: You know, stardust guessed the same thing! And I told them... Well, I don't remember anymore. Something about the Favor Tree being my grave? Loop: Anyway, you could sort of say that! Except, how could I be his ghost when he didn't actually die? You made sure of that. Mirabelle: Well... I thought maybe... Mirabelle: Maybe Siffrin did kill themself? Before that? And you're the parts of Siffrin that they killed, but you stayed because... because you still had things to get done, or Siffrin still needed you, or… or something like that...? Loop: HA! Loop: Yeah, something like that!!! [Loop laughs hysterically for a bit, then suddenly stops.] Loop: ... Go away, Housemaiden. [Mirabelle leaves to fetch Siffrin.] [While she's gone, Loop leaves the camp.] [Siffrin finds them and brings them back several hours later.]

Odile's theory: Siffrin wished for a companion.

The final loop through the house didn't include either of the forgotten language books on wish craft, but it did include discussion of the impossibility of time craft, and the diary where a lonely person wished for a copy of themself. Odile initially dismissed the diary as creative fiction, but it was still fresh on her mind when she met Loop later that day!

During the next couple days in Dormont, she asked Euphrasie about how she crafted Mirabelle's blessing, because she loves cutting-edge craft. The conversation turned to the King's impossible time craft, and Euphrasie said she thinks he probably used wish craft. She explained that she doesn't know much because it's hard to find anything more than brief mentions of it, but she's confident it's real. She's pretty sure you need to do very particular things in order to use it, though — not any old wish will do — and she doesn't know what those things are. But it's probably the only way the King could have gotten the power to stop time, and there's a chance that the people of Vaugarde’s wishes for salvation contributed to his defeat (but she's not sure because who knows if anyone actually wished the right away).

Now, knowing that wish craft could be real… it’s strange to think that Siffrin might know about something basically unheard of. But they did know about the orrery in the house, and caring about stars is basically unheard of, too! And… Loop says they’re a star… and the King has stars on his armor….. And it’s risky to use one guess as evidence for another, but that could be three instances where the shape or knowledge of stars appeared alongside the use or knowledge of wish craft. And Siffrin spoke to Loop at the Favor Tree, and supposedly that’s where they spoke the day before too, and a Favor Tree is a place where you ask for something you want.

Siffrin’s craft exhaustion could be a point for or against; on one hand, making a copy of yourself must be powerful craft, but on the other hand, wish craft was what allowed the King to perform craft so strenuous that it should’ve instantly killed him. Plus, Siffrin’s exhaustion didn’t hit till at least a full day after they went to the Favor Tree alone the first time. So Odile doesn’t know enough to call that factor either way.

And why would Siffrin try to kill themself shortly after their wish came true? Was it just not everything they hoped it would be? Siffrin and Loop fight a lot, but they obviously care for each other a lot, too… But maybe even getting something they really wanted could make a depressed person feel worse, if it doesn't help as much as they hoped it would, and they decide that means they’re hopeless.

Odile decided on this theory by day three. There are other mysteries that aren’t as neatly explained by it, like the ease with which Siffrin navigated the house, but perhaps they’d made a second wish? Or perhaps that was the influence of the Vaugardian wishes that Euphrasie talked about? And over the following weeks, Siffrin’s behavior has only gotten stranger, in worrying, unexplainable ways. Odile is finding many different pieces to an unknown number of puzzles… but she’s fairly certain she’s got a good start on the Loop corner.

Loop: Well, Researcher? Everyone else has told me their theories on what and how and why I am. What's yours? Odile: I was wondering when you’d ask. My best theory is that Siffrin made a wish — for a friend who wouldn’t leave him, or someone who understood what he felt, or something along those lines — and your existence was the answer. Loop: … Loop: Same story as the Kid, huh? Odile: You did say that they got parts of it right. Loop: It just seems a bit unrealistic for you, Researcher~ Stardust wished for a friend and one just fell out of the sky? Odile: Your entire existence is unrealistic, Loop. But if a craft has the power to freeze an entire country in time, surely it also has the power to create life. Or split it, perhaps. Loop: … But the king used time craft. What does that have to do with wish craft? Odile: The Head Housemaiden of Dormont believes wish craft is what gave him the power to stop time. Loop. W- How does she know about wish craft?? Odile: How do you, Loop? Loop: The— It’s— [Odile waits patiently.] Loop: The book! The, the diary, in that room, with the— the thing for the stars. It talked about wish craft. Odile: Ah, of course. The diary of a person who felt lonely and misunderstood, so they used wish craft to make a copy of themself. The diary you’ve never seen, because you… branched off, let’s say, the day before we fought through the House. Loop: Stardust told me about it! Odile: Of course. You know, they remember a surprising amount about the House? It's been several weeks, and you'd think between the traumatic injury the day before and the fevers afterwards, even the average person would consider it all a bit of a blur. But they still remember details that the others have forgotten, about conversations it seemed they were barely paying attention to. Even one or two things that I don't remember at all. [Loop breathes shallowly.] Loop: W— What are you implying? Odile: Nothing in particular. However shaky the wish craft theory seems, I'm even less sure about everything else. Loop: Well, you should be! Because there is nothing else! [Odile sighs.] Odile: I'm sorry, I know you don't want us knowing about these things. You and Siffrin both. But he's... not doing well. [Loop looks away.] Odile: And frankly, I don't think you are, either. But we can't help if we don't know what the problem is! It's your choice not to tell us, but I'm not going to stop trying to figure it out. Loop: It doesn't matter! The other things. He has you now, all four of you. You're helping. They'll be okay. Odile: What about you, Loop? Loop: ... I'm helping too. I'm trying. I'm here to help them. Odile: Loop... [Odile is about to say something, but stops. She takes a deep breath before continuing.] Odile: It would help a great deal if you and he could be more open with us. Loop: ... Odile: Can I take this as confirmation of my theory, at least? Loop: ... Not quite. Odile: But I'm close. [Loop doesn't claim otherwise.]

[sturniolo04]

olderbf!Matt x youngergf!reader

A/N: Small blurb of older bf Matt and younger gf Reader. If you don't like the preadded name in my stories, you can either add your own name or not read it; it's up to you- Charli

Dividers: @issysh3ll

“what are you doing right now”

You huff out a little agitated into the in-progress call to your boyfriend.

"nothing... "

He trails off slowly in a way that you just know he has his eyebrow cocked up

"can I come over I just-“

You huff out as you pause collecting your thoughts hearing Matt set his game controller on his desk which meant he was in the middle of a game and paused it to take your call.

"I can come pick you up angel”

Matt speaks snapping you out of your thoughts as you hear his car keys jingle in the process.

“ please”

You huff out letting out an exasperated sigh.

“ okay hold tight I'm on my way”

Matt states as you hang up the phone grabbing your shoes and pushing your hair up into a messy bun and shoving your blue light glasses on as well.

You glance over at phone seeing the quick notification that Matt was in your driveway. You rush down the stairs,passing your parents

“ where are you going”

Your mom asks cutting through the intentional silence you created. You roll your eyes quickly and swiftly turn on your heels.

“ um out”

You bluntly state trailing off in your response

“ l honestly don't see why it is any of your concern because you apparently think and believe that I'm wasting my talent and gifts on wanting to go to college to be a pediatric nurse or doctor thanks so much for your support you guys much appreciated really”

You finish walking out the front door to be meet with your boyfriends face

“ hi”

He greets you softly as you quietly hum out a soft nonverbal reply, climbing into the can seeing that he opened the door for you.

The ride to his house was quiet, you were still fuming at the conversation you had with your mom, not understanding how she could stand so strongly on this opinion she has about your life and your decisions in it and for it. Matt knows now you get when you have tough conversations especially with your mom. So, he know to let you brew and that you would tell him when you are ready to talk about it because that's how you are.

Sometimes you are amazed at how well your boyfriend knows you for one but two how he knows how to also handle your mood in these situations.

“do you want some food”

Matt questions as he pulls into the chickfila drive thru. You simply nod your head still wanting to remain limited on words.

Once you guys ordered and received your food you made it back to matt's shared house with his brothers, immediately going into his room.

“how could she even say something like that”

You groan out as Matt halted taking your guys food out of the bag taking note of the fact you were finally ready to vent like you usually do.

“ what did she say exactly”

Matt asks carefully as you began to slowly make your way over to his sitting figure at his desk, you stand in between his legs as he shifts his loving grip to your hips as you let out a sigh

“she believes that I'm wasting my talent by going into a medical based career but it's what I want to do she just doesn't get it”

You breathe out nesting your hands on top of your boyfriend's shoulders. He begins to gently run his hands up and down your hips.

“Well she only wants the best for you you know”

He replies trying to reason with you as you slowly nod your head in agreement.

“But if that’s what you want do she can’t tell you what to do”

Matt continues as you lean your head forward resting on top of his fluffy messy hair head.

“Yeah I know I’m just so mad at her and am worried she will look at me differently because she believes this way about this decision Matt”

You whine out as the anxious thoughts set in as Matt softly shakes his head to ‘stop it’

“You can’t control her and what she believes or says about it and plus she wouldn’t look at you differently because you chose this path, you are still her daughter you know”

Matt reply’s softly as he begins to pull you to sit on his lap and rub your back.

“Yeah that’s true thanks Matt”

You sigh out.

“Anytime angel”

Matt chuckles out. you let out a small giggle as a thought entered your brain.

“Maybe I should just do YouTube with you and Chris and Nick as my career instead”

You joke softly and Matt chuckles along with you.

Taglist

@mintsturniolo @emely9274 @stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff

@chaoswithus @ivysturnss @ksturnz @spicymuffins03

[the-cooler-king]

Oh sometimes I am diabolical (pretending to be asleep)

[always-just-red]

A multi-headcanon request please. How the boys react when they discover their s/o has been hiding a wound from them because she had it under control and didn't want to give them something else to worry about

Hi! Thanks so much for the request and all the support! Have written a little fic for each of the guys, starring... - Xavier, Deepspace Hunter extraordinaire ✨ - Linkon's worst best baking partner, Zayne 🍪 - Drama queen Rafayel 👑 - King of self-care, Sylus 💅

Putting On A Brave Face

L&DS Boys x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, a certain hunter likes to say things are fine when they definitely aren't...

Genre: A lil bit of angst, mostly fluff + comfort!

Warnings/Additional tags: female reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, some injury details/blood mentioned, teeeeency bit of suggestion (I'm looking at YOU, Sylus...)

| Word count: 4k (1k each!) | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Xavier ⭐

This is bad. Not ‘end of everything as we know it’ bad, but definitely ‘an obscene amount of paperwork’ bad.

You clutch one of your pistols to your chest— deep breath— and you listen carefully, your head leant back against the rock you’re using as cover. Your mind latches on to every sound: each growl, each rumble of earth that marks the movements of the Wanderers that have trapped you here.

You’ve fought worse odds, but then again, you don’t usually have to do it with a broken leg.

Or maybe just sprained? You shift a little, trying to move, and the pain that sears through you settles the debate in an instant. Your teeth sink into the back of your hand to keep you from crying out.

You hope Xavier’s ok. You sent him your co-ordinates minutes ago, and the lack of response has worry gnawing away at the deepest parts of you. You check your hunter’s watch.

Still nothing.

Another deep breath, and you readjust your position as much as you can. Balancing on your good leg, you manage to peer over the top of the rock to get a visual of your surroundings.

There’s four, no— five Wanderers. Stupid no-hunt zone; you’re never not outnumbered.

You can see your second pistol, abandoned in the middle of the clearing where you’d dropped it. There’s flickers of movement, too: further in the woods. More Wanderers. Shit.

You duck behind the rock you’re starting to think might be your new home. Then your watch flickers, broadcasting a map of the area, and there’s the co-ordinates of another hunter, closing in fast.

Something flashes in the clearing, lighting the dark of the forest like a stutter of lightning. Then again. Then again. There’s a blood-curdling roar, and it ends— abrupt— with another flash.

Everything goes silent, save for a familiar voice calling your name.

“Xavier!” you call back.

You peek over the rock to see your partner jogging towards you, dead Wanderers littered behind him. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft as always, but his sword is still dripping blood.

“I’m ok.” You clamber up, using the rock as a seat when the small effort almost breaks you. “You?”

Xavier draws close— his gloved hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. His thumb grazes over a shallow scrape on your brow. “Yeah,” he answers.

“Did you find that weird Wanderer?”

He shakes his head: no. Steps back to check his watch. “It’s probably moved on to a different zone by now.”

“Then we should look for it,” you say, standing up. All of your weight is on one leg.

“Ah,” Xavier ponders, rubbing his neck, “really? I thought we should maybe head back.”

“No need.” And what’s the plan here, exactly? You can’t walk. You definitely can’t fight. Maybe you can wait here while he— no. He’s never going to leave you. “I told you I’m ok.”

“But you’re not.”

“I am,” you assert. You’re determined to convince him and your own, useless body. It’s just a sprain. It is just a sprain. You take a step forwards and stumble, your bad leg crumpling beneath you.

Xavier catches you, strong and solid, and he's holding you like you’re something delicate. He sets you down on the rock again. The pain is making your vision swim.

“You’re hurt,” he reasons gently, even though the truth of it is a knife that’s twisting in your heart. He seems to sense your reluctance: “There’s no shame in admitting that. It happens. Let’s go back.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m slowing you down, Xavier!” you gush. Your heart is split open and it has to bleed somewhere. “You have no idea what it’s like… being your partner.”

He’s looking at you with so much guilt and gods, you wish that somewhere was anywhere but his hands. “What do you mean?” he asks on a shaky breath.  

“I love working with you.” Soften the blow. “I love being with you, but you don’t need me. You’re this incredible hunter. This figure of legend, of everyone’s stories. You can do so much on your own and I just don’t know how to keep up. I mean, look at me— I can’t.”

You feel sick. Empty. “You shouldn’t have to hang back for me,” you finish limply. “You’re you, Xavier. You can fight like a hundred Wanderers and still come out unscathed.”

The blue of Xavier’s eyes has grown understandably more turbulent, though it settles a little. He seems to relax. “Yeah… about that,” he mumbles hesitantly.

He turns around and your mouth drops. A savage cut drapes like a crimson sash down his back, splitting the white of his uniform. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, but it’s not good, either.

“Wha— Xavier!” you exclaim, trying to surge forwards, but your pain keeps you rooted. “You said you were ok!”

“So did you,” he frowns, bewildered. “Can we get out of—”

“Yeah, yeah.” You let him take your arm and help you to your feet.

He leads you through the clearing and into the forest, supporting your weight as you hop along beside him. There’s a murmur about how he should carry you, but you’re quick to reassure him he’s doing enough. You’re both hurting; you both just need to survive the short walk out of the no-hunt zone, where a med team can take over.

“You don’t slow me down, you know,” Xavier says quietly, after a minute of silence. “You’re the reason I can keep going.”

You squeeze his arm affectionately, mustering a smile even though you’re nauseous with pain and the idea that he’s been dwelling on your speech this whole time. “Well,” you chuckle through gritted teeth, “you’re gonna have to learn how to get by without me.”

“Huh?” He gives you a curious look.

You glance down at your leg. “Zayne’s gonna kill me...”

Zayne ❄

“I’m a doctor.”

You stop what you’re doing to fix Zayne with a questioning stare. “Ok…?”

“I’ve published dozens of research papers. Pioneered new surgical techniques. My work on Evol-based regenerative properties still has lasting implications for my field, and I’ve the accolades to show for it. The Starcatcher Award. The Linde Award, too— I was the youngest ever recipient.”

None of this is news to you, and you can’t help chuckling at this change in your usually-humble physician. You humour him: “The youngest ever recipient, huh?” There’s a crack as you split an egg on the side of the bowl in front of you. “That’s very impressive.”

“Is it?”

Zayne stands from his seat at your kitchen table: you hear the chair draw back. You feel his presence arrive behind you as you continue to stir your soon-to-be cookie dough. “Yeah,” you lilt with a smile.

“Really?” he pushes again, and his arms wrap around you as he bends to speak into your ear. “Because someone seems to think I can’t even recognise a—” he nips at it— “sprained ankle.”

His breath is warm on your neck and you let out a giggle. “Keep speaking to me like that and these cookies are never making it into the oven. Or your stomach.”

The man relents. He releases you, not returning to his seat but opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. You glance up at him; he stares back, waiting for an actual answer.

“My ankle is fine, Zayne.”

There’s a sigh as he crosses his arms.

“It is,” you insist, even though you did sprain your ankle at work today, it does hurt like hell, and you do just want to sit down. You reach for the flour you’d measured out previously, tipping it into the larger bowl. “If it wasn’t, would I really be here— making you cookies?”

“Yes,” he says plainly.

“You’re delusional.”

“Ok.”  

Well, that was a little too easy. Don’t overthink it, and definitely don’t read into the fact that he’s standing there oh-so-smugly, like he knows something you don’t. You finish stirring the flour into the mixture, then add the last of the ingredients. Just a pinch of salt, and then…

Where did you put the chocolate chips? You glance about yourself but they’re nowhere in sight. “Hey, Zayne? Have you seen the—”

“This cupboard,” he indicates with an upwards nod of his head. His eyes are relentless. “Top shelf.”

Ah. That’s ok. You’ve totally got this. You move beneath the cupboard, opening it and gazing up into the contents. You can see the pack of chocolate chips. You can get up there somehow, right?

“Would you like me to—” Zayne starts, but you cut him off:

“Nope.” You put your hands on your hips. “Please— if I can climb the back of an alive, awake, and very angry deluge wyrmlord to put a sword through its skull, I think I can make it onto the kitchen counter in one piece. Lemme just…”

Your knee lifts. You make it about a centimetre from the floor before Zayne’s hands are on your waist, grounding you. “Stop,” he instructs, and it's not a tone that allows for any rebuttal. Satisfied by your silence, he brings the chocolate chips down to you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as they’re placed on the counter.

“You’re welcome."

Sheepishly, you spill a generous amount of chocolate chips into the cookie mixture. Your throat hurts in the way that keeps you from saying anything more. You already feel like an idiot, and your eyes are watering, threatening to make you look like even more of one.

Zayne’s hand appears in front of you, hovering over the bowl. You laugh in understanding: giving the half-empty bag another shake so chocolate chips fall into his palm.

“You… don’t have to explain yourself,” he says as he lifts them to his mouth. His next words are muffled: “But you can tell me anything, my love. I never want you to feel as though you can’t.”

You chuckle again; you can’t help yourself. Look at him: your oh-so-serious doctor shovelling chocolate into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at you, his lips still on his palm.

“I know I can tell you anything,” you smile, the ache in your throat receding, however much the rest of you hurts. “I did sprain my ankle. It’s not that I wanted to hide it from you, it’s just—” you stop stirring the mixture— “it’s just that your whole life is taking care of people at the hospital. You should get a break from it. You should get to be Zayne, here… at home. Just Zayne, not Doctor Zayne.”

Zayne’s hazel eyes have taken on a hue of regret. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, buying himself a few seconds as he contemplates. “Are you a doctor?” he asks after a moment.

“No?”

“And yet, here you are, taking care of me.” He reaches for the abandoned packet of chocolate chips. “Tell me, does it feel like work to you?”

“Yeah,” you tease, drawing the packet away from his stretching fingers in explanation; you’re both grinning.

“Well, it never feels like work to me. Just Zayne likes taking care of you. And right now? He wants to bundle you up on the sofa and finish these cookies for you.”

You purse your lips: that’s some dubious wording. “Zayne, hell will freeze over before I leave you and this cookie dough unsupervised.”

He shushes you, pulling on the cord of your apron until the bow at your back comes loose. Before you can protest, he’s wearing the apron himself.

“Zayne, I’m not kidding. I know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get rid of me, and then you’ll—”

“Shh,” he coos again, whisking you carefully off your feet, because it’s time for a taste of your own medicine. “You’re delusional.”

Rafayel 🔥

“Mmhmm. Mmhmm.”

“Raf, who are you—”

He holds out a finger to shush you. “Mmhmm.”

You cross your arms impatiently. Who is he even talking to, anyway? His lilac eyes are locked on you as he continues humming away, apparently very invested in whatever the person on the phone is saying; you’ve never seen him go this long without talking.

He narrows his eyes at you. You narrow your eyes right back.

All around you, guests of the exhibition are milling about, all dressed to the nines and minding their business, however much they want the attention of the man in front of you. A few of them linger as they pass him, like they want to say something, like they’re going to say something…

But they don’t.

It’s a wonder that Rafayel stands out in the crowd as much as he does. You’d seamlessly located him, back from your third trip to the bathroom to check on the bandages you’ve managed to conceal beneath this dress. He’s still holding your purse for you, his phone in his other hand, except—

That’s your phone. That’s your phone! “Rafayel!”

He shushes you again. “I understand,” he says solemnly, notably not to you, “thanks for letting me know.” The call is ended. He takes a deep, collected breath, then looks at you. “I knew it!”

“Knew what? Who was that?”

“Zayne.”

“You called Zayne?”

“Like I had a choice!” Rafayel retaliates. It is true; he’s spent the entire evening trying to get you to admit something was wrong, and you had no intention of giving him that pleasure. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital! What kind of idiot breaks out of the hospital?”

The lack of irony in the question almost breaks you. “Umm… you?! Like every other week?!”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

“Rafayel, I swear, I’m gonna— ah!” you gasp in pain. You’d stepped forwards too quickly— maybe to strangle him, but that’s neither here nor there— and the wound on your side is clearly on his side. It stings like hell: punishing you, and you know the pain is self-inflicted.

Rafayel frowns in concern, maybe even guilt, and that’s why you didn’t tell him. “C’mon, we should go,” he insists gravely.

“It’s fine, Raf. It doesn’t even—”

“Stop lying! You said you wouldn’t hide stuff like this from me. You promised, remember?”

You’re losing track of all the promises you’ve made to the Lemurian, but you do remember that one. Guilt has its teeth in you, too. “I know,” you grumble, “I’m sorry, ok? I just knew—”

“What?”

“That you’d act like this! You’ve been working on this exhibition for months, Raf. Tonight is supposed to be about you. Not me— you. And I want it to stay that way. Everyone’s here to celebrate you and your work, and that’s how it should be. That’s what I want. To support you. To be here for you.”

Your voice has gone timid. You finish meekly: “Can’t you let me do this for you? Please?”

Rafayel’s eyes are wide and still the prettiest things you’ve ever seen, even in a room full of masterpieces and jewels you could never afford. They shine with uncertainty, but soften as he smiles, full of fondness and affection. “That’s sweet. But also? Really dumb.”

“Raf—”

“The only— and I mean only— reason I’m here tonight is because you are. I don’t care about what anyone thinks about me or my paintings. Just you. And you can see this?” He gestures around the gallery. “Anytime. My life’s your private exhibition, cutie. Exclusive access, 24/7, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He steps closer to you: close enough that he can see the tear that’s made it halfway down your cheek. He wipes it away with a chuckle. “Plus,” he adds, “I know you know I’m amazing. You don’t need these old sourpusses to tell you that, do you?”

You laugh tentatively. “No, I don’t.”

Your injury protests as you use the lapels on Rafayel’s blazer to pull him closer; you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He’s still grinning as he draws away, a light blush on his cheeks, but the sweetness of the moment vanishes as his gaze drifts lower.

“My eyes are up here, Rafayel.”

“Yeah…” he concedes mindlessly, but then he points: “you know you’re like, bleeding, right?”

You glance downwards to where the red of your dress is turning darker. There’s just a small splotch, but it’s growing. Shit. You must have reopened the wound.

“Thomas?” you hear Rafayel call, and then he’s stuffing a silk handkerchief into your hands— helping you apply pressure. “We have to get out of here,” he explains as a figure joins you.

His agent folds his arms; this is not dissimilar to stunts you and Rafayel have pulled before. “Fake blood, guys? Really?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t leave, Rafayel. I can just see the headlines tomorrow…”

“Dashing artist selflessly flees exhibition to save devoted bodyguard,” Rafayel concurs with a nod.

Thomas groans. “That’s not what they’re going to—”

“Help me out with this, cutie?”

“Yes, sir,” you mock salute.

A moment later, Rafayel has scooped you up into his arms. Your hero; he gives you a conspiratorial wink before glancing about frantically. “Quickly!” he cries out. “Everyone out of the way, please!”

“For the love of—” Thomas starts.

“Oh, gods!” you shout in agony. “It hurts. It hurts!”

Heads turn. Cameras flash.

Tomorrow morning, half of Linkon will be talking about one of their favourite celebrities and his long-envied bodyguard. A news article will pop-up on her doctor’s phone, and he’ll see the pictures and sigh.

Sylus 🩸

“It’s not too late to back down, sweetie,” Sylus sneers.

“Aw, but you got all dressed up for the occasion.”

Your eyes rake over the outline of the man’s abs, courtesy of the tank top he’s wearing, and it does take the sting out of the fact that he’ll be trying to hit you. He holds his wrapped hands before him, ready to defend, ready to attack. He’ll probably attack, right?

“Last chance,” he growls.

“Is it, though?” This is the third ‘last chance’ you’ve been given in the five minutes you’ve been teetering on combat. You beckon him with a curl of your fingers. “Come on, Sylus. This is getting old.”

He scoffs: “How do you think I feel?”

“Like you’re about to get your ass kicked?”

“Alright, enough.” His hands drop and it feels like you’re back at the academy, about to be scolded for not taking something seriously. Sylus turns his back on you. Moves to the edge of the boxing ring so he can retrieve a stool from outside of it and sit down in a huff. He starts peeling the wraps from his knuckles, and— wait, is he mad? Like, actually mad?

“What’s wrong, Sy?”

He laughs as though you’re missing something dreadfully obvious. Maybe irony.

“Sylus?”

“You really are heartless, sweetie. You know that?”

The words steal your breath away, if only for a moment. Yours is a relationship of pulled punches, but he won’t meet your gaze and that one was real, wasn’t it? He wanted it to sting. “Why—”

“I could have hurt you,” he snaps, his dishevelled, snowy hair falling to cover his eyes. His discarded wraps slide from his hands, pooling by his feet like blood. “You were going to let me hurt you.”

He looks at you, finally, but it’s not in the way you want. His gaze is cast low, trailing over your body and making you feel every bruise, every closed cut that wants to reopen and every ache, rooted almost to bone. You’d done your best to hide it, even going so far as to press make-up hastily over your purpled skin.

That Wanderer really did a number on you yesterday.  

“You should have told me,” Sylus says, since you’ve made it onto the same page. “Honestly, kitten. Why would you—”

“Because Luke and Kieran told me, ok?”

Oh, they’re going to kill you. It was supposed to be a secret, and here you are, spilling like a fresh wound because you can’t stand the thought of Sylus being upset with you. You step closer, scrambling to dissect what you’ve done right in front of his eyes— holding it out to him: this is why. This is why. “They said you had a rough week. Some deals of yours had fallen through or something. And I’ve been too busy. I haven’t called, I haven’t even texted, and…”

You need him to understand, but the truth is a mess in your hands and how do you even start to explain it to him?

“You wanted to do something for me,” he finishes for you, and you don’t have to explain a thing.

“Yeah…” you confirm, bittersweet and still sad. “You do so much for me, Sylus. I just wanted to do what you wanted, for a change.”

Maybe it’s a round of boxing. Maybe it’s a dozen illicit dealings where he needs you to play enforcer— it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s happy.

“Come here,” he orders gently.

You close the rest of the rift between you, letting him reach for you and pull you closer. His knees have spread so you can slot against him, and his arms circle around you— trapping you— as he nuzzles into the warmth of your stomach.

“I’m sorry I called you heartless,” he speaks into you, his voice muffled as he gives you a chaste kiss. He then cranes his head upwards, resting his chin against you so he can profess more clearly: “I do worry about you, kitten.”

“I know—” your hands move to his head— “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“Mmm,” he hums in accordance, maybe even forgiveness, and his eyes close as your fingers card through the soft of his hair. “I lied too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confesses on a contented sigh. “I didn’t want to spend today… boxing.”

“What do you want to do today, Sy?”

His eyes flicker open and his hands find your hips. “What I really want…” he contemplates, as his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt to rub circles on your skin, “is to take care of you.”

There are lifetimes of need in his gaze.

“Won’t you let me take care of you, sweetie?”

…

“If he finds the terms so disagreeable, then he’s more than welcome to take his business elsewhere. Although—” Sylus’s voice is cold— “he might find his other options less… amenable than when he saw them last. Less communicative, too. You can tell him I said so.”

He ends the phone call. Smiles. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”

“Are the boys ok?”

The smile widens, even though you can’t see it. “They’re fine.”

Phone set aside, Sylus carries on with the important business Kieran’s call had distracted him from. You’re half asleep, your head in his lap as he brushes your hair: rose-scented and soft from the bath he’d drawn for you, hours ago. Every bandage is fresh and clean. Every ache has been dulled with a lazy massage and more chaste kisses, for good measure.

“Perfect day,” you mumble blissfully.

“Perfect day,” Sylus agrees.

[inbabylontheywept]

Memories of Grandpa Hank

I'm eating a bag of mormon gorp that tastes like gasoline while watching the rain run down the mountain. The taste doesn't even bother me anymore - all homemade gorp tastes like this. It's just a natural consequence of everyone keeping their prepper shit in their garages. 

My dad's out in the clearing, wandering around with his GPS. He's got some pieces of wire out on top of it to try and make the effective antennae bigger, but it just makes it look like he's dowsing. Another mormon tradition. I ask him if he's close to find water yet, and he looks up at me, little rivers flowing off him, and says yeah - he can feel it. 

I'm sure he can. I settle under my tree and watch the droplets roll down the needles. Awaiting the final judgement of Judge GPS. 

A few minutes later, it provides: 

Turns out my dad forgot to record the location of the car this morning. The GPS remembers where we parked yesterday, but by luck my dad knows how to get from there to our car. Downside is that it's a nine mile walk just to get to yesterday's position, then another five miles to backtrack. That's fourteen miles total. 

I'm only thirteen. 

Think you can make it? my dad asks. And it's a kindness that he's worried, but it's not like there's an alternative. What else would I do, sit down in the murk and cross my fingers he finds me again? Ask him to carry me 14 miles? 

I'll be pretty jelly legged, I say. But yeah. I'll make it. 

Attaboy, he says. He fishes a bag of poptarts out and offers me one as - I think - a peace offering. A, sorry you're gonna have to walk 14 miles in the rain because I goofed kind of gift. 

I take a bite and, despite being individually wrapped, it still manages to taste like diesel fumes. We start hiking our incredibly long distance in terrible weather for foolish reasons, and I joke to my dad that the only way to make this day any more mormon would be by pushing handcarts. 

He laughs. Neither of us laugh again until 11 pm, when we stumble like drunkards into camp. My grandpa has stayed up late to make sure we weren’t lost, but he only stays up long enough to see us arrive. We try to eat a dinner of sweet potato stew, but after falling asleep in the middle twice, we agree to just go to bed. 

I sleep in well past nine and wake up to nobody in camp but my grandpa. My dad left with my sister to keep hunting around 5 am. I know that everyone assumes that their dad is invincible when they're 13, but I'm 28 now and part of me still thinks he's gonna live forever. That God made exactly one perpetual motion machine, and it raised me in the desert. 

---

Around noon my grandpa suggests hunting again. If it was my dad, I'd probably tune him out, but I like my grandpa's style of hunting. My dad hikes and hikes and hikes until the elk get tired and just let him shoot them. My grandpa finds the sleepiest, sunniest, coziest field and takes a nap there, figuring if the elk have any decent taste they'll come there at some point.

Man's got a knack for knowing what elk like - he's right more often than not. I think he might've been an elk in a previous life. 

I go with him, and much as I hate to admit it, the hike is good for me. I start off walking like a pirate on two peg legs, so stiff I might as well not have knees, but by the end of the mile and a half walk I'm almost normal. We make it to the edge of the clearing, and my grandpa finds a patch of grass taller and softer than the beds inside the trailer, and he curls up to sleep there. I look across the grass and I watch the comings and goings of critters through the field. Sometimes I use the scope to get a magnified view, but I never do so with my hand on the trigger. The thought of accidentally looking a person through that glass is something that sends a chill up my spine. 

Some deer wander through the glen, but it'd take a fool to mistake one of them for an elk. A few hours later, my grandpa wakes up and asks if I want to wander around a little. It's a lovely day. Rain comes in bursts in Arizona, and the day after is almost always clear as can be. And for a short while, all the desert browns turn green and lush. Hard mosses turn squishy and cacti swell up like fresh baked muffins and for a while you can get why people settled in these god forsaken wastes. 

So I go with him, and we walk on, me with my gun, him just taking in the forest. He looks so peaceful that I get a little jealous, but it's not until my grandpa stops and looks at me that I even notice it myself. Takes a mirror, sometimes, to know yourself.

Being near my grandpa is always a strange thing for me. He's quiet, and he doesn't talk much, and I don't ever get the feeling that he's particularly emotionally intelligent - but it's like he's interacting with a reality more raw and real than mine. Like I'm watching symbols on a screen and he's counting atoms. And sometimes, just being near him gives me access to that raw matter. Just something about how he is breaks the illusions of the world.

He looks at the gun like a foreign object, like he doesn't recognize it, then he looks at me. He speaks and he doesn't mince words. 

What would you do if an elk came across the path and you shot it right now? he asks. 

Well, I'd start cleaning it, I say, and he waves the words away like cobwebs in his face. 

But would you celebrate? he presses.

And I look at him, and I don't actually see any judgement staring back. He knows the answer, and he's at peace with it. He’s asking so I can see it too. He’s being a mirror so I can see my own face.

I think I might actually cry, I admit. And he nods along in agreement before reaching forward to take the gun off my shoulder. 

Lets just walk today, he says. No chance of killing anything. No worrying about that. 

Right, I say. 

He pops the chamber open and tosses me back my bullet. I catch it, and the relief I feel is palpable. 

Can I change my mind? I ask, and he shrugs.

Whenever you want. Hunt or don’t. It’s not the hunting that I’m worried about. It’s seeing you ignore your conscience.

And for a moment, I'm there in the real world with him, and my gloves are off, and reality is a metal cube in my hand: Sharp and cold and heavy.

Or maybe that’s just the bullet.

---

We make it back to camp a bit later than my dad. We get there and he’s waiting for us. If he's tired, he doesn't show it. 

How'd it go? he asks. My grandpa looks at me, and I don't know how to respond. I don't know how to explain it, and I am scared. 

Great, he replies. It's a shame Babs only has a doe tag. We saw a five-point out there. Close enough to hit with a football. 

No, my dad says. If his grin was a half inch wider, both ends of his mouth would meet in the back of his head and everything above his tongue would slide off.

Tell him Babs, grandpa says. And, not for the first time, and especially not the last, I try my hand at spinning a yarn. 

It's pretty good. But at 13, I still have a lot to learn.

[kaiserthebiter3]

How would the l&ds men react if they find out about you telling your bestfriend about what happens between you two in bed ?

Xavier , Zayne , Rafayel and Sylus x reader (separately)

requests are open btw :)

Xavier

making yourself comfortable on the couch of your guys' living room , giggling and kicking your feet , totally letting your guard down thinking your handsome boyfriend is still napping .

"I'm telling you tara he may look nice and gentle , but in bed?? noo that guy is the exact opposite of gentle , not that I hate it though" , this was a message sent to your best friend Tara while you girls were discussing how the intimate time with your boyfriends is like.

Xavier passes through the hallway and notices your little giggles and the way you were pretty glued to your phone's screen , curious , he enters the living room without you noticing and gets behind you , and yes he pretty much read everything before you finally noticed him standing behind your back .

you were met with his raised eyebrow and a look on his face that clearly says *really?* , "Xavier what--" he cuts you off "I'm the one who should be questioning you right now , don't you think?" he sighs and proceeds "honey ..what is that , that you're doing?" , you hide your phone behind your back , your cheeks heating up "I mean....nothing important? " , he sits besides you making sure to face you , "nothing important?" you could sense the teasing tone in his voice , he's mocking you "ok , ok i know it might seem weird but it's just tara you know ?" you say brushing it off, "lovely I know you're close with tara but.. to that extent?" he asks , "yeah don't worry it's pretty normal between us....I mean this isn't our first time talking about...this.." xavier raises his eyebrow again but this time in amusement.

"well then" he gets closer to you then raises your chin with his hand "why don't I give you two more stuff to talk about?" with one swift motion , he ripped the buttons off your shirt staring dangerously into your eyes while at it "you make sure you tell her exactly of what is about to happen to you" he mocks you with a wicked grin.

Zayne

You've been waiting for your husband to pick you up from your work place for quite sometime now , however, thankfully your best friend Tara decided to keep you company while you wait for his arrival.

and somehow your conversation had took a rather an interesting turn , "ohh zayne is almost never gentle during it" you say sighing then proceeding "but it is because I , most of the time , rile him up" you remarked proudly , tara gets intrigued "ohhh? do tell your secret" ,she gets closer eager to get some tips from you , "darling" a voice cuts you both off , and you both flinch at the sudden voice coming between you , "it seems like a very important topic you both are discussing , but I'm afraid we have to go home" he says this with the most normal collected tone ever , like you two weren't just talking about his habits in the bedroom , tara gets embarrassed and excuse herself , but she does shoot you a look of "good luck" before leaving you two to be.

on the way home zayne never mentioned it , in fact he was asking how was work today and some other normal questions , so the ride was quite peaceful.

however as soon as you guys are in the house , he finally comments "so I'm almost never gentle huh?" he says so out of the blue with a smirk on his face , catching you off guard , you were hoping he'd actually ignore it and never mention it "well? am I wrong tho??" you reply trying to save some face by attacking him , "no you aren't" he says simply , "but only because almost everytime you rile me up" he said emphasizing the 'you' in the sentence , "zayneee" you whine "stop teasing me ok? you might think it's weird but it's quite normal between girlfriends to.....gossip" you said the last word while hiding your face in the palm of your hands , he chuckles at your state , approaching you he grabs your hands removing them from your face to look at you all flustered , but you moved your gaze away looking at everything in the room but him , "darling look at me" he says gently , and you can't help but fold "I'm not mad , but in fact a little invested in what you tell her" now his tone changes from a gentle to a very teasing one again "I'm pretty sure you've told her about what makes you feel good" he whispers in your ears seductively determined on teasing you , you pause for a few moments but ending up nodding to him defeated , "well then I guess you have to tell me as well , providing me with specific details that is".

Rafayel

it wasn't weird for you that rafayel drags you beside him sometimes , when he wants to paint , he claims that he's able to concentrate better when you're by his side.

but the more your boyfriend painted, the more focused he became, giving you the perfect opportunity to answer the texts tara sent you earlier, unnoticed .

"so you were talking about how your boyfriend is such a tease huh?" tara's texted "yeah exactly , this man has no shame he'd tease me at his workplace sometimes" you reply not knowing that you were smiling unintentionally while writing this, "although i can't say I dislike the thrill that comes with it" you add completely absorbed in the conversation , not noticing your boyfriend who's been trying to talk to you for a minute now , he eventually gives up and snatches the phone out of your hand bringing it up to his face "what's got you so entertained that you forgot about my presence?" he said looking through the screen trying to identify the reason , "rafayel don't---" you said trying to get your phone back before you get busted

"too late my love too late" he winks then gives the phone back to you willingly "I saw everything" he says leaning back relaxed , totally unbothered , but rather amused , and this got you more nervous than you already were , you wanted to say something to defend yourself , you really did ,however you didn't find any .

"ohhh you poor little girl" rafayel mocks getting closer , "seems like the cat got your tongue" his hands are now resting on your hips feeling them up and down slowly "I should tease you like I always do" he parts your legs with a swift motion startling you "only then I could get your sweet sounds to come out".

Sylus

sylus was never the one to pry , but when he overhead you on the phone with tara , he raised an eyebrow.

he had heard some very interesting remarks coming from you , of how he left you breathless and weak in the knees last night , all described in thorough details .

You didn't even notice him standing in the doorway until his deep voice cut off your conversation .

"so that's what you tell your friends?"his tone was a mix of amusement and curiosity , you jumped , clutching the phone to your chest "uhh sylus....I didn't see you there" you said flashing him an innocent smile .

his gaze lingred on you for a while , scanning you , before speaking "I wasn't aware our nights were a topic of discussion between you two" he says crossing his arms.

you huffed , setting your phone aside still red faced , "well it's normal , ok??" you explained defensively "girls share these things with eachother , and tara is the one that I go to for....stuff".

"Stuff?" sylus repeated clearly enjoying watching you flustered , he moved closer backing you against the wall as he leaned down , his face inches from yours , "care to share exactly what kind of 'stuff' you told her?".

you tried to maintain your composure , but your face kept heating up at the memory of the stuff you told her "just ...you know??" you muttered, looking anywhere but his eyes , "no I don't know kitten , speak up" .

you huff again "I...might've mentioned...how rough you are" you admitted , voice barely audible , sylus on the other hand was satisfied with the answer "I see" he hummed with dark amusement , leaning to whisper in your ear "next time , I'll make sure there are a few things you can't quite put into words".

[98752-blog]

You normally kept to yourself, a little cold, a little aloof - polite but definitely standoffish.

Soap takes that as incentive to pick at you, tease you anyway he can - he was bordering unprofessional, but hey, he got Lt. to open up didn't he? You shoot back just as much, a little more sharp but he can see your shell breaking.

one day, he notices you seem a little more tired, a little more drained, you're in the hallway, murmuring quietly into your phone. He can't make out what exactly is being said, but he decides to go up to you once he sees you've hung up.

"Look as though yer boyfrien' jus broke up w'ye," he grinned, cute and boyish

You say nothing, your chest is shaking and your breathing is shallow. You're afraid if you speak, you'll just crumble.

Your lack of words stuns him, and you shock him even more when you just walk by him to head back to your room. He trails after you, not much in mind, though deep in the recesses of his mind, he is worried.

When you go to shut the door in his face he can't hold back his comment:

"Team's walkin' on eggshells cus' a ye"

You shoot him a nasty glare, and all the words he wanted to say die in his throat. There are thin tear tracks down your face, he pushes forward, "Hen, i didnae mean,"

papers shift underneath his feet and he looks down in surprise, there are letters and trinkets strewn about your floor, pictures and so so many letters.

"What's all this?"

"Get out Soap." You find an empty spot in the mess and he has reason to believe you've sat there more than once.

"Worried abou' ye." You just shake your head, hands finding the letters closest to you. He carefully steps over the mementos, and scoots until he's standing next to you, before plopping down gracelessly.

"Lookin' like yer friend really did break up with ye." He said quietly, taking everything in.

"Johnny, can you just go, please." Your voice breaks midsentence and he whips his head around and sees you now, fat tears down your cheeks. Without thinking his hands reach out and he pulls you into his arms, cradling your head against his chest.

"Ach, I- Hen, listen, I'm an eejit, a big smelly eejit - I'm sorry, really, I am - don' cry, please." He whispered, heart clenching as you trembled in his arms. When you settle, he shifts to reach for a letter - there are so many he doesn't have to move far. It's from your mother, apologizing for how she had reacted to you moving across the world.

He remains silent and stationary, before reaching behind him and grabbing a blanket to wrap around you, tucking the ends behind him.

"Sometimes I wish I wasn't here." He jolts and squeezes you, "I ken bonnie, it's ay tough life ta hae any relationship."

"I don't have a boyfriend Soap. I mean missing all these big things back home... losing my childhood dog, missing my grandmas funeral, not being with my grandad while he was hospitalized."

You sniffle and it sounds like a gunshot to him, his heart beating too fast, "I'm not there to support my family, I'm not there for them when I should be."

"Ye can take a leave." He says, voice low and soothing. You scoff, wet and rough, "What then? Try my best to put everything back together just to leave and go save the world again?"

"Their world is falling apart and mine is going with it. Theirs is the one I'm supposed to be saving - I can't - because I'm not there for them when I should be."

His arms were tight around you, "I ken bonnie, it's hard... hard to be away from the people you love."

"I wouldn't come back." You whispered hoarsely. the words hanging in the air like a dirty secret.

The door creaked open and his head shot up, "Bloody hell," Ghost stands in the doorway, his figure nearly blocking out the light. His eyes dart from Johnny's to your small figure, bundled and cradled gently. He lingers for a beat more before he trudges in, leaning down to pick up all the letters and trinkets off the floor. He sits in your chair with a heavy sigh, eyes scanning over everything in his hands.

A heavy question sits in the air: Do you want out?

"Sergeant." The Manchurian accent rumbled in the space, you lifted your head up, eyes bloodshot.

"Sir."

"My office, 0600 tomorrow."

"Sir." Ghost looks at you impassively, before directing his attention to the notes in his hands.

The words blurred together,

what you've missed

what you're going to do when you visit

when are you available

would you ever come back

Your best friend got married, a wedding invitation sits unopened, the date months past - a mission in Russia, he recalls vaguely.

An invitation to a family gathering, new relatives to meet, new babies to play with, faces to see, places to go

missed

missed

missed

missedmissedmissed

Ghost couldn't relate, a shadow of who he used to be, a dead man walking.

But he feels a small ache; a bittersweet longing, he may not have people who cared for him anymore

but you certainly do.

And he can spur the smallest bit of humanity in him to feel some regret for you, knowing that despite him not having anyone, he wasn't being left behind in their lives - unlike you.

for: @waves-against-a-cliff thank you, for speaking sense

for:@rememberwren can't write heartache like you do, but damn trying - projecting in the meantime

[shamelessexplosions]

I'm about 8 years late with this but one thing in the Civil War dispute I have never seen anyone from either side point out (and I could just be completely wrong on this):

There is no indication Steve actually knew Bucky killed Tony's Parents

Steve knew it was Hydra because, and as far as I am aware ONLY because of Zola's little exposition scene in Winter Soldier where he shows a bunch of newspapers clippings of things Hydra is responsible for, including Howard and Maria Stark's death.

I repeat: things HYDRA is responsible for. So, yes, Cap knew Hydra killed the Starks, and knew Bucky was working for Hydra. That does not mean, because of that little exposition scene, Cap decided, 'oh yes, in the last 70 years Hydra has only had one man doing all their assassinations, so that must mean Bucky killed Howard and Maria.'

The thought it might have been him could have occurred to Steve, but either way, that would be a theory, and not something Steve has any reason to tell Tony.

For further proof, this exchange from Civil War straight after Tony & Steve watched the security footage:

Tony: "Did you know?"

Steve: "I didn't know it was him."

Tony: "Don't give me that shit, Rogers. Did you know?"

Steve: "...Yes."

To me at least, that 'yes' means Steve knew Hydra, as an organisation, killed Stark's parents, and he elected not to tell Tony, which he is shown to have found out in Winter Soldier so we know that. But his initial statement, "I didn't know it was him", we have no evidence wasn't entirely truthful.

(Whether Tony hears that 'yes' as 'yes I knew Bucky killed your parents' or 'yes I knew your parents death wasn't an accident/orchestrated by Hydra' is ...debatable, but either way I can't see any reason to believe Steve meant the latter, especially since he has already said he knew it wasn't Bucky specifically.)

Why didn't Steve tell Tony Hydra killed his parents?

I can think of a few reasons, whatever side of the Civil War divide you are you can probably come up with more:

1. Steve knew Zola was trying to distract Steve and Nat when he showed those newspapers, so was just trying to keep them engaged, and hinting there might be more to the death of an old friend and get Steve emotional would be a great way to do that. Steve might have suspected it was true, but with no actual evidence he didn't want to open Tony's old wounds.

2. The avengers were going after Hydra post-Winter Soldier, and Steve was worried about what Tony might do/how reckless he might be/didn't trust him enough to risk telling him the people they were targeting killed his parents.

3. It was more than 30 years in the past. If Steve didn't know it was Bucky, it would be likely the person who did it (or at least authorised it) was long dead or unfindable (again, 30 years cold case, no evidence except in a bunker in nowhere siberia that Zemo spent a year searching for when he knew exactly what he was trying to find), so there would be no justice to get, so it would be only hurting Tony for no reason.

But the point is there are a lot of reasons Steve wouldn't tell Tony (admittedly a lot aren't very good or wishful thinking, and Steve probably should have said something, but it is a common theme across the MCU that Steve doesn't always have as much faith in Tony as he should (and then sometimes Tony builds Ultron because he got scared and you can understand why Steve might not trust him when emotional), I'm not here to idolise either of them or say either were completely right in this movie, just point out one thing I see a lot of people complain about). A lot of those reasons don't hold if Steve knew that it was Bucky, and we will never know if Steve might have told him if he did, but you can't blame Steve for not telling Tony something he didn't know himself.

[luveline]

Hiiii I’m new to ur page but such a huge fan of ur writing already, ur so talented. Could u maybe do one with Spencer where he thinks reader doesn’t fully understand how much he loves them so he goes on a rant about how deeply connected he feels to them, and how he pictures life with them etc??

Pls forgive me if this is a weird ask, I’m slightly new to fanfic culture lmao

thank you! ♡

"It's not a small thing," Spencer's saying. 

Honestly, you've been half catatonic against his side for an hour watching Ancient City reruns while he fact checks the conspiracy theorists —nothing feels big now besides the urge to nap on him. You already knew that the pyramid wasn't built by aliens, and Spencer has the facts to prove it. 

He's quite passionate about it, apparently. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" he asks. 

"Yeah," you mumble, digging your face further into his arm. Comfiest boyfriend ever. Spencer's arm tugs up and over your shoulders to hug you closer, your eyes shutting of their own accord at the increase in cosiness. "I do. Promise" 

"Good! Because I worry sometimes that you don't get it." 

"Of course I get it, angel," you say, wrapping your arm across his stomach. Exhausted, you lift yourself up to press a quick kiss to his chin before giving in to fatigue and squishing your face against his shoulder. "It's the Egyptians, we did this in middle school." 

He doesn't hear your mumbling, far too wrapped up in his rant. "Everyone says that nothing else compares, and you believe them, but you don't really get it until you're there. Until you're actually feeling it." 

"You've been to the pyramids?" you ask, more to yourself than him.

"Beauty's just one fraction of it, too. It's a nicely sized fraction, I promise, but when you compare it to everything else… there's just so much there. I feel it in my chest sometimes when I'm talking to you, it honestly makes me feel a little sick, but in a good way?" 

You hum appreciatively, murmuring, "It's a beautiful place. So much culture and history." 

"It's like we're connected, like we're magnets. It's a pull." Spencer rubs the place between your shoulders exactly the way you like. You'd fall asleep from his loving ministrations, but he's starting to sound super intense, almost too intense, a hair's width from stressed. 

You had no idea Spencer was this passionate about Egyptian landmarks. 

"That's nice, honey," you say, trying to mask your apprehension.

Spencer cups the back of your head, the scratch of his stubble catching your softer skin as he talks, "I think about you and me and it feels right. I picture our life together automatically, there's no other possibilities for me. I love you so much and I know you said you get it, but I don't think you do. It doesn't feel real to me how much I care about you." 

There's a subtle roughness to his voice as he hugs you. 

You weasel yourself backward in the circle of his arms to look him up at his pretty face, perplexed. "Are you talking about me?" 

"Yeah. Of course I am. Who else would I be talking about?" he asks, mirroring your frown. 

You glance at the TV. It's on mute. "I thought you were still talking about the pyramids, Spence," you say, turning back to him. "You were really talking about me?" 

"You'd hope," he says, twisting his finger into your shirt sleeve. Spencer laughs, a belly of a sound with shaking shoulders and bouncing curls. "Can you imagine if I felt that deeply about the pyramids? I mean, they're really interesting. They're still uncovering secret tunnels inside Giza with no clear openings or exits, believed to lead to hidden rooms." He squeezes your arm. "That would be a really cool place to vacation." 

You take a moment to stare at him. You don't really get it until you're there. Until you're actually feeling it. It's like we're connected, like we're magnets. It's a pull. Spencer's been penning a love letter to you for the last five minutes and you were too dozy to get it the first time.

You cup his face in both hands, your fingers perched against high cheekbones, threading into soft curls as you brush them from his face. "I love you that much, too," you say softly. 

"I know that. I was making sure that you knew it was mutual. I'd build pyramids for you." He pulls your hands from his face to hold. "You're way more tired than I thought." 

"'M not that tired," you lie, settling back into his chest. Your voice is imbued with a sickly, almost smug type of love. "You're just comfortable."

[cityofmeliora]

the Terzo autism post ♾️

this is kind of an analysis post and kind of a headcanon post.

Terzo reads as autistic to me, especially during his first two concerts when he was speaking without a script and trying to figure things out.

Terzo has that "trying new things is scary and i need to feel like i'm getting a good grade at social interactions and everything has to be done correctly or i'm going to explode" flavor of autism.

[AFTER PERFORMING PRIME MOVER] PAPA EMERITUS III: How am I doing so far? I've been studying these moves so you would feel comfortable. Are you comfortable? Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

Terzo says he studied the choreography for 'Prime Mover' so the audience would feel comfortable. he's trying to do what people expect, and he keeps checking if he's doing alright and asking the audience if they like what he's doing.

[BEFORE PERFORMING ABSOLUTION] PAPA EMERITUS III: So, we're gonna finish this off with something as weird as a new song. What that delighting, or did you not like that? Yes. Good, good. Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

PAPA EMERITUS III: So, I know it might seem a little confusing –it's even a little confusing to me, sometimes– y'know, playing new songs for people who've never heard these songs. But I tell you what– we have a really good ending song that you will understand why it is an ending song when you hear it. But now it might seem a bit strange, huh? Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

Terzo feels weird about performing new music because it's new and the audience doesn't know what to expect and neither does he. he keeps trying to assure the audience that it'll be okay. but i'm pretty sure he was the only person worried about it. he was about to release a new album, so it completely made sense that he would be performing new songs. he just hates not knowing what to expect, and it doesn't occur to him that not everyone thinks like him.

and then this clip... i think it speaks for itself, but let's talk about it anyway. (i included the audio because i really want people to hear him speaking here.)

PAPA EMERITUS III: Okay! We are now officially wrapping– with a song. It's not a rap song, though. [STUTTERS FOR SEVERAL SECONDS] I've heard from my brother that you are somewhat of a singing crowd. So you like singing, eh? That is fantastic because that is exactly what we're gonna do right now, and if you had said no, that would have been… weird. So thank you for not being weird and weirding me out. I'm weird enough as it is. Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

like where do i even start with this. him thinking he needs to clarify he's not going to be rapping. the stuttering. the fact that he listens to what Secondo tells him so he knows what to expect. him saying "[...] if you had said no, that would have been... weird. So thank you for not being weird and weirding me out. I'm weird enough as it is."

he feels like a weirdo and he just wants things to be normal so bad. 😭

he also gets really irritated when people are incorrect / do things incorrectly. he has the literal / rigid thinking patterns characteristic of autistic people

PAPA EMERITUS III: Well, it's getting late. AUDIENCE: NOOO! PAPA EMERITUS III: Yes! It's not a matter of opinion. It is getting late. Sweden Rock Festival - Solvesborg, Sweden (June 4, 2015)

he tells the audience it is objectively true that it is getting late.

then there's the whole bit where he wants people to clap along to the music but he hates it if people clap wrong or don't clap with the correct rhythm.

and the bit where he asks the audience to say "Meliora" and emphasizes the correct pronunciation versus the incorrect pronunciation.

Terzo strikes me as someone who is constantly trying to perform a very intentionally constructed social personality, not only as an entertainer but as a person. and while he's naturally charismatic and charming, it's actually quite difficult for him to perform this public personality because he's constantly concerned with getting a good grade in social interactions and things being done correctly.

and there are all the quotes about Terzo being a recluse who only interacts with others as much as is strictly necessary. this is definitely clinical depression, but i think his autism is also a factor.

he got comfortable once he settled into a routine and created a script that he could repeat, though. after that, he was really on autopilot during his concerts. which is also so so autistic of him <3

[ylangelegy]

hii,

for the prompt game: seungkwan + " its not like i'm in love with you or anything"

can't wait to see what you do with it !! ♡♡♡

ⵌ non-idol!seungkwan x reader. ⵌ word count: 999 ⵌ notes: alternate universe: non-idol, childhood best friends, fake dating -ish. a, i will give you the world!!! 🫰

"You've got to be kidding me."

Alas, you've known your best friend Seungkwan long enough to know that he is, in fact, not joking. You can see the familiar set of his jaw, the spark of mischief in his eyes. It's the same expression that the brunette has sported since you were children on the playground, pulling pranks on one another.

This was yet another one of the many practical jokes he wanted to pull, except you were now an accomplice instead of the victim. "Kwan," you say. Slowly, like you're explaining something to a five year old. "I'm not going to pretend to be your girlfriend just to make your ex jealous."

"Why nooot?" he whines. He's splayed out on your bed, half his body hanging out the mattress as he attempts to give you a pitiful, puppy dog-like gaze. "It's not like I'm in love with you or anything. I just need to show her what she's missing."

"By going out with the girl you told her not to worry about?" you ask wryly.

"Exactly! You got it!"

"I was being sarcastic."

Seungkwan lets out a drawn-out groan. He curls up further into your sheets, his expression contorted into one of childish petulance. It's difficult to believe that the man in front of you is twenty-something and not, in fact, a teenager who isn't getting his way.

"You're a terrible best friend," he accuses. "The absolute worst."

You would be more offended if you haven't received the brunt of Seungkwan's tantrums throughout the years. "I am," you say empathetically. "And that's why you're still here, bothering the hell out of me."

He gives you an exaggerated sniffle in return. "It'll literally be just for a day. You don't even have to say anything― just stand there and be your usual, pretty self."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Boo."

"This isn't flattery. It's a negotiation." A beat. He looks thoughtful, which is never a good sign for a conniving Seungkwan. "Okay― how about you just hold my hand?"

From where you are across the room― your computer chair, by your desk― you raise an eyebrow. "Hold your hand," you repeat.

It's not a particularly novel idea. Seungkwan was fairly tactile― prone to hugging you from behind, tugging you to and fro. Hand-holding was usually reserved for more serious moments, though, and so it feels like a bit of a travesty to imagine it being used in his little ploy.

"Just hold my hand," he prompts, scrambling to sit up. Your renewed interest in the idea seems to have given him a burst of misplaced hope. "You don't even have to― we won't even call you my girlfriend or anything. Just hold my hand for, like, an hour."

"An hour? You're greedy!"

"Alright, thirty minutes."

"Fifteen."

"Twenty-five!"

You huff out a sigh. You've never been able to deny Seungkwan, not even on your best days. "Fine. But you owe me."

You're already thinking of what you might want to cash in as the two of you roll up to your destination for the night: The dreaded high school reunion, where everyone who's anyone is gearing up to boast about their lives. Seungkwan has been single since his tumultuous relationship with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and you can't even blame him for his petty need to prove a point.

At the door of the speakeasy, the two of you share a look.

"Ready?" he asks, holding out his hand.

With a heatless glare, you take it. Your fingers slot into the spaces between his, the same way it has a couple dozen times before this. "Twenty-five minutes," you say.

There's a hint of a smirk on your best friend's face as he pulls open the entrance for the two of you. "Don't worry," he says. "I'm already counting down in my head."

Seungkwan holds your hand as the two of you make your way to your designated table. He waves at old friends with his free hand; sometimes with your clasped hands, as if showing it off. Every so often, he'll mumble to you under his breath. Seven minutes. Thirteen minutes.

You're so caught up in the feeling of his warm palm against yours that you completely neglect one very important thing.

The dinner has started, and Seungkwan is seated at your side― your joined hands over one of his thighs― and only then do you realize. You lean in so that your mouth is by his ear, keeping your voice low amid the thrum of conversation and the faint pop music in the background. "Kwan, she's not here."

As if on instinct, Seungkwan squeezes your hand. He hums a quiet 'hm?' back, tilting his head so you can whisper a little easier.

"Your ex," you hiss. "She's not here, you idiot."

"Huh?"

Seungkwan surreptitiously glances down the table. Sure enough, the girl that had broken his heart is nowhere in sight to witness your little stunt. "Oh," he says, his tone quiet and stunned. His gaze briefly flicks to your intertwined fingers. "I didn't even notice."

Despite yourself, your heart does a little kick-flip in your chest. You clear your throat, just enough to say, "Right. Well."

"Right. I guess―" Seungkwan starts, and he makes the most half-hearted effort to disentangle from you. It's laughable.

It gives you the courage to suddenly say, "You know how you owe me?"

He pauses in the middle of pulling away. "You're cashing in already?" he inquires, that smirk from earlier making a reappearance.

"Yeah." You shift slightly, just to make sure your fingers are still snugly fit between his. With a boldness that you could applaud yourself for, you say, "I want you to hold my hand for the rest of the night, Kwan."

The smirk morphs into a smile. His fingers hold yours just a little bit tighter, because Seungkwan was never one to deny you, either. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, and he makes good on that promise.

୨ৎ * GAME, SET, PLAY ! ( JEALOUSY ) DRABBLE GAME.

[neuvigroove]

𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚.

pairings. scaramouche x fem reader synopsis. scaramouche swore to himself to protect you from dottore, but in order to do so, he must abandon you. before he leaves though, he makes sure to put a smile on your face. genre/warnings. pure angst, written in scara's pov, reader is energetic and childish, she/her pronouns used for reader, mentions of blood, stabbing, and death wc. 1.1k a/n. i actually shed a tear while writing this and listening to summertime sadness. playlist. die first - nessa barrett, summertime sadness - lana del rey, train wreck - james arthur

[2:39pm]

today is y/n's birthday.

i can see her in the near distance, skipping around like an excited little kid. she's always had too much energy for me to bear, but perhaps i've grown used to it, seeing that she's always glued to my side for some reason unknown to me.

that bliss however, will change today. dottore knows about where she's from. a planet far from the depths of teyvat. a globe dominated solely by the human race with no room for elemental power. a planet currently known as earth.

very little is known about this planet, which only causes dottore's interest to peak. her origin makes her the perfect test subject for the doctor, but i will not let him lay a dirty fingernail on her.

we cannot continue to travel as one; dottore will find her if she's with me. i don't have any cards left to play.

i do worry that leaving her alone would put her in another danger. she carries no vision, nor any strength that could compare to the creatures of teyvat. however, nothing is more dangerous than becoming an experiment of the second fatui harbinger. on the inside i know she'll be okay. she can find-

she can find my replacement. a new companion.

my only option is to watch over her from the shadows. that is the only way i can protect her.

sometimes i can tell that i hurt her feelings when we converse. but my personality is something i can't change, and she's never seemed to want change from me. perhaps that's why i've enjoyed her company more than i could ever enjoy another human being's. she understands me more than i think she does.

since i made her cry on her last birthday, i've decided that i could attempt to make her smile this time around. in my defense though, the cookies she made for us to share together were truly detrimental. but... maybe my words were too harsh. i forget what i said exactly... "you wanna poison me? are you so dumb as to have forgotten that i'm not human?"

my eyes trail back to ms. craziness and my eyes widen when she trips over a tree branch. i actually have no idea how i've been traveling together with a girl who has two left legs without dying. i don't notice the tears streaming from my eyes until she looks my way and spots me.

she runs over to me, and i quickly wipe the useless, hot tears. when i see her happy expression, i need to make an effort not to let the guilt eat me alive. i think i've admitted it to myself a while ago, but i love y/n. i'd presumed just as everyone else that i'm a puppet incapable of anything close to love, but if what i feel for y/n isn't love then i'm not sure what it is. i am positive that it is love. when you experience pain, you don't doubt it and assume it's something else. you just feel. and when i'm with her i feel.

"SCARA!" y/n exclaims as she topples me over in a hug. i nearly fall to the ground, but i'm able to catch us before it's too late. gosh, can she even contain her energy for two rational seconds?

i shove her off of me, but before i can say anything, she excitedly holds up a compass-like trinket in my face. "look! a sweet young boy gave me this lovely compass! it's supposed to lead you to wherever you'll be the happiest! and~ it led me right to you! we are just the perfect little duo, aren't we scara?"

i scoff, "and you believe that? it led you towards me because i'm standing north from where you were earlier."

y/n's excited expression drops.

"oh..." she pouts. "well... we can still pretend, right?"

pretend. maybe i can pretend she'll always be with me.

"pretending won't get you anywhere in life," i respond flatly.

"oh, but you pretend all the time," she responds. "i know you sometimes pretend that you can't hear me when i ramble about random things. although it hurts my feelings, you're still my best friend, scara."

what she said is actually not true. i in fact remember everything she rambles about in great detail. like that one time she was complaining about how she hates her hair because the wind blows it in an unattractive way. it was just so annoying because she needs to set her priorities straight. her appearance should be the last of her worries.

"give me your hand," i say. my voice is softer than i intended it to be. when she extends her hand, i slip a diamond bracelet around her wrist. on it is a charm with her nickname for me engraved in the center: scara.

please don't forget about me.

"oh, scara... it's beautiful! I'll never take it off. i promise."

"i have a matching one," i respond as i hold up my wrist for her the see.

she smiles when she sees the nickname engraved on my bracelet: princess.

there it is. her smile.

i sigh. "human, i know that you have your other shenanigans to deal with today, as do i. but meet me up that hill in the forest at sunset."

"oh, okay? scara, why are you being extra nice today?"

"um," i attempt a half smile. "it's your birthday, isn't it?"

[6:03pm]

i pick up the sword from the wet grass of the forest mountain beneath me. it's raining hard tonight. y/n is going to catch a cold, and i won't be there to care.

i walk over to the puppet standing across from me. my puppet. the puppet i've created to fake my own death. isn't it funny? the puppet of a puppet. both abandoned by their creators.

i take my bracelet off and slip it on its wrist. she has to believe it's me.

"i'm sorry," i whisper before stabbing my clone in the chest. i close my eyes when i hear my own voice cry out in a short-lived pain. it falls to the ground, lifeless as i walk away into the forest.

the bloodshed spreads with the heavy rain, and moments later, i see y/n approach the dead body. there she is.

and i feel as if my nonexistent heart has cracked in half when she screams. my eyes close in a sort of pain i've never experienced before. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, princess. it's the only way you wouldn't look for me.

i wish that a day will come where we can be partners again. but on the inside i know that her human lifespan is not long enough to fulfill that silly wish.

scaramouche fanart credit: X (Twitter) : llxx88103769

[wonhaz]

what are we after the grand prix? - l.hs

pairing : f1driver!heeseung x fem!reader genre : mercedes driver heeseung, best friends au, angst, fluff, unrequited love wc : 2.2k warnings : kissing, eating, speeding (cars), skinship synopsis : heeseung invites you to one of his races, determined to win and impress you. but when you confront him and ask him what the two of you are, he confesses his love for you. will you return his feelings? he'll have to wait for your answer after the grand prix. a/n : first part of the series! hope u guys like it~ heeseung gives off major mercedes vibes, i feel like he would be chill like lewis hamilton maybe? not completely sure if i'm happy with this one but here you go! next parts coming soon! SERIES MASTERLIST

heeseung was confusing, more confusing than all those buttons on his steering wheel.

sure, he was your best friend, but sometimes it felt like he was more.

friends don't hug each other the way heeseung hugs you before a race, friends don't wink the way heeseung does at you before he puts on his helmet, friends don't look at each other the way heeseung does at you as he stands on the podium. but heeseung does it anyway, and it leaves you confused.

"you busy next weekend?" heeseung asks as you both sit on the couch of your apartment. "no, why?" you reply, raising an eyebrow, "i was wondering if you wanted to come to singapore with me to watch the grand prix, specifically to watch me." he says, emphasizing the word 'me'. you pretend to think about it taking the opportunity to annoy him.

"will sunghoon be there?" you ask, wiggling your eyebrows imitating a lovestruck fan. heeseung rolls his eyes, "come on (name), i'm way better than that red bull driver, park. if you come i'll beat him for sure." he says with confidence. "alright, i'll come. but how am i getting there exactly?" you question, "don't worry about it babe, just be outside your apartment on thursday at 9am and i'll pick you up."

heeseung was confusing, like how he called you 'babe' just now, friends don't call each other that.

~

it's thursday. you haven't seen heeseung all week, he was probably busy with training and pre-race preparations. all he sent you was a text reminding you to be ready at the agreed time. you glance down at your watch, '8:55' the people passing by on the sidewalk pay little to no attention to you.

that is, until heeseung pulls up in front of you in his black mercedes benz. you have to stop your jaw from dropping at his entrance, now everyones looking at you, how can this get more embarassing? and just as you think that, heeseung rolls down the window, "come on! get in already, we're gonna miss the flight!"

you wince and quickly throw your suitcase in the trunk and hop in the passenger seat before turning towards him. "heeseung! what was that for?!" he tilts his head to the side, "what was what for?"

"that!" you say exasperated, "picking me up in the flashiest car possible and then drawing more attention by rolling down your window!" heeseung just shrugs and now you're really in shock, "we have a flight to catch." is all he says as the car starts zooming through the streets. "don't speed! we're going too fast!" you say as you're gripping onto any handle you can find. "you're saying that to me?" heeseung replies with a laugh. "you're telling a race car driver not to speed? you're real funny (name)."

you arrive at the airport and follow heeseung to your gate. he finds his team and introduces them to you, his team principal smiles and shakes your hand, "nice to finally meet you, (name). you're heeseung's girlfriend right? he does talk about you quite a lot."

you're taken aback, heeseung talks about you a lot? "oh, he does? i'm not his girlfriend though." you say with an awkward laugh. "oh, you're not? sorry i assumed. forget i said that." and you nod.

you board the plane and take a seat next to heeseung. your seat is extremely nice, you play with the buttons to adjust your seat and browse through the different movies on the tv. heeseung sees you and laughs, "first time in first class?" he asks. "it is obvious?" you say with a sheepish grin, "very, i should take you with me to races more often then." heeseung says and leans back. do friends say that? you didn't know, but you do know that a friend wouldn't make you blush like how you are now.

~

after the flight, all you can think of is heeseung. he was your best friend, and you were here to support him, but he made you feel like you were more than just his best friend.

the words from his team principal still lingered in your mind, you didn't know what to think of it. heeseung talks about you a lot? you were flattered, you feel the blush creeping onto your cheeks again just thinking about it.

a knock on your hotel door snaps you out of your trance. you already knew who it was. "come in", and there he is in all his glory. the very man that can't seem to leave your mind.

"wanna go get dinner?" he asks and you give him a small nod, getting up from the bed. halfway through your journey to the lobby, you realize it's just the two of you. "hee, what about the rest of your team?" you ask. "they went out together, i told them i wanted to take you to dinner." "oh.." is all you can get out, and you stay silent for the rest of the walk.

you're taken aback when heeseung puts his arm around your shoulder as you walk to a nearby restaurant. you give him a confused look, "what's wrong? i thought you were cold?". you were cold, you just didn't want to admit it, but heeseung knew you too well.

heeseung leads you inside a nice looking restaurant, one look at the menu has your jaw dropping at the prices. "pick whatever you want, i'll pay." he reassures you with a smile after seeing your expression.

the dinner starts in silence until heeseung breaks it. "how are you so far? i hope the hotel is comfortable enough." you're in shock, the hotel is more than comfortable, it's luxurious. you nod and tell him about how 'fancy' everything is.

as heeseung eats, you can't take your eyes off him. he feels your gaze on him and looks up smiling. "am i that good-looking you can't focus on your food?" he says with a laugh. here comes the blush again, and you shake your head defensively.

heeseung was making you look at him differently now. you don't think you and heeseung are just friends anymore.

~

heeseung walks you to your room, it's getting late and he has practice tomorrow. before you walk in your room, you turn to face him.

you had to know.

"heeseung-" you start, he only hums in reply.

"what are we?"

heeseung is caught off guard by your question but keeps his calm facade.

"what do you want us to be?" he asks and now it's your turn to be speechless.

"i-i don't know..." you admit, slightly embarrassed you had even brought up the topic.

"(name)-" heeseung starts, he pauses for a while, trying to find the right words.

"(name), i've liked you for a long time, not as friends but as something more. you're like the gas that fills me with joy, even when i've just had a bad race. you make me feel all these things that i didn't even know i could feel. all i know is that i'm happy when i'm with you."

you open your mouth to speak but nothing seems to come out.

"i don't expect you to give me your answer now. but please, let me know after the grand prix this sunday. take your time for the next few days, i want a sincere answer, even if it may hurt me, i'm ready to face it."

you're at a loss for words, the passion and love in heeseung's voice tells you that he's kept this to himself for so long. you give him a small nod and motions for you to get going before it gets too late.

just as you're about to close your hotel door, you hear his voice call your name again.

"(name), don't worry about coming to watch practice and qualifying, use it to rest or go around the city. i just want you to be there for the grand prix."

you promise to be there and give him a small smile before finally closing your door.

~ it's saturday, the grand prix.

you have your answer and you're sure of it, and most of all, you're ready to tell heeseung after the race. heeseung had left before you, not wanting you to get shaken up from all the reporters and fans watching him. you made sure to text him a simple 'good luck!' message to which he reacted with '🤍'. making your way down to the paddock, you spot his team principal and he greets you pulling up a chair for you. you look around, eyes searching for heeseung. "he's at an interview." his team principal says, as if he just read your mind. you just mouth an "oh." and take a look at the things around you, being careful not to touch anything. you see heeseung's car, with a big number "1" on it, and as if on cue, he walks in running his fingers through his hair. you couldn't help but stare, oh you were doomed.

heeseung sees you and grins from ear to ear, he looks you up and down, admiring your outfit, clad in his team colors. "heeseung-" you start and his intense stare into your eyes make you want to melt. "i have my answer, but i'll tell you after the race." and he nods, smile never leaving his lips. "i'll win for you." he says as he zips up his race suit and climbs into his car, giving you a little wink before he drives off to the starting grid.

heeseung drives into the 2nd grid position, eyeing the red bull beside him. park sunghoon hears the car pull up next to him and decides to test heeseung's patience. "hey, heeseung!" sunghoon shouts. earning a glare from him. "what do you want sunghoon." heeseung roles his eyes. "ready to lose today?" "hell no, i got a girl in the paddock to impress", heeseung says, diverting his attention to the lights in front of them.

heeseung is determined to win, determined to win for you. the race goes by fast and you had to admit, you didn't really understand how all of these racing things worked. but you did know one thing, and it's that heeseung was going to do anything to win. halfway through the race, heeseung pits and the crew immediately rushes around his car. within a few seconds, heeseung and his fresh set of tires are ready to go. but before he zooms off, he gives you a little wink and you feel the tips of your ears turning red. 55/57 LAPS things were getting heated down at the track, sunghoon and heeseung racing as if their lives depended on it. heeseung was practically gritting his teeth, he just needed to overtake sunghoon, to cross that finish line first, to win for you. during the last turn, heeseung takes his chance and cuts in front of sunghoon. heeseung's whole team stands up in anticipation and shouting at the screen in front of them. the team cheers as heeseung zooms past the checkered flag and commentators going crazy. heeseung gets out of his car, and raises his arms towards the crowd as they cheer. but now, he's more nervous than he was at the beginning of the race, he's nervous to hear your answer. as heeseung walks back to his team, sunghoon walks over to him and pats his back. "go get that girl." he says, and smiles. heeseung smiles and gives sunghoon a small nod. you stand in front of the team garage, heeseung walking towards you, his eyes never breaking eye contact. this was it, it was time to give your answer. "(name).." heeseung starts and takes a deep breath "remember that whatever your answer is, i love you, and i respect your decision." you stare into his eyes with your loving ones. lunging towards him and engulfing him in an embrace. he doesn't say anything, but you can feel his heartbeat as he savors your embrace. you're the first one to pull away but your arms never leave their position wrapped around him. 'heeseung, i love you too, so so much." and that's all it takes for him to pull you into a kiss, a kiss of longing, and impatience. it may have taken a while, but heeseung thinks it's worth the wait. sunghoon watches from his garage and he smiles at the new couple, his team principal makes his way to stand beside him and looks at what sunghoon is looking at. "you could've won, why didn't you defend your position?" his team principal says, furrowing his eyebrows. "come on man, had to let they guy win. but now i think he's won twice, he's won the race and that girl's heart." heeseung makes his way up the podium when they announce his name. his team below him is smiling up at him, but the only eyes he looks for are yours. he gives you a little wink and you blush. heeseung usually likes to go fast. but with you, he wished time slowed down a little more.

please reblog, it really helps!

[yuri-is-online]

(Some more bread crumbs for the Aceyuu birdies) Ace enters Ramshackle, where everyone is already gathered in the guestroom, Yuu's in the middle of talking about something when he walks in. Yuu: And I mean, I guess I feel a little guilty about it, but I'd say the one I miss the most back home is Toby!

Ace bluescreening, internally he's asking: WHO TF IS TOBY?!

Epel: Well you did say he was super affectionate with ya, Yuu

Yuu: Haha, exactly! It would be soooo annoying sometimes I'd enter a room and suddenly he's ontop of me, just whining and licking everywhere until I wrestled him of off me!

Ace shaking: Am I having a stroke? Is this what a stoke feels like? I can't feel my legs and I'm blacking out man.

Yuu, sighing defeated: Aw, but then he'd look at me with those big sad brown eyes and I end up letting him do it all over again.

Deuce, laughing: Who knew you had a weakness for puppydog eyes

Ace: EXCUSE ME?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! THAT'S ALL YOU GOTTA SAY?! YUU! I EXPECTED MORE OF A BACKBONE FROM YOU! WHY'RE YOU LETTING HIM GET AWAY WITH THAT KINDA STUFF?!

Yuu, beweildered, genuinely didn't realise Ace had arrived: Who? You mean let Toby...the boxer?

Ace, momentarily doing the quick maths about his chances against a boxer: I don't care what his job is, you can't be letting guys do stuff like that to you! I don't care how good looking you think they are!

At this point, the boys begin cracking up a little, which only pisses Ace more. Even Yuu looks like their trying so hard not to laugh at him, their eyes a mix of pity and adoration (he hopes that's what he's seeing, at least) before they explain; Toby the boxer, as in the boxer breed of dog. Yuu was talking about their family pet(s) back home. Ace tries to cover for himself, saying how he totally knew that but Yuu isn't even listning to his excuses anymore because now it's Grim throwing a tantrum about how could you miss a mangey mutt when you have the Great Grim sitting on your lap?! But don't worry Ace, the guys will make sure nobody forgets this little outburst.

OR something, after we had to put our dog down a few years ago, my dad's finally in a place where he's looking for a new one so I'm just thinking about dogs now uwu

This ask is old but I hope everything went well with the search, it was my roommate's dog's birthday today so this ask as been on my mind for a hot second. Toby is such a cute name for a boxer it's literally perfect.

Listen, this is all your fault, that's going to be Ace's stance on this. If you weren't such a headache to look after, then he never would have thought that you would let someone do something like that to you and he would have automatically known it was a dog. Really now what do you take him for?

"Jealous." You're smiling as if you find the thought amusing. "It sounded like you were jelous."

"Oh please," you have him dead to rights, but he's not going to say that out loud "only Grim would get fussy about you having a dog." Because really he's not jealous of the dog. If anything he thinks it's cute, so the prefect is an animal person; just like a proper beast tamer, look at you!

No what makes him jealous is the thought he can't give you any of that back no matter how much he wants to. His family doesn't have any pets, but from the way his classmates talk about them he knows that's not a bond you can really just replace. And he wouldn't want to, Ace wants what you have to be unique to the two of you and not a replacement for what came before.

Guess that means he'll have to learn about how to take care of a dog huh. He can do that... just not when the guys are around they're already giving him a hard enough time.

[vendetta-if]

Hi! Sorry if you've already answered this but what does each RO feel and think about MC path of either Justice or Revenge? (Heir path)

(Love to see what everyone else thinks as well)

I'm just curious to know what Rin truly thinks about MC going for revenge, because I feel like he's a bit reluctant? But also, an heir to a crime family going for justice? (Giving him over to the police after getting enough evidence to convict him) I can't really see him approve that, either.

I'm also curious of what their "preferred" heir MC is, Ruthless or Merciful, admired or feared etc.

Am definitely curious to know how that affects Ash as well. I love my little psycho MC (Definitely some Jinx vibes going on there) but then I get concerned and worried when I see Ash being like "Whoa, so cool! Never seen a body rain blood before, awesome! Whoo, murder! 🥳"

Then i'm like "Wait... No, this is bad Ash, BAD! Blood rain isn't awesome! It's horrifying! It's literally what happens in the APOCALYPSE! That's it, we're going to have a long talk when we get home about Wrong and Right!"

...then later when she gets her birthday present she'll giddily ask Luka if she can try torturing him too 😭

I feel so conflicted when Ash asks MC about what she will do with the killer... Then says what he wants, which is exactly the same, so I can't really tell him not to do the same... But it makes me so concerned every time, and guilty.

I don't want to bring my sweet, beloved firecracker down and even darker path than the one we're already on 😭

Ash and Rin prefer revenge to justice (letting the justice system do what it was supposed to do a long time ago). Probably because of the families and environment that they’re both raised and live in, they believe retaliation against such personal slight should be taken into their own hands.

However, whereas Ash’s revenge might be explosive and impulsive as they chase the quickest way to personally get their hands on the one who wronged them, Rin’s revenge is cold and calculating.

It’s full of reckoning, scheming, and pulling of strings behind the scenes and they’re content to let others to do the dirty work. They don’t really care about seeing the one who wronged them face-to-face and kill them with their own hands like Ash does.

That doesn’t make their revenge less personal though, and dare I say, sometimes, their revenge ends up being more drawn-out and torturous for the poor schmuck. The true definition of “revenge is a dish best served cold”.

And Rin does prefer Ruthless MC in the sense that they both have a more similar mindset. Of course, they’ll still love Merciful MC the same, but being with such kind MC makes them highly protective of them since they don’t want to see them get hurt or taken advantage of.

They’ll do whatever it takes to keep MC safe behind MC’s back, doing the necessary things that Merciful MC might not have the heart to do themself. Same thing with Ash as well, which is why in the Ash/MC/Rin poly, Ash and Rin will actually become really close and trusted confidantes of each other because they—almost all of the time—have the same mindset and overarching goal.

Santana and Skylar, of course, prefer justice and letting the right people dispense due punishment. Although, a more cynical Santana might not be too opposed to MC having revenge as well since they’ve seen firsthand how corrupt and sometimes incompetent the system is; they can’t really blame MC and the Morozovs to want to take matters into their own hands.

And as for your last sentence about Ash… 🥺 They’ll gladly walk with MC down a darker path. They actually feel they are already walking down that path a long time ago, especially since they accepted working as the Family’s enforcer… 😥

[creepswrites]

Hi, I just read your hcs about reader struggling with anxiety and depression, it was really great! I am also sorry you're going through tough times rn, I really really hope you'll feel better soon. Tbh I've been going through something myself and reading the Sinclair brothers' hcs, it reminded me of an idea I've wanted to eequest for a long while. I would like to request for the Siclair brothers (separately) x gn!reader headcanons where the reader struggles with mental health issues, but since they don't really leave Ambrose they can't get to their medication. How would they approach the brothers about it, would they hide it, how would the brothers react, you know.

Of course you can work on this when you feel like it, if you're not feeling like it with what's going on in your life. Or scrap the idea altogether, or add whoever you want. Thank you so much for letting me get my thoughts out tho <3 You are valid. You are loved. You are seen.

thank you for the kind wishes, i do appreciate it :) i tried to keep this relatively inclusive as to what exactly reader is suffering from but some stuff may be a lil specific. and don't worry, writing helps distract me so i'm happy to do this <3

SINCLAIR BROTHERS x GN! READER WHO NEEDS THEIR MEDICATION

BO SINCLAIR

You absolutely tried to hide it at first. How could you not?

Bo wasn't exactly... understanding about that kind of thing

I mean, you've seen how he acts with Vincent sometimes and thats his own brother. You don't want to imagine how he'd treat you if he knew...

But you knew the longer you went without your prescriptions, the more difficult things would get

It started small. Your moods would change randomly and very drastically - one extreme to another or you'd have trouble sleeping or oversleeping or - your least favorite - you'd lash out at one of the brothers for seemingly nothing

Bo noticed. He didn't say anything about it because he assumed that, if it was that important, you'd tell him

So when you had a full on meltdown on the kitchen floor one afternoon, he was blindsided

He had no idea it'd gotten this bad and, unfortunately, his first reaction was to get mad at you. He yelled at you, tried to get you to pull yourself together. After all, if you had been suffering, you would've told him! Right...?

It's not until your crying abruptly stops that he realizes he fucked up. You shut down on him, near catatonic as he tries to apologize

He's scared. And when he's scared, he lashes out. You know that. It still doesn't make it hurt less

The brothers agree that there needs to be regular trips made so you can get your medication. Lester offers to take you since he's the one who goes to town the most anyways

You and Bo get into an argument about it once or twice because he doesn't understand why you wouldn't tell him

His heart breaks a little when you tell him you didn't think he'd believe you or would look at you differently for it

He reassures you that no, never. He totally understands the moodswings, the angry episodes you have, those things

Once you're on your meds again, you two promise that if anything major like this happens for either of you, that you can always lean on each other

Bo takes time getting there but he grows to understand you and figure out how best to help you!

VINCENT SINCLAIR

You tell Vincent pretty early on that you need medication

While you don't give him many specifics as to why, you tell him that life will be better for all of you if you keep taking them

At first he's a little apprehensive of letting you go into town so Bo goes with you to pick it up

Not because he doesn't believe you! But because he's scared you're still trying to escape

He wants to know what they're for so he's not above snooping around to read the labels

(You'd tell him if he asked but he didn't know that)

The amount you take surprises him and he tries to think about what you're like off them, in a morbidly curious way

He is, however, insistent that you're taking them consistently and without interruption. Vince makes sure you take them every day and gets on his brother's cases if they give you a hard time about it

They're not cures though. You both find that out the hard way when he finds you trembling in the corner of his shop like you were in freezing weather. The panic attack was violent and took you by surprise but Vincent holds steady

He sits with you, humming soft melodies to try and ground you

When you're ready, he hugs you and you just break down into tears. You'd never wanted him to have to see you like this, you don't want him to think you're some fragile china doll who can't take care of themself

But he would never see you like that. You explain that, while the meds make them less frequent, you're not cured completely

Things will slip through the cracks sometimes and that's okay! He'll always be there when you need him

When he catches you scratching yourself anxiously, he buys you gloves and makes sure you keep your nails short

He catches you picking at your face and gets you small bandages you can place over the spots so you don't obsessively pick

Vincent is always doing little things to try and improve your quality of life, even if you're taking medication!

LESTER SINCLAIR

You don't really tell him but you also don't hide it from him either

He notices you taking pills every morning and every night and is able to put two and two together

Probably asks you what they're for once you two have been dating for a bit but it doesn't really change much in your relationship

He's relatively chill about it though and offers to take you into town to pick up your meds

Likes to hoard pills for you so you never run out - it's an irrational fear of his but you think its sweet

Whenever you get sad, Jonesy and Lester are both right there to comfort you however you need

Sometimes, when the bad thoughts get too loud, Lester catches you staring vacantly into the bathroom mirror or out windows and he worries

One night you wandered out into the woods, barefoot and freezing, just because you felt so out of touch with your own body

Everything felt fake and floaty and you just needed to be out somewhere harsh and grounding and real

You love Lester, you really do, but there, in the forest all alone, all you could think about was how empty you felt

He finds you early the next morning and he was clearly worried sick, still in his sleep clothes with just a flashlight and an anxious Jonesy

Once at home and warm from your shower, he pleads with you to talk to him about it

You finally spill about how you've felt completely dissociated from yourself, even with all the meds you're taking, and it just got to be too much

He gives you a hug and you both agree to try and find other ways to shock you back to reality that don't involve you wandering into the forest at night

Turns out, an ice cube on the back of the neck works wonders to snap you out of whatever stupor you've found yourself in!

Lester is as involved with it as you'd let him. Never ashamed or afraid to lend you a hand with anything!