#total refreshment centre

[onryou-onryou]

Total Refreshment Centre - Matters Unknown - "Eloquence" Feat. Miryam Solomon

[thousandisthemaximum]

Puntine #93 - Canzoni da ricordare questa settimana

https://www.dlso.it/site/2023/01/11/puntine-93-canzoni-da-ricordare/

[kerosene-in-a-blender]

I have to say it was really refreshing to have a Candela episode centred on a location that wasn't Newfaire. After three chapters focused pretty squared on the city it was nice to visit a totally different location and build out the world a little bit

[feminist-furby-freak]

Following after seeing your take on pregnancy and childbirth! It's refreshing to see as it does appear radblr can verge on antinatalism occasionally.

Understanding how significant and transformation birth can be, how it underpins the bond between mother and child and is crucial to societal cohesion - is still not synonymous with 'women are breeders and having children is awful and disgusting and women who want to be mothers have been brainwashed.'

I really think if society was more centred towards women and children instead of this male version we currently live in, having and raising children would be a lot easier and actually enjoyable for women.

For 95 percent of human civilization women were assisted with child rearing on a ratio of 15 caregivers to one child. Modern women have 3-4 alternative caregivers if they are lucky and extremely supported today. It's just so obvious to me why it's so difficult, we're all separated trying to do it alone when that's never how child rearing worked.

Random vent! But love to see rad doulas x

I totally agree. And I do understand why many radfems lean antinatalist when in our current patriarchal world pregnancy and motherhood are (very often) tools for oppressing women. The natural birth movement has largely been co-opted by the “women’s true purpose is to have babies” Christian extremist crowd but I’m lucky to live in a progressive city where this isn’t the case. I’m doing my thesis on childbirth and feminism and I’ll see if it there is a way to share it on here when it’s finished without doxxing myself.

[garadinervi]

Alabaster DePlume, Cremisan: Prologue To A Blade, (EP/Digital album), International Anthem, 2024

Honeycomb written, arranged, and mixed by Angus Fairbairn Performed by Alabaster DePlume and Sami El Enani Engineered by Angus Fairbairn

Cremisan written and arranged by Angus Fairbairn and Laith Ziad Albandak Performed by Alabaster DePlume and Laith Albandak Engineered by Radio Alhara

Gifts of Olive written, arranged, and mixed by Angus Fairbairn Performed by Alabaster DePlume Engineered by Angus Fairbairn

Honeycomb recorded in the Wonder Cabinet, Bethlehem, Palestine Cremisan recorded live in the Cremisan Valley, Bethlehem, Palestine Gifts of Olive recorded at Total Refreshment Centre, Dalston, London

If I must die from Gifts of Olive references the poet Refaat Alareer (1979-2023)

Cover image by Mikaela Burstow

Plus: Alabaster DePlume, Looking for my value: Prologue to a blade, (book), Design by Jamie Coull, Cover art by Ian Wright, Limited Edition, 2024

(Extra) Links: Radio Alhara, Edward Said National Conservatory of Music

[animasola86]

↓ A SPECIAL KIND OF BOND MASTERPOST

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!reader x sentient sex toy Genre: Smut/Filth // Words (total): 24k // [READ ON AO3]

Synopsis: After going skinny-dipping with Sebastian, you discover that you took a little souvenir from the depths of the Black Lake with you. As unexpected as it is, it quickly grows on you - and inside you.

Tagline: If penis-shaped, why not for pleasure?

General warnings: NSFW! Very explicit sexual content! A bit of teratophilia, a pinch of tentacles (but not the big kind, just a tickle), improvised magical sex toys (it's a small squid!), masturbation, unusual insertions, vaginal and anal sex, a hint of jealousy, an unusual threesome, the desire to breed, an excessive amount of cum, strange aphrodisiacs, oral sex, and a horny couple that just won't stop. (For the complete list of tags, go here.)

Notes: This is pure filth. The most depraved work I've ever written. And it gets worse as the chapters progress. Please mind the warning tags! Below the cut is a list of all 6 chapters with little snippets and links to their respective posts. Proceed at your own risk!

→ Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 ←

Chapter 1: A Special Bond (1.2k//AO3//Tumblr)

(...) A drawn-out cry of pure ecstasy leaves your throat as your eyes roll back, and you contort in the most blissful way for a moment, hips off the bed, shoulders pressed into the mattress and knees shaking under the exertion.

The thing inside you changes its pattern, rubbing harder, half of its tentacles focused on your clit, the others joining the bigger one in your warm depths, stroking your insides through your release by pushing in and out in a strange kind of rhythm.

You're a whimpering mess as you collapse onto the bed again, body still quivering, twitching uncontrollably, your breaths as erratic as they can be, and under the forceful ministrations of those tendrils, you keep riding the high, head empty, heart thundering, mouth wide open as your noises fall past dry lips. (...)

Read more: AO3 // Tumblr

Chapter 2: A Special Guest (2.9k//AO3//Tumblr)

(...) You feel the cold current brushing against your heated centre again, a welcome refreshment after the exhausting rubbing and clenching, and you could swear you could still feel his cock twitching inside you even though it brushes against your stomach now, spent and relaxed.

You don't pay it any mind as you kiss him hungrily, rubbing your pelvis into his almost needily. Sebastian groans into your mouth, looking at you out of hooded eyes, before he complies and brings his hand back to your folds, gently caressing them before dipping his fingers back into your warmth. As he curls them inside you, you gasp against his lips, your eyes flying open as a deep shudder jolts through your body. As expertly as he usually fingers you, always finding the right spot to stimulate, you feel as if there's something else pressing against your walls, adding to the sensation.

Your breath quickens, and you can barely think about it as you come around his fingers once more, completely overwhelmed by the sudden orgasm piercing through your nerves. Tumbling against his chest, you hold onto him breathlessly, too light-headed to wonder about anything at this point. Your muscles contract, and he keeps stroking your insides with his fingertips, what he usually does to ease you down from your high, but this time it feels as if he's only pushing you further, up and up, the gentle touch too much to handle as you keep whimpering helplessly under the constant strain to your muscles.

It's when you feel both of his hands on your cheeks that your eyes fly open in slight shock, because the teasing continues inside your walls as if his fingers were still in your warmth. (...)

Read more: AO3 // Tumblr

Chapter 3: A Special Roommate (1k//AO3//Tumblr)

(...) Tilting your head, you lean slightly closer, your own eyes still wide and terrified as you think about the fact that this thing has been inside you, probably while Sebastian has fucked you against the rock as well.

That tiny thing has heightened your sexual experience, and for that reason alone, you can't be mad at it. You feel drawn to it. You reach out your other hand and extend a finger to touch it, and it flinches away at first, but then stops moving as you stroke your fingertip over its long body. It feels cold to the touch, wet and soft, and you wonder how something so squishy could have an impact on your equally squishy walls.

As if reading your mind, you feel it moving under your touch, and it seems to harden right there on your palm, its soft skin turns into something more akin to a shell, rigid and unrelenting, and you gasp quietly as you feel a pulse throbbing through its small body. That's what you've been feeling. The pinching sensation. (...)

Read more: AO3 // Tumblr

Chapter 4: A Special Need (6.2k//AO3//Tumblr)

(...) Moaning against his lips you feel the tension inside your stomach erupting into a wave of pure pleasure as it washes over you with a force that makes your thighs twitch, your toes curl and your muscles contract violently, and in doing so you feel your insides convulsing, moving, and in your haze you barely feel the gentle caresses of these eight little arms you've grown to love so much over the last weeks. Yet once you realize that the squid is about to slip from your bum, it is already too late.

Despite being caught in his own haze as he ruts into your core with reckless abandon, he seems to feel the foreign touch as well, and you see it all unfold in slow motion. You feel too weak to do anything as your orgasm still shudders through your body, as your walls clamp down on his cock, your limbs too twitchy to control, so when his brown eyes widen slowly before he leans back on his knees and stares down at your connection, you don't have to see the tentacles wrapping themselves around his base to know what's going on.

With a deep growl that could also be a yelp or guttural scream, Sebastian jolts off you, slips from your depths as if you've never even been connected, and takes several steps away from the couch, completely ignoring his precum leaking cock, as his shaking hand points at the small creature crawling over your centre. Yet it's not the fact that there is a strange little squid seemingly coming from nowhere that has touched him at the most inappropriate time, it's the fact that you remain so calm and collected as you lie on your back, looking from the squid to your boyfriend and back, and not sharing in his panic.

That's when he explodes.

“What the fuck is that?” he yells with an anger you haven't heard from him in years. (...)

Read more: AO3 // Tumblr

Chapter 5: A Special Night (3.6k//AO3//Tumblr)

(...) You feel so full you can barely breathe, barely think. Your chest is pressed into the cushions of the couch, head turned, eyes squeezed shut, tears of bliss and exhaustion spilling from your lashes. Your rear is raised, hips held by two strong hands, wet squelching noises fill the room with every rapid thrust into your stretched hole as a warm body slams against your cushioned backside.

Your mouth hangs open, saliva dripping from the corner, unintelligible noises tumbling over swollen lips. You feel hot and cold at the same time, goosebumps rippling over your skin like waves, shivers and shudders crawling under your skin, as you flinch and wince with every motion directed against your core.

And it's not just the thick cock pressed into your tight little bum, trying to penetrate as deep as your bowels, it's the thing squirming inside your erratically clenching cunt that seems to drive the pace of this whole endeavour.

The not-so-little-anymore squid thrashes between your convulsing walls, hard and rigid and seemingly bigger than ever before as it fills you out completely, to the point you feel your entrance gaping as its eight tentacles slither in and out, assaulting your clit, rubbing and flicking and pulling, each of them pressing against your sensitive skin teasingly. (...)

Read more: AO3 // Tumblr

Chapter 6: A Special Kind of Liquid (8.8k//AO3//Tumblr)

(...) Loud groans and grunts fill your ears as you lie beneath Sebastian's broad body, motionless, spent and at your absolute limit, yet he doesn't seem to care as he ruts into you with unrelenting speed and power, pounding his length deep inside your tight space, each stab accompanied by wet squelching noises followed by shrill squeaks falling from your aching throat every time he prods your cervix almost brutally.

It feels as if he's splitting you right open, his weight and strength pushing you into the cushions, fingers gripping soft flesh, adding to the already existing bruises. And deep inside you is a throbbing sensation, making your muscles clench tighter and tighter around whatever occupies your cavities. You cry out soundlessly, body squirming and writhing, fighting the overwhelming assault on your senses.

Something warm floods your bowels, that burning liquid, oozing from the squid, seeping into your flesh, numbing the tension. You feel it stirring inside you, woken by the ruthless pistoning of the thick cock, whose bulging veins scrape over your sensitive flesh, whose thick head almost pierces your womb, whose girthy shaft rubs along your stretched entrance. Heavy balls slap against your bum, causing the creature lodged within to move with every thrust.

Your mind slips then, as exhaustion grips you, pulls you along, drags you into the darkness as everything happening to you fades to black... (...)

Read more: AO3 // Tumblr

→ Tumblr links: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

→ AO3 link: A Special Kind of Bond

[ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

[skepticdoe]

so I just started reading ‘Mysterion Begins’ AGAIN, and if you guys don’t know what that is, it’s a 3 part K2/kysterion series with the second fic being creek centred

I definitely like this series a lot especially because of the fact that you can see the close relationship between Stan Kenny and Kyle which is something that is sometimes neglected during k2 fics

Stan is the BIGGEST worrywart in this fic and it’s nice to see him be the neurotic concerned one for once instead of Kyle. You can definitely still see the platonic Style within the series. Jimmy and Tolkein are also important recurring characters which is SO refreshing because you rarely see them in fics

anyways I LOVE this fic and you guys should totally read in ao3 <3

[treason-and-plot]

Connor walks to his car parked in the council carpark behind the Llama Bar, trying to analyze his feelings. Chief among them is shock, followed by something he is having difficulty identifying, but which has lodged a cold hard ball in the centre of his chest. The streets are deserted, and he can still hear laughter and conversation from the Llama Bar, floating through the air on a raft of smooth Jazz music. The hardness in his chest grows denser and colder. Then his phone buzzes. He scoffs at the name that appears on the screen.

“Connor,” says Saffron. “I need a favour.”

“Really,” says Connor. Saffron explains that she left her Introductory Macroeconomics book in her school locker and without it she can’t study for their test on Monday.

“Can I borrow your copy?” she says.

“I need my copy,” he says. “I need to study too, obviously.”

“Maybe we could study together?” says Saffron. “You still need tutoring, right? I mean, you did really badly on that test last week. I saw your mark when Mrs Fisher was passing back the papers. 45%. Ouch.”

“I thought you didn’t want to tutor me anymore,” says Connor.

“Listen, Connor. I need your text book and you need my help,” says Saffron. “It’s a simple barter transaction. You do remember what bartering is, don’t you? The direct exchange of goods or services for other goods or services without reference to money or money value. Economics 101.”  

“Yeah, thanks for the refresher,” says Connor. “Okay, I’m in. Do you want me to come over now? The book’s in my car.”

“Now? Sure,” says Saffron. “Wait. Are you alone?”

“Oh, yeah,” says Connor. “Totally alone."

[inspector-montoya-fox]

let me hop onto this kinda underrated but definitely outdated post for a minute and ask: did Dr Michael PhD know about Clockwerk? it's not like i want the owl to be the ultimate catalyst in Sly's life - he was the end-all be-all for two games, it was time to move on for sure - but at the same time murdering an entire lineage of raccoons isn't um something you stumble upon everyday ?

i know how enticing it can be to want to connect all the dots when writing sequels and i'm so happy SP didn't pull a Roman Bridger told Billy Loomis to become Ghostface with Clockwerk and Dr Michael. actually, when you think about it, Sly 3 resists the urge to bring up Clockwerk in any way, which is very respectable. the way the game connects to the other two is through the aftermath of ClockLa (which is hardly mentioned) and returning villains as new gang members. if we removed those from the equation, Sly 3 could be a standalone entry. it's a very refreshing game after, again, two games that centre around Clockwerk and his subsequent resurrection but it's also a bit jarring to think that he is barely (or not at all?) mentioned during a game that involves two characters who worked for him as well as one who used his own tail feathers. at times it feels like the game is deliberately going out of its way to tiptoe around the subject.

personally, Honour Among Thieves left a lot to be desired, especially as the final episode not only of the game but of the series. more specifically, i love Dr Michael's conversation with Bentley so much but i feel like it was too little too late. i get that it acted as a climax for the 'Bentley wants to step out of Sly's shadow' storyline but the conversation gave birth to so many huge implications that it felt like we were just then getting to the juicy bits. why does Dr Michael have such vitriol for ConnEr Cooper? what happened between the gang members? was ConnEr truly a piece of shit or is it all Dr Michael's perspective? did every Cooper have a Bentley and Murray figure in their life?

whereas the player got to know Neyla through her various appearances throughout Sly 2, Dr Michael's character development is put on pause due to the fact that Sly 3's episodes aren't interconnected via the common thread of "a gang of villains". as a result, many questions arise in the final episode and never get answered. one of them being: what's his connection to Clockwerk? as highlighted in the paragraph above, there are other questions that are easily prioritised over this one because they are pointed at during the conversation with Bentley. that being said, it feels a bit bizarre for Dr Michael to not even bring up Clockwerk once. when he first sees Sly he thinks it's ConnEr, which raises the question 'does he even know about Clockwerk murdering ConnEr in the first place?' that's definitely one possibility. the gang dispersed and when ConnEr settled down as a family man, that's when Clockwerk came into the picture. ok! probable scenario...

... but idk i'm not really buying it. i don't want to be the tin foil hat girlie and i'm truly not, like in terms of narrative logic it makes total sense. but from a consistency standpoint, how can you create a character that is actually portrayed as more of an omnipresent, all-powerful entity, the literal embodiment of evil, to then just have him go *poof* ? Clockwerk is the stain on the Cooper legacy, the Cooper killer and Dr Michael, who prides himself on hating ConnEr so much, has no idea who he is? the evil scientist who is infatuated with the Coopers and creates animal hybrids doesn't know about the owl robot that survives on Cooper hate? mama what are the odds. again, i'm against trying to unnecessarily connect all the dots, but even a mention would suffice. cutscene appearance even. like what if Dr Michael acted as this Judas figure who approached Clockwerk post gang breakup and spilled on how to track down ConnEr or some sort of secret? it would also help flesh out Clockwerk's character posthumously, which i find so clever. this is something discussed on the new episode of Safehouse Chats btw (shameless plug-in sis), where we debate whether or not Clockwerk benefits from being shrouded in total mystery. as for my initial question? i think Dr Michael bottomed for Clockwerk. block me

[oomfvia]

⛧i'll fight for your life chapter 1: heaven is a place in my head

pairing: astarion/gender-neutral half-elf paladin tav/reader (second person)

spoilers for patch 5 epilogue

sfw, friends to lovers :)

1,975 words (3 chapters, 6,097 total words)

you can also read this work on ao3

likes/comments/reblogs always appreciated!

❥ chapter 2 ❥ chapter 3

preview:

Your moral compass looms heavily over your head, and it declares that the beauty of Astarion’s vulnerability was not to be indulged in. Instead, it was meant to be nurtured and protected. In this moment, you remember your vows. Tenets of honour and duty, tracing back from your gallant predecessors. What is love, if not the desire to shield?

The words tumble out of your mouth a touch too quickly. It’s merely an observation, although an admittedly astute one.

“Maybe what you really need is a friend, not a lover.”

Astarion responds stiltedly, with an awkwardness that you find refreshing. Endearing, even. “I — I would like that.”

Tentatively, he brings his hand to yours. Then, another. You bring your gaze upwards and peer into his amber eyes. Upon further observation, they were trembling ever so slightly.

You realise that at this moment, you’ve doomed yourself to a future of dishonesty. Unbefitting of a truly good ally, you like Astarion so much you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your group was traversing the shadow-cursed lands, facing death at every turn. And yet, here you are, your heart racing over the touch of a hand like a virginal nun.

That same night, you sigh into your pillow. Despite your attempts to stifle the protests of your heart against your head, they haunt your thoughts, mixing together with other internal arguments about the so-called ‘greater good’. The greater details are lost on you, with the only resounding conclusion in your head being that you’re a dirty, dirty liar.

Raising your upper body, you resign yourself to a restless night. You turn to peer into a mirror perched upon the sparsely-furnished table in your tent, your own reflection staring back at you in a way that feels hilariously accusatory. Sighing, you remember the feeling of Astarion’s palm under yours, cool to the touch. You remember how in stark contrast, his eyes seemed uncharacteristically warm. He trusts you. Only you, perhaps. And what did you have to show for it? Lust? Love?

Your moral compass looms heavily over your head, and it declares that the beauty of Astarion’s vulnerability was not to be indulged in. Instead, it was meant to be nurtured and protected. In this moment, you remember your vows. Tenets of honour and duty, tracing back from your gallant predecessors.

What is love, if not the desire to shield?

Surely, this is for the best. A half-elf’s life, while still terribly long, seems like hours compared to the eternity Astarion was decidedly sentenced to. Sighing again in resignation, you toss your back against the bedroll, staring into the ceiling of your small, unremarkable tent. Look at me, dwelling upon decisions that can’t be taken back.

At least there’s one thing you can be certain of: You hate Cazador Szarr. Sure, you were already eager to sink your blade into the monster just from Astarion’s anecdotes alone. But within minutes of meeting him in this decrepit dungeon, your blood is left positively boiling. It’s hardly befitting of a paladin to be motivated by personal vengeance, but Cazador seems to test your patience to no end. You unsheathe your blade, muttering a guiding prayer under your breath: “Bright wit, clear thought, keen sight.”

When Cazador is brought to his knees, you do your utmost to maintain razor-sharp focus. It was far from over, and in the back of your mind, you worry that this part may be harder to endure than the battle itself. This is a scenario you’ve played thousands of times in your head, but at this moment, you lose every single prepared line. You’re left with nothing but a twisting sensation at the centre of your chest.

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

Astarion was asking you for help. You. The same person he had mocked and ridiculed for their naïve righteousness. And yet, you knew from the moment that you flung open the doors to this dungeon that you were going to disappoint him.

“I…I shouldn’t do this. We shouldn’t do this.”

You frown at how your voice wavers. It doesn’t do much in the way of persuasiveness.

“I won’t have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I’ll be free — truly, completely free. Isn’t that what you want?”

In comparison, Astarion’s argument lacks any logical flaw. It goes without saying that you want nothing more than Astarion’s freedom. He’s been deprived of the power to break this never-ending cycle of abuse he was thrust into for centuries. You would be cruel to fail him now.

Except, when you meet Astarion’s gaze, in place of hope you find desperation. A chill runs down your spine at the thought of what that desperation could spell for the future. Silently, you pray that he will forgive you when this is all said and done.

“But what I want is for you to stay…you. For you to live a life you can be proud of. Please.”

You feel wet tears pricking the corners of your eyes, and when you blink, they slowly roll over your cheekbones. You’ve survived nautiloid crashes and fights against the Chosen of gods. And yet, this is the first time anyone’s seen you openly weep. It’s embarrassing — mortifying, really, how your heart bleeds for Astarion.

But when the aggressive, uncontrollable flame in Astarion’s eyes starts to yield, you feel nothing but pure relief.

Astarion stabs Cazador repeatedly, in an almost manic show of violence. It’s all gore and blood, and you should find it abhorrent. Instead, there’s an almost poetic sense of beauty to it as you watch through teary, glistening eyes. While his old master’s blood pools onto the floor, Astarion sobs, chest heaving as his emotions peak. It reminds you that no matter how highly you thought of the man, in Cazador’s palace, Astarion was always reduced to a mere boy.

Thankfully, the spawn are all spared, none of them sacrificed to the Black Mass. Astarion leaves his siblings to help with the aftermath, as the spawn begin their journey to the Underdark. Rather short, as family reunions go. But considering how dreadful the place is, the last thing you want to do is complain.

When you push open the doors back to town, you’re surprised to see that it’s only late afternoon outside, the sun still in the middle of its descent. The dungeon was so ominously dark, as if shrouded in a permanent night. It reminds you of the Gauntlet of Shar, in that sense.

“It’s a bit early, but…”

You inhale deeply, taking in the fresh air of freedom. Glancing towards your right, you notice that Astarion does the same.

“Let’s rest for the day.”

Unsurprisingly, no one objects. The sombre atmosphere doesn’t leave your group immediately, the journey back to the Elfsong Tavern remaining quiet. However, when you push open the doors, rushes of laughter and merrymaking pour out. It helps, even if only by a margin, to calm the deafening silence.

“You know, you ought to speak with him in private,” Shadowheart says, twirling a night orchid between her fingers. Upon further inspection, you notice that it’s the one you had plucked for her back in the shadow-cursed lands, its petals starting to wilt at the ends.

You raise your eyebrows at her, to which she does the same. “You have a soft spot for him. It shows.”

“My people claim what they covet,” Lae’zel chimes in. “It would be wise for you to do the same.”

It’s so incredibly in-character for the warrior to say so, and it makes you laugh for the first time since dawn broke. How stoic, and yet, how reassuring.

Your companions leave for the tavern downstairs, relenting camp to you and Astarion for the time being. Rather than reading a book, Astarion sits at the edge of his bed, seemingly lost in thought. His fingers are loosely interconnected together as he stares off into the far corner of the room. It’s as if time has stilled around him.

“Copper for your thoughts?” You ask, imitating a familiarly husky tone.

Astarion laughs weakly, and you internally applaud yourself for your successful attempt at humour.

“Karlach could have your head for that terrible impression, my dear.”

You smile, your eyebrows firmly lowered. “Thank you. Now, do you need someone to talk to or not?”

“Need is a strong way to put it, but since you’re already here to listen…”

When your friends, pleasantly buzzed, climb up the stairs to return to camp, you and Astarion have somehow gotten comfortable on the floorboards. The two of you sit with your backs against the bed frame, with only your heads lying on the mattress. Your shoulder is pressed firmly against Astarion’s as the two of you stare off into the ceiling blankly.

“Astarion?” You call out softly, your eyes unmoving.

“Yes, dear?”

Dear. Darling. What was it with Astarion and these terms of endearment? For what seems like the hundredth time, you tell yourself not to read too much into it all. You roll your head to the side, gazing at his profile. You clear your throat, trying and failing to ignore how delicately crafted it is.

“I’m proud of you.”

Your statement, in all its honesty, is far from imaginative. And yet, Astarion’s mouth hangs ajar, as if at a loss for words. From your place beside him, you can see the faintest glimpse of a sharpened fang.

“I...Thank you.”

You let out a throaty laugh at this rare example of awkwardness from Astarion, who always seems to make an effort to appear suave. It’s charmingly amusing, and your shoulders raise as you continue giggling, waking up a mid-nap Scratch in the process. Scratch dashes towards your side, and you smile lovingly as you give the good boy a good series of pats on the head. In your reverie, you miss how Astarion’s gaze follows you, a faint trace of affection flickering in his amber eyes.

When everyone is preparing to go to bed, you ask Gale about how you could possibly procure a certain item. You ask him plainly about whether there was any magical item that could allow a vampire to walk under the sun’s rays. He tells you about the Ring of the Sunwalker, about stories that seem more like urban legend than fact. As for its whereabouts...

“If I had any ideas, trust me — you’ll be the first to find out.”

You inhale, ready to ask why, but then the wizard’s smile spreads into a knowing grin. Shadowheart’s words echo in your head.

“You have a soft spot for him. It shows.”

Instead, you simply rub at your temples, your ears slightly tinted pink. You're grateful, despite the slight embarrassment you had to ensure. You thank Gale for his helpfulness, and bid him a friendly goodnight.

Weeks after, you defeat the Netherbrain, but with no sunlight-shielding ring to show for it. Your face contorts in horror as you're forced to watch Astarion’s skin start to sear under the sunlight. He runs away from the unrelenting rays, presumably to crawl back to the shadows.

Becoming the saviour of Baldur’s Gate felt odd, more than anything. You were no hero. You were merely a servant. A daft one, even. Who else but a complete fool would leave their other companions without a word, instead opting to chase after a doomed vampire spawn?

Before your mind can even take a second to react, your body lunges forward. Ignoring how your chest heaves and your calves ache, you sprint desperately along paved roads and between alleys, expertly weaving past crowds of celebrating citizens and buildings waiting to be rebuilt. Astarion couldn’t have run far, surely.

Realistically, it's for the best to just let Astarion go, allowing him to dissolve into the dark. You can forget all about silver curls, hands that run cold, and how each piece to the puzzling elf made your chest tighten. But this can’t be the last time you see him. You don’t want it to be.

Of course, you realise just how futile your chase was when you hit a dead end, coming face-to-face with a brick wall. You’ve overestimated yourself for even hoping that you could catch up to someone with centuries of experience of living among the shadows.

[senorboombastic]

“You have so much to learn when you collaborate with other people” - An interview with Rozi Plain

Words: Andy Hughes The preamble for this interview has literally been derailed in the past 24 hours with the news that Rozi Plain, the Winchester raised artist of solo adventures and This Is The Kit fame, will be opening up for Paramore this spring! Bloody nora! Alright, right back down to earth. You see, before that massive slice of news received this week, there was a slightly smaller matter…

[formulauno98]

Once Upon a Time in France | Chapter Eight // Part Two

Life is funny, the way it can turn on its head in a matter of seconds. Sometimes it happens naturally, sometimes it's helped along by friends or foes, and in your case, it would be the latter.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Angsty angst (Sorry guys!)

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction, no-one is married in this alt-universe.

SATURDAY AM

Following your x-rated beach romp, you and Toto had decided it was wise to spend the night apart as your motorhomes were so far away from each other and yours was in sight of prying eyes, aka Lara. You tossed and turned all night, having gotten used to falling asleep in the comfort of Toto’s arms, so when you woke early on Saturday morning you felt anything but refreshed.

Rubbing your eyes, you leant across your bed to reach for your phone where it was charging. Three new messages.

(08:03) Morning my love. The FIA has called a meeting so I can’t go yet. I promise I will go afterwards. I hope you are okay and got some sleep. X

(08:10) Actually I will go now. X

(08:21) Ignore that, Stefano caught me. I am so sorry I know you are worried. X

You knew it was going to be tricky this morning and sighed as you considered the possible consequences of last night's actions. Surely a one-time slip-up was not going to get you pregnant, and as he said, Toto was a slightly older man, but then again stranger things had happened.

You typed out a reply.

Morning, hope you slept okay too. No worries, I will ask around in the medical centre just in case. Don’t panic xx

Groaning as you got out of bed, you quickly got ready for the day, trying your best to cover up the dark circles that had appeared under your eyes. So much for a romantic getaway and relieving stress.

———

As you strode through the paddock towards the medical centre, you prayed you wouldn’t run into anyone you knew. For once luck was on your side and you made it unscathed and uninterrupted to the small motorhome normally reserved for injured drivers or mechanics who had had an accident.

Knocking awkwardly on the door, you hoped someone would be there already. 

“Come in.” called out a voice from inside. 

Opening the door, you took a deep breath. “Hi, how are you?” you said to the woman sitting inside the trailer.

“Very well thank you, how can I help?”

Suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable, you shifted nervously, “Well… the thing is, I was wondering if you happen to have the morning-after pill?”

The woman’s eyes widened in surprise, it was obviously not a common request during race weekend.

“Oh.” she said, taken aback, “Let me see. I’m not sure if we do to be totally honest.”

She busied herself at the shelving unit behind where she had been sat, rifling through boxes and boxes of pills and potions.

“Ooh you’re in luck,” she said, pulling out a dusty-looking box.

“For real?” you thanked whatever Gods were currently watching over you.

“Hang on, hang on, I think it’s out of date.” she said, scanning the box, “I’m so sorry, you can’t take it if it’s expired, it won’t work.”

“Shit.” you said under your breath, “Do you think anywhere nearby will have them?”

The woman grimaced, “To be honest no, but I could ask the paramedics to bring some when they come up later?”

Your eyes lit up, “Oh my gosh if you could that would be amazing! Can I leave you my phone number?”

“I can’t promise but I will try.” the woman said kindly, “Sure, let me grab a pen and paper and I’ll call you if they bring them.”

You quickly scrawled your number on the post-it note, thanking the woman profusely for her help before making your way back towards the Mercedes hospitality area. Hopefully, it meant that you would be okay. Not sure if Toto was still in the FIA meeting you decided to drop him a text.

Good news, I went to the medical centre and they’re going to get it for me. Panic over xx

As you walked along you felt your phone buzz. He was obviously out of the meeting.

Good 

From the length of his text, perhaps he was still in the meeting. A weight off your mind, you felt much better about the day before you as you made your way up to your office.

“Morning Y/N.” It was a joy to see the friendly face of Rosie as you walked through the hospitality area.

“Hey Rosie, how are you?” you said, stopping to chat for a minute.

“Good thanks, George is being a weirdo though,” she said, her pretty face screwed up.

“What, how come?” you said, concerned as she’d never complained to you about her normally doting boyfriend.

“I don’t know. He didn’t want me to stay in his motorhome last night,” she said, her eyes looking like they were on the brink of tears.

“Aw no Rosie,” you said, slipping an arm around her shoulders, “I’m sure he was just getting into the racing mindset.”

“But we always stay together now,” she said sadly.

A sudden thought hit you, “I wonder, his motorhome is more or less attached to Toto’s. Maybe he was uncomfortable with it?”

Rosie’s eyes lit up, “Oh, maybe! But Toto wouldn’t say anything,” she lowered her voice, “Especially not when you’re there.”

“I wasn’t actually,” you said absentmindedly.

“Really?” asked Rosie.

“I promise. We both needed a rest,” you said tactfully.

“Oh, ok, this makes me feel better,” she said, looking much happier than she had done a moment ago.

“Happy to help. Honestly, I’m sure that’s it,” you said reassuringly.

“Thanks, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said, smiling.

“Probably more of your job,” you said laughing. “Right, I have to go and actually work, I’ll see you 

around okay?”

“See you,” Rosie said as you made your way towards the stairs up to your office.

———

The morning flew by, full of endless calls and emails. But you still hadn’t heard a peep from Toto. Starting to get concerned, you were about to drop him a text when he came bursting into your office.

“Well hello stranger,” you said smiling, your face immediately dropping as you saw his thunderous expression.

“Did you not see?” he asked exasperatedly.

“See what?” you asked, wondering what could have him in such a panic. Was it a car emergency? Was 

one of the drivers sick?

Toto sat down on your small sofa, his head in his hands. “Sky.”

“Sky?” you repeated. “They’re normally okay, what happened?”

“Christian,” he said. 

At this point you were concerned, Toto had a temper but this wordless fury was something you’d never seen before.

“Toto, I know Christian’s a dick. What’s new?” you said.

As he’d been scrolling through his phone, Toto had found the clip he was looking for and silently passed it across the table. It was footage from after the FIA meeting. Sky had collared Toto and Christian and they were side by side looking deeply uncomfortable.

“So, any upgrades for this weekend Toto?” asked Johnny, the Sky reporter.

Just as Toto had opened his mouth to answer, Christian butted in, “Toto’s got himself a whole new ride, didn’t you hear Johnny?”

Although Johnny was off camera, you could tell that he was uncomfortable from his response, “What do you mean Christian?”

“He’s got a hot, young girlfriend following him around the paddock,” said Christian smugly.

Beside him, Toto looked beyond furious, as if he was trying his hardest not to punch Christian then and 

there.

Ever the professional, Johnny replied, “That’s interesting Christian, but I think our viewers are more interested in Mercedes’ performance for the weekend as opposed to Toto’s. No offence Toto, I’m sure your new girlfriend is a lovely woman. Lucky lady!”

Pausing the video, you interjected, “This is not so bad Toto! Johnny handled it well.”

“No, there’s more,” said Toto glumly.

Playing the video once more, Christian quipped back “But Johnny you know her!”

“Do I?” asked the confused reporter.

“Yes, she’s their Director of Communications, Y/N, the one who’s always on Toto’s arm.” 

You could see Toto sitting across from you, balling his fists in silent rage, while on the video he looked livid once again.

To give him his due, Johnny tried to save the situation, “Well that’s lovely. Congratulations Toto, so I’ll try one more time. What upgrades have you brought?”

Stopping the video you sat back in your chair, feeling sick to your stomach.

“Fuck.” you said, looking at Toto.

“Fuck indeed,” he said. “I want to kill Christian.”

“Me too,” you said. “What is actually wrong with that man?”

Toto just shook his head, too angry to speak. As if on cue, your phone suddenly buzzed multiple times. It was the Comms Team Whatsapp group, blowing up as they had all seen the interview.

What’s this about you and Toto? 

OMG! Is this true?

Wtf is he on about?

“Fuck.” you exclaimed, once again, looking at Toto pleadingly. “It’s my team, all asking if it’s true.”

Toto sighed, rubbing his forehead, a nervous tic that always emerged when he was feeling the pressure. “Let me think for a moment.”

Sitting there awkwardly, you began to scroll through your email when a new one pinged through. It was from Pamela from HR, asking you to meet her on Monday. She’d obviously seen the video too and was not happy. 

“HR wants to see me on Monday,” you said fearfully.

“For real?” he replied, “Don’t talk to them I will.”

‘Toto…” you started.

“Don’t. It’s not fair for them to take it out on you,” he said, his eyes now full of concern. “I don’t say this often but I own a third of the team. What are they going to say to me?”

“That’s true.” you said, “Although now I have to handle this with our team and the media.”

Toto stood up, crossing over to where you sat, bending down to meet you at eye level, and taking your hands in his. “Look Y/N, it will be okay. We can downplay it with the team and I will take care of HR so you don’t need to worry?”

“Sure.” You said, “I hate that man.”

“Me too.” said Toto, leaning forward to nuzzle your neck, “I don’t want him to ruin things before they even have a chance to begin.”

“Me neither,” you said, kissing him softly square on the lips.

“Don’t worry, I will fix this.” he said, breaking the kiss, “I had better go. Let’s reconvene in the garage later.”

“Thank you,” you said.

———

Unlike your usual confident self, this situation had reduced you to hiding in your office for the rest of the morning, dreading the moment you had to walk into the garage later on. You knew eyes would be on you and Toto as Sky interviews tended to gain the most traction amongst the paddock.

Your phone had continued to blow up all morning, the only saving grace being that thankfully the news seemed to be very much contained within the Formula One microcosm so you had yet to face any scrutiny from your family and friends.

When the time came to make your way down, you stood up, straightening your team shirt and took some deep breaths. Nothing had really changed and you had to remember your trusty mantra, as the saying goes, today's news is tomorrow's chip paper. Hoping that qualifying would gloss over this bump, you got moving.

Entering the garage you were absolutely correct in your fears that eyes would be on you. Engineers who never normally blinked all did a double take, curious to see what all the fuss was about. Fortunately, Lewis came to your rescue.

“Hey Y/N, how's it going?” he said, hooking an arm over your shoulder in some kind of side hug.

“Good thanks, well… I’ve had better days. How are you?” you asked, managing a smile for the charming driver.

“Ah, don’t worry, people don’t care that much,” he said, aware of exactly what was bothering you.

“Tell that to HR,” you said quietly.

“HR?” Lewis’ eyebrows shot up, “Can’t Toto like overrule them?”

You smiled weakly, “That’s what he said.” 

“Yeah he will, don’t worry.” said Lewis, “I need to go and see the big man, want to go together so it’s less weird?”

Really appreciative of Lewis’ ability to navigate any social situation you nodded, following him through the maze of engineering equipment strewn around.

“Hey boss!” said Lewis, clapping his hands on the back of Toto’s shoulders where he sat hunched over a monitor, glowering.

Turning around Toto looked surprised to see you alongside Lewis. “Hello.” was all he managed.

“You okay?” asked Lewis, clearly concerned for his normally confident boss.

“Yes, sorry,” said Toto, turning back around to face the monitor.

Exchanging a puzzled look with you Lewis added, “I came over to ask you about this upgrade package.”

Tuning out their technical discussion your eyes swept the garage. Maybe Lewis was right and people really didn’t care. No one was giving you a second look, maybe all was well.

“Y/N.” you snapped out of your thoughts as Tom approached you, “Can I have a word?”

“Hi Tom,” you said somewhat robotically, “Sure, but I do have a lot to go through with this lot. Is it urgent?”

Looking bashful Tom replied, “No no it can wait. Talk later.” As he walked off you could see his eyes going back and forth between you and Toto. 

———

You weren't surprised, you knew that the team would be curious about your newly revealed relationship and Tom was always the first to find out gossip. As much as you felt guilty for keeping them in the dark, another part of you thought about the fact that the relationship was still very new and it would be extremely awkward at this point if it weren't to work out. Deciding to bite the bullet, you settled down on the stool beside Toto.

“Hey,” you said.

Toto flicked his head around quickly, barely acknowledging you with a quick “Hi” before going back to studying his monitor. On any other occasion his innate awkwardness would have made you laugh but today it felt as if it was apt.

SATURDAY PM

As qualifying got underway Toto barely took a second glance at you, something that as much as you wouldn't want to admit it put you out. He was always normally sneaking glances in the garage and the fact that now he was actively avoiding you was almost insulting. To make matters worse Lara had decided to come and sit down in the garage and you could feel her mean eyes boring into your back. You still couldn't understand her problem and you were absolutely sure that it ran deeper than just the fact that Toto had seen with the engineer. But that was another issue for another day.

Unfortunately, the day was going from bad to worse as you could see that Lewis and George were both struggling during qualifying. You knew it was especially bad when Bono, normally the world's calmest man, looked like he was about to panic. He was looking thoroughly perturbed by the results that he was seeing on his monitor and was struggling to keep cool on the radio as he spoke to Lewis.

Ultimately neither of the drivers made it out of Q2, a disappointing result for the team and one that definitely was not going to help Toto's bad mood. As the two drivers came in, hanging their heads in shame, you tried to get a little nearer to Toto to see to gauge what he wanted to do next. However, in the place of your normally warm boss turned boyfriend, you were met with a cold shoulder. He dismissed you every time you tried to get his attention, at one point spinning around so that his back was to you.

Pissed off by the way he was acting, you silently slid off of your stool and made your way over to Tom.

“Hey Tom, what was it that you wanted to speak about earlier?” you asked, still glancing over at Toto who looked positively raging.

Looking nervous Tom stuttered, “Well, that interview this morning… what was that? Is it true?”

You sighed, lowering your voice, “Look, Toto and I are close. You know that. But what Christian said is not true. He was just trying to wind up Toto once again.”

Tom looked slightly relieved at the news, “Thank fuck for that!”

Surprised by his reaction, you asked, “Why?”

Tom also lowered his voice, sneaking glances across the garage, “Well, he’s… Toto. He’s old and grumpy as fuck. I like him a lot but I couldn’t imagine you two…”

You laughed, “Naw, he’s a big old softie really.”

Tom’s eyes lit up, “Oh my God, it is true!”

Crossing your arms, you protested, “Not at all! I just think he gets a bad wrap.”

“Sure sure,” said Tom unconvinced, his eyes still playing tennis between you and Toto, who was now snapping at a poor engineer who seemed to have done something to displease him, “Such a catch.”

“Tom..” you said warningly. “Don’t you have some sponsors to be looking after anyway?”

“They all left for the day.” he said smugly, “I came down here to make sure Ben and Louis got some content with Lewis drinking Monster Energy.”

“Well then, maybe you should be doing that,” you said coldly, not thrilled with the way Tom was speaking to you, his manager.

He looked surprised by your cool tone but nodded in agreement, “Right boss. See you later.”

Your eyes still on Toto, you barely acknowledged Tom leaving your side. Thankfully, Sophie appeared as if from nowhere, always eager to help.

“Hi Y/N.” she said cheerily, her enthusiasm never going down, “How’s everything?”

“Great thank you,” you said, trying to buoy your mood.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Sophie asked eagerly.

“Yes actually, I have a few potential sponsors coming down tomorrow and I’d love to gift them some team merchandise, could you please organise this with Mo? I’ll forward you the email.”

“Sure,” said Sophie brightly, “Y/N, can I ask you something?”

Sighing, you braced yourself for a repeat of the conversation that you’d just had with Tom.

“Of course,” you said, trying to remain level-headed.

“Do you think I could invite a friend to a race soon?”

This was not what you were expecting at all, “Oh my gosh, of course, let me know which race and you can have some of my paddock pass allowance.”

Sophie looked thrilled, “Really? Thank you so much, you’re the best boss!”

Smiling, you replied, “Just let me know when.”

“Thank you, thank you!” she exclaimed, “Also, I hope this is not out of line but…”

“You saw the Sky interview?” you interjected.

“Yes,” she said meekly.

“Christian Horner is always looking for ways to wind up Toto. If you pardon my French, he was talking shit. As usual.”

Sophie looked a little shocked, “Oh. Okay, that makes sense, but isn’t that slander?”

“I suppose,” you said nonchalantly, knowing full well you couldn’t accuse him of that.

“That’s so weird of him.” She said, “Toto looks so angry, I’ve never seen him like this.”

You shrugged, “He gets like this sometimes.”

Sophie grimaced, “Well, good luck for your meeting with him. I will go back and sort the gifting for you.”

“Thanks, Sophie,” you said, grateful for your assistant. As annoying as she could be sometimes, her 

heart was in the right place and you were growing fonder of her by the day.

———

As you waited in Toto’s office for your usual post-qualifying debrief, you were nervous. He hadn’t ever been this cold towards you and you hoped beyond hope that Christian hadn’t ruined everything. The clock ticked on, and by the time he stormed in, he was twenty minutes late, again something very unlike him.

“Hi,” he said, taking his seat across from you and whipping out his iPad.

“Well hello to you too,” you said, put out by his abrupt tone.

“Sorry. I am just not in the mood,” he said, his shoulders tense as he furiously typed something on his iPad.

‘Okay.” you said, sensing that maybe it was time to go, “I can leave you in peace?”

Toto sighed, “No I don’t want that. Sorry”

“It’s okay, to be honest, what is there to say?” you said.

“Lots.” he said, slamming his iPad shut, “I’ve had the Board on the phone, they’re pissed.”

Your mouth dropped open, “The Board?”

“Yes.” he said wearily, “They’re not happy with me.”

“Fuck, Toto,” you said, not sure what to say.

“Indeed.” he said sharply, “After I spoke to HR, they told me that the Board requested they meet with you. Y/N they want you gone.”

Tears welling in your eyes, you thought about everything that had transpired, “Well. Then I guess we have no choice.”

Toto looked at you pleadingly, “No, we do. Pushing my feelings for you completely to one side, you are the best Director of Communications our team has ever had.”

“Well there have only been three...” you said, wiping away a tear.

“Oh shut up.” said Toto, “You’ve raised a hell of a lot of sponsorship money, appeased people who were going to jump ship and managed the press brilliantly. Not to mention onboarded new sponsors that no one else ever would have considered.”

Giving Toto a small smile, you replied, “Well all in a day's work.”

“Exactly, so I don’t see how they can let you go,” Toto said, reaching across his desk to take your hand in his. “You need to argue your case.”

“Okay,” you said weakly.

“Did anyone ask you about the interview?” Toto asked, his demeanour now shifted back to concerned boyfriend.

“A few people, how about you?” you gulped, trying to stop crying.

“Same.” Toto said, “Don’t cry please, I don’t like it when you cry.”

“You’ve never seen me cry, what are you on about?” you said, wiping another stray tear.

“Yes I have,” he said indignantly. “Remember in Baku?”

Casting your mind back, you remembered. You’d cried when you thought about all the things people would say if they found out about you and Toto. “Oh yes,” you said quietly. “I wasn’t wrong was I?”

“Shh.” said Toto, wiping away your tears with his thumb, “No one is saying anything like that. Bono said he didn’t believe it because you’re too good for the likes of me.”

Shaking your head, you replied shakily, “Bullshit.”

“He’s not wrong.” said Toto, “If you saw us in the street together, you’d think wow, lucky guy punching above his weight. He must be loaded or have a really big dick.”

Snorting with laughter, you replied, “Well then they wouldn’t be wrong.”

Toto rolled his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t actually,” you said, your tears having dried up. “Toto, I love you for you, not for your money or your clout or your just slightly larger than average dick.”

“Just slightly larger than average?” Toto said, raising his eyebrow, “Shit, that hurts.”

“That’s what she said,” you said with a smirk. “Joking aside, you’re so kind, you’re so patient, you make everyone around you feel valued. These aren’t common traits, especially not in some bigshot 

businessman.”

Toto looked pleased with himself, “I try.”

“You succeed,” you said, leaning across and kissing him on the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, so we have a plan,” said Toto. “And if anyone asks about us in the meantime, denial is not just a 

river in Egypt?”

You burst out laughing, “Jesus, 1982 called, it wants its joke back. Yes, that’s what I’ve been doing all morning.”

Toto shook his head, “You’re so mean to me.”

SUNDAY PM

As disastrous as qualifying had been, it was nothing compared to the race itself. George had suffered damage to his front wing early on after a small collision and was stuck in P14 behind a DRS train. Lewis wasn’t faring much better and was trundling on at P5, a considerable gap to make up if he wanted a podium.

Morale in the garage was at an all-time low and despite your chat the previous afternoon, Toto had reverted back to his bad mood. You'd once again spent the night apart due to the inconspicuous sleeping arrangements so you'd hardly seen him until you'd arrived in the garage.

He had snapped at Sophie, something that you would be having a word with him about and grumbled at the catering team about his coffee being too hot. All in all, not the man you knew and loved.

By the time the race was coming to a close, George was still floundering at P9, having fought for a few measly points and Lewis continued to run his own race in no-man's land at P5. It was the worst performance of the season and a rare slip-up for your well-oiled team. Frustratingly Red Bull were P1 and P2, meaning they would gain a significant amount of points, letting them pull ahead further in the Constructors Championship.

As the two Mercedes crossed the chequered flag, the garage weakly applauded, more out of politeness than enthusiasm. You clocked that Toto wasn’t joining in, looking utterly dejected.

Knowing that Sky wanted to talk to him, you apprehensively made your way over.

“Hey boss,” you said weakly, careful not to give anything away once again as you knew that your colleagues were still deeply suspicious.

“Hello.” he said, “Sky wants me?”

“Yes.” you said, “Shall we go?”

“If I have to,” said Toto.

Behind him Bono caught your eye, winking at you before teasing. “Damn, Christian Horner is right, the sexual tension. It’s palpable.”

Smirking at the goofy race engineer you replied sarcastically, “I know right.”

Toto however, was not amused. “Bono now is not the time.”

“You’re right, sorry boss,” said Bono, catching your eye once again and making a face.

Toto strode off, leaving you struggling to catch up, almost having to pick up a light jog.

“Hey, slow down big man,” you said, as you finally caught him up.

“Sorry.” he said, “I just want this over and done with.”

Concerned as you’d never seen Toto so down in the dumps you tried to reassure him, “It’s fine, we had a shit weekend, it happens. At least we’re not Haas.”

Offering you a small smile, Toto seemed to rally around a little. “That’s true.”

You soon reached the Sky podium where Johnny, Jenson and Naomi, the three presenters, were eagerly waiting for Toto.

As the production team miked him up, you could feel their curious eyes on you, all having been present for yesterday’s interview. You looked nervously towards Toto who was studying the floor with great interest, clearly also apprehensive.

Fortunately, you needn’t have worried, Sky were always professional and without the addition of Toto’s arch nemesis, they stuck strictly to work-related questions. It seemed as if you had both panicked for nothing and ultimately people didn’t really care who a Team Principal shared his bed with.

They did, however, ask Toto for answers on why performance was so poor this weekend, something that he struggled to answer as the technical team were still trying to figure it out themselves. It wasn’t the worst interview but for sure not the best.

Just as Toto stepped down from the platform to give his mic equipment back, your phone buzzed.

Hello Y/N, it’s Sylvie from the Medical Centre. I am sorry but I did not manage to get your pill. I recommend you go to the doctor asap.

Trying not to betray your emotions, you hurriedly typed a reply and put your phone away as Toto said his goodbyes to the Sky team. 

Wandering back towards the Mercedes hospitality area your head was spinning. In the chaos of the weekend, you had totally forgotten about your morning-after pill debacle. You couldn’t remember off the top of your head but it had now been over twenty-four hours and you weren’t sure how long you had before it wouldn’t work.

“Everything okay?” asked Toto, sensing your mind was elsewhere.

“Yes thanks, that was good. Well done,” you said shortly.

“Are you sure?” he pressed.

“Yep. All good,” you said, forcing a smile.

Toto looked confused but ultimately gave up pushing and you made your way back through the throng of teams in comfortable silence.

You were nervous about the team debrief that was to follow the race but in a way grateful that the team’s poor performance would be the main topic of discussion.

“Y/N,” Toto suddenly turned to you as you made your way up the stairs towards your respective offices, “Don’t get upset but I have to go back to Monaco later.”

“Huh?” you said, surprised at this news. You had been due to take the jet back to the UK together with several colleagues. “How come?”

“Just some business,” he said mysteriously, not giving anything away.

“Okay, sure,” you said, not sure what to make of this. In the events of the race weekend, you’d almost forgotten about your impending meeting with HR and were suddenly nervous that you would be doing it without Toto in the office, let alone the country.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there for your meeting,” he said, starchily. “I will check in though.”

“Okay,” you said, surprised by his suddenly frosty attitude.

MONDAY AM

The flight back to the UK had been uneventful and you’d sat in silence as the team furiously picked apart the race data, trying to get to the bottom of why Lewis didn’t have the pace. You felt rough once again, not having slept a wink. Toto had left shortly after the debrief and you hadn’t heard a peep since. It was unlike him both on a personal and professional level and as much as you hated to admit it, it had deeply upset you.

The landing was smooth and as you made your way down the stairs and onto the tarmac, the doom of having to face HR really set in. 

“Everything okay?” asked Rosie as she made her way towards you. You would be sharing a car with her and George as you were all going straight to the factory.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, tears once again pooling in your eyes.

“No it’s not,” Rosie said kindly before turning around to her boyfriend who was also heading over 

“George, will you go with the guys? We have some work things to chat about.”

Looking put out at being dismissed by his girlfriend, George shrugged and replied, “Sure, see you 

later.”

“Thanks,” you said, sliding into the back seat of the car, Rosie following suit.

“So what’s up?” Rosie asked kindly.

You sighed, “I don’t even know where to start.”

“At the beginning maybe?”

“Very funny,” you said, rolling up the privacy partition so that your driver wouldn’t overhear.

“Oh that kind of story?” said Rosie, knowing that whenever the partition went up, something was afoot.

“Ugh, so did you see the Sky interview with Toto and Christian on Saturday?”

“Yes, wait is that what you’re worried about? C’mon, it was Christian Horner. Nobody takes a word he says seriously.”

You smiled weakly, “Really?”

“Yeah!” Rosie huffed, “Everybody thought he was being an idiot. And for the record, everybody said Toto would in no way be able to pull you.”

“That’s what Bono said to Toto!” you said.

“See!” said Rosie, “The whole thing was ridiculous.”

“Well, the Board doesn't think so. They’ve called me into a meeting with HR later.”

‘What the fuck?” said Rosie, “Because of a stupid Sky puff piece?”

“Yup.” you said, “We originally thought it was just HR and Toto asked them to cancel it but turns out it was the Board.”

“Fuck.” said Rosie, “But really what are they going to say?”

“I don’t know.” you sighed, “I re-read my contract last night and it says no relationships with colleagues.”

“Does it?” said Rosie, “Well that’s me and George fucked then.”

“No offence but the Board doesn’t care about you or George. Toto is the figurehead of the team, I guess they don’t like the image of him sleeping with his employees.”

“Oh…” said Rosie, “Well, surely you can just say it’s not true?”

“The thing is, I would but then what if this goes somewhere and then they find out we lied?” you said. 

Rosie looked ecstatic, “You think it’s going to go somewhere?”

“I hope so.” you said, “Toto told me he loved me the other day.”

“Oh my God!” Rosie squealed, “Tell me, when, where?”

You grimaced thinking back to what had transpired on the beach, “Um, so we went to the beach on Friday night.”

“That’s why you didn’t come out!” Rosie exclaimed, “I knew it!”

You smirked, “Well anyway we watched the sunset on the beach and then had a little cuddle and he told me he loved me.”

“A little cuddle?” Rosie quirked an eyebrow, “Did you have sex on the beach?”

You blushed, thinking back to that evening, “No…”

“Oh my God, you’re blushing, you totally did!” Rosie said, “I’m not surprised by you but Toto! Didn’t think he was the type.”

“Rosie..” you started, “Breathe a word of this to anyone and I will kill you.”

“How was it?” she asked, “I want juicy details. Ugh, you’re so lucky, I wish George would do all this stuff.”

You laughed, “Well, it was a really bad idea.”

“How come?” she asked.

“Well… I don’t want to scar you.”

“Y/N, I overheard you getting eaten out by our boss. I think we’re past that.”

“Touché.” you replied, “We got a little carried away and he finished in me.”

Rosie looked as if she was going to combust, “And?”

“I’m not on any birth control.” you paused, “I tried to get the morning-after pill at the medical centre but it was expired and they couldn’t get it. And then everything kicked off with the interview and the bad quali so I ran out of time.”

“Fuck.” said Rosie, “You should have come to me.”

“It’s okay, there was nothing anyone could do. Toto was going to drive to a pharmacy but he ran out of time.”

“What are you going to do?” Rosie asked with concern.

“Well firstly if I survive this meeting, I will hotfoot it to the doctors,” you said. “Toto’s fucked off to 

Monaco so I’m not even sure what is going on there.”

“Weird.” said Rosie, “I’m surprised he’s letting you do this meeting alone.”

“Me too,” you said, looking at the fields as you rolled closer and closer to the factory.

MONDAY PM

Sitting in your office, you steeled yourself in preparation for your upcoming meeting. Glancing at the clock you had three minutes to get to the HR office so you decided to bite the bullet and make your way down, for what was likely to be your last meeting in this role. To add insult to injury, Toto had not contacted you all day, not even to ask if you’d landed safe or to wish you luck. It was totally unlike him and you couldn’t help but be disappointed in him.

Knocking gently on the door, Pamela’s voice rang out, “Come in.”

“Hi,” you said, surprised to find that it was only Pamela present.

“Hi Y/N, how are you?” the older woman said politely.

“I’m okay thank you, how are you?” you said, battling to make small talk.

“Very well thank you. Now I’m sure you know why you’re here today. The Board were not happy to discover your personal relationship with Toto, especially in the manner that it was revealed. It does not reflect well on both the team or Toto so they have asked me to step in and call this meeting.”

“Wow you got straight to the point Pamela,” you said, not thrilled with her tone.

Ignoring your grumbles, she continued, “They want to conference call to discuss the matter further. Before I dial, is there anything you want me to know or say that will help?”

Softening your expression as after all, it was not Pamela’s fault, you replied, “That’s okay, I will explain everything to them directly.”

“If you’re sure,” said Pamela apprehensively, reaching for the conference phone at her desk.

As the Teams ring rang out you felt sick with nerves. You weren’t expecting to be fighting your case directly with the Board. Steeling yourself, you thought about the achievements that you could reel off, not to mention the additional revenue that you had raised.

“Good afternoon.” came a voice through the speakerphone. 

You recognised it as Robert, the chairman. Surprised he would be on this call, you politely replied, “Good afternoon Robert.”

“Hello.” called another voice. It was David, another one of the principal investors. They’d sent in the heavy hitters.

“Hello everyone.” Finally a friendly voice, it was James from the Technical team. He occasionally joined Board meetings.

As more of the upper management joined the call, you were increasingly surprised that Toto wasn’t going to be a part of it. Surely he would want to fight his corner?

“So are we all here?” said Anne, the Company Secretary.

“No, we’re waiting for Toto.” replied Pamela, “He should be here any minute.”

Shocked by this revelation you immediately felt more confident.

“Of course he’s late,” said Robert in a clipped tone. 

Right on cue, there was a knock on Pamela’s door. It was none other than Toto, looking red-faced and out of breath as if he’d been running the whole way.

“He’s here,” said Pamela, sensing they were impatient to start.

“Hello everyone,” said Toto, trying to hide the fact he was out of breath. Greetings were murmured through the speaker, merged together as multiple people spoke at once.

“Good afternoon Toto,” said Robert curtly.

“Good afternoon Robert,” replied Toto, equally as shortly.

“So I just want to preface this call with the fact that everything said on here will remain strictly confidential,” said Pamela, taking to the floor. “I’d first like to state that Y/N signed our standard contract, in that employee/employee relationships are strictly forbidden. Toto’s contract is different and does not have this stated anywhere. This does not, however, excuse his transgression and as part of our ethos, we would strongly discourage any abuse of power between an employee and their superior.”

Toto looked livid, having caught his breath he sat bolt upright, shooting daggers at Pamela.

Pamela continued, “Following Saturday’s interview with Sky Sports and Toto, it was revealed that Toto and Y/N have been pursuing a romantic relationship and several members of the Board have raised concerns that this is entirely inappropriate, not to mention a breach of Y/N’s contract. I would like to begin by giving the floor to Robert, who I believe feels especially strongly about this matter.”

“Yes,” came the voice from the speaker, “I was very surprised to learn of this news. For many years Mercedes has worked tirelessly to create a clean-cut professional brand image. Toto has always been exemplary of this and I was shocked, to say the least when our direct competitor brought his recent behaviour up. Y/N is still relatively new to the team and I voiced my concerns during the hiring process that she was too young to be taking on such a Senior role. I believe what has happened is due to this.”

“I…” Toto started before Pamela shushed him.

Robert continued, “In my opinion, the only way forward is for Y/N to discreetly leave her post. I do not want the press catching wind of this and spinning a narrative that is not in line with our brand values.”

“Robert.” started Toto again, before being cut off by David.

“Toto, we will hear from you shortly, but I would like to add that I am surprised you did this, knowing the repercussions. We always laugh at your counterparts at Red Bull and Ferrari but they have never brought a scandal like this upon their team.”

This time James interjected, “Look, guys, I know you’re not thrilled about this but I travel with the team and this is the first time I’ve heard anything about this. Everyone in the garage doesn’t believe it’s true and do we even know for a fact that it is? You all know what Christian Horner is like and this feels like somewhat of an overreaction to a situation we do not fully understand. I think we should let Toto speak.”

You could always count on James to stay level-headed in a tricky situation, there were a few grumbles and Robert piped up, “Sure, I would love to know what he has to say for himself.”

Toto cleared his throat, “Well, I am very disappointed with the way you have approached this. As James said, we all know what Christian Horner is like and he will say anything to make us, especially me, look bad. Normally it is something professional but this time he hit below the belt and made it personal.” He continued, “So to explain exactly what has been happening, I have been pursuing a relationship with Y/N outside of work, however, we have been keeping it very discreet and under wraps and entirely separate from our duties in the workplace.”

“So you are together?” butted in David.

“Yes. We are.” confirmed Toto, looking weary, “I was not aware that Y/N had a line in her contract that expressly forbade a personal relationship as I do not have that within my contract, however, I do not believe that her career should suffer because of her affiliation to me.”

“Well, I’d like to hear Y/N’s side of things.” piped up Robert, “Surely you were aware of this clause in your contract?”

“Hello everyone.” you said shyly, “I have to say, my contract is over thirty pages long and having re-read it over the weekend, the relationship part is a very small line towards the end. When I signed it, I paid it no mind as I did not expect to find love in the workplace.”

“Love?” guffawed Robert, “I know Toto, this is just another fling.”

This time Pamela interjected, “Robert, may I ask that you remain professional and listen to what Y/N has to say.”

Smiling at the older woman, you continued, “Yes love, Robert. When we began our relationship, we agreed that we keep personal and professional entirely separate so as not to disrupt our work and I have to say I think we have managed to do so successfully.”

“So I have one question,” interrupted James, “How long has this been going on?”

“A little over a year,” said Toto.

Your eyebrows shot up, yes Baku had been over a year ago but strictly Montreal was only six weeks ago.

Murmurs followed once again before James spoke, “Wow. Okay, so I would like to say that I do believe they kept things separate as I sit immediately next to them for hours at a time every weekend, spend countless hours in debriefings and meetings and travel on the jet and had no idea. I knew that they were firm friends but had no inkling of a romantic relationship”

“But this does not answer how Christian Horner came to discover the relationship?” asked David indignantly.

“I have my suspicions on that,” said Toto cryptically. “He is always digging for dirt and I suppose this time he couldn’t wait to spill.”

“Well, I for one, still believe that the right thing to do is to excuse Y/N from her post, no questions asked and we find a new Director of Communications,” said Robert, unmoved by anything he’d heard.

Annoyed that this man was so stubborn, you could no longer contain yourself. “Look, Robert, I understand I have breached my contract but I would urge you to think about what I have brought to the team. I have increased sponsorship revenue by 40% in one year and entertained new sponsors who have brought priceless good press to our team, as opposed to the dinosaurs we had before. I have convinced partners to stay who were all but ready to jump ship for a rival team when times were tough and I’ve grown our Comms team considerably, giving us additional media opportunities that we never would have explored previously.”

Toto turned to face you, glowing with pride. Even Pamela looked suitably impressed with your spiel.

Silence followed for a few seconds before Robert replied, “I understand this, but it doesn’t change that you fundamentally broke your contract and there has to be consequences. It’s all very well throwing out these numbers but you’ve undone years of hard work in one swoop.”

‘Robert.” stated Toto very succinctly, “Frankly, if you want Y/N to go, I will go with her.”

You were floored, Toto would leave his role for you?

His admission was met with deathly silence before David spoke. “Now Toto, don’t be so dramatic. I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“I will,” said Toto stubbornly. “I run this team and I know that Y/N is the best Director of Communications we’ve ever had. It would be stupidity to let her go. And I say this from a purely professional standpoint”

More silence followed before Robert replied. “Look, let us discuss this further. For now, I would recommend that Y/N takes a temporary leave of absence and waits for this to blow over.”

“Fine,” clapped back Toto, “Then I will take a leave of absence. Good luck.”

Pamela’s face beside you was one of pure shock. 

“I’d rather you didn’t,” replied Robert.

“Then we both stay,” replied Toto bluntly. “We will continue to be discreet and laugh off any comments from rivals.”

“Fine.” said Robert, “But if I catch wind of anything affecting the team performance she goes.”

You gulped, not liking the way he was referring to you.

Pamela piped up, “From a Human Resources point of view, we cannot decide things like that in this manner. In my opinion, what we do is we draft another contract for Y/N that she can sign and we can put some stipulations in if need be.”

Thankful for the older woman’s expertise, you nodded in agreement.

“Fine.” said Robert, “Well let’s wrap this up, we’ve wasted enough time this afternoon. Speak soon.”

Goodbyes were murmured in response before Pamela rang off the call.

“Well, that was interesting.” she said, “So you two? I wouldn’t have guessed either.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Pamela, sorry about all of that.”

Toto stood up from beside you, “Yes thank you, Pamela, they are a nightmare.”

“You’re more than welcome,” replied Pamela, offering you both a warm smile, “But I don’t want to hear of any office hanky panky yes?”

You giggled, “Believe me after all of this, that is the last place I want to be doing anything.”

“And it might be tricky with our glass walls.” joked Toto.

“Indeed,” said Pamela waving you out of her office.

“Well, do you want to get a tea?” asked Toto, putting his hands awkwardly in his pockets as he strolled down the corridor beside you.

“Sure,” you said, aware you still had much to discuss.

———

As you both had a relatively free afternoon, you decided to pop out of the factory for your tea. It was a nice day and you had more privacy wandering along the river bank than you did in Toto’s goldfish bowl of an office.

“Toto, there's one thing I don't understand. Why did you say we were together for a year?” you asked.

“Well, six weeks sounded silly and we technically did begin our romance then,” Toto said bashfully. "I liked you from the get-go but when we kissed in Baku, everything changed."

“That’s very schoolboy of you. You know I think I fell for you in Monaco. I know nothing happened but you looked so handsome at that yacht dinner party, I would have had you right there if I could have,” you laughed, turning towards Toto, “Thank you for coming all the way back, I didn’t expect it.”

“Monaco, really? You looked beautiful that night too, " Toto beamed, "And why would I not come back? I had to go to Monaco for a meeting with a supplier and got on the first flight out of Nice this morning.

“Oh.” you said, surprised he took a commercial flight, “I see.”

“Is everything okay with us Y/N?” Toto suddenly asked, concerned.

“Yeah.” you said, “Sorry, I just feel kind of stupid, I felt like a kid being told off at school.”

“Me too,” said Toto.

“You did?” you asked.

“Of course, it’s worse for me in a way. Everyone thinks I’m some old perv.”

“You know when I call you an old perv it’s a joke right?” you replied.

Toto smiled, his kind brown eyes crinkling, “You know what I mean. You could hear the shock even in James’ voice.”

“I don’t think he thinks you’re an old perv. I think he probably feels stupid that he didn’t notice.”

“Maybe.” said Toto, stopping in his tracks, “Hey, I guess we all have our stupid moments.”

“Indeed we do.” you said, looking up at the tall man before you, “I’m glad we were stupid though.”

“Me too,” said Toto, quickly checking you were alone before bending down to kiss you.

Unfortunately, however, you weren't quite alone as a pair of all too familiar eyes were watching you from behind a bush a little way along the river. Nor did you hear the click of the camera shutter, capturing your intimate moment in a freeze frame image.

[drearycrow]

Notes: I started messing with the incorrect quote generator and now I'm having too much fun.

Me, with a headache: Advil me up, daddy.

Kunikida: I will short out the language centre of your brain if you say anything like that ever again.

☽⊰⊹〰︎〰︎✎♥︎✐〰︎〰︎⊹⊱☾

Me: Wow, Kunikida, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.

Kunikida: We literally slept together yesterday.

Me: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

☽⊰⊹〰︎〰︎✎♥︎✐〰︎〰︎⊹⊱☾

Me: I wanna sleep for 40 hours.

Kunikida: You know that's called a coma, right?

Me:

Me: That sounds so refreshing, I could totally go for a light coma right now.

☽⊰⊹〰︎〰︎✎♥︎✐〰︎〰︎⊹⊱☾

Kunikida: Look, last night was a mistake.

Me: A sexy mistake.

Kunikida: No, just a regular mistake.

☽⊰⊹〰︎〰︎✎♥︎✐〰︎〰︎⊹⊱☾

Me: Reverse tooth fairy where you leave money under your pillow and the tooth fairy comes and leaves you a bunch of teeth.

Kunikida: Why?

Me, shaking a bag of teeth: Just because.

☽⊰⊹〰︎〰︎✎♥︎✐〰︎〰︎⊹⊱☾

Kunikida: Go fuck yourself.

Me, smugly: Sure, but only if you watch

☽⊰⊹〰︎〰︎✎♥︎✐〰︎〰︎⊹⊱☾

Me: Get in loser, we're going shopping.

Kunikida: This is a McDonald's drive thru.

☽⊰⊹〰︎〰︎✎♥︎✐〰︎〰︎⊹⊱☾

Me, taping a knife onto a Roomba: Be free, my child.

Kunikida, entering the room with a small cut on their ankle: Who the f-

☽⊰⊹〰︎〰︎✎♥︎✐〰︎〰︎⊹⊱☾

Me: How do I tell Kunikida that I want them to yell at me like they're Gordon Ramsay and I'm a poor little chef who just ruined a crème brûlée?

☽⊰⊹〰︎〰︎✎♥︎✐〰︎〰︎⊹⊱☾

[burlveneer-music]

Speaking of UK jazz, the new Ill Considered album Precipice is out today as well, from New Soil

Ill considered are a band comprising of musicians interacting with each other to create freely improvised music, based loosely around simple pre-written themes or composed on the spot. Deep grooves and plaintive melodies ranging from whispered chants to monstrous climaxes, the group react to the mood of the audience and the sonics of the room to create music that is unique to the moment.

Ahead of its release check out an extended, improvised session featuring Ill Considered and a group of special guests recorded down at Total Refreshment Centre to kick off a new chapter their new musical journey. Precipice (Live) features improvisations from: Idris Rahman, Pete Wareham, Buster Woodruff-Bryant, Art Themen, James Mollison, Nathaniel Cross, Theon Cross, James Yglesias

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Interlude)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N:

Since we’re 27 chapters deep at this point, I thought I’d repost the prologue as an interlude to refresh you guys. Feel free to skip if you want but Act Two follows on straight from here.

I also wanted to clarify some timeline shit for anyone who might be a little lost. They got married in 2008 and then two years later in 2010 was when Simon bought them a house. The last two chapters were set in 2014, four years later. The relationship in total was eight years. Simon was deployed for around four months total, spending three of those captive by Roba. Charlotte was around 14 weeks pregnant by the time Simon came back on Christmas day but she had no idea.

I hope that makes things super clear.

Placebo - Sleeping With Ghosts

Hush It's okay Dry your eyes Dry your eyes Soulmate dry your eyes Dry your eyes Soulmate dry your eyes Cause soulmates never die

Price walked up the driveway, his heart hammering away behind his ribs. He’d faced a lot of things in his life and his line of work, yet nothing shook him quite like this did. Nothing made him panic quite like the task he was about to do, which was laughable given he wasn't in any danger. He blew out a shaky breath, removing his hat as he fisted it anxiously. He’d agonised over what to wear to this, wondering if more casual clothes would have been appropriate. He decided against it though, wearing some dark camo pants and a dark green t-shirt. He wanted to look the part, unsure of how he’d be received here. 

He knocked firmly, straightening up and trying to will some confidence within himself. He wasn't sure just what was eating at him but he knew if this went badly, Simon wouldn't be happy at all and he didn't want to let him down. Not with this . It was a big deal and part of him thought Simon should have come here himself, but he understood why he couldn't, not yet. It was better this way. Price just hoped the news would be received well. 

He heard shuffling behind the door before it swung open, revealing a petite and pretty woman with dark brown hair and striking blue eyes. Before he got a word out, he saw her eyes flit over his uniform, her whole demeanour turning tense as she narrowed her eyes, gripping the door in the death grip. He’d never seen the woman in person but he found himself thinking how lucky a man his Lieutenant was. He opened his mouth to introduce himself but she beat him to it.

“Why are you here? He's been dead for five years,” she bit out, voice strained and he felt a pang in his chest as he saw her eyes glaze over with unshed tears.

“Mrs Riley… I’m Captain John Price. I don't mean to intrude but I really need a word. Can I come inside?” he asked politely, practically expecting the door to be slammed in his face. She looked conflicted and he could see the grief all over her, even after all this time. It was then he noticed she was still wearing her rings on her left ring finger, could see the chain of dog tags around her neck and he just knew what name would be on them. Fuckin’ hell, Simon, you arsehole.

“Please,” he added softly, his face imploring. He didn't want to deliver this news on her bloody doorstep. She pursed her lips before nodding tensely, moving away to let him in. He shut the door behind him and followed her into the living area. 

It looked cosy and his eyes drifted to the fireplace, noticing the framed picture on the centre of it. It was strange to see his second in command this way, unmasked and smiling on his wedding day. He looked younger, less jaded and beat down. Less scarred. The couple were something to behold together, Charlotte in her wedding dress as she grinned up at her new husband with nothing but pure unadulterated love on her face. He couldn't imagine how she’d taken the news when she’d been told Simon was dead. It must have crushed her. 

She moved to sit in one of the armchairs and he took a seat on the couch, perching on the edge, feeling tightly wound. He licked his lower lip, wondering how best to phrase what he needed to say as she shifted in her seat uncomfortably. 

“Simon told me alot about you,” he murmured awkwardly, wincing as she looked away quickly, folding her arms over herself like she was trying to create a barrier to protect herself. She was clearly still affected by it which didn’t bode well for what he was about to tell her. He knew she'd be relieved but mighty pissed. He knew he would be. 

“Charlotte-” he started, only to be interrupted.

“Mummy, who’s this?” a small voice asked and his head snapped to the stairs so fast, he thought he might break his bloody neck. A small girl was coming down the stairs in her little pyjamas with bunnies on them. A mass of blonde curls coming to her shoulders and deep, dark brown eyes he knew all too well.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he whispered, eyes wide as he stared at the clone of his lieutenent in miniature as she toddled down the stairs. She walked over to her mum, standing between her legs as Charlotte cupped her cheeks, stroking them gently.

“What are you doing up, sweet pea?” she asked softly.

“I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep,” the girl pouted before she turned her dark eyes to him. “Hello!” she grinned cheerfully and he suddenly felt like he’d had a hole punched right through his chest. 

“Hello, sweetie. What's your name?” he asked with a tentative smile.

“Elizabeth, but people call me Beth,” she replied and her smile rivalled the sun. Beth . 

“That's a very pretty name,” he smiled back at her and it made her smile widen.

“What's your name?” she asked curiously, tilting her head.

“My name is John,” he answered softly,

“Hello, Mr John!” she beamed and his throat closed up at how sweet she was. He suddenly found himself wondering how Simon was going to take the news. He’d missed out on so much, wasn’t even aware he had a fucking kid. He was completely lost in thought, only brought out when the little girl spoke again.

“It's almost my birthday! I’m gonna be five!” she grinned, holding up five fingers and almost dancing on the spot with excitement. He couldn't help the smile that graced his face.

“Wow, that's a big number. You're gonna be a big girl,” he replied with a grin and she giggled. The sound felt like it filled up his hollow chest and he didn’t know how to process it. This little girl wasn't just Simon’s family, she was his family too. She was family to the 141. 

“I didn't know I was pregnant. I found out two weeks after…” Charlotte trailed off, looking away and stroking the girl's soft curls as if to ground herself. He couldn’t imagine going through all of that alone after such news and he feared her reaction even more now. He didn't want to mention it in front of Elizabeth though.

“Are you an army man? Like daddy?” she asked excitedly, catching him off guard again. He wasn't sure why it shocked him that Charlotte had told her about Simon, of course she would. Yet it stunned him anyway. 

“I am,” he replied carefully and her eyes lit up for a moment. 

“Mummy said he was a hero! He saved people! But now he's an angel in heaven. He keeps me safe,” she murmured, a slight sadness now overtaking her voice that John hated more than anything. The poor girl thought her dad was fucking dead and he cursed Simon for sending him here. 

“Are you a hero too, Mr John?” she asked curiously and he swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

“I try to be, sweetheart,” he replied, trying to give her a smile. 

“Sweetie, you need to go back to bed, okay? Let me speak to Mr John and I’ll come up and read you a story. You go up and pick one,” Charlotte instructed softly and Beth grinned with a nod.

“Okay! Bye Mr John!” she beamed, waving at him before she ran off, trotting up the stairs once more. His chest ached, his head pounding with the situation he found himself in. 

“I don't mean to be rude John, but why are you here?” Charlotte asked. She looked worn down and he felt another pang in his chest as he looked at her. Girl looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“I… fuckin’ hell…” he trailed off, wringing the hat in his hands anxiously. She watched him expectantly and he couldn't meet her eyes. 

“Simon’s not dead,” he blurted, needing to get it out of his mouth like poison. Silence overtook the room then and he felt nerves well up inside of him, eyes glancing over to her as she blinked dumbly for a long moment. But then a wave of grief washed over her face before it hardened and she glared at him.

“Is this some idea of a sick joke? You come into my house, talk to my fucking daughter and you come to fuck with my head like this?” she hissed at him and he shook his head vehemently. 

“I’m not… I’m tellin’ the truth, Charlotte. He’s alive,” he implored, watching as a myriad of emotions crossed her face. She looked lost, like she was being swept out to sea and he found himself standing, moving to crouch in front of her and take her trembling hands in his own.

“How… he can’t... they told me he was dead,” she mumbled tearfully, a dazed look to her face as she frowned and shook her head.

“It’s complicated. He went through…- Some shit happened on a mission and it followed him home, they thought he was dead. On paper he was killed, but he’s still alive. He's on my task force and he sent me here,” he explained, squeezing her hands softly hoping to help ground her.

“He’s alive? And he didn't… he didn’t contact me?” she asked, her voice now small and distraught at the idea. She looked so confused and Price swallowed thickly.

“He wanted to keep you safe, he thought it was best. That’s… that's a conversation you need to have with him, I’m afraid. But I’m not just there for this,” he muttered with a wince, looking at her sheepishly as her tear stricken face turned to him. He knew he'd already dropped a bomb on her and she looked like she didn’t know which way was up.

“You need to come with me, back to our base,” he explained, feeling like he was ready to face an explosion. She blinked at him for a long moment before a laugh bubbled from her lips, but it wasn't one of amusement. She sounded delirious.

“What? I just found out my husband isn't actually dead and purposely fucked off and left me on my own to raise our kid, and now we need to move? Am I having a stroke or something?” she asked, eyes wild and incredulous as she looked at him. He let her hands go, moving back to sit on the sofa, wiping a hand over his face. He really wished Simon had come here himself, he was going to fucking kill him.

“I know it's a lot to take in, but his identity’s been compromised. Some bad people know he isn’t dead and it isn't hard to trace you back to him. You're not safe and neither is Beth. Simon wants you on the base so you’ll be protected, just until the threat is dealt with.”

“Oh, he wants us on the base now our lives are in danger? Fucking fantastic,” she huffed, wiping her face angrily before blowing out a deep breath, hanging her head. He left her alone for a moment to process the information and after a few long moments she looked at him once more, a defeated look across her face. He knew she didn't want to, but knowing her daughter wasn't safe would force her to go with him.

“When do we need to leave?” she asked with a heavy sigh.

“Now, preferably,” he explained sheepishly, watching her take another deep inhale, her eyes closed. 

“Let me pack some stuff,” she muttered and he nodded, watching uncomfortably as she stood. 

He sat on the couch for a long while as she packed the stuff for both her and Beth and his mind drifted to his second once more. Simon was in for a shock when they turned up, an addition he wasn't aware of in tow. Not to mention his very pissed off and hurt wife. He wasn't sure if Simon had prepared himself for the wrath Price knew was coming. Maybe he thought she’d just be grateful he was alive. He had no doubt she was but he’d seen the hurt on her face when she found out he'd been avoiding her for all these years. There had been so much she’d had to do by herself, the pregnancy, the birth, raising the girl. All of it alone, thinking her husband was dead. 

He knew from Simon that she had no family. His family had become her family but then they were all gone and he fucked off. Maybe it was an easier pill to swallow to think he was dead, that it hadn't been his choice to leave. Knowing he'd made this choice, that he’d left willingly , well he knew that had to leave a bad taste in her mouth. He thought of the small blonde then, looking so much like her father it was almost scary. She thought her daddy was an angel in heaven and now she was going to meet him. He couldn’t imagine how that would fuck with her head. 

“I’m just gonna step outside to make a phone call,” he murmured awkwardly as he stood, looking over to where she was stuffing some teddies into a backpack. She glanced over at him but didn't stop what she was doing.

“Tell him to go fuck himself while you're at it,” she huffed, her wobbly voice betraying how upset she was even if she was trying to seem more angry than hurt. He gave her a sad but wry smile as he nodded, moving to leave the house and walk to his car. He couldn't just turn up with a child like that, his Lieutenant was likely to have a fucking aneurysm if he did. He needed to let him know, at least warn him of the tiny whirlwind that would be coming back to base.

He knew it would be a lot to deal with but he didn't want the small girl's feelings to get hurt if her dad acted like a right arsehole with her in his shocked stupor. The ride back to base would take around two hours so he hoped it would be enough time for Simon to get his head in gear for what was coming for him. Some might have called it karma.

The phone rang twice before the gruff voice came through the other end.

“Price, is she alright?” he rushed out, not even bothering to hide the fear in his voice. This past week since all this came to a head had been tense for the entire team. He was the only one who knew of Charlotte since he’d met Simon when they were together. He'd worked with Simon once before he faked his death, before the Mexico bullshit happened. Then after, he'd been the one to take the man in after the hell he'd been through, been there when he'd made the choice to lie to her. 

He’d never met the girl but he knew the masked soldier was head over heels in love with her. He’d tried to convince him not to be a dick and play dead but he couldn't get through to the man. He was too pig headed for his own good sometimes and in a way, John got why he did what he did. But now seeing the damage that was done, well, he was starting to rethink his position on it. 

Once Simon realised his wife wasn't safe, he came to the terrifying realisation he needed to let her know he was very much alive because he needed to bring her to the base. The fucker was going to get Price to bring her there while he fucked off elsewhere so he could keep the charade up, but that was where Price firmly drew the line. His Lieutenant had been a wreck since and it hadn't been made any better when the rest of the 141, including Ale and Rudy who were honorary members and currently helping with their situation, hadn’t shut up about the fact that Ghost had a fucking secret wife. They were all in for a fucking treat now, weren't they?

“She’s pretty upset, I don't know what the fuck you were expectin’. She’s taken it pretty badly that you left her willingly,” he bit out with a sigh, wiping a hand over his tired face. He heard a shaky exhale down the line that stretched onto an uncomfortable silence. He knew Ghost was dealing with a lot of emotions right now, something he wasn't used to. Not anymore. Ghost was known for being stoic, for being emotionless, empty like a shell. He was always as cool as a cucumber, unflappable, unable to be ruffled. The entire team had seen a side to him only Price had been privy to before with all the emotions this had brought up for the man.

“Simon… I need to tell you somethin’ before we get there,” he murmured hesitantly. He felt a twisting in his gut and he tried to ignore it. 

“What is it?” he asked carefully, apprehension bleeding through his tone. John inhaled a deep breath, blowing it out of his nose slowly. 

“When you left… fuckin’ hell… Charlotte was pregnant. You’ve got a daughter,” he admitted quietly and he heard nothing but dead silence on the other end that made that twisting in his gut even worse. 

“Hey, Cap, the fuck ye say to LT? I think ye broke him,” Soap snorted down the line.

“Where's Ghost?” Price bit out, panic settling in his bones. The idea of him freaking out over this to the point of rejecting his child made him feel sick. He never knew with Ghost. He wasn't the same as Simon, the two were very separate in the way they dealt with things. 

“Dunno, he just shoved the phone at me and fucked off. What's goin’ on?” Soap asked curiously.

“I need you to get him, make sure he’s alright,” John sighed.

“Cap?” he asked worriedly.

“He’s got a fuckin’ kid, Johnny. Charlotte didn't find out until just after she was told he was dead,” John swallowed thickly.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap whispered and John could just imagine his wide blue eyes at the news.

“I can't have him losin’ it. I don’t give a shit what he’s dealin’ with, this is his mess and he needs to deal with it. He needs to get his head out of his arse before this little girl gets here or I’ll fuckin’ have him,” John growled, already protective of the sweet tiny Riley.

“Aye, I’ll talk with him, try to get his head on right,” Soap affirmed and he knew Johnny would do his best. As much as Ghost liked to pretend otherwise, the two were best mates and if anyone could talk some sense into him, it would be Johnny.

“Tell him… tell him she’s called Beth. Elizabeth,” John murmured softly and he heard Soap’s intake of breath over the line. They didn't need to voice the emotion they both felt. 

“Will do,” he replied somberly. 

His ears were ringing, eyes unseeing as he sat on his bed. He felt like he couldn’t fucking breathe and he ripped the mask off his face, letting it fall to the floor as he tried desperately to inhale air. A kid. He had a fucking daughter. His brain couldn't quite wrap his head around it, emotions not kicking in yet as all he felt was blind panic. A child. How the fuck was he gonna manage that? Was he even capable of being a good father now? He’d already fucked up, already missed out on almost five years of her fucking life and left Charlotte to do it all herself. 

He knew deep down that faking his death was a mistake. Fucking hell, he’d known that long ago but had been too much of a coward to rectify it. And if he’d have known she was carrying his child then he’d never have done it. Never have left her alone to raise a child by herself. Never have abandoned his own kid. It made him feel sick. He was already dealing with the deep shame and regret of hurting Charlotte. He could only imagine how hurt she was right now and he knew he’d deserve whatever she threw at him when she got here. 

He wished he could take it back, he really did, but it was too late now. He’d fucked up and now his ghosts were coming to haunt him. He knew he was in a state of shock and he dreaded to think what he’d feel once he had the capacity. He had to switch it off, had to be Ghost because he couldn’t have a fucking mental breakdown when they both got here. It wouldn't be fair to Charlotte, wouldn't be fair to his little girl. He had to be strong, had to bottle it all up until he could deal with it later on his own. He just had to get through this first meeting, maybe it would be easier after. 

There was a knock at his door and before he could tell whoever it was to fuck off, it opened. Johnny came in, a sympathetic smile on his face that let him know Price had told him. 

“I hear congrats are in order,” he murmured wryly and Simon’s heart thudded dully in his chest, not even managing a smile back or a witty retort. Johnny moved over to sit next to him on the bed, leaning his arms on his thighs as he leaned forward. 

“I… I know ye goin’ through a lot, Si. I cannae even imagine how fucked yer head must be…” he trailed off softly, as if he was talking to a spooked animal. He was.

“I’m not gonna freak out,” Ghost bit out, running his hands through his hair in agitation. He hated that he had to wait. He’d rather get it all over with, rip it off like a fucking plaster. Soap gave him a look with a raised brow, one that told him he didn’t believe him in the least and Ghost blew out a breath and shook his head.

“I’ll be fine. Get this over with and then… I don’t fuckin’ know,” he frowned, a pain in his chest blooming and radiating throughout his entire being. The thought of Charlotte's tearful face made him feel sick. He'd always hated seeing her cry, especially when it had been his fault. He wasn't proud that he’d made her cry a fair few times over the years ‘cause he was a right fucking bastard when he wanted to be. But knowing she would be hurt more than ever made him feel like he wanted to throw up. 

“She uh… She’s called Elizabeth… Beth… by the way,” Johnny murmured carefully, his voice thick. Beth . Tommy. Joseph. Mum. Elizabeth Riley. Fuck . His chest tightened again, a lump in his throat growing until it felt the size of his fist. His hands shook as he balled them up, pressing them into his thighs as he inhaled shakily. 

He flinched when he felt Johnny’s large hand on his back, rubbing it soothingly. If his head wasn't so fucked, he’d have made a comment about it. As it was, it was taking all of his willpower not to break down. After a few more shaky deep breaths, he nodded resolutely and stood, slipping his mask back on, literally and figuratively.

“Let’s go to the gym, spar for a bit,” he suggested, his voice firm and not giving the Sergeant an option. He needed a distraction. The waiting would kill him.

“Aye. whatever ye want, LT,” Soap replied, giving him a sad smile as he stood too. Maybe beating the shit out of his best mate would help him feel a little better. He doubted it but it wouldn't hurt to try. He needed to stuff Simon back in his box, lock him up tightly and just get through the day. 

A child. Fucking hell, he was fucked. Just another person to add to the list of those he let down. Another person for him to hurt. He had a wife he didn't deserve and a child he'd never met. He cursed Price for not letting him run off like he wanted and he cursed himself for being such a fucking coward, for being such a piece of shit. He was a Riley through and through. He really was his father's son. 

[sleepingdeath-light]

yandere hcs ; black lemonade cookie

requested by ; anonymous (16/07/23), anonymous (21/07/23)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; black lemonade cookie

outline ; “yandere black lemonade, ik ur not writing for her until she comes out but i love her so”

&

“yandere black lemonade?”

warning(s) ; obsessive behaviour, yandere!black lemonade, stalking (online and in person), guilt tripping, worshipping

for black lemonade cookie you are more than just her partner: you’re the centre of her world, her muse, her obsession, her blessing, her bias — you’re everything and more, an angel born down on this earth just to make her life worth living and she treats you accordingly

she dedicates every song, every album, every performance and interview and post to you — always talking about her ‘awesome partner back home’ and making her fans and onlookers awe at how loving of a spouse she must be, how ‘goals’ and ‘otp’ your relationship is and how much they want a partner who is as ‘devoted’ and ‘so totally into them’ as she is to you

there are entire fan communities dedicated to the two of you: fanfic, fan art, fan edits and accounts dedicated to posting updates on you both (where you were last seen, any posts/mentions that have been made to you by black lemonade cookie, etc.) — it’s so expansive and large that it’s honestly hard to keep track of

but she manages somehow, always keeping on top of the latest trends and seeming to always have a tab open on her phone displaying some fan content of you (usually something less than sfw) because she’s just as obsessed as those fans — she’s just a bit better at hiding it

she keeps tabs on you wherever you go, and she’s been doing it since before she got the confidence to actually approach you — with her constantly refreshing your social media when she’s away on tour or, if she’s in the area, always miraculously showing up wherever you are and joining in on whatever you were doing (errands, shopping, leisure, etc.)

she’s quick to get jealous but she never takes it out on you — always going to extremes to embarrass and intimidate the hell out of whoever was getting too close for her liking (especially if it’s at one of her gigs when she’ll stop what she’s doing to point out the offending party and mock them in front of her crowd of fans, who, of course, will all join in)

she does feel like she doesn’t deserve you — well, really it’s the idea that you’re so good that nobody deserves you rather than just her — and that makes her that much more terrified of losing you, which in turn makes her default to using a lot of manipulation and guilt tripping to keep you locked down in your relationship (it also contributes to her stalking you)

like she’s forever messaging you to ask you if you love her and refuses to leave your home until you’ve kissed her — she thrives off of your affection and attention, really, and she’ll use whatever tactics she can in order to get what she wants from you

if you spend time with anyone else then she’ll start off by constantly texting and calling you because she misses you, then she’ll move on to stalking you through the cameras, and then she’ll feign some sort of injury or mishap during practise which would force you to come home and take care of her — she really doesn’t like sharing your attention with people

definitely tries her best to separate you from your loved ones to make you more reliant on her at first, but if that fails then she’ll integrate herself so perfectly with your family that you’ll feel too entangled and guilty to ever leave her — either way her goal of making you attached to her is achieved so she’s happy

she’d never take a life, she’s not that type of girl, but she’s not afraid to ruin a life — especially if she has shining glitter and rockstar cookie on her side (a little white lie never hurt, and they’d never doubt their new friend after all), which makes the process a whole lot smoother

but that’s only a last resort if someone keeps on taking your attention away from her and can’t get the hint that you’re taken — you’re hers — and they need to be properly dealt with as a result

with all that being said, for as obvious as they seem when written out black lemonade is excellent at keeping all of these things on the down low and playing them off as much more innocent than they are (it’s down to her chilled out demeanour, mostly) so you’re unlikely to notice anything different about her as a yandere compared to how she acts in a normal relationship — well, not until it’s far too late to leave anyway