#eh it’s like 3am now

[clickabletale]

Late Night Brainstorming— 😪✨

So I’m planning to update Shizu’s reference sheet for a more polished one, as well as introducing more characters relevant to Shizu’s story.

Aside from her adoptive family with the baroness, I’m picturing Shizu would get her own fellow group of engineers in Clarines to learn from and train with to sharpen her skills. 👀

Now, it’s not an easy start for her especially considering the location she grew up in, Erith, was practically isolated and more old school than Clarines. Shizu is practically just starting pretty fresh as an adult and keeping close to the people who helped her first (Shirayuki and Obi.)

Not to mention Lady Bashira, you’ll see soon but with her horrible methods she wouldn’t be encouraging to progressive living/actively against it— 💀

So I’m planning to challenge myself with it, Shizu not being accepted for her skills so easily or deemed “amateur” as she trains to make it up there with them and sometimes be able to call the shots in this line of work. 😤

[alloutshirt]

they should start a band 🎸🖤

[dont-offend-the-bees]

There is Literally no reason for me to stay up and watch the rwrb movie the moment it drops i have read the book and will not be spoiled for this cheesy romcom but my stupid Don't Sleep Or Tomorrow Will Start brain is going and latching on to the idea of there being a New Thing and therefore and Incentive to stay awake

[imflyingfish]

i dont have any textiles projects to draw from so i borrowed @yourfriendphoenix's ^_^

the pattern reminded me of painted terracotta tiles :]

Design a character based off of an embroidery/knitting/crochet/other form of fiber arts project you've created!

[cranberryjuice-posts]

Hi, I wanted to ask for a Clarisse fanfic where the reader is gifted in the arts? I would also like to ask that the reader be a daughter of Hades :)

What’s a girl to do

Pairings - Clarisse La rue x daughter of hades! Fem! Reader

An - this lowkey sucked but YALL will live

You had always been gifted in the arts. From dance, music, art itself and even theater.

Being that you were a hades kid most kids avoided you, not that because your dad was the king of the underworld but because just being around you gave them an unsettling feeling.

Something every great artist had was a muse, someone they could go to for inspiration, someone that gave their work meaning. But you? You didn’t have a muse.

Sure you’ve had inspiration come from all types of media but never once did you have an actual person you could call your muse.

That had changed though when you met clarisse. It started out small with small doodles of her. Then she started to show up as small details in your song lyrics. And even going as far as using her as your model in your photos

You two were friends.. but you knew you wanted more then that.

——

Clarisse spun her spear around on the sandy beach. She was so in the moment that she hadn’t heard the sound of your camera going off.

She ended in a pose with her spear tucked under her arm. Panting that’s when she realized you were sitting near by.

“You know its creepy to take photos of people without their knowledge right”

“Eh you’ll live” you smiled. Clarisse had always been beautiful even in situations like now where she was panting and sweaty from her workout.

You walked over towards her smiling sat the picture

She was a natural. The way clarisse moved her body it was like she was meant to be infront of the camera.

subconsciously you started leaning into her to show her the photo. “this one here, I like how your curls kinda spun around with you, you know” You smiled, clarisse nodded placing a hand around your waist, she had always done that but it didn’t mean it didn’t get you flustered everytime.

“Mmhm” she stuck her spear in the ground before reaching over placing her free hand onto yours clicking back on the camera to a photo of her standing with her spear pointed down the sun hitting her at a certian angle adding dramatics. “this one is better”

“Well I think both are fine” you smiled looking over at clarisse. Your faces were close. So close if you even just moved a little you might accidentally kiss.

You waited for clarisse to do something, to move away and tell you to piss off but she didn’t. Instead you started to feel her rub circles on your hip.

Almost out of a movie mark clarisses bother appeared. “Clarisse!” He yelled gaining the now irritated girls attention.

“The hell do You want Mark im busy” she looked over at him not wanting to deal his bullshit. “It’s Sam and Jane, they got into another fight and are in the infirmary now Chiron wants to see you about it all”

You watched as clarisses closed her eyes trying to calm down even a little. She looked back at you before squeezing your hip and letting go to head off to beat her siblings.

You stood there frozen and embarrassed. Clarisse didn’t like you. There was no way if anything she liked silena. Clarisse only saw you as a friend…

Right..

——

Around 3am you decided to sneak out of your cabin not able to sleep.

Lazily walking around the camp trying to not get caught you noticed a familiar girl jumping out the ares cabin window. Using shadow travel you quickly moved to stand beside the cabin.

Clarisse sighed as she landed on the ground, silently closing the window “since when did you sneak out”

“Fuck!” She whisper yelled having to pull her hand back from hitting you. “What the hell are you doing out here”

“Selling hardcore drugs— now you tell me why your ever so quietly leaving your cabin” you sarcastically spoke. Clarisse rolled her eyes in defiance. “Your a pain in my ass you know” she scoffed.

You shrugged your shoulders. “You’ve said worse to Me” starting to follow the girl into the forest you took in the scenery.

The full moon brought you a sense of comfort, mainly in the fact that the goddess nyx had always brought protection to people in need through the veil of night.

Clarisse continued until she came to a clearing in the woods, high on the mountian side and far enough away from the camp you wouldn’t get caught but high enough you could see the stretched out lake.

“Wow..” you whispered. “I never new this spot existed”

“That’s supposed to be the point”

“Is this where you take girls to makeout with them then torture them before k—“

“I’m not some insane serial killer dumbass” clarisse laughed pushing you softly before sitting down. You followed her lead sitting a little to close to her.

After a few moments you watched as clarisse silently complained befote grabbing some Kindle Wood arranging it to make a small fire. Using a lighter most likely taken from the big house.

After sitting back watching the fire clarisse looked over at you. “How long have you been doing all this shit”

You raised an eyebrow confused. “You mean photography” you chuckled, Clarisse nodded in response her face unreadable.

You sighed for a moment “uhh I’m not really sure, I just I’ve always had a passion for the arts and been naturally gifted in them, I like photography the best with painting being right underneath though” you tucked some hair behind your ear slightly embarrassed.

“Why me” she continued to asked. “Like out of every camper here why am I the one you take the most photos of me”

“Well I Ju—“

“Wait wait don’t tell me you like me” clarisse laughed at the end of her statement. You went to speak but decided to stay quiet letting clarisse finish her laughing fit it. She soon stopped looking over with a playful face. “Wait seriously.. you use me as your muse because you like me”

You started to get up embarrassed walking away quickly not wanting to listen to the girl yelling after you. About five steps into your leave clarisse grabbed your arm. “Gods damnit can you just wait” she huffed.

“Yeah because I just love being laughed at thanks clarisse” you tried to pull your arm away but it was pointless “you know it’s actually really shitty to laugh at someone when you find out they like yo—“

You were cut off by clarisse grabbing your head and crashing her lips against yours. Not caring how messy it was, clarisse kept a firm hold on your head while grabbing your waist pushing you against her.

The kiss moved from messy to controlled. You let clarisse hold you close, soft breaths leaving both your mouths not wanting to pull away but still needing to breathe.

Pulling away you felt clarisses hot breath on your lips. “Do you ever stop talking” she asked now with her hand on the side of your face comfortingly rubbing circles. You rolled your eyes but kept quiet, your arms around clarisses neck.

Clarisses kissed you once again slowly, she pulled away kissing your cheek. “I like you to dumbass”

“Really..?”

“Uh yeah you really think I let anyone take photos and draw me?”

You playfully pushed the girls shoulder before pulling her back into a grinful kiss

“Great now that we’re together can we please go back to the fire it’s cold as shit out here”

“Whatever La rue”

[artbyerry]

Hey there's a part II now!

Did I stay up to 3am to draw a very silly joke? Yes I did lol.

They weren’t supposed to look like kids and it might actually ruined the joke but eh.

Kids…

[wanderingelvis]

Hey I don’t know if your doing requests rn but I had this idea. Maybe like an innocent reader x Elvis and she broke a glass and cut herself on accident and she keeps apologizing because her dad would get mad at her for that and he has to convince her it’s not her fault. Maybe ending in smut? Whatever you wanna do I just thought it was a cool idea

Thank you for the request! I really hope you like it! 🧚

🧚 Masterlist 🧚

Word Count: 2,649

Pairing: Late 60s!Elvis x Innocent F!Reader

Warnings: PTSD, mentions of ab*se (verbal and physical)

You were a little ball of sunshine in Elvis' life. A sensitive little ball of sunshine at that. You quite often reminded Elvis of a little puppy dog, just eager and desperate for his love and attention, always looking at him with those big, round eyes of yours, filled with admiration and adoration for the big old man. 

Your love for Elvis didn't come from nowhere though, he equally showered you with affection and love from the moment he first interacted with you. He became enamoured with your playful and soft giggles and your incessant babbling that he found utterly adorable.

Elvis picked up early on that you had some underlying issues. He would notice you flinch at a loud noise or a raised voice, the way you'd instantly stop talking if someone began to speak over you, the way you'd trip over your words when any sort of confrontation would occur. He knew that there must have been something in your past that had created those behaviours and he was right.

You opened up to him about your past and your upbringing early on in your relationship with Elvis after Elvis had asked you about your childhood. You'd told Elvis tentatively, all about the tense and aggressive environment that you grew up in, and even when you'd trip over you words or start to feel anxious when recalling the events, Elvis hushed you, telling you to take your time, everything was okay and that you were his special girl now.

Since then, you'd really gone from strength to strength, you were this little diamond on Elvis' arm, charming everyone just like Elvis did, and together, you really were the new 'it' couple. 

You were so eager to please everyone but most importantly Elvis, that you would wear yourself out, trying so hard to impress him that you'd often end up becoming drowsy at 8pm, nodding off in Elvis' strong hold as he would laugh and chat with the Mafia. 

Elvis didn't mind one bit, he thought there was no cuter sight than you drifting off whilst clinging to him as if he were your security blanket or nighttime teddy bear. Once Elvis was sure that you'd be fully asleep, he'd always excuse himself from whatever was going on to carry you to your shared room and put you into bed, knowing that the worst thing for you would be to fall asleep only to be woken up by someone getting drunk and starting to holler and wake you up and mess up your routine. 

You truly were Elvis' little baby, he treated you like a princess and you truly were head over heels in love with the big, old, rockstar.

The two of you being the social butterflies you were meant that you loved a crowded house, hosting parties for any event, Christmas, Halloween, 4th of July - heck, even if it was a Friday, that would be enough to warrant an extravagant party.

And that's exactly what had happened, a lavish party in December had taken place in Graceland where the Mafia, their wives, a few fans and fellow musicians had all attended in what could only have been described as an 'early Christmas' in Graceland, with endless drinks, cigars, and laughter. 

It was about 3am and everyone had left apart from a few members of the Mafia, Lamar, Sonny, Charlie and Joe, all in the Jungle room relaxing with you nestled into Elvis' side, completely wiped and a little tipsy from the expensive champagne that Elvis had let you drink.

"Why dontchu be a doll n'go n'get us some drinks eh, Y/N? Might wanna make a start on the mess while yer at it?" Charlie laughed, nodding at you. 

You blinked a couple of times and rubbed your eyes, the excitement of the party taking its toll on your little body before you nodded, pushing your body up from where it rested by Elvis. 

"That how you talk to a little girl huh, Charlie? No wonder you're goddamn single," Elvis retorted sharply, with an ever so bitter chuckle at the end of his pointed comment, clearly agitated at some other fella telling you what to do.

See, Elvis knew that you craved praise and even more so, you were absolutely desperate to avoid any sort of conflict or trouble, so you'd always do anything that anyone asked of you. Naturally, this could lead to people taking advantage of your sweet state but that's where Elvis was perfect for you. His authoritative and dominant presence meant that people would seldom cross him just to get you to do some task they were too lazy to do. 

Elvis reached over with his cold, ring clad fingers wrapping around your tender wrist, holding you in place. "Uh-uh." Elvis tsked, making you stop in your tracks. "Don't you move baby, Charlie's a big boy, he can get himself a drink if he needs one."

"Oh, no, Elvis it's okay! Really, I don't mind, it's okay!" You said earnestly.

"I know you don't mind darlin', but you're readin' your fun little magazine, no need for you to be bothered hm? Charlie can do it himself just fine." Elvis said, just about managing to shoot Charlie another stern look.

"S'okay! I was gon' get myself a drink anyways! A hot lemon and tea, I think I hurt my throat from how much I was talkin'!" You sleepily giggled, the angelic sound quelling Elvis' frustrations, you were just so heavenly. Elvis equally knew that you'd just be sitting and feeling anxious if he kept you by his side so he released his tender grip on you, tapping his cheek with his finger, indicating he wanted a kiss from you.

You complied docilely, bending down to press a kiss on Elvis cheek, a soft giggle leaving your lips afterwards as you skipped off to the kitchen, leaving Charlie to the wrath of Elvis.

You carefully prepared the tea and got Charlie's favourite drink sorted too - an Old Fashioned, biting down on your lip as you tried to get the measurements just right! 

It wasn't until you were carrying the tray of tea and cocktails that everything fell apart - quite literally. 

The damned carpet corner wasn't properly pinned down, making you trip over your own feet just like Bambi, sending the tray, along with its contents flying and tumbling down onto the pristine carpet, the glass and china shattering  everywhere. 

You gasped and immediately your heart dropped and sheer panic set in. Your clumsiness, whilst adored by Elvis, had not been your fathers favourite trait of yours, with violent punishments incurring whenever you'd make a little mistake and those punishments had had a lasting impact on you. Obviously, this caused your body to go into automatic panic and defence as you knelt down, trying to clear up the glass and china shards before anyone that heard the accident came running through.

As tears began to pool in your eyes, making your vision cloudy and your breathing became erratic with panic and fear of being punished, you didn't even register the shards of glass cutting through the skin on your knees and the palms of your hands. 

You began to create more mess than tidy it as droplets of blood now began to drip onto the carpet as you frantically tried to wipe away your tears, smudging the pretty black eye makeup Elvis had so lovingly put on you for the party. 

That's when you began to hear footsteps and you dared not look up when you heard Elvis' familiar deep Southern voice.

"Baby?" Elvis said lowly, concern lacing his voice that you mistook for disappointment.

"M'sorry, m'sorry, p-please don't be mad, p-please, I didn't m-mean it," You stuttered with a shaky, cracked voice, stopping every couple of words to sniffle as you cowered into yourself like a frightened little puppy, scared of anything that might approach it.

As Elvis' concern grew rapidly, his demeanour softened, knowing that you were now in an extra fragile and sensitive state and you needed to be treated delicately.

So that's how the big man ended up slowly walked over to you, rolling up the sleeves on his silk shirt and crouching down so that he could be on your level - even if he was still towering over you. 

"Ssh baby, s'okay, I'm not mad with you princess." Elvis hushed, reaching out to gently to push away the hair that had fallen in front of your pretty face, making sure to be as tender as he could be as to not startle you as he knew you were frightened of any sudden contact.

You flinched ever so slightly as Elvis touched you, sniffling as you tried to steady your panic, your wet lashes fluttering up to meet Elvis' concerned gaze. 

"Do ya think you can tell me what happened little one?" Elvis asked as his eyes scanned the scene, realising how badly you'd hurt yourself.

Your eyes widened as you began to recall what happened. "I-I-, um, I, tried to get the, get the drinks and I got um, um, tripped over, by the carpet, I didn't mean it, I didn't m-mean it, I p-promise!" You said shakily, panic beginning to set in again which Elvis picked up on immediately.

"Uh uh baby, you're gettin' yerself all worked up aren't ya?" Elvis soothed, and you nodded, your chest still erratically rising and falling as you hiccupped through tears. You nodded feverishly, your shaky hand wiping away snot and tears. 

"M'sorry! It was just an accident, I promise, I'll c-clean it all up, I p-promise." You whimpered.

"I know it was an accident baby, we all have accidents don't we hm?" Elvis cooed, trying to soothe you and calm you down. "Accidents happen, it's okay honey, I ain't mad, I ain't mad at all." Elvis tried to reassure as you trembled opposite him, your hands still in a bloodied mess along with your knees.

Elvis knew that your sudden panicky and frightened little state was the result of your father, beating you and verbally abusing you at any possible chance he had, particularly when an incident like this would happen. He knew that you'd revert back to the child-like state that you'd first experienced the abuse in, but he knew it was now his job and responsibility to look after you and take care of you and make you feel better and feel loved.

"I d-didn't mean it, p-promise." You mewled softly, growing calmer but still tender and frightened. 

Elvis nodded understandingly, holding eye contact with you, wanting to make it absolutely clear to you that you weren't in any trouble and nothing was bad was going to happen to you whilst you were in his care. 

"I know you didn't sweet girl. You were just doin' yer best weren't you honey? You did nothin' wrong, you were busy bein' a good girl and gettin' Charlie a drink for him." Elvis praised, knowing you needed it. "What happened to yer hands n'knees little one?" Elvis asked, pointing to your injuries.

You hadn't even acknowledged that you were hurt or bleeding, your mind far too occupied with fear. Your eyes widened cutely as you blinked a few times, realising how bad your hands really were as you held them up in front of you. Elvis watched you, his attempt to get your mind to stop panicking was working.

"I, um, I hurt them," You said quietly, your voice trailing off as you studied your hands. "They hurt." You whimpered slightly, the realisation of what had happened setting in, as well as the pain. 

"They look sore don't they honey?" Elvis observed and you nodded, successfully distracted from the internalised fear that had consumed you. "I think we need to get you cleaned up little one, make you feel all good n'better? What do you think princess?" Elvis asked calmly.

Again, you nodded, your habit of becoming ever-so-slightly more non-verbal kicking in when you were upset and scared and overstimulated. "Okay..." You replied, with the small word being all you could muster.

"Okay." Elvis repeated in confirmation with a reassuring nod. "Now, I'm gon' help you up little 'un, then I'm gon' get the fellas outta here, they've had enough partyin' for one night, then we're gon' get you cleaned up and into our nice big, warm, bed, how does that sound Y/N?" Elvis said to you gently. 

You swallowed a lump in your throat as your damp eyelashes fluttered and you scanned the mess around you on the floor. "B-But I need to clean up my mess." You stuttered.

"Oh little one, no, no this will all get cleaned by the staff who are comin' to sort out the mess from the party 'kay? Your only job is to let me clean you up and feel better, okay little girl?" Elvis said with a raised eyebrow as you sniffled and reached out for him, desperately craving physically affection from him. "Careful pretty girl, I don't wanna hurt yer pretty little hands now, do I? M'gon pick you up from your elbows, okay?" Elvis told you, standing back up before leaning down and slowly hauling you up from under your arms, making sure as to not cause you any more harm.

Once you were up, Elvis quickly dashed to the Jungle room to get rid of the remaining guys, explaining the situation to them before they all told Elvis that they hoped you were okay. They all thought of you as a little gem of a girl and they all had a soft spot for you. They were also protective of you, perhaps not as much as Elvis was, but they all knew you were a sweet girl and they all sincerely hoped you'd feel better as quickly as possible.

Elvis then carried you up the stairs and straight to your bathroom, setting you on the bathroom counter where your legs dangled and your cheeks were sticky with dried tears and smudged eyeliner. 

Elvis spent the next couple of hours cleaning you, carefully getting rid of any glass that was stuck in your skin and applying cream and ointment onto your wounds, pressing a comforting kiss to your forehead every time you winced from the anti-septic. 

"Hurts." You cried as you recoiled every time Elvis applied anti-septic onto your body somewhere. 

"I know it does baby, I know it does, but you're bein' such a brave girl f'me, aren't you? That's right, bein' so brave f'me, m'so proud of you." Elvis cooed. "But this is going to make you better so you gotta keep bein' a brave girl for me, just a little bit more medicine and then we'll go to bed little one." Elvis assured.

Sweet nothings and words of comfort and praise kept coming from Elvis as he continued to clean you up, change you out of your sweet little pink party dress, put your pyjamas on for you and get you all cuddled up into bed. 

Exhaustion consumed you, overwhelming you and making your whole body feel heavy as you sank into the big, plush bed that you and Elvis shared. 

You glanced up at Elvis who settled in next to you, your big eyes gazing up at him. "Promise I didn't mean it, promise I'm sorry." You mumbled feebly.

Elvis sighed, looking down at you as he cupped your face with his large hand that had so delicately looked after you all evening. "I know baby, you ain't got nothin' t'be sorry about princess. There ain't no need to be worried little one, yer with me now baby, I ain't ever gon' be mad atchu, okay? Now, you need to rest, you're overwhelmed baby, but m'gon be right here when you wake up and m'gon make you pancakes for bein' such a good girl f'me tonight." Elvis smiled, watching as a sleepy smile crept onto your face.

"Love you." You lazily hummed before you closed your eyes.

Elvis didn't sleep until he knew you were sleeping soundly, his little sunshine.

[wizzdot]

Sunshine

Description: just an idea I had. Might make it a series. Might not. Reader’s callsign is “Ray”. TW - Reader is depressed and has been through some shit.

Not decided who I’m going to make the main love interest, if anyone at all. Hell, not even decided if it’s worth continuing. Hit me up with ideas if you like what you read…

The rain hammers against the living room window. The window of your shitty, little rented flat in a dodgy, shitty area. It was cheap though. And it was a roof -albeit a temperamental, leaky one - over your head.

It was your decision, after all. You could still be slaving away as a soldier. Giving your all, with no reward. What had you even been fighting for, anyway? Oh yeah! Arrogant men wanting to play a game of chess with your life. Nah. You’d choose your shit flat and shit job, thanks.

The bottle of cheap wine looks real nice right about now, what with the rain not letting up. But you hadn’t done a food shop for two weeks, and you’d used your last packet of instant noodles last night. Shit.

Your jacket is still damp from this morning, you notice, feeling regretful for not hanging it up over the radiator as you zip it up. It’s not as if you allow yourself the expense of using the central heating anyway. You tuck the stray bits of hair, that were poking out, underneath the hood and brace yourself.

“Once more into the void” you tut lamely to yourself, before stepping into the rain, on the hunt for dinner. ‘Goin’ fuckin’ mad, talking to myself now’ you roll your eyes at the voice in your head, sick to the back teeth of your failing life.

The familiar, chipped door of the local corner shop jingles as you enter. You stamp the wet off of your boots on the dirty mat at the door, not that it made a jot of difference to the trail of wet you left in your wake.

“Hello you!” Ravi, the (overly) cheery, elderly shopkeeper shouts. I nod, sending a tight lipped smile in response to his greeting. “This rain, eh! It’s pouring down! Madness out there!” his accented voice says chattily, as you try to disappear behind a shelving unit stacked with tinned soups.

“Yeah, mad” you grit out, monotonously.

“Chatty as always, eh?” - “yep” good god, please stop talking to me! Not in the mood..

You grab two tins of soup, and three 29p noodle packets and head back to the counter to pay. Ravi scans your selection through and looks up at you with a raised eyebrow, awaiting something else. You sigh. “The norm, Ravi, if you will” you say. “Thought you might have quit! Bad vice to have, a young thing like you..”

You choose to ignore that comment, as he slides the packet of cigarettes over the counter. “£16.49”. You pull the slightly soggy twenty from your pocket and hand it over and he quickly counts your change and you’re on your way, the ding of the shop door sounding your departure.

The rain has somehow worsened, so you decide to run the mile and a half back to your flat, pissed off that you’d had to put any effort in, whatsoever. You’ve kept your fitness levels up since your military days. You huff a laugh at your own expense. Knew the morning jogs before work were worth while.. you think to yourself.

Work. Fuck. You’d not finished until 5am this morning, hence the wet jacket. Drunkards had crawled in after winning the football match, refusing to leave until gone 3am, and leaving a shit tonne of mess behind that needed cleaned up. You got decent tips though. Tips that your landlord would snatch off of you thanks to the fact that you were a month behind on rent payments. Easy come easy go, you thought to yourself, as you jog back to the flat.

You get back in record time but halt abruptly when you reach the door. The rain has, by this point, soaked completely through your jacket, but something else has caught your attention. The door handle (which lost its spring a while ago) is slanted down. Someone has visited while you’ve been gone.

“Fuck” you whisper to yourself, before quietly shoving the pack of cigs down your bra to try and keep them dry, and gently stacking the tins and packs of noodles into your post box, for safe keeping, while you investigate..

On second thoughts..

You grab one tin, and carry it as a weapon. Just in case, right? Old habits die hard…

You step in, silently, and notice the wet footprints leading to the kitchen. They weren’t even trying to be subtle, what the actual fuck?!

Slinking towards the kitchen, acting every bit the trained operative that you once were, you round the corner, ready to beat the intruder to ever lasting shit with your soup can, when your eyes meet something - or someone, for that matter - that draws the breathe from your lungs.

“Get out” you all but growl.

The intruder huffs a confident laugh.

“You’ve not changed much, apparently.. a ‘hello’ would be polite, Ray” the figure, with their back turned, lounging on your one remaining wooden chair, that you use to hang your washing on to dry, teases.

“I don’t go by Ray anymore. Now, get out” you spit, marching back to the door to grab your remaining tin of soup and packs of noodles, no longer threatened by the unknown, but instead, utterly pissed off at the fact they’re wasting your time.. You return to the kitchen, intruder still unmoved, and slam the tins down on the counter to try and convey the fact that they weren’t welcome..

“You’ve got about 10 seconds..” you warn.

“Until…?”

“Until I call your superior..”

“He knows I’m here..”

“I’ll call his superior, then” I threaten.

“You’ll call Kate? T’was her decision to send me..”

“Look, Lieutenant. I don’t give a single, steaming shit about whatever it is that you’ve gotten yourselves caught up in, this time. And if you think I want to be involved, you’re heavily mistaken. And it’s laughable that Kate chose you to try and retrieve me.. didn’t even think to send Gaz…? The only one of you wankers that I actually, borderline, tolerated?” You laugh bitterly.

“I really mean it, Ghost. Get out.” you practically spit his callsign, wanting him to understand that you really weren’t considering his, yet unspoken, offer.

“We’d have sent Gaz…” he pauses “but he’s broken. So I’ll have to do…”

Your stomach drops at that and Ghost almost almost sees the break in your facade.

*18 months earlier*

You’d gone through your entire military career with Gaz by your side. You’d class Gim has a friend, even though you were detached and fairly closed off. He was always determined to bring down your walls.

The pair of you were eventually split up when he was headhunted for the formidable taskforce, the 141. You didn’t see him for months, maybe even over a year, until your unit, which you labelled as ‘the Donkeys’, because they were all so shit, crossed paths with the 141 in Russia.

You, and Shepherd, you came to find out, who had been acting as the temporary commanding officer, visiting from America on a joint op, were the only survivors, not that Gaz knew.

The 141 didn’t stick around to check how us Donkeys got on. Just left us behind to do the grunt work, while they, along with Shepherd, moved on. Yeah. Still a bit bitter about that…

Mission accomplished, in their eyes. Necessary losses and all that.. the Donkeys were just collateral for them.. you included.

You returned to base, under your own steam, injured and forced to practically hitchhike back from Russia. When you limped back through the base security, flashing the dented dog tags, confirming that you were, in fact one of them, you were hailed a miracle.

Laswell called within the hour of your miraculous return and wanted to promote you to Lieutenant of your new unit, of strangers, that you’d yet to even meet. Hell, you were even ready for active duty, with your injuries. You decided that it was all for show. Or out of pity… you guessed that, seeing as the rest of the donkeys, and the existing Lieutenant, had been killed, they needed a replacement.

The day of the ceremony rolled around a couple of weeks after, the big names in the SAS, in their fancy suits covered in silverware and ribbons, turned up, to ramble on about what important work you’d all been doing and rewarding medals to hundreds of other soldiers. It was all bullshit.

When it was your turn to receive your medal of distinguished bravery, and to solidify your promotion to the rank of Lieutenant, you stepped up to the stage slowly, and glanced around at the huge crowd, dressed in their formal uniforms, and caught eyes with them. The 141. Gaz was smiling at you, sending a thumbs up your way, mouthing ‘proud of you!’ toward the stage.

You furrowed your brow, thoughts running rampant in your head. Proud of what, exactly? Proud that my entire unit were wiped from existence? Proud that, for some reason, I came back to base?

You froze on the stage. You don’t know for how long. You just remember gulping, trying to make your inner voice shut the fuck up.

Autopilot took over for a few seconds, and you step forward again, towards the important guy, holding the medals and sashes. “Y/n y/l/n. I present to you…” all you hear is your name, and then his muffled voice.

You take one final glance around the ceremony, and take the Lieutenant badge from the silver tray, earning a few gasps from shocked spectators.

“Fuck your promotion. I quit”

And you left the stage, head held high, and walk away. Away from the SAS. Away from the chess game of life. Away from the danger and greed of those in charge. You were done. Even the donkeys didn’t deserve their fate. They were someone’s child. Someone’s parent. Someone’s brother. And they were gone. Without a second glance. But they were oh so thankful for their service, right?

Bullshit.

Canon fodder. That’s all you were sent in for that day.

Pawns to be banished from the board for the next step of the game. Bigger picture. Greater good. All that grandiose bullshit.

You remembered rushing to your old room at the barracks and hastily packing whatever you had left. Hoping you’d be gone before someone detained you. Surely what you’d done was some sort of illegal, right?

What you didn’t expect was for Gaz and his Captain to come knocking on your door.

“Y/n? You in there..?”

“Piss off, Garrick” you snapped in reply.

“Soldier, open the door” the Captain’s, you’d assumed, rough voice commanded.

“Sorry Cap” you popped the P, immaturely, “no can do, don’t take orders anymore, remember? I quit..”

There was one heavy crash at the door, followed by some splintering sounds of wood, and then the Captain, followed by a sheepish looking Gaz, invited themselves into your room.

“Ray, is it? You don’t need to do this... You’re a valuable asset. You have so much to offer. I’ve read your file. You show a lot of promise. Garrick, here, backs that up. Says you and he came through the ranks together, said that you were the only one who could beat him in your year. Is that true?”

You kept your back to the men, continuing to blatantly ignore them and stuff your belongings into bags.

“You don’t have to rush, Ray. I have my other two men blocking the hallway”.

You remember furrowing your brow at that, not that he could see. Why was he protecting you? Why was he being… nice… about it?

“All due respect, Captain, but I’m out. Done. Finished. Yeah? Understood? I’d love to think up some more words to try and get through to you, but I need to get off base asap, before I’m detained. Hell, they’ll probably decide that what I just did is some sort of war crime. Now.. if you’ll excuse me..” you said, pushing past the men and out of the door.

“Ray!” Gaz shouted.

“Here, at least take this..” he presented his wallet.

“Help you find somewhere, yeah?”

You recall being caught off guard at his offer before nodding, sending a tight lipped smile his way.

“Thank you”

*now*

That was the last interaction you’d had with Kyle Garrick. Probably the last act of kindness thrust upon you since, hell, since you can remember...

And now his Lieutenant is in your shitty little flat, that Gaz’s money helped pay the deposit for, telling you that he is hurt.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the scraping of the chair against the wooden floor, and the massive Lieutenant, skull covered face and all, standing from said chair, his head practically touching the ceiling light.

“I’ll pass on your regards to Gaz” he grumbles, heading to the door. “Enjoy your soup, Ray.”

You wait until his back is turned and he is out of earshot, before gulping and scratching your damp hair. I hope Gaz is ok.. I - I wonder why they’ve came to me..? What the hell has happened..

More thoughts run through your head, and the squeak of the springless door handle jolts you again. Christ, hasn’t he gone yet..? He’s taking his time..

“Good bye, Ray. Trackers in the wallet. If you want to disappear again” Ghost speaks quietly, as if to himself, before stepping out into the curtain of rain.

Your eyes flash back and forth, furrowed brow. That slimy little prick, they’ve known where I was this entire time.. probably kept an eye on me.. what the actual fuck..

You rush to the door, opening it and seeing the Lieutenants broad figure stalking away into the darkness, the splashing of his steps the only thing you can hear over the pounding rain hitting the street.

“How hurt is he...” I shout into the darkness.

You don’t see, but Ghost smirks under his balaclava, before turning to face you.

“He’s not taking visitors, Ray. Let’s leave it at that..”

Cunt. Fucking bastard. He knows what he’s doing. Dangling a piece of string in front of a cat..

You growl.

“Arghh! FINE. Fuckin’. Fuckin’ FINE. You win. You happy? You fucking win, Lieutenant. Give me 5 minutes..”

He smirks again, and this time you swear you can see the smugness shine through his eyes. It won’t take you long to pack anyway. Not like you’ve unpacked in the 18 months you’ve been here.

You rush back into the flat and grab the two loaded rucksacks, untouched since you left base for the, what you thought would be, final time. You grab the door handle, and rush back to grab your tins of soup and noodles. Oh - and the wine!

What? It’s a waste not to use them..

You join Ghost back on the street.

“Welcome back, Ray..” the Lieutenant says in a cocky voice.

“Don’t call me that” you snap, bitterly.

“Need to have a name, woman. You’re the newest member of taskforce 141…”

“Piss off…” is all you can muster for the time being.

You wrap your soaked jacket, tighter around your body, and pray that the cigarettes in your bra are still dry.

You’re gonna need them…

[newtonsheffield]

So… how does Anthony propose to Kate in Take a Deep Breath? Or is that something we see later on? If so just ignore this. We will never speak of it again.

Anthony has been planning this for a very long time. He’s been planning it since the second they got together, if he’s honest with himself. He was already so sure of Kate. So sure that she was the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He was already planning it when they found out Neddy was on the way and then he didn’t do it. Not because he was any less sure. If anything, he was more sure. Every day he was more sure that Kate is the person he was meant to find. Even when he’s holding her hair and rubbing her back during morning sickness and running down the street at 3am to find a shop still open for packets of crisps and ice cream. Even then he’s happy, he’s excited to be the person she picked to share the life he knows she wanted for herself so badly. But he didn’t want her to think he was proposing because she was pregnant. In a way he didn’t want to take the shine off it. They have a baby together, they bought a house that’s in both of their names, they’re more married than some people who are legally married. Honestly, it’s not that important to Anthony but he knows it’s important to Kate.

It doesn’t help that since they had Neddy it feels like there’s so much pressure on him to propose. He asked for Kate’s father’s blessing and he feels like every time he sees Tharman recently he looks at that man holding his grandson and the older man sighs,

“Anthony, why isn’t my baby engaged?”

“I’m working on it! I promise!”

His siblings and mother niggle at him every time he sees them.

“Just ask her!”

“Daphne! Have you ever proposed to anyone?! No! Nose out!”

“I’ve accepted a few proposals in my time!”

Simon’s head shot up, “A few?! Who else’s proposal did you accept?!”

Anthony’s also not helped by the fact that even before Neddy was born he was referring to Kate as his wife. He’d stitched himself up the first time Kate had gone to pick Hyacinth up from school when he got caught up at work and found his girlfriend standing with her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe, Hyacinth scribbling madly on a piece of paper.

“Oh, there’s my husband!”

Anthony stopped dead, his eyes narrowed, aware he’d somehow made a misstep. “What have I done?”

Kate raised her eyebrows, “Miss Beckett greeted me today as Mrs Bridgerton. Was I there when we got married?”

Anthony flushed, wrapping his arm around her waist. “You are my wifey.”

Kate relaxed into his arms chuckling, “You could officially make me your wife, you know.”

“These things take time, Babe.”

“You could do it right now.”

“I’m not going to do it here.”

“Fine!” Kate sighed, Nudging his ribs. “I’ll wait.”

Finally, Anthony decides to propose after Neddy’s birth. He takes Kate and Neddy out for a picnic and makes her a daisy chain, and he asks her to marry him. When Kate finally swipes the tears from her eyes she takes a shuddering breath.

“God, finally. I had to push out a baby for it, Jesus.”

Anthony rolled his eyes, “Eh, worth the wait surely.”

“Very worth the wait.”

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Buddie Headcanons bc i forgot to take my meds today and it is too late to take them now bc if i did i would be up all night but im somehow still wide awake at 3am anyway so eh what the hell 🤷

- Eddie bought Buck a journal that he keeps in his bedside table drawer, so that if he wakes up in the middle of the night with some sort of information running through his brain, he can write it down as an outlet to gush about the information so he doesn’t toss and turn the rest of the night bc he feels bad waking up eddie to info-dump

- Buck went all out on the cheesey newly-wed merch: matching his & his throw pillows for the bed, matching Mr. & Mr. Diaz coffee mugs, pun-y couple t-shirts, etc. Eddie pretends to find it annoying, but he can’t hide the smile he always has when he holds the Mr. Diaz mug.

- They both leave sticky notes to each other around the house with little sweet nothings written on them; Chris eventually got annoyed with them and started writing things like “you two are gross” or “get a room” and leaving them in the usual spots

- Buck is a swiftie, Eddie claims he doesn’t like her music, but Buck constantly hears Eddie humming her music around the house as he carries out daily tasks

- They watch Drag Race together, and Buck info-dumps about the queens as Eddie just listens not comprehending a word of it bc he’s too busy watching Buck be so entertained

- Eddie learns how to make omelets and starts making them for Buck; they aren’t good at all, but Buck always eats them bc he sees how proud of himself Eddie is and he refuses to make Eddie sad

- When Eddie and Buck’s daughter gets into dance/theatre, Buck immediately turns into the Dance/Theatre Mom, learning how to see to make costumes, getting in arguments with other moms, sitting front row and filming every performance, etc.

- Buck sets their alarm an hour early intentionally so they have time to cuddle in bed every morning; waking each other up with soft kisses (Eddie loves to kiss the tip of Buck’s nose first thing in the morning bc it makes Buck blush), and whispered “i love you”s until their second alarm goes off and they start their day

- Eddie always does the dishes since Buck cooks, but Buck keeps him company by drying snd putting them away

- As a wedding gift to Buck, Eddie got Bobby’s help to track down the scrap yard where decommissioned LAFD vehicles go and got a peice of scrap from an old 118 engine that he had melted down to make their wedding bands

- Eddie asked for Bobby and Athena’s blessing before he proposed to Buck

- Buck (who was simultaneously preparing a proposal) visited Shannon’s grave with Chris to ask for her blessing to propose; promising to take care of her boys for her

- Buck (and Chris) begged Eddie to get a cat, but Eddie always said no… until Eddie found a stray in their backyard one day and started to feed it. The cat never left, and now spends most nights curled up on Eddie’s lap, and he would protect that cat like it was his own baby.

- Buck didn’t know Eddie wears contact lenses, and one of their days off when Eddie ran out, he wore his glasses to the breakfast table and Buck was speechless for most of the morning (Chris teased him relentlessly afterwards)

- Eddie started wearing his glasses more often after that because he thought it was cute the way Buck got all flustered and blushy

- Late at night on overnight shifts, if one of them has a nightmare, they sneak out of the bunkroom to go lay on the roof— they would call it stargazing, but there is too much light pollution from LA to see anything other than faint specks, but they still love to hold each other in silence to calm the other one down

- One of Buck’s favorite photos of Eddie was taken long before they got together; it was at a Grant-Nash barbecue shortly after Jee had been born, and Eddie was lounging in a lawn chair with a sleeping baby Jee curled up in his arms— he has a small smile on his face as he looks down at her, and it’s one of the first times Buck remembers looking at Eddie and thinking “He is so beautiful”

- When Eddie asked Buck to move in with him and Chris, Buck teased him by saying “you’re not gonna kick me out after a day, are you?”

- Eddie got him back when he jokingly kicked Buck out after a day, Buck believing he meant it for a solid 45 seconds before Eddie started laughing and pulled him into a tight hug, telling him he was joking

- They were initially going to replace Eddie’s bed with Buck’s, but when they were moving things in, they were playfully shoving each other around and both accidentally fell onto the bed before it was fully set up, breaking the supports meaning they had to buy a new bed

- Chimney (who witnessed this happen) now teases them relentlessly about how they “broke the bed” when Buck moved in

[boinurmom13]

Zom x Lament fic i wrote at 3am after months of not writing

i wouldve added indents but im on ipad and dunno how to do that on mobile docs

The sound of a rifle goes off, and is then shortly accompanied by thrilling and lively chase music. Black, gray, and white pixels dance on a screen, each coordinated perfectly in their own digital way. They come together to form a movie, one showcasing a twisted tale of men being hunted for sport. Despite sounding thrilling and entertaining at the time the two viewers picked it up, it turns out the movie itself is pretty boring. Zom, currently leaning on the arm he has sitting on the arm chair, has read the short story the movie is based off of. It was an important part of many literature classes he had growing up on the surface. The other person watching it, Lament, who’s currently laying on the opposite side of the couch with his feet propped up on Zom’s lap, hadn’t read the story. Not many books fell into the underground, anyway, and those that did were destroyed by water damage.

“This movie sucks,” Lament mumbles, peeling his eyelight from the screen to look up at the ceiling. “The book’s gotta be better, right?” Zom shrugs in response, letting out a slow yawn.

“Eh. It was just as boring. Quicker read, though.” He picks up the remote to shut it off, but gets nudged instead. Frowning, he sends a mean glare at his friend, clearly annoyed. “Dude, your socks stink, don’t do that.”

The opposing skeleton’s mangled mouth twists into a crooked smile, snorting at his response. “You have month old take out boxes littering your room. That’s nasty.”

Zom mutters something angrily as a response. Or, lack of response. Lament snorts again, having his fun with picking on Zom. He’s the only one enjoying it, though, considering Zom gets up shortly after.

Watching as his pal walks away, Lament sits up fully after laying down for a majority of the movie. He huffs in annoyance as he grabs the remote to turn down the movie, upset that the only person he can poke fun at has disappeared into another room. Whatever he’s doing, Lament’s unsure of, but it’s not like it’s a weird thing for Zom to get up without saying anything. He’s done it a thousand times, and he’s not expected to stop now. About five minutes later, Zom walks out, in a brand new shirt. He sits down on the couch and places a decorative pillow (courtesy of Alphys wanting to make their new home feel like one after years of a nomadic lifestyle) between him and Lament.

“Don’t touch me. That kid’ll kill me if I run out of clean shirts to wear out to eat later today,” Zom, very rudely commands.

Lament takes it as a challenge.

First, he tries verbally inching his way to get to him. Hoping Zom will set aside the pillow so they can return to the position they were previously in, Lament starts.

“It’s not like you can’t do laundry before you have to go. Besides, it’s just socks.” Admittedly, he sounded a little defensive. Not on purpose or anything, but because he knows that Zom eventually gives in during an argument. His ass is too lazy to find a compromise, so instead he just gives in with obvious displeasure.

And arguing with Zom is never boring, so why wouldn’t Lament start one?

“Out of detergent. And your socks reek of dirt, mold, and cheese. Your socks are rank, no thanks,” Zom responds. He shoots Lament a disgusted look at the mention of how bad that guy’s socks actually smell. Lament shrugs it off, not fazed by his comment.

“Now you’re just being hurtful.”

“Shut up.”

The bait wasn’t taken, unfortunately. Lament squints his eyes at him, trying to think of another plan. Sneak attacks? Maybe, but Zom’s been shown to be pretty good at deflecting those when on guard. The guy never talks about his AU, but it’s pretty obvious he’s dealt with sneak attacks, jumpscares… a lot, actually. Convincing isn’t working, and usually never works. The guy’s as stubborn as a mule when agitated.

Maybe slowly inching there until Zom forgets or gets comfortable might be the best approach… And the most boring. Damn.

A while later after putting up with the (excruciating (not really)) barrier between him and Zom, Lament lets out a sigh of relief after the movie ends. He hopes Zom put up the barrier for only the movie, because keeping this bit up this long is childish.

Zom just so happens to be incredibly childish because the pillow still hasn’t moved. Not an inch.

Leaning back to stretch, Lament puts his arms up on the couch. Despite his hand being inches from Zom, he doesn’t move.

He doesn’t move?

Either he doesn’t care, or he’s too caught up trying to pick another movie from this shitty free movie app. This might be good. Either way, there’s a chance Lament could get away with scooting closer.

Another moment passes, and Lament scoots closer. Then closer. And again. closer. By this point, the pillow is nearly fully behind him, and his arm could comfortably wrap around Zom’s shoulder. Still, he’s unsure if Zom is incredibly focused, or just doesn’t care. Testing that theory, Lament brings his hand down, but before he can make contact, Zom shoots a nasty glare.

“I said don’t touch me.”

Lament frowns and gives him a bored look. “You can wash the shirt.”

“Too lazy,” is the response he’s met with as Zom turns to continue scrolling on the TV. Lament rolls his eyes, annoyed, and puts his hand on Zom’s shoulder anyway.

Zom turns to look at him, but is quickly stopped as both arms are wrapped around him, and a.. surprisingly heavy weight knocks him down to lay back against the armrest of the couch. Within a matter of minutes, the two are in a cuddling position on the couch. As soon as everything settles and what just happened catches up to Zom. he begins to retaliate, pushing against Lament to get him off.

“Dude! What the hell! I just— I told you I don’t want you touching me! Now I’ll have to wash everything, and take a shower!” His exclamations are ignored as Lament picks up the remote Zom dropped and puts on a random movie, not caring enough to read through the summary.

“Thank god you’ll finally take a shower.” He chuckles to himself, but is cut off by an instinctive ‘ow’ as he feels Zom lift a knee (with struggle) to (weakly) knee him.

okay thats all…. til next time chat

[veeisdunn]

can you write something to do with exam stress, loneliness and suicidal thoughts (if you're comfortable with it) finals season is coming and it would comfort me a lot. could it be a tommy x sister reader? Maybe the reader is stressed about her exams and is being bullied in school. I really enjoyed your first two fics (the sh ones) and I would really appreciate this. Lots of love xxx

Bargain

Tommy Shelby x sister!reader

I'm sorry that this took so long! It is kind of ironic as I'm also going through this right now with my A-Level exams. I understand how dark things tend to be getting in these times and you sound like you've got a lot on your plate. I really hope you enjoy this, I made it especially for you! ♡

warning: suicidal thoughts and actions

WC: 3.6K

MASTERLIST

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

One day, though you couldn't remember when, the jokes stopped being funny. Your classmates were relentless - to them you were gypsy scum, the spawn of a criminal family. You used to laugh along but the taunting wore you down. 

It didn't help that you began to shut your family out as well. Ever since you passed the entrance exam at that God forsaken grammar school, you withdrew. Too much reading and research to tally up the betting books and mediate domestic disputes.

As you moved onto your final years of education, you saw a way out of your family's situation - if you got into university then you wouldn't need to join the family company or marry a rich man to escape. You could have your own career which didn't break the law.

Of course, in the 1920s, this was no easy feat for a woman - or anyone. Luckily for you, you were attending one of the best grammar schools in the country, but, though you weren't in poverty, you were at a disadvantage with your peers. Most of your classmates had options: they had a dad with a PhD, a legal family business or an arranged marriage with a wealthy man lined up in case they failed their studies.

The pressure seemed never ending. You needed this, there simply was no other option. You had to grapple with this reality as well as deal with the tormenting of your classmates and the fear that one of your family members would end up with a bullet in their heads. 

You didn't speak to anyone in your family about your crippling concerns. You didn't think they'd see the value in a university education - especially for a woman. 

School work distracted you to such a point where you didn't even notice Tommy's concerned presence shadowing you most days. He just kept popping up everywhere you went. 

School gate? Tommy.

Library? Tommy.

The kitchen at 3am? Tommy.

Did that man even fucking sleep? 

Eventually, you "confronted" him. You had a tradition of being in Charlie's Yard on a Friday night. You would sit and look into the water - laughing, crying, sometimes screaming in frustration. This was a solitary activity, but one particular Friday, Tommy was already waiting there for you.

"(Y/N)!, you're late!" He shouted across the yard, taking a puff of his cigarette with a cheeky grin.

Fuck’s sake.

You hurry your pace, slushing your boots in the mud making your way to the wooden dock. “What are you doing?” you call out, frustrated.

“Is a man not able to sit, eh?” Tommy shuffled over and gestured for you to sit. You just huffed in response and remained standing.

“Look, Y/N/N, I can leave if you want, but I just wanted to see you? You’re always buried in a book these days.” His tone turned more sympathetic. You relented and sunk down next to him.

“I can’t be long. I have an essay, Tommy.” You spoke timidly, you were mentally prepared to break down alone but now you had to hold yourself together.

“You have the weekend.” He turned to look at you but you turned away.

“No. I have more work for the weekend.” You choked and turned your body so you were facing away from his stare, “I have a lot of work to do. I’m bloody drowning in it Tommy.”

He took a deep, prolonged breath and discarded his cigarette. “I think, Y/N, I think you need to spend a lot less time on work. Aren’t your friends all out on a Friday night? Why don’t you join them?”

You scoffed. “Friends? No one wants to be friends with a gypsy, or a Shelby.”

This struck a nerve with Tommy, he was also both of those things, yet he was respected and you were isolated. “Yeah? Say’s fucking who?” 

“People at school.” “And why are you listening to them?” “Because - it’s just hard. You wouldn’t get it. I’m so fucking worn down.”

The man took another sigh, realising he was fighting an uphill battle. “Your classmates aren’t in Small Heath, you don’t need to prove yourself to anyone here, you know that?”

You shook your head rapidly “No. No Tom, I don’t care about my social life. If I don’t do well in my exams, I’ll never get into University. I need to go, I want it so bloody bad.” You were so engrossed in your emotions that you didn’t even feel the salty tears run down your cheeks.

Tommy was taken aback by your reaction. He couldn’t fathom why you were putting so much pressure on yourself. Of course, he would rather you made your goal something a bit easier than perfect grades, but then whatever you dream was became his by proxy. He had spoken to your teachers, they were certain you’d get the grades you needed. They had even mentioned your tendency to overdo things, but things weren’t nearly as bad at home at that time so he disregarded it. What a stupid mistake that was.

He was about to reach out to touch your hand, but you could feel the floodgates bursting, so you tried to leave. 

“Y/N!” He shouted, following close behind you.

Go away. Go away. Go away.

“Look, I didn’t fucking ask you to come here.” You snapped as he grabbed your arm.

“You didn’t need to. Your my fucking sister, you don’t need to ask. I didn’t want to be so blunt but you need to calm the fuck down with the books, ay?" 

"No. You don't understand." You shook your head adamantly , "if I don't do well in my exams, then what's the fucking point in anything anymore?" 

—

"So, how'd your chat with Y/N go?” Polly asked her nephew as the evening dawned.

He settled into the sofa and took a deep inhale, rubbing his cold, sweaty palms together. “She didn’t take it very well. She probably just came back here to study more upstairs.

Polly leaned forward in her seat: “she never came home.”

Shit.

“Did you upset her, Thomas?”

“I couldn’t tell you. She’s hard to get these days.”

—

Tommy thought little of her absence. The library closed at 6PM - she’d be home by 7.

7:30. Still no Y/N. 

He went to check your room to see if you’d slipped in and snuck to bed. Your room looked like it had been ransacked. Books, pencils, papers, and clothes covered every surface. Your bed was unmade and the curtains were drawn. It reminded the man of a house that had been robbed. The air was stagnant and cold.

On your bed, a book stood out to Tommy. It wasn’t a textbook or workbook, it was a small leather-bound diary with fraying ribbons pulling it shut. Without much thought, he settled down onto the bed and yanked the curtain open, amber sunset pouring in. The book felt heavy and the spine was stressed. He noticed that lots of other papers had been shoved between the pages.The edges of some were visible, your handwriting adorning them. He pulled the end of the matted ribbon firmly undoing the knot and allowing him access to what he came to realise was your diary. He flicked to the latest entry and saw it was dated for just the day before. He skimmed your scrawls: I will never be good enough, I just can't do it. I can't do anything anymore.

After freezing for a second he slammed it shut and threw it against the wall. He was fuming with the situation, and with himself. He knew you were struggling but he thought it was your need to prove yourself to your bullying peers - he could have never dreamed that you hated yourself this much.

Without much more thought, Tommy grabbed his coat and practically launched himself out of the door. He wasn't going to come home until he had you with him.

—

After your altercation with Tommy, you found yourself back by the cut. Your emotions were always heightened there, you tried not to go to the part where your mother jumped in, that was usually reserved for the anniversary of her death, but for some reason your feet carried you down there. You never knew her and by the sounds of things, you were very different people. You didn't even know why she did what she did, you were too young back then to understand. One thing you did know was how she must have felt. The feeling of utter despair. The loneliness. 

You'd had a serious case of suicidal ideation since the start of your new school. In the back of your mind you always knew what to do if everything became too much. You had written letters to everyone and stuffed them under your pillow. You were ready. Perhaps tonight was the night?

This revelation almost gave you a twisted sense of euphoria. I don't need to go home again. I never have to write another essay. I never need to be called another name. No one will need to look after me. I can just end it all. 

These thoughts carried you to the edge of the water. You thought about how your mother would have felt drowning and freezing. Calm, hopefully. Release. 

You collected some large stones from the dusty mud around you and stuffed them in your coat pockets. You figured that being pulled down would make you go quicker. You knew that your brothers would be sad but you also knew that they'd move on. They'd done it once before, they could do it again. After all, they all had lives and you had nothing but stress and pain and anguish. 

Looking down into the gloomy water you could feel cool droplets splashing onto your face and mixing with your tears. The abyss was inviting, your doubtful thoughts that had stopped you in the past were whispering to you but you told yourself that you wanted this. You wanted this, right?

You took your shoes off and laid them neatly at the edge of the water. 

A leap. A splash. A scream.

Cold.

Then you felt someone grab you.

—

Tommy had barely made it in time. He saw you, shoeless, on the edge of the cut. He could only shout and run after you as you descended into the water. Without hesitation, he jumped in after you and grabbed you. He tried to pull your body up to the surface with him but you were fighting him. Your coat was sinking first, weighing the both of you down, so he wrestled it off you. All either of you could hear was splashes and all you could feel was the paralysing blanket of cold.

Holding onto your wrists, he went up for air to gather strength, before diving back under to pull you up. You were barely underwater for a few minutes but the frigid water had knocked you out. Tommy paddled to the steps a few metres away from where you'd jumped and pulled his drenched body onto them. He wheezed and gasped for air then dragged you up the steps by your armpits. The water level was particularly low so the steps seemed to go on forever. He'd boarded boats from these steps but never did he think he'd be ascending them with your limp body.

Your breathing was shaky and erratic. Tommy was just glad you were breathing at all. He laid you down in the dirt and rolled you onto your side just in time for you to involuntary convulse and cough up water while he hyperventilated. He firmly patted your back as your lungs cleared. Despite the heaving, you were still unconscious. Your lips were going a dusky shade of blue and the skin around your eyes was darkening, either from the cold or the lack of oxygen, he wasn't sure. 

Tommy desperately tried to get control of his breathing so he could compose himself but his body was viscerally reacting to the shock of the cold water overwhelming his senses. He was in such physical anguish that his emotions had completely dulled. He'd honed the ability to turn his thoughts off while in the trenches and it often came in handy. 

His main priority was getting you warm and dry. He tried to drag you up but didn't have the strength in his cold and wet state. Instead he had to resort to shouting for help, knowing that there were Blinders at the entrance to the docks. A few of Tommy's associates came around the corner, their coats flying in the wind behind them and the group of them managed to carry you back to Watery Lane while your body continued to involuntary spasm due to the cold. 

Nobody else was in the house so Tommy flung your body on the floor in front of the fireplace and set a copious pile of logs on fire. He hunched over you and basked in the heat, ripping off his coat, hat, and suit and discarding them into a pile. After sitting for a moment shivering in a vest and underwear, he ran to the kitchen and grabbed a towel.

In the living room, you'd rolled over so you could be closer to the heat, you weren't entirely sure what was going on but you liked the feeling of the warmth against you.

He ripped your drenched shirt off you and tried to ring your hair out with the towel. You were mumbling something incoherent but he ignored it. Your body laid next to the fire as he dried himself off. 

You awoke when he accidentally knocked a book off the coffee table. Your body felt numb and you were extremely confused. He rushed over as you tried to roll away from the fire.

"Tommy?" you croaked, even more confused than you already were. What was he doing here? The look on his face then reminded you. He was drenched. You'd actually done it. You'd actually done it and he stopped you.

You ignored his demanding stare and sat up, coughing. You wheezed, holding your hands around your neck to reassure yourself that you weren't drowning. 

You didn't drown, but you were soaked to the bone. 

"What were you thinking, eh?" Tommy studied your startled expression, you couldn’t tell if he was mad, disappointed, or feeling sorry for you, "What the hell is going on with you?" 

You remained silent and refused to look up at him. 

"Y/N, what did you just do? And don't tell me that you fell. Your coat was full of stones." 

He was going to make you say it. Dick.

You could only think of two words: “I’m sorry.”

Tommy scoffed and sat down in front of you. “You’re sorry? You are sorry?”

Did he want to know why? “I’m sorry that you jumped in and got wet. You look cold.”

He was physically taken aback by your words. “The only thing you should be sorry for is not talking to me.” He picked up the towel and began to dry you, understanding that trying to reason with you in this state was no better than arguing with a brick wall. After your hair was no longer dripping, he brought you dry clothes and made you discard your wet ones in the bathroom while he pressed his ear up against the wall to listen to your every move.

Tommy was angry with himself. He’d sat back and watched the pressure on you accumulate, only realising when it was too late. You’d nearly died. Y/N. His baby sister. The girl he held as a baby. The girl he read bedtime stories to. The girl he taught to ride horses. The girl he loved unconditionally. It was fate that had just saved your life - he very easily could have looked for you somewhere else and that would have cost your life. The thought made his heart hurt. You’d nearly died. You’d nearly died. Before he’d even realised, he was crying against the doorframe as you left the bathroom. 

You tried to apologise again but he ignored you and wrapped you in the tightest hug you’d ever felt. He was scared to loosen his grip as he feared you would slip away. He cried gut-wrenching sobs into your shoulder. You gave in and began to cry as well. You couldn’t even figure out why. You were plagued with a viscous mixture of anguish and guilt - you were also still really fucking cold, the pair of your shivered in eachother’s arms. 

Tommy pulled away and stared directly into your eyes. Instinctively your gaze turned to break the exchange. You couldn’t stand his distraught stare, it made you want to vomit.

“Y/N” He took a deep breath, “I’m here now and I’m not leaving you ever again, so you better tell me what the fuck is going on inside that head, eh?” You gulped. Only one coherent thought was running through your head. “Cold.”

With those words, the pair of you were huddled next to the fire.

“I’m gonna fail, Tommy.” The admission slipped out.

He held back his rant he’d repeated to you countless times and let you continue. All he wanted to do was scream and shout, to tell you and the rest of the bloody street how talented and capable you are.

“I want to make something for myself just like you have but I can’t do it. I just feel like I can’t do anything right. If I’m a good person then why do people hate me?” You took shaky breaths to process the thoughts you’d aired. Tommy pulled you in so you were resting on his side while the fire crackled in front of you. He waited to say anything until he could be sure that you were finished.

“Look, Y/N. Some people in this world are just full of hate, they wouldn’t know kindness if it hit them between the eyes. You just want to make everyone happy but you can’t because some people are gonna fucking resist until they die. I’m so proud of you, Y/N, you have grown up to be a talented and smart woman. You will make a life for yourself as long as you remember that. If you want to do that through school then, by all means, go for it, but there are other ways. What you need is some time to rest, and you need to get away from that fucking school. You’re in your final year, just finish things off at home, I’ll get you a tutor or anything you need as long as you never go back.”

He leaned back against the sofa to physically recover from his speech. He couldn’t see your face but he watched as you curled your body into a tight ball and leaned in even closer to you.

“It’s like I don’t even know who I am anymore. Everything is so dull. I’m not happy.” No shit. And then you began to cry for what felt like the millionth time.

He just held you and stared into the flames. “Shh shh, no, it’s alright. you’re fine, shh. No more anything for the rest of the weekend, Dr Shelby’s orders, alright?” You chuckled lightly while he remained serious,  “Over my many, many years, I’ve realised that if you work on something forever it never gets done well, but if you take enough breaks and are kind to yourself, it will get done. I can bet everything that you will become a strong and independent woman one day.”

After a few more back and forths, you spilling your negative thoughts and him retorting with a classic Tommy speech, the two of you fell asleep by the fire, the heat thawing the pain you’d both felt. Tommy came to the conclusion that you were simply too good for this world, but he knew you better than anyone and was certain it would all work out for you in the end.

The next morning, the pair of you made a deal that you would tell him about all the bad thoughts you were having and he promised he’d always be there to listen. After a few meetings with a doctor and your school, Tommy set you up a study area in his office. The two of you would work during the morning, eat lunch together, then you’d shadow him in the afternoon to - as he put it - “learn from the master”. 

You took time to reflect on the things that really mattered to you - not the things that really mattered to the girl who was hated by her peers and would have died for flawless grades - the things that mattered to you, Y/N Shelby. You cared deeply about those around you. Seeing how broken Tommy was after your attempt made you want to cooperate with him and your doctor to become well enough to live the life you so desperately craved. It was almost ironic that you’d nearly taken that opportunity from yourself.

You still had days when the light at the end of the tunnel faded and you’d again lose sight of your future, but keeping up with his side of the deal, Tommy was always there to coax you out of it. 

When you were younger, your brother taught you lots of things, and now he felt like he was giving you a final, important lesson. To learn to use your life, because he could so clearly see the potential you have.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

please drop me a comment or message with any feedback or suggestions! I'd love to hear from you ♡

Vee x

MASTERLIST

[shineon3]

I have no control impulse. Inspired by this masterpiece from the lovely @blamemma (also hello @summer04rayne @jisblooming <3)

Or how I ended up writing a streamer!Max AU

° ° °

“What's got you smiling like that, mate?”

Max blinks, zoning back into the conversation.

“What?”

Alex, his best friend, the traitor, chuckles at his confusion, and when he looks at his screen, the chat is doing so too. Max flushes, quickly locking his phone before focusing back on the stream. Alex is grinning widely at him on the screen. Ugh, what a pain.

“Tell us, Maxy, come on, what got you giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush, eh?”

That fucker! Alex laughs knowingly, and the chat goes wild as usual when they get to tease him, and Max knows he'll have to answer now. He clears his throat, trying to sound as unruffled as possible.

“I just- found a really cool looking Instagram page, that's all…”

The Thai's grin somehow widens even more, almost shark-like, and Max just dug his own grave, didn't he?

“Yeah? Wouldn't it happen to be a certain travel vlogger's page, perchance, Maxy?”

The blonde feels heat rising in his face, and he doesn’t need to look into the screen to know that he's blushing furiously. It's probably spreading to his neck too, god. Max hides his face in his hands, embarrassment making his skin crawl. Him and his big mouth and his lack of self-control when it comes to a certain curly haired brunette.

“That's- it's not- ugh!”

He stumbles over his words, and he hears Alex laugh harder in his headset. He knows it's good natured, though, and that's the only thing keeping him from just ending the call.

“Tell them more about Daniel, Max! Look how excited they are, you can't deny them that, come on!”

Max shakes his head, drinks a sip of his Red Bull to try and regain his composure. Alex got the chat involved now, and that means he can’t just brush it off. Well, he could, and honestly, apart from some trolls here and there, his little community is really nice and understanding, and they know not to push on things if Max doesn't want to elaborate. But… this is kind of harmless, he guesses, so he can play their game a bit.

The blonde sighs, glancing at the chat, and yeah, they're going wild. Thanks, Alex

“I don't even know why I'm friends with you, at this point.”

“Don't say that! I know you love my pretty face and my humor.”

° ° °

Half an hour later, Max wraps up the stream, a faint blush lingering on his cheeks after all that had happened during what Alex had described as “gushing over Daniel for more than ten minutes”.

He gets up, tidying his desk, throwing away the empty Red Bull cans and water bottles, as well as any wrapper he could find. Finally, he leaves his streaming room, shutting off all the lights and closing the door.

There's no sounds in the small apartment, which probably means his roommate is already asleep. It's like, 3am, so, fair. Max gets ready for bed before slipping under the covers, practically melting on the soft mattress. Just as he reaches for his phone to plug it to charge, he sees it.

Daniel Ricciardo uploaded a new video

He clicks on it with neck breaking speed, a beginning of shame curling in his gut when he sees it was posted barely thirty seconds ago. He likes it, saves it in a playlist for good measure, and lets Daniel's australian accent drown his self-loathing and lull him to sleep.

[ritsusakumawife]

Hiii this is my first time ever requesting so I hope I’m doing it right—

If you don’t mind, can I please request a SAGAU/Creator AU! Where the Creator just doesn’t care about their “Godly duties” (Helping people with their requests etc etc)

And instead of getting stressed abt the paperwork they just live their life relaxed and does whatever that comes to mind

(And maybe even spend some time with Kazuha or idk a character of your choice)

Please and thank you! <33

Dw you didn’t do anything wrong! And thank you for requesting <3

I sincerely apologize for any grammar mistakes I tiredly wrote this at 3am

I talk really fast with barely any pauses irl so the convos mayy seem a bit off/odd 😅

Warnings: Super ooc and bad grammar

Genshin Sagau x Reader

“Your Grace..Please excuse my rudeness but is it really alright to do this?”

“Mhm! It’s fine it’s fine”

“But—”

“I said it’s fine. It’s only a couple of papers anyway”

“Besides I’m sure you can handle it Morax”

“If that’s what you truly want then as your humble servant I have no choice but to obey”

“That’s the spirit!” You say while leaving

“Your Grace where are you going?”

“Oh nothing..Just uh going to go out and take care of some important business is all”

“Then, please let me send some escorts with you”

“I don’t need it. It’s only a short trip”

“It’s dangerous out there and it’s already getting dark”

“I promise it’ll be quick! Soo there’s no need to worry Morax”

“At least take one person with you Your Grace”

“Sigh..I already told you I don’t need it— wait..Y’know what, sure”

Zhongli quirks an eyebrow due to your sudden change of attitude

“Anyways, I’m going to go now Mr. Zhongli bye bye~ take care of everything while I’m gone!”

You go to a nearby field and spot the person you’re looking for

“Kazu! Over here!”

“Ah, your grace. What brings you here?”

“Well~ Care to join me for a short little trip?”

“A trip? Right now?”

“Mhm!”

“Please forgive me but, it’s getting late your grace”

“I don’t think it’s wise to travel in the dark. There’s a lot of danger waiting to strike”

“Says you. Training out here in the middle of nowhere”

“Aha..Guilty as charged”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. After all I’ll have you with me”

“You’ll protect me, won’t you?”

Kazuha blushes but quickly regains his composure

“Of course your grace”

“…”

“Hm? Your grace? Are you alright?”

“This isn’t fair!”

“What isn’t fair your grace?”

“You!”

“M-Me?” Kazuha stumbles on his words ..Uh word

“Yes, you! How can somehow have such a charming smile”

“And that isn’t all! You, Kaedehara Kazuha, are literally the embodiment of perfection!”

“Perfection!? Aha..You humble me too much your grace”

“Oh, but it’s true!”

“Ahem..Shall we depart for our 'short trip' now your grace?”

“Hey, don’t change the subject— But yes, let us depart now”

“Your grace, isn’t it time for us to head back now?”

“Hm? Oh, don’t worry~ We haven’t even been gone for that long”

“Are you sure?” Kazuha says worryingly

“It’ll be fine. I’m sure no one but Zhongli has even noticed I’m gone”

“R-Right..” Kazuha doubts your words

“WHERE ARE THEY?!?!!”

“DID YOU SEE THEIR GRACE?!”

“GUARDS! OUR CREATOR HAS GONE MISSING”

“EVERYONE PRESENT IN THIS THRONE ROOM MUST HELP SEARCH FOR THEIR GRACE”

“Sigh..Sometimes I wonder if I’m truly the closest to their grace or if I’m just an assistant..”

“Drinking wine seems like such a good idea right about now..”

“I wonder how their grace is doing”

“WOHOO! AGAIN AGAIN!”

“Kazu let’s do it again!”

“I don’t think—”

“Please~ Kazu can we? Please?”

“Alright, just one more time then we’ll head back, deal?”

“Ehe~ I was right to choose you as my companion for this trip”

“Like SpongeBob always says..It’s the best day ever~”

Kazuha smiles softly upon hearing your words

It’s nice to see you relax every once in a while or rather almost everyday he does wonder though, who is this "SpongeBob"?

“Kazu? Kazuha~ Are you there? Hello??” You wave your hands in front of his face

“Ah, right, well then shall we go?”

“Mhm! We shall!”

And with that, you both decide to go for one more round of..Free fall

…

You could always revive yourself so it’s fine if you die

[jbwashere]

Update: things are going smoothly, also I'm sick

Thank you so much for the Pokedex Info :D

From the moment I took a good look at his submas themed bedroomI knew for a fact this man didn't bathe.

AYOOO CREEP GOT HIS FIRST FANART I’M PROUD OF HIM!

And yes. That man haven’t touched water in days. He bath his pokemons often but forget to do it himself. Man is allergic to soap and those bangs have crusty hair gel expired from 2009

[screamingoverfiction]

Birdie

I don't really know what this is. Basically, my 3am fever dreams, fluff, filthy smut, descriptions of gore, and a whole lot of angst. Reader discretion is heavily advised. Canon Typical Violence. Ghost (mw2) x !f-reader, callsign Sparrow. I'm going to start working on some requests after this!

Word Count: 3.3k

She could see nothing but black. The cloth around her eyes prevented her vision. Her hands were bound behind her with a rope that dug into her wrists. Her legs were tied to the metal chair she was strapped to.

All she could hear was the faint buzz of an old lamp and the light dripping water.

Her throat was dry and screaming for water. Her lungs felt like someone lit them on fire and then stomped it out repeatedly. Her chest struggled for every breath, her body forcing itself to breathe, to stay alive.

She heard a metal door creak open, then slam shut. Heavy footsteps came closer, and she pushed herself against the chair, craning her body away.

Someone harshly ripped her blindfold down her face, and a firm hand grabbed her cheeks, forcing her to look at them.

"So you're the little bitch who sniped five of my men," The man said, saliva flying from his lips and splattering on her face when he spoke.

He looked about 45, with dark hair, a greasy face, and a full mustache. His hair was greying in some places, and his features were powerful and intimidating.

She kept her chin high, refusing to let him scare her. She stared daggers into his eyes, mustering as much saliva as she could and spitting it directly in his face.

The man flinched, slowly wiping his face and looking at his hand before snapping his eyes back to hers.

Before she could even blink, his palm collided with her cheek, her face reeling to the side, blood spurting from her mouth.

"We know who you work for. Does Captain Jonathan Price sound familiar? Seargent John Mactavish? Sergeant Kyle Garrick? What about Lieutenant Simon Riley?" The man hissed, grabbing her face again, searching her eyes for any signs of recognization.

"Trained in resisting torture, eh? Well, you'll be spitting names at my feet when we're done with ya," He sneered, harshly releasing her cheeks and standing up, looking behind him at two men who'd just entered the dimly lit room.

She swallowed thickly, straightening her posture as much as she could, glaring maliciously at the men.

The dark-haired man stood at the front of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark with fury. He opened his mouth and said two final words before exiting the room.

"Break her,"

-

"Four down, I've got a shot on one more," Sparrow spoke into her radio, keeping her sniper aimed at the final man, awaiting her call.

"Take the shot," Ghost's stern voice said through the coms.

"Copy that, Lt." She replied with a smirk, taking a moment to realign her shot before her finger squeezed the trigger.

The man fell, and on his way down, he knocked over a bunch of barrels, creating a loud ruckus.

Sparrow's eyes went wide, and she immediately ducked under cover, trying to hide away from the men who'd surely start looking for a sniper.

"Fuck. He went down with a bang, Ghost," Sparrow whispered, anxiously waiting for her orders.

"Dammit, get out of there, and don't let them see youleave your sniper it'll only weigh you down," Ghost replied swiftly.

"Copy," Sparrow answered, unhooking her sniper and setting it off to the side, covering it with a black blanket.

She quickly unsheathed her pistol, moving through the small building with precision and stealth.

Her heart stopped when she heard footsteps coming from the exit. At least two men speaking in Russian, which was never a good sign.

She took a deep breath and waited for one to open the door, but suddenly, a third man jumped through the window beside her, knocking her pistol from her hands and kicking her in the chest.

Knowing that there was little she could do now except scream. So that's what she did. She screamed as loud as she could, hoping to alert Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Price, or anyone in the surrounding area.

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME! HELP! SOMEONE HELP! FUCK YOU GET OFF ME!" She shouted, kicking and screaming, punching and spitting, fighting her captures as hard as she could until a she felt a syringe in her neck.

-

Ghost's ears immediately perked up at the sound of distant screams. Deep down, he hoped he was hearing things, but he knew right then that Sparrow had been caught.

The color drained from his face, and he jumped up, looking out over his cover to try spotting her, but the screams had gone quiet. His heart sank into his stomach. And he had to grip the concrete to keep himself from falling over. He couldn't think of anything but her and how he'd said to take the shot.

He felt like throwing up, but he knew he had to inform the team before he went out on his own to try and murder every single one of those men.

"T-They got Sparrow," He managed to stammer, surprising even himself at the rawness of his voice. His radio crackled, but no voice responded until a moment after.

"Is she KIA?" Price asked, maintaining a professional voice but inside, he was terrified.

"I don't know. I doubt they'd give up a chance at intel," Ghost responded, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Just- get back to extraction. We'll regroup there,"

-

Ghost wouldn't speak to anyone. He wouldn't sit, wouldn't eat, wouldn't drink. The only time he did anything was when he yelled at Price.

"Simon, we trying-"

"Then fucking try harder! It's been three fucking days, John! She's either dead or wishing she was, and what are you doing? Having a cup of fucking coffee and laughing with Laswell!" Ghost shouted, pointing at Price venomously. Behind his balaclava, his eyes were bloodshot and sleepless, showing the constant anxiety he'd been plagued with.

Price swallowed, clenching his jaw angrily.

"Get back to your courters, Riley," He demanded, knowing Ghost was only saying these things out of anger and fear.

Ghost walked past Price, slamming the door on his way out, the hinges rattling against the frame.

Soap was standing outside the room, seemingly aged ten years in three days. His eyes locked briefly with Ghost's as he furiously exited the room.

Ghost didn't stop as he strode through the base and down the hallway toward his room. His mind raced with anger toward Price and sickening guilt. He knew he shouldn't have told her to shoot.

He reached his room in a flurry of madness, throwing open the door and almost breaking the wood as it crashed shut.

He grabbed the first thing he saw, an old water cup on his dresser, and threw it against the wall, the glass shattering into millions of pieces.

He felt like he couldn't breathe. He was suffocating behind the mask. His lungs were in a cramped and ever-shrinking dark room, clawing the air from his body.

He reached up and ripped the mask off, throwing it down to the floor and sinking to his knees, hands covering his face as he resisted the urge to scream.

He'd called her little bird, or when it was just the two of them, his little bird. She was the one he'd go to when the words he kept inside continued to feast on his thoughts until he couldn't take it anymore.

There was a warm, soft spot in his cold heart specially reserved for her. She somehow managed to weasel her way past all his coldness and closed-off nature. He still didn't quite know how. Her smile, her laugh, the way she'd roll her eyes when he'd crack one of his infamous dark jokes.

She'd earned her nickname because of her tendencies to chirp and how she could snipe without ever being noticed, well, mostly. She was a dreamer, a singer, a Sparrow, and she was always optimistic unless you tried to speak to her before 8am.

There was never a dull day when she was around. Maybe that's why Ghost has only seen in grey since she's been gone.

His hands shook against his face, and the urge to claw his eyes out was immense. He wanted to take his pistol and aim it in his mouth, but the chance that she was still alive was what fueled his fury.

He needed to save her, even if it killed him.

-

Blood trickled down her hands, dripping from her fingertips and splattering into the pool on the floor.

She'd lost track of the days. Nothing mattered anymore. If she could will herself to die, she would.

The one thing that kept her sane was him. His crooked smirk and those pretty brown eyes. God, how she would die for those eyes.

Keeping sane throughout the hours of unendurable torture was agonizing. But she would replay their memories in her mind, trying to ignore the hot burning rods they kept prying into her chest.

When he'd taken off his mask in front of her.

It was late at night, and everyone else on base was fast asleep or desperately counting sheep in an attempt to.

Sparrow couldn't sleep, nightmares plagued her dreams, and she was afraid to close her eyes. So she lay there awake, thinking about him, of course.

Almost as if on cue, there was a knocking at her door. A small smile twitched on her lips, and she sat up, pulling her covers off and hurriedly walking to her door.

She took a deep breath before turning the knob, her smile widening when she saw Ghost standing outside.

He wore a simple balaclava, a dark t-shirt that exposed his muscular, tattooed arms, and grey sweatpants.

"Couldn't sleep?" She teased, opening the door wider and letting him walk inside.

"Well, looks like you couldn't either since you were eagerly awaiting my knock," Ghost replied, his eyes scanning the familiar space.

"Ha-ha, very funny," She sneered, quietly closing the door and turning around to face him.

When she faced him, she nearly jumped back in shock, her eyes growing wider.

There he stood, maskless, those tired brown eyes looking into hers, a subtle fear behind them. His hair was short darkish blond, and his face bore powerful handsome features. Scars littered his skin, but it didn't matter, he was the most beautiful thing in the world, and it scared her.

Sparrow's hands quickly came up to cover her eyes. Her mind couldn't process what was happening. He couldn't have just shown his face. It would make it all too real.

"Sparrow," Ghost said, reaching out and trying to pull her hands away, but she just shook her head.

"Sparrow," He tried again, voice growing softer. His hands traveled to her forearms, fingers grazing along the skin.

"Y/n," He whispered, finally making her lower her hands. Her eyes locked with his once again.

"I thought you didn't want this to be real," She asked, reaching up, cupping his face in her hand, thumb brushing over his cheek.

"Guess I lied," He replied smoothly, leaning down and softly pressing his lips to hers.

If you'd looked at the two of them in private, you wouldn't believe they'd never kissed. Never slept together. But they hadn't, neither one wanted anything real, and the proposition of 'just for fun' didn't sound appealing.

Sparrow kissed him back, keeping her hands on his face. His lips were soft and rough at the same time. He tasted like minty toothpaste and tea. His hands trailed down her waist, securing themselves around her hips.

Their kiss was full of yearning and passion. They were making up for all the lost moments.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do this," Ghost groaned against her lips, snaking his hands on the backs of her thighs and hoisting her up.

Sparrow wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles. She didn't break away from his lips, drunk on his lips.

Ghost carried her toward the bed, placing her down on the mattress and hovering over her, lips still hungrily kissing hers.

His hands traveled beneath her shirt, hesitating.

"Take it off," She breathed lustfully against his lips, her hands grazing over his clothed abdomen.

Ghost practically ripped her shirt off, his lips leaving hers to give attention to her newly exposed breasts, lips attaching to her sensitive nipple.

"Oh, fuck, Ghost-" Sparrow started to groan, but Ghost quickly cut her off

"That's not my name, birdie," He murmured, raising his lips and kissing the skin below her ear, causing a soft whimper to escape her lips.

"Simon," She whispered, reaching up and lacing her fingers in his short blond locks, gasping from the hickeys he marked on her collarbone.

Simon hummed devilishly, smirking against her skin and scattering even more love bites.

"Atta' girl," He said lowly, taking the hem of his shirt in one hand and swiftly pulling it over his head.

Y/n almost drooled at the sight of his toned muscles, prominent v-line, scars from battle littering his skin, and a faint happy trail leading down to the place her core desperately desired.

Simon lowered his body, hooking his fingers in her pants and pulling them down her legs, tossing them off the bed.

He wasted no time in doing the same with her panties, prying her legs back apart when they tried to snap shut out of embarrassment.

"Ah, ah, I wanna see my pretty little bird's cunt splayed out for me," He said darkly, dropping his mouth to her clit, tongue sliding inside her entrance.

Y/n had to clasp her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out in pleasure, her legs wrapping around his neck while he ravenously devoured her.

Simon held his hands on her thighs, keeping them spread as he continued working his tongue inside and outside her core, hitting the perfect nerves every time.

Waves of euphoria washed through her in swarms, her eyes rolling into her skull from the pure ecstasy that radiated through her body.

"Oh fuck, Simon, I'm gonna-" She started, but her sentence was cut off when he flicked his tongue, making her gasp.

"That's it, Y/n, cum on my tongue. I want to taste you," He breathed, working his mouth against her clit until her legs shook around his neck, and she cried out. Her orgasm coursed through her like a tsunami of bliss. Her eyes rolled, and she arched further into him, whimpering at the overstimulation.

Simon greedily lapped up her liquids like he was starved, only pulling away to raise his body over hers, crashing their lips back together.

"Fucking hell," He murmured, eagerly kissing her deeper.

Y/n hurriedly reached for his pants, her fingers hooking in the hemming and pulling them down his legs. His erection tented in his boxers, yearning to be touched.

Their lips met in another sloppy kiss, too caught up in the moment to care.

He quickly pulled his boxers off, groaning when the tip brushed against her already slick entrance.

"Simon," She whispered, her fingers tightly lacing in his blond hair, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Y/n," He replied in an equally quiet tone, slowly pushing himself inside.

The stretch was magnificent. She'd never fucked someone so big. The pain was soon replaced with redoubtable pleasure as he started to thrust.

Y/n nails dug into his shoulders, her moans of pure euphoria swallowed by Simon.

His arm moved upward, placing it beside her head to steady himself as he continued thrusting, hitting her g-spot with every steady himself.

"Oh fuck, it's like your cunt was made for me," Simon moaned, the guttural sound coming from the back of his throat, snapping his hips against hers, the sounds of slapping skin echoing throughout the room.

Her back arched into him, their chest pressing together as she became a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him.

"Fuck, you make such pretty noises. I'm gonna ruin you," He groaned, grasping one of her legs and hoisting it over his shoulder, deepening t the angle of his thrusts.

Soon enough, that familiar coil welled up inside her core once again, heightening her moans.

"Simon, fuck! Don't stop, please don't stop," She begged, whimpering below him, tears of pleasure rolling down her cheeks.

Simon groaned as her walls clenched around his cock, her orgasm spasming through her even more intense than the first time. He came not long after, her cunt squeezing around him, milking his cock dry.

She cried out as the waves overcame her, back arching into him, nails dragging down his shoulders and back, certainly leaving marks.

In the moments after their highs, not much was said nor done, just quick rapid breaths, trying to regain themselves, and short kisses, still chasing the flavor of the other.

Simon carefully pulled away, reaching over the side of her bed to collect their clothing, pulling his boxers on before helping her into his shirt.

After Y/n had successfully reclothed herself and gone to the bathroom(Simon carried her), she collapsed back onto her bed, sighing tiredly and closing her eyes.

When she didn't feel or hear Simon next to her, she opened an eye to find him simply admiring.

"You coming?"

He said nothing more as he slid under the covers next to her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her warmly.

"Is this real?" He whispered against her lips, protectively holding her as though she might slip away at any given moment.

"It is,"

Simon smiled.

Y/n sighed comfortingly against his lips, resting her forehead against his as she closed her tired eyes, awaiting the sweet kiss of sleep.

-

Her eyes were forced open by a blinding light- a flashlight. Well, that was new. Maybe they were going to do some sort of light torture next.

Her eyes tried to adjust to the new light, craning her head back instinctively when the figure walked over-no they were running-sprinting. That can't be good.

She whimpered in pain when they gently touched her face, and their hand immediately retreated back.

Her eyes finally adjusted to the light, just in time for her ears to start picking up noise as well. She heard the sound of a knife against a rope, and then she saw him.

An immense feeling of relief washed over her body at the sight of the masked man cutting her free. Tears welled in her eyes, and she started to cry.

He wore his hard shell skull mask and tactical gear, yet he worked so tenderly against her bonds.

When her limbs were finally free, she collapsed forward, but he caught her, wrapping his arms around her figure and lifting her effortlessly into his arms.

Tears of solace streamed down her cheeks. Sobbing into his chest, she did her best to hug him in her weak state, which probably looked and felt pretty pathetic.

"I know, birdie. It's alright now. I've got you," He whispered, his voice lulling her back into an exhausted sleep, despite the desperate, muffled voices she continued to hear.

-

Beeping, lots and lots of beeping. Hospital. Medic. Torture. Injuries. Soap. Ghost. Someone's hand was in hers. Simon. Twitch.

Simon's eyes opened at the slight movement of her hand. Then her fingers curled upwards until they locked with his.

Her eyes slowly and groggily opened, still glossy and hazed with sleep, but Simon could still see relief wash over her.

"Simon?" She whispered, voice raspy and breaking from screaming out in pain.

"Hey there, birdie," He said back, a small smile twitching on his lips, his eyes red from not sleeping.

"Is this real?" She questioned, blinking at him as if he might disappear, her hand tightening its grip on his.

Simon smiled again, standing up and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, brushing her hair back.

"It's real,"

Y/n smiled.

I love you all and I hope you enjoyed! &lt;3