#i nearly passed out once and came to to the nurse saying 'do you have a history or seizures?'

[bucephaly]

Hh I have to get a blood draw tomorrow I Hate it

[readwritealldayallnight]

Declined

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 9.2k words (whoopsies)

warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, stalker!Simon but he does it with the intention of loving you so therefore I also tag this as fluff, the usual swearing, smut, f!oral receiving, p in v sex, unprotected sex, finishing inside

Continuation of this idea

He almost hadn’t seen you, that very first time

He was begrudgingly on his sixth day of mandatory leave, something he had been pushing Price on for too long now, the Captain finally putting his foot down and saying the Lieutenant could no longer avoid it. Following a couple of particularly brutal operations recently, the higher ups were becoming increasingly concerned as to his mental stability, stating Ghost’s actions and his own written reports reflected an impulsivity and darkness they were steadily losing confidence in.

Ghost found the claims ridiculous. They had shaped him into exactly what they needed him to be on the battlefield, hadn’t they? They’d taken the scrawny runt of the litter and shaped him into a lean, mean, killing machine who never blinked twice as the blood of those lives he’d taken became as permanent of a stain on his skin as the ink from a tattoo gun. What did they fuckin’ care how his bloody mental health was?

Price insisted that the younger man not sulk inside of his flat for the entire duration of what he tried to convince him could be treated as a well deserved rest, encouraging him to get out at least once a day, if only to stretch his legs and prevent him from going truly stir crazy.

“Ye do understand they won’t let you back until they think you’re at least tryin’ to put the work in?” The Captain had told him the last time he saw him, doing his best to remind his second in command of the situation they’d been put into. “Take up fuckin’ yoga if ye think it’ll help ye. Just find something to distract yer mind and have them clear ye to come back sooner than later.”

A distraction huh?

Now, he’s sat at a table in the corner of an already too small and too cramped cafe, nursing a less than mediocre cup of tea on his daily outing, only just looking to help pass the time faster until he could be back on base where he belonged. For no particular reason other than perhaps divine intervention, he had only happened to glance up that time the bell above the door rang rather than the other hundred times it had gone off this morning, and that was when Ghost saw you

You, who appeared as though you’d only stumbled into the shop because a strong gust of wind had pushed you in his direction, your skittish, frazzled appearance making you stand out amongst the crowd of bored looking caffeine addicts stood waiting in queue, hardly sparing you a glance as they awaited their next 5£ fix

You were pushing your hair out of your face as you caught your breath, accompanied by the sound of the bell ringing as the door finally shut behind you, a noise nearly akin to angels strumming their harps up above when Ghost caught his first proper glimpse of your visage

There was something about you that piqued his interest then and there, his eyes never leaving you as you continuously struggled with the stack of books, journals and loose papers nearly slipping from your grasp, your other arm occupied with the so full it could burst tote bag that kept sliding off your shoulder

He had to stop himself from actually scoffing at your appearance, you came across as so opposite to how he carries himself, silent and stealthy, cool and collected, priding himself on being able to slip in and out of rooms unnoticed, even with his huge frame. And here you were, stumbling in like a bull in a china shop and appearing before him like the epitome of a hot mess on legs

He watched you the entire time you stood in queue, he watched you place your order and pay, noting the way his cold, dead to the world heart tried to skip a beat when you smiled at the barista, he watched you glance about the cafe as you waited for your beverage, your gaze somehow never landing on the one that had been focused on you since you walked in

Now, there are countless explanations as to why Ghost did what he did next, many of them could be explained away as being innocent enough, no real ill-intent or harm done, the Lieutenant was simply bored and looking for something to occupy his time with, to entertain his mind, like the higher ups had ordered

Unfortunately for you, he believed he had just found his distraction

It was really almost too easy, any simple civilian could have done it, his SAS skills not even needing to come into play you were making this so simple for him, you might as well have been asking for it

First, he saw your eyes light up when the barista called your name out along with your drink order, giving Ghost the first half of the information he needed. Next, he was watching you walk by his table to collect your beverage, paying him no mind at all as he glanced towards the stack in your arms, your last name practically popping out at him from the top corners of nearly all your loose papers, granting the large men exactly what he’d been hoping to see

You were none the wiser as you happily skipped out of the cafe, bidding the girl behind the counter a happy Sunday along the way, unaware as to the pair of eyes following your every movement, and the traumatized mind behind them who had already begun his plotting

One week

Seven days go by since that first Sunday he saw you in the cafe

And in that time, Simon’s kept himself busy, learning as much as he can about his newest distraction, his new little hobby, his pet project

Equipped with your first and last name tucked into the folds of his brain, it had been all too simple, nearly comical how easy it was for Ghost to look you up online and learn all he wanted to know about you

Thanks to the world wide web, in a weeks time Ghost had been able to discover all those essential details he supposes other men would have had to learn through taking you on date after date, finding out which school you’re attending for your masters degree, gaining access to your class schedule, giving him a glimpse into your routine Mondays through Fridays, discovering which local book store you’re working at part time on the weekends

You’re evidently a clever bird, having your few social media accounts set to private mode, but you’re sweet to think something like that could keep someone like him from getting what he wants

Soon enough, he’s got access to every photo and video you’ve ever uploaded to the web through the years, happy to note that you’ve never posted anything that would hint towards there being a man in your life right now

And really, it isn’t entirely your fault that you’re so open and honest in some of your posts, believing that no one apart from your family and close friends will be reading it, as you had excitedly posted photos of your new apartment last year, writing in the caption how you were eager to start this new chapter of your life, living on your own, all by yourself, not even a dog to keep you company when the floor boards creak at night and branches tap against the windows, just and old blind cat you’d rescued

While your friends had commented on how cute and cozy your decor had been, his own eyes skipped over the overpriced pillows and throws and instead locked on to the windows and doors, noting the standard, or altogether missing, security systems in place

Ghost is thinking about what the easiest way to gain access to your flat’s floor plan would be, he could pretend he’s an interested tenant and reach out to the landlord, hmm but then he’d have to actually talk to someone, something he’s been able to avoid doing so far, avoid leaving any trace- when the sound of the bell ringing above the door lets him know you’ve walked in

Much like last time, his eyes following your figure is the only perceptible movement he allowed himself, guarded by the shadows of his hood over his head, no one would ever be able to notice the steadfast attention he pays to your every single movement

You spend a total of 9 minutes 38 seconds in the cafe this time around, from the time you enter until you’re walking back out with your warm drink in hand, each second being ingrained into Ghost’s mind

A small part of him had almost tried to fool himself in the beginning, attempting to convince himself that this would be enough, learning about a curious little bird from behind a screen and silently watching her bounce around a coffee shop once a week should have been enough to keep his warring mind occupied, to keep the Lieutenant distracted until the higher ups decided enough time had passed to offer him a chance back

That was until, he’d heard you laugh

You were nearly out of the cafe, so close to being an itch he could almost consider satisfyingly scratched and over with, when a woman and her overzealous toddler came bounding round the corner, practically knocking into you with your full arms

But rather than becoming upset at your nearly spilled drink or almost ruined academic papers, you reassured the woman, got down to the tots level to make sure they were alright, and then you laughed with them

Your fucking giggle was to him what children heard when the ice cream truck came driving by, your smile stretching further than it previously had before his eyes, your voice sounding as melodic as the bell above the door did, and that was when Ghost knew, he was fucked

All of the world’s information online couldn’t put into words what he was seeing in front of him with his own two tired eyes; you were sweet

Too sweet, tooth-achingly sweet, sweet enough to trust this cold, dark world and offer it a bright smile in return

He’s seen people killed for far, far less

But not you

He wouldn’t allow such a cruel fate to befall such a darling bird, he wanted to keep you sweet, keep you smiling and giggling without worries of predators watching from the shadows, mouths salivating and jaws itching to clamp down on something soft

Not when you’d flown to close to him twice now, near enough that he can practically feel the wind beneath your wings as you float out of the cafe again, unaware that you’ve stepped into the large, gilded cage that is Ghost’s attention

Another week passes

Ghost takes his curiosity away onto the streets for the first time and counts to sixty before he follows you out of the coffee shop that Sunday, careful to stick close to the buildings and shadows, mingling in with the crowds and keeping a reasonable distance from you as he follows in your steps

He lurks near the crowded bust stop across the street from the moment you walk into your shift at the bookshop, and remains there until the second you step back out hours later, locking up the store behind you and beginning your stroll home

He waits outside your flat, noting which window on the second floor lights up with the soft glow of a lamp not long after you venture into the building, letting him know exactly which one is yours, and which one he’ll be keeping a close eye on from now on

Another week passes

Ghost has most of your routine memorized by now

He knows what time you leave in the morning depending on your classes that day, knows you often don’t make it home until after dark on those days

He knows your shifts at the bookstore every weekend never change, with your Sunday morning visits to the cafe before work being one of the few luxuries you apparently allow yourself

Ghost hangs around your flat often enough that he allows some of the neighbours to begin recognizing him in passing, letting them assume he must live in the building as well

All the better for him really, when the nice older couple doesn’t blink twice as he carefully grumbles about being locked out one night and they grant him their key code to unlock the front doors

Another week passes

Ghost knows you’ve been complaining to your landlord about how the building’s laundry machines are giving you a hard time, though you don’t tell the balding man about how it seems your undergarments are the only thing disappearing from your loads-

He knows where you do your shopping, and how you avoid a certain cashier who never gets the hint when you don’t return his attempts at flirting

He knows your Sunday morning coffee order by heart, knows exactly around what time you’ll be popping into the cafe, always around 8:25am before your 9am shift stocking books six blocks away

Another week passes

Ghost knows you haven’t noticed yet that the nuisance of a cashier at your local grocer hasn’t shown up to work in days now, the Lieutenant having ensured that he wouldn’t be bothering you anymore

He knows you’re running low on panties, considering he has nearly an entire weeks worth of your unwashed garments tucked safely in his nightstand

He knows you’ve started to notice the door leading out to your second storey balcony isn’t always locked when you return home, even though you could have sworn it was secured before you left that morning

He knows you’ve begun to question whether you left that lamp on when you rushed out for school, or if you’d closed your bedroom curtains before bed at night, or where those leftovers in the fridge went-

Ghost knows it’s nearly time to act - his clever bird is slowly catching on as he grows less and less careful, more daring - but it’s on one of those nights that he feels bold enough to slide your balcony door ajar enough for him to slide inside and watch your chest rise and fill with each breath as you sleep peacefully unaware, that his phone rings and nearly ruins everything

It was only in recent weeks that Ghost felt confident enough, or perhaps stupid enough his Captain say, to observe you more closely, taking a more ‘hands-on’ approach. At night, he more often than not occupied the nooks and crannies of your domicile as you tossed and turned in your sleep, mere steps away from the man who simply wished to watch you dream for now

He can’t explain his fascination with you even to himself - it’s as if he awoke one morning to discover he- someone had drilled a hole into his skull and poured your liquid form directly into his cranium

He sometimes wishes you were as easy to catch as a common insect, wishes that he could examine you under a microscope, to pin your extremities down and take a scalpel to your soft flesh to finally peer inside and see what makes you tick- but he knows he must tread lightly, keep you from bleeding out on the table too soon

Always careful and sure of his movements as he inched your bedroom door open that night, he had been preoccupied on watching you for any sudden indication of disturbing and waking you, he’d been entirely caught off guard by the sudden buzzing going off in his pocket

He hadn’t been expecting anything from his cell that night, considering that this was the first sign of life his the device had shown in the month he’d been forced on leave, but he thanked whatever God might still be listening to him that the ringer was off like it always was, saving him from the disaster that would have been his ringtone suddenly waking you just before two o’ clock in the morning to a masked stranger lurking in your doorway

Though the phone call hadn’t woken you, it had startled Ghost enough to throw him off, had him stepping back in surprise and making the near fatal mistake of stepping on one of your cats squeaky toys

The cheap pet store toy goes off in the otherwise deadly silent room, only the light of the moon creeping through your curtains casts a faint glow across your sleeping figure, which to Ghost’s horror, begins to stir softly

Ghost has backed out of your bedroom, slipped out the balcony door, silently shut it behind him and jumped back down onto the street with the agility of a trained professional in their element, all before the call has even been sent to voicemail

He’s ripping the device from his pocket and slamming thick fingers onto buttons as the sudden surge of adrenaline catches up to him- as he realizes just how fucking close that was - daring to glance up and spot a single light turning on in the window he knows is your bedroom

“What?” He asks harshly into the receiver, uncaring to check what the caller ID says- only one person has his cell number anyhow

“I’ll be honest,” The Captain’s accent comes through clear as day, sounding all too chipper for the current time on the clock. “I was expectin’ at least a slightly warmer greetin’ from you.”

“After a month of hearing jack shit from you?” Ghost knows he’s being slightly crueller than he needs to be. He is happy to hear Price’s voice, but the inconvenient timing of this call has him on edge, has him wishing this conversation would end already. His body may be out of your flat, but his mind is still up there with you, wondering if you’ve gone back to sleep yet, if you were convinced it was just the cat moving around at night. “Wha’ is it, Cap?”

There’s silence on the line for a moment, shuffling and the tell-tale sound of the older man letting out a deep sigh as he settles in says, “You’ve been… quiet Ghost. Was expectin’ to have heard from you by now.”

“Ain’t I supposed to be bloody takin’ it easy? As you’d put it? Why would I call when you’re the one that fuckin’ sent me away.” He surprises even himself with his harshness towards a man he holds so much respect for, one of the few people he holds to such a high standard. But the inconvenience of the timing of this call has Ghost on edge, has him uneasy, spitting out any words that will end this call and allow him to let out the breath he feels he’s still holding in.

“Fair ‘nough.” The Captain answers, having already suspected that this would likely not turn into the most joyous of phone calls. “Though for the record, you know it was never my call, Ghost. I pushed against it, vouched for you, they just-” the older man lets another deep sigh before he decides to end that train of thought and get to the point of why he called in the first place. “They’re saying they’re willing to have you come in now, with the time that’s passed. Retake your psych eval. You tell them whatever they want to hear to pass you, and you’re back in, you hear me?”

He can almost picture it, the longer Price goes on

He could pick up the duffel bag he’s had packed and sitting ready by the door since the moment he’d been put on this mandatory leave, drive to base, bullshit his way through whatever fuckin’ questions are meant to determine whether he’s fit for duty or not (even if he risks returning with a mind even darker than when they sent him away-), and be back on the battlefield by the end of the week, gunshots ringing in his ears once more and blood under his fingernails

The thing is however, there’s an itch under his skin he hasn’t been able to scratch yet, a melody stuck on repeat in his mind he hasn’t been able to perfect the tune to quiet yet, a sliver he put into his flesh himself and hasn’t found a way to pry out without making a mess

“Wish it were that simple.” The masked man grumbles under his breath, leaning his head back against the scratchy brick of the building, staring up at the starless sky, the only light he can see is one leading him back towards you

“What was that?” Price attempts to clarify, believing he’s misheard his Lieutenant. From his perspective, this is the news his second in command has been waiting to hear this entire time and he suffered through days of boredom and inactivity. He figured this would be a quick call that ended with his missing task force member returning as soon as possible

“‘Fraid I ain’t quite ready yet, sir. Got something I need to take care of first.”

“You- how do you mean, Ghost?” He asks again, in slight disbelief that the man on the other end of the line isn’t itching to return as he believed he would be.

“Took your advice, Cap. Found a distraction. Can’t go being upset now, to find out I’m distracted.”

It takes him longer than it should, to come up with what he considers as Plan A

Every scenario he dreamt up in his head, every possible meet-cute that could occur, none of it seemed good enough for inserting himself into your life and ensuring his spot became a permanent one

What if he caught you at a bad time and you hardly spared a glance at him?

What if he intimidated you, the way he tended to throw most people off?

What if you found him strange, creepy, scary?

What if you didn’t like him and he ruined any chance he ever had at doing this right?

He couldn’t risk such a thing, not when he intended on keeping you around for a long, long time

He had to ensure that your first meeting went well, was one where you would be just as infatuated with him as he’d been with you

In order for this to work, he had to have you approach him

Either way, he was going to have you, he would just rather if you went willingly and happily

The idea had struck him on a Saturday, as he watched you and your coworker locking up the bookstore one evening, overhearing a snippet of your conversation had a lightbulb appearing above his head

You stood by the shopfront as your coworker tugged on the door handle, making sure it was locked tight for the night, before she mentioned to you; “God, I wish payday wasn’t a week away.”

“Tell me ‘bout it.” You’d agreed, readjusting the strap of your constantly slipping tote bag on your shoulder. “I hope I’ve got enough money in my bank account to cover my coffee tomorrow morning.”

Bingo

He’d shown up to the cafe extra early the next morning, though he always arrived at least a half hour before you did, wanting to fade into the background of the bustling morning crowd before you popped in

He’d considered finding a way to hack your bank cards and have them malfunction, but then thought better of it, curious if he could go about this another way that was less likely to leave a digital footprint

He knew the barista working the counter this morning was a newer hire, hadn’t even been here for a full month yet

He tried to look as non-intimidating as he could as he walked up to her, though that was no easy feat considering his stature alone

He ordered his drink, his fee for being able to occupy the corner table as long as he liked, before he told her he had a strange request to make

He was confident that she wouldn’t tell him no, that she was still new enough to the job that she wouldn’t want to deny a paying customer

He explained that there’d be a woman coming in later, and that he wanted to pay for her order

Ghost could see how the naive girl was almost fooled into believing he was sweet for a moment, perhaps caring even, asking him if he was wanting to start one of those pay it forward trains where everyone pays for the person behind them- before he cut her off

“No.” He’d clarified firmly, seeing her eyes widen only slightly before hastily putting her customer service face back in place. “Only her.”

He said he wanted to her pretend as though your cards weren’t working when you would go to pay- to tell you they had declined or something, before he’d step in and pay for you

“She’s an old friend o’ mine. Haven’t seen her in a while. Was hoping you could help me with this sort o’ … ‘prank’ if you will.”

Any hesitation the woman might have still been harbouring quickly disappeared when a 20£ note was flashed to her

Nearly a half hour later, he watches his plan unfold without a hitch

You think nothing of it the first time the barista tells you your payment didn’t go through, becoming confused when it declines a second time, and increasingly flustered each time after that when every method of payment you have can’t cover your 5£ morning drink

Ghost watches this unfold with a satisfied smirk hidden under his plain medical mask - he thought the balaclava might be a bit too much for your first meeting - enjoying seeing you flounder momentarily, unaware of how everything you know is about to change as he steps closer, extending his gloved hand next to you, close enough to feel your heat radiating through your jacket, before he’s tapping his card against the machine and speaking to you for the first time

“I’ve got tha’ for ya.”

And suddenly, as simple as flicking a switch on, as easy as waking up from a peaceful sleep, Ghost now gets to watch all his hard work pay off right before him, as your eyes meet finally meet his for the first time

He has to actively fight to hear your incessant apologies and thank you’s aimed his way over the thundering of his heart beating in his damaged eardrums, has to refrain himself from grinning as wide as a Cheshire Cat beneath his mask and give himself away too soon

Though his poker experience is usually limited to late nights under foreign stars with the 141, Ghost knows how to play his cards right, especially with you

He turns you down at your first offer to pay him back, letting you stew in the awkward discomfort of a stranger saving your ass in front of other strangers for a moment longer, before you’re saying the exact words he wanted to hear coming from your lips, as though he’d handed you the script himself

“Do you come here often? I just mean that- I come here a lot- sometimes. And if you’re here next time I’m here, then maybe I can pay you back, buy you a drink.”

With a hurried promise to meet him here at this time next week, and a sheepish smile sent his way as you duck out of the busy cafe to head to work, Ghost slips the barista another 20£ in thanks before he’s out of the shop as well, following you from a distance, each step he takes feeling lighter than the next

You can’t keep pretending anymore

Even your friends are starting to take notice

Well, if you can count the people who are forced to spend time with you, your classmates and coworkers, as friends

“You all good over there?” Your colleague asks you as you’re restocking books on the shelves one afternoon, having noticed the way you jumped in surprise when a customer rounded the corner unexpectedly

“Yeah I-” You take a steadying breath, one hand still clutching your frantic heart as it races in your chest. “I’ve just been paranoid recently. Think school’s getting to me.”

You can tell she doesn’t quite believe you, based off the way she’s still looking at you, before she decides to drop the subject for now, going to greet the couple that just walked in

You’re not sure you’d believe yourself either, if you were the one on the outside looking in

While it was true that you were in a particularly busy portion of the semester at the moment, your assignments and grades were unfortunately the furthest thing from your mind

You’d been able to play it off at first, blaming your constantly preoccupied mind and overloaded schedule, how else could you keep forgetting such silly things like turning the lamp off though you could’ve sworn you had- and believing you’d left yourself two slices of pizza when the plate in the fridge obviously only had one on it but wait you only ordered a small and ate half last night how could- and the plants that you knew you kept neglecting suddenly began blooming back to life when you knew you hadn’t watered them in ages

Those strange occurrences, those little blips in your memory were easier to pass off, less difficult to wrestle around in with in your psyche and instead pass off as moments of forgetfulness, a busy student and part time employee with too much on her plate and not enough of a social life

But then things went from being strange, to downright concerning

You knew you had locked the balcony door last night, hell you checked it every damn night, a habit you’d had long before you lived on your own in the middle of a busy city, so why were you not only often finding it unlocked, but one night you found it slightly ajar, the morning breeze rustling the curtains as though they were taunting you step closer

Speaking to some of your other neighbours in passing, none of them had anything close to similar complaints about the laundry machine stealing their undergarments as a price to pay for clean laundry, your panties apparently being the only victims, something you were trying to convince yourself wasn’t as bizarre as it clearly was, especially when you were folding laundry one day and discovered you had quite literally not a single pair of knickers left

And then there were the dreams

If you could even call them that

Dreams where a large, dark stranger creeps into your home, into your bedroom, and simply watches you

Lurks in the corners of your flat and observes your every move, your every breath, never making a single sound, as silent as a ghost

And the stranger never does anything, never says anything, only ever just stands there, until you wake up and you can swear you see his shadow disappearing out of the corner of your eyes as you open them

It doesn’t take long for you to start noticing the shadow when you’re awake too

Disappearing around bends and corners, slipping through grocery aisles and alley ways, blending amongst crowds and backgrounds, vanishing when you turn your head to catch sight of him

You feel like you’re losing your mind

“Why don’t you come out with Jordan and I tonight?” She tries again, coming to drop another box full next to your feet. “Take your mind off of school. We’re going to try that new pub down near Walton Street.”

“I would, but-” You cut yourself off, spotting your manager coming to ring up a customer at the front. The two of you exchange knowing glances and small smiles, knowing your sweet old man of a boss doesn’t truly mind when his employees chit chat together, he says he likes seeing you all getting along, but you still try to keep up appearances

You put your thumb and pinky out to look like a phone before shaking it by your ear, letting your coworker know you’ve got plans for the night as she playfully rolls her eyes at you and mouths “I see, I see” with her hands up in mock surrender, before she’s retreating to gather more boxes from the back

It’s the same plans you’ve had almost every night for going on nearly two weeks now

While it was true that the sudden strange occurrences in your life were preoccupying most of your mind these days, you were still in fact a busy student, and so while you hadn’t entirely forgotten about the stranger you’d promised a coffee to the week prior, you couldn’t hide your genuine surprise at seeing him there that next Sunday

He was sat at a table in the corner, his hands free of any drink, allowing you to pay him back, just as he said he would

What he hadn’t prefaced the last time however, was how quickly he’d make you fall for him

While he might not have been the type of guy you would have originally gone for, unable to deny the intimidating aura that follows him around, you were all too pleased to discover that behind that hardened exterior was someone you got along with without even having to try, discovering he agreed with everything you said, had a lot in common with you, listened attentively to every word you spoke, not to mention he was certainly not hard on the eyes

You weren’t able to sit with him long that morning, explaining to him that the cafe was usually your much needed caffeine stop on your way to work, though you’d walked to the bookstore that morning with a pep in your step, and a new number in your contacts, under the name Simon

It wasn’t even a full 24 hours later when he’d first called you up

You were doing dishes in your flat, getting ready to turn in early that night when your phone rang

You couldn’t help the blush that overtook you at hearing his gravelly voice come through the line, tickling your ear as he apologized for already calling you so soon, he just couldn’t remember the name of that book you’d mentioned yesterday and it was bothering him because he wanted to read it before he saw you again

Next thing you knew, close to three hours had gone by, and you felt like a teenager when you both admitted neither wanted to hang up yet, satisfying one another with a promise to call again soon

Soon, it turns out, was the very next night

And the night after that

And the night after that

And soon, you can Simon were talking on the phone every night before bed, hours and hours racking up as you learned more about each other

It was a nice distraction from the source of your anxieties you refused to fully acknowledge yet, a welcome way to take your mind off the stress you’d been experiencing

If you weren’t already so distracted, you might have been paying just a little closer attention

You might have noticed how skilled he was at deflecting personal question aimed his way, or how he was able to answer without truly answering, always quickly turning the spotlight back to you, making you feel seen and listened to in a way no man had done before, taking the attention away from him time and time again

You might have noticed he agreed with you a little too often, never actually voicing any opinions until he knew what yours was first, never taking a stance unless he knew what yours was

What you really should have noticed was the way he seemed to know things about you that you couldn’t remember telling him, chalking it up to being so tired some nights you must have forgotten sharing that with him

In the end, Simon was saying all the right things at the right time, and you were all too happy to hear what you wanted to hear

It was barely ten minutes passed 9 when you were turning the key in the lock for the night, making sure the doors wouldn’t budge before you tightened your hold on your bag and began the trek home, the butterflies in your stomach begin to flutter at the thought of hearing Simon’s voice through the phone soon enough

Luckily, you were only about eight blocks away from home, and the summer sun had only just begun setting as the last of the customers were dwindling out of the shop, meaning you weren’t walking in total darkness quite yet

Yet somehow, something in the air tonight felt different, had the hairs on the back of your neck rising as though anticipating a predator lurking around the corner, ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey

You tried you continue convincing yourself you were nothing short of delusional, paranoid, that watching too many true crime docs was getting to you

But then, just as you were waiting for the pedestrian crossing sign to change, out of the corner of your eye, you saw your shadow

You whipped your head around too quickly, straining your neck but desperate to catch a glimpse and prove you weren’t crazy, but as always, there was no one there

The small crowd around you began crossing the street, unaware of the adrenaline begin to course through your veins as you hobbled along with them, noticing with regret that no one else continued in the direction you would have to turn, leaving you to traverse the next few blocks alone

You hurried your pace, trying to shake the undeniable feeling of something being wrong, when for the first time, you heard your shadow

Light footsteps that grew heavier the more you paid attention to them, the kind that weren’t casually strolling by as you might have hoped, but rather were on a determined path, and to your utter fear, were gaining speed

You never once dared turn your head this time, fear convincing you that should you stop and look back, he would be right there over your shoulder, a shadow coming to life just in time to take yours away

With your building in sight, you said fuck it and broke out into a sprint, hurrying towards the main doors and frantically entering in your code before the worst fo your fears could come true, never glancing back as the doors unlocked and you made a mad dash inside and up the stairs

You were barely through your apartment door before your phone was in your hand, dialling the last number you’d called, the only number you called these days

He answered before the first ring had finished

“‘ello?”

“Simon.” You hated the way your voice sounded, trembling around his name and giving away the clear distress you were in, but you couldn’t help it. Your poor heart was racing a mile a minute, you had tears threatening to spill over your lash line at any moment, you were trembling like a leaf and wanted to seek out the only comfort you’d had recently

“Wha’s wrong?” He immediately asked, evidently hearing your panic through the phone

“Simon, I just-” you let out a gasp, no longer in control of the tears that were starting to run down your cheeks. You double, triple checked the lock on your door was secured before on trembling legs, you slowly made your way towards the balcony doors, blood running cold when you spotted the latch undone. “I know this sounds insane but I really need you, I- I swear someone’s been following me and I think he’s outside my flat and I- I’m so scared Simon I don’t-”

“You’re alrigh’ love.” He cut off your rambling, the confidence in his voice lending you a sliver of strength for a moment. “Jus’ breathe, yeah? I’ll be righ’ there.”

True to his word, Simon is knocking at your flat door in less than four minutes, another anomaly you would have noticed had you not been in such a frantic state of mind

“It’s me love. Jus’ me.” You hear his voice say through the door, standing up on tip toes to peer through the peephole and confirm for your own peace of mind that it really truly is your knight in shining armour, hardly paying any mind to the fact that this is the first time you see him without a mask on the lower half of his face

You’re practically banging the door against the wall as you swing it open in a hurry to get him inside, grabbing him by his jacket to pull his figure closer to yours, barely giving him a chance to shut it behind him before you’re clinging to him like a lost pet whose been returned to their owner

You can hear him shushing you, a large hand coming to soothe your hair as another grabs you by the waist and holds you tighter, trying to reassure you between your sobs that you’re alright, that he’s here now, that you’re always safe with him

There’s a fleeting moment where you can’t help but think about how this isn’t you, how you’ve always been fiercely independent, how you’ve never needed to rely on others for comfort before, let alone a man you met all of two weeks ago, but the thought is gone just as quickly as it appeared, when Simon pulls back to hold your face gently in both of his hands, thumbs carefully rubbing tears off your cheeks as he looks at you with such sincerity, you couldn’t care less if you’ve known him for two weeks or two years, right now you just need someone to tell you everything is okay, that you’re not insane

He leads you towards the couch, planting you sideways across his lap as he leans your head on his shoulder and rubs a soothing hand across your back

“Now, try again, love. Tell me wha’s happened.”

And when he’s asking you so sweetly, touching you so nicely in a way no one has in who knows how long, how could you every deny him?

You tell him everything, all of it, the bizarre coincidences you can no longer explain away, the strange happenings that you cannot chalk up to forgetfulness, the odd feeling of being constantly watched you cannot shake, you tell him all of it

And Simon, he listens to it all, every concern of yours, every worry you’d had, he nods along showing you he’s listening, never interrupting you, always rubbing some part of your skin to let you know he’s here, he’s here and he’s got you

By the end of it, you’re no longer crying, your heart has begun to slow to a more normal rhythm, the goosebumps dotting your skin only a result of the large man caressing you as you avoid dribbling snot onto his jumper

“You must think I’m crazy, right? I- I even think I sound crazy.” You admit, avoiding looking at him as you pick at a loose thread on his collar

“Not at all, love.” His words have your eyes lifting to meet his, finding nothing but honesty in his steady gaze.

“W-what?”

“Said I believe you.” He reiterates, giving your hip a slight squeeze before he’s dragging his fingers down across your thigh, rubbing soothing strokes against your flesh. “Everythin’ you jus’ told me, I don’ wanna scare you bird, but I think you migh’ be righ’. Sounds like someone’s been followin’ ya.”

He must see it in your face, the way your heart practically drops to the floor at his words, because he’s gripping the meat of your thigh a little tighter, opening his mouth to continue before you can spiral further

“But you’re so smart, love. You did exactly the righ’ thing, callin’ me. You knew I wouldn’ let anythin’ happen to ya. I’m here now, I’ve got ya.”

His words are akin to stepping into a steaming warm bath at the end of a gruelling day, the exact comfort you needed in that moment, easing you slowly back into a state of calm, though you don’t feel quite out of the woods yet

“Let me take care of ya, huh? Here, follow me.” He gives your thigh one last squeeze before he’s helping you back up onto more stable legs, never going without at least on hand touching you as he guides you towards your balcony door, making a show of peering outside for any lurking dangers before he snaps the lock in place and draws the curtains shut

“C’mon, let’s check all your windows, eh? Can’t be too sure.”

And so you follow him room to room, watching him with growing gratitude as he goes from window to window, ensuring it’s properly shut and locked before moving onto the next, scanning each room for any sign of a disturbance, letting you know everything is clear each time, until there’s only one door left to go through

Simon inches the door to your bedroom open with the toe of his boot, letting it hit the wall before he steps inside, doing a full scan before he nods towards you to follow him in

You take a seat at the end of your bed as you watch him move through your space, checking your window and closing your curtains, even going as far as to open your closet and peek under the bed, something that forces a fleeting smile on your face in spite of the circumstances

“Think that’s everythin’, birdie.” He admits, coming to sit down next to you on the bed, thighs touching, his muscled arm sneaking around your shoulders to pull you into him. “My brave girl. You’ve been goin’ through all this by yourself, huh?”

“Mhm.” You confirm, feeling too exhausted after the rush of emotions and adrenaline let down to say anything more, too tired to notice the way he’s taken to calling you his all of a sudden, especially when Simon’s embrace is so warm, so inviting

“Poor bird. Must’ve been so scary, not knowing who’s out there.” He coos into your ear, brushing your hair back from your neck, letting you feel his hot breath against your skin. “Aren’t you so glad you called? That I’m ‘ere now?”

“Mhm. Thank you, Simon.” You murmur, the events of the day really catching up to you now

“You never have to thank me, love. I’m here with ya. Not goin’ anywhere.” You feel your lashes flutter shut when his chapped lips come to press a chaste kiss to your temple, as gentle as a butterflies wings as this behemoth of a man comforts you. “You jus’ let me take care of ya now, love. Let me make it all better. Make ya feel good.”

There’s a fraction of a second where your mind catches back up to you, where logic floats up to the surface of your consciousness when you feel Simon’s hand sneak under your shirt, something on the tip of your tongue about how this is only the third time you meet face to face, how you haven’t gone on a proper date yet, how you’ve only known him two weeks-

Any common sense flies out the window however when his lips connect with yours

As his calloused fingers manage to rid you of your top before tangling in your hair, your own are grasping on tightly at his collar, allowing him to take control of the kiss, to take control of the situation, to do as he’s promised and make you feel good, make you forget about everything that’s had you so on edge and allow yourself to be taken care of

Simon hasn’t steered you wrong so far, has he? He’s been nothing but kind, nothing but attentive, nothing but sweet and caring and present and-

Fuck can he kiss

Your heart is racing for an entirely different reason as his fingers reach behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall haphazardly amongst your sheets before he’s pulling his lips off of yours, kissing and nipping along your jaw, your neck, down your collarbone and sternum until his hot breath is tickling one of your nipples and he sucks it gently into his mouth, teeth playfully skimming the raised bud

You can’t help the way you melt like putty in his hands, unknowingly as touch starved as he is, unable to hold back the sounds of your enjoyment when his other hand comes up to tweak your neglected breast, squeezing and pinching until it’s as taut as the one he’s still slobbering all over

Your fingers are pulling at the fabric of his jumper, arching into his touch and gasping when he lets your breast go with a ‘plop’, before his mouth is trailing wet kisses down your sternum, down your stomach, before his skilled fingers are tugging down your pants

“No panties, hm?” You never could have imagined his voice could be deeper than it already was, but the sound of his gravelly accent has chills running up your spine, blush deepening when you see the dark look in his eyes as he peers down at your bare, weeping slit

You have half a mind to explain that you haven’t had time to run to the shops and replace all your missing knickers, but quickly lose any sense of time and place when his broad shoulders are pushing themselves between your thighs, opening them up for his head to drop down and his lips to wrap around your throbbing clit

You can feel him smirk against your folds at the sound you let out, something between a moan and a gasp, before he’s pulling out more delicious noises from you with his tongue alone

“Mmm, you really do taste as good as you look.” He murmurs against your dripping folds, eyes dancing with mischief before his lips are on you again

You feel like your entire being has been pulled apart and put back together in the blink of an eye, your would be stalker having you fearing for your life, and now Simon having you holding on for dear life

You can both hear and feel him groaning against your pussy, licking up your arousal, probing his skilled tongue around your entrance before plunging it as deep as the muscle will go, reminiscent of a man starved as he devours you from the inside out, with no sign of being satiated any time soon

“Simon!” You plead, toes curling, legs shaking. You can hardly believe this is happening, that you’re on the precipice of cumming on this man’s tongue so soon, when suddenly his thumb sneaks down and slides across your clit engorged clit, rubbing steady circles until you’re seeing stars behind your eyelids, eyes rolling to the back of your head and his name the only word you know as you fall headfirst off that cliff known as ecstasy

You’re gasping for breath, still coming back to yourself when he finally pulls himself away, licking his lips as though this was a five star meal he’s just tasted, the look in his eyes telling you he’s likely to be a returning customer

With the way he’s brought you to orgasm faster than any vibrator ever has, you’re hardly in any place to protest when you hear the sound of his belt being undone, his zipper being pulled down, a ringing in your ears when your eyes land on his throbbing, erect member

You barely get a chance to gasp at its size before Simon is on you again, strong hands dragging you further up the mattress before he’s kissing you senseless yet again

You can feel him pumping his cock with one hand as he takes his time tasting you, having you taste yourself on his tongue

He pulls one of your legs up around his waist, opening your centre up to him before you can feel the head of his prick sliding through your folds, teasing your sensitive clit until you’re practically shaking, rolling your hips up against him

He’s swallowing your gasp when he notches himself at your entrance, wasting no time before he’s sinking himself inch by devastating inch, plunging further and further than you thought was possible, until he’s all the way in, hips flush with yours as he’s sheathed himself completely inside you, a perfect fit

While sweet might have been a word you used for the Simon who talks to you on the phone at all hours, who buys you coffee when your cards decline, you cannot bring yourself to believe that that same sweet Simon is the same man who begins thrusting in and out of you with such vigour, such force, it knocks the breath right out of your lungs as your headboard begins banging against the wall

“Fuck!” He’s grunting in your ear, the sounds of skin slapping and your wetness squelching echoing in the room. “Fuckin’ knew it. Knew you’d be this tight. So warm, so wet for me. Perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

“Simon! Oh, Simon!” His name is the only word your lips can make sense of, the only thing your mind can understand. You’re already headed towards another climax, your body feeling like an instrument he’s spent years mastering the art of playing

“Yeah, you gonna come again, pretty bird? Come on my cock? Just for me?” He’s picking up his pace, intent of meeting you there with his own release, grip tightening on your waist as he plunges in and out of you, feeling your tight walls increasingly gripping his cock. “Say it. Say it’s just for me. Say it.”

“It- it’s for you. Just for you, Simon! You!”

“Fuckin’ righ’ it is. My perfect girl.” He praises, sucking dark purple circles onto your neck, fingers unrelenting in their teasing against your clit. “You want it, pretty girl? Then fuckin’ take it.”

Your vision goes white, body practically going numb the pleasure is so all consuming as it shoots through every nerve ending and back, every star in the galaxy appearing before your eyes as you come on his cock. You’re so lost in your orgasm, you hardly notice when he groans out your own name, hips stilling as he shoots his load into you, rutting helplessly against your overused cunt to drag out every second of ecstasy, making sure you take very last drop he has to give you

If you were exhausted before, you’re practically dead to the world now, uncaring that Simon doesn’t even pull out his softening member as he maneuvers the two of you under the covers, smoothing your hair back as he kisses all over your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips

He rubs soothing hands up and down your naked back, telling you how good you did, how good you are for him, how good he’ll be for you, before he’s reaching to turn your lamp off, casting the two of you into darkness as sleep fights to drag you under

You’re on the brink of slumber, too spent to really think about anything that’s transpired tonight, though just conscious enough to feel the smallest of alarms try and go off in the back of your foggy mind at Simon’s words, the last of your self preservation instincts trying to weave its way to the front of your mind, waving the red flag as high as it’ll go

“Good thing I came over soon as you called. Who knows what could’ve happened.”

Your eyes snap open

You’d never told Simon where you lived

~~~~~

If you’ve made it this far, I’d like to offer you a sticker of appreciation

Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! Thank you for your patience on this fic, I cannot even tell you how many times I felt like this story was ready to be posted, but I’d reread it and wouldn’t be satisfied with how it was. This is probably the draft I’ve spent the most time on, and so again I really appreciate the patience in waiting for the upload

But here she is!!! And I hope she was worth the wait

I know this is different from the usual fluff I post, both with a darker Ghost and smut still not being my forte, but I really do sincerely hope this part 2 was everything you guys hoped for! I had a lot of fun writing it, turned into one of my longest ones, and now I’m excited to get to my inbox and answer more requests from you lovely folks

- M 🫶🏻

[yourmamakira]

"FIGHTING WORDS" Carl Grimes, she/her

Set in the Alexzandria Era after Carl lost his eye. His very protective girlfriend overheard the local kids talking about Carl behind his back. and needless to say, no one had anything to say about Carl ever again. [ANGST, to SLIGHT FLUFF]

Carl has been in a coma for weeks. His girlfriend had never left his side after the incident. Her depression had gotten so bad it took Daryal, Glenn and Rick to hold her down to force her to eat and drink water.

Her mood had deteriorated drastically, she was more angry, she was less active, she never smiled anymore and she didn't know who to blame for what happened to Carl. She knew it wasn't right to Blame others for the accident. but she had nearly lost the one thing keeping her going in this Hell that used to be a world, she had every right to be upset.

she sat in the armchair next to the bed Carl lay in peacefully, she slipped between sleep and alert wake. She didn't even let the nurse come into the room to check on Carl unless absolutely necessary, and when anyone else was in beside her and Carl, her hand stayed on her and Carl's Gun that slept in her holster.

her eyes shot open and her hand bolted to her gun as the door to their room swung open. In walked the one and only Daryl Dixon, and for once he was without his crossbow. he walked in with his usual gruff demeanor and closed the door behind him.

The girl took her hand off her guns and crossed her arms as she returned to watching the sleeping Carl.

Darryl came over and sat in the seat opposite of her. he crossed his arms before speaking.

"You need to go outside. He ain't wakin' up any sooner with you watchin' him like a hawk. He ain't goin' nowhere, and you don't have to go that far. Jus' needs to get outta this room."

You glared at him through your hooded eyes. but inevitably he was right. carl had been like this for weeks and every second you watched him it felt like your body was slipping farther into a black hole.

Daryal then spoke again, "You need to be in your best health for when he wakes up. you need ta' take care of em', not him take care of you. how you gon take care of him like this?"

he had you stumped with his words. he was right, how were you going to take care of Carl and you couldn't even take care of yourself?

you let out a sigh and began to get up, he followed suit but then stopped you by holding out his hand. you huffed while rolling your eyes and took your guns out of your holster. he didn't know about the knife in your boot thank goodness, but knowing him he probably did.

you passed him up with a glare while leaving the house and strolling out into the street you hadn't seen in weeks. There wasn't much to do here. Besides the few teens that roamed, but you mainly kept to yourself and Carl.

you never really talked much these days, nothing worth talking about. Many thought you were mute at first meeting you, but that narrative quickly went out the window whenever you got too upset. Memory's of all the times someone had pissed you off to bad and you cussing up a storm regardless the person.

you walked the streets passing by people and not saying a word. You came up to a small bench and decided to take a seat and just take in the fresh air, you had to admit, it did feel nice on your skin to feel the breeze and not that stuffy old room that felt more like a prison rather a room.

a few minutes had passed and you had begun to get up being done with your reminiscence before you spotted a group of teens headed your way.

You despised these inhabitants of Alexandria greatly, and their children were even more unbearable. You started past them before one of them decided to take it upon himself to cat-called you, despite you clearly being madly in love with Carl, these specific group just love to torment you.

"Hey, Miss Mute! How about I show you what a real man looks like in bed while your one eyed freak of a boyfriend's out!" He and his friends cackled like hyenas while shoving him around, as if what he said was the greatest thing in the world.

you slowly spun around and sneered, you decided to brush off his remark of the incident, knowing nothing good would come out of beating his ass, "Your tiny shrimp dick doesn't even come close to a real man. My one eyed freak of a boyfriend at that." he stopped laughing and his gooneys ooed like kindergarteners.

He tilted his head to the side as he stepped closer then he should have. "The fuck did you just say to me, bitch?" You stepped closer to him and you could feel his stank breath up your nose, it made you want to vomit on the spot. But you continued to talk your shit.

"I said, you have a big ass head, and a small as Dick. Your breath also smells like walker ass. need I say more?" Your head tilted to the side and your eyebrows furrowed.

his face contorted into one of anger, he scoffed then chuckled dryly as if he thought a funny thought in his fucked up head.

He raised his hand and tried to touch your hair, but you moved your face and roughly grabbed his arm putting it behind his back so he couldn't move. you then put pressure on his back as he cried out loudly in pain.

"you ever touch me again, and I will fucking kill you!"you yelled out aggressively. You were not in the mood to be fucked with.

He couldn't even respond with words as he just continued to cry like a baby for anyone that would dare to help him.

His friends all backed up out of fear of being next. They started yelling at you to let him go but you didn't listen and continued to nearly break his arm.

He yelled louder as your pressure increased. Your face hot with anger that he even dared to touch you after making a nasty comment about your boyfriend.

You then heard yells of a few adults calling you name but you still didn't let up.

Then out of no where two pairs of strong arms grabbed your arms and you thrashed in their hold.

The boy you had previously had in a hold jumped up to his feet and held his arm in pain, "you crazy bitch! That bullet should have Killed Your boyfriend!"

He yelled out and suddenly your thrashing stopped, you looked up at him with a dark look and his face went cold. He knew he had fucked up.

You harshly ripped your arms away from your holders and ran up to the boy with a flying fist, it knocked him on the ground and you kept on punching. His face become black and blue and Messy with blood, your knuckles ached but you didn't care.

It took a total of four adults to pry you away from the nearly unconscious boy, but by then you had already lost all cool.

You stopped struggling in their hold and spit on the boy you had just beat to a pulp.

Your breathing was irratic and it became very clear to everyone that you were extremely unstable. You caught your breath and spoke down darkly to the boy who cried out in pain. He spotted you stepping one step closer and backed up out of fear.

"If you, or anyone else is this god dam town, ever speak bad about Carl ever again. Your gonna wish your sorry asses became walkers after i'm through with you! Do you FUCKING HEAR ME??"

The boy nodded vigorously as more and more people came over to stare at you with fear.

You yanked your arms away from the men and everyone backed up and cleared you a path as you turned around to go back to you and Carl's room.

You made it up there and slammed the door and began pacing back and forth. You were so Pumped with adrenaline that you didn't even notice the empty bed where Carl laid before.

The door swung open and in came a seething Daryl, followed by a worried Glenn and a Very Concerned Maggie.

Daryl came over to stand infront of you and you mean mugged him. He gave you a harsh push and you feel backwards into a chair.

Maggie and Glenn both Yelled but their cries went Unheard by the both of you. You death gripped the arm rests of the chair you sat in as you glared up at the yelling Man that had became your father figure over the course of this apocalypse.

"I told your ass to take a walk! Not Pumble some kids face in! Now That kids gonna need Stitches that we don't have Just because you couldn't control your Anger over some Dam words! Now I heard what them kids said to you, what they said about Carl. But what if That dam wanna be president decided to Kick you out because you beat up some kid they thought was innocent?! You don't think before you Hit! And we can't have that type of stupidity in this world! Get your fuckin' act together! Or you're gonna be in some deep fuckin' shit."

He left off with those words and left behind a shaking and teary eyed child on the Chair. Your leg bounced rapidly as tears fell from your eyes but no sound came out.

You didn't know any other way to let out what you were feeling besides violence. It was your only option given that Carl wasn't in a good shape to calm you down like he usually would.

You were unknowingly left alone in the room and that left you with your thoughts. You stood up and began throwing, kicking and breaking everything and anything in the room that could be thrown kicked or broken.

You continued until another voice entered the room, another voice you hadn't heard in a long time.

"Y/n..?"

You spun around and anyone could tell just by looking at you that you were not okay.

Your eye bags as eye bags, your hair was widely unkept, your knuckles bled from throwing things, hitting things and beating the shit out of kids and unsuspecting walkers. You shook with every breath you let out, and your voice was raw from yelling into your pillow with Sobs you couldn't control.

Carl Slowly made his way into the room as he carefully walked to you like you were Fine China. He stopped right in front of you and then suddenly encased your form.

You stood there for a few seconds, asking yourself in your loud head 'was this real?'

But as you felt the heat off his skin, the soft melancholy beat of his heart. And his soft But ragged breaths. You knew your boyfriend was real.

You slowly encased his body and you couldn't stop the tears from falling down your face. You began sobbing, wetting his shirt like it was raining from the clouds.

Your loud sobs shook the house that you both occupied but You didn't care. Your throat became dryer and dryer and you sobs grew raspy as you clutched Carl Closer to your body.

You were a broken record falling apart without the other half that was the love of you life. Carl rubbed your back and whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

You continued to sob until you couldn't anymore. Your legs grew tired as your body grew heavy, you hadn't slept in days. And it was evident on your face.

His big hands cupped your face and used the pads of his thumb to wipe away any stray tears from your eyes, your hurt and abused soul seethed through your eyes and he could see what you had been going through with just a glance at your tear stained face.

He kissed your tears away with his chapped lips and your eyes fluttered closed. Your breathing leveled out after crying for hours in his shoulder. He grabbed your hand and led you over to the bed.

He laid down in the spot he had been for weeks and you laid on top of him. You looked into eachothers eyes until you couldn't keep them open anymore.

The two of you fell asleep to the sounds of each others breathing.

You knew you would have to deal with the consequences of what you had done, but you could deal with them later.

Now? The two puzzles peices had finally clicked back together where they belonged, and as long as you had Carl. You didn't care what was next. As long as whatever it was, was beside him.

HIIII, this chapter is kinda sad, sadder then I usually write at least, and this had more reader then Carl so I'm sorry about that but I really hope you guys enjoyed this, and if you wanna see more of Mr grimes please request and I'll get back to you :3

[oneforthemunny]

YAY MY FIRST TIME DOING THIS GAME!!!

Rockstar!eddie, rehab, angst (because I have been think of this concept all day)

starting the day off strong with some angst! tw bc it does mention drug abuse and some darker kinda themes.

"Eddie Munson," Eddie looked up from the guitar he'd been strumming towards the nurse- no, the holistic helper at the door. They didn't use words like that here, not at this rehab.

"You have a visitor here." She nodded, giving a soft smile.

Eddie set the guitar down, tucking the pick back between the strings, following the woman down the long hallway of the center. The music room was where he spent most of his time these days. He'd tried hiking and the spa once he'd finished detox, but always came back there- his own oasis in his own personal hell.

"We're going to go back to your room for this meeting, if that's alright with you, Eddie." The nurse smiled gently.

"Fine with me." Eddie grumbled, his shoulders feeling heavier and heavier with each passing step.

Ninety days, it's what he agreed to. He felt better after twenty, but he'd finish it out- for you, for your girls, his family that he'd fucked selfishly. His stomach turned at the thought.

"And, there's no limit on this visit today." The nurse stopped before she opened the door. "So no need to feel pressured to rush."

Eddie's brows furrowed. It was Gareth, maybe Jeff, he knew it was. They were the only ones who came to visit him anyways. Still, he grumbled in response, turning the knob to his room. It was nice, a private suite that felt more like a hotel room than the prison cell it'd become.

"Hey, man, didn't know you were coming by today. I've been working on some stuf-" Eddie's breath hitched, falling flat in the air when he turned.

It felt nearly like a mirage, like he might have been dreaming, hallucinating that you were here. Here, on his bed, sitting too rigidly to be comfortable, arms wrapped around yourself.

"Working on stuff?" You hummed, eyes barely meeting his and he didn't miss the way you swallowed. "What kind of stuff?"

"Y-You're here?" Eddie croaked, shutting the door with a harsh snap. "Wha-What are you doin' here, baby?" Every bit of his being screamed to hug you, hands tingling and twitching- itching to feel you, to hold you.

You shifted uncomfortably, finger running over your ring finger out of habit. Eddie nearly threw up when he saw you'd gone without your ring, he wondered how long ago you'd stopped wearing it.

"Um, Gareth came by the other day to see the girls." Your eyes cut to Eddie at the mention of them, how his face nearly crumbled at the thought. "He told me you'd been doing much better. Told me you were scared straight."

"Yeah." Eddie nodded. He was frozen, unable to move, so he stood in the doorway. "I am. I-I..." There was a million things Eddie wanted to say. He wanted to drop to his knees, beg for your forgiveness, for mercy, for anything.

"He," Your voice cracked, turning your head politely to the side to compose yourself. So prim and proper, Eddie's heart leapt at the action- he'd missed it so fucking much.

"He also brought me your letter." Your lip wobbled at the mention, pressing them tightly together to keep yourself from bursting into tears. Ten pages, front to back, with scribbling, tear soaked, inked ramblings about his feelings- poured his heart out onto those pages. Everything he'd ever wanted to say in his entire life, there on those pages, his whole bleeding heart.

"He did." Eddie sounded relieved, shoulders slumping, rounding with the weight of everything he'd kept in for so long.

You nodded slowly, watching him carefully from your own perch. "The girls made you some things." Your voice shook with your hands when you reached in your bag, piles of drawing and scribbles they'd made for Eddie.

Eddie looked at the colorful papers, just a glimpse in your hand, choking on a sob that was tearing mercilessly through his chest. "I, um, I didn't bring them today." You barely met Eddie's eyes, hand smoothing over the construction paper. "I didn't think you'd want them to see you like this."

"No," Eddie shook his head, tears falling down his stubbled cheeks. "No, I-I don't. Thank you."

The air was thick between the two of you, an unsure uncomfortable feeling that left you both on ease. Eddie finally sobbed when your hand brushed his, passing the drawings to him.

"I'm-I'm so sorry." Eddie broke, teeth gritted, trying to swallow back his own cries, hand holding yours tightly. "I don't-I don't know why I-I fucking did that. Why I did it to you, a-and to the girls, and fuck- I don't know why-" Eddie's sobs choked his words.

You knew you shouldn't have, that you should have stood strong, colder and meaner. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but you couldn't- not when your own heart was shattering all over again. So you held him, arms wrapped around his torso, body moving towards his in that familiar way. Your puzzle piece, you two fit so well. His arms hugging you tightly, nearly crushing you into his chest like he wanted you to fuse to him. Eddie's face pressed to your head, wetting your scalp with his tears, nose rubbing into your skin babbling apologies over and over again, promises that he would keep, that you hoped he would.

[differenteagletragedy]

No thoughts, just Our Life Swap AU.

A couple of days ago someone requested a swap AU in which Baxter is MC's neighbor, Cove is the friend who lives in the city and Derek is the boy who stays for the summer and I have not been the same since.

Here is the first thing I wrote about it, and here is another!

"Do you know what RV stands for?"

"Yes, Baxter."

"I believe you may think you do -- a common misunderstanding is that it stands for 'recreational vehicle.' In reality --"

"Shut it, little boy," Liz called down from the loft.

You smiled at Baxter, and he returned it. You were in an RV that your moms had rented, headed for a quick camping trip to Redwood National Park. You and your best friend were sitting on the couch in the little living area of the vehicle while your moms were up front, taking turns driving.

Baxter had been making up stories to pass the time, and it seemed that Liz had heard one too many.

"My apologies, Elizabeth," he called up to her. "I forgot you don't care for whimsy or fun anymore."

"Why are you even here?" she replied.

He had been in good spirits, chatting away, but that seemed to have brought him down. He shot a quick smile at you, then looked away.

Your parents had invited him along -- after five years of the two of you being nearly inseparable, he was often invited to family outings. Your moms always made sure to include him too because his own parents weren't the kindest people.

At first, Baxter's parents had refused. They didn't like your moms, for some reason you'd never been able to figure out. Luckily, a business trip came up for his father and they decided to give in to his relentless requests to accompany you, knowing that their only child could make things difficult if he wanted. It was easier for them not to deal with him on the trip.

Their loss, you thought.

Before he could get too lost in thought, you leaned over and nudged his shoulder. He nudged you back, a smirk reappearing.

"Don't mind Liz," you told him quietly. "You're here because you belong here."

His smirk turned into a full-on beam.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That night, you'd arrived to your camping spot at the park, but it was too dark to explore. But the next morning, bright and early, the five of you went out to see the sights.

Your moms led the easy hike on one of the trails, and Liz wandered behind them. You and Baxter brought up the rear.

"This is amazing," he said in genuine awe, looking up at the trees. Every once in a while, he would pull his attention away from the scenery to look at you warmly.

"Was it like this in your old town?" you asked. You knew he'd lived in Oregon before moving to Sunset Bird, and he'd talked about missing the trees.

"No, not quite," he answered. "There were forests, but nothing like this."

Before you could say anything else, Liz fell back to walk in line with you. You gave a preemptive eyeroll.

"Is this up to your standards, rich boy?" she teased.

"I'm having a very nice time," he replied. And it was true -- too nice a time to start his usual bickering with your sister.

"Good," she said. "Because once you officially join the family, this is the kind of sickening wholesomeness you're in for."

"I could think of worse fates," he told her, shooting you a glance.

You'd been nursing a crush on Baxter for a while now, and comments like that made you think sometimes that he had a crush on you, too. It was almost enough to make you say something, but your sister's teasing would really turn relentless then.

Liz hung back, teasing you for a while longer before getting bored and going back up to your moms. After a few hours, with a lunch break tossed in, the hike was over and you were back at the RV.

Your sister promptly went inside and shut the door behind her. Your moms laughed, but then Baxter approached them.

"I was wondering if it would be all right if we went on another short walk," he said, looking back at you. "Not too far, and I'll be sure we're back well before dark."

They had a moment of silent communication, then you saw your ma give a slight nod.

"All right, but not too far," Mom said. "And stay on the trail."

"Absolutely," Baxter said. He held his arm out to you, and you took it. Then you were off.

"Why did you want to come back out?" you asked, trying to sound casual even though you were buzzing with excitement. You tried to keep the hand that held onto his arm steady.

"I thought it was too nice of a day to end so quickly," he said. "I wanted more time out here. More time with you."

You blushed, and he smiled fondly at you.

"Why do you say stuff like that?" you asked before you could reconsider.

"Why wouldn't I?" He seemed genuinely confused. "It's lovely here. You're a lovely person." He leaned closer to your ear and said, "My favorite person, actually."

Your cheeks grew hotter.

Baxter laughed, then said, "You're also adorable."

It was a little forward, even for him, so you decided to take the opportunity to bring up something you'd been wondering about for a while.

"Can I ask you something?" you began.

"Always."

"Why haven't you dated anyone?"

He didn't say anything right away, and you didn't have the nerve to look at him. But out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw his own cheeks turning pink.

"I was just wondering," you added, "since you sort of flirt with everybody all the time."

"Do I?" he asked with a laugh. You did give him a look then, and he said, "I don't actually, you know. Not at school."

"Really?"

"Really."

It was your turn to pause. He went to a private school while you went to the public one, but you'd just assumed he was the same way with everyone else that he was with you.

"I'm polite," he explained. "I try to be friendly. I can't help being a little bold. But I don't ... you're the only one who gets this version of me."

You were trying to figure out how to respond, but nothing came. Your thoughts were racing with this new revelation, and before you could say anything, he stopped.

"It'll be getting dark soon," he said. "Time to go."

Baxter turned around, making a show out of offering you his other arm, and you laughed as you took it. Perhaps sensing the tailspin he'd put you in, he went back to joking around for the rest of the walk back to the campsite.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After a fun evening with your family around the campfire, it was time for bed. Your moms went back to the bedroom, Liz stretched out on the couch and Baxter spread out his sleeping bag on the floor while you climbed up in the loft.

You tried to go to sleep, but your thoughts were still racing over everything Baxter had said. After a while, when you heard Liz's soft snores get into a steady rhythm, you peeked over the edge of the loft to see what your friend was doing.

You knew he was a night owl, and so you weren't surprised to see him lying on his stomach, reading a book he'd brought with him in the bright moonlight that filtered in through the windows. But you didn't expect him to look up at you just as you'd started watching him.

"Go to sleep," he mouthed at you, grinning.

"You first," you mouthed back.

He gracefully pulled himself out of his sleeping bag and slinked over to the ladder to the loft. He climbed it so that he was eye level with you, and said, "Can't sleep?"

"Doesn't seem so."

"Would you like some company?"

You gave him a confused look. He smiled softly and told you, "I'll tell you a bedtime story."

Intrigued, you scooted back against the wall, making room for him. He climbed under the blankets, laid out on his side, folding his arm under his head for a pillow, and started telling his story.

It was complete nonsense, as most of his stories were. There was something about mountain lions, and Bigfoot made an appearance. But as he went on, trying his best to make you laugh, he kept inching closer to you. A few times you were bold enough to do the same, and by the end you were pressed close.

"Can you sleep now?" he asked, his face just inches from yours.

"I can try."

[ladylaviniya]

AVATAR: THE NEW MISSION

|| Masterlist || Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: From a sweet little game to a total nightmare, you will do whatever it will take to protect the children, even face monsters.

Pairing: Recom!Miles Quaritch X Na'vi Reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, Colonisation, Weapons, Death Threats, Coercive Control.

Author Notes: Hi everyone! Life has been crazy but I finally got around to rewriting/editing The New Mission. I will post a new chapter once a week every Tuesday @ 3pm AEST

Inspiring Song: "Cosmic Love" By Florence & The Machine.

As Miles slowly opened his eyes, he was immediately met with a strange feeling of displacement. The bed beneath him felt unfamiliar, and as he sat up, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored window panel across the room. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of his own reflection – the now distinctly blue skin and unfamiliar features staring back at him were both fascinating and disconcerting. For a moment, he had to remind himself that this was not a nightmare, but reality.

Waking up in a different body is always difficult. Well that’s what people with a second chance can say. Miles felt this was a curse at first. He hated how every time to passed a window panel the reflection of blue skin made him want to shoot it.

He hated how he had to crouch under door ways to get into the next room. Most of all he hated the way he was stared at. He thought back on his former human form, when people looked upon him with respect because of his rank and the battle-earned scar that marked his resilience. But now, it was different – people didn’t admire him for his achievements; instead, they gawked at him like some sort of aberration, a living testament to their ungodly science. Miles sat and pondered briefly...had the human race gone too far.

It came and went out of his mind just as quickly, consumed by the bitterness of why and how he came to be in this clone flesh suit he hated.

Confronting Jake Sully proved to be a rushed decision on Miles’s part, as his months spent with Spider had done little to equip him with ample knowledge about Pandora. He was, in essence, a greenhorn in this alien world, and the enormity of his possible failure dawned upon him with stark clarity. Miles was aware that his performance would have far-reaching consequences, not just for himself, but for his standing within the RDA.

The ride back on his Ikran was an ordeal, especially after the grueling battle fought on the fringes of Awa’atlu. He had nearly slid off the creature’s back twice due to his battered state. Arriving back at base, Miles was consumed by a mix of shame and anger, and he was promptly escorted to the medical tent to rest and heal. Weeks passed as he recuperated, until the shrill voice of the General invaded his solitude, a sound that brought a wave of uneasiness to him.

The General, standing on a stool to address the hospitalized Colonel, spoke with a chilling tone, her words sharp as a blade. “I granted you the opportunity to seek revenge, Colonel,” she began, her hand lightly resting on the bedside railing, “yet you have disappointed me. Your mission was straightforward – hunt and execute Jake Sully for his alleged crimes of terrorism and treason. But from what your team has revealed, your pursuit was anything but focused. Instead, you chose to chase after his children, wasting time and resources. Simply putting it Colonel, you fucked around.”

He longed to lash out, to tell her where she could shove her condescending attitude in a place where ‘The sun don’t shine.’. After all, here he was, nursing a broken rib, a split lip, a chipped tooth, a concussion, and a near-drowning experience, and she had the audacity to come down to the infirmary and give him an earful? It was clear as day that they needed him, yet now they were treating him like yesterday’s trash.

“General,” he began, forcing a strained smile even as he slowly sat up, disregarding the protests of the monitors and wires attached to his body. “If I may explain, my choice to pursue Sully’s children was a deliberate tactic. I intended to use them as hostages, to entice him out of hiding.” With a purposeful motion, he pinched off the heart monitor and swiftly removed the remaining cords that tracked his health. The machines worried and beeped loudly, attracting the attention of doctors and nurses. He rose to his feet slowly and bent at his hips to look down at her.

The General instinctively took a step back, taken aback by the imposing figure of the Colonel standing before her. Despite his injuries, his height and stature were intimidating, and she instinctively swallowed, her composure faltering momentarily. “Colonel,” she continued, her tone measured, “I regret to say that this incident has demonstrated a lack of confidence in your ability to carry out the mission effectively.”

Quaritch’s brows furrowed, his anger mounting within him, causing him to clench his teeth in frustration. But instead of lashing out, he nodded with resignation, his acceptance of her words thinly veiled. He would not succumb to the savage hissing urge building up in his throat.

The General let out a weary sigh, her gaze fixed on him. “I can’t afford to jeopardize more lives for your failings,” she stated firmly. “Consider yourself lucky that I haven’t demoted you or worse, discharged you from service.”

Quaritch’s eyes widened and his ears flattened in surprise at her words. He couldn’t help but retort sarcastically, “Discharging me, eh? Wouldn’t be much point in sending me back to Earth though, would there? Might as well stick me in the kitchens. Blue Shrimp! Order up!” he flashed his smiling canines down at her, they were gritting tightly. It took the power of whatever he called a god to not throttle the bitch.

The General’s nostrils flared, and she slammed her hands on the bed rail, her voice sharp. “One more smart remark from you, Colonel, and I’ll throw you out of this camp without a second thought.” Quaritch rolled his eyes in response, his patience wearing thin. Without another word, he stormed out of the medical room, clad in his scrub dress, determined to leave the infirmary behind.

Quaritch heard the General’s command echoing in his wake, “You haven’t been dismissed, Colonel!” He paused, the weight of her words and the eyes on him forcing him to consider her directive. But did he really care? No. Yet he remembered the gazes of the nurses, other patients, and the armed men standing guard – their stares burning into him, reminding him that he was nothing more than a freak, a monster, a clone of some nightmarish alien creation. What respect did he have left coming from them?

Quaritch whirled around, crouching down to meet the General’s eye level. He forced a smirk, and in a mocking tone, he inquired, “May I be dismissed, General?”

The General returned his smile with a sly one of her own, “No,” she replied, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re going to hear to your newest mission.”

Quaritch’s breath caught in his throat at her words. “New mission?” he echoed, his voice betraying a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. He truly thought he was done for with the walls caving in. He was being given a chance, again. This one he didn’t want to fuck up.

    Sitting comfortably on the plush grass, you listened intently to the sound of muffled giggles emanating from the trees above. Your little brother Häewip and his best friend Rìngeay were engaged in a playful game of stalk-and-catch, but it was abundantly clear that they were dreadful at it. Their giggles echoed through the foliage, their hiding spots easily detectable.

You chuckled, recalling fond memories from your childhood. This game was a favourite pastime, meant to teach youngsters the art of stealth, concealment, and stalking their quarry. Young Häewip and Rìngeay had pleaded to be the ones to hide while you took on the role of the hunter, and you always obliged, knowing that they cherished these moments together.

Ah, the memories brought a smirk to your face. You never lost this game, even as a child, always skilfully evading detection whenever it was your turn to hide. And when you were the one doing the seeking, your younger siblings and friends could never find you. After hours of playtime and gathering fruits and meat for the village, you decided to play one final game before returning home.

Finding Rìngeay was easy; her red tail guard stood out against the yellow petals of the tsyorina’wll flowers, giving away her position.

Dropping silently into the soft moss and grass, you crouched, your smile widening. The sound of their giggles meant they could still catch glimpses of you, but you knew you had to hide and stalk even more covertly. With quiet precision, you reached for the riata tied to your thigh, navigating silently through the foliage and vines. Every step was calculated, ensuring not a sound escaped your presence.

With a swift, feline-like motion, you moved around the base of a sturdy tree, adhering to its bark and beginning your ascent up its sturdy trunk. Unseen from the children’s view, you continued climbing, your slender frame blending seamlessly with the foliage. As you ascended higher, you keenly overheard their heated debate – arguing whether you were concealed behind the surrounding tsyorina’wlls or the paywlls nearby.

Unseen, you surpassed them, nimbly ducking to avoid their flicking tails as you continued your climb. As you ascended higher and higher, you finally positioned yourself just above the pair, ensuring they remained oblivious to your position. A swift flick of your wrist and a deft swing sent the lasso loop hurtling towards them, ensnaring them firmly in the air. Their screams of shock echoed through the clearing, only to be overshadowed by your joyful cackles and laughter.

“Taronyut yom smarìl! Hehehe!” The prey eats the hunter; everything possible that can go wrong does! Hehehe!

Your fingers dug and danced over their sensitive skin making them shriek with laughter.

Rìngeay cried with laughter as she was attacked with tickles while she was still bound in the tether, “Ftang! [Y/N]! Ftang!” Stop! [Y/N]! Stop! Laughing tears filled in her eyes.

You turned to smother kisses and tiny bites over Häewip little arms and cheek. He too begged for mercy with a smile before you spat out the tip of his pointed ears with a “Ftxìvä’” Yuck!

Their playful attempts to resist your victorious gloating were thwarted as they promptly wriggled out of their bindings and tackled you with a barrage of affectionate hugs. Laughter rang through the forest air, filling the space with joyful abandon. The three of you took a moment to catch your breaths before settling back against the sturdy branches of the tree. The game had been a much-needed respite, a temporary diversion from the anxieties waiting back at home.

The gentle warmth of the breeze enveloped you, its caress a soothing touch against your skin. The sweat trickling down your forehead spoke of an impending rain, as the humidity had slowly been building throughout the past several days, culminating in this humid day. The soil beneath you felt parched, yearning for a refreshing drink. The feeling was strangely familiar – you sympathized with the great mother, feeling just as exhausted and longing for a fresh change in your life, yet uncertain about the path you were expected to tread.

“Tsmuke?” Sister? Häewip suddenly asked.

“Sran?” Yes?

With a pleading look in his big, yellow eyes, he asked, “Fta si tswin rutxe oeyä?” Please retie my queue braid? A fond smile tugged at your lips, for this was a familiar routine. Despite growing older, he still sought your help, asserting that you could tie it just right – not too tight, yet not loose enough for it to come undone easily.

You let out a soft sigh, gesturing to the space between your legs. “Za’u,” Come, you instructed, signaling where he should settle.

Rìngeay swiftly crawled over, joining her friend, both eager for you to tighten their braids. As she waited her turn, she took the initiative and utilized your lasso to hoist the sack of freshly hunted meat up towards you all. She knew all too well the importance of safeguarding the fruits of your labor, ensuring no lurking animals could snatch them away. After all, hunting effectively with only a knife was no easy feat. Your mother had strictly forbidden you to use a bow for hunting, and her word was law.

‘Häewip is getting taller everyday now,’ you thought to yourself as you realised where he head sat and how high you had to lift your arms now to carefully braid his long black mane around his queue.

It had been only nine wet seasons ago that you sat beside the birth of your brother. Your mother’s weeping and her joy at a son. The joy your father had, picking you up on his shoulders so you could have a better look at the wet ball that was of newborn Häewip. You wondered how you must’ve looked twenty wet seasons ago. Perhaps just the same.

Häewip was growing more confident and ambitious, dreaming of becoming a warrior just like your cousin, Rawm. You silently hoped that he would never emulate Rawm’s recklessness and ride out into a storm, only to be struck by lightning. Fortunately, the chances of that happening seemed slight, as more often than not, Häewip was practically attached at the hip to Rìngeay, his unwavering companion. Although they were the same age, Rìngeay seemed to consistently adhere to the village curfew, unlike your more daring brother. When you inquired about her dreams, she would blush and shyly admit her ambition to being that of the wife to a great warrior. You wondered if it was her own little heart that held the nobility of a warrior instead.

Finishing the last strand in Rìngeay’s hair you suggested to the two younger na’vi, “Pxoe kelku kivä ko,” Let’s All Go home.

And they agreed. The distance was far and if they didn’t get home before the sun hid beneath the mountains it would be your head.

You reckoned somehow it would not matter anyway because today you had been disobedient...

You were supposed to be diligently gathering utumauti and pixayzekwä berries, preparing to simmer them into a hot boil to create a wine for your impending marriage ceremony to Pukxaw – a warrior Na’vi of another tribe.

The thought of your mother’s furious reaction upon your return to Greenhome filled you with dread. Her wrath would be intense, and your ears would undoubtedly be in danger once you faced her.

As you traversed the familiar path back home, your younger companions sprinted ahead, effortlessly leaping over logs and foliage. A warm smile tugged at your lips, as you silently hoped that the great mother would bless your future with children as exuberantly happy as them. However, your thoughts briefly strayed to your intended mate, Pukxaw. You secretly wished for a spouse far better than him.

Pukxaw was a warrior Na’vi from the Anurai clan. He was tall, thin and nearing his elder years, and his personality matched his appearance – he was a dull and stoic Na’vi with little patience. He enjoyed hunting, but your scholarly vows restricted you from using a bow, this seemed to irk him when you meet him at the last clan gathering. To your surprise, once the decision was made for your clans’ mating agreement, you found yourself utterly shocked at the prospect of being bonded with such a bland and unappealing individual.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Ewya, the great mother herself, would have bestowed upon you a mate who possessed patience and the ability to communicate effectively. You longed for a mate who possessed a genuine sense of humour and one who could provide the comfort of a warm embrace when needed. Someone who, above all else, would graciously listen to your thoughts about your people’s rich history. The prospect of being eternally bound to a reserved and disrespectful mate who solely provided you with skins for your labor seemed utterly unappealing.

Glancing over at the grazing Yerik, you immediately noticed a shift in their behavior. They had halted their movements, their eyes fixated in a particular direction. As a show of respect, you lowered your head, but to your growing concern, they continued their unwavering stare. Something felt amiss in the air – the wind turned chilly, and an eerie silence enveloped the surroundings. Your eyes widened as you wondered, ‘Why is it so quiet? Where are the children?’

Panicked, you frantically scanned your surroundings, but your brother and Rìngeay were nowhere to be seen.

“Tsmuke! Srungsi!” Sister help! You heard Häewip scream in the distance. Your heart sank like a stone, and a wave of dread washed over you. They were in danger!

Dropping the sack of meat you sprinted ahead and screamed back, “Tsmukan!” Brother!

You strained your ears intently, hoping for a response, but all you heard were the terrified cries of the two young ones.

With the riata clenched tightly in one hand and the dagger in the other, you prepared yourself for whatever might await you. Realizing you would have to engage the threat at close range, you cautiously advanced towards the source of the whimpering and crying.

As you got closer, the voices grew louder, and a wave of worry washed over you. Regret stirred within you for taking them so far away from safety.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and a cold shiver ran down your spine. Standing before you was a group of individuals unlike any you had ever seen before – no, they were not Na’vi. These were aliens from the stars, the dreaded Uniltìrantokx. Their unusual attire and strange, indecipherable speech sent a chill through your body.

Your heart squeezed tightly as you remembered the dark days of the war, the great battle – a tragic period that had befallen on Pandora fifteen wet seasons ago. The horrors and terror of that day still lingered, leaving emotional scars upon your soul.

Your heart sank further at the excited sound of a female Uniltìrantokx’ voice through the air. “Colonel, look at what we just found, two little blue rats!”

A surge of protectiveness flared within you, watching Häewip bravely threaten the aliens with dire consequences if they harmed “his” Rìngeay. However, his brave act earned him a sharp slap in the face from another Uniltìrantokx. Indignantly, your lip curled in anger at the sight, and a fierce determination surged through you as you plotted to make the offending alien pay for laying a hand on your loved ones.

Your nimble fingers hovered anxiously over the dagger’s hilt, contemplating your next actions. This was unprecedented; you had never confronted such a large number of foes before. Truthfully, fear and uncertainty gnawed at your thoughts, leaving you questioning your ability to overpower them all.

Retreating to Greenhome for help was not an option; the distance would be too great to cover in time. You would have to rely on your own skills and bravery to free your loved ones, and hope that a hasty escape would be possible. The plan was risky, but it was all you had at the moment.

The Uniltìrantokx held sinister-looking tools in their grasp – their dreaded guns. Memories of Toruk Makto, the legendary leader of the Omatikaya, sending these fearsome creatures away flickered through your mind. Rumors had circulated about their potential return to Pandora, yet you had always dismissed them as mere tales to frighten the children before bedtime.

The individual known as the Colonel responded in a dismissive tone, “Just our luck, Walker,” as he swatted away a bug that had landed on his shoulder. He surveyed the surroundings once more, his hand touching his neck, and spoke into a communication device, “Blue Bird, come in. We have what we need. Bring the chopper over here, pronto!”

His eyes scanned the trees and bushes and then he saw it…a whisp of blue. He smirked, he wasn’t surprised these kids would be all alone and so far from their village. This was exactly what he needed… an adult. He saw your numb expression in the bushes, devising an attack. His gaze met yours, and a sinister smile played upon his lips as he aimed his gun directly at you.

“Well hello, hello- Now, why don’t you come out and join us, friend?!” He spat and licked his canines chuckling, “we ain’t gonna hurt ya!”

Your grip on your knife tightened as you cautiously rose from the brush, your heart pounding in your chest. The Colonel gestured toward you, beckoning you closer, his weapon still pointing in your direction. You inched toward the group, and he observed your eyes nervously flicker between all five of the Recom. His smile turned predatory as he noticed your trembling hands and strained tail. He perceived you as an easy target, assuming your fear would render you vulnerable and helpless.

With a calm yet firm voice, you called out, “Lonu fo,” Release them.

Your footsteps moved cautiously around the group, your knife held firmly in your grasp. The Recom knew that your weapon was no match against their bullets. He had already devised plans for you, viewing you as a perfect addition to their plans in store

“Mefo eveng,” they are children, you pleaded, attempting to negotiate with the Colonel. Your body language – the tilting of your head and shrinking of your stance – was a clear sign of your surrender and willingness to cooperate. You desperately hoped that it would evoke a sense of mercy within these creatures, these pretenders.

The Colonel quickly realized that you were relinquishing control, and he noted your worried glances toward the rowdy boy and whimpering girl. He couldn’t help but speculate about you ‘Is she the mother of these two kids?’

 Rìngeay shouted out your name.

“Shut it!” the Uniltìrantokx who was holding her to her knees yelled causing the poor girl to start sobbing in fear.

The Colonel was not surprised seeing how your nostril flared and teeth bared like a wild cat.

He scowled, “Nga kem si ìnglìsì tslam?” Do you understand English?

Your breath came hard and fast, betraying your fear. He advanced toward you, his gun still aimed in your direction, but it was now resting on his hip, rather than held at the ready. He casually scrutinized you from head to toe, his eyes taking in every detail.

“Well?” He drawled.

Your gaze flickered between the children and the Colonel, your heart pounding in your chest. You took a deep breath before uttering, “Let. Them. Go.” The words tasted foreign on your tongue, your mind racing to recall the right terms in English.

A sly smile formed on the Colonel’s face as he revelled in your broken English.

“Let them go,” he mimicked, his voice dripping with condescension. He was taken aback as he felt the cold blade of your dagger pressed firmly against his skin. Clearly, you did not appreciate his attempt at humour. He stared into your eyes, which had widened with anger, and observed the way your teeth were beginning to bare intensely.

“Let them go- now,” You said fluently, “or I take all your lives.”

He admired your confidence. The sound of guns cocking surrounded you both. He huffed softly from the cold bite that came from your dagger.

“You alright boss? This bitch moves we’ll smoke her.”

The Colonel could clearly see the rage burning in your eyes. He recognized the determined glint in your gaze and knew that you were not about to back down. His own golden eyes flickered, betraying his surprise at your fierce perseverance, he grunted, “Stand down. Release the brats. We don’t need ‘em.”

The other interrogators exchanged puzzled glances, clearly unsure of how to react to this unexpected turn of events.

Meanwhile, the Colonel watched with amusement as a look of relief washed over your face when he ordered his companions to release the children.

Your voice rang out, filled with urgency, “Nìwin! Hifwo! Hum! Kä!” Quickly flee! Leave! Go!, you shrieked at the children, urging them to flee to safety.

Your eyes remained locked on the Colonel, listening as the sound of the children’s footsteps faded into the distance as they raced away. The Colonel contemplated sending some of his men after them, back to their village, but he quickly realized the suicide in doing so.

With a pained expression, he felt the sharp blade of your weapon press against his skin, causing a small knick. You hastily pulled back, a look of realization and remorse on your face. In a soft voice, you whispered, “Thankyou.”

He was now impressed by your english and knew what he had to finish today,

He smirked, “You’re a polite one aren’t ya?”

The Colonel couldn’t help but be impressed by your improved command of the English language, but he knew that there was still work to be done.

Suddenly, an Uniltìrantokx stepped up behind you and forcefully twisted your wrist, forcing you to drop your weapon. You cried out in pain as you were struck in the face with the butt of a gun, knocking you to the ground. Blood trickled from an open wound on your forehead, and you instinctively covered your injured eye.

In a swift motion, the Colonel dropped to his knees and forcefully pinned you onto your stomach, restraining your flailing body as you cried out in agony. He cruelly stepped on your tail, intensifying your pain and causing you to howl in torment. Despite your struggle, you frantically tried to claw at his arm, desperate for liberation. A sharp jab pierced your lower back just above your tail, leaving you writhing in pain.

As his grip loosened, you wasted no time in scrambling to escape. You managed to push passed the Colonel and sprinted beyond the tree line, urgently pursuing Häewip and Rìngeay.

The sound of the Colonel’s feet pounding behind you echoed through the forest, filling you with a chilling sense of fear. Your legs and tail throbbed with pain from the numerous scrapes and cuts that littered your body. All you wanted was to reach the safety of home as soon as possible.

With every nimble move, you dodged branches, ducked under hanging limbs, and scrambled across fallen logs, but his relentless pursuit continued to gain on you. Your weary legs grew increasingly numb and your back started to ache from the arduous run.

As you forced yourself to keep moving, your body felt heavier with every step. You were overwhelmed by a wave of nausea and exhaustion, your stomach feeling like it was weighed down by an invisible burden. Unable to continue any longer, you slowed to a stop, preparing to vomit, but instead, you collapsed onto your hands and knees.

With trembling limbs, you tried desperately to crawl away from the approaching footsteps of the Colonel above. Your fingers felt distant and disconnected, while your head buzzed with a dizzying sensation. You emitted a weak cry and tumbled headfirst into a patch of slippery mud.

The figure above you started to move and became a dozen shadows, his voice filled your ears, “Going somewhere sweetheart?”

Your vision grew hazy and your eyelids felt heavy, making it impossible to open them anymore. In your disoriented state, you could only hope that Häewip and Rìngeay had safely returned to the villages.

The Colonel’s lips curled into a sinister smirk as he looked down at your drugged and unconscious form. With ease, he hoisted your body over his shoulder, carrying you effortlessly toward the waiting helicopter.

  To Be Continued....

★HELPLINES★

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[bloodstainedsaint]

rumors and gossip (ronald speirs x nurse! reader smut)

summary: (takes place around episodes 2 and 3) ronald speirs has trouble expressing his feelings towards you. when he catches wind that you're spreading rumors about him, he gets upset and doesn't exactly know why. but there's only one way he knows how to solve this issue: through action.

word count: 3100+

warnings: SELF-INDULGENT SMUT, reader has female genitalia, abuse of authority (read: speirs likes getting called by his title), degradation, praise, spitting, unprotected sex ("remember boys...flies spread disease, so keep yours closed!"), spanking, rough p in v sex, facefucking, fingering, orgasm denial, mentions speirs being taller than reader for like one second, SOFT SPEIRS AT THE END BC HE HAS A LIL CRUSH

notes: i see your soft speirs and i love him too, but i raise you mean dom speirs (both can exist at once). also i'm sorry in advance

Ronald Speirs didn't know what to make of you.

You, the pretty nurse he kept staring at whenever he’d catch a glimpse of you around base. You, who he often observed diligently treating the many men that came under your care. You, who sometimes met his gaze from across the post with a bashful smile before turning away.

One could say that within Ron, something was brewing towards you. Something that made his heart skip a beat in a manner he hadn't expected war to allow at all. As of recently, however, you began to elicit different feelings in him.

Ron was well-aware of all the rumors and gossip being spread about him. He wasn't oblivious to the fearful way the men looked at him, or, rather, preferred to not look at him. The more people who viewed him as a mean son of a bitch the better, he thought. So he let them circulate without much care, with only a dead glare that reinforced them.

When he heard that you were helping pass on those rumors, telling anyone in need of a good story about how Ronald Speirs, or as he had heard, “Lieutenant Sparky”, had heartlessly killed German POWs after offering them smokes or how he put down one of his own men for being drunk on duty— he was upset. This mystified him: why was he annoyed (or was troubled a better word for his feelings?) when you gossiped and not when any of his men did? It couldn't be that he secretly yearned for your approval; that seemed foolish, too unlike himself…but then again, you made him feel unlike himself on several occasions before.

Ron was a man of action, and he was going to ensure you induced no more bothersome feelings within him by simply giving you something to gossip about.

-

It was late at night when you found yourself alone in the medical station. Every wounded soldier had been relocated to another facility either on base or out of it entirely for some reason or another, leaving you with a number of empty hospital beds and an entire station to yourself. You had told the other nurses to pack in for the night and that you would tidy up by yourself; you didn't mind having something to do while it was finally tranquil in the hospital.

While you replaced bedsheets, you remembered Ronald Speirs glowering at you earlier that day, rather than his usual intense, unreadable stare. You hoped it wasn't because he found out that you were spreading rumors about him, but you suspected it was; really, you had overheard a Private Malarkey talking about Speirs’ supposed actions to a fellow soldier he was visiting, and several more soldiers had told you similar stories about Speirs as you tended to them. When your other patients asked you if you had heard anything juicy, what else were you supposed to tell them?

Behind you was a click of the door opening and closing and a gush of wind, nearly imperceptible enough to keep you in your musing. Expecting to see another nurse or perhaps a soldier who had somehow gotten himself injured in the middle of the night, you turned around and felt your eyebrows raise when you saw the man in question, half-shrouded in darkness by how the moonlight fell upon him.

Still dressed in his fatigues, he stalked over to you with slow, steady steps. He towered over your form, his eyes almost completely covered in the shadow beneath his helmet. The slightest glint you could see of them was cold, and you could almost feel his leer pierce through you. You had never realized his height from all those times you saw him from afar; you’d noticed his good looks instead, though you never wanted to admit that to yourself. Not about the soldier you were spreading such heinous rumors about.

“Lieutenant Speirs?” Your words came out more unsure than you would've liked. You didn’t even know why you were nervous; it's not like you'd done anything particularly wrong— nothing that dozens of men weren’t also doing as well. “Do you need me for something?”

A suffocating silence pervaded the room. For the moment that he didn't respond, instead fixing you with a stony glare, your heart stopped beating in anticipation. You half-expected him to materialize a gun and shoot you on the spot until he finally broke the silence and said blandly, “I've heard you've been spreading rumors about me.”

When you didn’t answer immediately, he stepped closer to you. Willing yourself not to flinch away, you could now fully see the cruel look in his eyes; it didn't help your uneven breathing or your clenched heart.

“Have you?”

You blanched, mouth going dry. “...Yes, sir.”

He tilted his head, carrying on in that unemotional yet somehow soft tone. “Our good little nurse is the one gossiping, huh? That right?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Good little nurse? “I, uh—”

“Answer me,” he demanded, his voice hardening. His calloused fingers reached for you, clenching your cheeks so tight together that your jaw could not move to form words. You slurred your words like a drunk trying to give an intelligible answer.

“Pathetic,” he scoffed. Your eyes widened, and, shamefully, you felt heat rush to your core. Speirs noticed your surprise, and you were sure you weren't hallucinating a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You wanna tell me what you've been saying about me, nurse?”

You could only mumble in response. “What, too scared to say it in front of Sparky himself? I heard you were running your mouth earlier, though.”

You shook your head and uselessly struggled in his unyielding grasp. Bastard.

Gazing down at you for another tense heartbeat, Speirs let go of your face and took off his helmet, placing it on a nearby metal table and revealing his slightly tousled hair. “Get on your knees. Let’s put that mouth to good use.”

Your blood went cold, yet your body felt hot. You must've looked shocked because he sighed and looked at you expectantly.

“Well? Don't keep an officer waiting.”

You blinked dumbly. He gave a command. Who were you to disobey? You thought as you sunk down to your knees, your skirt acting as a barrier between your skin and the rough floor.

“That's what I like to see.” He began unbuckling and unzipping his pants before pulling out his erect member, standing tall, girthy, and swollen at the tip. Your mouth watered at the sight.

Again, you hesitated, looking up at him in disbelief at what was happening. You never expected to be kneeling in front of Ronald Speirs; maybe in the darkest recesses of your mind you fantasized about the Lieutenant doing whatever he pleased to you, but you never expected it to actually happen.

“Nurse, open your mouth now before I take your face and start fucking it.”

You clenched your thighs at the thought, opening your mouth to take his cock in it. You kissed the tip and licked a stripe from the base to the end before slowly enveloping it with your mouth. Ron shuddered at the feeling and put his hand in your hair, petting it with a whispered curse —perhaps he had thought about this exact scenario as much as you had?

You continued to swallow his cock whole as his hand tightened in your hair. You whimpered at the sensation, sending vibrations to his member. He stuttered your name out in response.

As you sped up your steady pace, you looked up at him from underneath your eyelashes, watching as he lost his composure, his chest heaving. “Shit…that's my girl. You're even prettier with your mouth full of my dick. Can't yak as much, can you, nurse?”

A moan slipped out at the unexpected praise, and you let your legs part as you slipped your hands between them and rubbed yourself through your soaked panties, adrenaline coursing through your veins. When Ron’s eyes focused themselves again, he caught the movement and his eyes darkened, no longer glazed over.

“Who said you could touch yourself, nurse?” he gritted out, as if his cock didn't twitch in your mouth at the sight of you pleasuring yourself. The hand in your hair clenched into a fist, but that didn't discourage you; instead, your hand went faster as he started pulling your mouth off his cock and slamming it back in at a punishing rate. You felt drool trickling down your chin, your throat burning. You greedily breathed in air during the brief respites he granted you before brutally shoving his dick down your throat.

When your eyes stopped rolling to the back of your head, you took in his disheveled state and rubbed yourself faster. His hair messy from running his hand through it, his face and a sliver of his chest gleaming with sweat, his barely suppressed deep groans. He looked heavenly compared to his actions.

Abruptly, you were pulled off his cock and placed on your back on the metal table next to his helmet. He hurriedly unbuttoned your nurse uniform, damn near ripping your clothes off of you and throwing them carelessly next to you, until you were bare before him. The cold table chilled your spine, and you arched your back into his wandering hands. In your lust-filled daze, you managed an indignant thought of how unfair it was that you were the only one naked, that his body was being left up to the imagination.

“You ready for me, girl?” He rubbed your clit in tight circles, better than you could've done yourself and better than you could've ever imagined at night, before gauging your wetness with two long fingers plunged deep into your heat.

“That wet from a little roughness?” he smirked. “Our little nurse isn't so innocent after all. Maybe that's why you spread all those rumors about me. You wanted this.”

“N-no, sir—” You gasped, cut short as his fingers quickly found that spongy place within you. You cried out for air as he relentlessly pressed against it with every movement. “That’s, mmh, not true…”

“Can’t understand you, nurse. Can you repeat that?” He said, voice tinged with smug amusement.

Closing your eyes tight, you could only whimper in pitiful reply as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. So close to the precipice of sweet release, you could almost feel yourself stepping off—

But before you could, Speirs pulled his fingers away. You eyes shot open to gape at him in irritation until you saw him slowly bring his slick-coated fingers to his lips and suck them off.

“Did you really think I'd let a little gossiping whore like you come so easily?” He fixed you with a remorseless, sadistic look. You panted, desperation festering within you as he forced your mouth open and spat in it. “Now swallow, and I'll fuck you like you deserve it, nurse.”

You swallowed obediently, yearning for his cock inside you. In an uncharacteristic display of softness, he pressed his lips to yours and whispered against them, “Good girl,” before switching back to the Speirs you knew and roughly flipping your body over so you were bent over the metal table, your tits flush with the frigid surface and your ass on full display to the Lieutenant.

Speirs took a moment to run his hands over your body, grabbing and squeezing at the flesh of your breasts, ass, and thighs, spreading your juices around your sensitive pussy as you tried to wiggle away, overstimulated. Holding your hips so you wouldn't move, he grinded his dick against your heat and teased your hole, his precum mixing with yours. Just as you were about to whine for him to stop teasing and fuck you already, he seemed to grown impatient himself because he slid into you in one fluid motion, punching the air out of your lungs and forcing your walls to stretch around him and accommodate his size.

“Fuck, so tight for me,” he grunted out, his voice hoarse as if it had taken away his breath as well. After a moment of heavy breathing and a squeeze of your hips, he began brutally pummeling into you. You unabashedly let out a high-pitched moan at the pace, and you felt his cock throb inside of you as his name left your lips.

“Quiet, nurse. You want the whole base to know?” he said, out of breath, “Guess that'll give you another story to tell about me, yeah?”

You wanted to rebut this, saying that the lewd slapping noises of skin on skin that filled the room were probably spilling out through the thin walls of the station anyway. Instead, you heaved a breathy, “Yes, Lieutenant,” that had him growling and picking up the pace, your body moving with every thrust. He took your hands, which until then were gripping the table for dear life, and held them together at the wrist with one of his.

The hand still gripping your hip was so firm you felt it was going to leave bruises in the morning. The more pressing issue, though, was how you were going to walk the next day.

“All you needed was some good dick in you to shut you up, huh? What a dirty girl,” he groaned as you clenched around him, “And here I thought you were all innocent, nurse. You wanted this, didn't you? Say it.”

Your cheeks burned red out of embarrassment, and you floundered for words. “N-no, Ron, that’s not—”

You were interrupted by the resounding smack of his hand colliding with your ass and the stinging pain that brought tears to your eyes. Your hands twitched in his grasp.

“When you talk to an officer, you say ‘sir’. Understood?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you breathed out, and he tenderly rubbed the aching skin of your ass, calling you a good girl as he resumed pounding into you. Your heart ached at the praise.

In your fucked-out state where all you could focus on were Speirs’ deep grunts and his cock inside of you, you felt yourself getting pulled by your hair until you were mostly standing with your back pressed against his well-built, sturdy stomach. One arm closed in on your neck so that your throat was in the crook of his elbow while the other hand roamed around your body, pinching and kneading as it went, until it settled at groping your breasts.

The new angle allowed him to thrust deeper into you, so deep that you could almost feel him in your throat. Tears that had welled up in your eyes freely fell thanks to the restriction of air. When his hand moved downward from your breasts to your lower stomach, pressing down upon it, the pressure and fullness of his dick inside you intensified. You could tell you were ready to freefall from that peak again as your breath hitched with every thrust, walls clamping down around him. From the increasingly erratic rhythm of his thrusts, you could tell he was there with you.

Then, for the umpteenth time that night, Ronald Speirs surprised you. His mouth became a stream of praise and words of adoration, like you were some kind of angel and this was his altar, while his lips possessively decorated your neck and shoulders with dark marks you were sure you wouldn't be able to hide.

“Fuck, you were made for me, weren't you, sweetheart? You're, hah, so beautiful when you're under me. So perfect. My pretty little nurse.”

His soft words in his husky tone, though they threw you for a loop and definitely required your attention when you were back to thinking straight, sent you into the sweet release of your climax. He swallowed your pleasured scream with his lips on yours, gently bruising your lips with the passion of his kiss. You had no idea Ronald Speirs could be so tender and so dominant at once.

The sporadic clenching of your walls around him led him to his orgasm, and he bit into your neck with a low, long groan as he filled you with his warm release. Your body went limp against his, held up only by his arms around your torso. After the two of you regained your breath, he pulled out, and you quietly whimpered at the sudden emptiness. He carefully laid you down with your back to the metal table, tucked himself into his pants, zipped and buckled them, and looked around, searching for a towel to wipe yourselves off.

“The towels, uh, are over there.” You pointed in the direction of the cloth. “You can run some water over them in that sink, if you want.”

He nodded wordlessly and followed your directions while you laid there, thinking about tonight's events and wondering if maybe you had dreamed it all after a late night of cleaning up.

You were broken out of your reverie by a glass of water being placed next to you and a warm, damp cloth gingerly wiping the insides of your thighs and your privates. Speirs didn't dare to look at your face as he did so. Once he was finished, he looked around again for a place to discard the used towel. You laughed, saying, “I'll take care of it, sir.”

He set the towel down on the table. “Do you,” he started, but then paused, glancing at your still bare form and your flushed face, realizing how intimate this had become, “need help getting dressed?”

“I'll be fine, sir,” you said with a tired smile, “I know my way around some clothes.”

He nodded again, more to himself than in response to you, and picked up his helmet. The moonlight now illuminated all of his face, revealing the red that had risen to his cheeks, whether out of exertion or, if you were interpreting this right, shyness. He now made eye contact, his gaze decidedly gentler than when he walked in. “Goodnight, Nurse (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

His eyes lingered for a second, his expression the same as the ones he would hit you with from across the base, before he turned, lit a cigarette, and left into the night.

Watching his retreating form and the smoke cloud dissipate behind him, you shook your head and pondered his strange deviation from the Speirs you knew, or who you thought you knew. As you got dressed and prepared to clean up the mess the two of you made, you came to the conclusion that maybe Ronald Speirs is more than the ruthless man the myths had made him out to be.

Maybe Lieutenant Sparky had a heart after all.

-

taglist: @ronsparky, @krispybearbouquet, @mads-weasley

[wolfofcelestia]

╰┈❥ Contains: Zayne/MC. No real plot. Just a fluffy moment. Slightly tsundere MC. Unnamed female MC. Third person POV. [AO3. WC: 723. Fluff.]

The image of Zayne with an armful of colourful plush bears and penguins came into sight as she turned the corner of the pediatric wing.

“Zayne?” she called out softly with a slight giggle.

His name in her voice had always cut through any other distraction to capture his attention. He turned to face her, causing a plush polar bear to slip from his arm.

“Ah, I wasn't expecting you here so early. Is there a blue moon tonight?” he asked, neatly placing a plush penguin on the wall display.

There was a large cutsey sign in pastel colours in the middle of a pyramid of plushies, all of which the doctor and the hunter had in their own plushie display at home. It seemed to be a plushie donation drive sponsored by Twinkle Toys.

“If you're going to be snarky every time I'm not late, I'll drink your latte,” she threatened, taking a sip from one of the two coffee cups in her hands.

Zayne chuckled at her response, his lips curling into a smile as he turned away from her to pick up the fallen bear. He placed it in an empty seat on the wall display before patting it on the head.

“If you drink two cups of coffee at the same time, you'll be on the toilet all night. I’ve stocked up on Pepto Bismol, so there's no need to worry. If you want to give yourself a stomach ache, I'll take care of you.”

She beamed at him, watching him straighten out the crooked plushies on the display as his words warmed her with a soft and fuzzy feeling that may or may not have been from the coffee.

“But I reserve the right to say 'I told you so',” he added with his usual nonchalance.

Her smile dropped. She tucked one cup of coffee into her arm to free up a hand and swat him on the ass in retaliation, the sound of the impact echoing through the hospital halls.

His body stilled, his hand nearly crushing a penguin’s face in.

“...There are children here,” he reminded her, his voice steady as he pushed his glasses up with a finger. “Apparently, there’s a child here with me as well.”

“Just take your coffee,” she huffed, a smile threatening to break through her annoyance at him.

Zayne took the cup from her and stood back to admire the now-neatly organized plushie display. His hand settled on top of her head, much like how he had patted each plushie on the head when he placed them in their slots on the wall.

She didn't react, merely staying close to him as the warm sunlight poured through the hall to surround them. The bustle of doctors and nurses rushing through the hospital seemed a whole world away in their secluded hallway of soft plushies and the sweet scent of vanilla lattes.

“Why are you in charge of the plushie display?” she asked in earnest, her voice softer now.

“I’m not,” he answered simply. “I was just passing by when I saw a penguin about to fall off. I thought it looked like you when you get hungry—” He was cut off by the incredulous look she gave him, but he continued with a smile. “So I put her back in her seat and made sure her friends wouldn't fall off either.”

His hand trailed down to her shoulder, moving slowly to the small of her back as he led her down the hall. “Let's go. You'll be late for the appointment if you stay here any longer.”

She looked up to meet his gaze, confused, but her body responded out of habit, her feet carrying her in the direction Zayne had set. “I don't have an appointment today.”

“We do.”

As they walked back to his office, Zayne nodded to a passing nurse, who did a double take once she saw his arm around the hunter's waist.

“All-you-can-eat desserts. Our reservation is in an hour.”

Zayne didn't have to look at her to know that her eyes were sparkling at the surprise promise of sweets. It was always so easy to make her happy. And whenever he felt her squeeze his arm just a little tighter, it always flooded his chest with a warmth that he quickly grew addicted to.

╰┈❥ Note: The sweets restaurant I had in mind was actually Cafe Ron Ron, a place I had visited once before. After some googling, I realized that it seemed to be the only one of its kind in the world and is actually now shut down, so I had to just generalize it to an AYCE place. Zayne and MC would've loved that place tho

[kittyball23]

Lullaby (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: On the way to their first destination, the Trolls have a brief campout for the night

A/N: An idea by FandomKingdomGirl on AO3 as well as @pixarchan :)

__________________________________________

Nobody realized how much of a distance it was to their first stop, until the sky began to turn a gradient sunset color, and then gave way into night.

They had set out in the morning, traveling all day without rest, and it had taken its toll on the caterbus. Rhonda stretched out each of her four green legs and then flopped down on the ground, letting out a great big yawn. John Dory seated himself next to her and patted her fondly, the caterbus letting out a happy little purr in response.

Poppy in the meantime had nursed a fire, supplying wood to it so that it continued to keep them each warm. Sleeping bags were being set up by Branch around it, so they could all turn in for the night and be readily re-energized once tomorrow came.

“Ooo,” Tiny Diamond said, seeing the setup. “Are we gonna be telling scary stories?”

“No,” Poppy shook her head. “We’re gonna go to sleep.”

“What?” Tiny said, like he couldn’t believe it.

“It’s way past your bedtime,” the Pop Queen said matter-of-factly.

“A man doesn’t need bedtime!” Tiny Diamond pouted, crossing his arms.

“Oh, yes you do!” Poppy said. “How else are you gonna grow up to be big and strong?”

“Aunt Poppy, I’m already big and strong, see?” He flexed the teeny little muscles he had on his arms and Poppy sighed.

Branch could tell she was tired. With how energetic she was throughout the day, it all came crashing down at night. A fussy child was not something she would rather deal with right now when there was a nice, comfortable slumber awaiting her. So Branch stepped in to help.

“Proud of your boy

I'll make you proud of your boy

Believe me, bad as I've been, Ma

You're in for a pleasant surprise,

I've wasted time

I've wasted me

So say I'm slow for my age

A late bloomer, Okay, I agree…”

Branch sang just loud enough so that it could be heard over the crackling of the flames, and other nature sounds around them. Poppy glanced at him with delighted surprise, always charmed to hear his voice, but Tiny Diamond wasn’t sharing her sentiments exactly.

“A lullaby?” he said. “Nice try, but that never - “ He broke off, yawning suddenly, and realizing that it just might be working. Seeing that it was, Branch continued.

“That I've been one rotten kid

Some son, some pride and some joy

But I'll get over these lousin' up

Messin' up, screwin' up times

You'll see, Ma, now comes the better part

Someone's gonna make good

Cross his stupid heart

Make good and finally make you

Proud of your boy…”

It was clear that Tiny was falling to the sleeping spell, with the way he was bobbing his head and trying really hard not to let his eyes get too droopy. But he was being stubborn. He still had his glittery arms crossed and was sitting up straight. But Branch didn’t let it deter him.

“Tell me that I've been a louse and loafer

You won't get a fight here, no ma'am

Say I'm a goldbrick, a good-off, no good

But that couldn't be all that I am

Water flows under the bridge

Let it pass, let it go

There's no good reason that you should believe me

Not yet, I know, but…”

Poppy sighed in admiration, her hands tucked under her chin and her eyes dilated. He was so captivating when he sang. That voice of his was something special, a gift from the heavens that bore much talent. It was no longer anything new to her, but it was to someone else who hadn’t heard his singing voice for nearly two decades.

John Dory was just about to snooze against his pet caterbus, when Branch’s singing had made him perk right up. It sounded totally bro-dacious! Not realizing it, his jaw had dropped and his eyes had gone wide as the realization came to him. That was Baby Branch, the little infant who was only an inch tall and who’d sang there on stage next to him when he was a teenager, with a voice that was still developing in strength and uniqueness. Clearly, Branch hadn’t given up singing, and he seemed to have perfected his vocals so stunningly in the years he was on his own…

… years that John Dory was absent for.

A guilt suddenly came upon the teal Troll. He began to think back to how he’d greeted Branch back at the wedding earlier that day, as if no years had passed by, as though it was just another day up to their brotherly antics, when it obviously wasn’t the case. There were many years in between, years where he could’ve seen Branch grow into that lovely voice, and helped guide him there vocally. That was no longer possible… not without a time machine, which, didn’t exist of course.

Still, he wondered if there was a way to make amends to that bond…

“Someday and soon

I'll make you proud of your boy

Though I can't make myself taller

Or smatter or handsome or wise…”

John Dory had taken a leap of faith in joining in on the song, hoping that Branch wouldn’t get upset. Branch did not stop singing, but he did look over in surprise at his brother. A part of him was annoyed. He hadn’t wanted JD to sing with him. He wanted to sing with him only when the time required it, when they had already retrieved Spruce and Clay and were ready to do the perfect Family Harmony to free Floyd. But he couldn’t stop himself now. It would break the serene melody that was finally making Tiny shut his eyes for good, the fight in him to stay awake lost.

“I'll do my best, what else can I do?

Since I wasn't born perfect like Dad or you

Mom, I will try to

Try hard to make you

Proud of your boy…”

Both brothers sang, and Branch felt a little spark inside him once they’d concluded. It hadn’t sounded awful. It had sounded pretty good, and John Dory was beaming at him. Branch didn’t scowl at him. He didn’t smile just yet, but he wasn’t frowning or huffing either. He was just looking at him with the slightest hint of appreciation.It wasn’t much, but it was just enough for JD to get that vibe that things could be amended. They weren’t beyond repair - they could still be put right.

Poppy was bubbly with joy as she grabbed the sleeping baby and tucked him into one of the sleeping bags. Tiny smiled in his sleep and cuddled the blanket close to him, sucking his thumb. She then turned her gaze to Branch and JD, and could see the expressions on their faces. They’re going to be great friends by the end of this trip! Poppy thought to herself, looking forward to when she would see her boyfriend and his brother pal around, singing songs and hugging and dancing like they had years before.

Branch broke his gaze away first, and he glanced around them. “Wait… where am I gonna sleep?”

Poppy cocked her head. “Huh?” She looked down, and suddenly realized the predicament. Poppy had placed Tiny in Branch’s sleeping bag, and by the looks of it, the Trolling seemed far too comfortable to be moved. Aside from John Dory’s sleeping bag, which he was already settled into, there was only Poppy’s pink one.

“Ohhh… oops,” the Pop Queen said, biting her lip in contemplation.

“Hmm,” JD thought, and then he snapped his fingers as he thought of a perfect solution. “Say, why don’tcha sleep together!”

“WHAT?!”

John Dory reared back as the two Trolls yelled in shock back at him. “Whoa, chill, alright? I just thought the sleeping bag looked big enough to fit ya,” he explained. “What’d you think I meant?”

As Poppy’s face turned red with a blush, Branch already began to walk off. “You know what? I, uh, I can just gather some leaves and moss and stuff and I’ll just make myself a pile to sleep on, okay? Okay!” He hurried off.

“But won’t that be uncomfortable?” John Dory called after him.

“NOPE!” came the strained reply.

JD was confused when Poppy too didn’t want to speak anymore. “Well, goodnight!” she squeaked, quickly tucking herself into the pink sleeping bag and making sure to turn her face away from his.

John Dory exchanged a baffled look with Rhonda. “Was it something I said?”

Rhonda only shrugged.

__________________________________________ A/N: Song is "Proud of Your Boy" from the Aladdin musical 🎶

[kidstemplatte]

my everything

pairing: terzo/fem! reader

summary: you and terzo welcome your son into the world, introducing him to your daughter and the rest of the emeritus family.

(check out my masterlist to hear more about stories involving violetta and dad terzo! message at the end as per usual. please enjoy!)

On October 13th at 11:57 pm, your son Vincenzo Everett Emeritus , or simply, Vinnie, was born. The process went smoothly, with your loving husband Terzo by your side at each second, whispering words of encouragement in your ear as you powered through the pain. He never failed to be blown away by you and your strength. Having a daughter already amped up his feminist game a hefty amount, but seeing you give birth twice raised the stakes even more. He loved his two girls more than anything. You were the light of his life, the reason he woke up in the morning, what motivated him to become a better husband, father, brother, son, and person. But he had to admit, he was thrilled to be having a son. It was expected of the Emeritus family to produce an heir, but he wanted to make it very clear to his son that his existence was not one that came about as a result of expectations, but love.

As the nurse placed your newborn into your arms, you felt a sense of euphoria that you did not get to experience after your first birth; your daughter was rushed out of the hospital room before you could even catch sight of her. There was no other feeling like holding your son for the first time. It was like every emotion into the world had flooded your senses all at once; joy, anger, sadness, grief, confusion, excitement. It was a beautiful sensation, unlike anything you had ever experienced. Your soul was aching with nothing but love for the baby in your arms. He was so small, so precious, so perfect. Teeny tiny. You wondered if he would share his height with his Papa. Black hair barely visible on the top of his head, his cheeks rosy and supple.

And just as you thought he couldn’t become even more perfect, he opened his eyes for the first time. His right eye was a hazy green, his left a ghostly white. You nearly gasped.

“Terzo, Terzo- look.”

You passed your baby into your husband’s arms, and as Terzo looked his son in the eyes for the very first time, tears welled up in the eyes they both shared.

“Hi. Hi, little one.” He choked out. “Your Papa loves you very much.” Terzo held a finger out above his son and watched in awe as the newborn wrapped his tiny hand around it.

“He loves you already.” You said, a weary smile draped on your face.

“I’m afraid I might love him more. And that I always will.”

You two sat in silence for a moment as he gazed upon the new life you had created.

“Y/N?” he said.

“Terzo?”

“You are incredible.”

“What do you mean?” You questioned.

“You did this.” He said, his gaze returning to his son in his arms.

“Having a baby? I don’t know. I mean, people do it every day.”

“That does not make it any less amazing.” He remarked, a twinkle in his eye.

“But you’re amazing too. You deserve some credit. You’ve been here for me this whole time.” You replied, honestly.

“You are so sweet. But please, take this, amore mio.”

“Okay. Thank you.” You said, finally accepting his praise.

“Thank you, cara mia. For being my everything. The best wife and mother ever to exist.”

“I love you.” You said tenderly to your husband.

“I love you too.”

“Hi, Vinnie.” You whispered as Terzo placed him back into your arms, where he rested comfortably on your chest.

He let out an adorable little gurgle, as if he was trying to say “Hi” back.

“Are you excited to meet your family? Your sister is so excited to meet you, little Vinnie.” You cooed at your son, eagerly awaiting your discharge from the hospital, longing to bring him home.

•✧•

Meanwhile, Violetta and her Uncle Copi sat together on the couch, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the new baby. One thing about Violetta: She loved asking questions. Questions that were sometimes best left unanswered.

“Uncle Copi?”

“Si?”

“Where do babies come from?”

“Eh…” Copia, not quite sure how to respond to this question, awkwardly trailed off. “I, uh…”

“You don’t know?”

“Well, eh, I’m not sure.”

“Who knows then?” she carried on.

“Only Satan himself, I suppose.”

“Oh. Okay.” That seemed to satisfy her. “Uncle Copi?”

“Si?”

“Do you think I will be a good big sister?”

“You? You, my little flower, will be the best big sister. Best niece, best daughter, and now, the best sister.”

“You’re the best uncle ever.”

“Aw, thank you, Violetta.” He said, his heart nearly melting. “But do not forget your Zio Primo and Secondo. They love you very much. They are the best uncles too.”

“Yes. Primo is nice. Secondo is funny. Not very smiley though.” She said, mimicking his permanent frown.

“That is a very good impression.” Copi chuckled. “You are a very funny girl.”

“Uncle Copi?” she repeated.

“Si?”

This was not a question, but a statement.

“You’re my best friend.” She said.

Copia smiled, tears threatening to escape his painted eyes.

“And you are mine.” He returned.

“Forever?” Violetta held out her pinky finger, which was equivalent to a swear. In toddler language, as well as Copia’s.

“Forever. I promise.” The Cardinal swore, latching his pinky finger onto hers to form a sacred pinky promise.

“Good.”

Suddenly the doorknob rattled, making Violetta immediately jolt up in her seat.

“I think they are here, Violetta…” Copia smiled.

The door opened, Terzo entering the quarters with a baby carrier in hand, you following behind.

“Here, let me help you.” Copia said, standing up and walking over to assist you and Terzo.

Terzo handed the baby carrier to his brother, and held the door open for you, as you were still recovering. Violetta was so excited at the sight of her parents she just about leaped off of the couch, running to greet her Mama and Papa.

“Mama! Papa!” Your daughter squealed.

“Oh, la mia stellina, how we missed you.” Terzo said, scooping his daughter up and kissing all over her face as she giggled.

“Mommy! Hi, Mommy!” she said, waving to you as she sat in Terzo’s arms.

“Hi, baby.” You said. “Come here.”

You joined them, wrapping your arms around your daughter and husband, kissing her on the forehead before sharing a quick peck with your husband.

Meanwhile, Copia sat beside his nephew. He peered into the carrier, heart seeping with joy as he looked at the newborn.

“Violetta, say hi your fratellino, Vinnie.” Terzo said, gently setting her down.

Violetta trotted over to the couch, standing in front of her baby brother.

“Be very gentle, okay, principessa?” Terzo said.

“Yes, Papa.” She nodded. The little girl’s face lit up with glee as she peeked at the infant under the pile of blankets.

“He’s so small.” she observed. “And cute.”

Suddenly, Vinnie began to open his little eyes.

And that was the moment Violetta met eyes with her baby brother for the first time, his green and white-

Wait.

Violetta then made a revolutionary discovery.

Mouth agape, Violetta exclaimed, “They don’t match!” Violetta excitedly looked from Vinnie’s eyes and then to her Papa’s, and back to her baby brother. “They match!” she exclaimed, pointing from Vinnie to her father. “They match because they don’t match! Uh…” Violetta rambled, uncertain of how to explain her revelation.

“Yes, Violetta.” you laughed. “He has the same eyes as your Papa.”

Violetta turned to her uncle, eager to explain this phenomenon to him.

“Uncle Copi, look! They-“

Wait.

His eyes also matched. They didn’t match. They matched because they didn’t match. They all matched. Because they didn’t match. Which made them match.

“You match!” She proclaimed to her uncle. “Because- because they-“

She was so cute.

“Your Papa, Uncle Copi, and Vinnie all have the same mismatched eyes. Isn’t that amazing?” You assisted her.

“Yeah!” She chirped. “But why don’t I?” she said, slightly dejected, but mostly confused.

“Because your eyes match your Mommy’s.” Terzo explained.

“No way! We match, Mommy!” she exclaimed, looking up at you, before looking back down at her brother. “Hi Vinnie,” She whispered. “I’m Violetta. I’m your big sister”

Taking a seat on the couch, you reached inside the carrier to hold your son.

“There we go.” You said, cradling him to your chest. “Hi, baby.”

Violetta crawled beside you on the couch, before Terzo picked her up and sat in her spot, placing her on his lap as she giggled.

You all sat on the couch for a bit, before hearing a knock on the door.

“Oh. That must be Primo and Secondo.” Copia announced, walking to the door and opening it.

“Ciao, fratelli!” Terzo mused, waving at his brothers. “Come say hello to your nephew!”

“And me!” Violetta chimed in.

“Hello, Violetta. How is your baby brother doing?” Primo said, walking over to the couch as he ruffled his niece’s hair.

“Good! He’s so cute. I love him so much.” she gushed.

“Molto bene.” He said, smiling and looking down at his nephew in your arms. You are right, he is very cute. Congratulations, you two.” He said, gazing to you and Terzo.

“Thank you, Primo.” you responded, as Secondo stood beside him.

“I see he has the signature green and white eyes as well.” Secondo remarked.

“Yeah!” Violetta jumped in, excitedly looking her Uncle Secondo in his eyes. “Isn’t it cool-“

Wait.

Before she could even continue, you, Terzo, and Copia started laughing.

“Yes, Violetta, all their eyes match.” You explained once again. “And Primo’s do too.”

“Oh. I get it.” She replied.

“I brought some things for you and Vinnie, no need to open them now, I placed them by the door.” Primo informed you, gesturing to a basket sitting on a nearby coffee table.

“Oh, thank you so much!” You said to him.

He nodded with a soft grin.

You really were lucky to be part of such a loyal family.

•✧•

After putting Violetta to bed and Vinnie in the crib beside you, Terzo assisted you in getting into bed yourself, letting out a sigh of relief as you sat against the large pillows.

“How are you feeling, amore mio?” Terzo asked, sitting beside you and tracing his fingers up and down your arm.

You paused. You weren’t doing bad at all. In fact, you were doing well. But there was no doubt that you were flooded with emotions, the past 48 hours had been insane. You had a baby, for Satan’s sake. But that question always had a way of drawing tears out of you when you least wanted it to.

“… I’m okay.” You squeaked, your throat tightening up.

“Oh, tesoro, It’s okay. Come here.” He reassured you, as you fell into his arms, letting the tears come out.

“Sorry. It’s just, it’s a lot, you know.” You croaked.

“Yes, it is a lot. You are doing an amazing job. You are the best mother ever. The best wife ever.” He said, kissing you on the side of your head.

“Thanks.” You sniffled. “I love you.”

“I love you too, cara mia.” He replied, wiping the tears from your face. “Let’s see what my brothers got for us, okay? I’ll be right back.” You nodded as he briefly exited the room and returned with the basket in hand.

The first thing you noticed was a jar of beautiful vibrant flowers, with a note attached, reading: “October birth flowers, Marigold and Cosmos.”

How sweet. You would be sure to put those in the nursery tomorrow. The care package was incredibly thoughtful, Primo had definitely put a lot of time in it. You looked through the basket, finding many lovely things: a candle, essential oils, body salve, to name a few. But what shocked you was a beige envelope, adorned not with Primo’s handwriting, but someone else’s, addressed to you. Not Terzo, just you. It must be Secondo. You figured he had already shared some words with Terzo previously. You opened the envelope to find a piece of parchment, covered in decadent cursive.

Y/N,

Congratulations on the arrival of your newest child. You are quite a remarkable person. Not only for being able to put up with my fratellino, but for making him so happy. I have never seen my brother light up the way he does when he speaks of you, Violetta, and now, Vincenzo. The light you bring does not go unnoticed. Let me know if you need anything throughout this journey. It is an honor to have you as a part of the Emeritus family.

-Secondo

Wow. That was a heartfelt note from someone as stern as Secondo. You smiled fondly at his kind words.

“What was that?” Your husband asked.

“Just a little note from Secondo.” You responded, placing it in your nightstand drawer.

Terzo smiled. “How nice.”

Terzo looked at you, his eyes beaming with love and adoration. He was so proud, so proud of you and the family you two had created, the life he now had that he didn’t even know was possible. One full of joy and love and contentment.

“Now, let’s get my beautiful wife some rest, shall we?”

“Yes please.” You agreed, utterly exhausted and sleep-deprived.

You turned off the lamp beside your bed, you two snuggling deep underneath the covers as you let out a soft noise while getting comfortable. Terzo whispered words of adoration in your ear as he knew you loved, gently stroking your hair as he laid beside you.

“I love you so much, mio angelo. The only angel I will ever believe in. My beautiful, sweet wife. I love you. I love you. I love you.” He said, kissing your head between each proclamation.

“I love you too, Terzo.” You sleepily mumbled, falling into a peaceful slumber in the arms of your lover.

└── •✧• ──┘

YAYYYYY!!!

this took so long, it was longer than i thought it was going to be!!!

(violetta and vinnie have the same initials. isn’t that cute?)

and there’s more uncle copi in this!!!! aghhhh i can’t get enough of him!!😭

i hope you enjoyed, more dad terzo is coming as well as terzo/reader!!

i love you so much, thank you for reading!!!

<3, alice

[chevelleneech]

Put me in the writer’s room, Tim!

Y’all know what would really spark Eddie’s feelings realization in s8?

Buck going missing.

Not injured, because he’s been physically hurt enough, but just missing. I don’t think we’ve seen him lost and the others having to find him, because the only time that would have been necessary was during the tsunami, and they didn’t know he was caught in it.

So I imagine it something like what the show Found did. They had a great episode where a couple went missing on a hike, and the woman got seriously injured, so the guy— a nurse— stayed with her to give her his blood until help came. Now, neither Buck nor Tommy are nurses, but I imagine Tim and co could figure out a way to have them go on a hiking date, then Tommy gets injured— solely because I do not want Buck injured again— and Buck secures him in one spot as he tries to find his way out of the ravine they fell down or something.

And because I’m not a BuckTommy hater as I’m sure some of their fans think, this would also serve as an episode that could open the door for us to learn what exactly Buck likes about Tommy. What is he seeking by dating Tommy, and whether or not in a moment of life and death, if Tommy is the person Buck wants to have a future with. An episode like this could easily be a “Buck Begins Again”, and focus on his sexuality and whether or not he truly never realized he likes men or was just suppressing it.

Now, imagine all of that happening on Buck’s day off around mid-day, then the next morning the 118 are starting their shift and everyone is confused as to why Buck isn’t at work. Gerard doesn’t give a fuck, obviously, and feels it’s an easy win to firing him, but Eddie is all… “No, something must be wrong. Buck is never not here..” So they call Tommy, but he of course doesn’t answer. Then they call Bobby, who talked to him the day before maybe, and says something like “He said he and Tommy were headed back. Maybe they got caught up or he’s just running late?”

So of course when Buck doesn’t answer anybody all morning, they all start to freak out because Buck doesn’t ghost people. He is the complete opposite of the type, but everyone is also still caught up at work and with Gerard and Councilwoman Ortiz breathing down their necks, they can’t jump to look for him. But you know who can? Maddie. And maaaaaayyyyybe we can wiggle it where Eddie had a scheduled trip to Texas to finally talk to Chris is person, but he’s conflicted about going now, because… it’s Buck. Chris would hate him even more if something happened to Buck, but he’s worried Chris will feel pushed aside again if he doesn’t go.

He ultimately decides to stay and help Maddie look for Buck though, because 1) if Gavin is really gone, obviously there’s no scenes to be had in Texas 2) he slowly realizes Buck means way more to him than he thought possible.

And because I am a Buddie prefer-er, Buck would also end the episode realizing dying on the side of a mountain as he grows increasingly dehydrated and tired, that the people he’d miss saying goodbye to the most does not include the man he walked up the mountain with. It’s Maddie; his sister and the woman who raised him to be the kind man he is today. Bobby; the man who took him under his wing and treated him the way a true father is supposed to. Christopher; the kid he didn’t know he wanted, but has given his heart to as a step-father-figure. And Eddie; the man he built a family unit with and whom he broke down over nearly losing more than once, whose home is a place of peace and comfort for him.

All of that said… am I looking forward to whatever s8 has in store? Not completely, and I already stated my piece on why. The way this season ended was pretty subpar, and because Tim and co refused to have Buck and/or Eddie so much as mention in passing the assumptions people have about them dating or any possible feelings for each other, I truly am not awaiting anyone’s future story arcs. I will still watch and care for the characters, hopefully, but putting thought into whatever eventually plays out on screen? I’m done. As of right now in canon, nothing is being resolved, everything is repetitive, and the actors are reaching a point of being like, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure it’ll work out.” Which is a bad sign. So I’m in headcanon all the way territory, and will enjoy what the actors I support put out as objectively as I can.

[ratyts]

(not knowing) is bliss (miguel o’hara x gn!reader)

masterlist

this could be about anyone but i wrote it with miguel in mind (literally does not say miguel once in the text). don’t love the way this reads (i hate it) but i haven’t written anything in a while so forgive me

warnings: very light implied spoilers for atsv, i’m a loser and i should stick to prose

word count: 661

something was wrong with your husband. the doctors said it was not uncommon to see changes in behavior with gunshot victims, especially when your husband was lucky to have survived considering where he was shot. they said he lost a lot of blood, that he was very lucky to be alive. but it was a traumatic experience, and these experiences could change people. of course, the doctor had specified, in some medical jargon, but all you heard was that your husband was alive. breathing. he was lucky, that meant he would be okay.

since he’s returned home, you’ve been defining what the doctor meant by ‘okay’. what it meant for him to be alive, and lucky. his physical recovery was swift– something no one expected– he was running and playing with your daughter only a week and a half after he was discharged.

the first glance you saw of his bare chest after the shooting was in passing, he was rushing to get in the shower while you happened to be in the bedroom. you were doing something insignificant, folding clothes, or maybe flipping through a book, when he rushed in. your eyes flitted up to his form for only a second, but a second was enough. his skin, his body, they looked fine. there was a small pale spot on his back, where the wound was. there was no bruising, the wound only whispering traces of its existence. you had been too consumed with the miracle of his recovery to notice the way his arms looked bigger, stronger. the definition in his back you had never seen before. something was different about your husband.

he had woken up in the hospital, only moments after you arrived. it was a blur in your memories, the nurse rushing out to alert the doctor, you begging them to let you in the room, the stilling of your heart when you heard him speak from behind the curtain. “let them in,” he said, the familiar baritone of his voice nearly sending you to your knees.

three words from him were enough for you to run into the room, pushing away the curtain. his brown hair was rustled, and his gaze was dark even in the fluorescent hospital light. you stood at the foot of his bed, eyes wide. at the time, you attributed your hesitation to shock. not suspicion, it couldn’t have been. you faltered the moment he gave you a soft smile, anyway. maybe there had been something wrong with you.

he was undeniably your husband. he wore your wedding band. he called you the sweet names he always did. he liked the same food, wore the same clothes, combed his hair in the strange pattern he always did. but you were doubting him, sick to your stomach with guilt, you were still doubting him. it came in waves, at first. the first night back from the hospital, he held you tighter than he ever had before. that was expected, you clung onto him just as painfully. when you felt his hot breath on your ear, whispering how much he loved you, how lucky he was to have you, how he would never let you go, you said nothing, only holding him tighter. his voice was heavy, intensity dripping off every syllable. that was expected, you had almost lost him. he had almost lost you.

the seed of fear sprouted in your mind. when his possessive grip didn’t soften, when the darkness in his eyes only deepened, when frown lines around his lips only seemed more prominent. when he held you like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth. he had always been a wonderful father and doting husband, but he was only more committed, only more loving. it should’ve been a good thing. you wanted it to be a good thing. the pit in your stomach grew. you said nothing, and if he noticed, he said nothing either.

[druidx]

Her Countenance was Light - Chapter 47

CW: None AO3 ; Chapters: 01. 10. 20. 30. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46 Tag list (ask for +/-): @aquadestinyswriting, @hannah-heartstrings, @jacqueswriteblrlibrary, @babyblueetbaemonster @mr-orion

She's laid up in hospital for two more weeks. During the first, her only visitors are unknown TPD Officers and a revolving door of King Storri's Ubiquitous Black Suits. A nurse comes in a few days after Farren's visit with a letter. Elo recognises the blocky scrawl on the outside. The machine she's hooked up to starts wailing, so the nurse tucks it away and gives her a sedative. The second week,she's allowed to see Strucker and her mother, and eventually Cobbleskater, who – much to Strucker's annoyance – sneaks paperwork in to keep her busy; Strucker stops complaining when Elo reminds him of his own work ethic. She learns Breakwood, Cobbleskater, Monday, and Yates busted their asses to tie up the case against Brauma and deliver it, pretty bows and all, to the DA. They raided Brauma's house and found the murder weapon. A short, gangly man by the name of Stone came forward as a witness. Arts & Antiquities held some of the missing pieces to their puzzle. Organised Crime, it turned out, held the rest.

An expensive advocate turns up, but won't say who he's been bought by. He tells her she's been demoted back to Detective Constable. Still a detective, Elo thinks – and is glad they've let her keep that. As the previous lead investigator, she must attend Brauma's posthumous trial for Evelyn Strucker's murder. She may also be called to testify against the others responsible for the art fraud and gun running rings Brauma was orchestrating. Her own trial will be separate. Elo nearly dismisses him, because what's the point of a defence advocate when he's got nothing to defend? But she doesn't, because she knows she'll need an experienced hand to help navigate these waters.

A doctor comes to talk to her about being discharged. Despite everything, she wants to go to Farren's; as far as she's concerned, it's the safest place in the city. But she hasn't spoken to him for two weeks – the longest she's gone without speaking to him while still in the city – and it would mean she has to sleep on the sofa, which the doctor says isn't suitable. So once again, she'll be packed off to Strucker's spare room.

The day she's due to be discharged, Elo's packing up her things when she finds the letter. She's dressed, ready to go, and only waiting on whoever Strucker sends to pick her up. As she holds the letter in her hands, she feels her heart speed up. The doctors have said she can handle some excitement, but not too much. Her heart is still delicate. Bug, the letter starts, in Farren's blocky lettering. I'm sorry. It wasn't supposed to be a trap. It was just to find out more details. No one was expecting a full confession. I wasn't there to hang you. On my badge, I wasn't. You're my sister, Elowyn. More than that, even. I would never do something like that to you. Never. Understand? Call me, okay? Let's get this squared away. The immediate flush of feeling betrayed had passed quickly enough – Elo had known he would never have done something like that to her, not on purpose. But every time she'd looked at the letter, the machine started wailing and she'd had to set the affair aside. Now she feels an utter turkey. All that time she left him stewing! When she gets to Stucker's, she'll call and set things straight.

–––

She's given another week's reprieve. Time enough to sort things with Farren and say teary goodbyes to the Icelandic contingent – they can't be in the city, Storri says, at the same time as Drakemar, who is rumoured to be dealing with the matter of Elo's trial personally. He tells her he'll be back in a month, to ratify some accord or other, and he intends to cash in on the two dinners she owes him. "Two?" "Two. The pre-agreed remuneration for our alliance, and the one you skipped out on to ensure the other end of our bargain was kept, in that foolish way you managed." "Technically, I never signed that accord." "Strucker and Clayrmantle were your proxies. Not that I would think you the type to go back on your word, but I still expect to be paid in full!" His tone suggests he expects she'll still be around to keep the bargain. "Sir," Elo says, neutrally; she won't make a promise she can't keep.

The reprieve is time enough to settle her accounts and double-check her will before she's swept up in recording statements and giving testimony and pinned to her desk with all the paperwork she wasn't able to do before.

Before her trial, there'll be an inquiry. It's supposed to be an assessment – was this murder or a lawful and justified killing – but they all know, no matter the result, Elo will have to stand trial. She killed a member of the Triumvirate. The public, the senate, and the constitution all demand she appear before court for such an act. The inquiry is led by one Lieutenant F. King Sensible, of the 61st precinct. They've worked together before, briefly, in a special task force to deal with the Brotherhood case. She knows he's a good man and a better cop, who'll make a fair and reasoned assessment before the court, even if it doesn't matter much in the end. She's made copies of all the reports and evidence, refusing help from anyone. Farren is being bounced up to sergeant, Cobbleskater to constable first-class. While Yates and Monday are still their desk neighbours, they've been unassigned. Elo knows the pecking order – and besides, she thinks maybe this way she can distance them from her screwup. She goes alone to give her statement to Lieutenant Sensible and submit to questioning; when they find out later, she gets an earful, even from Cobbleskater. Fugit just looks disappointed – and pulls strings. When she has to go back the second time, her advocate is waiting for her outside the 61st.

"I want to go over the fight again," Sensible says. Elo rakes her hands through her hair. "C'mon, Kingy. I've told you everything I remember already. Face it – there's always going to be holes in the narrative. The doctors said I had trauma-based amnesia." "Maybe something'll jog loose if we go through it again." Advocate Yevlyn holds up a hand. "What is the end point of this line of questioning?" Sensible sighs and pulls out a piece of paper to hand over to the Advocate. "In the hospital conversation with Detective Breakwood, O'Toreguarde stated she thought Brauma would 'become another Greydown'." "A conversation, incidentally, which is inadmissible." "But it is part of the record." Sensible turns back to Elo. "What I want to know is how you came to that conclusion, and did it have anything to do with words exchanged during the fight?" Elo glances at the Advocate. He nods. She shakes her head, lost. "Maybe? We exchanged words before we fought. He was itching for any excuse to attack. I think I asked him to stand down. Maybe we mentioned other things? I'm sorry, King, I don't remember. The only clear thing I can recall is his dismissive confession, and knowing that I was winding up dead either way." "And then decided to expedite the process." "Lieutenant," the Advocate raises a warning finger. "I must remind you not to allow your personal feelings to colour your judgement." "Of course, Advocate Yevlyn," he says, not sounding at all contrite. "O'Toreguarde, the fight happened before you knew about the gun-running, correct?" "Technically." Sensible raises an eyebrow. "Technically?" "In the Victim's personal diary, page 130-something, she speaks to an informant who says, and I paraphrase, 'one of the Masters is bringing danger into the city'. The victim interpreted that to mean someone in the council, and was conducting background checks on everyone. I read this after Brauma attempted vehicular manslaughter of myself, but before I knew it was he who attempted it. So I was aware there was a threat beyond the art fraud, but nothing specific." "And your conclusion was that Brauma was that Master?" "Yes. Item seven is the mechanic's assessment of damage done to the underside of Brauma's car. You'll see he notes a high prevalence of gold-coloured plastic fragments. Plastic, which came from the fairing of my motorbike after Brauma drove over it in an attempt to drive over me. "Additionally, Sargent Monday was able to trace the renter of the jetty at Tattham Docks and the owner of the sunken barge back through a string of shell corporations to Brauma." "That was after his death, though?" "Yes." Sensible shakes his head. "It still feels like something is missing. Some final step which made you take that leap. And from what I can see, having gone through all the statements and reports and evidence, it must have happened during the fight." Sensible stops sifting the papers in front of him and looks up with an exasperated huff. "If I may be candid? El, you're one of the most reckless people I've ever met. But I know for a fact that even you wouldn't do something so utterly misguided as getting deliberately stabbed, unless you thought it was the only way to solve a problem. "I just can't see how you got from Brauma's animosity towards you to 'he'll be another Greydown'." Elo throws her hands up. "I don't know what to tell you! After his confession, and refusal to stand down, everything in my memory is just… fire." "Fire?" "I think we should take a break," the Advocate says. "You are causing my client undue distress, and she's still clinically vulnerable." Elo holds up a placating hand to Advocate Yevlyn, and takes a couple of deep breaths, knowing that he's right – she still needs to keep her pulse under control.

"Thank you. I can continue." She looks at Sensible. "Yes, Kingy, fire. The rebar wasn't rebar, but a flaming sword. Every time I landed a punch, it left a burn mark… I can't explain it. It must have been some… hallucination?" "I didn't see anything about this in the medical reports," Sensible says with a frown. "Did you share this with the doctors?" "These false memories weren't as specific as they are now. But yes, I mentioned it in passing, and was told it would go away eventually when I remembered what really happened." "But that hasn't happened yet?" Elo shrugs. "No." "And you've not had any other memory issues or hallucinations since?" "No." Sensible draws a hand down his face. "Alright. We'll end the session. I'll call you if I need any more questions answered." Advocate Yevlyn passes over a business card. "I'd prefer if you called me first. Detective O'Toreguarde is having some memory issues, pursuant to her Sixth Amendment rights." Sensible cants his head at Elo in a disappointed gesture, before wrapping the interview up and switching the recorder off. They stand to leave. "Off the record?" Sensible says as he collects his papers together, "I'll do what I can. But you haven't left me much wiggle room." "That's kind of you, Kingy, but I know what I did. Even if I can't remember why, I'm firm in my conviction that it was the right thing to do. I'll take whatever's coming to me with as much grace as I can." He looks at her with tight lips and grave eyes. "Still, I'll give it my best. I hope things go in your favour." Elo nods her thanks, and they shake.

[joysmercer]

June 2013; pre-uni anubis reunion/grad party at the millington residence; nina and joy.

____________

"you look like hell."

nina nearly drops the beer bottle she'd been nursing in shock. it's nearly 3:30 in the morning; she had assumed that everyone else had more-or-less passed out hours ago, leaving her here alone. but now, joy stands in the doorway, the pale stream of moonlight from the window revealing dark circles under her eyes that rival nina's own.

to her own surprise, she gestures up to the couch she's leaning against. "come sit," she says.

joy hesitates, then nods and comes to join nina on the floor, grabbing a cushion as a backrest and folding her legs neatly before her. even in exhaustion, everything about her is careful, calculated. nina's always simultaneously greatly disliked and heavily admired that about her.

"wanna swap?" joy asks. nina stares at the juicebox (undoubtedly taken from alfie) being extended towards her. "i could use something stronger, and like i said earlier, you look—"

"i'm fine," nina says on-cue, but grabs the juicebox and hands over her beer anyway. she takes a sip and immediately makes a face. "ew, grape."

"no tradebacks," joy smirks, but says nothing more.

they sit there in silence for a while, the ticking sound of a faraway clock their only other company.

nina's almost forgotten that the other girl is even there when joy's voice suddenly cuts through the stillness: "do you think things would've been different if i never left?"

"if you never—?" nina asks, and then it hits her. "oh."

she can feel joy stiffen besides her. "it's not like i forgot," nina adds hastily, "but i didn't know you, you know, before. so it feels less like you came back, and more like you just, y'know, came."

"so you ignore the fact that i knew everyone and everything before you even set foot in this country."

"that's not what i meant."

joy sighs and leans back against the couch, her eyes shut. "i know. i know."

"but i do, sometimes. think about what could've happened, i mean," nina says, mostly to cut the awkwardness but partially because it's true.

"do you think…do you think things would have been different?"

she knows joy isn't asking about the cup, or the mask, at least in the broad terms that outline the obvious answer to that question—that no, nina would have still gotten the locket one way or another, she's sure of it, and it doesn't take a genius to realize that her status as the paragon would have also been found out eventually.

she looks up to the balcony above the foyer, where the boys are asleep. fabian is in one of those rooms, or, at least, she thinks he is—she hasn't actually seen him since their reunion, if you could even call it that.

she had loved him once, and he, her—but neither of those things lasted. she had hated the girl next to her for that same reason, and vice-versa once again, and now here they are. but it's more complicated than just that, because there was also the other girls, whose protective streaks were never meant to be activated in tandem, and the boys, desperate to prove themselves for reasons they themselves couldn't quite explain, and the others, who always knew there were secrets in the house and covered for their friends without question.

the fact of the matter was that joy leaving disrupted a fundamental balance, and nina's arrival only moved the fulcrum farther away from where it started, and the cracks that resulted from all that would probably never fully heal.

"yes," nina answers. her eyes meet joy's. "we would have been happier. eventually, anyway."

"i think—" joy pauses. "we would have been good for each other. good to each other."

the words hang heavily between them, an apology, a confession, and a simple statement of fact all rolled into one.

joy hands back the bottle. it's empty. nina turns it over in her hands, feeling the smooth glass under her fingers. it's so fragile, so perfect. nina impulsively throws it across the room.

joy gasps and covers her ears as it lands in the fireplace and shatters into a million pieces they can't see. nina smirks. joy smiles, then giggles, then roars with laughter, and then nina joins in.

because, in the end, it's the only thing they can do.

[papaver-decervicatus]

Headcanons- John "Soap" MacTavish

Birthday, July 14th 1996

Early Life

Born in a hospital in Glasgow, but lived in a suburb of Glasgow for most of his life until enlistment

The only outstanding grades he ever got in secondary school were Chemistry and Art, originally took a basic art course as opposed to doing music but went on to take two more and won some low-level awards for portraiture. 

Goalkeeper in football throughout his life, continues to play in army rec leagues

He keeps in touch with the entirety of his old team through a group chat

Parents have been married since they were 18 (David) and 19 (Lorianne), respectively. His father is a bricklayer and his mother worked as a nurse aide until his birth.

Has 6 sisters, and is the 3rd born.

Jessica, 7 Years older, has twins who are currently 8 years old, no spouse

Deborah, 5 years older, married to a guy but no children

Lucy and Patricia, 4 years younger. Twins. Lucy is married and has a newborn, Patricia does not.

Abigail, Gwendolyn, and Elsie, 7 years younger, triplets, no children or spouses. (Yet.)

Was a choirboy at his local Catholic Church until he was kicked from the position for sneaking off to make out with one of the choir girls during mass.

Serial partier and fuckboy in his youth, got his ears pierced by a friend at a party when he was 14. Has a tramp Stamp from his 16th birthday while drunk. Got his SAS tattoo the day he passed selection.

Was arrested at 15 for beating the shit out of Jessica’s children’s father. The father beat Jessica and once Soap figured that out he nearly killed the man. The man fucked off and never came back and therefore charges got dropped

Only Gaz knew about that story until he let it slip while drinking and said “Isn’t that crazy?” Ghost casually responded with “Eh, hasn’t everyone?” completely seriously. Gaz just sort of stood there confused for a moment and decided not to bring it up again.

Ghost actually brought it up to Soap later and instead of a stern talking to like he expected, Ghost said “I always knew you were a good man. Glad to know you were an outstanding lad, too.”

Soap cried about that. Like. Actually teared up at the praise.

He was attacked by a neighborhood dog when he was 7, has never fully gotten over that fear.

Multiples run in both sides of his family, his mother was in a set of triplets and his father is an identical twin. Needless to say, massive family.

General

Avid letter writer and journal keeper, likes to tear out pages of his journal to keep his niece and nephew back home entertained. 

He has a small flat in Glasgow that he pays the triplets to keep tidy while he’s away. Will visit his family frequently when home but does not typically stay the night.

His hobbies include sketching, painting, and football. Makes his own watercolor paints, and roasts his own charcoals. His favorite medium is ballpoint pen, and his favorite subject is portrait. 

Has a terrible habit of chewing the tops off of his ballpoint pens, meaning he always has a few uncapped ones lying around

Price makes him run laps for this, but the only thing stronger than soap's stamina is his need to chew plastic. 

Has a sketchbook dedicated to each member of the 141, portraits, still lifes, likes and dislikes, etc.

Ghost’s is by far the most filled out, he would never admit it though.

Has sketched a ghost's face at least a hundred times, same with his tattoo. Chronic artist about it though, never thinks it’s any good. 

Ghost saw it once. 

He thought it was perfect and had to snuff out the urge to burn it. 

Secretly flustered about how handsome soap draws him. 

“That’s how he sees me? Fuckin’ hell. He thinks I’m hot.” 

Soap, does indeed, think Ghost is hot.

Gaz Gifted him a Christmas Gift in an old Soapbox, thinking it was the funniest thing ever. Since then, Soap only ever gives out people’s birthday and Christmas presents in soap boxes, much to Gaz’s dismay.

The gift was a shitty “Bodice Ripper” novel, signed by the author that Gaz picked up at a flea market. Soap read the thing when he ran out of paper to draw in on a mission and discovered he actually really enjoys the kitsch of them.

Gaz thinks it's funny, Price doesn’t comment, and Ghost fucking hates it.

Soap also has a terrible habit of reading the steamy parts aloud to mess with Ghost who originally started asking him what was going on in the books to try and get a rise out of Soap. Ghost regrets it immensely. 

Has no shame about most things. Owns lingerie, and he will wear lacy thongs in public showers to make others uncomfortable. Absolutely owns a pair of cartoon red-heart-on-white background boxers that he wears

Gets Gaz to pants him during the last day of recruit training while wearing the boxers. Never gets old. 

Has found a way to cheat at every single card game. 

Still never wins. 

Take out of choice is Chinese. Is a good cook but always ends up setting the smoke alarm off, even when not using the oven or stove. 

Is not allowed to use the microwave anymore after… the incident…

Has put all of his body care products into dish soap bottles so it looks to new recruits like he’s using Dawn Dish Detergent as a mouthwash.

Cuts and styles his own hair. 

Social Smoker, his mom, in particular, hates it, he picked up the habit in basic and has never been able to fully quit. Only 1-2 cigs a day, though.

Knows a little bit of Scottish Gaelic, mostly just words and phrases that get tossed around a lot. Couldn’t write it or converse in it, but will quote words/phrases casually

Not as religious anymore, but does still pray.

Would like to get married in a church and have a big family (which could include adoption), and live somewhere in the lowlands once he retires. No plans, as of current. 

Soap's most toxic trait is his pride, nothing gets him angrier faster than being underestimated in any regard and he takes everything personally. Ghost being cold to him? Personal. He is going to befriend him if it's the last thing he does. Graves betrayal? Personal. Johnny will survive in a burning city just to prove to himself that he may be stupid enough to get burned but not weak enough to burn. Not being able to do something perfectly on the first try? Personal. He has a weakness and it is his fault and he will do it until he gets it right. He may be a fighter in every sense of the word, and his pride might get him the win, but there's always a bigger foe- and it's always himself.

Talents, Special Bonds, ETC.

Really good at Caricature drawing, occasionally recruits will commission caricatures from him.

Chronic prankster along with Gaz. The difference is that Gaz either charms his way out of it or avoids getting caught in the first place.  Soap is really obvious and accepts punishment too readily to get out of trouble. 

Price is the hardest on Soap because he sees Soap as a protege, while Soap knows that it is technically positive attention, he is a little bitter that others get away with stuff he just can't

The reason he gets along so well with Ghost is that even though he's naturally abrasively charismatic, he does not ask hard questions. He is very much a "You tell me what you want to tell me and not a thing more, and if that means you tell me nothing, I guess we'll just sit around quietly and that's cool by me" type of guy. He gained that outlook from being the only boy in a household of girls, he is incredibly emotionally intelligent in that way.

Gaz is the best with infants, but Soap is the best with kids. The second a kid is crying, he has already distracted them and they're off playing. He can handle about a dozen children at once with no problem, and therefore he is the best with new recruits.

Mental math talents are off the charts, also has a terribly uncanny ability to look at any object and say "yeah. I will need x amount of C4 for that." And he is always right.

[alyosiuscreightonward]

Dear Diary. It started some years ago when I was living in TX. I had passed my first kidney stone and fuck it was not a pleasant experience. I was really high on the medication they gave me. I clearly remember that the nurse asked me how I was feeling. I told her that I was at 72K feet yet the pain was still at eleven or twelve. She was aghast and got up to the doctor. He came in and asked me the same questions. I’m sure he didn’t know what to think but he ordered something else for the IV. I leveled out and the pain went down to tolerable and then they sent me home. I got home, took 3 Advil Liquigels and a few hits of a joint and went to sleep.

Just recently I passed another kidney stone or two. Again nearly the same experience as before.

I went home and did some research on reputable sites and even the kidney foundation. I learned a lot. The processed foods that I was eating are a contributing factor in this equation. All the salt and sugar are the names of things that are nearly impossible to pronounce correctly are fucking up my kidneys.

I went to the urologist and he told me that more tests are required. The diagnosis is Gross Hematuria. Blood in my urine.

Some of things that are important to learn about these kidney stones is that they are not good. Possibly heart disease. Also prostate cancer, a family history. I know that it can be treated with surgery, a Transurethral Resection of The Prostrate and Radioactive Seeds. Then there are other treatments and surgeries.

Yet I’m conflicted.

I’ve never been so nervous. I’ve gone 99.9% vegan. I don’t cook with salt. I only put sugar in my coffee. Eating quinoa, wheat berry, lentils and other vegetables. It’s tough but I do it regardless.

As I contemplate my navel, I know I’ve been a douche bag and just an absolute jerk. I know that my life means nothing to you and my words have wounded you.

I am so sure that you will have nothing to say to me and now, you are on the precipice of getting your way and I’ve been trying to get to a point where I need to make a decision. Do I just roll with it and do all the things that my doctor suggests or do I ignore him? Peggy Lee once said, I’m not ready for that final disappointment.

I am.

I know that there plenty of words to describe me and I deserve them all and I will accept them all. I know that you are correct, I know nothing about your life. You know more about my life than anyone should because I am incapable of lying to you.

I’m not sure if you have seen my posts on Instagram but if you have, then you know.

Fuck. I’m sorry for existing.