#but for now i just have to say how fucking excited i am that the fight choreography (hand to hand & sabers) has DELIVERED

[fangsandfeels]

Playing Veilguard and making it everyone's problem

I am going to rant, and I will rant a lot, and there will be spoilers, so if you're not afraid of them and the game criticism, buckle up.

Elves and their gods

I am absolutely fucking livid about how Veilguard handles the Dalish and elves in general. The events of Trespasser made it clear that the elves started flocking over to Solas, including the elves working for the Inquisition:

After the events at the Winter Palace, elves left the Inquisition under mysterious circumstances, as did elven servants across Thedas. None could say where they went, but those who believed the Inquisitor's story about Fen'Harel wondered just how large the Dread Wolf's forces were... and what the ancient elven rebel had planned.

Solas had multiple spies working for him during Trespasser, and If I remember correctly, there was even a note, left by one of the elves - they were anticipating the great change and the return of the elven glory. Anyways, the established fact is that: elves learned that the stories about their gods were true and one of them now was going to restore the world as it used to be. At least, this is how they interpreted it (maybe, this is the version Solas didn't debunk) and so they started following him.

You might think, the Inquisitor and their allies are going to have a huge problem with breaking it to elves that their chosen leader isn't going to make things better and that their gods don't love them. Especially, if the Inquisitor is a human or anyone who isn't an elf. You'd imagine any attempts will end in failure because of course elves aren't going to listen to outsiders trying to explain their own culture and gods to them. You'd imagine that their trauma caused by centuries of oppression and discrimination will make it impossible for the Inquisitor and anyone else to make them see the truth.

You'd assume anyone who tries to find and stop Solas will be sabotaged every step of the way, feeling themselves horrible for having to clash with people desperate for a chance of a life without injustice - even if it means burning the rest of the world down.

You'd imagine that they will only change their mind if/when they see the harm done by Solas' actions and get to witness their gods true intentions by themselves - which would lead to a massive crisis of faith and schisms happening between elven tribes and groups.

You'd imagine will get all this incredible drama in the Veilguard, with elves initially resisting the group's attempts to stop Solas, then trying to pull themselves together after the revelation. You'd assume there will be zealous groups doubting Solas (because the Dreadwolf is a liar and a deceiver) and intending to use him to actually free the elven gods. You'd think this is how actually some of them get out.

But, NOPE. Not only Solas ends up working alone, with none of his followers throwing themselves at Rook and the party to buy him time, but also all elves now hate Solas because...Varric said so?

You meet a group of Veil Jumpers (elves devoted to exploring their ancient culture and history, learning more about their gods and reclaiming their heritage) and their leader instantly calls Solas an asshole. Based on WHAT?

I get it, Varric had met them before and told them that Solas was Fen'Harel...

(needless to say if you expect players to find and read other media in order to make sense of the events in the game, you are doing something wrong)

...but why were they so fucking calm about it, instantly eating up the "yep, he's bad" version? Even if the Dread Wolf is vilified in the Dalish mythology, wouldn't they be curious about what that means? Wouldn't they have gotten tempted or excited by the implication that other gods exist too? They weren't told the full story - why the fuck did they instantly accept the "Solas is an asshole" narrative? Especially when Solas comes with a promise of a world for the elves like it was meant to be?

WHY?

The Veilguard has no response for that. I guess, Dalish never cared about their history and traditions, and city elves were dandy about Alienages and oppression, so they easily believed some randos over a literal god promising a new, better world.

I don't even play Dalish, but I love their plotline and arcs - and I was bracing myself for some downright painful choices and conflicts during the next Dragon Age. But it felt like the writers couldn't be bothered with developing such a nuanced narrative, so they just waved it all down with "Nah, elves are chill now and they never really cared about their gods in the first place".

[whorelaud]

꒦꒷ 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 birthday sex ¿¡

pairing bf¡drew starkey x fem¡reader

summary just reader dealing with horny drew while hes away on his birthday

contatins fluff, slightly suggestive, age gap, drew texting like an old man!!

a/n little birthday texting oneshot because i love him so much agh!!

word count 702

ml <3: Where is my happy birthday?

You grinned, perking up when you noticed the message you received from your boyfriend. You typed in a quick response, knowing how sulky he gets when you take long to reply, especially when he’s away. 

You: okay damn straight to the point

You: it hasnt even turned 12 yet :( 

ml <3: Gurl 

You: men used to go to the war

You: now they have sass competitions w/ their girlfriends 😒

ml <3: Lolll 

ml <3: That’s not funny

You: why are you loling then old man

ml <3:: Hey! I’m not that old

You: well

You: u JUST turned 31 

You: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABYYY I LOVE YOU

You: I wish I can see you :( 

ml <3: Hahaha thank youuuu!

ml <3: I love you beautiful 

ml <3: I can't wait to land I miss my pretty girlfriend 

You: stawppp blushes like a slut

ml <3: ??? Excuse me! 

ml <3: Proof? Send picture

You: u nasty

You: are u into that degrading shit

ml <3: I mean

ml <3: I don’t mind it 

ml <3: If you like it then I do and if you don't then it’s okay. Either way I am happy as long as you’re content baby!

You: stop why’d u take that so srsly i was joking

You: is this the perks of turning 31

ml <3: Ugh 🙄

ml <3: You always do this!

You: ugh ure so cute i cant believe ure 21

You: 31* oops

ml <3: Are you shaming me for growing now?

You: no i love u

ml <3: You* 

You: i have a surprise for u

You: i cant wait for u to land 

ml <3: YOU HAVE A SURPRISE FOR ME??? 😇

You: yeahahh 

ml <3: What is it

ml <3: Please show me Please Pleaseeeeee

You: its a surprise i cant :( when u get home i swear!

ml <3: Did you get me condoms? 

You: pardon me!

You: when have i ever gotten you condoms for ur birthday

ml <3: 😏

You: get that skunky face off my screen

ml <3: 😒

You: LMAO 

ml <3: Tell me!

You: i cant baby that will ruin the surprise 

ml <3: Are you like… 

You: ??? am i what

ml <3: did you actually get me condoms

You: why do u keep bringing up the condoms is it on ur birthday wishlist or something

ml <3: It’s not a bad present 

You: DREW. 

ml <3: Can we fuck when I get back

You: oh

ml <3: Ugh I miss you

ml <3: Jus’ thought about fucking you and now I’m horny

You: are u like

ml <3: Am I what baby

You: are u trolling ahaha is this a joke

ml <3: …

You: drew omff

You: why would you say that

ml <3: Sorry baby

ml <3: Fuck I miss your lips

You: which ones

You: i take that back please dont answer

ml <3: Both

ml <3: Can we have birthday sex please

You: hello??? where did that come from

ml <3:: Sorry I’m horny

ml <3: Do you think it feels different from normal sex

You: well if i had to guess it would probably be more thrilling, maybe?

ml <3: We should test out that theory

ml <3: Verify whether it’s true 

You: shush omg

You: u suck

ml <3: My dick

ml <3: can you suck my dick when I’m back

You: omg shut up

ml <3: Is that a no? :( 

You: yeah… ur 31!!! too old 4 me

ml <3: Nah you're right I could be your father

You: k its not that bad

You: it’s only 4 years

ml <3: 6*

ml <3: actually

ml <3: 7 now what the fuck

You: STOPP 

You: ure so cute please marry me 

ml <3: Lol 

ml <3: I’m horny

You: drew omg

ml <3: Should I rub one out in the plane bathroom?

You: 🤦‍♀️

You: just wait until ure back 

ml <3: Wait

ml <3: WAIT AXTUALLY? 

You: WHAT

ml <3: ARE YOU BEING SERIOUS

ml <3: Omg I am so Excited 

You: loser 

ml <3: So, birthday sex yeah?

You: i hate you

ml <3: i love you too baby 

[kingofthecotas]

postscript | ao3

future fic | ~1.5k words

love writing post-reconciliation with no idea how they got there

——

Marc gets in three and a half hours after he was supposed to.

Storms in Japan meant a delayed flight out of Tokyo, a missed connection in Doha, and landing in Rimini just after two in the morning. By the time he collects his bag, finds his car, and makes the drive home, he’s ready to sleep for the next twelve hours.

The house is mostly dark when he opens the front door, holding his breath as if that’s going to make him any quieter, and gently slides his keys onto the hall table. There’s a light on in the living room, though, and he slips down the hallway, leaving his suitcase by the door.

He hasn’t had enough time here yet, caught in the winds of a busy season, but there’s traces of him: Ducati cap slung on the coatrack; a pair of cycling shoes under the stairs, the decorative glass jar filled with the peppered colours of Aragón stones—they’d given it to him on the podium along with his trophy, said this place is yours, and he’d had to bite back tears.

He throws his coat over the banisters, over a BMW WRT jacket, and follows the warm light down the hall.

Valentino is sitting up on the sofa—well, propped up by his loosely balled hand against his cheek, knuckles pressed into his face. The throw blanket, the one he hates, is twisted around his thighs; Marc had snagged it from the household section of some English supermarket, and Valentino likes to complain that it shits fluff everywhere, it’s all over my sofa, it’s all over my jeans, Marc. His eyes are closed, shadowed in the lamplight.

Marc swallows a fond smile and kicks his shoes off, leaving them in the middle of the rug, before he slides himself onto the sofa beside Valentino and pulls the blanket over his legs.

Valentino blinks out of his doze, heavy eyelids and scrunched expression, but it all softens when he finds Marc next to him. “You’re back.”

“Shit journey,” Marc whispers. “You didn’t have to wait.” He always waits.

Valentino shakes his head. “I fell asleep watching the, ah, IMSA. Actually.”

“Of course.” The TV is dark, no laptop in sight, but Marc lets him have it. “Must have been exciting.”

“Mm.” Valentino yawns. “You must be tired. Very hard to be a MotoGP rider these days. All these first-class flights.”

“Terrible, yes. I’m comfortable here, unless your back cannot handle it.”

A smile cracks. Victory. “I am fine.”

“Good,” Marc says, and stretches up to kiss him.

The first time they’d done this again, pressed their lips together after nearly ten years apart, Valentino had shoved him against the wall too hard, overeager, and Marc had nearly headbutted him in the nose and they’d had to laugh at themselves—Marc thinks he would have cried otherwise, at how apart they’d grown, how they’d forgotten how to move together.

No such problems now; they aren’t starving for each other, trying to breathe it in after years of suffocating. It’s—and Marc never thought he would say this about Valentino—easy.

Marc usually runs hot, Valentino cooler, in a way that makes Valentino roll away in the heat of summer nights, grumbling get the fuck away from me, and curl around him as soon as the temperature drops again. His feet, under the blanket, find Marc’s legs.

“Vale,” Marc hisses, because he may as well have pressed an ice cube against his ankles. It’s late October, and Valentino’s core temperature appears to be the same as that of their fridge.

“We can go to bed.”

“You said you were fine.”

“I am fine.”

“Put some fucking socks on.”

Valentino just laughs into the top of Marc’s head. “Ah, you are tired. We should go to bed, yes? You must be stiff from the plane.”

Because he’s laughing, Marc acquiesces, downs blades. “Fine.” His arm is sore, and from the way Valentino is rubbing it, it must be obvious.

They might play at sword-fighting, feints and jabs that are incomprehensible to anyone else—Pecco had watched them bickering in Misano, forehead pinched, until Valentino accepted defeat with a delighted laugh—but in the quiet, between duels, it’s gentle.

“I can get the hot water bottle,” Valentino offers, “or I put the electric blanket on the bed while you were away. Is it bad?”

“Not bad,” Marc whispers. Just hard airport seats and the autumn-night chill. He’s got the rest of his life to get used to it.

“Come on,” Valentino says, soft now. “Ducati will not be happy if I am not taking care of their rider. Plenty of rest before the next race. You know how it is.”

“Oh, but I thought you were watching the endurance race?”

“Probably for the best, you know.” Valentino lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I might sign up to race in another championship if I am not careful.”

“Give you something to do, no?”

“Ah,” Valentino says, “but who would wait up for you with the light on?”

“Not you, you fell asleep.”

Another huff of laughter. Vale lets him get away with a lot these days, silent apologies Marc has already accepted for transgressions long since forgiven. Valentino’s eyes had been huge the first time, uncomprehending, what do you mean okay?

Forgiveness had always come easy to Marc, relatively speaking, even with Valentino. Especially with Valentino.

They peel themselves off the sofa, untangle the blanket—Vale picks a thread of fluff from his jogging bottoms with a sigh, then bends down to scoop up Marc’s abandoned trainers and a long-forgotten wine glass. Marc folds the blanket, places it over the sofa arm, waits for Valentino to head towards the hallway so he can follow. Glass on the hall table: they can wash it tomorrow. Shoes under the stairs. Suitcase left by the door.

“Who has your trophy?”

“Someone in the team.” Marc shrugs. “It will get home somehow.”

“Too many this year for you to keep track of, hm?”

“One hundred and eight,” Marc reminds him, sing-song, and almost relishes the flash in Valentino’s eyes. There’s no danger in it, not anymore.

“I will have to make Pecco work harder, then. We are training on Wednesday.”

“Promise I won’t run him off the track.”

“You are getting soft,” Valentino says with a smile that’s all teeth, but holds the door to their bedroom open and flicks the light switch.

“Like you?”

“Maybe.” And he says it like he doesn’t mind. “Brush your teeth, you smell like you have been on a plane for twelve hours.”

“I have no idea why that is.”

“Mm.”

When Marc is finished in the bathroom, quick shower, teeth brushed, shivering a little as he dries off, he crawls into bed and can’t hold back a sigh at the warmth beneath his skin.

Valentino watches him, so fucking smug—Marc used to hate that expression, used to grit his teeth and lift his chin against it, but now it’s closer to satisfaction, that he was right, that Marc needed something and he got to give it.

“This is the best thing we ever bought,” Marc says with conviction. “My favourite thing in the whole world, maybe.” Álex can laugh at him for having an electric blanket, my God, you’re old, but the heat of it against his arm is heavenly.

“Your favourite, hm?” Valentino smiles again, easy as breathing. “I will remember this.”

There’s no prodding, no you said it wasn’t bad, no see, I told you, wasn’t I right? No knife sliding through the chink in the armour.

“Eh, you are up there as well. Maybe third on the list.”

“So high?” Valentino stretches out his leg, lets Marc move closer. “There must be at least ten bikes you like more than me, yes?”

“It is close,” Marc murmurs, “but you have a lot going in your favour.” His hands find Valentino’s waist, his stomach—still toned, racing GT cars is no walk in the park—and he presses his cheek against Valentino’s outstretched upper arm.

“Yes?”

“Well, you put the blanket on the bed.”

“Ah, yes.” Valentino lets him shift, shift again until he’s comfortable, without complaint, and offers him a tired smile. It’s one of Marc’s favourite smiles, because it’s one just for him. “This is okay?”

Marc closes his eyes, sighing at the brush of fingers on the back of his neck. His arm will be stiff tomorrow, but this will help, and he has ridden through worse. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Vale repeats, and his fingers curl through Marc’s hair. “I bought eggs for breakfast also.”

“You are getting soft,” Marc tells him, grinning loose and easy where it might have been sharp, once.

Valentino only smiles back, and the part of Marc that still gears up for a fight, buried deep but there, stands down. Three years of this do not erase everything that came before, but every minute they spend like this is another coat of paint over the bloody stain. That’s fine; he has time.

He’s got the rest of his life to get used to this.

[deandoesthingstome]

Okay. Okaaayyyy. Okay!!!

I just fucking love it when everything I ever wondered about starts to make perfect sense. I am enamored at the way you have made me care so much for Evie and her grandmother-in-law and her soon to be baby girl and her very unfortunately dead husband, despite this being a slow burn fic about how much I want to fuck Simon "Ghost" Riley, only to weave them all back into the story in this way.

What a masterful twist! And so early in the plot. So I'm doubly excited to see what else is in store for us!!!

I love the lazy Sunday morning. I was half convinced this reality would shape itself into at least the good part of Simon's nightmare from a few days ago. All sexy in bed and balaclava off, face and secrets revealed. But obviously we have so many more secrets to get past before that happens and suddenly I'm sure I understand what he means when he says he needs it to be right when he finally cages me under him and slips back between my legs to feed his massive cock to my hungry pussy and just own me. He needs to be Simon. No Ghost.

These pauses. These held apart moments I've been so frustrated with are all making so much more sense now and I am here for it!

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical cursing, heavy suggestive themes, non-descriptive intimacy, domestic/soft/playful Simon, flirting, kissing, canon-typical mentions of violence, military-based discussions, brief trauma reflection

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Part Twelve of Ink & Needle

You and Simon spend the morning in bed together. Amelia and Evie corner Simon in the kitchen. Price, Soap, and Gaz finally talk to Simon about the mission.

Chapter Eleven // Chapter Thirteen

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Tea.

Eggs—large, at least two dozen.

Bread.

Bulk butter.

Milk—full fat.

Flour.

Batteries.

Postal stamps.

Chi—

The electric kettle shuts off and Simon sets into routine, brewing his morning tea without a second thought. The hour is early, and the sun hardly breaks the horizon. Simon’s flat is almost completely dark except for the faintest bits of light that creeps in as the sun’s rays skim over the tops of nearby buildings.

Simon disposes of the tea bag and holds the steaming mug in both hands. Yes, it’s hot, but the warmth is comforting. It grounds him. Keeps his resolve from snapping and returning to a different warmth.

He starts over, listing all the things he’s growing low on.

Tea. Eggs. Bread.

You’re in his flat. In his bedroom. In his bed.

Naked. Flour. Asleep. Batteries.

Soft. Postage stamps. Bare beneath the sheets. Still slick between the thighs.

Fuck.

Simon pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes, and inhales deeply. He needs to get a fucking grip. Every instinct within him commands Simon to go crawl into bed, to wake you up, and to slide between your legs. To greet the day with you beneath him.

That can’t happen.

Not because Simon doesn’t want to but because he wants to do this right. You deserve more than a dirty couch in a club’s green room. You deserve more than a quick moment of passion. You deserve patience and attention, to have someone focus on you and only you.

You may already be his, but not entirely. Not completely.

Not yet.

But, when Simon makes it happen, when the two of you finally bind this into something solid and real, you’ll never want to him leave. Simon will make sure of it.

Lingering in the kitchen, Simon drinks his tea, allowing the vestiges of sleep to seep out of his muscles and bones. His fucking jaw hurts, but that hardly matters to him. Not after what he did last night, or how you bloomed like a flower.

Spread wide. Perfect. Open.

Just for him.

Only for him.

Bravo nudges Simon’s thigh with the tip of his wet nose. Absently, Simon reaches down and scratches between the dog’s ears. The German Shepard leans into it, his eyes closing slightly with contentment.

Sighing, Simon pats the top of Bravo’s head. Sauntering toward the bedroom door, Simon leans against the frame, arms crossed, one hand clutching his tea mug. He watches you snooze for a few minutes. Most of you is covered by the bedding, but Simon glimpses just a hint of bare arm and shoulder. You’re completely submerged under there, and if Simon listens hard enough, he can hear a gentle snore.

To him, it’s cute. You might not find it so.

Simon rubs the back of his neck as Bravo pads into the room, gently jumping up into the bed. He doesn’t disturb you. Instead, the black-furred dog circles three times before settling.

You’ll wake eventually and Simon isn’t wearing his mask.

Simon hasn’t put it on since he took it off last night. There, in the dark, he removed it, only wanting to taste you. Simon isn’t ashamed of his face or his scars. He doesn’t consider himself ugly. It’s just…habit to put the mask on. He was Ghost in the field. Now, he’s Ghost in his shop.

Mysterious. Different. Detached.

He was Ghost when he met you at Riot Room, and now he’s Simon. Just…Simon.

Running his tongue over his teeth, Simon turns around and heads back into the kitchen. While Simon is a tea drinker, he keeps coffee on hand. Simon isn’t one for smashing energy drinks or soda even though his sweet tooth can be a fucking fiend, but sometimes he needs an extra kick.

Taking his time, Simon measures out and drops the ground coffee into the filter. From there, he closes the machine lid, filling the carafe, turning the ancient machine on. It hums and it’s almost too loud. A little green light comes on, and Simon steps away, checking the fridge. There are still a few eggs and bacon. Flour is low but he might be able to scrape up enough to whip up pancakes.

His stomach growls softly and Simon shuts the fridge.

Back in the bedroom, you still snooze softly, and Simon takes this time to clean up. He can still taste you on him, but it is faint, nearly a foreign sensation. Grabbing a towel, Simon hops into the shower. He scrubs down, brushes his teeth, even dries his hair.

Simon tugs on the balaclava, wearing nothing else except black boxer briefs. Stepping back into the bedroom, Simon pauses, noticing tussled hair and sleepy eyes.

“Morning,” says Simon.

You stretch, the grey sheet covering your breasts slipping a bit, nearly revealing nipple. You catch it just in time, stifling a yawn.

“Good morning,” you reply, the raspiness of sleep still clinging to your vocal cords.

Bravo rolls over onto his side, oblivious to the two of you.

“Shower’s available.” Simon gestures with a shrug of his shoulder in the direction of the bathroom.

Your gaze follows and then promptly returns to Simon. At first, your face is blank, and then, slowly, it drifts into a sultry mischievousness that sends blood straight to his groin. Any more of this and Simon will come undone.

“I don’t want to shower,” you murmur, some of the bedding slipping from your fingers. It’s dangerously close to revealing all of you. Last night you were bare for him, but the two of you were in the dark, and Simon only saw pieces of you. It wasn’t nearly enough, and now it’s almost too much.

The thought of your naked body within reach, wanting him, saying so with words alone is enough to start to crack at his resolve.

Fuck. Fucking hell.

“What do you want?” Simon almost doesn’t recognize himself. What comes out of him is a needy groan.

The slow blink before your response sends signals to his feet to start moving. “I want you to come to bed,” you reply.

Simon stops right at the edge of the bed, every muscle in his body coiled with tension. All he has to do is tug and the bedding will fall away.

“And do what?” prompts Simon, the restraint within him oozing off him to slip between the cracks in the wood floor.

Bravo’s ears perk up and then his head. He glances between the two of you and immediately slinks out of the bed, hurrying away. Simon listens for the dog door and then places one knee on the edge of the bed. Some of his joints resist the movement, those old wounds making themselves known. But Simon ignores them all, his full attention fixed on the woman asking him to join her.

“Whatever you want, Simon.”

Whatever he wants? There are so many things he wants. Simon wants to make you his, to keep you here, to never let you go. None of those are options right now. No. Not yet. But he can still play.

Simon’s fingers curl around the topmost sheet. He tugs, ripping them out of your grasp and away from your body. You immediately cover yourself, legs crossing in front of you and your arms resting across your chest.

The moment the bedding is out of his way, Simon wraps his fingers around your left ankle to drag you closer.

“Simon!” you gasp, but it is all teasing.

“Come here,” he growls, using the natural weight of his body to propel him fully onto the bed and push you down on your back. Your arms and legs fall away then, opening for him, and Simon slots himself between, his mouth already seeking yours.

Simon kisses and touches until your soft giggles become moans. His mouth seeks lower ground. Lower still, and then those moans become shaky and limp legs with gasping breath. You reach for him, and Simon leans into your touch, allowing you to stroke and caress until his haughty, smug smile becomes something else entirely.

With his balaclava-covered face pressed against your neck, Simon inhales, wrapping his large arms around you. He helps your limp-limbed form slide out of bed, and somehow guides you into the shower. While you’re scrubbing away at your skin and scalp, Simon is in the kitchen, managing to prepare breakfast with the little he has.

It’s Sunday, and Simon has absolutely fucking nothing to do. It’s always been Dancing Faun, drinks, and then finding someone on his roster to have it off with. But Simon doesn’t need to do that. He doesn’t need anyone or anything but you. If you want it, he’ll spend his entire Sunday in your presence, partaking in whatever it is you’re interested in doing.

When you emerge wearing nothing but one of his shirts, Simon has to squash the urge to bend you over the table.

“Breakfast,” rasps Simon, grabbing a plate to distract himself.

“Please,” you sigh, approaching him and placing a hand on his lower back.

“Little of everything?”

You nod, giving Simon’s shoulder a quick kiss before walking over to the dining table. Simon’s body vibrates with happiness. He overloads your plate and his, bringing the coffee and a newly made kettle to the table.

“Plans for the day?”

You shake your head, yawning. “No. But I do need to check on Evie.”

Simon checks the time on his phone. It’s nearly the afternoon. “After breakfast I’ll walk you.”

When you go to change back into your clothes, Simon is handsy, grabbing at bare thigh and waist just because he can. You giggle through the whole thing, the two of you ending up on the floor with your limbs intertwined and your mouths meeting.

It takes forever for the two of you to make it out the door. The walk is short but slow. Simon drags it out, keeping you close to his body as the cool autumn air kicks up. His hand delves, teasing, keeping you playful the whole walk to Amelia’s.

You’re still fumbling with the key to the front door when Evie yanks it open. Simon promptly hides the view of his hand under your sweater. Simon isn’t fast enough because Evie’s grin is downright feral.

“Good afternoon.” She pointedly emphasizes “afternoon” by glancing in Simon’s direction. Her dark hair is piled up on the top of her head in a messy bun, and the robe she’s wearing is untied, revealing pink pajamas and a massive belly.

“Sorry, Evie,” you laugh, awkwardly shifting away from Simon to dislodge his hand.

Still glancing at Simon, Evie snags your upper arm, hauling you inside. Simon steps in after you. Bravo shoves his way in, navigating the cramped entry space and aiming for the kitchen. The German Shepard rounds a corner, and Simon hears Amelia greet the dog.

“Go change,” urges Evie, shoving you toward the stairs. “Take a shower too.”

“I did,” you snap with a laugh.

“Take another one. I can smell you.”

You flip Evie the bird and she gives one right back. Glancing over your shoulder at Simon, he gives you the slightest of shrugs. He doesn’t want to be left alone with Evie and Amelia, but he’ll deal with it.

The moment you disappear to the top level, Evie is turning that feral grin on Simon, her hands on her hips. Amelia appears like a phantom in the doorway where the entryway and living room meet.

“Made tea,” says Amelia. She’s wearing her gardening clothes. There are dirty patches on the knees.

“No thank you,” replies Simon.

“You’re having tea.” One of Amelia’s eyebrows arches like she’s begging him to question her.

Simon nods instead of refusing again.

Right. He’s having tea.

In the kitchen, Bravo is munching away on a small pile of dog treats. Simon sighs, watching the German Shepard happily chew them up one by one. He takes a seat at the table, the two women joining him.

At the center of the table are chicken salad sandwiches on plain white bread, an open bag of crips, and a bowl of mixed fruit. Evie starts piling her plate while Amelia distributes the tea.

“Hungry?” Amelia asks Simon, offering him a plate.

He’s fucking full from breakfast, but he’s not refusing this like he did with the tea. “Yes, thank you.”

Amelia plops a sandwich on Simon’s plate, scoops out a heaping portion of fruit, and shakes a mountain of crips out.

“Weather is expected to cool off in the next few weeks.” Amelia shrugs. “That’s what the forecaster says anyway.”

Evie places her hand on her belly. “Hopefully she’ll be out by then.”

Simon glances at the spot where Evie’s hand rests. “You’re due soon?”

“Yes. Very soon. Due date is technically a week out but could happen any day.”

Simon nods, his tattooed fingers playing with the handle of the tea mug. He stares at the pile of food in front of him and frowns. Simon is so absorbed with his own thoughts, that it takes him a few moments to recognize the absolute silence.

He glances up only to find Amelia and Evie leaning back in their chairs, bemused expressions on their faces as they observe him.

“What?” he blurts, suddenly nervous.

Amelia and Evie exchange a look.

“You remember our conversation?” asks Amelia softly.

Simon crosses his arm, shifting in his seat. His phone digs into his thigh and he adjusts again. “I do,” he replies slowly.

Amelia nods. She glances down at Simon’s plate. “Haven’t touched your food. Something wrong?”

Fuck.

Simon pushes up the balaclava enough to shove a few crisps into his mouth. They’re cheese and onion flavored. It’s the wrong choice. The only sound in the room are the crunching crisps in Simon’s mouth. Amelia and Evie still stare at him.

He swallows, the half-chewed food nearly sticking in his throat. Simon hastily drinks his tea.

“How’s business?” asks Amelia once Simon sets the tea back onto the table.

“Busy.”

“I would hope so. Saw you on the cover of a magazine while shopping. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” says Simon, bit of heat warming the tops of his cheeks.

Evie’s eyes widen slightly. “That’s wonderful. What magazine?”

“UK Ink,” he answers. “Best tattoo artist.”

“Very deserved,” says Amelia, lifting her tea.

“You’ve never been in my shop,” chuckles Simon.

Amelia shrugs. “But I see you almost every Sunday, and Ben is always bragging about you.”

Simon shifts again in his chair from embarrassment. His phone digs into his ass this time. Frowning, Simon removes it from his pocket and places it on the table facedown.

“You’re being polite,” says Simon, attempting to push the praise off him.

Evie chews quietly, her gaze darting between Amelia and Simon. Over her shoulder, Simon glimpses a series of photographs. One of them is a wedding photo, a recent one. The woman he recognizes as Evie, and the man she leans against must be her dead husband.

Simon’s phone buzzes, but he ignores it. He really needs you to finish showering and changing your clothes. The phone ceases and Simon goes for some fruit this time.

Amelia opens her mouth to reply but Simon’s phone kicks up again. She promptly shuts her mouth and glances at the device.

“They’ll leave a message,” says Simon dismissively. Sometimes business calls are rerouted to his personal phone. During the week, it’s not an issue, but on a day like today, it’s annoying.

Amelia inclines her head, but Simon’s fucking phone won’t stop. It starts buzzing again.

“You should answer that.” Amelia nods toward it.

Simon stares down at the phone, all the food in his stomach suddenly solidifying. There are only a few people who would relentlessly call Simon like this. The cellphone stops, begins again, and Simon’s frown deepens.

He picks it up, turning the screen over to face him.

Price.

Fuck.

Simon lets it go to voicemail.

When the buzzing begins again, Amelia tuts. “Answer it or I’m chucking it into the garden.”

“Excuse me,” murmurs Simon, pushing his chair back and standing, heading for the living room. When Simon nears the entryway, he answers the phone, bringing it up to his ear.

“Price,” he says flatly.

“Simon.” Price’s greeting is polite but reserved. “Were you sleeping?”

“No.”

Price grunts on the other end. “Have you handled your business?”

He means you. Last night floods into Simon’s mind, bringing up Adam and the whole fucking mess of an evening.

“Yes,” answers Simon, though he hears the slight shake in the way he says it.

“Is tonight good?”

Simon silently swears. He wants to spend the day with you, not talk to the boys about their upcoming mission. But Simon made a promise to them, and he intends to see it through.

Simon licks his lips and sighs. “Meet me outside the shop.”

Price rattles off a time and Simon agrees, knowing that he won’t have much time with you between now and then.

Simon ends the call right as you come down the stairs. You’re already moving toward him and Simon instantly reaches out, seeking you. When your hand slides into his, Simon pulls you close. Placing your other hand on his chest, Simon leans down and seeks your lips for a kiss.

“You taste like onion,” you murmur.

Simon chuckles before drawing back a bit. “Amelia fed me.”

“She tends to do that.”

He adjusts his grip, drawing you into his side so Simon can wrap his arm around your waist. Over your shoulder, he notices Amelia and Evie dangerously leaning around the corner in the chairs, trying to watch from a distance. Even Bravo is poking his head around the corner.

“I have to go,” murmurs Simon, brushing a few damp strands from your face to tuck behind your ear.

Your smile faulters slightly and Simon immediately regrets saying anything at all.

“Right now?” you ask.

Simon shakes his head. “Not right now. In an hour.”

“Did something happen?”

No. Yes. Maybe? Simon has no clue what the boys want to talk to him about. They’ve never been shy about asking him for advice or looking something over for them. But rarely have they ever asked to come in person to discuss something confidential.

“You remember the men who escorted Adam out the pub last night?”

The middle of your brow scrunches. “Yes?”

“Our evening was…interrupted. Just need to finishing up with them.”

“I see.” You glance down and then back to Simon’s face. “My fault?”

“No,” he says, drawing you closer against him. “Don’t think that.” Simon kisses you for good measure. “Can we make plans for later this week?”

Your fingers tangle with the fabric of his shirt. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Simon checks over your head to find Amelia and Evie still watching from their chairs. “They’re nosy, aren’t they?”

You laugh. “Wouldn’t you be?”

Simon inclines his head, knowing that’s true. “Come on,” he murmurs. “Need some help finishing the plate Amelia made me.”

In front of Simon is an empty whiskey glass.

It’s the first one, and Simon expects to have plenty more as the evening progresses. Ben, the owner of Dancing Faun strides over, removing the glass and placing down a fresh one.

“Might need this,” he says, the deep timbre of his voice like thunder. Ben places a half-full whiskey bottle down next to Simon’s glass.

Simon nods in thanks as Ben turns his back and disappears behind the bar.

This isn’t the evening for beer. Simon needs something strong if the three grim faces staring back at him are any indication. Johnny has a Scotch, Price has whiskey like Simon, and Gaz has tequila.

All hard edges here. Nothing soft.

Ben closed up Dancing Faun early to give them some space and privacy. The sun isn’t down yet but the light hardly makes it into the front window. The four of them sit around a square table, one to each side. Inside the pub, the lights above the bar and the one directly above their table are on.

Simon’s gaze darts to each of the men he knows as brothers. Price, who is always tired and complaining of heartburn, appears exhausted like he’s been awake for days. Gaz is subdued, his mouth turned downward into a slight frown. Johnny, who is always upbeat, is quiet and calm.

It’s fucking weird seeing them like this. It doesn’t sit right with Simon. Whatever is on their minds is eating away at them. Either something is completely fucked, or he’s about to hear something unpleasant.

Ben stays behind the bar cleaning glassware, taking inventory, and occasionally disappearing into the back. The man is discreet when he needs to be, and if he overhears anything, Ben won’t snitch or turn around to spread it to others.

Simon isn’t worried about that, but he is worried about Price, Gaz, and Soap.

“Why the long faces?” asks Simon, attempting to joke but failing completely.

Price sighs heavily. “He’s back, Simon.”

It’s such a vague way of putting it. He could mean anyone. Task Force 141 made plenty of enemies while Simon was part of it. Hell—Simon made plenty of enemies just from working in SAS. He’s executed so many missions they’re almost a blur to him.

“Who?” prompts Simon. “Makarov?”

That would be a fucking joke if that wanker got out. Simon would certainly need to be on alert but not overly concerned. It’s not like Simon is in the way anymore.

Price shakes his head while Johnny and Kyle exchange a look. “Makarov is still in prison. Securely. Last time I checked.”

“And when was that?”

“A week ago,” replies Price.

“A week is a long time.”

“It’s not Makarov,” interjects Kyle, his fingers tapping the side of his glass.

Simon glances in Kyle’s direction. The frown is still there but his eyes tell him enough. It’s a sad sort of pleading. An apology but not because Gaz has done anything wrong. Simon has seen this look before.

Pity. It’s pity that Simon sees in Kyle’s gaze.

Price clears his throat, shoots his whiskey back, and then pours himself another from the bottle Ben set down on the table. “Kyle is right. It’s not Makarov, Simon.” Price lifts his glass and stares into the amber liquid. “When I say he’s back, I mean him.”

Simon’s stomach is toxic slime. It bubbles there, brewing, waiting to eat away at flesh and bone and blood.

Him. Him.

From the nightmares. From the scars. From the wounds that never healed properly.

No. No no no. Fucking no.

“You’re lying,” growls Simon, his hands forming fists under the table.

“Simon—”

Simon slams his fist against the tabletop. Everything rattles. “He’s fucking dead, Price.” Simon points at himself. “I put a knife in his chest. Watched him fall.” He gestures to everyone at the table with a sweep of his hand. “We all saw his burnt corpse.”

Johnny is the one to speak, not Price. “A corpse so burnt it couldn’t be identified.”

There is pity in Johnny’s gaze too, and Simon fucking hates it. He hates how they’re all looking at him right now. If he’s back, that means all the therapy, retirement, and all the pain is absolutely bloody pointless.

Nothing. Just air. Dead confetti wasting away on concrete.

“I didn’t earn these injuries or have retirement shoved on me just for you to come back here and tell me he still lives.” Simon’s tone is cold. Broken.

Price sighs again, crossing his arms and resting them on the edge of the table. “You think I wanted to come and tell you this, Simon?” Simon removes his fist from the table, dropping it into his lap. “I didn’t want to say anything at all. But I’m out of options. And things are going to shit fast.”

Simon understands. He doesn’t need to ask because he knows why Price, Soap, and Gaz have all come. This man they’re hunting, the one that Simon believed he killed, the one who gave Simon the burn scars along his upper arms, back, and shoulders, is walking around somewhere, returning to what he does best.

“You were the one who got close to him. You know him better than any of us,” continues Price. “And we need your help.”

Simon does know him better than they do. He got close enough to get into his head.

Kit Walsh.

Simple, isn’t it. Unsuspecting.

Evil people aren’t born with evil names.

Kit Walsh who grew up in Manchester just like Simon. Attended school there and even lived in a nearby neighborhood from the one Simon grew up in.

Kit Walsh who radicalized himself by talking to likeminded individuals in private chatrooms on the internet.

Kit Walsh who, as he got older, decided he wanted the rest of the world to look and think just like him.

Evil people always start somewhere, and sometimes they’re not rooted out until it’s far too late for everyone else.

Simon flexes his fingers, stretching the joints before forming a fist again. “Help how?”

“You don’t have to do this, Simon.”

Slamming back his whiskey, Simon reaches across the table to snag the whiskey bottle.

The worst kind of evil is always domestic. It always starts at home.

Of course, Simon has to help. The whole reason they got as close as they did was from the work Simon put in during his time with SAS.

“Where is he, Price?”

Price sucks his teeth and then rubs his temple. “It’s complicated. Messy.”

“Then explain.”

Reaching into his coat pocket, Price removes a stack of photos. Sorting through them, Price removes two, tossing them across the table toward Simon. Picking them up, Simon examines them. Both photos are of Walsh in a mega church. He’s posing with men in nicely tailored suits, but it’s not like Simon knows who these men are. Walsh, Simon recognizes, but he’s changed his hair and put on a few pounds.

“Those were taken a week ago in Texas.”

Simon glances up from the photos. “He’s in the States?” Price opens his mouth but Simon laughs. It’s short and clipped, but high. “You’ve fucking lost him.”

Price frowns but Simon continues. “Last time he bounced between here and the Continent. If he’s gone to America, you won’t fucking find him.”

“Laswell already knows.”

“I’m sure she does.”

Kyle leans forward. “Are you hearing what they’re saying over there? The idiotic shit coming out of people’s mouths?”

“They say shit like that here, Gaz,” snaps Simon, anger lacing his tone. “They say it in Germany. In France. In Russia. Everywhere. It’s just wearing different faces for the same thing.”

Kyle’s frown deepens and his stare could slice glass. Simon immediately swallows down some of that irritation. His anger isn’t with any of them. It’s the fact that everything Simon went through meant nothing. All these scars now covered up by ink are just reminders of his failure.

“You know how he works, Simon. Everything we have on him we have because of you. I know it’ll be difficult now that he’s jumped the ocean, but I’m desperate, Simon. Give me anything.”

Simon stares down at the tabletop. The dark wood stares back. His priorities have changed during retirement. He’s no longer active military. He doesn’t have to help them at all. Simon has his shop, his new career, and Bravo.

Now, there is an addition to the mix. You. You are a priority now.

“He’s killed someone. Or had someone do it for him.”

Simon glances up from the table to stare into Price’s stern expression. “Walsh has killed a lot of people. Directly and indirectly.”

“Someone important,” interrupts Johnny, swirling his Scotch around in his glass.

“Someone important to certain people,” amends Price.

Simon adjusts in his seat, the chair suddenly becoming uncomfortable. “Who?”

Price fans out the pictures in front of him. A few seconds pass and then Price selects several, slowly pushing them across the table.

“Archibald Williams,” begins Price. “Also lovingly referred to as ‘Archie’ by friends and family.” The face staring back at him is a face he knows. He saw it just this morning in a wedding photo behind Evie’s left shoulder.

Simon’s tattooed fingers slip under the photograph, bringing it closer to him. There is zero doubt in Simon’s mind that this is the same man.

Price taps one finger against the table before selecting another photo and setting it closer to Simon. “On his great grandfather’s side, our boy here has a bit of Windsor in him.”

Simon’s head snaps up. “You’re bloody joking.”

Price shrugs. “Distant relation. At least a hundred would have to die before he’d even be considered for the throne.”

“Fucking hell,” mutters Simon, organizing the photos so he can see them all at once.

One is a photo of him with his football mates, all of them sweaty and smiling and dirty. Another is a massive family portrait. It’s the kind that the Royal Family or any aristocratic family enjoy taking with the immediate and extended family. Simon locates Archie amongst what seems like a hundred faces. Next to Archie is Adam, and Simon immediately frowns.

Moving those to the side, Simon picks up the next photograph. In this one, Archie poses next to three well-dressed young men. They’re all lined up in a row with Archie on one end and a stranger on the other. The two in the middle are no strangers. They’re much younger in this photo but the heir to the Throne and his brother are faces any Brit should know.

“You can see why it’s messy,” says Price after Simon sets the last photo down.

“Shambles,” mumbles Gaz before tossing back his tequila.

Johnny grunts but says nothing. Simon glances at him briefly but returns his attention to Price.

“Why him?”

Price leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Rumor is that Archie here planned on relinquishing his titles. Running for public office. Wanted to make a difference.”

“That’s enough to kill him?” probes Simon, knowing there has to be more.

“Having political opinions is frowned upon for people like him. He’s supposed to stay neutral. Not take sides. He was being vocal. Donated tons of his wealth to different charities. Made lots of people uncomfortable.”

“Like Walsh?” Simon shakes his head. “That’s not like him. He prefers the long game. He’s not like Makarov. Makarov will look you in the face. Walsh will hide behind a wall of politicians.”

“I know,” says Price sadly. He rubs his temple again, sighing. “Williams left a wife behind.”

I know, Price. Sat at the table with her just this afternoon.

Simon says nothing. There is no reason to involve Evie or you in this. Price is only asking for advice. He needs some input into a vastly complicated situation.

“You looking for her?”

Price shakes his head. “No. Hadn’t been married long. Sad, is all.”

“It is,” agrees Simon.

“So, you’ll help us?” asks Johnny, drawing Simon’s attention away from Price. “Take a look at the files?”

At Johnny’s question, Price presents Simon with a small stack of file folders.

They’re just asking him to look. They’re just asking him for some advice.

That’s it.

That’s all.

Price holds them out and Simon reaches forward.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @lialacleaf @theshrikeandcanary @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @creamwhxre @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @cinnabeanz @berarenado @rogerrhqpsody @c0pernicus @josephquinnschesthair @corvusmorte @saoirse06 @therealbloom @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @knight4xmas @jupiternighties @darling006 @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @carma-fanficaddict @beebeechaos @enarien @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @mudisgranapat @heeheehoohoohahahihi @i-feel-violated

[strab3rr]

(long story and no short sorry) GUYSSS I DID ITT

I INDUCED IT!!!!! I WAS PURE AS A FUCKING BABY

IDK WHAT TO SAY (ok enough w capslock)

i have so much to say and not a thing at da same time idk how

anyway i want to begin with thanking you @b4ddprincess bc youre the reason i realized why i started this thing. thank you for making my life better and make me realized what i need to do: nothing. (its same for you guys, all u have to do is nothing)

two fuckn years ago i said to myself that i need a better life, quiter life, less fight with everthing bc everything was so loud and not clear i was feeling lost like a child in the market, and i wanted to make things better for myself in every way, but the main idea of my reasons to wanting to get in the void was: making anxiety go and having better people in my life. but the ''voidlist'' just never stopped bc im kinda greedy(having the idea of controling on your life, the idea of that power makes you greedy. yes thats a thing) anyway the more i add to the list the more i feel like im movin away from my desires then i feel depressed bc ive overcomplicating it bc theres so many things to do but i dont do anything so nothing happend bc i was waiting to be someth happen. and then i started doing awkwardly silly things such as: void routines and challenges and (im embarrassed of this one bc i was too desperate) drinking water

youve read it correct drinking water.

i was sooo desperate for having those things id do anything to get them.

i am simple. i want what everyone wants🎀🎀🎀: shifting realities bc i have so many crush and i need them to be crush me in bed(for 2020 girlies)

being an academic weapon is so easy for me🎀(bc of the urge to make my family proud) +dream collage

being the girl that everyone gets along w(basic needs)

being the girl who is pretty not cute(trauma response)

glowing aura(cats loves people w glowing aura yes thats a thing too)

dream body n hair(bc i deserve this🎀)

healthy (girlyfriend)friends(basic needs)

and of course him, my sp(i cant tell wich one at that time but i releived that its not him now, bc MY BELOVED CURRENT BF. guyss he is the one. dont u dare ask me how you know? i literally manifested him🎀)

then i realized i can have everything bc its my reality so why not add these:

new phone, +macbook air

dream apartment of my own

pinterest closet

lifa app for this reality

financially free-money(a lot. like really a lot)

knowing 4 languages like a native person(bc i want to be diplomat so bad) +sign language(its in general)

a little drama(its not gonna hurt anybody)

my parents being more lovable and away from me

every time i try to get in, either i was failing or falling

and im sick of it, sick of it so much i quit.(for a year)

then i go to the theraphy(ofc no im jk ilove being crazy)

one day i saw a post ss from tumblr about pure consciousness on pinterest and i was like whaat is thiiss. no mention of void so i thougt its a diffrent thing and i download the tumblr again and search everything abt it. and same excitement again after one year same thougts and same list popes up in my head. and i was like ok maybe this time itll happen.

still waiting to be someth happen so nothing happend, it was such a waste of time trying to get in while i was already be, i was already what i want to become. i was that girl that everyone gets along with but i couldnt even see bc i was too focused on wanting to be. but still tried every night and failed. and again tried-failed-quit circle bc.. have you ever met me🎀

4 month ago i saw the girl, iconic blogger and the goddess of my dreams, her @b4ddprincess thx again love u so much

a post pops in my fyp and i see the words ''pure consciousness'' i was like noo not again. and i was serious abt it i wasnt gonna read the whole thing but it attract me n i couldnt resist it so ive read it from the top to the bottom. and she got my interest so i stalked her page from the last and to the first post. it was quiet a beautiful journey for me. lasted like 3 days, the end of the 3rd day i was ''woaw it was this easy all along? u cant be serious.'' she was. i tried one last time, no breathing exercise, no ridiculous routines and no waiting something to be happen. it was just me being real me chilling out asf.

and it was this easy and it should be this easy bc being your 4d self is being nothing also being everything at the same time. if u wanna be everything you should be nothing first(as wizardliz saying: drop the old story, leave the victimhood, for being better stop being bitter etc.)u should make a space for everything first and then u can be everything.

for being 4d self of yours stop being your3dself.

sooo long story (no)short i am writing this from my mac in my new apartment(in middle of the night bc i couldnt sleep and then one tumblr notification reminded me i have a success story to share too) and my phone buzzing two minutes a time bc of my friends while im writing this, so if theres anything wrong ignore it pls.

oh u asking my bf how cute, hes sleepin in my bed now, exhausted from the work n school balance.

YWS SCHOOL!! im in my dream collage and im going to be in paris for a week. i deserve a vacation i guess(its for another conference), i kinda hate french men bc theyre so mansplaning(not like how i imagined, its hard to be friends w them)girls are cute but i feel like theyre aware im not permanent there so we just con buddies still cute and hepful for this foreigner.

and i canceled the lifa app thingy bc i can be my purest consciousness anytime i want, so i am my lifa app.

and thx to 4 languages i make a lot of money and that brings us to the pinterest closet, yesterday i realiased that. theyre not comes to me w an imaginary way like i imagined! i go outside for shopping casually and theyre there luckily i have enough money to buy them.

and my family theyre living in our hometown now so as i want it to be, we are away from eachother.

and the most magical thing: SHIFTING REALITIESSS

i did 5 world before i met w my bf. it was such a wonderful experience. if you have doubts abt shifting you can go fuck urself

because sir i did it and i am very sure that dean winchester being my husband is not a daydream, fantasy nor lucid dreaming. believe it or not he kissed me GOD HE KİSSED ME(someone should stop me i have a bf)

is there anything i missed let me see.. cats i have 2 cats now and theyre adorable. glowing aura-check

the girl who is pretty not cute- check +make anxietygo-checkcheckcheck

dream body and hair- check and check

i wanna give u a info i didnt have all my desires by being my4dself

not directly actually. but i have them all. and thats the point.

im not trying to be a blogger but if you have any question abt anything, id be happy to help

now i need to upgrade things in my farm byeess

loves, siena.

[kayhi808]

I got an ask for ya. I don't think anyone has asked this but I apologize if answered this...

What about if Mama gets pregnant? Will Abbie Rose be happy? How will Bucky react? Maybe he thought he would be able to get Mama pregnant because of his Hydra past. U can do with this what u will. Thank u, and I love our little family. Superb writing as always. B

Thank you, B!! 🥰 Wow! There's so much here to work with. Someone did ask about Abby being a big sister. In theory, she's so excited...in reality there might be big adjustment / jealousy issues our little family will need to work through. I'll try to find a link. Proud Papa Toys for New Baby

You're sitting on the bathroom floor, the chill from the tiles seeping into your skin. Tears silently tracking down your cheeks. You just finished a battle with nausea & dry heaves.

You jump at the light knocking on the bathroom door, "Doll? Are you ok?" Bucky could hear your heavings & stuttered breath. "Can I come in?" He tries the door and it's locked. He's about to panic when he hears the soft click of the lock. He slowly opens the door to find you on the floor & he closes the door, not wanting Abby to see you like this. "What's wrong?" Kneeling by your side, rubbing little circles onto your back.

"I got sick."

"Do you want me to take you to the med bay?" After the wedding, you and Abby moved into The Tower with Bucky.

"I'm also...late."

"Late for what?" You roll your eyes and cry harder. "Oh. OH!"

"I'm about 2 1/2 weeks late and..and I just threw up. I didn't think too much about being late because the stress of the wedding, moving here..."

In a stunned whisper, "And I told you I couldn't have children."

"You said that with HYDRA...the serum..."

"Its not possible."

"You're the only man I've been with! If I'm pregnant, the baby is yours."

Bucky frowns at you, "Of course the baby is mine! Did you think I'd question that?!"

"I don't know! I'm just scared."

"Shit," gathering you in his arms, "Doll, you're so..."

"Don't call me crazy!"

Kissing you on the forehead, "Wouldn't dream of it." His hand rest on your abdomen. "Do you really think you could be pregnant?"

Your sobs turn to hiccups, "I think I am."

Bucky picks you up and carries you back to bed, "We'll get you tested first thing in the morning, but for now, try and get more sleep. Don't worry about Abby, I'll get her ready for school & drop off. Get your rest." He pulls you back up against him. His hand still resting on your belly.

******

"Any word?" You jump at the sound of Bucky's voice from your doorway. "Sorry."

"Not yet." Bucky leans down for a kiss.

"Were you able to keep anything down today?"

"I had toast and some soup. I'm good." Your phone rings and caller ID say it's Dr. Cho. "It's her! It's her!"

Bucky runs back to shut the door & rushes to your side. "Mrs. Barnes."

"Hi Dr. Cho. I have you on speakerphone, Bucky is here."

"Sargent Barnes. Congratulations are in order." Both you and Bucky turn to each other wide eyed. "Baby Barnes should arrive early February of next year."

"Oh my God."

"Holy Fuck," you swat Bucky's arm. "Sorry! That's great news! Thank you so much."

"It is great news but I will be classifying this as a high risk pregnancy. We don't know the effects the serum will have on the baby. You'll need to be monitored closely."

"Of course, whatever you think is best!"

"I'll have a checkup calendar sent to you and Sgt Barnes."

"Yes, thank you so much!" You hang up the phone and Bucky's already swept you up in his arms.

"I put a baby in you." He laughs, "A super baby."

@waywardhunter95 @wintrsoldrluvr @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool @baw1066 @nommingonfood @jvanilly

[storiesaplenty]

Jelly Bracelets (10) ~ (18+)

Eddie Munson x f/Reader

Jelly Bracelets Masterlist

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy, though.

Warnings: swearing. Oral (m receiving) cum swallowing. Face fucking. Semi-public blowjob.

Gifs & photos do not belong to me: 1st gif @spookynebula

WC: 1017

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: Do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Blue (18+) - indicates oral sex performed on a guy

Eddie Munson may be the freak of Hawkins, but he is your best friend. Who is always willing to teach you new things, even when you get new bracelets from your cousin. Eddie will even go as far as teaching & showing you what each one means.

Eddie Munson's Pov:

It has been a week since she jerked me off.

I can't get the image of her face covered with my cum.

"Not bad Eddie." Echoed through my mind randomly and then I get flashes of her cleaning her face with her fingers and then tasting me.

She is acting like that didn't happen.

She is talking about the movie we are seeing at the drive-in tonight.

We are going to a later show so there will be less people around.

"I'll make some popcorn and bring it with us. How does that sound Eddie?"

"Yeah, whatever you want to do is fine." I told her, only half listening.

"I'll grab some of your favourite chocolate as well. Maybe that will put you in a better mood." She said to me.

"I am in a perfectly fine mood." I grumbled.

"I don't know what has your panties in a twist, but please fix it by the time I get back. Remember we are taking your van."

I just flipped her off as she left my trailer, making her laugh loudly at me.

"You know, I thought you would have been more excited for this Sid and Nancy movie." She said to me.

"I am." I tried to say.

"Well, we can always go back to your place if you don't wanna watch it."

"I said I am excited. We are going to watch it." I snapped it.

We got to the Drive-In and picked a spot off to the side, but still have a good view of the screen.

It was a Thursday night, so this place wasn't packed, which I liked right now.

"You know maybe I will just go and sit in one of the seats." I turned my head to face her.

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"You clearly don't what to be near me. You have hardly said a word to me this week." I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous she sounded.

"Of course I want to be near you. You are my best fucking friend." My tone didn't sound nice at all, which I regret.

"Well, what is going on with you Eddie?"

"I am fine." I tried to tell her once more.

"You are lying to me." She opened her door, and got out of my van.

I groaned loudly and hit my steering wheel, opening my door, calling her name.

"Will you just get back in the van. It is cold out here." I tried to tell her, but she didn't stop.

"You are being such a brat." That had her stop and look back at me.

Before I could even blink, she was standing in front of me.

"Me acting like a brat? You have hardly said two words to me all week. Did I do something wrong the other day?" She emphasized the last two words.

"Fuck, no. Look it has something to do with that day, but you did nothing wrong. I will explain if you get back in my van."

"Fine Eddie." She sighed.

◆

I told her everything.

How I couldn't stop thinking about her.

Can't stop thinking about her face covered in my cum.

How she sucked her fingers clean of me.

Even talking about it had me getting hard, and she seemed to be leaning over, getting closer and closer to me.

"I can't stop thinking about that either Eddie." Her hand was on my thigh, rubbing my it, as she worked higher and higher, almost touching where I wanted her hand the most.

I grabbed her wrist, snapping the blue one.

I was going to tell her what it means, but she just smiled. "I know what I means Eddie." As I raised my hips as her and I pulled down my jeans and boxers.

Her hand wrapped around the base of my cock and then I felt her lips wrap around the head, my eyes closing as I let out a moan.

She sucked on the tip, her tongue moving around the slit.

"Oh fuck." I moaned as I looked around, to make sure no one was watching before looking down at the top of her head.

She slowly started to take inch by inch of my cock down her throat until her nose was pressed against my pubic hair.

She didn't move for a few moments, and then she started to move her head.

Her head was moving up and down, faster and faster.

It was messy and I loved ever single second of it. She hardly pulled her mouth away from me.

My hips were raising here and there, making her moan around my cock.

Then she grabbed my hand and placed it on the back of her head.

"Want me to fuck that pretty mouth?" I groaned.

She nodded her head yes and that was all I needed to raise my hips off my seat and fuck her face.

She was moaning around my cock as I muttered lewd words at her, not evening knowing what the hell I even was saying as I fucked her face, just like how I have been dreaming.

"Shit, gonna cum and you gon a swallow for me aren't you? Yeah, you like the taste of my cum. Oh shit, here it cums."

I slammed my hand against the roof of my van as I let out a low moan of her name as the first rope of my cum hit the back of her throat.

I could feel her swallowing as fast as you she could, not to waist a single drop.

She continued to suck even after I stopped coming, my cock just resting in her mouth.

I had to pull her head away from my now oversensitive cock.

She went to open her mouth to speak, but I smashed my mouth against hers, moaning at the fact that I could taste my cum on her lips.

"Gonna take you home." I said against her lips.

"Please Eddie." Was all she needed to say before I was pulling out of the drive-in.

♣︎

Clear (9) ~ (18+) ♥︎ Green (11) ~ (18+)

[authortelevision]

george’s fake wedding plus one ₊˚⊹♡

words: 2,267 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆ george clarke fluff, fake dating, friends to lovers

you have known george for a while and have always been close, when he invites you to his sisters wedding as a ‘fake date’ you both realise maybe the date was fake but the love might not be

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You had been working with the Useless Hotline for two years now and due to that you and George have been close friends for a few years, but that’s all it has ever been. You wished it was more, far more than you’d ever wanted to admit to him. He’d had hookups and so had you, but with George you’d never wanted to be one of the many girls he had fucked, you wanted to love him, hold his hand through the city and kiss under fairy lights. You just wanted George, the boy you had fallen for, the boy who would stay around after the podcast just to lean on the desk of the set and talk to you about his day and what had been happening in his life, not the one on camera, but of his family and his interests.

After tip toeing around it for a few weeks when the cameras were turned off for the day, he asked you if you wanted to come to his sisters wedding, as his date, a fake girlfriend to be more specific. He just didn’t want to disappointed his family with how he hadn’t found a date yet and he knew his sister liked you and with Max and his boyfriend being invited he didn’t want to turn up alone again. He thought you were the perfect one to come along and he didn’t mind lingering his hand on your waist or whispering silly jokes in your ear hoping that the secret affair would seem genuine when you’d push him away playfully.

When the day arrived, you were absolutely terrified. You were so scared of what his extended family would think of you. You knew it fake and that you didn’t have to be worried, but seeing George in his suit waiting outside your house ready for the ‘big show’ was overwhelming. He looked so attractive and put together, checking his phone relentlessly waiting for you to say you were ready. His hair was falling down his face as he gently adjusted his suit.

When you arrived, you felt George’s hand sneak around your waist, leaning closer to whisper into your ear “You look really beautiful by the way,” you felt slightly breathless at the compliment, but part of you knew the touch was just of the act and it hurt a little bit, you wished it was genuine but the lingering feeling of his hand was enough to calm you, you had always wished for this intimacy and you thought you should just embrace the love you would feel tonight.

The reception began, and after a beautiful ceremony filled with heartfelt vows, the guests settle into their seats for dinner. The warm glow of candlelight created an intimate setting as George stood up to deliver his toast. He clutched a champagne flute, and cleared his throat. He looked down at you for a brief moment, lightly smiling as his eyes sparkled with a mix of nerves and excitement.

“Hey everyone! For those of you who don’t know me, I’m George, the Emily’s brother,” he started, his voice slightly shaky but growing steadier with each word. “I just wanted to say how happy I am for my sister and her new husband. They are truly meant for each other. Who would have thought Geo’s older sister would meet someone who is almost as funny as me’

He earned a soft laugh from the crowd and as he continues, the more he drinks, the more sentimental he becomes. Slowly he concludes his speech, sitting down. He looks over at you, a soft smile spreading across his face. He leans over again to whisper in your ear, “And I’m really grateful for having someone as amazing as my lovely not girlfriend girlfriend by my side.” The guests start murmuring, glancing between the two of you. You knew it was because this was the first girl they had seen George with and part of you felt like this act was going a bit too far but you just pushed it down, remembering that George still chose you.

He eventually leans back, your heart races as George’s gaze still lingers on you, filled with warmth and a drunken haze being noticeable as he looks at you through his eyelashes. It feels surreal—his words almost sound like a confession. You can’t help but smile back, feeling a rush of affection.

After the toast, the music begins to play, and the reception begins to feel more comfortable and familiar as you begin drinking more and more. The dance floor fills with guests swaying and twirling under the string lights. George, buoyed by the energy and perhaps a few more sips of champagne, grabs your hand and pulls you onto the dance floor.

As you both dance, laughter begins pouring from your lips, and George spins you around playfully. The warmth of his body against yours feels so right. He leant in closer, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here with me.” The way he looks at you, eyes bright scrunching at the corners with genuine joy, sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

As the night continues, you are pulled away from George by family, you recognise them from photos but the only one you truly knew was George’s beautiful sister. George turns to you, leaning in to gently kiss you on the cheek. The lingering feeling went straight to your face making them warm and brighten, “Good luck beautiful”.

You see George slowly drift away outside, stumbling as he goes, turning back one last time to look back at you, giving you a small wink as he fades away through the crowd.

The garden was glowing from soft string lights that cast a golden hue across the scenery. The night was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the smell of fresh flowers. George’s sister’s wedding has turned out to be more magical than anyone anticipated, and George can’t help but feel proud—and a little overwhelmed as his head starts spinning as he realises how much the champagne and occasional double shot vodka sodas had caught up to him.

The buzz of alcohol adding to the dizzying mixture of emotions he’s been trying to keep at bay all night. Every time he sees you, mingling with his family or laughing with friends, he feels his heart warming in his chest. He brought you here as his pretend date, yet the way you fit so seamlessly into his world tonight has him questioning everything.

Feeling unsteady, he eventually makes it out into the garden, hoping the cool night air will help clear his head. But as he rounds the corner, he nearly walks straight into Max and his boyfriend, Andrew, who are sharing a quiet moment away from the crowd. Max raises an eyebrow as George teeters slightly, a smirk creeping onto his face.

“George,” Max chuckles, steadying him by the shoulder, “How much have you had to drink?”

George laughs, though it’s slightly unsteady, and shrugs. “Maybe a bit more than I thought,” he admits, slurring just slightly. Andrew chuckles as he and Max guide George over to a bench beneath a tree, urging him to sit before he loses his balance entirely.

“You are absolutely gone” Max asks, his tone playful but his eyes gentle. George nods, feeling grateful for the support. The coolness of the bench against his hands is grounding, but not enough to stop his gaze from drifting back to the reception.

From where they’re sitting, he can just make out the dance floor. There, under the twinkling lights, you’re dancing with his sister, laughing as she spins you around. The sight makes his chest ache in a way that’s both comforting and terrifying, like the beginning of something he’s not sure he’s ready to admit.

Max’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “You’ve looked back over there at least three times in the last minute. What’s going on?” he asks, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

George swallows, feeling his heart pounding. He shifts on the bench, letting out a nervous laugh, but his eyes are still fixed on you as you dance. “I… I don’t know, mate,” he begins, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… her.”

Max’s smirk softens, replaced by a more serious expression as he watches his friend. “Come on, George. Tell me what’s actually going on.”

George hesitates, torn between wanting to admit the truth and feeling ridiculous for how vulnerable he’s become. But with Max and Andrew there, it somehow feels safe to confess, like a secret he’s been keeping to himself for too long. He lets out a shaky sigh, his gaze still trained on you, swaying to the music with that easy, genuine smile he’s come to love.

“I think… I think,” he stops himself for a moment “No it’s so dumb I’m literally 24, it’s so embarrassing.. fuck it whatever, I think I actually love her,” he says quietly, the words slipping out almost as if they’d been waiting to be spoken aloud. Saying it feels strange but also freeing, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Max’s face breaks into a wide smile, while Andrew gives him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “You are such a big fat fucking idiot,” Max says, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “You literally spend hours every week waiting around for her at the studio like a lost dog, you literally message her like every night and only now are you thinking you like her”

George groans, laughing as he buries his face in his hands. “Yeah, something like that,” he mumbles, feeling both foolish and exhilarated. “I just thought if I brought her here, it’d be easier to keep things casual. But now… seeing her here, with everyone, and knowing how she just… fits…” He trails off, lost in the thought.

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “You know, George, you might just be the most oblivious man I’ve ever met. But if you ask me, now’s the time to go for it.” He nudges George, his grin full of encouragement. “You’ve been staring at her like that all night like a freak, just talk to her or I’ll tell everyone you paid her to come.”

After a quick hug from George’s sister and a few warm words, you glance back and spot George outside, sat under a tree decorated with fairy lights. He’s with Max and Andrew, who are laughing and chatting with him, but something about his posture—softened, maybe a bit nervous—makes you pause. You catch his eye and give him a wave, and he offers a perfectly white smile in return, watching you as you make your way over.

As you approach, Max and Andrew turn to greet you, both of them smiling knowingly. “We’ll let you two talk,” Max says with a wink, nudging George’s arm in a way that makes you feel a pit in your stomach. “Come on, Andrew. I think we need another drink.” Andrew smiles at you and gives you a quick wave before letting Max pull him back inside, leaving you alone with George.

There’s a moment of quiet as you sit down resting your head on George’s soldier under the fairy lights, surrounded by the soft sounds of the celebration drifting in from the reception. You remove your head and George looks at you, swallowing harshly as he scans your face, briefly focusing on your lips to then stare affectionately into your eyes. He opens his mouth as if to speak. But before he can say anything, you feel your heart racing, and you find yourself blurting out, “George, wait—I need to say something.”

He pauses, a bit startled, but nods for you to go on, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I know this was supposed to be pretend,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly, looking away from his gaze, “but like.. I don’t know, it’s dumb I’m sorry, it stopped feeling like that for me. I’ve been trying to keep things casual, but…” You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “I think I actually love you. I don’t expect you to feel the same way, and you don’t have to say anything, but I couldn’t leave tonight without telling you.”

For a split second, there’s silence. But then, without a word, George steps forward, his sparkling blue eyes locked on yours, and he cups your face in his hands. His touch is warm and soft, and before you can say anything else, he leans down and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is gentle and full of a feeling that’s been building for so long. Underneath the twinkling fairy lights, surrounded by the quiet of the night, you lose yourself in the moment, feeling the weight of every unspoken word drift away. His hands trail down to your waist, pulling you closer, you wrap your arms around him as though you’ve been waiting forever for this.

When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice soft. “Fuck,” he whispers with a grin. “I was going to tell you the same thing.”

A smile breaks across your face, your heart soaring as you laugh, unable to believe this is real. “Really?” you ask, still breathless from the kiss.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice warm and sure. “I think I fell in love with you long before tonight. I just needed this to realise how much I truly like you.”

He leans in again, and under the cold bite of the night’s sky, you kiss once more, knowing this is only the beginning of something you’ve both been waiting for, far longer than either of you realized.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

author note: i’m so so proud of this one i hope you like it !!

[thehereticdiaries]

A (Not So) Meet Cute: Chapter Two

Chapter Summary: You finally get home, the skz boys talk about you, and you get added to a very chaotic group chat (sorry i kinda suck at summaries)

Warnings: None for this chapter, it's mostly building plot

Series Masterlist

Chan held your elbow to steady you as you stepped over the shattered glass on the ground. Once outside, you started towards the closest bus stop, eager to get back to your apartment and take a goddamn nap. 

“Where are you going?” The grip Chan had on your elbow tightened slightly, stopping you from walking away. His eyebrows were furrowed, and you mirrored his expression.

“To the bus stop? How else am I supposed to get home?” This felt like an obvious answer to you. 

“Nah, I already messaged one of our drivers. He’ll be here any minute now to bring us to your apartment,” Chan explained. Your eyebrows shot up toward your hairline. 

“Us?”

“I’m not about to let you take public transport by yourself with your phone dead. You’ve had enough excitement for one day, yeah?” A car pulled up right as you opened your mouth to protest. Chan opened the back door, tilting his head like he was daring you to say no. You sighed but climbed into the backseat, scooting over when Chan got in next to you. 

“Hey Dohyun, thank you for getting here so quickly,” Chan greeted the driver. He dipped his head in a quick bow to return the greeting, then looked at you. You told the elder the name of your apartment building and he quickly returned to the road. The car was comfortably quiet, the only sound being a soft jazz melody. You stared out the window, trying to process the events of your day. All too quickly Dohyun was parking the car in a visitor spot in the apartment’s garage. You and Chan both unbuckled your seat-belts and you shot him yet another confused look.

“I don’t want to overstep your boundaries here. You can totally tell me to piss off, but I’d feel more comfortable if I could walk you to your apartment. I want to make sure your phone turns back on and my text went through,” Chan rambled in your stunned silence. “You don’t have to, of course, but-”

“Chan, it’s fine. You can come up for a bit,” you interrupted. Chan looked genuinely relieved. You shook your head and stepped out of the car. What the fuck was your life right now?! The Bang Chan was in your apartment, sitting on your couch. You focused on keeping your composure while plugging in your phone. 

“You’re going to press charges, right?” 

“Oh, um, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Maybe?” Your statement sounded more like a question. Chan shot you a look that you couldn’t decipher. 

“The other boys and I will help, you know. We’ll testify against that man,” Chan insisted. Your heart swelled with gratitude and admiration for the leader. You stomped down on the butterflies fluttering around your stomach.

Don’t get it twisted, Y/N, he’s being nice because you went through a traumatic event. He doesn’t- your thoughts were cut off by your phone vibrating endlessly on your desk. 

“Jesus, it figures I’d get a million notifications on the only day my phone is dead,” you mumbled in English and picked your phone up. Chan snickered behind his hand. You ignored most of the notifications for now, opting to look for Chan’s text first. You could go through the rest after he left. 

“You get it?” You nodded and sent a message back to him so he’d have your number. “Good. I should get back to the studio to make sure the boys are alright.” Chan stood. You walked him to your door, and he turned back to you once he was in the hallway.

“Seriously, I can’t thank you all enough. I don’t know what would have happened if Seungmin didn’t show up,” you repeated. Chan smiled but shook his head slightly.

“Is it alright if I give your number to everyone else?” 

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Alright, remember to text one of us if you need any help with the court process. Or just text us for fun. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we’d like to get to know you.” Your cheeks heated and you lost the ability to form a coherent sentence, so you just nodded. Chan looked very pleased with this. With a small wave, he strolled down the hallway toward the elevators. You closed your door, leaning your forehead against the wood to calm yourself. 

Chan returned to the car and hopped back into the backseat. Dohyun raised his eyebrows, giving the younger man a knowing look. Chan rolled his eyes but couldn’t contain his grin.

“Just get back to the studio, please,” he pleaded. Dohyun chuckled but didn’t inquire any further. 

Back at the studio, the other members of Stray Kids were discussing everything that happened while they helped clean up the mess. 

“How the hell did you manage to get such a cute girl’s attention?” Changbin poked Seungmin on the cheek. The younger swatted his hand away.

“Dude, she was being followed by a man she didn’t know,” Seungmin scoffed. “I happened to be the first person that went into the cafe.”

“Hey I had no idea what was going on!” Changbin held his hands up in surrender. “I came out here to Minho cursing and talking about calling the cops. Next thing I know, a brick is breaking our door and you and Chan are getting in some guy’s face.”

“You waited that long to see why we all left the recording booth?” Jisung teased. Changbin rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t notice you leaving, I was messing with the backing vocal track.” Seungmin dragged a hand down his face at the rapper’s obliviousness. Felix filled him in with an abridged version of the situation. 

“Oh, shit.”

“Wait, you didn’t know what was happening and yet you joined the fight anyway?” Seungmin quipped with his eyebrows raised. 

“I wouldn’t really call it a fight,” Felix commented. Seungmin glared at him half-heartedly. 

“You and Chan got up in the guy’s face. I trust you both, so I figured he must have done something to deserve it,” Changbin explained. The rumble of an engine interrupted them. Moments later, Chan was stepping through the broken door. Multiple voices spoke over each other until Chan raised a hand.

“Guys, guys, one at a time,” he sighed. “Before you even ask: yes she’s home safe and yes she said I can give everyone her number.” Jisung sprung up, phone in hand. “Jisung, chill. I’ll send her contact to the group chat.”

“You couldn’t have done that on your way back?” Hyunjin asked incredulously. The eldest just shrugged in response before sending your phone number to the “single father of seven” (Seungmin was to blame for the name) group chat. 

“You’re sure she got to her apartment?” Seungmin questioned. Chan nodded, still distracted by his phone.

“Yea, I waited with her until her phone turned on.”

“You got to go into her apartment?!” Jisung shook Chan’s shoulder. “You cheater!”

“What?! How and why am I a cheater?”

“You got to spend alone time with Y/N!” He accused. “You’re trying to get her to like you more.” Chan rolled his eyes at Jisung’s shit-eating grin. 

“You’re a menace,” Chan snickered. “Alright, we’re done for today. Let’s get back to the dorms.” The boys filed out of the studio. A second car had joined the one Dohyun occupied. Chan, Minho, Seungmin, and Jeongin climbed into Dohyun’s car while everyone else got in the other. 

“Hey, Chan?” Seungmin started.

“Yes, I told her that she should press charges and that we would help if she wanted it,” Chan answered before he could even ask the question. Seungmin closed his mouth, a little annoyed that he was so obvious but mostly relieved that you knew they would be there for you. The car fell to silence as they chatted in the newly made group, this one including you. 

You: I seriously can’t believe I’m texting Stray Kids right now :0

Jeongin: are you stay?

Seungmin: obviously not, if she didn’t recognize me lmao

You: hey!! I was a little distracted >:(

You: but to answer your question, i listen to your music sometimes but i wouldn’t say i’m a true stay

Jisung: booooooo! 

Hyunjin: im offended

Chan: pls chill i am begging

Felix: yea, its not that big a deal. we can turn her into a stay >:3c

You: oh sweet baby jesus, should i be scared?

Jisung: no

Hyunjin: no

Felix: no

Seungmin: yes 🙄

You: …………

Chan: im so sorry 

You giggled throughout the conversation. Sure, you were a little starstruck but you were definitely playing up your nervousness. It was funny watching them argue amongst themselves. You spent the rest of your afternoon half paying attention to a new show on Netflix, but most of your focus was on the group chat (which Jisung lovingly named “certified yappers”). You had an oddly warm feeling in your chest bloom as you learned more about the personalities hidden behind the idol image. 

You: i need to go to bed, i have work in the morning. gn guys!

You got a chorus of “goodnight” texts from everyone except for Seungmin. Oh, well. He might have fallen asleep already. No use worrying about it, you thought to yourself while going through your night time routine. Another text came through right after you settled under your blankets. You gaped at the message.

Seungmin: im walking you to work tomorrow. dont even bother arguing, ill meet you outside your building at 8:30. goodnight, Y/N

[leynaeithnea]

*comes in dancing to hide the tears*

Soooo, a winion told me you have thoughts on Not sorry for loving you?

WE’RE SO BACK MY LOVE (i was the winion)

OKAY LETS GET GOING THANK YOU MY FRIEND

Not Sorry For Loving You

BOY, i was worried about this song & how it made the events play out considering the odyssey, and I’m satisfied enough with it and I have A LOT to say (i think)

First we start out with the same….tip-tap thingy instrument we had with Love In Paradise, but lower, which DEF is something specifically in music and I’m excited for the musican reactors on youtube start to react to it, and pick it apart (like major/minor)

But its an exact mirror of the beginning of Ody waking up at Calypsos island, is it because things on the island stay the same I wonder? Mhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (its so beautiful)

Someone arrived today (HERMES , we can hear her take a breath and brace herself for what she has to tell Ody)

They said they′re taking you away (FUCKING FINIALLY, ITS ONLY BEEN WHAT, 7 YEARS???)

That you’re not mine to save (Oh…OH now this one…this can refer to several things 1. calypso “saved” him when he washed up on her island and patched him up 2. she thought she could “save” him from his dark thoughts and everything? “i can fix him” vibes? 3. shes talking about herself and “youre not the one who will safe me”)

And soon I won′t get to see your face (…….i know this probably because of rhyming purposes, but i like how this kind of implies she cares more about his looks than him xD)

So I came by to say (interesting, does she leave him alone completely, did she start leaving him alone after his breakdown at the cliff? or does she just not tend to go to the beach when hes sitting at the beach crying every day? mhhhhhh)

You’re unlike anyone I have ever known (…he is unique)

‘Cause you′re all I′ve ever known (…….thats just sad, i teared up at some part during the stream, im not sure if it was this or the end of charybdis,..but yeah)

WANGUIS VOCALS ARE BEAITUFUL; THE MUSIC- ITS

ITS SO GOOD, im in love

And if I pushed you

Or if I came on too strong (“if”, ok…miss hypothetical, and miss “i” messages, if she pushed him, he literally refused her from the start and she kept going and told him to bow down………….”if”, as in “thats what you say I did and maybe thats true but probably you made that up”, can i see this as her just now looking back and being like “yeah….maybe that was too much?”, maybe, but if this was the first time in seven years that she reflected on her own actions, then she has ISSUES still)

Or if I ambushed you (the song keeps things very vague, but I see this as a way for Jorge to semi-confirm the assault, or at least to not erase it, ive seen a lot of conflicting views on the song, from “not specfic enough about the SA as it should be” and “this song proofs that calypso is innocent” and Jorge probably found a way to let both interpreations co-exist, that being said I will be excited for animatics that will lean into the more Odyssey-accurate interpreation)

For that, I’ll say I was wrong (you say you were wrong, but you dont say you’re sorry for it?… aha)

And if you hate me (“if” you hate me, not like she FORCED him to stay on her island for SEVEN YEARS, girlie aint you the one trapped too in this interpretation? :) :) :) u should know how it feels, if you had ANY sympathy and goodwill for him at heart instead of selfishness you would’ve let him go years ago, like….7 years)

Then I am sorry my love′s too much for you (THIS is the biggest proof to me that this whole song is just BIG emotional manipulation, “my love is too much for you”, she blames HIM, for her feelings, like he is at fault that he cant deal with her emotions, instead of her being able to respect his boundaries and keep herself in check after his INSISTENT refusal), again the VOCALS THO

But I’m not sorry for loving you (eh, valid, but also rly guilt tripy, yk? You dont have to be sorry for your feeligns, but you have to be sorry about the way you act if it harms someone (WHICH YOU JUST TALKED BAOUT BUT DIDNT APOLOGIZE FOR, so shes not sorry for loving him, she - on some level – understands that she has hurt him, but she doesnt say shes sorry for her actions)

AND THEN A CHOIR to back her up? there was none in Love in Paradise, so its interesting that one appears now, is it because her emotions are stronger now and they’re overwhelming her? is she trying to use her godly power to convince him to stay? no matter what, they sound lovely, and i gasped when i first listened and had to replay it them, it does kind of sound like theyre trying to pressure ody

“Calypso-” THATS pretty much all he gets to say, MY HEART, he tries to speak, having let her vent that all out but…)

Let me speak (SHE INSTANT INTERRUPTS HIM?? THE AUDACITY? GIRL SHUT UP AND LET THE MAN SPEAK, another BIG red flag of this being a lot of emotional manipulation here, especially since she continues with giving her “sad sob story/explanation”, right after its like “yah i did bad but look at my sad story, this is why I did all this, you cant blame me)

I spent my whole life here (isnt it paradise calypso??? doesnt it have all that you want there, all that you need there?? mmhhhhhhhhHHHH someone was dishonest >:) )

Was cast away when I was young (sad, yeah i do feel bad for her about this, but that does not excuse her actions)

Alone for a hundred years (thats a long time i suppose, but for a goddess maybe not that much

I had no friends but the sky and sun (actually love that line)

So when you washed ashore I thought for sure that you were my dream come true (….ah, yes, that makes sense, latching onto the first good thing you come across, hopeless romantic, but being completely blind to the fact that the thing has free will, is actually a human with complex feelings and you were so obsessed with the IDEA of having someone who loved you that you extremely hurt them an,. ofc its the psychological explanation, of course she deserves better, but how she acted was NOT okay, no matter her reasoning)

I thought I knew (you knew…what? thats interesting that she doesnt end that line…and i honestly cant figure out what she implies there, she thoguht she knew that he loved her? that he DOESNT love her, she thought she knew what love felt like? what being loved felt like? OR thought she knew that he was a gift send by the gods? (as it is in the Odyssey iirc..Im not sure on this rn tho, so dont quote me)

The music…is so fricking beautiful in this….we have another refrain, but this time the choir backs her up on the words for “you, too strong, you, was wrong, me, and then the Uuh build up for the the not sorry for loving you”, which just emphases the words again i suppose, and makes her get more emotional? mhhhh not sure! it sounds great tho)

“Im not sorry”, so in the end, even IF she was wrong….shes not sorry, whatever she did to hurt him, the base line is, that she’s not sorry. She should be.

I′m angry and tired and restless and sad (valid feelings, but its all about how you express those…maybe you should get therapy)

I’m stuck in the moments I swore that we had (you swore, but maybe, maybe you just imagined them, because you were so desperate to believe there was actually any love from him, that you made yourself believe his rejections ended up being signs of love after all…thats not healthy, get therapy, rip to jorge tho, i believe i saw a thing that said he wrote it when he was in a low point in life, Id think hes better now, but still, unreciprocated love DOES hurt a lot, so ouchy)

I wish you would chase me (the way that you chase him….mhm)

Or try to embrace me (but he never does because even after SEVEN YEARS, he somehow hasnt warmed up yet….)

For once, I wish you would lie and say (……aha, like him lying would make any difference? because then you could make yourself believe that what you did wasnt wrong? that theres hope for you? girlie you have to learn to accept that, if you want him to lie to you, youre in a BAD spot. do fricking better.)

I love you (…………..okay……okay, so…..that line makes the whole song controversial….from the animatic we saw that right after these lines odysseus turns away with an empty/determined expression and no regret or guilt on his face what-so ever, and we can also hear that his voice sounds desperate, dare i saw close to breakdown (slightly out of breath, because he interrupts her, trying to get a word in, my first interpretation was that he was worried and tired, and gave in to her demands, scared to refuse her)

and then theres a breaths pause

You do? (she sounds so HOPEFUL, like she ACTUALLY would believe him if he said it, and i think in this moment Odysseus too realizes that just saying him him, would make it worse, so he sort of back paddles a bit?)

But not in the way that you want me to (because i see not a single clue in the rest of the music that would indicate that he as any positive emotions for her, and i rly just cant imagine him feeling any positive emotions for her even if she did NOTHING else than keeping him on the island, (which is VERY unlikely imo), but its also interesting because thats pretty much as well as vague as the odyssey leaves it, so its kindaaa more accurate again? except that we do not get any cue about ody’s view on the whole situation, we see him sitting at the beach, yes, but we dont get a single “as she wished but he did not” moment…so, thats up to the animators or maybe, maybe, one day jorge confirming or denying anything….but yeah, whatever Calypso feels, Odysseus does reciprocate the sentiment, I like thinking that she did try to guilt-trip into staying and that he ACTUALLY feels guilty for leaving her……….the rest of the saga has elements where I will read A LOT more into the scenes than is written out, so i might be over-analysing them at some point and projecting what I want it to mean into it…but alas)

I hate that I fell in love with you (yeah understandable)

Why did I fall in love with you? (because you were lonely girlie)

What do I do with this love for you? (process it and move on eventually, you got eternity to get over it)

How am I supposed to get over you? (therapy)

Why in the world won′t you love me too? (because HE HAS A WIFE WHO HAS BEEN LOING FOR FOR 20 YEARS )

The ending music is beautiful, but aT LAST he is sailing off

[brrdhouse]

OH MY GOSHHH

ok so i made another checklisttt of stuff i wanted to cover and today has been... draining (tomorrow too, probably. and the day after that. voting age american during election week, i'll probably be dry and drained until the results come out lol) so this is just gonna be shorttt and bullet-pointy straight from my notes app:

taking your own advice and saying that it's not ENTIRELY ooc, different things can happen and if being the axolotl's friend and being gay for this guy from new jersey is what's making him sympathetic, then so be it. i do love your bill though—tired chaos god and his terrarium

I AM SO IN LOVE WITH STORIES WHERE GODS SPLIT THEIR POWERS AMONG MORTALS. dopamine, straight into my bloodstream

your northwest characterizations are so fun to me. like yes, in lieu of monetary gain they'd use their daughter's status. yes! YES!!

ODY THE SHAPESHIFTER?? obsessed. him being friends with the teenagers is so cute. what isn't cute is what you said next :( fucked up and evil, i say. for shame.

so curious to where stan went but.. i'll let you keep your secrets

and finally: yes!! angry, grieving robbie and cold, numb wendy!! i love their dynamic here and how their zodiacs are impacting them!! he is such a bleeding heart, i love him :( their fight was so fun to read, i haven't thought much on them conflicting in a lot of my aus but now.. now i'm considering it... not for this one, but for one of my many. other aus. i have a problem it seems

eek thats all i have, again its late and im drained but i LOVED this addition, i am so excited for anything else you wanna say on it

teen gideon headcanons because i love him :] i am constantly thinking about him and how he's the only zodiac member (and honestly, only main-ish character because of the book of bill and the website) that doesn't get a sympathetic moment, other than POSSIBLY the finale but that barely counts

i think he deserves to have a SORT OF redemption, at least internally, because he took dipper's advice in weirdmageddon to heart. even if he gets over his crush on mabel (which i think he does. mom said its my canon now) theres still the truth of "people wont wanna be around you if youre a selfish prick"

anyways he makes me emotional so i'm giving him attention

im scared tumblr will kill the quality on my tiny handwriting so transcription under the cut:

after turning like 15, he just starts traveling, gets out of oregon and hits the ground running

uses my headcanon (?) that the amulet takes years from you, and gideon probably won't live past his 20s

he finds this out, has a total mid-life (literally) crisis at 14-15 and decides to do anything "normal" he can do because he doesn't have long to do it

ofc he still has anger issues and obsesses over people and everything else, but he's a lot better at managing it [than] when he was a kid

he doesn't care if he dies with people still hating him, but he wants it to be known that he tried

[bikananjarrus]

can i just say it felt so fucking GOOD to have good, well-executed, fast-paced (!!) lightsaber fight choreography. the fights were exciting! each character had their own distinct style that matched their abilities and size! they were fast!!!!!! hands down the best saber fights we’ve seen in live-action sw in a long time.

[koko2unite]

[imgonnagetyoubacktv]

pata hai last kuch din i was very busy with my project kyunki final dena tha and binding karni thi etc to wo karwayi then i went to the bookfair bekaar tha then parso submit karne jaa rahi to subah accident hogaya (bhai ki bike skid hogayi and we fell down) and now i have a big ass blue bruise on my upper thigh and my parents don't even know lmao and kal ek science conference thi to i had to sit in an auditorium for 6 hours listening to accomplished people speak. that's what you missed now your turn

omg i knew everything in this except for the accident cause i stalk your blog vigorously everyday are you okay!!!!!!!!!! did you get tetanus shots!!!!!!!!!! also on your upper thigh oh no that's where future jiju is supposed to write MINE na as per our beloved song guilty as sin?

[b4kuch1n]

I lied I think it’s fun to draw animals sometimes

[monachopism]

am i autistic or am i just paranoid. level: impossible