#every time we go over a bridge i'm like BRIDGE!! and she's like the light is shining on the water. i saw a heron. and i'm like ROMANCE

[girderednerve]

i have lived here for more than a year now but still anytime we go anywhere, up to & including the grocery store that is less than five miles away, i end up just like, yelling about it. i'm like WHAT THE FUCK. and my girlfriend is like, what? and i'm like MOUNTAIN. and she's like, oh right yes. that again. it's a wonderful mountain, i agree. we'll be driving somewhere and i'll interrupt her to go SCENIC VISTA! VISTA SPOTTED! SORRY YOU HAVE TO LOOK AT THE VISTA!!! and she'll be like, so true babe, sure. getting mildly lost and i'm yelling CREEK! ROCKY CREEK! THROUGH TREES! like i'm a knight errant in an old romance & i've just spotted a damsel

[existential-dread-in-the-am]

This is not even close to all of them but it's already way too many...

tag the lyrics that will forever live in your head rent free

[sherewrytes]

Love and Gunshots, Eren x Black Reader

Gang member Eren x Introvert black reader

Summary: In a dangerous urban landscape, y/n, an introverted Criminal Law student, finds herself drawn into the violent world of the Sixx Gang through her protective cousin, Onyankopon. When she locks eyes with Eren Yeager, a hot-headed gang member, a twisted game of desire and danger begins.

As Eren becomes obsessed with y/n, he threatens to unravel the fragile balance Ony has maintained to shield her from their brutal lifestyle. With loyalty tested and violence lurking at every turn, the lines between love and danger blur, leading to a dark climax where the heart proves just as lethal as a gun.

Genre: Dark Romance/Crime Modern au

Warnings: Graphic violence, drug use, smut, obsession

I'll re edit this when I'm better, in the mean time happy reading

Taglist: @topshotdivaa @prettypink-princesss @burpzz @niaizzy1623 @jcoleisbetter @msjaeger @hidd3nbimbo

Chapter 3: Trapsta

Eren POV

The days following that night on the bridge were marked by an aching tension, a gnawing restlessness that settled deep in my chest. I couldn’t shake her presence, the way she stood there with her chin raised, eyes brimming with defiance and something else—something she wasn’t ready to admit. It was as if her essence had seeped into my veins, an unrelenting current that refused to let go.

Every corner of the city whispered her name. The dim alleys where shadows stretched long into the night, the crowded bars where laughter and shouting overlapped like a deafening wave—even there, I couldn’t escape. My world had become a labyrinth where every path led back to her. Each step I took, every breath I drew, carried the ghost of her scent and the memory of her touch.

I found myself on that same bridge again, leaning against the cold metal railing, the wind biting at my skin. The night was deep and dark, the stars above obscured by the city’s light pollution. The silence was broken only by the distant hum of traffic, a lullaby to the restless. The city lights flickered on the river’s surface below, creating a distorted mirror that seemed to mock my turmoil.

“Back so soon?” Her voice sliced through the night like a blade, sharp and sure. I turned, a smirk playing at my lips as Y/n stepped out of the shadows, her figure outlined by the soft glow of a nearby streetlamp. She looked both fierce and fragile, like a flame that could either warm you or burn you alive.

“Could say the same for you,” I said, unable to tear my eyes away from her. There was something magnetic about her presence, something that made my pulse quicken and my carefully constructed walls start to crack. The air between us was electric, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

She folded her arms over her chest, a defensive move that did little to hide the vulnerability beneath. “What is this, Eren? Some kind of sick game?”

I took a step closer, closing the distance between us until I could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. The scent of her perfume—soft, intoxicating—wrapped around me like a chain. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s the only thing that makes sense anymore.”

Her eyes narrowed, searching mine for an answer I couldn’t give. Silence fell between us, thick and suffocating, as we stood on the precipice of something we weren’t ready to name. The wind picked up, tangling her hair and sending shivers down my spine.

“You’re going to ruin everything,” she whispered, the words trembling as they left her lips. I saw the way her throat bobbed when she swallowed as if the confession itself had been painful.

I reached out, my fingers brushing against her cheek, and for a heartbeat, she didn’t pull away. The contact sparked something primal that sent a shiver down my arm. “Maybe,” I said, voice low and laced with something dangerous, “but maybe some things are meant to be ruined.”

A flicker of fear flashed in her eyes, quickly replaced by defiance. She grabbed my wrist, her grip firm and unyielding, sending a shock through my system. Her touch was fire and ice, a paradox that left me breathless. “This has to stop, Eren. Whatever this is, it’s going to destroy us both.”

I leaned in, so close that our breaths mingled, the space between us shrinking to nothing. Her eyes locked onto mine, their wariness mingling with something deeper, something she tried to hide. “Then let it,” I whispered, my voice a challenge, a promise.

For a moment, the world stood still. The city around us, the chaos and noise—it all faded into the background. All that existed was her, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the fire in her eyes that matched the storm in my own. I felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins, daring me to push the boundaries, to see just how far we could fall.

Then, just as suddenly as the moment had come, she pushed me away, the spell broken. The sharp sting of rejection cut through me, and I felt the urge to pull her back, to hold on until she stopped fighting. My hands clenched at my sides, every muscle straining against the need to close the distance again.

“This isn’t over,” I said, more to myself than to her, my voice hoarse with unspent emotion.

She looked at me one last time, something unreadable flickering across her face before she turned and walked away into the night. The sound of her footsteps echoed long after she disappeared from view, a haunting reminder that the battle had only just begun. The darkness swallowed her, and I stood there, the taste of her defiance and fear lingering like smoke in the back of my throat.

I leaned back against the railing, eyes closing as the night wind stung my skin. My heart pounded with a ferocity that refused to be quelled. This was more than a game, more than an obsession—it was a descent, and neither of us was prepared for how deep it would go.

The morning light sliced through the half-open blinds, casting thin, golden stripes across the room cluttered with evidence of last night’s excess. The tang of cheap perfume and stale liquor hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid hint of smoke from cigarettes I barely remembered finishing. Annalise was sprawled across the sheets, limbs draped in a careless tangle, her blonde hair fanning out like a halo that mocked the sharp edge of her smirk. She was a means to an end, a temporary balm for an itch I needed to scratch, a way to drown out the nagging pull of Y/n’s absence.

A sharp knock at the door jolted me from my reverie, rattling through the haze of leftover adrenaline and exhaustion. Before I could react, the door swung open with a force that made the hinges groan, and Ony stormed in, eyes dark and deadly. He scanned the room, pausing on Annalise just long enough for his expression to harden into something venomous before snapping back to me, flames in his stare.

Annalise slid off the bed with a lazy stretch, a wicked grin spreading across her lips as she walked over to Ony. Her eyes glimmered with mischief as she reached out, brushing her hand over his chest, nails grazing his skin. “See you tonight, baby,” she purred, her voice a deliberate taunt before she sauntered out of the room, hips swaying with calculated arrogance. The door clicked shut behind her, and the silence followed was electric, the air between us crackling with unspoken threats.

Ony’s fists clenched at his sides, muscles coiling beneath his skin like taut wires ready to snap. His chest rose and fell with heavy, deliberate breaths. I leaned back against the headboard, letting a smirk curve my lips, the deflection coming as naturally as breathing.

“I thought this was about Anna,” I said, tilting my head with a mocking lift of my brow.

He rolled his eyes, the gesture sharp and dismissive. “No. She’s fucking Connie too,” he spat, voice dripping with disdain. The room fell into a momentary silence, a pause heavy enough to suffocate. Then, without warning, he surged forward, grabbing the front of my shirt and yanking me off the bed.

The floor rushed up to meet me, and I landed hard, the impact reverberating through my spine and knocking the breath from my lungs. Dazed, I barely had time to process before Ony was on me, his fist a blur as it connected with my jaw. The pain exploded, hot and electric, radiating through my skull. I laughed through the blood that seeped into my mouth, the metallic tang fueling the reckless defiance simmering in my veins.

“That all you got?” I taunted, wiping the blood from my split lip with the back of my hand. The sting sharpened my senses, cutting through the fog of pain and exhaustion. Ony’s eyes flashed with something primal, an emotion too raw and fierce to name. He yanked me up again, our faces inches apart, his breath hot and ragged against my skin.

“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice was a low snarl, vibrating with barely controlled rage. “I know she’s been sneaking out to meet you. You’re going to get her killed, Eren.”

The words landed like a punch, heavier than any blow he’d thrown. For a moment, the room blurred at the edges, the implications sinking in, pressing down like a weight on my chest. But I couldn’t let him see that. Couldn’t let him think he had the upper hand.

“Better me than you,” I said, my voice cold, defiant. The smirk returned, a mask of indifference that belied the chaos inside me.

Ony’s eyes flared, and before I could brace myself, he slammed me against the wall, the plaster cracking under the force. The impact rattled my teeth, but I barely registered it before we were grappling, fists flying, the room dissolving into a blur of raw, unfiltered violence. Each punch, each shove, was a testament to the unspoken war between us—a fight not just for dominance, but for the fragile line that tethered Y/n to safety.

Breath came in ragged gasps, muscles aching, skin slick with sweat and blood. Ony’s knuckles connected with my ribs, sending a shockwave of pain that nearly buckled my knees. I retaliated with a strike to his jaw, the sharp crack echoing in the small room. His expression flickered with surprise before morphing into a snarl, and he tackled me, sending us both crashing onto the floor.

Pinned beneath his weight, the pressure on my chest made breathing a struggle. His eyes bored into mine, seething with rage and something else—something that looked a lot like fear. He gritted his teeth, fists still poised for another hit.

“Why do you not want me around Y/n?” I gasped, the question tumbling out before I could stop it.

Ony’s expression darkened further, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he held back words that seemed to scorch the back of his throat. Finally, he released me, shoving me back to his feet with a glare that promised this wasn’t over.

“You’re going to get her killed.” The echo of his words chased me long after he turned and left, the door slamming behind him like a final warning.

I glared at Ony, wiping the blood from my lip and smiling. “Maybe I love her, you don’t know.” His eyes widened, a flash of shock breaking through the mask of anger, and before I could react, he grabbed me by the shirt again and swung at me with another bone-jarring punch. I watch Ony storm out of my room and then my apartment. Ony slammed the door so hard it rattled the door frame. The sound echoed in the room, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence that sat heavy in the air. I blinked, staring at the spot where he’d just been, trying to process how the night had turned on its head so fast.

My jaw tightened as his words replayed in my mind. "You’re going to get her killed." What the hell did he mean by that? I wasn’t about to sit back and let Ony dictate who I could and couldn’t see. Not when it came to her.

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my face as I tried to shake off the frustration bubbling up in my chest. Ony’s my boy, but he doesn’t get it. She’s different. Quiet, soft, nothing like the girls who hang around the block, hoping to catch a piece of me. She doesn’t even know the power she’s got... or maybe she does, and that’s what’s driving me crazy.

I sat back on my bed, reaching for a cigarette to smoke, eyes narrowing. The tension in my body refused to ease, and I smirked bitterly. One can try to keep her away from me, but he doesn’t know me like that. I always get what I want.

Your POV

The hinges of the front door creaked as I slowly pushed it open, my heart thundering in my chest. The house was dark, just as I’d left it hours ago, but something about the stillness felt… off.

I slipped inside, easing the door shut behind me. My feet moved cautiously over the hardwood floors, barely making a sound as I crept towards the stairs. The thrill of sneaking out was long gone, replaced by a gnawing sense of unease.

“Where were you?”

The voice sliced through the silence, low and sharp, and I froze. My stomach dropped as my eyes darted to the living room. At first, I couldn’t see him, but then a faint glow from the streetlights outside caught the outline of Ony slouched in the armchair, his arms crossed, his face shadowed but unmistakably stern.

I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat rising to my face. "I was—"

“Don’t even try it,” he cut me off, leaning forward so the light caught his expression—cold, angry, and something else I couldn’t quite place. “You think I don’t know where you were?”

My pulse quickened. I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

“Eren,” he spat the name like a curse, shaking his head. “Of all people, you went to see him?”

My mouth opened, but no words came out. What could I say? I wasn’t sorry. Not even close.

“You don’t understand,” I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t understand?” Ony’s laugh was bitter as he stood, his presence towering over me now. “You don’t understand, Y/N. You don’t know what kind of man he is, what kind of life he lives. And I’ll be damned if I let you get caught up in that.”

I clenched my fists, feeling my frustration bubble over. “You can’t tell me what to do, Ony! I’m not a kid anymore!”

“And yet you’re acting like one,” he shot back, his voice rising now. “Running off in the middle of the night, sneaking around with someone like him? Do you have any idea what you’re playing with?”

I flinched at the venom in his words but held my ground. “You think you know him, but you don’t. He’s—”

“He’s dangerous,” Ony interrupted, his voice hard now. “And you’re going to get yourself hurt. Or worse.”

We stood there, the weight of his words hanging in the air. My mind raced, my heart still pounding, and for a moment, I felt like a kid again—caught, cornered, and desperate to break free.

The air was thick with tension, each breath feeling heavier than the last. My heart raced, but I wasn’t about to back down. Not this time.

Ony stood in front of me, his eyes burning with an intensity that made my skin crawl. His words echoed in my mind—dangerous—but what did he know? Was he so sure about Eren, about everything, just because of the rumours and the past? His past?

"You don't know him like I do," I finally said, my voice shaking with a mix of defiance and something else I couldn't place. "How long have you known Eren? A few weeks? Maybe less?"

Ony's face twitched like he wasn't expecting me to question him back. Good. I wasn’t some naïve kid anymore, living in his shadow, following every word he said without thinking for myself. I stepped forward, my feet hitting the floor with more force than I meant.

"What about you, Ony?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "You think you know the kind of life he leads, but how long have you been doing this? How many more people have you hurt in your ‘game’?”

His jaw clenched, a flicker of something in his eyes that I couldn’t quite read. But it wasn’t fear. No, he wasn’t afraid of me. It was something darker, something more resigned. “You don’t get it.”

I took a step closer. "No, you don’t get it, Ony. You're talking like you're the only one who’s been in this world. Like you’re the only one who’s seen the violence, the dirt, the blood. But Eren... he’s different from you."

Ony scoffed, but I wasn’t done. "He’s been through shit—stuff you couldn’t even imagine—and yeah, maybe he’s dangerous, but you’re not some saint either. You’ve been in this world longer than Eren. Hell, longer than any of us. So don’t stand there and pretend you know what’s best for me, for my life, just because you’ve been around longer.”

I swallowed, trying to steady my breath, but it felt like the walls were closing in. "I need to figure this out. I need to know who he is. I need to understand why I feel this pull to him. Don’t act like you’ve got all the answers, Ony, because you don’t."

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out, his anger pushing him to something he couldn’t take back. But instead, he exhaled sharply, almost as if the weight of my words had hit him harder than he cared to admit.

“You don’t know what you’re messing with.” His voice dropped, quieter now, but just as sharp. “Eren’s a ticking time bomb. And when it blows, you’ll be the one left standing in the wreckage.”

I stood there, feeling the intensity of his gaze bore into me, but there was no turning back now. I was done being scared, done hiding from the truth.

“Let it blow then.” My voice was steady, unwavering. “Let it all come crashing down.”

Ony’s expression shifted from anger to something sharper—something colder. He took a step closer, his presence almost suffocating now, and I felt a chill run down my spine, but I stood my ground.

“This is the man you want, Y/N?” Ony’s voice was low, dangerous, as he shook his head. “Him? Eren? For real?”

I didn’t flinch. “You don’t get it, Ony. I don’t need your approval.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned in, his eyes locked onto mine. “Eren’s a fucking mess. And you wanna get tangled up in that? Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Don’t make me call Aunt Marsha and tell her what you’re up to.”

I froze for a second, the mention of my mom slicing through me like a knife. "Don't you dare bring my mom into this," I hissed, my teeth gritting as the tension crackled in the air between us.

Ony didn’t seem fazed. “I will if I have to, Y/N. You think you know what you’re doing, but you’re playing with fire. This is the last time I’ll warn you.” His voice was dangerously calm like he was speaking to a child. “Stay away from Eren.”

Something inside me snapped. I wasn’t a kid. I wasn’t going to let him control me, not like this.

I tilted my chin up, looking him dead in the eye, and said, “I don’t give a fuck.”

For a long moment, Ony just stared at me, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His face twisted in disbelief like I’d slapped him across the face. “Excuse me?”

I wasn’t backing down. “I said I don’t give a fuck.”

He blinked like he was processing what I’d just said, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. But then, something broke in his expression. He laughed, a sharp, almost incredulous sound like he couldn’t believe his ears.

“Nah, nah. You must be trippin’.” He shook his head, still laughing. “You think I’m gonna let you throw your life away over this?”

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even blink. “You can keep laughing all you want, Ony, but this is my choice. Not yours.”

The tension in the room grew thick enough to choke on, but I held his gaze, refusing to look away. “Stay the fuck out of my life.”

Ony’s laughter faded, but there was still that cold edge to his stare. He looked at me like he didn’t know who I was anymore like I was some stranger standing in his living room.

Ony’s sigh was like the air leaving the room, heavy and resigned. He rubbed his hand over his face, a tired motion as if he was worn out by the whole thing like this conversation was more of a burden to him than a warning. He stared at me with a mixture of frustration and disappointment.

“You’re an honour roll student,” he muttered, his voice suddenly low, almost sad. “Look at the fucking hood around us, Y/N. You want in that life? The life I’m in? The trapping, the pushing, the constant paranoia? You always gotta be on your toes ‘cause of the opps lurking around? You think this is what you want?”

His words hit me, hard. The weight of them, the harshness, the reality he was trying to drill into me. But I wasn’t some naive little girl, and I wasn’t going to let his guilt trip pull me back into a corner.

“You want a man in that life?” he continued, his voice growing sharper. “Don’t fuck your life up for one man, Y/N. You know he’s fucking around with other girls, right? Do you think you’re so special? Do you think you’re important? Don’t be dumb.”

I blinked, his words stinging, but something inside me snapped—something raw and real. I felt my chest tighten, the anger rising like a tide I couldn’t hold back.

“You think I don’t know?” I finally shot back, my voice colder than I meant it to be. “You think I’m stupid?”

His face twisted in disbelief like he was expecting me to fall apart, to let his words break me. But I wasn’t about to.

“You’re right about one thing,” I said, my voice steady now. “This life you’re in—trapping, pushing, the constant danger—isn’t something I want. But I’m not some stupid girl who’s gonna let you tell me what I can and can’t want.”

Ony looked at me, his expression hard, his jaw clenched as he watched me with growing frustration. But I wasn’t done.

“Yeah, I know about Eren.” I swallowed, feeling the tightness in my throat. “I know what kind of man he is. And you think that’s gonna scare me away? That’s gonna stop me from wanting to know him?”

He threw his hands up, frustrated. “You think this is some cute little love story? Do you think you can just waltz into his world and get a happy ending? It doesn’t work like that.”

I took a step forward, my fists clenched, but I wasn’t shaking. “I don’t need you to protect me, Ony. I’m not some kid who needs you to shield me from the world. I’ll make my own choices.”

Ony stared at me, incredulous, like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. For a second, I thought he might explode, might lash out. But instead, his shoulders sagged, his eyes dropping to the floor.

“You’re making a huge mistake,” he said, his voice almost quieter now like the fight was draining out of him.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. The choice was already made. I was done listening to his warnings. I was done being told who I could and couldn’t care about.

“I’ll make my own mistakes,” I whispered, but I said it with conviction. “And I’ll live with them.”

I turned to leave, feeling Ony’s gaze on my back, the weight of his disappointment heavier than I wanted to admit. But nothing was going to stop me now.

My feet pounded against the stairs as I stormed up to my room, the sharpness of Ony’s words still echoing in my ears. The frustration, the anger—it all felt like a storm building inside me, one I couldn’t outrun, even if I tried.

I could feel the tears starting to prick at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not yet. I wouldn’t let him see me break.

But as I slammed my bedroom door behind me and leaned against it, my chest tight, the tears came anyway. It wasn’t just the anger I felt—it was the hurt. The deep hurt that Ony, my cousin, could speak to me like that. He’d never done that before. Not even in the middle of our biggest fights. He was the one who’d always been there for me, the one who'd protected me, but now it felt like he was pushing me away.

I wiped my eyes furiously, pacing the room as my thoughts swirled. How could he say those things to me? How could he be so cold, like I was just some naive kid who didn’t know what she was doing? Was I making a mistake?

No. I had to stop myself. I had to remind myself that I wasn’t the same girl anymore. I wasn’t going to let anyone tell me what I could and couldn’t have. Not even Ony.

But the doubt still lingered. He had never spoken to me like that before. Never in all the years, I’d known him, even when we fought over the stupidest things. It felt like I had shattered something between us, and I wasn’t sure if it could ever be fixed.

I let out a shaky breath, sitting down on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall, lost in thought. Why did it have to be this way?

Why couldn’t I just want what I wanted without everyone trying to control it?

Eren’s POV

I walked into Connie’s place, the door creaking shut behind me, and immediately the smell hit me—the thick, heavy scent of weed. Connie’s place always had that vibe, a comfortable chaos where nothing was ever off-limits. The faint buzz of a stereo in the background, the low murmur of voices, and the haze that hung in the air made everything feel slower and more relaxed. But that vibe didn’t match what I saw when I stepped into the living room.

There was Ony, slouched back in the armchair, a fat blunt dangling from his fingers as he lazily cleaned his AR-15. He looked like he was in the middle of something, but his eyes—those cold, sharp eyes—shot straight at me the moment I walked in.

I moved closer, past him, toward the couch where Annalise was sitting in Connie’s lap. She didn’t even look up at first, too busy with her hands working a joint in between her fingers. But as soon as I leaned down, I placed a soft kiss on her cheek, a brief moment of affection that she responded to with a smile, the corner of her mouth curling up.

“Hey, baby,” she said, her voice light, her hand still rolling the joint like it was second nature.

I sat down beside her, but something about the atmosphere in the room felt off. Ony’s gaze never left me, a heavy, calculating stare that made my skin prickle. The air between us was thick, filled with an unspoken tension.

I could feel it before I even said anything—the simmering hostility. Ony’s expression was cold, eyes narrow as he took another drag from the blunt. His fingers gripped the gun tighter, methodical, as if cleaning it was more of a distraction from whatever was going on in his head.

“What’s up, Ony?” I asked, my voice casual, but I couldn’t ignore the way he was looking at me. It was like he was waiting for something, some opening to lash out.

He exhaled smoke slowly, the room thick with the scent of it, and without breaking eye contact, he muttered, “Nothing. Just cleaning my shit.”

I raised an eyebrow, knowing that wasn’t the full story. I could feel the undercurrent of frustration radiating off him, but I wasn’t about to back down. Not now.

I leaned back on the couch, glancing at Annalise, who seemed oblivious to the tension building in the room. But Ony? Ony was staring me down like he was waiting for me to make a move.

“You’re still fucking with her, huh?” Ony finally spoke, his voice low, but there was an edge to it. “After all this time? You think you got her under control?”

My chest tightened, the irritation rising as his words sank in. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked, my voice sharp, as I shot him a glance that was heavy with annoyance.

Ony scoffed, his lips curling into something close to a sneer. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? You think I don’t know what you’re doing with Y/N? Playing around with her, messing with her head? Man, you’re seriously out of your mind.”

I leaned forward, my temper starting to flare. “What’s your problem with her? You still think you can control who she talks to, who she fucks with?” I felt the edge in my voice, but I wasn’t backing down.

Annalise looked up from what she was doing, sensing the shift in the mood. But Ony wasn’t having it. He flicked the ash from his blunt, his gaze never leaving me. “She’s a fucking honour roll student, and you’re dragging her into this life. Don’t act like you’re a good guy in all of this, Eren.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling the tension escalate. Ony always had a way of pushing my buttons, but I wasn’t going to let him bait me into a fight. “I’m not dragging her into anything. She’s her fucking person.”

He laughed bitterly, his eyes flicking to Annalise for a split second before he shot me a look that was all too familiar. “Yeah? And you think she knows what she’s getting into? Do you really think you’re the one who gets to decide what’s best for her? Come on, man, don’t be dumb.”

I stood up suddenly, my chair scraping against the floor. “You wanna talk about dumb? You really wanna lecture me about what’s best for her when you can barely keep your shit together?”

Ony stood up too, slow and deliberate, the tension between us thickening. But before anything could escalate, Connie called from the other room, his voice cutting through the silence. “Yo, chill out, both of you.”

I looked at Ony one last time, the animosity thick between us, and then I turned back to Annalise. She didn’t seem to care about what was going on.

I eyed Connie and Annalise, the air thick with unspoken tension before I let out a laugh that didn’t reach my eyes. “Guess you were right, Ony,” I said, glancing back at him with a smirk. “Anna’s really fucking... loving the crew.”

Annalise rolled her eyes, not even giving me the satisfaction of a response. She just kept working, her fingers still focused on rolling the joint like everything was normal, like there wasn’t this storm swirling around us.

I was about to speak again when the door to the apartment creaked open, and Jean and Reiner strolled in, their usual swagger making its entrance before their words did. They dapped up everyone in the room, completely ignoring me.

“Yo, the fuck?” I muttered, irritation bubbling under the surface. “Since when we beefing?”

Jean didn’t even spare me a glance before he replied. “Cause I heard you’ve been making trouble for Y/N’s life, man.”

My eyes narrowed, and I could feel the annoyance rising in me. “If anyone’s got a fucking problem, they can shoot me. Ain’t nobody gonna stop me from doing what I want.”

That was when Ony moved.

It was quick, too quick for me to even process. I felt the sharp pain before I realized what had happened. A burst of fire shot through my thigh, and I staggered back, looking down at the dark stain spreading through my pants. My hand automatically reached for the wound, but the pain was already searing, burning through me.

Ony stood there, his cold eyes locked on me, his gun still pointed toward the floor. “You talk too much, Eren,” he said, his voice low and calm, like he hadn’t just shot me in the fucking thigh.

I gritted my teeth, fighting through the shock. The room was quiet for a second, the air heavy with what had just happened. The others, Jean and Reiner, looked on, no one daring to make a move. I could feel the blood beginning to pool, the sting of the bullet still fresh.

“What the fuck, Ony?” I spat, trying to stay on my feet, but the pain made my vision blur. “You really wanna do this right now?”

Ony didn’t flinch. “You’ve been warned, Eren. I told you to stay the fuck away from Y/N.”

Jean finally stepped forward, a half-smirk on his face. “Guess that’s one way to shut you up.”

Reiner didn’t say a word, but his eyes flicked to the wound and then to Ony. I could see the hesitation in his stance, but he didn’t interfere.

I swallowed the pain, the anger, and everything else building up inside me. “This shit’s far from over,” I growled under my breath, my vision clearing as the adrenaline kicked in. “You’ve made a mistake, Ony. But I’m not done.”

But Ony just shrugged, the same cold expression on his face. “You keep thinking that, Eren.”

And that was all he said before turning away, walking back to his chair, and picking up the blunt like nothing had happened.

Connie let out a heavy sigh, his eyes flicking between me and Ony before settling on me, a mix of frustration and disbelief on his face. Annalise, on the other hand, looked like she’d just seen a ghost. Her mouth was hanging open, and she was frozen, eyes wide as she looked between me and the blood seeping from my leg.

“Annalise!” Connie barked, his tone sharp, and she snapped out of her daze. She hurried off to the other room, her feet scrambling across the floor, her movements quick and jerky like she’d just woken up from a bad dream.

Connie pulled his phone from his pocket, already dialling as he stepped closer to me. His jaw was tight, muscles in his neck twitching with the annoyance he clearly didn’t want to show. “Goddamn, Eren,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head before he lifted the phone to his ear. “Hange, it’s Connie. We’ve got a problem.”

I gritted my teeth, trying to focus, trying to keep my head straight despite the pain. My leg was on fire, the blood rushing faster now, soaking through my pants. But I wasn’t about to show weakness. “I’m fine,” I muttered, though the words were strained, the pain threatening to overpower me. “Just need to patch it up. I’ve had worse.”

Connie didn’t even look at me. “Shut up, Eren. You’re not ‘fine.’ You’re lucky Ony didn’t blow your fucking leg off.”

The truth of that hit me harder than I cared to admit. Ony wasn’t playing games anymore. I knew he wasn’t the type to hesitate, but this? This was something different. He wasn’t going to just let me walk away anymore.

Annalise came back with the first aid kit, her hands shaking as she knelt beside me, her expression conflicted between worry and disbelief. She quickly opened the kit, pulling out gauze and bandages. I could see the hesitation in her hands, the way she was trying not to look directly at the blood, but she was quick. She knew what she was doing.

“I’m sorry, Eren,” she muttered, her voice softer than usual. “I didn’t... I didn’t know he was going to...”

I shook my head, forcing a chuckle through the pain. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

As she applied pressure to the wound, I gritted my teeth, trying not to wince too hard. The burn of the bullet in my leg was making it harder to focus on anything else, but I wasn’t about to show weakness.

Ony, though, was silent. The only sound was the faint flicker of the blunt burning down to the filter in his fingers, and the occasional deep drag he took as he watched me, a quiet satisfaction behind his eyes. It wasn’t just about the bullet. It was about power and control. He wanted me to feel this.

Connie’s voice cut through my thoughts as Hange picked up on the other end of the line. “Yo, Hange, we need you here. Eren got hit. It’s bad, but it’s not fatal.”

Hange’s voice came through quickly. “Got it, I’m on my way.”

Connie ended the call, his gaze flicking back to me with a look that was less about concern and more about the chaos that was about to unfold. He didn’t have to say it out loud, but I knew. This wasn’t just about a bullet wound anymore. The tension was building, and there was no way we were leaving this room without something else going down.

[rpmemes-galore]

Chappell Roan : The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess album ... sentence starters

tw for some sexual content and language

"Is it casual now?"

"You're losing it lately."

"I'm so sick of online love."

"It's gonna cause a scene."

"You wonder why I'm bitter…"

"I just wanna get to know ya."

"You coming home with me?"

"We're hot, we're drunk, wow."

"Won't make my mama proud."

"Mini skirt and my go-go boots."

"But I can't help what I can't help."

"Baby, why don't you come over?"

"Let's make this bed get squeaky."

"So slow down, sit down, it's new."

"Got so close, but then you lost it."

"Oh my god, you are heaven sent…"

"If karma's real, hope it's your turn."

"It's comical, the bridges you burn."

"Should've listened to your friends."

"If I didn't love you, it would be fine."

"Fell in love with the thought of you."

"So, baby, let's get freaky, get kinky."

"I thought you thought of me better."

"It's hot when you have a meltdown."

"Do you picture me like I picture you?"

"She showed me things I didn't know."

"Every place leads back to your place."

""Here we go, again. Everything is fine."

"Not overdramatic, I know what I want."

"And he was wearing these fugly jeans."

"Touch me, baby, put your lips on mine."

"Wishing you the best, in the worst way."

"This is what I wanted, this is what I like."

"Oh, some good girls do bad things, too."

"Can't be a good, good girl even if I tried."

"I try not to care, but it hurts my feelings."

"I love a little drama, let's start a bar fight."

"It's all in my head, but I want non-fiction."

"You're hating yourself, I'm feeling myself."

"I know you want it, baby, you can have it."

"I could be the one, or your new addiction."

"Never waste a Friday night on a first date."

"Now I'm choked up, face down, burnt out."

"I've been a good, good girl for a long time."

"But, baby, I like flirting, a lover by my side."

"So, now when we kiss, I have anger issues."

"I don't want the world, but I'll take this city."

"Could go to hell, but we'll probably be fine."

"Every night's another reason why I left it all."

"Got what you wanted, so stop feeling sorry."

"Ruined my credit, stole my cute aesthetic…"

"'Cause if we do coffee, it's never just coffee."

"I try to be the chill girl but, honestly, I'm not."

"We're leaving the planet and you can't come."

"People say I'm jealous, but my kink is karma."

"You'll say that you're sorry. I know that's a lie."

"Can't meet you for dinner at the Italian place."

"Um, can you play a song with a fucking beat?"

"Here come the excuses that fuel the illusions."

"That’s my type of fun, that's my kind of party."

"Who can blame a girl? Call me hot, not pretty."

"You don't have to stare, comе here, get with it!"

"I guess we could pretend we didn't cross a line."

"And you're getting pissed off, it's getting me off."

"'Cause everything good happens after midnight."

"If you really wanna leave, I'll never make you stay."

"No need to be hateful in your fake Gucci sweater."

"To think, I almost had it going, but I let you down."

"No one's touched me there in a damn hot minute!"

"I'm feeling kinda freaky, maybe it's the moonlight."

"I'm feeling kinda freaky, maybe it's the club lights."

"There's no one else who could. the only one is you."

"You sent him pictures and playlists and phone sex."

"I heard you like magic. I've got a wand and a rabbit."

"I kinda wanna kiss your girlfriend, if you don't mind."

"We've done this before, and I don't need it anymore."

"It's not attractive wearing that dress and red lipstick."

"If it hasn't happened, yet, then maybe you should go."

"Who knew that we'd let it get this bad when it ended?"

"He doesn't have what it takes to be with a girl like me."

"I hate that I let this drag on so long, you can go to hell."

"My friends call me a loser, 'cause I'm still hanging around."

"Baby, do you like this beat? I made it so you'd dance with me."

"I'm too scared to say half of the things I do when I picture you."

"Nothing good happens when it's late and you're dancing alone."

"And you're getting called out, 'cause you're running your mouth."

"'Cause if we have wine, 'cause if we have wine. I know that's a lie."

"Lying to your friends about how he's such a goddamn good lover."

"What's it take to get your number? What's it take to bring you home?"

"Should've listened to your friends 'bout his girlfriend back in Boston."

"Knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out, is it casual now?"

[magewritesstories]

[ SPENCER REID ] GIRL DINNER

cw. you and spencer are alone in the bullpen after a long case and you introduce him to girl dinner, guest starring spencer's glasses bc why not. [ fluff ] note. i used what my comprehension of girl dinner is but there's a lot of different opinions on what it's supposed to be. wc. 622

THE BULLPEN IS QUIET AS THE CLOCK STRIKES 11:30 PM. Spencer sat in his office, wondering why he ever took Emily up on the offer of becoming Unit Chief.

The pile of unwritten reports seemed never-ending, and the pile of written ones barely growing.

The man sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, casting a glance out his office window to look at the single lit light coming from your desk, where you're also hunched over a profile.

He quickly checks the time on his watch and gets up.

"You should head home, it's late," he stated, leaning against Luke's desk, which was parallel to yours.

You looked up from the report in your hand. "It's okay, I'm almost done anyway—what about you?"

"That doesn't count, I'm unit chief," he replied with a simple shrug of his shoulders.

"I didn't realize unit chiefs weren't human," you replied with a teasing tone.

Spencer just shrugged. "I told JJ I'd write her share of reports so that she could go home and spend some time with Henry and Michael. What's your excuse?"

"Just looking at the pile of unwritten reports on your desk made me tired," you answered. "I didn't want to add to it."

"I don't mind, you know."

"I know, but just because you don't mind doesn't mean I should take advantage of it every time—besides, believe it or not, I had nowhere to be anyway."

You gave him a small smile that made his heart flutter.

He stayed quiet for a minute (by accident) before quickly clearing his throat. "Uhm, have you—have you had dinner?"

"Sort of," you shrugged. "I had girl dinner if that counts."

Spencer frowned as he said something he found himself saying a lot more often with you around, "I—I don't—I don't know what that means."

You used your pen (pink with a small kitten attached to it—probably from Penelope's 'Batcave') to point at the empty plate sitting at the far edge of your desk.

"I had a small container of yogurt, a cup-o-noodles, and some apple slices," you explained.

"That's just a bunch of different snacks," Spencer blinked in confusion.

You shook your head as you corrected him, "Actually, it's a bunch of leftovers I found in the fridge—don't tell Terry, he's very serious about his yogurt."

"Still not sustainable," he countered with a smile, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"It's three out of the five main food groups," you replied with a grin. "Besides, it's not like I eat like this every day. I just didn't want to waste time getting dinner when I wasn't that hungry anyway."

You leaned against your chair, spinning slightly, as you looked at the slight crease between his brows.

"Tell you what, boss," you said, "If my choice of dinner bothers you that much, why don't we go out?"

"Wha—what?" he asked, snapping out of his daze.

You smiled at his flustered expression. "For dinner, obviously. C'mon, my treat, y'know, for being such a great boss."

"I—I—"

"It'll be fun," you insisted. "There's this great Thai place that opened a few streets down from that bar we went to the other day. JJ said you don't know how to use chopsticks, and I would love to see you try."

Spencer shook his head. "I taught myself, actually. I can use them now."

"Great, I guess you can prove it to me," you replied.

"You really think that place is still open right now?"

"Yep, opening hours are from 7 to 2," you answered. "So if we can finish these reports before then, we should be fine."

Spencer sighed before giving you a smile. "I'm going to try."

"Great, it's a date!" you exclaimed as he turned back around to walk to his office.

You were going to give him a heart attack one of these days.

[surielstea]

Caretaker

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Reader is sick & Az being the best bf ever

Warnings: slight suggestiveness, tooth rotting fluff

A/N: Literally wrote this when I was sick asf and high on cough medicine so I hope this makes sense 😭😭

2.2k words

My body tremors as another weak cough racks through me, my throat pulsing at the feeling. Watery eyes form tears, sliding down the bridge of my nose and dripping onto the plush pillow beneath my head.

I stare out the floor to ceiling window, marveling at the way the sidra morphs starlight into rainbow refractions. I sniffle, one of my nostrils completely closed off and making it a challenge to breathe. It was late. I didn't know the exact time but from the moons position in the sky I could guess it was far past midnight.

My mate hadn't come to bed and I debated clambering out of this all too hot bed to go and find him, wrap my arms around his waist and guide him back to our bed. But I can't expose him to whatever virus plagued me, in turn getting him sick, no matter how badly I missed his touch. It was already a risk to share the same bed, I couldn't push it.

Madja stopped by earlier and gave me a tonic to help ward off the cough but there was nothing she could do beyond that. I took the tonic minutes ago, the effects still settling in, I just hoped the cough would cease long enough for me to be able to fall asleep.

It's been days, my mate was convinced I was getting worse. He surveyed me like usual, but his gaze turned soft and pitiful every time a raucous cough came over me. Shadows kept me company, swirling fluidly against my back in a reassuring manner, the chill touch of them making me cool off from my heated state.

There was a soft knock at the door and I didn't have to look to know who it was. I adjusted under the covers, using my strength to sit up and lean against the headboard, teary eyed but making eye contact with the large winged male in the doorway. "Az." My voice was practically a whimper, a feeble excuse at calling for him.

"My love," He drew a long exhale, my sickness seemingly weighing on him as well.

"You can't be in here." I murmur, wiping my tears and wishing it was his hands instead of mine doing the act.

"I miss you." He offers me a soft smile as he tilts his head against the frame of the door, his silhouette from the hallway light made him look like some sort of angel.

"I don't want to get you sick." I shake my head, holding my arm out as if to shield him away but we both knew I held no power at the moment.

"It wouldn't be so bad," He tries to lighten the mood with a shrug. "I'd be off work, we could quarantine together. We'd read and cuddle and I could actually go within a ten feet radius of you." His words were convincing, and the idea has a smile tugging at my lips. That is until a croak of a cough rattles my body and I remember how irritating this illness is. I wouldn't want him to have this, ten foot radius or not.

"It's hard enough to stay away from you, don't tempt me." I sigh, allowing my bones to sink into the large matress.

"Worth a try." He mirrors my smile. "Do you need anything? Tea or soup?" He asks and I twist my lips to the side as I ponder what he could give me that would ever amount to how badly I want him and him alone. "A good book perhaps?" He arches a perfect brow. It pains me how well he knows me.

"A book would be nice." I hum and he pushes from the doorway, excited to accomplish a new task. His gaze lingers on me before he closes the door and his silent footsteps recede down the hall.

I look back out the window while I wait, fiddling with the mating ring around my fourth finger. My cough seemed to have settled, I'll have to tell my brother to increase Madja's salary for her admirable work — or maybe I'd pay her directly myself. As soon as I'm better I will, whenever that might be. I release a long sigh and allow my eyes to shut for a moment, I must've slept for half the day earlier but that didn't stop the rest from weighing at my heavy lids.

Before I dared slip into a sleep the spymaster opened the door with a multitude of items in his hands. I couldn't help but smile. The night courts intimidating Shadowsinger was at my door, with soup and tea and a book, taking care of me. He had one of the world's deadliest knife's at his thigh and he probably used it to cut open my tea bag.

"Az, I'm gonna cry." I warn. My already watery eyes verging on tears as I think about how much he does for me.

"No don't cry." His brows crease as he sits on his side of our bed, placing a bowl of soup down on my nightstand. "I tried to follow your mom's recipe but it won't be as good." He frowns and there's nothing more I want to do then kiss the pout off his perfect face. "And this is hot, so don't drink it for a few minutes." He places a steaming cup of tea beside the soup. "And this," He holds up a worn paper back book. "I went to Nesta and asked her for the best romance novel she could think of and she gave me this so." He places it on my lap. "Hopefully it's as smutty as you hope." He mutters beneath his breath and I flush hot but blamed it on my fever.

"Thank you." My voice was a rasp, he looked to my eyes. Hazel laced with love and admiration, the emotions reflecting on the golds and greens of his irises.

"Get some rest after eating, you have to get your strength up so I can get my sparring buddy back." He placed a hand on my forehead to check my temperature, something on his expression falls when he doesn't notice any difference from the last time he checked my temperature.

"Is Cassian not good enough anymore?" I scoff.

"He's not you." He huffs and an upside down smile spreads over my expression.

"I know you're sick but I really want to kiss you." He admits and just the idea makes me feel warmer inside. I grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him into me, his upper half hovering over me as I plant my lips onto his. I grin against the sensation, it's only been a few days but gods, how did I forget how perfect it felt to have his mouth against mine?

He pulls back first and I debate chasing him back but he pecks my forehead and I settle for it, leaning back onto my headboard yet again. "I'm going to finish up an assignment then I'll come to bed, okay?" He gets up from the bed and my eyes follow.

"Mhm." I nod tiredly.

"If I find you reading that book when I get back I'm taking it away." He warns and I bite my bottom lip mischievously.

"Goodnight lovely." A shadow tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as I watch him make his way to the door.

"Night Az." I muse in reply, already reaching for my bowl of the nostalgic meal.

—

About an hour later I had finished my entire bowl of soup and cup of tea. Both of them reminding me of my mother humming her favorite songs as she sewed her dresses, of Rhys teaching me how to fly before I could even walk, of Cassian brawling with my brother when he first moved in, and of Azriel's warm embrace.

I was curled into a ball with a mage light over my head, flipping through the pages of the romance novel Nesta lent me. It was a fantasy with just the right amount of erotica, the kind that would make any female flush. There were a few times when I'd have to close the book and take a breather before opening it back up, which meant it was perfection.

The door opened with a creak and I slammed the book shut the way a teenage boy might with a nude magazine. Azriel crinkles his brows at me and I look at him guiltlessly. "Evening handsome." I greet and he blinks at me like I'm crazy.

"Why are you being weird?" He utters, coming further into the room and closing the door behind him. I fold my lips inward to keep myself from laughing or possibly exposing that I was reading absolute filth just moments ago.

"Just reading." I shrug innocently and he narrowed his gaze in on me but seemed to let it go when striding over to the armoire to change. I watched him shamelessly as he stripped off his shirt, golden tan skin inked in swirling black. He shuffles through the drawers, giving me a full show of his muscular back and those large wings. My breath hitched as I stare without caution and a small chuckle sounds from him. He knows I'm watching, and at this point I can't find it in myself to care.

"Are you flexing on purpose?" I ask him as he discards his leathers for a pair of lounge pants.

"I'm not flexing love." He confesses and my stomach does backflips. Cords of muscle rippled from his shoulders down to his bulging arms, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a little turned on. And he was just standing there. He turns to look at my tinged cheeks and it only makes me blush more. The eye contact just might kill me. The nonchalance and causality of it made my stomach churn, as if he wasn't standing there in front of me shirtless.

"You're teasing." I set my book on the nightstand and sink down into my pillows.

"How so?" His question is half a laugh because he knows what he's doing.

"I can't have you right now." I whine like some sort of child, pulling the blankets up and over my head so I don't have to look at his chest that seemed to be sculpted by the gods themselves. The bed sinks and I know he's now beside me. I can't help but gravitate towards him only to stop myself because I know cuddling would get him sick.

His strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls my back to his chest.

"No, Az I don't want to get you sick." I protest, pulling away with the weakest strength since the predicament at hand wasn't all too bad.

"I already told you I don't care if I get sick." He brings me in closer and who was I to deny my mate's embrace?

It was nice to lay beside him, nice to have his warmth radiating onto me. I missed him even if it's only been a few days, even if he still sleeps beside me every night. I missed the physicality of it. Azriel's never been one for touch but sometimes I go through phases where if I don't have my hands constantly on him I'd collapse.

So I allowed myself to lean into his chest, matching my breathing to his and intertwining my hand with his scarred one. "I love you." He hums into my shoulder, placing gentle kisses to the crook of my neck and a soft smile spreads across my lips.

"Would you still love me if—" I begin but he doesn't let me finish,

"Yes." His tone is confident and didn't waver for a beat.

"You don't even know what I was going to say." I pout and I feel him shake his head against me.

"As long as you're still you, I love you." He professes and I flip around to look at his golden eyes that the stars themselves were outmatched against.

"I love you too." My voice is a mere whisper but a wide grin takes over his face, revealing his dimples. His smile was so bright I thought for a moment that sun wouldn't rise in fear of rivaling it. "And I'm totally getting you sick." I threaten but he doesn't seem to mind, especially not when I lean forward a few inches in order to kiss that grin.

"Sleep, love." He coerced and pulls me into his chest, his wing draping over me like a blanket, blocking out any seeping light from the moon outside. "I'll be here in the morning." He muses, smoothing a scarred hand over my hair. He continues to play with the strands until I'm drifting off into that touch, his warmth inviting me to sleep.

Azriel was quick to follow, once he noticed my breathing even out. Shadows settle around us as his lids grow heavy and his weight falls into the bed. With me in his arms it was easier for him to sleep, the comfort of knowing I'm safe while in his hold pushed him further into that sweet relief of rest.

[httpscomexe]

Little Red

Summary: You're a little pissed off at one of your partners, but he of course, makes up for it.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Wade x Reader x Logan

Warnings: Mention of sex. That’s it really. Heavy foul language?

Word Count: 2004

(I don't check for grammar, I'm too lazy for that shite)

“They’re in my sights, I’m moving in.” You look down at him from above the dark bridge, gun trained on the enemy as Wade moves in, gun pointed in their direction as they search for both of you, and you grin, you had them cornered and they didn’t even know it.

“Wait…” You mumble, sweeping your gun over the area again. “I thought there was three…”

“Shit-“ Then you hear it, the gun as it shoots you right in the back, your gun powering down for the next 10 seconds.

Fucking laser tag.

“Haha, I got you!” Peter pokes your forehead, pushing your head back playfully before running off for the last five seconds you had left, waiting for your gun to power back up.

Were you winning? Absolutely. Were you having fun? Most definitely. Should you all be out on a mission right now? We don’t talk about that.

There’s arcade music as your gun powers back up, and you immediately go back into ‘Call of Duty mode,’ as you like to call it, treating it as if it was a real mission and you didn’t just get shot in the back.

Turning a corner you see a blue glow, that meant Wade was there, your other partner having left already claiming the game wasn’t fair to them. Just because they’re blind, doesn’t mean it’s impossible.

“One is in the back left corner of the room, I’ll get the two on the opposite bridge.” Wade tells you, crouch running to get to the other side, cause who really gives a fuck about no running rules in laser tag rooms? Once the gun is in your hand and the vest is strapped around your front, the rules no longer apply, it was every man, or woman, for themselves, and you took it pretty damned seriously.

You turn the corner, the end of your gun pointed ahead with only 12 seconds left on the little screen, and so you rush it, moving into a jog to get to the end, searching for Kurt, and finding Peter, shooting him straight in the side while he’s looking up at Wade, satisfied with the 10 second time out, that meant he was done about 7 seconds early, so you pass him, ignoring the stupid look of defeat he gives you. You always start, and end with the first and last shot, and you always win. Today would not be the day you lost. So with your gun at the ready, you spot Kurt, he’s got his gun trained up where Wade is, you can tell by the blue glow, and he was waiting for Wades vest to pop up, but you knew it wasn’t going to, so you get close enough for the gun to catch onto the sensors, and you pull the trigger, but it doesn’t push down, instead of the classic video game gun sound, there’s a power down button as the lights turn on, cancelling out the neon and black lights, a groan leaving your throat.

“Why didn’t you shoot me?” Kurt laughs, standing up and looking at Wade again who was now scaling his way down the bridge over to you, Kurt, Peter, and Jane. Scott had also left the room because he was scared of lasers.

“I thought I had enough time for a takedown!” You smile largely, Wade coming up from behind you and lifting you around the waist, waddling awkwardly as he walks you to the exit.

You get out, looking up at the scoreboard. As usual, flawless accuracy, and the most points, you sigh. Thank you Clint. The winning team? Well, Wade picking you up and twirling you like a princess is enough to answer that question, obviously the blue team won. Meaning 500 tickets would be sent into your wristband, and your team wouldn’t be able to play again for thirty more minutes.

“Who won?” Al comes up behind you smiling, holding the big stuffie that she wants to believe is a teddy bear, no one had the heart to tell her…

“Uh, who do you think won?” Wade wiggles his finger directly in front of Al’s face.

“Judging by your hot breath on my face regardless of the mask, I’m assuming you and little red won?” Little red. You love Wade, but God that nickname was getting to be a bit much.

“You’re just mad you couldn’t see.”

“Bitch I got more shots than you probably.”

“Which would be impressive if your kill to death ratio wasn’t seven to twenty three.”

“Girls, come on, the pizza should be ready, and Logan should be here any minute now.” You grab Wades gloved hand, and you gently guide Althea over to the table where Scott was sitting, a small cup of tickets on the table, and a large box of pizza, only two missing. But you weren’t hungry, you were just excited to see Logan.

“Face it, he’s not coming.” Jane nudges you, grabbing a slice for herself, but you were pretty dedicated to looking towards the door, hoping his grumpy ass would peek in at any minute now. But to no avail.

“After this, we should do the race track.” Wade points at Kurt with the tip of his pizza, the weird bastard was eating it crust first. As if Wade couldn’t get weirder.

“Ze race track?” Kurt lifts the two litre bottle of coke, pouring it into a styrofoam cup with some ice that was half melted as you look down at your watch. Logan should’ve been there by now, he promised he’d be there… Surely he didn’t forget. Right?

“Yea, I mean one of us is bound to beat little red in racing, right?” Wade chuckles, looking at you looking at the doors.

“Right? Little red?” You feel a hand on your shoulder and you throw on a smile. “You can’t be good at racing too.”

“Actually, Tony Stark taught me himself.” Is what you would’ve said, but you’ll pass on that for now, those are stories for another time. “Wade, I will kick all of your asses in racing… I could beat you all with my eyes closed.” He smiles.

“Wanna give that a try?”

“No, I wanna go outside for a moment…” You answer quickly, it sounded almost sarcastic, but by the way Wade's chest heaves up and down in a silent heavy sigh, you know he’s disappointed. You were completely reliant on Logan, but you couldn’t help it. That bitch saved your life. And he wouldn’t even show up to an arcade for you now. “I just need a breather…” Wade nods, letting you go, a pat on the shoulder for comfort.

“Well, we’re gonna go practice rounds with five year olds as a replacement, and maybe we can even get Al driving. I'd love to see what she looks like behind a wheel completely unaware of another car in front of her.” You chuckle dryly, taking a step back.

“I’ll be right there, I promise.” You mumble the promise, stepping out of the large arcade and you go over to your truck, climbing into the bed and then onto the roof, sitting with your legs crossed as you open your phone, first checking Logan’s location, which as usual, was turned off. So you call him.

It rings.

And rings.

And rings.

And guess what?

It fucking rings.

You groan, opening your texts with him, the last one he sent being, “I’ll be there baby, I promise. Tell Wade I love him too.” Which makes you feel a wave of hurt just stroke through your body.

You call the number again for some reason. And it rings, and rings. Then it doesn’t.

“What the fuck?” Did this motherfucker just decline my call? Who the fuck does he think he is? You call back, and this time it only rings once before it’s sent straight back to voicemail. So again, you call, same thing. So you call again and again until you’re sure his voice box would be full of frustrated grumbles and groans from your side. “You motherfucking bitch…” Is what’s in the last voicemail until you open your camera app. Only to discover a fucking wall.

And that was it.

You hop off the roof of your truck, opening the door and starting the engine, letting it roar to life despite the snow as you buckle up quickly and swing out of the parking lot. You were not letting this motherfucker ignore you.

You take a sharp turn, speeding down the roads when you could, the little sticker on the back of your licence plate a warning for police not to pull you over.

“What the fuck could this ancient piece of art be possibly hiding from me?” You start yelling at nothing, wishing Wade was sitting next to you. “You save the fucking world with someone and you think you know a guy… especially one that’s been fucking inside of you.” You’re talking to the snow on your windshield now. You knew you’d get attached when you agreed to being in a relationship with Wade and Logan. You’re latched onto the two unkillable fucks like a leech, and until they see you when you’re out of your prime, you weren’t going anywhere, and they sure as hell weren’t gonna push you away. Especially not on the birthday that they all promised to be at. Which honestly, if it was just you, Wade, and Logan, you would’ve been completely satisfied. But with Logan missing, it just felt like a teenage hangout, Wade counting as a child.

You pull off the road, driving up the gravel quickly to the little cabin the three of you had put together, and you turn off the engine of the truck, throwing yourself out of the drivers seat, jamming the keys into the front door, and you push it slab of wood open, basically slamming it behind you before you freeze at the red coating the hardwood floor.

Rose petals…?

Your eyes squint in confusion. And you take another step inside. Red rose petals lead to the bedroom. Little fake candles lit up in the kitchen and living room. And you could barely hear two voices arguing with each other in the bedroom. Wade and Logan…

Logan…

Wade?

How the fuck-

Kurt…

You groan, taking slow and calculated steps towards the bedroom, you weren’t big on surprises, especially since on the other side of the wall there’s usually just a man with a gun.

But as soon as you step into the bedroom…

“Surprise!” Wade shouts, conferring thrown into the air, and there’s glitter flying at you, making you turn away but it just covers your clothes and the floor, not reaching your eyes, nose, or mouth.

Wade was standing in jeans and a pink polo now, his suit and mask kicked into the corner as if it was expertly hidden, and he even managed to get Logan to wear something else from his usual beater and jeans. He was now just wearing elmo pyjamas and a pink hoodie.

“Happy birthdayyy little red!” Wade sings, clapping his hands and running up to you for a hug, which you of course give him, sending a death glance towards Logan who just laughe, taking a few steps towards you.

“I know, I promised to go to the arcade, but baby I am more than two hundred years old, pac man isn’t exactly my thing…” He grabs your waist, wrapping one arm around you and smiling.

“So you set this up…?” He nods, and you feel Wade come up behind you.

“Figured we’d give you a break and let you relax while we take care of you…”

“It was my idea…” Wade chirps, and Logan growls. “Mostly my idea… the sex part was my idea…” His hands also rest on your waist, smiling against your neck as Logan stares down into your eyes.

“Happy birthday, little red…” He leans down, kissing you, and suddenly the nickname doesn’t seem all that bad.

[supercorpkid]

Would it really kill you if we kissed? Final

Supergirl. Baby Danvers. Kara Danvers x B!D!Reader, Alex Danvers x B!D!Reader, Lena Luthor x Reader, Esmé Danvers.

Word Count: 3360.

Previously on part 2. Part 3 of 3 :)

You touch down on the rooftop of your apartment building, the cool night air sharp against your skin, a reminder that you're back in National City, back to the familiar world you tried so hard to leave behind. Once inside, you let your bag drop to the floor, the sound echoing in the silence, and you almost laugh at the absurdity of it—like you thought coming back here would make any of it feel better. But here you are, alone in your apartment, as if you could somehow outrun everything boiling up inside you.

You slump down onto the edge of your bed, and the silence presses in, thick and suffocating. You want to tear it apart, rip through this emptiness just to feel something else, anything else. But all that’s left is the quiet of the apartment against the loud of your raging mind.

You try to remind yourself why you came back—how you told yourself that being away from your sisters, from Lena, would give you space to breathe. But the air here feels no less heavy, and every time you close your eyes, you’re back on that island, hearing your own voice cut through the night,. Every word you threw at Kara and Alex loops through your mind, over and over, until you can barely tell where the anger ends and the regret begins.

And then, there it is, unbidden: the memory of Lena’s smile, her soft laugh, the way her hand lingered just a fraction too long when she’d touch your arm. You wonder what she’s thinking now—if Kara told her what happened, or if she just thinks you’ve vanished, abandoning this one fragile connection you were terrified to admit even to yourself.

You let out a shaky breath, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. You’ve burned the bridge, and you don’t deserve to look back. But the ache doesn’t ease; it settles deeper, a constant reminder that you’ve pushed away everything and everyone that mattered, leaving you with the raw, hollow ache of being completely alone.

The next day, you fly to Midvale, drawn back to the place that’s always felt like home. J’onn and M’gann assure you they have things covered, their gentle understanding a stark contrast to the turmoil you’re carrying. But here you are, hoping that maybe, while back home, the guilt from burning all those bridges won’t feel as heavy.

The moment you arrive, Eliza’s face lights up, her arms open wide for you. “My little girl,” she says softly, pulling you into the kind of hug you didn’t realize you needed. “Wait—I thought you were all off on an island somewhere? Didn’t you go for a vacation?”

"Hmm, yeah. I—I had to come back early because of this… thing." you reply, the words clumsy on your tongue, but she doesn’t press. 

Instead she scans your face. Eliza might not be your birth mother, but damn does she know you like one. She can see right through you, and you don't know if you're just that easy to read or if the people in your life just know you deeply.

"Well then, come in. Let's do the thing." She guides you inside the house, and you try to distract yourself with old feelings and memories instead of the new ones.

It's later that day when Eliza settles on the couch next to you, watching you with that quiet, gentle patience she's always had. "You know,” she begins softly, “you’ve always had the heart of a hero.”

“I think you’re confusing me with Kara,” you mutter, eyes fixed on the floor, but Eliza shakes her head, smiling.

"No, I'm not. Kara was always about the big thing—saving the world. But you, you've always been about the little things. Feeding the homeless, nursing birds and cats back to health, getting stray dogs into the house…" She sighs and you bite your lips so you don't smile at the memories. "You didn't even use your powers most of the time."

"Well, if I remember correctly, I wasn't allowed to."

"Oh, like that ever stopped the two of you." she chuckles, and despite yourself, you smile at the memories. "When you two landed here, Kara was mad most of the time. Just angry at the world and I got that, she had every reason. But you were always so kind. A sweet little thing ready to help anything that moved. Oh, and let’s not forget the plants,” she adds with a wink.

“Where are you going with this?”

She breathes deep. "That always worried me."

"What? You worried about me?"

“Still do, sweetheart. You had every reason to be mad too. But you never let your feelings show. You keep so much inside, bottled up.” Eliza reaches for your face, her hand soothing on your cheek, and you lean into the touch you so desperately need. “I don’t know what happened, but you’re allowed to be a mess, to explode, to embrace the difficult feelings.”

You lean into her hand, your eyes stinging. “Well, you might be glad to know that I… finally let it out.”

She nods slowly, eyes full of warmth. “And that’s okay. Just don’t hold on to those feelings for too long. Don’t let them chip away at the good, sweet part of you.”

You nod, her words sinking in as you finally let yourself breathe. Maybe it’s time to start processing all of this without the anger clouding it, without the need to keep defending your heart. You’re home now, and maybe here, you can start to sift through everything, piece by piece, until it hurts a little less.

Over the next couple of days, you stay in Midvale, trying to get your shit together while Eliza makes sure you’re giving yourself the space to feel every hurt, every regret you’ve been holding back. Slowly, you reconnect with parts of yourself you’d almost forgotten in all this mess, while Lena's words take root in some deep place inside—a place that cannot simply be brushed off or resolved, only managed.

You're not alone. You have to stop being alone.

When you finally feel ready, you head back to National City, determined to face the aftermath of your choices. The first thing you see when you walk into your apartment is Kara—waiting for you. The sight of her feels like a punch to the gut, all the words you’d left unspoken swirling around in your mind.

"Kara!" You manage to squeak out, your heart racing. "You're—you're back!"

Kara lets out a small sigh, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of your words has landed squarely on her just now. "I can't believe you said all those mean things and just... left us to sit with them."

You look down, biting the inside of your mouth, your heart tightening. "I know. I'm sorry. I—I guess I couldn't handle you being disappointed in me."

Kara’s expression softens, her gaze finding yours. "I would never be disappointed in you," she says quietly, stepping closer until she’s just a breath away. Her voice holds a warmth that reaches past your defenses. "I just don’t understand why you went so long without telling me any of this. Why would you keep it all to yourself?"

"Because I was afraid," you admit, the words coming out barely above a whisper. You clench your hands together, holding back the wave of emotions threatening to spill over. "Afraid to lose you. To lose everyone, actually." Your voice shakes, and you blink hard, forcing down the tears currently burning your eyes. "I can’t lose you, Kara."

Kara reaches out, her hand gentle as it lands on your shoulder. "You’ll never lose me, Y/N." she murmurs, her voice filled with an honesty that you can’t ignore. "But I don’t want you to feel like you’re losing yourself just to be my sister, or some idea of what you think I need you to be."

You breathe in, taking in the truth of her words, letting them settle into the cracks you’ve been trying to ignore. "It’s just... it’s exhausting, Kara. Trying to keep up with you and everything I need to be. And it hurts. All of it."

"I never wanted you to feel like that," she says, her voice filled with regret. "I thought we were doing this together. But now I see, I was so focused on how much having you by my side helped me, how much I needed you, that I didn’t think about how it felt for you."

You meet her eyes, finally allowing yourself to let down some of the defenses you've built up. "I didn’t know you needed me, I just felt like I was just fading into the background. Just the other hero, the one who's supposed to fit into your world. I didn’t want you to feel like I was letting you down."

Kara’s thumb traces gently along your cheekbone, wiping away the last of your tears. “You’ve never let me down, and you were never just another hero.” Her words are like a balm on a wound that’s been aching for too long. “Maybe I got so used to you being my strength that I forgot to let you lean on me too. But you’re not just my little sister or my backup out there. You were never second best to me. You’re everything good that I wish I could be.” Her voice wavers, a crack slipping through her steady tone. “I’m sorry that I haven’t always shown you that. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to be someone you didn’t want to be.”

The raw honesty in her voice, the way her words strip away the last remnants of the defenses you’ve held, reaches deep inside you. You take a shaky breath, nodding as the fear that’s held you silent finally dissolves, leaving only the truth between you.

"I guess things will change a little if you really want me there."

"Oh trust me, knowing you're there with me it's what makes me like supering so much." Kara’s hands cup your face softly, grounding you in this moment. “And Rao, Y/N, I’m not in love with Lena. I never was, and I never will be. And even if I was…” She pauses, her gaze unwavering. “I would always put your happiness above mine.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper, your heart clenching.

“It’s true. You mean everything to me. But also—Lena’s just my best friend. I love her, but not like that, okay?” Kara’s voice is gentle, pleading. “Please, do something about it. You deserve to be happy with her. You’ve held back for so long, and I hate that you felt you had to.”

A small, trembling smile breaks through as the weight of everything you’ve been carrying finally lightens enough for you to throw your arms around your sister, pulling her into a hug that’s been building since this whole thing started.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you and pushed you away,” you whisper, a smile breaking through the last of your tears. “I missed you every day.”

“I missed you too.” Kara’s voice is soft, and you can hear the smile in it—a warmth that melts away the tension in your body, easing the ache you’ve been holding onto. The closeness, her arms around you, feels like the piece you’d been missing all along.

For a moment, you both stay like that, wrapped in the quiet, finally able to be vulnerable without walls, without all the unspoken weight between you. In her arms, with her smile in your ear, the ache doesn’t just ease—it starts to heal.

Kara places a soft kiss on the top of your head, her arms still holding you close. “Now go. Go talk to Lena.”

You pull back slightly, hesitating. “Are you sure? Are we… good?”

Her smile is gentle, warm. “I think we haven’t been this good in months. So yeah, I’m sure. Go to her!”

Your heart swells, and you lean in, pressing a grateful kiss to her cheek. “I love you,” you murmur, the words carrying more weight than ever.

Her smile widens, eyes shining. “I love you, ie.”

With that, you take a steadying breath, feeling stronger than you have in a long time, ready to face whatever comes next. And next is… Alex.

You knock on her door, expecting to be greeted with anger, but instead, you’re met with a soft, “Hey! Come on in. We’re still unpacking!”

“Auntie!” Esmé jumps onto your leg, her face lighting up with joy as you scoop her up and plant a smooch on her cheek, earning a delighted giggle. “Where were you?”

“Oh, I went to visit your grandma.”

Alex glances up from her bag, raising an eyebrow. “Did you really go to see Mom?”

“Yep.” You set Esmé down, and she dashes off, following Kelly's call to help organize her room—basically code for leaving you and Alex alone.

“So I don’t have to go full mom on you?” Alex asks, crossing her arms playfully, and a smile tugs at your lips.

“Guess not.”

“Good.” Alex steps closer and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, her warmth soothing. “Sorry I didn’t keep your secret.”

“No, Alex, you were right. It was eating me alive. I don’t know how I didn’t explode earlier. I’m sorry for making you feel guilty; you are the perfect big sis.” You offer her a soft smile, genuine gratitude flowing between you. “I’m glad I finally got it all out in the open.”

Alex reaches for your arm, her touch reassuring. “Feel better now?”

You nod. “A bit guilty from all the yelling, but yeah. I guess I needed that. It’s like the weight’s been lifted.”

“Have you seen Lena yet?” she asks, her expression turning serious.

“No. Just Kara.”

“Alright then. Thanks for stopping by. Don't leave without saying goodbye to your niece again. And go confess your feelings to Lena, or I swear to God, I’ll tell her myself.”

You narrow your eyes at her, half-serious. “Just because this worked once doesn’t mean it will work again.”

“Hmmm, I’m pretty sure it will.” she says with a smirk, a glimmer of encouragement in her gaze.

You give her balcony door a soft knock, peering in to see Lena by the couch, a drink in hand, looking more tired than before the vacation. Her bag still sits half-unpacked nearby. At the sight of you, she scowls but heads over, unlocking the balcony door and stepping aside for you to come in.

“Hey, Lena,” you offer, voice soft.

“Don’t ‘hey Lena’ me,” she snaps, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “I’m mad at you!” She turns abruptly and heads toward the kitchen, leaving you standing by the door, unsure whether you should follow. “How could you? We were all excited to spend time with you, to finally have you around without your lame ass excuses, but you spent most of the time there hiding behind a six-year-old, and then you just got up and left without a word!”

“Lena, I’m so—”

But she doesn’t let you finish. “Did I not deserve a goodbye? Do I really mean so little to you?”

The hurt in her voice strikes deep, and you take a step closer, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “No! Lena, you mean everything to me! I just… I couldn’t face you. Not with everything I was feeling.”

She finally turns to look at you, her eyes sharp, a blend of anger and pain. “Then tell me. What was so unbearable that you couldn’t talk to me? Because I was there baring my heart open to you. And you —you just left me! You left us! What's the point of a family trip if you're not even there?”

You swallow hard, heart pounding as you force yourself to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. You're right, I never should've left."

"Of course I'm right!" Her hands turn into fists, angry bubbling up and you let her have her outburst, because now you understand how important they are. "I tried everything, Y/N. I begged you for your time. I tried to have you open up to me, but you just kept shutting me off! You've been shutting me off for months now, and God, what did I do to you?” Lena’s voice breaks. “What did I do to deserve it? Why do you hate me now?"

"I don't. Lena, baby, I could never hate you." You force yourself to come closer even though you are terrified of her reaction to what you're about to say. "I actually love you so much, I was scared of the feeling."

"What?"

"I love you, Lena. I've been in love with you since the first time I saw you."

Lena’s expression falters, the anger flickering into surprise, maybe even shock. She stares at you, words failing her as she searches your face, as if trying to decipher if she heard you right, if you’re serious. The silence stretches thin, and for a split second, you’re sure you’ve gone too far, that you’ve finally broken something you can’t fix.

But then, slowly, Lena’s shoulders drop, and a softness replaces the tension in her eyes. “You… you love me?” she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath.

You nod, a shaky exhale leaving your lips as you finally let the words settle into the open. "I love you. I know it might seem impossible after how I acted, and I know I messed up by pushing you away. But, Lena, every single moment, I’ve been in love with you. It was just… easier to hide than to risk losing you over it.”

"God, you're—you're infuriating, Y/N Danvers!" She grabs the collar of your t-shirt with surprising strength, prompting you closer. "If you didn't spend all of your time running and hiding from me, you would see that I'm also in love with you!"

“You are?” you almost stumble back in shock, but she’s holding you so tightly that you barely move. “You really feel the same?”

"Yes, darling.” Her tone is suddenly so sweet and soft, and yet she doesn’t let go of you. “I really do feel the same. Now you already made me wait for too long, so… Would it really kill you if we kissed?"

Your heart races as her words sink in, the weight of her admission filling the air between you. You stare into her eyes, searching for any hint of doubt, but all you see is warmth and a fierce determination that makes you feel like the only person in the world. 

"It might kill me if we don't."

Without a second thought, you close the distance, your lips finding hers in a rush of pent-up emotion. The kiss is electrifying, a fire that you both had been trying to deny for far too long. Lena’s hands release their grip on your collar and tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as if she’s afraid you might vanish again. You melt into her, relishing the sweetness of the moment, the soft taste of her lips awakening every nerve ending in your body.

When you finally pull away, breathless, Lena’s eyes shine with a mix of mischief and sincerity. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Actually, I was terrified.” you joke, and she rolls her eyes at your antics.

“Well then, how about another kiss to make you feel less scared?”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up as you lean in again, savoring the sensation of her against you, the way her lips move with yours, the warmth radiating from her body. In that moment, the past feels like a distant memory, and all that matters is this connection between you both.

As you pull back, breathless and smiling, Lena’s gaze is intense, filled with promise. “You’re not going anywhere this time, right?”

“Never again.” you reply, your heart full of certainty. “I’m right where I wanna be.”

[knightjpg]

landslide | chapter 3

chapter tags: (light) stalking, alcohol/alcohol consumption, reader has a toxic boyfriend

prev | next

Just the one time. 

You won't even notice, Ghost reasons to himself. He'll just be another spectre haunting London; a phantom passing through. Just once. Just to see— 

To soothe. Yes, that's what it is. He's just fulfilling a final duty, a tribute to the woman who made his brother smile like he'd never seen a day of hardship in his life. 

It's not hard to track you down. Years may have gone by, but Ghost has a photo, a name, and a bloodhound's tenacity for sniffing out the details. The anonymous bustle of London loses out against his patience, and really, people are creatures of habit. They seek comfort in the known; in their routine. 

Ghost observes yours. From afar, at first—a shadow lurking in alleyways you give a wide berth to. This is good. This is how it's meant to be. We get dirty, Price's voice echoes in his skull. So the world stays— 

After a week it gets harder to justify. You're alive and well. Have a steady job and a roof over your head. A boyfriend. You're not rude enough to drunk twats calling after you when get off work, but you clutch the closest thing to pepper spray in your hand after dark.  

Smart girl. 

It's time to step away. Simon died; a tombstone doesn't fit into the constraints of your daily life. He's let go before. He can—has to—do it again. 

“Sure, honey. Whatever you say.” 

... 

Just— 

Just the one time. 

Ghost pretends he's doing a stakeout. There's a mission, and there's a target. Simple. Easy. Muscle memory. 

When you walk through the café door, bell jingling against the wood, he's supposed to be casual. Uninterested; aloof—just another guy getting his daily fix. He knows he stands out with his bulk, but it's London: who's going to care? No one's going to think twice about his being here. He just has to keep it cool, go through the motions of reading his book without picking up any of the words. Then, naturally, look up— 

(sure, honey—) 

—and. Fuck. He is so unprepared. 

You keep your hair a little shorter these days. Still no ring on your finger—Simon breathes out slow—but a pendant around your neck has taken up a fixed presence. A gift? It's hard to tell. 

You're a little older, sure, but you're so— 

You're so... 

He ducks his head just in time, ballcap throwing his face into shadow to avoid your curious glance. Caught staring. He curses at himself—is he a fucking professional or what? 

Your name is called out, and you take your order with a grateful thanks. Ghost chances a peek while you're preoccupied. 

Christ. You're so pretty. 

Not just pretty—beautiful. Not like how he remembers, but also exactly how he remembers. The way you shift your weight, the quick gesture of your head when you shake the hair out of your face. Your smile, a flash of teeth. 

It's a perfect fit. A lost puzzle piece slots into place, lines up a bridge between the past with the present— 

“Oh, I'm so glad you're here,” you tell him with a sigh, plopping down heavily in the chair beside him. “If anyone asks me to dance I have a sprained ankle, okay?” 

Simon gives you a solemn nod, eyes sliding from the dancefloor to your figure bending down to untie your shoes. Your hair is done up beautifully for today, and he's overcome with the desire to reach out and touch the nape of your neck. 

He forces it down and watches Tommy and Beth swaying to a slow song, eyes closed. You sigh, flexing your toes. 

“Hurt?” Simon asks. 

“Just tired,” you smile. “Beth's cousin are nice, but every time I sit they—oh, God, there's one of them.” 

You unsuccessfully try to hide behind Simon's broad shoulders. One of your hands presses against his arm for balance, small imprint of warm through his nicest white blouse. 

Simon's heart lurches. He leans into your touch like a lodestone. 

“She's got a sprained ankle, mate,” he tells Beth's cousin before he can open his mouth. “Gotta rest.” 

The boy swallows a thinly veiled tsk when Simon speaks up, then tries again. “I'm sorry, love, was I too rough on you? Do you want me to get you ice? Or a drink? Or—” 

“Got it handled here,” Simon cuts in curtly.  

Simon likes Beth. Likes her family fine, too—he and Tommy grew up on a low bar, but still he can see they're alright folk. And Simon would never start shit on their wedding day. He's got better manners than that. 

But people get caught up in weddings, spurred on by booze and a festive mood. They grow loose-lipped, handsy, jovial. 

Simon's more than happy to put cousin what'shisname in his place should he forget it. 

The cousin lingers for a moment, but eventually tucks his tail between his legs and sets off to the drinks bar. Simon eyes his retreat warily. 

“Oh,” you sigh, sagging against Simon's back for a moment before pulling yourself upright. “Thanks so much. You're my hero.” 

—a wildflower in his barren desertscape. 

 

He'd wondered if it would hurt any more than it does every other day of his life. A living, breathing reminder of everything that he's lost; Ghost is not immune to pain. Even corpses bleed. 

He finds it doesn't matter. Whatever he might have felt is drowned out by something else, a lighthouse smacking him in the face with the same blinding light he chased when he crawled out of the dirt— 

Familiar. Quickly followed by, mine. Something that earns its intimacy simply by being known; hauntingly so, but he wants it. Wants to have it, wants to allow himself this smidge of nostalgia. 

(You're my hero.) 

Self-denial pushed to the extreme rebounds off the wall and crashes against him like a wave. Saltwater mixes with old dusty sediment, rips out dead old roots as it pulls him down, a landslide— 

And it's trouble. Ghost knows it. But— 

He's always had an appetite for the thrill of danger, careful, might get hurt;  

and he figures one more scar won't make much of a difference. 

----------

The alcohol tastes bitter on your tongue. You swirl the liquid in your glass and wish you could jump into the miniature whirlpool; to simply let the disappointment and the hurt and the insecurity all be washed away.  

Your phone beep...beep...beeps until: 

“The person you are attempting to call cannot be reached at this time. To leave a message, press—” 

You shove it back in your pocket with an angry twist of your mouth. That's four times for this month alone. How many was it last month? And the one before that? 

Maybe you should stop counting. 

The alcohol does the opposite from soothing your bad mood. You know your limits and steer clear of that line; over the years you've found it's never worth the headache or the nausea the next day.  

Another drink and things will start getting fuzzier, which means it's time to call a friend or a cab and leave. Be smart. Be careful. 

Your fingers dig into the glass. You stay seated on your stool.  

Maybe you should've accepted when a bloke offered you a drink. Sorry, you'd smiled. Waiting for my boyfriend. 

Fuck your boyfriend. 

The spite sours as soon as it wells up, leaving guilt in its wake. What's wrong with you? You'd never cheat on Dave. You've been the subject of that kind of betrayal too often; know the pain too well. You won't be that kind of person. 

You down the last of your drink, just about to get up when a large man wearing a dark hoodie seats himself on the stool next to you. 

You pause. It's not busy; there's plenty of empty stools to choose from. Coincidence or a sign of interest? Would it be rude to leave immediately after he's sat down?  

Would it be worse to wait for him to say something instead? 

Hesitation lies heavily in your stomach, alcohol and loneliness making you feel unsure, slow. The indecision keeps your eyes down on your empty glass while you fiddle with a coaster and tell yourself to stop being so self-absorbed. It doesn't mean anything; it's not about you. People can come to the bar just for a— 

“Drink?” the stranger asks you. 

Your eyes flit up. 

He's wearing a ballcap—go Manchester—which, under the dim lights of the bar, obscures most of his features. Still, you catch the end tail of a nasty scar running down his cheek. 

This is where trepidation should come in. A sixth sense of self-preservation telling you in red letters do not touch. Do not go here. 

Do not trespass. 

But: 

something about him is familiar.  

Maybe that's why you're less guarded. Less careful. You're lonely, abandoned, stood up; one last drink won't hurt. Will it? Because, really— 

It's just a drink, you tell yourself. If he tries anything you'll make a scene.  

God knows you've got plenty of pent-up anger to let loose. 

“Sure, okay,” you say, and the man waves the bartender over. You watch him pour the drink, and offer the stranger a half-hearted smile as you raise your glass in cheers. 

“You alone?” 

“I have a boyfriend,” you say, trying for casual nonchalance and ending up somewhere close to abandoned cat on the roadside. There's even a tremor at the end of your voice to go with it. 

And you thought tonight wouldn't get any more pathetic. 

The man tilts his head. “He gonna come pick y’up?” 

You tap your phone's screen out of habit: no notifications. You shake your head. The bar suddenly feels too loud, too sharp; too real. You realise that until now you'd still clung to the idea that Dave's caller ID would pop up any moment, that any second the next face walking into the bar would be his. 

It's not going to happen. 

You know it's not. But all by yourself you could still believe—lure yourself into the protective delusion that Dave wouldn't stand you up again. Not after missing your anniversary dinner, surely. 

Your throat closes against a sob clawing its way up. Christ. You try to wrestle it down, cover your quivering lips with a hand. You're drunk. Drunk and acting like an idiot— 

Your stranger does a little hum. “He a twat?” 

The delivery is so dry you hiccup a strange laugh-sob. “Some—sometimes. Maybe it's my fault. I don't know what I—” You stop yourself and breathe. Cling to the shred of sobriety left in you. “Sorry. You don't care about any of this.” 

The bloke shifts on his stool, turning his torso more towards you and leaning one of his big forearms on the tacky bar as he does. The end of a tattoo sleeve peeks out from his hoodie, abstract lines old and sun-faded.  

“Could listen.” 

You blink, and— 

there's your apartment, your front door, the jingle of keys. Body moving on autopilot, dropping bag and shoes and slumping onto your bed. 

Your mind is slow, hazy; muddled by fatigue and cocktails. How'd you get home again? 

A flash of obnoxious radio music. The dangle of car freshener against a dark windshield. 

That's right. Had one drink too much, and called— 

You frown against your sheets. Called... 

A low voice in your ear, telling you to mind your feet. Not Dave—bigger than Dave. One strong arm keeping you from wobbling, and the other opening the door to a cab. Smelled nice. Safe. A friend? 

“I saw Simon's boots in the hall. Did he stop by?” 

“He did. Came to save me from Tommy's hovering.” 

You finish pouring Beth's smoothie—thick, fruity, calorie-dense—and hand it to her. She sighs in relief, carefully shifting in her seat so she doesn't jostle Joseph while she's breastfeeding. 

“Thanks so much. God,” and she takes a big sip, “that's good. Everyone tells you breastfeeding makes you hungry, but oh my god, it makes you hungry.” 

You laugh a little, patting her leg. “You're doing great, mumma.” 

“I hope so.” Beth looks down at Joseph, stroking his blond wispy hairs. “We're thinking about moving. Not for a while, but—maybe next year.” Beth gestures to the little flat apartment. “Tommy's been doing really well at work, and we want Joseph to be able to run around in a yard.” 

As if summoned, the front door opens and closes. Boots thump against the doormat; the coathanger rattles with the weight of thick padded jackets. 

“I think that's a lovely idea,” you smile. “Just let me know and I'll help.” 

Beth's face softens. “Thank you.” 

She looks exhausted, but extraordinarily happy at the same time. You're so happy for her—so happy for both of them—yet can't help the occasional tug of envy. You're not sure if you want children, not yet, but the look of devotion in Tommy's eyes when he crosses the room to kiss Beth and Joseph's cheeks is hard not to want for yourself. 

“Alright?” 

You lift your eyes to Simon. He looks freshly windswept from their walk, hair mussed and cheeks ruddy. For some reason it makes you feel— 

You duck your head, nodding. “Yeah.”  

You suddenly feel a little shy, out of place. To give yourself something to do you collect empty cups to put away—and stumble on one of Joseph's toys lying around. 

Simon's arm shoots out to steady you, and in your attempt to balance yourself you bump headfirst into his chest. You quickly remove yourself, cheeks burning. 

“Thanks...” 

In between dreaming and waking, the memory of a voice murmurs in your ear;  

“Steady now.” 

----------

Ghost watches the cab drive away with a pensive expression. 

You're not happy. 

He watched you for over an hour, his pretty lonely girl sipping fruity cocktails at the bar. Waiting for the ungrateful cunt to bother showing up. 

Because your boyfriend is an ungrateful cunt, going by the way you nearly cried into his arms. Simon hadn't been privy to the details, lived off second-hand stories from Tommy and sometimes Beth, and there's too many gaps in his memories to be sure. 

But he knows— 

I'm tired of the shitty boyfriends. 

Beth's playful smile loops in his head. Ghost feels sorry for you, and yet— 

some sick part of him is pleased.  

Relieved. 

You need him. Haven't learned yet to winnow the wheat from the chaff; can't see that your precious time and effort is wasted on undeserving shits. 

Tonight was supposed to be the last time; a final goodbye. Closure for the dead. That last push he needed to stop himself from reaching out and saying it's me— 

Simon. 

But this changes things. Ghost turns his back on the night, and disappears into the shadows. 

It's time to make some phone calls. 

[anonymityisfunwriter]

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Paring: Steve Rogers x Reader Summary: The rains that end your perfect, shining days whisper things in his ear that you'll never be entrusted with. But your boy only breaks his favorite toy.

a.n. - day 3!!! i hope you guys are enjoying! anyway, how many tortured poets inspired fics do you guys think i have in the drafts? hint, too many.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Anon's Birthday Celebration

"Then maybe you're better off without me!"

No, you're not.

You're not.

You're not.

You fly up from the edge of your bed, doing everything to get him to see reason, to get him to see you, for once, "I never said that!"

"You didn't have to!" he booms.

Your hand reaches out to grip his bicep, but he wrenches his arm away.

And standing in your highest heels, in your best dress just for him, you chase after him, "I just want you to talk to me! I want you to not push me away!"

He snatches his tux jacket up, shrugging it over his shoulders, "I don't want to talk!"

"You don't want to talk or you don't want to talk to me?"

"Both!" The words are so casually cruel. He says it without pause, without remorse. He doesn't even notice the pained look that his words leave on your face like all the wind has left your lungs.

Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing as she hears the argument echo through the walls of the Compound. "Oh, here we go again..."

The moment he whips open your door, you know what this night will look like.

You'll be his perfect doll, his trophy for the night. He'll smile, hold your hand, and won't speak more than a word to you the whole night.

He'll leave you wondering what went wrong, what you did wrong, what sent him spiraling into the abyss all over again.

And he'll wake up tomorrow like nothing ever went wrong.

"Steve!" You reach for his hand, but he drops your hand and keeps walking without so much as a second glance. "Steve!"

"Steve!"

He doesn't turn back around.

As you watch him walk downstairs, you feel a warm hand rest on your shoulder. "You okay?"

You nod, trying to keep the tears welling in your eyes from falling down your cheeks. "He's just - in one of his moods, I guess."

"A mood?" Nat quirks an eyebrow. "That's the excuse?"

You suck in a breath. It's a shitty excuse. And it only sound worse with every time that you have to use it.

You sound like a broken record, a broken toy. You practically beg Natasha to pull the string for the latest excuse. "You know how he gets."

He only runs because he loves you...

"It's ironic that he always does this right before you've got to put on your best face in public."

You let out a long, deep sigh, "Nat..."

She raises her hands in surrender, "I'm just saying. You look amazing tonight, but tears don't go with the dress."

The urge to defend him bubbles within you.

It doesn't matter how much he breaks you, it's you he chooses to break.

You're his favorite toy.

He only runs because he loves you...

After a few moments to make sure the rivulets don't descend on your plastic smile, you go after him.

You find him seated in the car, sitting in the backseat like he knew you would give in and eventually follow after him.

It's all painfully silent. He stares out the car window, drowning in a darkness that you'll never get to see. You sit with your hands in your lap, the smooth silk of your dress crumpling under your fingers.

You hated nights like these. These galas were never fun for you. Still, you don't remember it being quite this hard.

As you step out in front of the flashing lights, Steve grips your waist, just enough to lay claim to you.

Because, in the end, you're still his favorite toy.

You roll back your shoulders. Your cherry lips pulled into a smile that you can only hope looks more genuine than it feels.

You can barely recall a time when your shining smile didn't feel so plastic. You were an Avenger. You were strong, independent. You stood tall and held your own. You were beloved in your own right - or at least, you used to be. Now, you were nothing more than the girlfriend to Captain America. Nothing more than his favorite toy.

You stand beside him in the line of reporters.

He refers to you often. He barely spares you a glance.

He presses loving kisses to the top of your head. He doesn't offer a single comforting word.

You've spent all night watching and waiting for the worst of his tortured heart to hit that you've barely noticed the night passing you by.

The reporter before you politely points the microphone at you. She smiles, tilting her head, "So what's it like?"

You blink at her, realizing that you've hardly been paying attention. You fix your distant smile with a chuckle, "What's what like?"

"What it like being the woman behind the man? Being the woman behind America's Golden Boy?"

"Oh..."

What is it like?

What's it like being queen of sandcastles that he destroys?

What it's like being his favorite toy?

The one he holds so tenderly, caresses with the most gentle of touches, only to be discarded and broken as he pleases?

You crack a smile, pretending to be coy. He hates it when you talk about him, about your relationship. He says he likes his privacy. He likes for it to be seen, not heard. But you think he means you.

You find yourself pulling the string, reminding yourself that he loves you. He only runs because he loves you.

You rest your hand on his chest, looking at him with all the adoration in the world, "I mean, he's - he's Captain America. What else it there to say? Like you said, he's America's Golden Boy."

You swear you can feel something break inside you. He's finally done it. His favorite toy is finally all smashed up.

You feel broken.

His favorite toy.

His broken toy.

He doesn't stay for the party, never does. It's a blur as he guides you back to the car with a hand on your hip.

The silence fills the car once again.

It's all silent as he calls the rain to end your days of wild once more. Back at the Compound. In your room. Watching as he stands before you. He means what he says, he doesn't want to talk, and he most certainly doesn't want to talk to you.

As you sit on the bed, watching as he methodically takes off each piece of his tux, he offers his first voluntary word of the night, "That camera guy was hitting on you."

A pang of joy flashes through your broken heart.

After all, your boy only breaks his favorite toy. You are his favorite toy. You always will be.

"I didn't notice. I was too busy worrying about you."

He rolls his eyes, "I told you to leave it alone."

And out of all the hearts he was offered, it was your tortured heart he stole. And one thing about Steve Rogers, he plays for keeps.

Your eyes snap up at him, examining those blue eyes that you feel in love with. "Why won't you ever just let me in?"

He refuses to hold your gaze, too afraid of what you might see. If he sees forever in your eyes, he'll smash it up.

The voices in his head are so much louder than you. And worst of all, you have no idea how to fight them off. The rains that end your perfect, shining days whisper things in his ear that he'll never trust you with.

You know that. And in some ways, you've always known that. It's a give and take, a push and pull. And as long as he keep pushing, keeps taking, you'll pull him as close as you can, you'll hold him through any storm. What other choice did you have?

For the second time tonight, you pull the string yourself. He only runs because he loves you.

"You're better off anyway," he whispers.

But you're not.

You're not.

You're not...

Steve Rogers Masterlist Anon's Birthday Celebration Inspired by Taylor Swift Series

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan

[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

Ride The Lightning ⚡︎ Lars Ulrich (18+)

Blowing a handful of stray hairs out of your face as you finally make it to the top of the seemingly never-ending stairs, your already depleting good mood completely plummets as soon as you take in the smug look on the drummer's face waiting for you. Your feet falter as soon as he fully comes into view, and your eyes immediately pick up on the fact that he's alone for once. Lars pushes himself up into a fully standing position, his hands in his back pockets to try and conserve heat in the concerningly cold complex's hallway. Thundered light bolts through and graciously gifts the two of you temporary brightness every few seconds, the sun now long gone as grey hues of spattered clouds take over the sky above the state of California.

"Got caught up in the rain on the way over here, didn't you?" He cockily asks, his accent licking at the words and making them sound more thickened and condensed. "Let me in, would you? Your brother's holding a guitar for us, and we need it for the rehearsal set we have tonight." His carefree and dismissive tone gives off no signs of gratitude to the fact that you had just cancelled your plans to run over here and let him in as soon as you got the phone call from your older brother.

You rapidly blink in disbelief as the Dane sarcastically steps aside for you, his left hand impatiently ushering you forward as you drip and create a small puddle in the outdated carpet underneath you. Lips pursing as you reach into your soaked pocket for your duplicated set of keys to the apartment, you narrow your eyes before flicking your head towards the overconfident musician to your right. An indignant sound strangles its way out of his throat as rainwater flies and lands on his flushed cheeks and shocked expression, and you successfully unlock the front door with a hidden and triumphant smile on your lips.

"Doing your daily running around for the rest of the band?" You ask in an innocent voice, instinctively walking toward the bathroom as you hear the front door being kicked closed and shut, the urge to dry off stronger than the want to continue to banter. "No, I'm simply doing a favor. You know, a thing you do for friends and for people who actually like and care about you. Ever heard of the term?" The taunting and condescending tone in his voice makes you falter for a moment, before you grasp onto a towel and firmly shut the cupboard with an audible and resounding click.

"Fuck this." You mumble, before stalking your way back out to the living room area and going up close to the musician, not stopping until your feet are only an inch apart. Lars pauses mid-faux performance with the new and sleek white electric guitar in his hands, his earlier cocky expression turning cautious as he looks at the neutral and resentful one on yours. Before he can make another asinine comment or tease you any further, your arm straightens out with a sudden strike. The rough cotton comes in contact with his pale and freckled skin and leaves a few inches of rugburn in its wake. The drummer lets out a shocked cry, before placing the guitar down to reach out and wrap his hand around your closest wrist. Lars lets out a grunt as you roughly shove at him to let you go, before he finds momentum and places you flush against the wall behind the two of you.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He exclaims, his pupils widened and a hazy mess, while you wince from the pressure engulfing your damp and reddening skin. "You're what's wrong, you asshole," you seethe, your head pushing itself off of the wall to peer forward into his green eyes, the button of your nose brushing the bridge of his. "I've done nothing but be nice to you and your band for the last year, while you've bought and exchanged instruments and tech gear with my brother, and you've been nothing less than a dick to me this entire time. So, what the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Upset a girl can play the drums better than you can, while she's taller than you too?"

Lars clicks his tongue and lets out a humorless laugh, his hand retreating away from your wrist as he takes a step back and looks away from you. You move forward, the adrenaline and frustration in you pivoting you to follow him over to the drum set near the windows facing the front of the building. "Answer me." You urge, your eyes taking in his tense form as he untangles and wraps his fingers in the skin tape your brother left behind for him. Lars glances up at you with a halfhearted glare, before letting out a slow breath and snapping the container of the adhesive shut.

"It's not my fault you don't know how to take a joke," he starts, raising an eyebrow at you as you let out a dumbfounded and disbelieving scoff. "You just seem overly sensitive, and I get bored sometimes, is all." Your eyes zero in on him, and you tilt your head downward to watch him as he sits on the chair near his main instrument. His left hand trembles as he undoes the headband keeping his drumsticks together, and you come to a sudden realization as you observe his unsteadiness. He wasn't jealous or hateful or conniving. He was nervous.

You bite your lip as a thought runs through your mind, and a small hum of amusement exits you before you can help it. Lars' head snaps up at the sound. "What?"

"You said James was going to be coming over tomorrow night to finalize the payment, right?" The drummer nods at you before twisting the wooden sticks in between his taped-up fingers, the absentminded movements almost capturing the entirety of your attention. "I'm just wondering why you came over today, is all. Since James is the one I get along with best, and I'm sure it's the same for him too." Satisfaction warms your gut as you watch his jaw click and strain in place, the muscle contraction making a small chill run itself down your cloth-clad spine.

"So, you want him here instead of me, is what you're saying." He states, his fingers halting all movement and the chair underneath him screeching in protest as he pushes the chair back with full-body force. You wince at the sound and go to open your mouth to reassure him, but falter as he throws down the drumsticks and reaches over the set to grasp ahold at your still wet and dripping t-shirt.

"What," you start to ask, before gasping out loud as he tugs you forward, your stomach pressing up against a cymbal for purchase and your feet almost lifting from the ground. You fluster as he leans up and glares into your eyes, his forehead brushing yours from the closeness and causing your heart rate to accelerate. "Do you ever think that maybe, just maybe, I enjoy getting that reaction out of you, because I'm the only one who can? Today's one of the only morning's we have off before tour preparation, and I'm stuck in this overcrowded apartment, with a girl so dense she can't even tell when someone is trying to flirt with her and get her fucking attention."

You gape as he looks at you earnestly, before setting his face and letting you go. You reach out to encircle your hand around his wrist instead and go to plead as you watch his eyes dim in what seems to be defeat. "Can you please continue? Because I've gone from months of thinking you can't stand being in the same room as me, to you suddenly admitting to actively reaching out on your own to be here with me today. My head is spinning." Lars' expression softens and he twists his wrist to carefully guide you around the drum set, and onto the chair he carelessly shoved away to the side earlier. You let out a trembling breath as he squats down to level with you, the muscles in his thighs and biceps straining from the confining movement.

"When I first met you, I thought you were beautiful, and the guys caught on to my attraction to you immediately. The only way I could get them off of my back was to join in on the teasing the other guys would give you. I don't know when the teasing turned into us insulting each other and getting under each other's skin, but it wasn't my intention to ever hurt your feelings or get you as upset as I did today," he murmurs, his eyes averting yours to look down and caress at the slight tears in the knees of your pants. "I feel like a major dick right now, and I'm sorry."

You furrow your brows as you take in his downtrodden expression, before reaching out to tilt his chin up and make him look at you. "Before you turned into the biggest asshole I've ever met, I thought you were attractive too. So much that my brother started getting on my ass and told me to make a move. But before I could, your insults started to dig in far too deep and I started to come after you and rebut even harder. I know I've hurt and belittled you at times as well, and for that I'm truly sorry." Your free hand's fingers absentmindedly wrap themselves in the middle of his long hair and gently massage his scalp while you apologize, the satisfaction warming your gut earlier coming back full force as you watch his eyes almost slip to a close and his pink lips begin to open in barely hidden bliss.

"You like that?" You whisper out in the cool apartment air, and a soft gasp expels itself from your chest as the fingertips caressing your kneecaps slide up to your thigh and grip the flesh. Lars looks into your eyes and nods, a weighted sigh pillowing out of him as your fingers lightly twist in his mane and tug. Lightning strikes out and nearly makes contact with the windows nearest to the two of you, the bolts of light making the flush on the man in front of you even more apparent during the brief highlight.

"You said you wanted my attention earlier, right?" You ask, your voice barely above a slight tremor of an exhale and nearly incoherent. Lars nods against the grip in his hair and on his chin, and his eyes widen as you tug him forward, his hands once gripping your thighs now grasping onto your waist to steady himself as you bring him forward.

"Come and get it, then." You shutter out, barely able to finish your sentence before his grip turns bruising and his lips ascend on yours.

⚡︎

Warm puffs of heated breath make their way down your bare and goosebump-ridden chest as you lean against the drum set behind you, your lips spread open wide in a permanent gape as the Dane sucks and licks marks into your skin. The tip of a tongue breaches out between kiss chapped lips to tease the top of your left, swollen nipple, and your hips pulse up against the firm and unyielding hands holding you down in place.

The teasing tongue wraps itself around your areola and gently tugs with a light gnarr of teeth, and you cry out at the oversensitivity, your hands reaching down to lightly tap on the shoulders of the man currently trying to taste every inch and centimeter of you.

Lars lifts his head from your chest and removes his mouth from you with a reverberating pop, you blushing as the sound echoes around the room and him sporting a wolfish grin at your reaction. The warm and persistent press of his erection on your leg makes the slick in between your thighs nearly double in amount as you acknowledge the weight of it, and you whine out as your clothed sex pulsates against the soaked material of your uncomfortable bottom clothing. Before you could beg him to move on, he sends you a gentle smile and wetly makes his way down to your navel, your stomach involuntarily sucking in as his appendage makes its way into your belly button.

You let out a light laugh at the ticklish sensation, and you feel him smile against your heating up flesh, the hands holding you down slowly rubbing circles in the bruising skin of your hips. You close your eyes and lick moisture back to your reddened pout as you feel him slide even further down and make it to the beginning of your jeans within a few heat filled seconds.

"Where else do you want me to taste you, angel?" Lars asks you, his face holding on to an innocent expression as one of his hands trail down from your side and its thumb digs into your clothed clit. The musician looks at you with faux confusion as you cry out, his tongue coming to peek out in barely hidden hunger as your chest heaves and your arms give out underneath you. Wooden drumsticks falter and tumble down to the floor, the sound going unnoticed as Lars helps you lift your hips from the chair beneath you and tugs your pants and underwear down in one haste filled yank. You immediately shy away as your overheated and weeping pussy is exposed to the awe looking man kneeling in between your legs, and you freeze in place as he lets out a tsking sound.

"I asked you a question, princess. Where else do you want me to taste you?" You let out an audible gasp as he situates himself and grazes his fingertips everywhere except for where you truly needed them.

"Want your tongue to taste my pussy, want your mouth on me again," you start shakily, letting out a moan as you watch his green eyes darken at your next words. "On your pussy." Lars temporarily closes his eyes and twitches against your leg from your words, and you murmur out his name as his hand travels to cup your sex and tease at it with his calloused palm. "So, if this is my pussy, then I don't have to wait for you to tell me where you want me to taste you, do I?" He asks you, waiting for your nod of consent and agreement, before thumbing your clit and bringing the digit up to his swollen lips. Lars watches as your breath visibly wanes at the sight of him eating your slick so casually, and he bites back a satisfied and predatory smile as he brings his spit slick thumb back down to rub it against your pulsating folds.

"So, I can eat this pussy, tease this pussy," he muses out slowly, watching you writhe in front of him with impatience and desperation. "Use this pussy whenever I'd like?" You nod with fervor and let out a cry of relief as he slowly teases two fingers inside of your tight heat, the relief almost palpable and bringing tears to your eyes. Lars lets out a coo as he watches your fluttery lids begin to dampen with emotion, and he bends down to lightly press a kiss to your trembling thigh, before trailing his head and mouth up to where it truly wants and craves to be.

You melt and slug against the drum set behind you as the first rough swipe of his tongue meets with your enflamed clit, and your nails dig into his shoulders as his free hand pulls you down even further on the chair. Digits curve themselves in the wet heat inside of you, and your legs seize and tense against either side of his sides as he brushes against your sponge-like spot with finesse. Lars moans against your weeping and gushing sex as he feels your walls clench and constrict around his fingers, and his eyes nearly flutter shut as your taste and slick make their way into his inviting and overactive mouth and down his jaw.

The heat in your groin intensifies and a seeming coil snaps as you reach your first orgasm that night, a sob wrenching its way out of your sore and exhausted lungs as your cum accumulates and strings against his fingers and now sopping wet wrist. Lars' eyes open back up fully as he watches you gasp for air above him, and satisfaction fills him as he watches you involuntarily twitch from his ministrations. His cock impatiently twitches in the confines of his fitted jeans as he waits for you to come down from your oversensitive high, his fingers carefully removing themselves from inside of you and coming up to draw figure 8's in your shivering skin.

"You still with me?" He asks you, you letting out a stilted exhale and weakly nodding back a response, unable to catch your bearing enough to verbally respond back. A feeling of disappointment floods through you once you are finally able to lift your head and see that he's still erect in between your legs, his cockhead visibly pulsing against the material of his pants and staining the zipper of them with precum. Lars lets out a soft sound of confusion as your unsteady hands tug him up into a standing position, his hips bucking into the cupping palm of your hand as you rub against his hard dick.

You let out a hush as he begins to protest your movements as you shakily lift yourself off of the drum set from behind you and the ruined chair, and carefully make your way down onto your still trembling knees. "I just want a taste," you dazedly reassure him, your tongue still feeling heavy and slow from your orgasm just a few minutes ago. "Once I can fully process a single thought that isn't only about me wanting to suck your dick, I want you to fuck me against the drum set."

Lars' mouth gapes open and his eyelids flutter at the relief of you releasing his dick from the rough and damp confinement of his jeans, and a small stutter of a sound punches its way out from his chest as the rain pelts itself down on the windowpane outside. Your mouth begins to water once his length bounces itself against his groin once it's freed, and you waste no time before sliding your tongue out of your mouth and wrapping it around his flushed, red tip.

The Dane lets out a sharp gasp as you immediately slide down to the hilt once your tongue collects the copious amount of his pre-ejaculate, and his fingers run down to make purchase in your wet locks as you hungrily swallow around him.

"Holy shit." He shakily whispers out, the muscles in his stomach taut and tightening as you mouth fuck him for all he's worth, your tongue sliding out as you deepthroat him and moan at the feeling of the tip of his dick meeting with the back of your throat.

You lightly tap against his hips with one of your spit-soaked palms and let out a positive sounding hum, your eyes fluttering shut and eyelashes collecting stray and heavy tears once he begins to fuck your mouth and throat. Calloused fingers tear their way through the strands of your hair as his hips make audible contact with your chin, going so far into your throat that the tip of your tongue makes contact with his tightening and raising ballsack.

Lars has to force himself to slowly slide out of the tight heat of your mouth and cup the base of his dick before he orgasms, the tip of his cock still weeping out a few drops of pre-release as he takes in your disheveled look and state. Thick tear stains run themselves down your cheeks and bubbled spit collects itself in a messy spread along your chin, and you lightly rub at the hood of your sex as your arousal drips down onto the wooden floorboards beneath the two of you.

"God, you're such a fucking dream." Lars grunts out, his fingers slowly removing themselves from your hair and bending down to wrap his shaky palms around the slick sides of your waist. You let out a pleased sound as you're lifted up with ease and planted back onto your feet, the sound soon turning into a gasp as you're steadily maneuvered and bent over the drum set, the chair you released on earlier getting shoved to the side once again.

The drummer lets out a hum of approval as he watches you obediently spread your legs wide and fight your inner shyness, the slick running down your thighs enticing him even further as he nearly mounts himself over you. "What'd you say about me fucking you against my drum set earlier, again?" He casually asks you, you beginning to feel small in this position as he towers over you, a blush fighting its way up to your messy cheeks as you hear and feel him slicking himself up with your release and wetness.

You can only whisper and beg out a please, before his length slides into you with an experienced and hearty thrust, his tip hitting your g-spot like it was made for you and this moment entirely. Lightning strikes out again and paints itself white against the two of you, as you sob and hold onto a cymbal as you're pounding into from behind.

Slick and disgustingly messy sounds create a cacophony in the small apartment, combined with your strangled and gasped out moans of pleasure, and you let out a silent scream as the man behind you slides a hand down your front and pinches at your clit, his mouth only releasing itself from your hickey-ridden shoulder to playfully muse out.

"Knew you'd sound better screaming for me, rather than at me." You're unable to rebut back as your second orgasm takes over and your release soaks the front of his still thrusting thighs. A hand delicately wraps itself around your throat as he continues to fuck up into you with reckless abandon. You let out silent gasps of pleasure and overstimulation as he uses you against his set, the partial deprivation of air making you feel deliciously lightheaded. Lars moans out against your ruined skin and pulses himself inside of you as he fills you to the brim, the sensitive skin of the tops of your thighs beginning to sting from his once seemingly never-ending thrusts.

Thick globs of cum run their way down your weakened legs as he slowly removes himself from inside of you and gently turns you around, your body relaxing in his embrace as he brings you forward and into a spit coated kiss.

"You doing alright? I was a little bit rough with you." Lars' eyes run their way down your exhausted and beat figure, and you nod against him with the rest of the energy you've got left in you, before slumping forward and closing your eyes.

"How about we both get in the shower, and then come back out and clean up this mess?" You tiredly open your eyes and let out a shocked and weak bout of laughter as you look down at the floor beneath you. A thick consistency of your combined releases drip themselves down into a puddle on the floor from the drum set and the chair is tumbled over and lying down on its side, the curtain closest to it now on the floor and tangled around a leg of it. If you look close enough, you can still see the shine of your cum on the sitting area of the chair. You quickly blush and glance away as your feet are removed from the ground once again as he lifts you up. And as you tilt your head back and allow yourself to be carried away and toward the bathroom you stormed out of earlier, you let a small smile grace your face as lightning resounds and vibrates the floorboards beneath the two of you.

You were glad he made his way over to your brother's apartment on his own, and eventually to you, and into you.

[itskattkm]

Day & Night | Part II

Mabel (finestkind) x G!P reader

Warnings: violence, bruises, mentions of blood, junkies, bad translation :)

A/N: I think it’s even going to be more parts now :) hope you guys enjoy as always

Part 1, Part 3

I sighed and looked beside me to see that the space was empty "sure" I said disappointed and took a deep breath before I exhaled. My hands found their places on my face when I tried to cover it.

It was to good to be true. I should have know better... or maybe if I'm being honest with myself... I knew the truth. Why should Mabel even choose my place for "help" it was so obvious but i was totally blind.

I rubbed slight my eyes and looked to my open bedroom door. I felt suddenly so lost again. Somehow like I was at a wrong place at the wrong time. But mostly I felt unwanted.

So why did Mabel do what she did? Why out of sudden? And why did she leave? Well I could have a good answer to the last question but why did she even sleep with me then? I didn't understand.

I pulled the blanket over my shoulders and tried to get a clear head.

At some point around 11:00 in the morning I woke up again. This time I left my bed and took a long shower. After the shower, I turned on the TV so that I didn't have to drown in this silence in my apartment.

I ate some cereal and went to the bar around 1:00 p.m. to work. The day felt slow. Outside it was cold and slightly foggy. My shift was over in the evening. I decided to go to the pier like almost every day.

Now I entered the middle of the bridge and ran up the scaffolding "hi Maria" I said kindly to the slightly older lady who had her shift today.

"Hi y/n" come in... Today it's very fresh.

So I went into the cabin and sat down at the other end of the room. Like that I could observe the sea and was able do watch it through the window, stay dry and warmed up.

I took out my laptop and watched one of the online videos of my studies. In between, my gaze fell on my cell phone. I hoped to get a message from Mabel, but in vain. I sighed loudly as I turned my phone over slightly pissed.

Maria turned around in her wheelchair and looked at y/n worried "is everything okay y/n? Today it seems to be one of the less good days again?"

I nodded silently without looking at her. But since it was getting dark very slowly outside, I could see her reflection in the window. And then I suddenly saw it. A light in the distance. It flashed twice. I had to smile and took one of the larger flashlights when I left the cabin and ran out to the site.

I tried to show the boys that I was here. After not even three flashlight signals, the horn of the finestkind echoed back.

"The boys are back..." a part of me was happy because this meant that there would be fun evenings again, but another part in me was worried. What about Charlie?

After twenty minutes I went down and greeted the boys. Laughing, they called me

"Y/N Lighthouse!" I shook my head and said "you are so stupid guys" after they had all solid land under their feet, I greeted everyone with a hug.

"This time you've been away for a really long time, why?" I asked curiously.

Charlie began to explain "we have found a new route that allows us to make stops at other yards... that's why we will be on the road longer than usual in the future" I nodded "that sounds hard".

Tom chuckled "it's business"

I left the harbor with the boys. Following Tom and Costa a little further back with Charlie.

"Have you seen Mabel?" He asked me calmly. My heart began to race when I tried to answer him "yes... last time yesterday" Charlie nodded and seemed to be deep in his thoughts "was she okay?" He asked.

In my steps, I stopped and looked crookedly at him "what's wrong Charlie?" He turned around and scratched the back of his head "we sort of broke up"

I looked at him with wide eyes and almost a open mouth. On the one hand I was shocked, on the other hand I already thought about it and accordingly did not feel so bad after sleeping with her.

"What do you mean by sort of?" I asked seriously. Charlie smiled nervously "well... we now have this new strategy while fishing and that means that we will be even less at home... and I didn't want to do that to Mabel"

I shook my head

"Charlie... I understand your thoughts behind it but that's Mabel... she... she is-" I began, almost starting praise Mabel and Charlie interrupted me smiling "I know..."

I sighed "how did she handle it?" I asked worried.

Charlie raised his shoulders "I'm not sure... she was a little angry... but understood the reason" I nodded.

A thousand questions went through my head. Did she love him? Was she sad? Was she angry? What went through her head? How did she feel?

"Maybe I should have a look at her," said Charlie. My stomach turned around. But I doubted that Mabel would say anything about us, because as it seemed to me, she didn't seem to be interested in what happened between us.

"Maybe" I repeated quietly and looked at him and the other boys.

Days passed and everyday life quickly became my usual old routine. Online lectures whenever I could.

Later shifts in the bar and hanging out at the harbor. I still haven't had a message from Mabel. I had also given up to be honest. Charlie seemed to have visited her. He doesn't told me anything and honestly I didn't ask either.

I didn't want to know what was between them because I wouldn't have a chance anyway.

"Y/N! Another round of beer for us please!" Called the boys at the other end of the bar.

I wiped the bar and grabbed three bottles of beer. I ran over to them and put them at the table "please slow down today for once," I said laughing. "I don't feel like cleaning behind you guys" I shouted to them as I ran back to the counter "boss I'll get new beer in the back" I said and went to the storage room.

I didn't know what was happening while I was gone, within a few minutes I heard the rattling of glass, falling furniture and something that sounded like a brawl.

I immediately reached for the baseball bat I had near my locker and ran back to the bar.

Within seconds I saw what and who the problem was "you fucking asshole!" I shouted angrily and jumped over the counter. Skeemo was back with his junkie friends and had beaten Tom, Charlie and Costa up. Skeemo was just choking Charlie. I ran towards him from behind and hit him on the back of the head "fuck you!" I shouted angrily.

Skeemo let go of Charlie, who was now coughing on the floor. He cleverly looked at me when he scanned the back of his head and saw blood on his fingers "you fucking bitch" Skeemo hissed and then I saw red.

I didn't remember what happened afterwards. I only knew that I was questioned by the police after a team of paramedics checked my wounds.

If there was a secret about me, it was my uncontrollable anger and aggression. It was hard to get me to this point... but if you succeeded, it was hard to stop me. After I saw Skeemo, it came over me. Not only was he the reason for Mabel's injuries at the back then, but he had also whistled the boys....

After all the interrogation and a small visit to the hospital, I wanted nothing more than to go home.

My face hurted. My fists were beaten bloody and my ribs were slightly broken. I held back the pain. Something I knew too well. Something that made me feel alive in dark times.

"Thank you Y/N... what you did today... you should not be underestimated," Tom said when he took me off at home.

I looked at him with hidden pain "Charlie... Costa?"

Tom smiled slightly "they will recover" I nodded and slowly opened the door of his car. In the end, I had tried to mess with each of the junkies. They beat me... but they had it much... much worse then me. The ambulance was not called for me or the boys. It was called for Skeemo and his new gang.

I hoped they would die. But the possibility that they would survive and later die of drugs was higher.

"Take care of yourself Y/N" Tom called after me before I disappeared into my apartment.

I slightly held my left side where my ribs were damaged and moved towards my couch in slow painful steps. I wouldn't make it to bed. I bit firmly on my teeth when I tried to sit down and suppressed screams of pain. I held my breath and leaned back carefully. I closed my eyes and a tear escaped me.

The bruises on my face hurted. Probably everything had already turned purple. My hands were shaking. They were full of bruises and dried blood.

When it knocked on my door, I cursed the person behind it. I breathed heavily with pain when I supported myself with a trembling arm and walked so slowly to the door that the person began to knock again more and more impatiently.

I leaned against the wall exhausted and held my side as I opened the door only one gap to be careful.

"Y/N... hey- oh my God what happened?!" The next moment Mabel stood in front of me and held my face very carefully in her hands with a worried look. I squeezed my eyes in pain and breathed heavily as the pressure of my ribs pressed on my lungs.

"I'll help you..." she said calmly and gave me the feeling of security. Carefully she put my right arm around her shoulder and took me to my bedroom.

She held my hand tightly as I slowly sat down, I could only weakly suppress a painful moan. Mabel's dark eyes scanned my face and every other injury on my body. It seemed like she was falling from the clouds.

"I heard about a brawl in the bar but..." she began and stopped when I closed my eyes exhausted and lowered my head.

She went to her knees in front of me while resting her hands on my knees when she looked up to me worried.

She carefully touched my chin and lifted it. I opened my eyes and was now forced to look at her pitch black ones.

"What happened?" She whispered so quietly that I got goose bumps. I swallowed hard "can you... help me?" I whispered and looked slightly to the side. I was too weak to say more, but Mabel seemed to understand what I needed.

She helped me to lie down.

As soon as I lay on my back, Mabel covered me a little with my blanket, turned off the lights in my apartment and only turned on the small night light on my bedside table.

She disappeared from my room and came back with a glass of water and a pill. She put both on my bedside table and took off her jacket before she sat down with me on the bed "drink that... it helps against the pain" she said gently.

I breathed heavily and took the pill from her hand, I swallowed it down with water and tried to find some recovery.

Next I heard the sound of a plastic bag "fuck..." I hissed when I felt the burning pain on my ankles. Mabel had previously moistened a swab with alcohol to disinfect my bruised and blood-dried ankles.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered worriedly and continued cautiously.

Why was she here? And why was she so caring? Was Mabel interested in something for me?

My heart began to beat faster again at this thought.

"Skeet was suddenly in the bar with his junkies... and it escalated" I explained weakly. Mabel nodded silently, the way she looked at me... she hadn't looked at me since the day we met like that. This time I knew... that she really looked at me and perceived me.

"As I know you... I assume that Skeet and the others look worse..." said Mabel with a grin that brought out her dimples.

A smile escaped me. Even if it hurt, it still felt good.

I put my head aside and watched Mabel carefully take care of my hands. Her touches felt so gentle and good... I almost felt safe.

"Feels like it was yesterday when you beat up the junkie because he wanted more drugs from me" Mabel began with a smile.

I had to laugh a little and closed my eyes when it hurt. "... yes I remember... that day I was looking for trouble... and this guy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time" Mabel grinned wider when she remembered.

At that time, as always, Mabel had to make the deals for her mother. It was New Years Eve and most people went crazy anyway. But when Mabel had just made a handover, the junkie wanted more from her and started going crazy. He grabbed her by the arms and yelled at her, high from the drugs he had taken before. Before the guy could get closer to her y/n came around and had boxed the guy so hard that he was immediately unconscious. That evening she was slightly drunk and was looking for a reason to hit someone. Luckily for her, she found Mabel and the junkie.

"You okay? Looked like you were in trouble" y/n had said at the time. Mabel looked impressed at the unconscious junkie.

Y/n grinned wide and held out her hand "I am y/n" Mabel was fascinated by her at the time. How could anyone be so harmless and at the same time too unpredictable. She laughed and shook her hand "Mabel... you always walk around and punch people like that?"

Y/n had a sparkle in her eyes that caught Mabel's attention right away "nope... but i was looking for some trouble today so..."

Mabel smirked seductive and said "then it's your luck... I'm always surrounded by trouble"

That's how they met. In the chaos of violence. A miracle.

"Where you ghosting me?" asked Mabel with a dirty grin as she held my hand in hers.

I looked at her seriously "you're joking, aren't you? I would rather say that you ghosted me..." I said seriously.

Even if she was here now and we shared a moment of the past... I was still disappointed and even a little angry.

Mabel continued to smile.

"Sorry..." she whispered and lay down next to me on the bed the next moment.

She watched my reactions and when I didn't show any, she supported herself against her arm and carefully stroked the bruises on my left cheek.

"You should rest now..." she whispered and gently stroked with her fingertips my jaw as she lay down closer to me.

I began to feel calmer, relaxed and more secure. The pain was not as strong as a few minutes before, probably the painkillers from Mabel had helped. Slowly she put her hand around my neck and began to scratch me.

I felt goose bumps all over my body and my eyelids slowly felt heavy. My head was lying to the right side and I slowly fell into an exhausted sleep.

After Y/N fell asleep, Mabel watched her calm face. The bruises had turned purple. What did you see in me? Mabel asked herself as she continued to caress her neck. She never thought to see y/n in such a state. It hurt... it really did badly and showed her what a bad friend she was. Y/n had always cared. She didn't cared what people said about others... she always made an impression on herself. She was never reproachful... she was always friendly, showed interest in others and was always there. But who was there for her? Who listened to her thoughts and worries? Who was interested in her? Who cared for her?

"Im right by your side" I whispered as I continued to stroke her neck and carefully gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. Y/n had fallen asleep deeply and Mabel didn’t had planned to leave y/n side. She wouldn’t wake up alone this time.

[dtrghost]

closeness and proximity part.5

pairing: ghost x f!reader

synopsis: callsign is sunshine, because you're anything but. team 141 thought ghost was bad? at least they could crack a smile out of the guy from time to time, you? you were stone faced, all day, every day. until one day you're not, not with a certain someone anyway.

warnings: inaccurate military language and sequences, mega angst, allusions to mental illness (reader has sociopathic tendencies) you get the gist. violence, torture (reoccurring themes i know), angry ghost cause yes. FLUFF. YAY. Sexual situation to gain advantage over the enemy.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT:

word count: 3.7k

Simon sat with his team, his eyes trained on the seat she'd sat in when she was there last. It had been a week. A long, gruesome, week with her still out there. He was tormented each night by nightmares, some where he followed through and killed her that night, others where he had saved her, only to wake up to the harsh reality that he didn't.

He failed. She was gone, and she may never come back because of him. They cleared all the bases that came up on their radar, and for once he was glad she was such an asset to HQ. They had all available teams looking for her, Price being at the forefront of the search.

"Let's call it a night then." Soap sighed, everyone nodding in agreement, except for him as they expected. His head shot up, his eyes lighting in a rage that they'd been subjected to since he woke up after his rescue.

"Like hell we're calling it a night." He growled at him. The anger made Gaz and Johnny shrink back, Price squeezing the bridge of his nose.

"Ghost, please-"

"We've got nothing! No leads! No updates!" His hand pounded on the table with each mention of what they lacked.

"We're sittin' at this table like a bunch of lazy fuckers while she's out there-"

"And what would you have us do?" Price interrupted. The room grew tense as two angry, powerful men glared at each other.

"You don't think I wanna find her too? You don't think I'm doin' everything I can? We're tired, and we need to regroup. Nothing good's coming out of us like this." He knew he was right, he hated that he was right. He felt useless, and it pissed him off. He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"He's not lightening up until we find her."

"Can't blame him. Get to bed the lot of you." And with that, Price left too, feeling a similar anger to his officer when he slept.

~.~

Cold water pushed her weight back, shocking her awake as the liquid shot up her nostrils and soaking her completely. They used a powerful hose to wake her up after her beating her unconscious the night before, thankfully avoiding her face.

"Morning Sunshine, piss baby callsign yes?" His accent was thick, laughs going around the room as the water turned off. She forced her eyes open, taking in her situation once more. Not the best, not the worst. Her legs were kept free of restraints, but they just barely hit the ground with her hands chained to the ceiling. She spit the water in her mouth out, chuckling lightly as she nodded her head towards them.

"You'd know a thing or two about piss babies wouldn't you." His fist connected with her stomach, but with a puff of her cheeks, no reaction came. He tried again, and yet, nothing, no wince, her feet cementing into the ground so not even a swing either.

"Right~" She drawled out, a bit breathless as she took a look around the room as they stared back in mild shock from the lack of reaction.

"After a while they all feel the same. Let me out and I'll show you how to punch sweetheart." This was her play. Intimidation, sensuality, it worked on the weaker ones, and when she caught the gaze of some of them, she knew she got em. The plan formulated in her mind, and for now she'd tune it out. It was a messy technique, as while she was gone she'd have no idea what happens to her body, so deep into her mind that she couldn't feel anything. It was a severe form of dissociation, but it worked.

"They don't want us touching your face. But they didn't say anything about the rest of you." He pulled out two high power shock sticks, and she knew she was in for it. The pain was excruciating. She could taste the blood in her mouth as she bit down her lip to keep her screams in. It took her back, the feeling of her first round of ECT.

Soon he moved to just beating her, pounding on her body as if she were a punching bag.

Her eyes went blank for a minute, focusing on a spot on the floor as she slowly slipped away, all the pain in her body disappearing.

~.~

"Mrs. L/N. I asked you a question." The lawyer spoke, stepping closer to where she sat on the stand, the courtroom watching this young girl getting berated consistently for the last 10 minutes. Her siblings watched as she was nearing tears from behind the plaintiff, having already been on the stand testifying against their own parents.

"I-uh.. can you say that again?" It was the job of a lawyer to break the client, to force the truth, or whatever would benefit the person they were meant to defend, but this was a child, someone just trying to get by with her life.

"What happened 10 years ago, to your recollection." He repeated calmly. She refused to look at her parents, because if she did she'd lose her words, her ability to speak. So she stared at her siblings, her older sister giving her a smile in attempt to calm her down. But nothing that came out of her in the next few moments would keep that smile on her sister's face, in fact it wiped it from the face of the planet. The flood of words that vomited out her mouth left everyone floored.

Her mother screamed at her from the defendant's side, throwing the first thing she got her hands on at her daughter. The jury watched as a notepad hit her in the head, and all she could do was cry and cover her face. She accused her of lying, screaming profanities to anyone who listened as she was dragged out of the room. Her father on the other hand, he broke down.

That's not fair. She thought. Why is he crying? He was the reason why she was here, why she was confessing her shame, her disgust with herself in front of a room full of people. Why did he have the right to cry? She wanted to tell him to stop. To stop trying to steal their moments of recognition. But the words got lost somewhere, and she stayed quiet as she was escorted off the stand.

When she opened the door to leave, she noticed Simon leaning against the wall in front of her. She looked down at what she was wearing, and suddenly she was an adult again, wearing a ripped black tank top and dirty cargo pants.

"Time to wake up love. Things to do, noses to break."

"It's not looking too good for me Simon. Feels like my body's gonna give out before I get my chance." He shook his head.

"Told you about a week ago that there's not a thing you can't do. I intend to make sure you stick to that. Now get your arse out there and give em hell." She sighed, giving him one last look until she shut her eyes, ripping herself out of her trance.

Her eyes opened and she came to, the room empty with a single guard sitting at a small table next to her.

"Hey." She called to him, blinking the haze out her eyes. He looked up to her, his face lighting up in a way that made her internally grimace. She saw the desire in his face, and she fed into it. He made his way to her with a sultry walk. He was on the shorter side of the spectrum and she looked down at him.

"Hey honey." He hummed, his finger trailing down her cheek for a moment. She ran her eyes down his body, faking seductiveness to get a glimpse on what he had on him. A pistol, standard issue belt with some stuff she could use on it.

Bingo, keys.

"They call you a siren from where I'm from." His accent wasn't as thick, and his words were easily understood. She leaned forward, him following as she leaned towards his ear.

"Let me down and I'll show you what kind of noises I can make." As cliche as it was, it worked. His eyes darkened, his hand twitching over his keys as he felt her lips graze over his ears. Slowly, he flicked through the set he had, and with little work done on her behalf, one unlocked, his hand quick to grasp her wrist. Before he could get the other one, the door slammed open, revealing her original capturer.

"Hey!" He shouted. In a flash her head slammed on his, her foot kicking his gun from his holster, watching it fly from his waist towards her hand, and with a stretch she caught it. She swung it in her hand, putting a bullet in his head before turning it the idiot who let her out.

"Siren's a new one. Maybe that'll be my next callsign." And with that he dropped dead. She had to be quick, her arm now released allowed for one foot to have a farther reach, the keys hanging on her toe as she carefully tossed it up to her hand, the gun now being held in her mouth. She tried each key carefully, knowing if she moved too fast she'd fumble and risk dropping it with the uneven weight now causing her to sway. Her weight was on one arm, and it quickly got sore, so when she dropped to the floor she felt heavy and wobbly.

The pain she pushed off had began coming back to her, and before she knew it she was crouching to the floor, her head between her knees as she gasped for air.

She crawled to the door, having to use all her body weight and strength to push it closed due to it's steel material. She locked herself inside as heavy thuds raced to the room at the sound of the shots fired. The room was designed to lock from the inside so nobody from the other side could pick it, but it quickly became a detriment as they had to use what they had to try and open it another way. She unclipped the vest from one of the men, quickly putting it on herself. It was large on her, the chest piece hanging lower than she'd like, but there was no helping it.

Better than nothing.

She searched the bodies, finding two grenades, she could work with that. She unlocked it, rushing back to the corner on the left of the door, and when it burst open she pulled the pin, watching the soldiers jump back in terror at the explosive in their face. she rushed to the door, shutting it again and listening to the boom from a safer distance. She tuned in to her environment for any more steps, and when she heard none she pried it open again. She picked up someone's rifle that had been flung to the side.

No doubt people heard the explosion, and she was in for it when they came down. So she stocked. She went to any body that was still intact and took whatever gear they had, shoving it anywhere she had room. She was likely underground, noticing the long staircase up as she took in her surroundings.

With the heavy thud of boots, she inhaled and prepared.

Life or death.

~.~

Simon had stayed up that night, finding himself unable to sleep without being haunted by her face. He found himself jolting awake with a shout of her name, and he decided that if she couldn't sleep, and likely she couldn't, he wouldn't either. It wasn't until Soap burst through his door, out of breath that he moved an inch from his position.

He shot up from his cot, looking at him with hope.

"We've got something. Someone in a base near the border of Verdansk reported a need for reinforcements. Bodies dropping like flies from a single prisoner they had held there." It had to be her. HQ had hacked into radio frequencies since she had disappeared, hence the amount of missions TF teams were being sent on recently. The team scurried into the aircraft waiting for them outside, Simon anxious and itching to get there as fast as he could.

When they landed he was the first one out, hearing gunshots from inside the facility. Reinforcements had shown up the same time, and before they could rush in they were shot down, directing the attention to them rather than the person currently fighting for her life.

She twisted an arm, ducking under the arm of another and sweeping him off his feet with her leg, dragging the other down and slamming his head into the floor. She shot the next two before flipping a man attempting to grab her over her back and onto the floor.

She heard footsteps, the barrel of her gun being the first thing to face the front door.

"Hey! It's just me! It's Ghost." He called out to her, immediately putting his hands up in surrender as they finished clearing the ground outside. He noticed her deep, uneven breaths, her eyes mistrusting as she kept her gun up and pointing at him.

"Ghost-" His hand silenced his teammate for a moment, slowly taking steps to her. He watched her eyes flicker as his hand gently rested at the top of her rifle, pushing it down at an unhurried pace, not wanting to trigger her with quick movements.

"It's just me.. lovie." She could've cried. His hands went to her shoulders as she dropped her gun off to the side.

"You're safe now. Nothin' to worry about." She felt herself relax, all of her adrenaline fading as she soon collapsed. Whatever he was saying to her was left unheard, her ears muting as her eyes closed from the sheer exhaustion and overexertion of her body.

"We need to get her to medical now." Price told him, Simon one step ahead as he held her in his arms and rushed out the door.

She didn't wake up for 3 days, and for a full 72 hours he had not left her side. He ate his meals in her room, slept in the uncomfortable hospital chair, and when he used the bathroom he waited until he couldn't hold it anymore and rushed that too, his hands still wet from the sink when he sat down. He was gone for a maximum 20 minutes for the entire day, and only that long because Price volunteered to sit with her as he showered, wearing the clothes he brought from him.

One night it was pouring rain, the drops slamming against the window with lightning brightening up the room every so often and powerful thunder that shook the building. She awoke to it, finally, her eyes crusty and her throat dry as a bone. Her memory failed her for a moment, shooting up in her bed in a panic that jolted Simon awake. He immediately rushed to soothe her with a gentle call of her name, dragging her attention to him as his hand cupped her chin.

"You're safe. You're in a hospital, recovering. Deep breaths alright? Like mine." He placed her hand on his chest, guiding her through mimicking his breathing until she was calm. He gave her a moment to take in her surrounds, her voice hoarse and raspy.

"How long was I out?" He handed her a cup of water, watching her gulp it down hastily.

"Fuckin' hell. Slow down you're making a bloody mess on yourself." He muttered, watching the water flow down the sides of her mouth and down her neck as she exhaled after finishing.

"You try getting the living shit beat and shocked out of you for a week straight. Had to seduce my way out. Dirty fuckers." She scowled at the thought, placing the cup on the table next to him.

"Did anyone..." He trailed off, too afraid to finish the sentence.

"No. No they didn't." Relief had lifted off his chest, his body relaxing for a moment before looking back up at her. His guilt never left him, and he wanted nothing more than to apologize.

"I-"

"I'll call HQ in the morning for the team switch-" "No!" He should've felt embarrassed by how quickly he cut her off. She looked at him confused. Is that not what he wanted?

"I'm sorry, for what I said, what I did... It wasn't right. The last thing I want is you off my team." She didn't understand it. He saw what she was, a monster. She killed and tortured how she pleased. "Why the sudden change of heart? Don't tell me you're getting soft on me." She teased, making him roll his eyes.

"It's not your fault. You need help... Y/N. Which is why with some fighting with those bloody wankers at HQ you're on leave with mandatory therapy sessions." Her eyes widened, and for once, she had something to be happy about. She could make her therapy jokes become real. Her breathed hitched for a beat, a sudden realization dawning on her.

Someone fought for her.

She felt the familiar pad of his thumb stroke under her eye, and it wasn't until she felt a wetness sinking into her mask that she realized she was shedding tears again.

"Comere lovie." Lovie. She liked that one, she was certain about that. He pulled her into a hug. For the first time in years, someone embraced her. She felt herself crack, every guarded aspect of her mind shattered in that moment as sobs flooded through her body involuntarily. Just like he promised himself, Simon was there to help her through it. His arms around her were tight, as if she could share the weight of the world she carried on her shoulders and he'd help her lift it until she could do it on her own.

"I need to get a nurse to check on you." He muttered in her ear, feeling her shiver at the feeling of his breath dusting over her skin. She only tightened her grip.

"Can we just, stay like this for a while. Please." Her voice was small, quiet, and he couldn't help but agree, maintaining a constant vice grip around her. She felt protected, and she needed that. So she clung to him as if her life depended on it, and he held her for as long as she needed him to. He felt her weight eventually slump against him, her arms dropping as her breath evened out to the same one he'd memorized from her 3-day slumber.

He laid her back, pulling the sheets up to make sure she didn't get cold before finding a nurse. They checked her vitals, blood pressure, wounds, everything.

"She's healing well. Everything looks good. We'll keep her one more night for observation and then we can discuss taking her home." He nodded, and she awkwardly smiled and walked out, shutting the door behind her. Simon sat back down in his seat, feeling more relaxed than he had before.

Healing well, looks good. Those words repeated in his head over and over. He leaned forward, pushing his mask up to the bridge of his nose as he hovered over her for a minute. The serene look on her face, even in the dark was enough to make his heart stutter. The way her hair, now in it's natural state, free from a balaclava, looked as it sat around her head like flowers in a meadow. She still wore a mask that covered the lower half of her face, but this was the most he'd get to see her for a while, so he took what he could get.

He pressed a slow kiss on her forehead, embracing the moment for what it was before he pulled his mask back down and released the breath he was holding, letting himself fall back asleep to the gentle exhales he heard from her.

~.~

Next thing she knew, she was holding a duffle bag with all her work stuff in it, Team 141 standing with her as she stood in her front door. They escorted her home, filling her in on her therapy sessions, when they start, how participation and progress were necessary for her to be allowed back in the field after her leave was up. Price had been assigned to live with her for the time being to make sure she was adjusting well and attending her sessions. She had half a year, which was enough, and it was mandatory to continue during work.

She dropped her bag off to the side behind the door before looking back at her teammates, Price flopping on her couch with a sigh as his eyes closed.

"Well, bye." She went to shut the door, only for Simon's foot to stop it from shutting.

"Fuckin' hell. No thanks for the people who saved your life?" Soap scoffed, watching her roll her eyes as she reopened the door.

"Thank you my saviors. What would I have ever done without you." Her voices was monotone, clearly bored and wanting to lay down for a bit.

"Alright then. Just don't get yourself killed in the next 6 months before we come back yeah." Simon grumbled, rolling his eyes too.

"You're not visiting?" She questioned, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"We wanna see a full transformation. Adds to the extra shock factor." Gaz smiled, watching her sigh before she painfully opened her arms for a hug.

"One for the road I guess." The embrace was horribly awkward and lasted a solid 2 seconds before she pulled herself back with a clear grimace.

"Do we get to see what's under the mask?" Soap pressed.

"Do you ever not ask questions? No? Then there's your answer." She quickly shut him down, watching him deflate in minor amusement before turning to Simon. He grunted as her arms wrapped around his middle, frozen in place for a minute.

"Hug me back dickhead." She muttered. His arms wrapped around her with a huff, though they both knew he didn't mind.

"Why the hell does he get a special hug." Soap whined, watching her pull away.

"Because he doesn't piss me off. Now bye." She shut the door in their face, kicking off her shoes and throwing a sock at Price's head. He groaned and turned, looking at her through bleary, groggy eyes.

"When's my first session again?"

The last part will be next!! I hope you enjoyed this one, more ghost fluff!! LOVIEEEEEE. My all time favorite. She's getting somewhere, finally getting some much needed help. Again I hope you guys enjoyed this part and the next one will be out fairly soon because I'm impulsive!! See ya next time!

@thaprilks @bowtruckleninja @almightywdm

[oneatlatime]

The Painted Lady

Air Bison, Sea Bison, and now Sludge Bison.

I have no idea how Aang is swimming through a solid. Must be an Avatar thing.

I bet there would be time for more potty breaks if Sokka hadn't spent 100+ hours of their time drawing up the schedule. A very Sokka thing to do though.

Because hills often have horns. Great disguise.

You can't tell me that a factory that close to their town wouldn't also become the town's primary employer.

That is a lot of town.

I sense a return of preachy Katara. This episode is going to suck.

I'm with Sokka on this one. Buy fish, move on, defeat Firelord, return to help with environmental remediation if time permits.

I like Doc. And Shu. Nice people.

Writers: if you have to make one of your characters an entirely different person to set up the episode's lesson of the week, maybe the lesson doesn't fit your chosen characters. This is the Warriors of Kyoshi all over again. Funny how that's happened to Sokka twice.

We are all Sokka.

And where exactly did this mysterious painted lady get the food to deliver to the village, if the reason the Gaang stopped in the village in the first place was because they needed food?

Let the record show: I lost the last of my patience with this episode 8 minutes and 9 seconds in.

Waterbending healing has never thrown off that much light before. Even the spirit oasis water wasn't that bright.

Also where is the water she's healing with? Usually she has a big bubble of it.

Impersonating a religious figure. That won't end badly.

"Well I hope she returns every night otherwise this place would go right back to the way it was." YES!!!!!! THAT'S THE POINT!!!!!

What was Katara's plan? Forget about the eclipse, forget about fighting the Fire Lord, we're going to stay here for the rest of our lives so that the painted lady can put in a nightly appearance. THIS IS WHY SOKKA DOES THE PLANNING.

Spirit magic is more doing the worm than doing the wave. Good to know.

Bold of a kids' show to advocate for ecoterrorism.

Aang's like "Hey spirit lady! Here's my resume! Here's my connections on LinkedIn!" Why did Katara think that faking being a spirit within two feet of the bridge to the spirit world would be consequence free? Actually that presupposes that Katara thought. Which she didn't. Sokka does her thinking.

"I don't get to meet many spirits. But the ones I do meet, not very attractive." I am OFFENDED on Yue's behalf. And Sokka's. I guess Aang doesn't like Water Tribe girls after all.

"I guess I just became her." No. That's an excuse and a deflection. I don't want to hear it.

What was I saying about Aang and Katara enabling each others' bad tendencies?

Sokka is horribly out of character this episode, but Aang is as well. In what universe would Aang be so unbothered by Appa being sick, and then so unbothered by the reveal that Katara had been faking Appa being sick? Like, this is Appa. He nearly skinned a bunch of sandbenders over the guy. And he finds out Katara's been messing with him and calls her 'great' and 'a secret hero.'

So this factory, despite being operational 24/7, has no night staff, not even a night guard? Because if it does (which it absolutely does - automation is a problem for factories in our world, not the ATLA one), Katara and Aang just killed A LOT of people.

And so she follows up one short term solution with another short term solution, which causes a third problem she will no doubt solve with a short term solution. You think there won't be reprisals for the only obvious suspects to this industrial sabotage? You think they won't rebuild the factory?

Sokka was kidding when he said that the Spirit Lady had better blow up the factory, but not in the way Katara thought he was kidding. Katara thought he wasn't being serious. But Sokka was serious, in that blowing up the factory is as short term a solution as appearing every night. He thought the joke - exchanging one bad solution for another - was obvious.

Somebody's enjoying himself a little too much.

Unfortunately, serving as Exhibit A is the most Toph has had to do all episode.

It is cathartic to see someone finally call Katara on her nonsense. But I'll bet everything I own that the narrative is going to side with her anyway.

Welp. I won that bet.

"You need me." Correct! Katara unsupervised needs bailing out after five minutes. "And I will never turn my back on you." A much more realistic goal than never turning your back on anyone who needs you, and also Sokka summarised in one sentence. Impressive for an episode where they had to Flanderise him beyond recognition to make Katara somehow the good guy.

Oh for fuck's sake. It's not about having a heart. This late in the game it's pure damage control.

So that's where the Painted Lady's food came from. I guess Fire Nation factories count as pirates?

I like the jetskis. The seem far more stable than actual jetskis.

It never occurred to Katara to obscure the evidence even a little bit? At least rub some dirt on the emblem. Look at me assuming Katara has thoughts.

Actual reprisals for once. About time.

This kid is annoying.

Toph gets to be a haunted house sound effects machine.

That's awfully waterbendery for a Fire Nation spirit.

I don't buy for a minute that anyone would be able to stay perfectly upright and balanced after an air blast from below without extensive trampoline training.

This won't work. His superiors, or the next shift change, or the first recruit wanting to climb the ranks quickly, will rise to the challenge presented here by the "painted lady." And as soon as one FN attack goes unchallenged by the "painted lady," the village is toast. I give them a week, tops.

Kudos to some clever in-universe bending special effects. Doesn't save the episode though.

Katara's preachy speech here makes absolutely no sense in light of the rest of the episode. Scolding them for not saving themselves, when waiting around for someone to save them appears to have worked perfectly? And having little miss I-must-save-the-whole-world-on-a-weekly-basis-otherwise-my-sense-of-self-implodes deliver that scold?

Who are these people wearing the Gaang's skin?

Yeah, nothing screams undercover in enemy territory like an entire village knowing that you're a waterbender. Good thing the only competent tracker in the Fire Nation is Zuko, otherwise these kids will absolutely be dead long before the eclipse.

Hi Bushi! You're about the only part of this episode that doesn't drive me nuts!

At least the animators had fun with this one.

Is this guy mopping the river?

Exactly how many days did they take out of Sokka's schedule to restore the ecosystem? I don't care how overlevelled these kids are at bending, you cannot mechanically separate an entire river's worth of dirt from water in an afternoon.

Well that's just he piss icing on the shit cake, isn't it? It wasn't enough for Sokka to lose all reason and come around to Katara's very flawed way of thinking, it wasn't enough for Aang to call her a hero, it wasn't enough to have a village worshipping at her feet, Katara needs affirmations of how right and special and correct and perfect and morally justified she is from the spirit world itself. This is Mary Sue stuff.

Final Thoughts

This is the first time an episode of Avatar has felt like a waste of my time.

It's also the first time I've felt like an episode has gone out of its way to insult the audience.

Katara talking about how she knows what she's doing is wrong is worth absolutely nothing when a) she goes right back to doing it; and b) literally every other part of this episode trips over itself to assure Katara that she's in the right.

Katara is downright punchable this episode. Sokka is Flanderised; Toph is non-existent; Aang is just there; poor Appa is an unwitting accessory to crime; and Momo has as much impact as a housefly.

So the execs forgot about the existence of The Spirit World Part One and demanded a save the environment special episode. The writers responded by forgetting that they'd already established that Katara was ride or die for literally anyone with a pulse in Imprisoned, and gave us this to remind us of that fact. They also forgot that they'd already established that Katara has no moral code whatsoever the minute her personal interest is involved in The Waterbending Scroll, so they decided to recycle the "narrative sides with Katara endangering them all over Sokka being reasonable" plot from that episode and hope we wouldn't notice. We did.

At least with Imprisoned, Katara kind of sort of caused the problem that she fixed. She was super tangentially involved in that kid's arrest. Here, she causes problems by trying to fix problems that she didn't really have any business getting involved in.

The more of this I watched, the more I wanted someone to slap Katara. What I wouldn't give for an episode where she is wrong (has happened a lot) and the episode doesn't pretend otherwise (has never happened). For god's sake, LET HER BE WRONG AND FEEL IT. How else is she going to progress past being self-righteously fourteen? Why is she being so consistently insulated from consequences? Aang chooses power over family at the end of season two and gets actually murdered for it. Katara steals, lies, skirts dangerously close to being a false prophet and does a nifty little ecoterrorism (with Aang's help), and she gets villagers being a bit shouty before big brother comes in and fixes it. Then she gets divine sanction for her actions so even the shouty bit is negated.

There's an interesting contrast in Katara's "I will never turn my back on people who need me" and Sokka's "I will never turn my back on you." It shows which of the two doesn't have their head in the clouds, and has actually formulated realistic expectations of how much a single person can do. It also speaks to the fundamental difference in how they operate. Katara acts; Sokka mitigates. Sokka does Katara's thinking for her; Katara outsources her thinking and then gets pissed when rational thoughts don't conform to her emotions' view of the world.

Why haven't the villagers moved away? If the water was poisoning them this much, why are they still here? Was the early 2000s too early to have a theme of climate refugees? Or the pollution equivalent? That would have been more interesting than this.

I hated this. Why isn't this the episode that gets hated on like the Great Divide? Its sins are nothing compared to this.

Doc, Shu, and Bushi were the only good thing in this episode, but they weren't enough to make this one remotely rewatchable.

One out of Three so far on season three episode quality. No other season has had this bad a ratio this early. This does not bode well for the rest of this season.

[aviduringgremlinhours]

My Muse

~content warning: slightly nsfw~

Mizu x artist!reader

Authors note: I am not a writer so I apologize for any mistakes! Enjoy!

"Somethings' off...I can feel it..." you say as you squint at the canvas before you. Wether its the shape of the head or the length of the torso, you could TELL something was off. "Two years of art school and yet I still can't seem to get body proportions right. Ugh, maybe I should just find a different career path-"

You hear a knock on the studio door "Y/N? You in there? I made us some tea, can I come in?" you hear the voice of your partner, Mizu, behind the door. "Oh! Yes! Come in!" You exclaim. Upon your approval she comes in with two cups of tea and sets them both at the break table nearby. Deciding to take a break, you get up from the frustrating sketch before you to spend some much needed time with Mizu.

"Hows the art going? What are you working on?" She asks curiously. Mizu has always loved your art, and though she was a woman of few words, you could feel her admiration and respect coming off of her as she gazed fondly at the paintings made by your hand.

"I feel like if I try to fix it any longer I'm going to jump off a bridge" you sigh, half joking at this point. "Ouch, that bad?" She raises an eyebrow as her eyes scan the canvas. "It looks a little off but its not bad. Perhaps you should do some model studies. Who knows, maybe seeing the body up close will help you figure out what you're missing."  The idea sounds good in theory, but theres a problem with it "Where would I find someone willing to strip down and let me stare at them for hours while I draw them? I don't really have the cash to pay someone for it." You ask her earnestly.

"Well..." she contemplated "I could be your model, if you want." Your eyes widen at the thought, it makes sense, and its not like you haven't seen her naked before, but you feel a blush crawling up your cheeks regardless. "A-are you sure you're comfortable with that?" "Absolutely sure, I'm comfortable with it if you are. We can start after we finish the tea" She says, her ice blue eyes seemingly brightening up with excitement.

A brief moment later, and Mizu stands before you, a robe being the only thing covering her up. "I'm ready. Where should I stand?" She asks you. "Oh, just go sit on the lounge right here, I want to try capturing you in a leasurely pose." You say. "Just lay back with your back proped up on the arm of the lounge, have one knee bent, and your arm resting on the bent knee. Look off to the side as well." she nods and gets into position as you ready your pencil. "Ready?" You ask, "Ready."

You begin sketching out her figure, glancing over at her every now and then for reference. Every curve, every scar, every fold of her body carefully replicated onto your canvas. From her slender yet defined arms to her lean torso and model-eque long legs. "She's so beautiful..." you think to yourself. You sketch more. Her breasts, her gorgeously long dark brown hair, her breathtaking blue eyes-

You notice her glancing at you, flinching away your daydream as you hastily hide your burning red face behind the canvas. You hear a soft chuckle emit from her as she looks away, a warm smile fixed to her face and a light blush forming. The silence in the air that followed was not a suffocating one, but one that carried a sense of quiet intimacy between two lovers. Warm, soft, and inviting. You feel yourself beginning to relax as you continue to sketch the beautiful woman in front of you.

You finish your sketch up and exhale deeply "Its done! It came out so well! Would you like to see?" You ask her excitedly as she rises from the lounge and reaches for her robe. "Hell yeah I would." She replied. As she scanned over the canvas, her eyes widened with awe. "Its...amazing love, is this how you see me?" She asked "Of course!" You tell her "You're the most beautiful and amazing partner in the whole world, you could say you're my muse..." she looks away bashfully, a shy but happy hum coming out as a response. You gently turn her head to face you a plant a loving, soft kiss on her lips, one which she reciprocates in kind. "Thank you Mizu, you've been a great help. I love you." She beams at those 2 magic words "I love you too, Y/N"

[felassan]

Just poring over some of the new images. ◕‿◕

Rogue Rook, Harding, Neve and Varric in Minrathous. A party of four temporarily, though the third non-Rook person is automatic and quest-related. Do you think this is Docktown (in Minrathous. the cranes or wooden pulleys give it that kind of impression) from another angle, or is Docktown in this image across the water from this point? Either way it's cool to see the same general location, in this case a city, both at night and during the day. It's raining and that makes me excited to experience different weather and environmental effects in different locations. :> Also the contrast of Minrathous in the rain here vs Minrathous when it's dry in the Docktown image. :> Maybe there is day/night cycles...?

Are the NPCs on the ground members of Tevinter society who live on the streets (there was an interactable NPC at the start of the gameplay reveal video whom it looked like Rook had the option of speaking to and giving a coin), or were they impacted during the attack of demons recently on this part of Minrathous and that's why they are on the ground? this scene looks to be from the same segment of gameplay as was shown in the gameplay reveal video, around the 10 minute mark. they have just 'recruited' Neve and are about to go and check out Solas' hideout beneath the statue on the right, Our Lady of Victory. the statue is of Andraste; one of her titles in the Chant of Light is Lady of Perpetual Victory. she has her arm outstretched as if hearing or beseeching the Maker. I'm interested to see more of Imperial/Tevene Andrastian belief and how it compares to the southern form of Andrastianism.

the magical 'neon' street lights and signs, rain, night-time, streets, etc remind me of this DA4 concept art, which we also know shows Minrathous. It's cool to see concept art realized as in-game art like this. in the center is a large tear in the Veil, like a gaping wound, which we know is caused as a result of Solas' ritual and which demons are coming through at this point. overhead is the floating building with its spotlights. I hope we can visit the floating building in the game. :D

is the long bridge a magic monorail or something, or just a bridge?

In this image we see a bar or tavern-type place. from the filename where this was originally posted, we know this to be situated in Docktown, Minrathous. Could this be the bar where the game starts off in Minrathous (where Rook has the choice of intimidating a bartender or not), the bar in which Varric and Harding are taking part in a bar fight in in the character trailer? or maybe this is the Swan, the tavern Corinne mentioned as being in Minrathous which has good tavern music? an article also mentioned a pub in the streets of Minrathous which has a dozen NPCs in it and which is reached via a wide, winding pathway. probably at least two of these various bar/pubs are actually the same one being described/shown in a different way hh. :D the screenshot has Tevene-y touches in places, like the vases with snakes and snakey patterns on them and the pointy chairs.

now that we know that every NPC in the world apart from main characters like party members was made using the same CC as we will use to create Rook, I'm looking extra-hard with interest at NPCs in images of the game like these to try and see e.g. some of the hairstyles that there are. in this image for example it looks like multiple different hairstyles can be seen. there are human and elven NPCs present, and a bouncer or guard at the steps. a cat sits by the fire. near the middle on the table it looks like a hookah, which we've seen before in northern Thedas, like in Antiva. only, this one has snakes in its design. which, yeah, we're in Tevinter. ^^ (this also makes me think of the Viper and the Shadow Dragon faction snake symbol, and wonder where their base of operations is.. Docktown is Neve's home, and she's affiliated with the Shadow Dragons.)

Necropolis Halls [known from a file name], Nevarra. a flock of bats or birds flies overhead. Is the ceiling here a ginormous rib-cage in design or am I just seeing things? :D I'm amazed by the scale, grandiosity, and verticality in the design here. in the foreground, the party is made up of mage qunari Rook holding a really cool staff, Lucanis and Emmrich. I feel like, of course taking Emmrich with you when you explore the Necropolis is a good idea!! from behind, Lucanis' cape getup look like folded corvid wings. qunari Rook has a cool robe or cape, and is that his kneeguard/boot or does Lucanis has a knife or dagger strapped to his lower leg? btw, how many knives does this guy have. :D he already fights with two swords/daggers, and it looks like he has a knife strapped to his chest in this image too. I wonder also if this is the same qunari Rook as here? their staff and horns look similar, but the hair color isn't right.

on the right, we can see urns which look like they have the top halves of skulls as their lids. the bottom row of teeth are present on the non-lid part of the urn. the same asset can be seen on the right and left of the foreground here, which going by that and the tall skeletons in the background like we can see in this image, is also a picture in the Necropolis. the giant skeleton/undead statues (not unlike here), dressed in tatters (maybe they are designed to evoke bandages, like the Nevarran mummification death practises?) look like they are maybe holding torches or lights at their chests, as they are lit from around there in sickly-green 'undead vibes' light. the way their arms and hands are placed look like a person who is resting in a coffin. and if you look at the texture of their chest/ribcages, it's the same as the texture on the pillars they are fixed to, as if the pillars are rows of bones/ribcage shapes from the ground to the ceiling.

especially after Down Among The Dead Men in TN, I've been itching to explore the Necropolis!! lets goo.

Necropolis Halls again [known from a file name], Nevarra. the lighting here is different - it's darker, and the green necromancy-vibe lighting has increased. perhaps the previous Necropolis Halls image is from closer to the entrance of the place, and this one is deeper inside? the Necropolis has public open-air gardens and then lower crypts, to which access is restricted, deeper inside. it's eerie, like the vibe here, like that dragon dissection could be taking place just out of view through the green-lit doorway in this image. even the trees look dead and grasping.

maybe the green fire-torches here are Veilfire? and there are all kinds of vases and stuff - it gives the sense of canopic jars, like ancient Egyptians used to store viscera in during the mummification process, and of urns (Nevarrans prefer mummification to cremation ofc, but yea irl in the 'aesthetic vibes sense of a crypt full of undead', way, it reminds me of urns filled with peoples' ashes). when they said we would go to "to grim and gothic areas", one of the gothic-type ones was surely the Necropolis, right? ^^

this time the party looks to be human Rook, Harding and Neve. again the skeleton statues have the coffin-resting type pose, and the sense of bandages hanging from them and wound round their arms. and again the scale, verticality etc is amazing! the designs on the giant skull in the center interest me - is this just aesthetic design/Nevarran art, or is there an arcane aspect/function to it? lastly, from these two images it seems like maybe hexagons are an aspect of Nevarran art/design?