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ghelullu · 5 days ago

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Berlin 2025 skeletour recap!

Tl;dr: no underwear confirmed by showing off ✨hair💫, continues tradition of papa giving Berlin extra love

More under the cut

Peacefield live is always so so so good, god what a great opener

One (1) song in and papa already showed skin

He's gotten much more creature since I last saw him in Frankfurt and I love thst for him

Spent a lot of time being in a creature competition with mostly rain, but also cirrus

He's also become much more of a diva in some interactions with ghouls and the audience, also after he did some vocals, I think it was the high bit at the end of spirit, very well and the audience cheered, he had this smug face (good for him and also deserved, his vocals are exceptional)

They played cmls and ftpttp again

He was very smiley today!!!

Dew is much more mobile now, still has the boot of course, but walks/limps around on stage a lot and is almost back to his usual little shit self

Phantom still carries the show, once again: he's so good!

Rain is very creature, headbangs so hard thst his headpiece flops around; did a very funny tired-of-your-shit bit when dew does his annoying guitar thing at the end of ritual

Cirrus is the queen, lots of tongue during her keytar solo, we stan. Her and dews sexy instrumental in umbra is SO well executed, they harmonise so so well

The other ghoulettes are very cute and joined dew again at the front of the stage, the cowbell still rules

silly Papa dance during TFIAL

The no jacket, only the silky shirt look for TFIAL is deadly and he KNOWS it. People need to stop the "perpetua is shy" thing, he's hot shit and he knows

He did quite a bit of fingering during cirice bye

And ALSO during dathoml (towards dew, too and dew did some filthy guitaring at him in response, sluts, both of them). German audience loved the song and he let us sing bits of it successfully!

Papa goes through it during satanized, especially during the guitar solo, but also the Latin part (featuring monkbias now on the screen??? Big cheer from the audience)... BUT I think he got the paralysed, laicised etc thing correctly this time???

Oh BTW the teleprompter is back, bht being the showman he is, he didn't look at it a lot tbh, he's VERY busy interacting with the audience and it's so nice to see

The way papa raises from below the stage with the cowbell raised above his head triumphantly before snapping out of it nd staring at it confused kills me

What also killed me was how he stared into my eyes again at the beginning of umbra for a LONG time and I just can't handle this, riperoni

Year zero live. Nuff said. Wonderful experience always. No serpent deceiver though, but he did count oddly

He was rather chatty today, he spoke some German again, talked about that he loves Berlin and thst he of course wasn't here before, but the other guys were. Mentioned the first show some 15 years ago and asked if someone was there (a guy cheered and was declared the boss now). Tf truly seems to enjoy Berlin, he always has very warm words for it (beyond the usual pleasantries singers always say for the place they're currently playing in)

Ktgg featured very bouncy papa again, and lots of skin when the shirt went up with his arms, he seemed to have a ton of fun, which is always nice to see

He blew a perpetua cosplayer a big prominent kiss which was hilarious

I think this is a good moment to mention that his shirt goes higher up than usual when he really lifts his arms and leans back and thst his already very low riding pants slip even lower all the time and combining these two things ended up showing us definite proof that there's no underwear anywhere, yeah, uhm. So. There was hair.

Absolute slut.

Taint tickling is BACK for mummy dust

He started mummy dust with thrusts right away, touched the ghulge intensely, deep thrusts for the usual thrusty bit, all around very horny, very growly, nice.

He did the school night bit again but didn't take into account that Berlin has a holiday tomorrow and was like "are you fucking with me????" 😂(same tbh bc I also only learned about the holiday today); always impressed with how good his German pronunciation is, he said Mittwoch perfectly

I can't express my love for monstrance clock as a closer enough. It was my first ghost song ever and it's such a fantastic closer with everyone singing it. Truly wonderful. And horny.

His encore speech was very funny, I forgot almost all of it sadly, but he mocked us in a fake German accent for being predictable and then said they're not like other bands, they don't have any good stuff for an encore left, they'll now play some improvised jazz rap or krautrock (I would kill for him to perform krautrock pls), he really was so relaxed and chatty!

Bouncy papa for Dance Macabre and we got a single "wobble!", more skin, more touching, more dying (I was the one dying)

Dew and Papa hugged before Squammer and Dew squeezed and kinda stroked his waist a bit during the little speech thing he does there (also pointing out Dews boot situation during the show!)

Squammer ended not with the long note but "right here, right... That's it, we are done Berlin" (or something like that, I don't remember the exact words but it was so funny)

Honestly these shows are so much fun, there's so much going on, they have figured out almost all the technical issues, it's so so good

He let the audience sing multiple bits, which is incredibly brave with German audiences, we are notoriously horrible and shy, but it worked WELL! Proud of us

I wish they'd turn up papas mic during some songs more and ESPECIALLY during his talking bits bc often you can't really hear him (often the drums are still going etc, it's very difficult to understand what he says sometimes)

I managed to smuggle a 750ml bottle into the venue in my bra so that's my big brag of the night, it saved my life - only for then to be killed by multiple papa eye contact incidents and the....... Other situation

#The band ghost #Ghost #Skeletour #Papa v perpetua #Papa v #Perpetua #Berlin 2025 #It talks #Lus ghravel fun #I probably forgot a lot bht I had food poisoning until this morning and 87 headaches rn #So I'll add more tomorrow probably #Skeletour recap #Ritual recap

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opbackgrounds · 4 months ago

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The Romanticism of One Piece I: Definition

Part II Full essay posted on AO3 here

“Romanticism is the star which weeps” —Alfred de Musset

One Piece is a Romance. It’s the title of the opening chapter as well as the first volume, and was liked enough by Oda that he recycled it for the first chapter and volume after the time skip. Sprinkled throughout the story Luffy and others will declare certain moments to be romantic. But what does that actually mean?

If you go to website for Mirriam-Webster and scroll down to the fourth definition, you’ll read that romance is “a: marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious, or idealized

b: often capitalized : of, relating to, or having the characteristics of romanticism”

It’s this second aspect of romance that I want to focus on today, because while One Piece is imaginative, and emotional, and adventurous, the roots of the manga dig much deeper than these superficial traits and tap into the much bigger movement that at one point dominated the Western World.

As with many things, Romanticism is a concept that at its face seems quite simple, but the more you try to pin down specifics the more it squirms into something amorphous and difficult to define. In his lectures on Romanticism, Isaiah Berlin described it as, “the greatest single shift in consciousness of the West” before spending an entire hour of his introductory lecture trying to distill it down to its purest essence. In the Romantic movement we find our modern ideas of imagination, childhood, and sentimentality. Its influence dominated everything from politics, philosophy, poetry, literature, art, music and architecture. From the Romantics was born the Nationalism of the late 18th and early 19th centuries, which would lead to tragic results in the 20th. It spanned Europe and America, the Western world alight with hope after the French Revolution only to watch with horror as it was followed by the Reign of Terror, Napoleon, and the wars he brought to the rest of the continent.

Pinpointing dates is difficult, but for simplicity’s sake it’s easiest to put it as lasting from approximately the mid 1700s through the mid to late 1800s. As Romanticism was a pan-European movement, it didn’t hit every place at the same time. It swept from France through Europe and eventually America at its own pace, blooming and dying independently of one another, with various precursor movements such as the Storm and Stress era in Germany, as well as holdovers lasting well after the golden age ended, the last embers clinging on until the First World War. Romanticism picked up the local flavor of wherever it went, the Romantic ideals of France related but not identical to the Romantic ideals of Germany, just as the Romanticism of William Wordsworth wasn’t the same as the Romanticism of Lord Byron.

When attempting to define Romanticism, it is perhaps easiest to see it in what it was trying to push back against. As with every movement, the Romantics were in conversation with the past, in their case the Enlightenment thinkers of the 17th and early 18th centuries. The Enlightenment as a movement is just as difficult to pin down as the Romantics, but on the whole it said that there was one, specific way men should live their lives, that there was a formula for happiness and improvement of the human condition using reason, science, and an appropriate methodology. While the various Enlightenment figures all disagreed what that methodology was, for the most part they all agreed that it existed. It favored cold, hard logic, a celebration of science and of learning, and was hopeful for a future where humanity could better itself through its own effort by understanding the universe in which it lived.

The Romantics looked at all of this, and said…no.

There are other factors to consider when discussing Romanticism, such as the increase in urbanization following the Industrial Revolution and the political instability brought on by corrupt, crumbling monarchies and the revolutions they spurned, but in my mind this defiant no is the beating heart of Romanticism. It’s a philosophy that emphasizes the self over all, prioritizing feeling over reason and experience over logic. In fact, to the Romantic, there was no knowledge without feeling.

Institutions such as the church lost some of their power even as the Romantics became more obsessed with spirituality and the occult. The idealized, pastoral past of their beloved romantic ballads was yearned for even as revolts broke out against the monarchies that ruled in those stories of old. There was veneration of the child and the so-called Noble Savage, who were free from the corrupting forces of society and civilization. Freedom was the rallying cry, with abolition, women’s, and animal rights movements all stirring within this time period, but there was no greater freedom than the freedom of self. To do what you wanted when you wanted to do it.

There was a preoccupation with individual genius, and there was little that could bolster one’s career more than living fast and dying young. The Romantic world was one where death was frightfully common, with the increased density of the rapidly growing cities leading to frequent breakouts of disease even as populations boomed. Nearly half of children didn’t live to see their fifth birthday, and for those who did survive to adulthood, the political instability of the time made the future seem uncertain. Better then, to reject the all-consuming industry of the modern age and the cities that seemed to destroy more than they built in favor of spending time alone in the glories of nature and their own imagination, living as they pleased, beholden to no one but their own conscience.

You’ll notice in the examples that I quote that most are white men and most of these men were well-educated. It’s a simple fact that the opportunities they were afforded were different than women and people of color, and their voices were amplified as a result. While there’s been increasing scholarship in recent years to diversify the canon, and there’s good fruit to be found in that regard, it must be acknowledged that the worldview shaped by the most famous Romantics is limited by this singular perspective.

That being said, there can be a more universal application to Romanticism, and One Piece proves that. The defiant no to the binding chains of society and the enthusiastic yes of personal freedom is something that we all feel at one point or another, and it’s what makes up the core of One Piece. Romanticism is a cosmic wanderlust, the ability to poeticize everything both great and small, the neverending search for, well…that depends on the person. But the important part is that they do search and they do dream. And it’s that search that I want to explore in more detail as I dig into specific aspects of Romanticism, and how One Piece applies.

#opbackgrounds #the romanticism of one piece #romanticism #one piece

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octuscle · 4 months ago

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Exchange student: Berlin, Germany

October 01, 2024

Brad had come to Berlin as an exchange student because it was supposed to be the party capital of Europe. He was looking forward to a semester of spring break. But he quickly became disillusioned. There was hardly anyone walking around at the Technical University who looked anything like Spring Break. Most of them were dressed in black, with short hair and pale faces. Brad stood out like a sore thumb. And apart from that, Berlin was very different from what he had imagined. He had been told that Germany was so incredibly clean. Berlin was dirty and run-down. The people were unfriendly. The weather was terrible. By the time he moved into his room in the run-down student dormitory, which had probably last been renovated in the 1980s, he was homesick for Providence.

Tonight was a faculty welcome party. The building was an old factory hall, a ruin. The music was just one thing: deafeningly loud. The people at the party were all stoned or high on pills. It stank of sweat, cigarette smoke and sweet energy drinks. Brad wondered whether he could still change universities. Munich was supposed to be much more civilized than Berlin. Someone gave him a funny-looking pill. It was about 02:00 when Brad left the party. His sweater had disappeared. But it had been better than he had feared.

November 05, 2024

Monday was the day Brad recovered. There weren't usually any really good parties on Mondays. And if there were, he could make an exception. In fact, Brad was the go-to person for many of his fellow students when it came to where to go anyway. Brad was usually extremely well informed. Not necessarily about life at university… He had let his attendance at lectures slip a little in the first month. But hey, there was still ages until exams. Tonight was encore.une.fois at the OX! Of course Brad was on the guest list. From 21:00 he was in the gym, pumping up his muscles. And from 01:00 he was on the dance floor. Shit, he had expected something like Springbreak. How boring Springbreak was! Real life was raging here. All it took was a few pills, Red Bull and the right beats. And that was definitely the case today!

At 05:00 the music went off and the cleaning light came on. Brad checked his messages to find out where the best after-hours party was. There were no important lectures on Wednesdays anyway. And he was still far too wound up to sleep.

December 20, 2024

Uni was over until the new year. Actually, he should have been back in Connecticut by now. But Brad wanted to take at least this weekend to Berghain. Moritz had become his friend and business partner. The two were the shooting stars of Berlin's party organizers. Brad had collected 39K followers in the last four weeks alone. His party outfits defined what bouncers wanted to see in the clubs. Normally, DJs had groupies. Or musicians. Moritz and Brad always had a whole cluster of guys and girls hanging around them, basking in their presence and hoping to get shagged by one of them. Particularly lucky ones claimed to have been fucked by both at the same time. Whether this was true was debatable. But as a legend, it was certainly a cool story.

Their gas masks were elaborate custom-made masks that gave off a well-dosed mixture of poppers and laughing gas. Not that the two of them needed it. But it made the intoxication of a party night perfect. There were always two spare masks and the necessary cartridges in their rucksacks. To recharge their gas masks. Or to let very privileged fans share in their intoxication. It was 03:00. Too early to decide whether anyone would get that privilege tonight. Now it was time to dance. The way they only danced at Berghain.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #ai image #raver tf #techno tf #race change #mind tf #rubber tf

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ngdrb · 3 months ago

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In 1923 Adolf Hitler incited an insurrection against the German government. He was tried, given a slap on the wrist, and became a convicted felon. Despite being treated charitably by the judge, Hitler claimed the trial was political persecution and successfully portrayed himself as a victim of the “corrupt" Social Democrats.

Hitler cleverly positioned himself as the voice of the "common man," railing against the "elites," cultural "degeneracy," and the establishment, who he all labeled as "Marxists." He claimed the education system was indoctrinating children to hate Germany, and promised to return Germany to greatness.

To solidify his base, Hitler masterfully scapegoated minorities for the nation's problems, exploiting societal divisions with an "us vs. them" narrative. Many Germans took the bait. Hitler's Nazi Party continued to gain traction, until he became Chancellor in 1933.

Hitler appointed German oligarchs as his economic advisors. He proceeded to privatize government run utilities, solidifying support of the economic elite.

With the working class divided along cultural and ethnic lines, the Nazis shut down workers unions and abolished strikes.

Progressives and trade unionists were imprisoned and sent to concentration camps. Corporate profits skyrocketed while working class Germans lived paycheck to paycheck.

Hitler, who became a billionaire while in office, knew he and his clan of oligarchs could get away with the scam if they constantly had an "enemy within" to blame while the corporatocracy robbed the country blind.

An easy target was one of the smallest minorities. Hitler removed birthright citizenship rights of Jews and started rounding them up for mass deportations for being "illegally" in the country.

The German press under Nazi rule highlighted instances of violence by Jews to convince the public that Jewish immigrants were a danger to the "real Germans."

Hitler wasted no time dismantling democratic institutions. Loyalty wasn't just encouraged; it was demanded. Opponents were silenced. Media that dared to questioned[sic] him were vilified as "the enemy" and "Marxists."

Hitler's Propaganda Minister, Joseph Goebbels, bragged about how the Nazis were able to intimidate the media into giving them favorable coverage, and didn't need to give direct orders.

The Nazi regime and its followers collected all books they saw as promoting "degeneracy" or what would be considered "woke" today, and burned them in large bonfires. They also burned books that promoted class consciousness.

Berlin had a thriving LGBTQ community in the 1920s, and even had the first transgender clinic. The Nazis burned it to the ground. LGBTQ people were sent to concentration camps and forced to wear triangle badges. Many were killed in the Holocaust.

The Nazis also saw manhood as under threat by independent women who didn't rely on men. In 1934, Hitler proclaimed, “A women’s world is her her husband, her family, her children, her house." Laws that had protected women's rights were repealed and new laws were introduced to restrict women to the home and in their roles as wives and mothers.

Reproductive rights were severely rolled back, and doctors who performed abortions could face the death penalty.

Despite all of this, the German people didn't have a similar historical parallel to look upon as a warning.

Most Germans never acted like the sky was falling.

Most just went along with their lives as usual, until many of their lives were snuffed out. By the time Hitler's reign was forced to an end by the Allied Powers, 11 million people were murdered in the Holocaust, and 70-85 million were killed in WW2 .

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system-to-the-madness · 2 months ago

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A Past Revisited - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Pairing: James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes x fem!Reader Era: from CATWS to Black Panther Genre: hurt/comfort Word Count: 4 922 Warnings: no use of (y/n), Reader was born in the GDR (DDR) and knows German, canon-typical violence and weapons, Reader gets threatened by the Winter Soldier, use of German (translations provided in-text), fall of the Berlin wall (I wasn’t there, so probably historically inaccurate), Reader’s father was killed (not by the Winter Soldier), blood Summary: All your life the eyes of the man who almost killed you haunt your nightmares, so when you find these same eyes in Steve’s friend, you struggle with overcoming the past Prompts: not really a prompt but ‘the past coming back to haunt you’ A/N: I think I accidently ruined @spongelll 's weekend by giving y'all the choice between Bucky and Viktor. Well, today's Bucky's turn, next week Viktor. Sorry. (Although I'll admit the poll was a closer cut than I thought it would be.)

It felt like a déjà-vu, like you had lived this situation before. No. It didn’t feel like you had. You had been in this situation before. It actually was not the first time Winter Soldier pressed the muzzle of a gun against your forehead. But this time your lips were not quivering, nor were you crying for your mother as you stared past the gun directly in the bluest pair of eyes you had ever seen. The shiver that ran down your spine was not due to the fear that cursed through your veins at being held at gunpoint by the in black dressed assassin. Rather it was a memory of a cold November night over twenty years ago.

“Bringst Du’s endlich zu Ende,” – are you finally going to finish it – you asked in German, as you stared at the man. “Ich hab’ fast 25 Jahre auf Dich gewartet.” I waited almost 25 years for you.

Blue eyes widened slightly at the use of the foreign language and yet you were certain he had understood you. Did it matter that he looked barely a day older than he had that night in Berlin, that night when the history of a country had been changed forever? It was the same man, there was no doubt about it, you saw it in his eyes, saw it in the way his finger tightened around the trigger, and when a shiver went through him, you knew he felt the same cold November air from 1989 as you did. If only you inhaled deeply enough, you might still smell your mother’s perfume, the smell of gasoline.

Now you were on your knees, where you had fallen during the fight against the assassin, but then you had been just six years old, looking up at the masked man, who stood beside the border patrol hut.

Your mother was waving your passport into a soldier’s face, screaming at him about a radio report and the opening of borders, while the chilly November air blew into your worn-down coat. You stared at the strange soldier, who looked so much different from the ones you knew were patrolling the streets. Their pressed, green-grey shirts and trousers were paired with red-brown belts, but the man who stood before you was wearing all black, a mask that covered half his face, making it look like he was being gagged. Around his eyes, black paint was smeared as he stared at the people crowding at the border point. He seemed indifferent to the people requesting passage, but his striking blue eyes looked sad in the harsh light of the flood lights lighting up the bridge where the crowd had gathered. You were only a small child, not knowing that you were becoming witness to one of the most important historical events of post-war Germany, nor were you aware of the danger you were in.

While your mother held your hand tightly in hers, waving your passport at the soldier she was shouting at, alongside a dozen others, you kept your eyes on the mysterious man before you.

“Are you sad,” you asked him over the shouting of the other people, the German words slipping over your small lips before you had considered them. “You look sad.”

He did not react, only looking at the crowd before him. Until another soldier, a normal one, dressed in the familiar, fear-inducing grey-green intervened.

“That’s enough,” he shouted. “Soldat, the girl-”

Before you or anyone could understand what had happened, the man in black had grabbed your arm, tearing your hand out of your mothers.

Panic surged through you as your fingers slipped out of your mothers, and the last thing you saw before you looked back at him, were the terrified eyes of your mother as she tried to take your hand back into hers.

The man held you an arm’s length away from himself, the fingers of his left hand, dressed in a metallic glove, painfully tight around your thin arm. And then the muzzle of his gun pressed against your forehead.

“Mama,” you whimpered out, but kept your eyes fixed on the man. He was looking straight at you, but at the same time he seemed to be looking right through you, as if behind you he could see memories playing out that made him hesitate.

“Soldat!”

The other soldier shouted, and the finger at the trigger quivered, but didn’t deliver the final squeeze. Instead, he blinked, and suddenly his eyes focused on you, and he almost seemed surprised as if only he had realized now, that he was pressing a gun to a little girl's head.

Staring up at him through tears, unable to speak, you tried to understand what was going on in his mind, tried to puzzle together the previous indifference with the terror that now flickered in his eyes and the way his hand loosened around your arm.

And then there was a whistle, shouts for the soldiers to lower their weapon, someone grabbing the gun out of the man’s hand, and your mother pulling you against her chest, lifting you up into her arms and carrying you over the border at the border point of Bornholmer Straße from the German Democratic Republic into a new life, a different life, in the Federal Republic of Germany. But the Soldat’s eyes would keep haunting you, until you were back face to face with him.

Somehow, your mother carrying you away from him had brought you right back in front of his gun. He was staring at you the same way he had back then, almost as if looking through you, as if looking at a memory that played out behind you.

“Did you also kill my father, when he escaped,” you asked, this time in English. “Or am I special?”

The assassin kept staring at you, but his gun quivered again. He looked exactly the same way you remembered him, blue eyes, black mask, that made him look like he was gagged so he couldn’t talk, strips of his gun holster around his chest like restraints.

“Komm schon, ich hab‘ nicht den ganzen Tag Zeit!“ Come on, I don’t have the whole day, the words shot over your lips in frustration. Gravel was digging into your knees, the muzzle of the gun into your forehead. “Worauf wartest Du? Mach schon, Soldat!” What are you waiting for? Do it, Soldier!

And suddenly his eyes snapped to you, filled with the same quiet terror as all these years ago on the bridge. He straightened, his shoulders rolled back the faintest bit. But then his eyes grew cold, as if he had made a decision, and he steadied the gun, his finger beginning to squeeze the trigger.

The next moment a flash of blue and beige came shooting from the right as Steve tackled the assassin, saving you from certain death.

~*~

The next time you came face to face with those blue eyes, there was no malice behind them, no indifference, only pain and resignation as the man rubbed his left wrist, not a metal glove, as you had assumed as a child, but a prosthetic.

Steve had told you about him, about his best friend, the famous Sargent James Barnes. When you had heard Steve talk about him, before the events in DC, when you had let him show you pictures from the 40s – it had almost felt like he could walk in through the door at any moment and swipe you off your feet with a charming smile, a few clever words and a dance or two. Before you sat someone entirely different. His hair was shorter than it had been two years ago, but longer than in the old pictures, his frame somehow even broader. Slight stubble was covering his cheeks and blood was running down from his hairline.

Then again, maybe he was still the man Steve had described to you over nursing a glass of whiskey that had definitely more done to your system to his, when you realized the description of his best friend had you almost swooning a little, up until the point where he had described his eye colour at least. You couldn’t really stand blue eyes, not since the man with the black face paint and the blue eyes had almost shot you the night the Berlin Wall had fallen. Those conversations with Steve about his friend Bucky had been before the Winter Soldier had almost killed you two years ago. But now the same man who had almost killed you, smiled as he remembered how a sickly Steve had stuffed newspaper into his shoes, and for a moment, it had almost felt like you knew him; the friend of a friend, someone you would laugh with over a drink, someone you could imagine joining the group for a night out after a long mission.

As if he had heard your thoughts, he looked up, his blue eyes taking you in and for a moment you froze, almost waiting for the feeling of a metal hand around your arm, gravel under your knees, a cold gun to your forehead. Instead, he averted his eyes again, as if you had caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Shooting Steve a quick glance while he was talking to Sam, you took a deep breath. You were no Avenger, but had been working close enough with them for long enough to have learnt the one or the other thing about bravery, so you took that deep breath and grabbed your backpack, walking over to the man you knew as the Winter Soldier, but Steve so easily called Bucky.

You could tell he was monitoring each of your movements as you walked towards him, even with his eyes on the ground. Every step felt like you were walking through hip deep mud, your body protesting against your intention to close the distance to the assassin, but you kept pushing on.

He was still not looking at you as you stopped before him and zipped open your backpack, only tensed, as if he expected you to shoot him on the spot. Instead, you pulled out a first aid kit.

“You’re bleeding,” you told him. “Let me look at it?”

His jaw tensed for a moment as if he considered declining the offer. “It’ll have healed by tomorrow.”

You didn’t answer, only kept looking at him while he had his eyes averted from you, staring at the floor. He had even stopped massaging his wrist. You wondered if he had feeling in the metal hand.

Eventually after what felt like an eternity, he finally nodded, and you pulled gauze and some disinfectant from the first aid kit.

Taking another deep breath, your reached for his hair, giving him a short warning that you were going to touch him, before brushing the hair at his hairline back, revealing the cut there. It was not deep, but almost an inch long.

“I’ll spray some disinfectant on the cut, it’ll be cold for a moment,” you warned him, before doing as you had told him.

“Sie haben fast keinen Akzent.“ You barely got an accent.

Surprised you blinked, momentarily halting the application of the disinfectant as the man before you spoke to you in German.

“Sie auch nicht.” You neither.

The man blew air through his nose, maybe an attempt to laugh, as you begun dapping at the cut. He probably had been right about it having healed by tomorrow. The wound did not look like it was only a few hours old, more like a few days.

“Sie,” he noticed thoughtfully. “Why so polite all of a sudden? Didn’t you prefer the informal you?”

“I don’t know you,” you shrugged, beginning to wipe at the dried blood in his hairline. “But politeness is usually not something I give much of a damn about when a national crisis is in progress, or I am about to be murdered.”

For a long moment he was silent, and you almost worried you might have hurt his feelings. Maybe you had said too much, had reminded him of something he rather would not have remembered.

“Ich bin Bucky,” he finally continued the conversation. I’m Bucky. “Bleiben wir beim Du.” Let’s stay with the informal you.

Quietly you introduced your first name to him, and in turn, trying not to move his head while you were still wiping at the blood in his hair, he held out his right hand for you, glancing at you from under your hands.

For a moment you stared at his hand, wondering if he really expected you to shake it, the same way two new acquaintances would. Seeing the blue of his eyes made another shiver run down your spine, made the smell of your mother’s cheap perfume rise in your nose, made you wait for the press of cold metal against your head.

Pointedly you looked back to where you had been attempting to clean him up and grabbed his chin instead, tilting his head so you could clean the blood away from the side of his face. You knew he could pull away any moment, hell, you were standing to his left, one sweep of his arm and he could throw you across the room, probably kill you in the process. But instead, he let you tilt his head, let you use the disinfectant that had run down his face to scrub at the blood, his skin warm and soft, his stubble rough and prickly against the gauze in your fingers. His blue eyes turned away, focusing on a point in the distance.

For a while he let you scrub at him, before he suddenly spoke up again.

“I didn’t kill your father,” he whispered, making you halt for a moment.

Instead of answering, you just furrowed your brows, while continuing.

“You asked,” he explained his sudden statement. “Back in DC.”

“I know,” you answered, realizing your voice was quivering slightly as you did. Clearing your throat and taking another breath, you turned back to wiping the last remains of blood out of his beard. “He got shot by border patrol. He wasn’t important enough to be assassinated by the Winter Soldier.”

“I almost killed you. Twice.”

“Except you didn’t. You hesitated. Twice. Why?”

You didn’t get an answer, as Steve called for Bucky and you, and you let go of his chin, and stepped away, wondering if along with the feeling of a gun muzzle against your forehead, a metal hand around your arm and gravel underneath your knees, you’d now also associate the feeling of a stubbled chin in your hand with the sight of blue eyes.

It was a strange feeling. Since you had been five years old, you had dreaded the sight of blue eyes, and now you were sitting in a small hut in Africa, waiting desperately for the same blue eyes that had haunted your nightmares for over 25 years to open.

“He’ll be fine,” the comforting voice with the familiar Wakandan accent of Shuri assured you. Considering she was barely more than a child, you were concerned for yourself that you relied so heavily on her reassurance.

“For most of my life he was the personification of the absolute worst in my world and over the matter of a few days that view has been turned upside down,” you explained, furrowing your brows and wringing your hands in your lap, suppressing the need to reach out and weave your fingers through Bucky’s. After Shuri had eliminated the trigger words from Bucky’s mind, and Okoye had confirmed the procedures success, Shuri had made the offer of a second surgery: remove the brutally implanted metal plates HYDRA had fused with Bucky’s body and replace them with a better version, one that would not let him flinch in pain occasionally, when damaged nerves were firing. You had no idea how it was supposed to work, knowing the Wakandan technology was so far above your understanding of medicine that it would have taken you several years to even begin to understand how it worked, but what you gathered was that they had a way of connecting all the nerves in a way that perfectly mimicked a real arm.

Bucky had jumped at the idea so quickly, that it had almost been concerning, and had made you realise that even after you had shared a few longer talks with him by now, you still had not even the faintest understanding of how desperately he needed to get rid of any reminder of what HYDRA had done to him. He had declined the offer of a new arm though, saying he would only accept the offer if it was T’Challa’s wish for him to fight, something that had concerned you even more because in his mind it seemed like having two arms would make him feel like a weapon.

What had concerned you most though, was the way he had asked you to stay with him in Wakanda, right before he had been taken under before the first procedure. He had spoken to Steve, knowing his best friend had made himself an internationally wanted man for his sake, before his incredibly blue eyes had fixed on you.

“I have a request, which is too much to ask of anyone, but especially of you,” he had told you.

“Spuck's aus.” Spit it out.

A smile tucked at his lips, not the sad one he had shown while talking to Steve, explaining his decision. It was a rather amused one.

“Be here when I wake up.”

You had felt the way Steve had looked between the two of you, but you had just looked at Bucky, at the same blue eyes that had haunted you for decades in your nightmares. There was no plea, no submission, no expectation in his eyes, only the simple question. You bowed your head in response, a slow, wordles yes, and when Bucky had leant back in the capsule to be frozen again, he reached his hand out. Not for Steve, not for Shuri or T’Challa. For you. It wasn’t like that time you had cleaned him up only a few days ago, not a greeting. It was the hope for comfort. So you stepped forward, grabbed his hand and squeezed his fingers briefly before he let go, letting himself be taken under.

He had squeezed your fingers the same way before the second procedure. You still felt his warm, dry skin against yours, his bigger fingers closing against yours as if your hand alone had the power to evaporate his nerves. And now you wished you could feel their steady seeming warmth again. But he was still asleep, and you wouldn’t just take a sleeping person’s hand. Especially not without knowing what exactly he had been put through by the hands of HYDRA.

“When he’s up, make him drinks some water and if he’s in pain, call me,” Shuri asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“You’re not going to wait here until he’s awake,” you wondered, concern swinging in your voice.

“He’s in good hands,” she shrugged with a knowing glance, “and there were no complications, so I don’t think he’ll need medical attention.”

And with those words and a wink you were not sure how to understand, she saw herself out.

It only took a few more minutes, before Bucky begun stirring. His brows furrowed as if in discomfort, and his hand begun patting over the thin blanket that covered him up to the chin, as if searching for something.

“Bucky,” you tried biting back the smile, only half-successfully, as you scooted closer to him, but still not daring to take his hand.

He hummed affirmatively, furrowing his brows further before he blinked his eyes open, their blue striking even in the dim light of the hut.

“You’re here,” he whispered, his eyes ghosting over your face as he reached for your own hand, lacing his fingers between yours.

Your breath skipped at the action, but you just nodded and smiled.

“I promised you I would,” you told him.

“Did you?”

“You were asleep,” you explained. Indeed, after you were waiting for him to wake up after his first procedure, you had promised yourself more even than him to be there for all future procedures he would have to be put through.

Bucky scoffed, clearly amused, before he suddenly grew quiet, watching you carefully for a moment before he swallowed thickly.

“I know now,” he began, taking a deep breath. “I know now why the Soldat hesitated.”

Not having expected this sudden change in topic, you blinked surprised.

“He couldn’t. In Berlin- you were a child, a little child. He… never killed a child. I think he physically couldn’t. I don’t know about DC, but maybe he recognized you. Maybe…” Bucky hesitated. “Maybe he remembered the one shot he couldn’t take and that made it impossible to do it then.”

“Do you… do you remember? Berlin and DC?”

Bucky sat up, running his hand over his face. “Not really. Not all of it. Bits and pieces here and there. But in DC, I remember thinking of Berlin, a memory I shouldn’t have had, and I remember being unable to pull that trigger. I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, averting your eyes from where he sat, letting them wander over to the door and to the tree outside. The setting sun drew long shadows over the ground, and suddenly you had the distinct feeling, that the day was not the only thing ending.

“For what,” Bucky asked, and you could hear the furrow of his brows in his voice.

“For telling me. It helps.”

“It helps?”

You shook your head and sighed quietly before turning to look back at him. Meeting his eyes, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine at their cold blue.

“With processing everything. It was kind of… a lot.”

Bucky nods and suddenly you realized that only a few days had passed since he had been torn out of the quiet life he had built for himself in Bucharest.

“Can I ask you something?”

Over the past days, since Shuri had taken care of the trigger words, Bucky had often used this question to precede inquiries about SHIELD, Steve, the Avengers and everything else really. It always gave you the impression that it took him a certain amount of courage to ask, and you wondered if he would have felt the same hesitation if it had been Steve sitting next to him. You were little more than a stranger to him.

“Ask away,” you replied anyway, confused when he suddenly lowered his eyes.

“You flinch when you look at me.”

There was no hurt in his voice, no reproach. It was a simple observation, but one that made you feel guilty nonetheless.

For a moment you waited for the question, but when he did not ask it, you assumed the unspoken ‘why’ was what he had wanted to know.

“I can’t help it,” you answered slowly, watching as Bucky sat, hunched, and fiddled with the blanket in his lap. “It’s your eyes.” You could see how his gaze flickered over to you, from the corner of his eyes, but he did not turn to look at you fully. “They’re really all I remembered of you. Your eyes and your hand on my arm and the gun to my head. I haven’t- I’ve been struggling to meet people’s eyes since, especially when they’re as blue as yours.”

“You don’t struggle looking at Steve,” Bucky mumbled, and if you hadn’t known better, you would have assumed hurt.

“Different blue,” you shrugged.

For a while you sat in silence, not sure what to say. You wanted to ask about his shoulder, wanted to ask if he was in pain, but bit the question down with the same harshness, with which you pushed the thought away, that you wanted to see his eyes again.

But when he made no attempt to get up or look at you, and the shadows outside grew longer, turning blue, you finally called his name, quietly.

His eyes snapped up, and he moved his head a fraction, but stopped, not looking at you fully, not letting you see his eyes. He was trying to keep his eyes hidden to avoid scaring you, you realized with a pang in your chest, and suddenly you were reminded of all the things Steve had told you about his Bucky. How caring he had been, how considerate, how he had always done everything he could to accommodate Steve, even when it meant cutting back on his own fun, just to avoid Steve getting another asthma attack. The same man, who had been put through more than you could ever imagine, now avoided the impulse to look at your eyes, simply to lessen your discomfort around him.

“Bucky,” you said again, reaching out for him, before stopping. “Can I touch you?”

Bucky blinked; his eyes directed at the entrance to the hut. “You don’t have to ask.”

“Yes, yes I do.”

He took a moment to process your answer, before he nodded.

Slowly you reached out, taking his chin, and turning his head to you, similar to the way you had done after meeting him as Bucky for the first time. Except this time, you were more careful, didn’t grip his chin as tightly, weren’t as rough with him as you had been back then. His eyes flickered over the traditional Wakandan clothes you were wearing, a gift from Shuri, up to your chin, but then he cast them down again, not daring to meet yours.

“Bucky,” you called him again, and finally he looked at you, mere inches away from his face.

A shiver ran through you as you took in the clear blue of his eyes, the fine pattern of his irises. Memories of sensations flashed across your body, the smell of your mother’s perfume, the pressure of a metal hand around your arm, gravel underneath your knees, a gun pressing to your forehead. Warm skin and rough stubble under your fingertips, the scent of disinfectant. Only a few days had passed since this last memory, but his beard had grown in that time, no longer just stubble. The hair seemed softer now under your fingers, his skin just as soft, but the warmth that radiated from him seemed to have increased.

It hit you like a punch in the stomach when you realized that he let himself be at your complete mercy, was completely relaxed in your hand. He trusted you. You just weren’t sure why.

While you were wondering about these things, you couldn’t help noticing the shift in Bucky’s eyes. At first there had been insecurity, hesitancy when his eyes had met yours again, but then his expression changed, his brows drew together just slightly, and a feeling of regret swam in his eyes, as if he hated the part of himself that had scared you so badly, had haunted you since that November night in Berlin. No, he actually hated that part of himself, the part, HYDRA had turned into the Winter Soldier.

“I’ll get used to it,” you mumbled out, not sure who you were talking to, but Bucky seemed to understand that you were referring to his eyes.

He inhaled deeply, as if to say something, and opened his mouth before hesitating. It was this small gesture, that suddenly made you aware of how close you had lent in, only a few inches separating you now, bridged by your hand at his chin. It was a reflex, you told yourself later, not at all motivated by what Steve had told you about him before you had found out Bucky was still alive, not by what he had allowed you to observe about himself over the past days. But your eyes flickered down to his lips, just for a split second, the thought forming, that you could get used to this, his intense eyes focused on nothing but you, the strong, but calm presence of his body so close to you, his breath fanning over your face in an even pattern.

As quickly as possible you looked back up, but it had been enough for Bucky to notice, judging by the way his eyes softened, and the corner of his lips pulled upwards only the faintest bit. That evening, as the sun sunk behind the mountains, you let go of his chin as if you had been burnt, distracting yourself by starting to talk about dinner, but the damage had been inevitably done. Bucky had found something to hold onto, and as much as you tried denying it, so had you.

The moments of prolonged eye contact increased as the weeks passed, dragged out, let the memories of the gun against your head be overshadowed by the feeling of Wakandan summer heat on your skin, the sound of bleating goats and Bucky’s steady presence at your side. And when eventually he was the one to grab your chin, after you had averted your eyes after a particularly flirty comment of his, it was impossible to tell, who of you leant in first. All you knew was that the feeling of the cold Berlin autumn night and the gun against your head had irrevocably been replaced by the feeling of Bucky’s gentle touch against your skin whenever you saw his eyes.

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kamelika · 24 days ago

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match made in berlin part 2

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

reuniting with kaiser after years of seperation (a bit of ooc kaiser)

You clench your bag and bite your lip. You still refused to believe it's him. Kaiser ran up to you and embraced you, tightly. To this, you turned red but inevitably hugged him back.

"Why so flustered? You're the one who taught me how to hug, y'know."

"That, I know..."

"So hug me tighter."

He commanded. You two stood in eachother's arms for a good while before pulling apart.

"How long has it been?"

You ask.

"I don't know, I didn't want to count."

The atmosphere became thick for a few seconds.

"I saw your name on a soccer channel in tv, but I thought it was a different Kaiser. I couldn't deny you looked uncannily similar to the Kaiser I knew, but uh... What happened exactly after your arrest?"

Kaiser chuckles and smirks, ready to tell you all about what happened dramatically so that you could feel bad and pamper him.

"So you see..."

And he proceeds to storytell for the next hour. He finishes telling you all that happened so far, and you realized something, something bad.

You're late for school.

You snap out of your trance, panicking. You quickly embrace Kaiser and wave him goodbye, but he grasps your wrist just before you walk out of his line of sight.

"Kaiser, let go! I'm late for high school!"

"Wait. Can't you skip just for today? I want you to come to my training. Better never than late, y'know?"

You replied to this with a facepalm.

"... You have money now, go spend it on studying."

Kaiser rolls his eyes.

"So mean. Come. Now. What was that word...- oh- Please."

You sigh, giving in to his pleading.

"Fine, just for today."

"Knew you couldn't resist me."

"Bastard."

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You two arrive at the stadium that Kaiser trains at, and today, Kaiser trains extra hard, just to impress you.

"That was impressive."

You state, complimenting just to be nice, but he decides to reply with;

"I know. Have you fallen for me yet?"

You softly jab him at this. Before you could reply with actual words, one of his teammates walked up to Kaiser. A boy with brown hair and pink ends.

"Kaiser, who's this?"

"My girlfriend."

And almost immediately, you respond.

"As if, bastard."

You say, softly hitting his head.

"I'm Y/n L/n, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

You extend your hand and the sweet male kindly grasps it and gently shakes it.

"Alexis Ness. Nice to meet you too."

"What the hell, why are you nicer to him?"

Kaiser waves his hand up and down like swatting a fly.

"Shoo, shoo, Ness. I need private time with Girlfriend."

"Can you find a new nickname?"

"Fine. How 'bout princess?"

"No.

"Dollface?"

"No."

"Liebling?"

"No."

"Schatz?"

"No."

ness is walking away awkwardly, not wanting to interrupt.

"Honey?"

"No."

"Wifey?"

"Why are they getting worse?? Just call me (your nickname)."

"Fine, you're boring."

"Mmmhm."

Soon later, Kaiser's break ends, and he gets back to training.

"Sorry bae, duty calls."

"Thank god."

He winks and blows you a kiss waving goodbye. Throughout the practice, your eyes can't help but glue themselves onto him. He notices this rather quickly, though, and flashes you a smirk. You grimace at this, avoiding his gaze.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Training ends and you two talk outside the stadium.

"Today was fun."

"Was not. I spent the whole day sitting down and scrolling on my phone."

"And staring at me."

You rolled your eyes at this, finding his antics unamusing.

"Woah, you didn't deny it this time."

"Okay, shut up and say goodbye so I can leave."

Kaiser chuckles and ruffles your head.

"Okay, fine. Let's end the day here then. Give me your number, darling."

"I'd rather not, but fine."

"See? You can't resist me."

"Shut up."

The two of you exchange numbers and Kaiser kisses you on the cheek, and you reply to it by bashing his head multiple times.

"Your face is red again."

You ignore him, keeping him at an arm's distance and waving goodbye before you two went your seperate ways.

You wouldn't admit but...

You already miss him again.

a/n: contemplating whether or not i should make part three

[<back]

#bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #kaiser michael #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser #bllk kaiser #kaiser x reader #blue lock kaiser #kaiser smut #michael kaiser x you #micheal kaiser #bluelock #blue lock x you #bllk x you

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itsyveinthesky · 1 year ago

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You are turning 3 today.

In January and February I took you to Lappland for the first time. @brilliantyears and I like to spend part of the winter there and you loved it of course, after all you are a Finnish Lapphund.

Later in February and early March we were in the South of France and drove up the Atlantic coast to Carcassonne and La Rochelle.

We went to Norway and Sweden in summer and spend the long days hiking and meeting friends we hadn’t seen in a long time.

We spent time at both the German North Sea and Baltic coast and of course you braced every day life with me in Berlin.

I couldn’t have done it without you.

Thanks for being at my side. I love you my sweet girl ❤️

#suomenlapinkoira #finnish lapphund #hundiwundi

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ind1g3n0us-lev1t3 · 1 year ago

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@elenajones23 first of all, who are you, a non Jew to lecture me about what my religion does or doesn’t allow? Who are you to tell me, as someone who doesn't practice the same religion, that I can or cannot do things?

The Torah isn’t a simple set of guidelines and commands, it’s far more complex than that. It has different interpritations, so saying the torah doesn't allow it is blatantly false. The name "Zion" (Promised land) is mentioned 154 times.

“It isn’t your land and it never was your land” bullshit.

We absolutely do have a land, if we don't, then why do we have holy sights in Jerusalem? Why are names like "Jaffa" and "Haifa" Hebrew?

The land of Israel is where my ancestors came from, it is where they lived, it is where they had a connection to, and it is where they suffered under the romans and were exiled.

We were never welcomed in Europe, we were never welcomed in the rest of the middle east.

These are ancient scrolls called the "Dead sea scrolls" which are a set of ancient Jewish writings dating from the 3rd century BCE.

This is all of what remains of our ancient temple, this is what it once was:

The first temple is Solomon's temple, the second one is Herod's temple, which was destroyed in 70CE by the romans. centuries later, the Muslim caliphates built the Al Aqsa mosque which was built on top of our temple mount. Today, the west wall is all we have left of this historic holy place.

The name "Palestine" was given to the land of Israel by roman colonisers who exiled most of us from the land of Israel, took many of us slaves, and scattered everyone else through western Europe (Some moved further east).

Now about the Nazis = Zionist argument. The Nazis originally made a deal with German Zionist Jews (The Haavara agreement) to bring about a mass migration from Germany to Israel, it should be mentioned that this was because Hitler and the Nazis wanted a Jew-Free Europe, not because the Nazis supported Zionism.

This deal was criticized by both Nazis and Zionists. Zionist criticised it because it made a deal with the devil, and the Nazis criticised it because it went against their philosophy.

The Nazis were extremely antizionist, the belief that they were Zionists is soviet cold war propaganda to demonise the state of Israel and the broader Jewish community. They believed that Jews were biologically incapable of running their own state and were too inferior. Hitler had a "Palestinian" friend (Amin al-Husseini) who campaigned in Berlin, fought for a Palestinian state, and even CONTRIBUTED TO THE HOLOCAUST. They also lead a boycott of Jewish businesses in "Palestine".

So, you're wrong. So very very wrong. You can try to lecture me about the history of my own people and religion all you want, but you're wrong.

Please, kindly fuck off and read a history book. Please attend a Synagogue service and learn more about our religion before you come spewing false bullshit about it.

#goyim shut up challenge #jumblr #israel #i stand with israel #goyim #palestinian hypocrisy #antisemitism

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andy-15-07 · 9 months ago

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A Love Unscripted

Summary: Daniel and Y/N, co-stars on a film set, experience an intense connection that quickly blossoms into love. As they navigate their deepening relationship, they find that their off-screen romance becomes the greatest story of their lives.

Paring: Daniel Brühl x reader

Words count: 2907

Daniel Brühl Masterlist | Masterlist

It was a bright, crisp morning in Berlin, and the air buzzed with excitement as the cast and crew gathered for the first day of shooting. This was no ordinary film set—this was the next big project from a critically acclaimed director, and everyone knew it had the potential to be a masterpiece. The title of the film, still under wraps, hinted at a deep, emotional journey that would challenge both the actors and the audience.

Y/N arrived on set with a mix of nerves and excitement, feeling the weight of this opportunity. It was their first major role, and although they had done their fair share of indie films and theater, this was different. The script had resonated deeply with Y/N when they first read it, and they knew this role could be a turning point in their career.

As Y/N stepped out of their trailer, adjusting the costume that already felt like a second skin, they noticed a familiar face on set. Daniel Brühl was speaking with the director, his warm, easygoing smile lighting up his features. Y/N had always admired Daniel’s work from afar—the subtlety of his performances, the way he could convey so much with just a glance or a slight change in his expression. Meeting him in person, however, was something they hadn’t quite prepared for.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N walked over to where Daniel and the director were chatting. As they approached, the director noticed Y/N and smiled broadly. "Ah, Y/N! Perfect timing. Come meet your co-star."

Daniel turned towards Y/N, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. His eyes met Y/N’s, and there was an unmistakable spark—a connection that went beyond the usual pleasantries of a first meeting. Daniel’s smile widened, and there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put Y/N at ease.

“Hi, I’m Daniel,” he said, extending his hand.

“Y/N,” they replied, shaking his hand. The touch lingered a bit longer than necessary, and Y/N felt a strange but pleasant flutter in their chest.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Daniel continued, his voice smooth and genuinely kind. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”

Y/N chuckled, trying to ignore the heat rising to their cheeks. “Well, I hope I can live up to the hype.”

“I’m sure you will,” Daniel said, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s. “I watched some of your previous work. You’re really talented.”

Y/N was caught off guard by the compliment. “Thank you, that means a lot coming from you.”

Before the conversation could continue, the director clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s get started! We’ve got a lot to cover today.”

The first scene they were shooting was a pivotal one—an intense confrontation between Y/N and Daniel’s characters. The air was charged with anticipation as the crew set up the shot. Y/N took their position, trying to focus on the character’s emotions, but found themselves distracted by the fact that Daniel was standing so close.

Daniel, sensing Y/N’s nervousness, leaned in slightly and whispered, “Don’t worry, just be in the moment. We’ve got this.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath. As soon as the director called “Action,” the transformation was instantaneous. Y/N slipped into their character’s mindset, and the world around them faded away. The scene required them to confront Daniel’s character, emotions running high as they delivered their lines with a mixture of anger and vulnerability.

Daniel was incredible. His performance was raw, powerful, and it drew Y/N in, making it easy to react naturally. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and it crackled with intensity, as if they had known each other for years instead of mere minutes.

When the director finally called “Cut,” there was a moment of stunned silence on set. Y/N blinked, coming back to reality, and noticed that the crew was staring at them with something like awe. The director had a wide grin on his face.

“That was fantastic!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “The chemistry between you two is electric. If we can capture even a fraction of that in every scene, we’ve got something truly special here.”

Y/N glanced over at Daniel, who was still looking at them with that same warm smile. “You were amazing,” he said softly, his eyes full of admiration.

“So were you,” Y/N replied, feeling the flutter in their chest return.

As the day progressed, the initial nerves melted away. Daniel and Y/N fell into an easy rhythm, their connection both on and off-screen growing stronger with each take. Between scenes, they would chat about everything from their favorite films to their experiences growing up in different parts of the world. They discovered they had a lot in common—a shared love for classic cinema, a penchant for exploring new places, and a mutual respect for the craft of acting.

During lunch, they found themselves sitting together, away from the rest of the cast and crew. It wasn’t intentional, but it felt natural, as if they had always gravitated toward each other. As they ate, their conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and the occasional teasing remark.

“You know,” Daniel said, leaning back in his chair, “I didn’t expect to meet someone who’s as passionate about cinema as I am.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a warmth in their heart. “I could say the same about you. It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.”

Daniel nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s rare to find someone who really understands what it’s like to lose yourself in a role, to feel that connection with the character and the story. I can tell you’re someone who does.”

Y/N looked at Daniel, their eyes meeting once again. There was something in his gaze that made their heart skip a beat—an intensity, a depth that went beyond mere attraction. It was as if they were seeing each other, truly seeing each other, for the first time.

“I feel the same way,” Y/N admitted, their voice soft but sincere. “There’s something about this project, about working with you… It feels different. Special.”

Daniel’s gaze softened, and he reached across the table, his hand gently covering Y/N’s. “I feel it too,” he said quietly. “I think this could be the start of something really wonderful.”

The rest of the shoot passed in a blur. Days turned into weeks, and with each passing moment, Y/N and Daniel’s connection deepened. Their scenes together were electric, filled with a chemistry that was palpable to everyone on set. Off-camera, they spent more and more time together, often finding excuses to stay late after a day of shooting just to talk, to be in each other’s company.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of filming, they decided to take a walk around the city. The night was cool, the streets quiet as they wandered aimlessly, talking about everything and nothing. Daniel seemed more relaxed than usual, his usual charisma softened by the late hour and the intimacy of the moment.

As they walked along the Spree River, the moonlight reflecting off the water, Daniel suddenly stopped. Y/N, who had been in the middle of a story, turned to look at him in surprise.

“Is everything okay?” Y/N asked, concerned.

Daniel smiled, a little sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s just… I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

Y/N’s heart began to race, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation bubbling up inside them. “What is it?”

Daniel hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

The question caught Y/N off guard. They stared at Daniel, their mind racing. Did they believe in love at first sight? They had always thought it was something that only happened in movies, in the stories they told on screen. But as they looked into Daniel’s eyes, so full of sincerity and something deeper, something that felt a lot like love, they found themselves reconsidering.

“I’m not sure,” Y/N replied honestly. “But… I think I might be starting to.”

Daniel’s smile widened, and without another word, he took a step closer. The distance between them disappeared as he gently cupped Y/N’s face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring. Y/N’s breath caught in their throat as Daniel leaned in, his lips brushing theirs in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and full of unspoken emotions.

The world seemed to fade away in that moment. There was no film set, no crew, no cameras—just the two of them, standing by the river, lost in each other. The kiss deepened, and Y/N felt a warmth spread through their entire body, a sense of rightness, of inevitability, as if this was exactly where they were meant to be.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other as they shared a quiet moment of connection.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment we met,” Daniel admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled, their heart full. “So have I.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. It was a perfect moment, the kind that Y/N had only ever experienced in the movies they loved so much. But this wasn’t a script, and this wasn’t a role. This was real, and it was happening to them.

As they walked back to their hotel, hand in hand, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like they were living in a dream. But it was better than any dream they could have imagined—because it was real, and it was theirs.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of emotions, both on and off set. Their relationship blossomed quietly, just under the radar of the curious eyes of the cast and crew. Though they kept it professional during filming, it was impossible to hide the subtle glances, the shared smiles, and the way their hands would brush as they passed each other by.

Y/N found themselves falling deeper for Daniel with every passing day. He was kind and considerate, with a sense of humor that caught them off guard and made them laugh when they least expected it. They had never felt this way before, and it scared them as much as it thrilled them. But there was a comfort in Daniel’s presence, a sense of safety that made them feel like everything was going to be okay.

One afternoon, they had a rare day off from shooting, and Daniel suggested they explore the city together. Berlin was full of history and culture, and though Y/N had been there for weeks, they hadn’t had much time to truly experience it.

They spent the day wandering through art galleries and museums, stopping at cafes for coffee and pastries. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how Daniel seemed to know all the best spots, the hidden gems that only locals frequented. He would tell stories about the city’s history, pointing out landmarks and sharing little anecdotes that made Y/N feel like they were getting a private tour from someone who truly loved the place.

As the day turned into evening, they found themselves at a small, cozy restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. The candlelit atmosphere was intimate, and Y/N could feel their heart racing as they sat across from Daniel, the flickering light casting shadows across his handsome features.

“This place is beautiful,” Y/N said, looking around at the warm, inviting decor. “How did you find it?”

Daniel smiled, a little shyly. “I’ve been here a few times. It’s one of my favorite spots in the city. I thought you might like it.”

Y/N reached across the table, taking his hand in theirs. “I love it. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Daniel’s eyes softened, and he squeezed Y/N’s hand gently. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say,” he began, his voice serious.

Y/N felt a flutter of nerves in their stomach. “What is it?”

Daniel hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but… I can’t help the way I feel. From the moment we met, I felt this connection between us, something I’ve never experienced before. I don’t want to scare you off, but I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in their throat, their heart pounding in their chest. They had felt it too, but hearing Daniel say it out loud made it all the more real, all the more intense.

“I feel the same way,” Y/N admitted, their voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been trying to make sense of it, but… I think I’m falling for you too.”

The relief in Daniel’s eyes was palpable, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He stood up from his seat, moving to sit beside Y/N, and pulled them into a gentle embrace. Y/N melted into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against theirs, the steady beat of his heart under their cheek.

For a while, they just sat there, holding each other, letting the world outside fade away. It was as if time had stopped, leaving just the two of them in their own little bubble of happiness. They talked quietly, sharing their hopes and dreams, their fears and insecurities. It was easy to be vulnerable with Daniel, easy to let down the walls they had built around their heart.

As the evening wore on, they decided to head back to the hotel, their hands intertwined as they walked through the quiet streets. The city was alive with the soft hum of nightlife, but Y/N only had eyes for Daniel, who looked at them with such affection that it made their heart ache in the best possible way.

When they reached Y/N’s hotel room, they lingered outside the door, neither of them wanting the night to end. Daniel brushed a strand of hair from Y/N’s face, his touch tender and full of longing.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly, his voice full of emotion.

Y/N nodded, their heart racing. They opened the door, leading Daniel inside, and as soon as it closed behind them, he pulled them into a deep, passionate kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of all the emotions they had been holding back, all the desire and affection that had been building between them since the day they met.

They stumbled toward the bed, their lips never breaking contact, and as they fell into the soft sheets, Y/N knew this was where they were meant to be—wrapped in Daniel’s arms, lost in the feeling of being loved and cherished by someone who saw them for who they truly were.

The night was a blur of whispered words and tender touches, of shared laughter and quiet moments of connection. When they finally drifted off to sleep, tangled up in each other, Y/N felt a peace they had never known before. It was as if all the pieces of their life had finally fallen into place, and they knew, deep in their heart, that this was just the beginning of something truly beautiful.

The next morning, they woke up to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. Daniel was still asleep beside them, his face peaceful and relaxed, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile as they watched him. They had never felt this content, this happy, and they knew they had found something special, something worth holding onto.

As Daniel stirred awake, his eyes meeting Y/N’s with a sleepy smile, they leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Good morning,” Y/N whispered, their voice full of affection.

“Good morning,” Daniel replied, his voice husky with sleep. He pulled Y/N closer, his arms wrapping around them as if he never wanted to let go. “Last night was… incredible.”

“It was,” Y/N agreed, their heart swelling with emotion. “I don’t want this to end.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Daniel said, his gaze serious. “I meant what I said last night. I’m falling for you, Y/N, and I want to see where this goes. I don’t care about the logistics or what anyone else thinks. All I know is that I want to be with you.”

Tears pricked at Y/N’s eyes as they looked into Daniel’s sincere gaze. They had been so afraid to let themselves fall, but now that they had, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“I want that too,” Y/N said, their voice choked with emotion. “I want to be with you, Daniel.”

He smiled, a smile so full of warmth and love that it took Y/N’s breath away. “Then let’s make it happen. We’ll figure it out together.”

And so, they did. As the film production continued, so did their relationship, growing stronger with each passing day. They faced the challenges together, navigating the complexities of a public relationship in a private world, but nothing could diminish the connection they shared.

When the film finally wrapped, and it was time to say goodbye to the set and the characters they had brought to life, Y/N and Daniel knew that this was just the beginning of their story. They had found something real, something lasting, and as they walked hand in hand into the next chapter of their lives, they knew they were ready to face whatever came next, as long as they were together.

In the end, it wasn’t just a love story scripted for the screen—it was their love story, one that would continue to unfold in ways they could never have imagined. And as they looked into each other’s eyes, they knew that this was the greatest role they would ever play, not as actors, but as themselves, deeply in love and ready to take on the world, side by side.

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greatballsoffire44 · 15 days ago

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Another game?

A icemav one shot

——warnings none besides mild kissing—-this is my first one shot—

The sun was shining the sand was hot the sky was a clear blue and pete and Nick had just arrived to the volleyball court where iceman and slider were waiting for them.

but Pete Mitchell was trying not to keep his eye on what was hotter, Tom kazansky aka iceman shirtless and looking as gorgeous as a Greek god

How was he not to stare?

“You’re staring man.” Nick said with chuckle as he put on another coat of sunscreen on his skin and grabbed Pete’s arm and put sunscreen on him like he was a little kid

“Hey! Cut it out”pete exclaimed and fought against the man’s grip

“I swear putting sunscreen on Bradley is easier now be still.” nick said as he finished putting a layer of sunscreen onto Pete’s shoulders

“And why don’t you just talk to tom?”

Pete scoffed “not that easy goose what If he isn’t gay and he threatens to tell the navy?”

Nick rolls his eyes “Pete we have all seen him checking you out and same goes for you. It’s exhausting watching you two”

The game soon began with ice spinning the ball on his fingers with a smirk then it was game on

Damn he’s so cool! Pete thought as he served the ball and earned a soft smile from tom.

“Hey goose why the hell are you dressed like that?” Asked slider as they took a break from the game

“Because unlike you guys I have a wife who made sure I had proper clothes to go to the beach in” Nick said as he strikes a pose and flipped him off.

“You look like a tourist mother goose” tom said with a laugh that Pete wanted to hear again.

“Yeah yeah Mr sweatpants” Nick said

Pete laughed and threw the ball at slider and said “leave him alone”

Soon the game went on and Pete and Nick were the winners

“Another game Mav?” Nick asked

Pete thought about it he had a date but did he?

He had only wanted to prove himself right to Charlie and his stunt at the O club was for mostly Tom’s attention.

And because if anyone knew Pete well enough his eyes weren’t on her at all and she took it as affection

“Sure why not but this time I’m teaming with ice” Pete said

He stands next to ice with soft grin

“Hey iceman” he said flashing him on of his bright smiles. And tom smiled at him as the game began.

Soon the sun was setting and the games were over and the four men were at a beachside table at an in and out burger restaurant

“You and pete cheated I don’t know how but you did!” Slider said as he shoveled another handful of fries into his mouth.

“We did not! And chew with your mouth closed!” Tom said with his arm around Pete gently

As the sun was setting Nick took slider home and pete stared at tom

And as if on cue “take my breath away” by Berlin played over the speakers faintly

“I had a great time today tom” pete said rubbing his neck awkwardly not sure how to say what he wanted to say

“I did too pete it’s nice to know that you aren’t a total asshole” tom said with a grin so bright

then his eyes got soft as he took Pete’s hand

“Who said we have to end our night here?”

“Are you implying something?” Pete said softly and held his hand in Tom’s

“I might want to take a shower first”

“Well the one at my place works just fine” tom said then smirked

and Pete laughed “I guess I’ll find out”

Both men walked hand in hand to the parking lot where Tom’s car and to Mav’s motorcycle were.

Pete stepped close to tom stopping his hand from touching his car turning him to face him and he leaned in and kissed him gently both men lost in each other’s embrace and soon both men left the parking lot fallowing each other back on to the base.

The end.

#icemav #fanfic #please be nice #iceman x maverick #top gun 1986

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cas-backwards-tie · 1 year ago

Text

Wonderstruck

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Ex!Reader

Summary: Simon Riley finally takes it upon himself to check up on his childhood best friend and ex lover. He's been torturing himself reminiscing on your relationship and what went wrong for years now. Little does he know... you're in the same boat. Having seen someone today you swore was Simon on your way to work, you too, reflect on the past.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Stalking(?),

Mentions of: Drinking, Smoking, Motorcycle Riding

A/N: I don't know why but I constantly am getting inspired by certain songs, or am reminded of certain characters, and all the lyrics were just screaming childhood best friends to estranged lovers, right person wrong time Simon Riley. Nevertheless, if you'd love to listen to some versions of the song which inspired me, here we are! Line divider credit: @saradika-graphics and I'd also love to thank @penelopepine for helping me with the ending <3

He knew it was a bad idea as soon as it'd crossed his mind, yet somehow he couldn't rid himself of it time and time again. That's how he found himself here; watching you cross the street, he can't help but notice the vintage band t-shirt you have on, frayed at the edges with the little strings of the hem coming undone that you've refused to cut off. In you hands you clutch a new phone, no doubt an upgrade from the last one he'd seen you with- though it's been a while.

As you mindlessly tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he can't help the way his insides churn. You were always effortlessly beautiful; you never had to try for anything. Even now, the way you can walk across the busy cobblestone side streets of London in high heels without seemingly second-guessing yourself, body language still poised on guard and ready in case anyone tries anything, just like he'd taught you.

It's clear from your outfit and the lipstick you’re donning that you're attempting to sway the officials at work. Maybe trying for that promotion you’d always been talking about, but never had the gumption to make today the day. What’s different about today, he wonders. You'd always been a go-getter, and truthfully, it was something Simon admired about you. Even in the moments where he'd resented it the most, the constant pestering and prodding at him in an attempt to get him to move and drag him out of the holes his dug himself into...

Where would he be now if only he listened?

What if you knew better?

He couldn't deny that the thoughts kept him up at night while he was away. Though, admittedly, more often than not it was the string of random memories that he’d get glimpses of during the day. It’d always be at the worst times, too. Two weeks ago in Berlin he’d been clapping Kyle on the back, hoping he’ll get it together as he stumbled out the pub. While Soap had the camaraderie to slug half his mate’s weight over his broad shoulders, Simon found himself unable to help as his eyes were drawn in by a couple a few paces down the block.

“Bollocks!” He’d shouted out in frustration. Double-checking himself, he didn’t have a spare cap on him, and he knew he sure as hell didn’t bring an umbrella on your little last minute ‘trip’. Not that he’d really call walking down to the local Tesco for snacks late one summer evening a trip. ‘It’ll be an adventure! Just think of it like that.’ You’d persuaded him.

“What? Are you going to melt?” He hears you joke. As his brown eyes land on your face when you turn to meet his gaze, a few steps ahead of him down the road, he can’t help the smile that breaks out across his lips upon your laughter. Sure, you may both be a little drunk after spending the evening in and having a drink or two. But it doesn’t change the way he feels about you, if anything, it makes him even more keenly aware of the way you affect him.

“Maybe. Who knows?” He teases in responses, tugging his jacket up and over his head to shield himself from the cool summer rain. Despite the time, now he’ll most likely need a shower when you get home. As he jogs to catch up and bring you under his little makeshift cocoon, you do the unexpected.

It was you, of course… he should’ve known better, always testing him, pushing him. With a gentle drop of the plastic bag full of snacks upon the side of the road you’d been strolling down, he watches as you run into the empty street. The streetlights illuminate you in a hazy orangey-yellow light as you begin to spin and twirl, dancing in the street.

With a shake of his head, he’s left stunned once again by the vast difference of your personalities. Your jeans and t-shirt are starting to get damp and discolored, and there’s a taunting, displeased remark sitting on his tongue just waiting to be made. It’s the utter joyous smile on your face as you tip your head back and relinquish yourself to your fate that leaves him wonderstruck, he thinks.

“Come on, Simon!” You beckon, finally meeting his gaze once again with that familiar carefree, hopeful look behind your irises. With an outstretched hand, he knows he can’t deny you this… and really, there’s something inside him that tells him he doesn’t want to, either.

“It’s her, innit?” He hears his Captain’s voice call over his shoulder. Pulled from his memories, Simon dismisses Price with a nonchalant grunt. As the old man tries to place a hand on his shoulder he dodges it, realizing he’s been watching the couple for longer than he’d thought. With Soap and Gaz almost to the end of the block, Simon sighs before shrugging his shoulders to right his jacket and head off in their direction for backup.

That was a time when your playfulness been more easily taken and accepted without question. No fighting, no push back, resentments… maybe that was it: he’d stopped going with the flow. He’d stopped accepting the punches and started dodging and weaving your advances at fixing things and picking up where he left you. Because while it’s too late now, he’s finally realized it for what it is: he left you in the dark, he’s the one who pushed you away, closed himself off.

That night he’d curled up in the temporary bed he’d been assigned, more memories continued to consume him. The way you’d effortlessly ease his worries on nights he’d come home stressed, feathers ruffled from whatever petty drama went on during the day. Whether it was something the guys said that stuck with him, or something he couldn’t get out of his mind when he came back from deployment. Your kisses always seemed to be the cure, your love… or maybe it was just… you.

“You know furrowing your brows like that will cause wrinkles,” you inform him, reaching out to run gentle fingers over his bunched skin.

A grunt of acknowledgment leaves his lips. “More for me to worry about, hm?” While it’s all he says, his eyes are searching over your composure.

“No,” it leaves your lips without thought, “just something to think about, be mindful of. If you’re not upset, then why furrow them?” Voice quiet in the moonlit apartment, your fingers smooth out his brows gently as you admire him. “I read something the other day about how it’s possible our body informs our mental state. If you’re tensing all the time, it won’t help your stress, Si.”

He simply hums in response, doing nothing to stop you as you ghost your lips over his for a moment before planting a loving chaste kiss to his. While big and wide warm hands find the exposed bit of skin between the hem of your sleeping pants and the shirt you wear, it’s the unexpected cool sensation that elicits a muffled gasp. Your much smaller hands are sneaking up underneath his sweatshirt to explore his abdomen, caressing him like he were made of soft silk. Your lips meet again for a chaste kiss.

Then it’s turning into something more; you have to take it slow, your lips dancing against one another, his hand rubbing your back to let you know it’s alright. As you begin to run out of breath, it’s only when you pull away, lashes fluttering against his skin that you ask him. “You know I’d love you even with wrinkles, right?”

Taken aback, he can’t help but stare. Unsure how to respond or what to do, his lips part in search of words. “Is that so?” He finally questions, hand giving your side a soft squeeze.

“My favorite boy… I love you to the moon and back… scars and all. I always have, and I always will, Simon,” you whisper, ghosting his lips again before planting one on him, “I just hope you know that.”

And at the time, he swore he did. It’s odd, really, and he wouldn’t lie to himself about it either. Simon tried dating after you, he tried hooking up, he tried it all… but it never felt right. As many times as he replays the memory, he can never get past the feeling of home. With you, it felt like home. You never made him feel expendable, or worry of the abandonment he knew would inevitably come.

For years afterward he blamed you, he saw it as your fault that you left, you abandoned him… when, maybe, really it’s finally time he admits it was him. He made it a self-fulfilling prophecy, and there was nothing you could do.

It's on your way home from work that you see them; while waiting for the bus, there's a playground in the park a few meters away. Really, the idea that human nature is predictable is always laughable at first, but only after watching people and stepping back to become an observer you've noticed from time to time that... it's more than true. Even from a distance, the children in the park look happy... but that's not what catches your eye. There's a blonde boy, and a girl, much like yourself when you were younger, playing what you can only assume is something halfway between hide and seek and tag, considering the playground offers more space and obstacles than hiding spots.

Perhaps it's the joyous looks on their little faces, or the way they unabashedly play, carefree and unaware of the adult worries and burdens the world hangs above their heads, just waiting any day to drop upon their shoulders unexpectedly. However, you can't help but reminisce on the ways you'd spent your childhood playing games much like the one the children are playing in the distance with a boy, very similar to the one before you, loving life, content, happy, simply aspiring to be the best at finding your ultimate hiding spot.

The soft squeak of the wheels coming to a halt before you and the mechanical release of air as the doors open brings your attention back to the present. Before you know it, you're on the bus, unconsciously taking a seat along the windows, hoping, just maybe you'll catch a glimpse of them as the bus drives down the road down its route. Though as you pass, the sun is beginning to set in the distance, the children departing the playground their separate ways as dusk begins to take its toll and curfew sets in place. The whole time you'd been focused on yourself, it's entirely possible that your own boy wound up beating you at your own game, finding the best spot and hiding himself away from the rest of the world.

Maybe it's the fact that you could've sworn you'd seen someone that looked almost identical to Simon on your way to work this morning, but memories continue to plague your mind for the first time in months. All the weekends he'd spent over at your house doing aimlessly silly things to fill your time, from science projects, to playing 'warrior' outside, you never felt more alive than the time you two spent together.

"I'll keep ya safe, yeah? Nothin' to worry about," Simon insists, gently guiding you to the side of the vehicle. Despite going out with your friends to the city for dinner, you both were sober. It should be fine, it would be. You'd been with him a million times... how different could it be? He'd run it by you as many times as you'd asked.

You swear it's not a good idea, but you trust him to the ends of the Earth. With a look over your shoulder, his brown eyes are steady, not uncertain in his unwavering gaze as he nods in assurance. Swinging a leg over the seat, you're in front this time. Helmets in place, hands on the clutch and brakes, you make eye contact with Simon once more before he flicks both your visors down. "Ready?" You ask him.

"More than ready, Love," he quips. With a quick shove to the kickstand, balance (with Simon's help of course), and a rev of the engine, you start the motorcycle off slowly. Gloved hands around your waist, he gives you a gentle squeeze.

He was always pushing you out of your comfort zone, that one. It was the first time you'd driven his motorcycle, and while it'd been scary and daunting for the first fifteen minutes, you eventually got used to it and it blossomed into something freeing. You understood then why he likes it, and you'd never been more grateful for someone pushing you out of your bubble. While flashes of all the kisses, caresses, and intimate moments between the two of you start to effervesce, you force yourself to remember the last time you'd seen him.

With a lingering hug, you're hesitant to let him go. Even if you know it's necessary, it's still hard... it always has been. "You'll let me know when you get in, right?" You ask, searching his eyes. They stand out from the black warpaint, his uniform always made him look handsome, even if you couldn't imagine how intimidating seeing his actual attire would be in his enemies position.

A dismissive and irritated grunt meets your ears as he shrugs your hands off. He'd packed quickly, something he's been doing more recently; taking more and more jobs, you've begun worrying for his health, not that he'd talk about it, of course. "If I 'ave time."

While you weren't able to get all the details on this excursion, you did manage to get that it was essentially a 'clean-up' for him. He had to go in and make sure that the hostages they'd had a lead on were all rescued and no one was left behind, no assailants or informants lingering or hiding. You've known that his job is hard on him. Losing people can't be easy, especially when you feel like you could've done things differently and changed the ending to their stories. Yet, you also know that throwing yourself into work the way he's been doing without talking to anyone, simply managing to pass debrief counseling by whatever meter their measuring is... not working. Not anymore, at least.

"You're running from this! You won't even answ-" you shout, gesticulating as you do everything in your power to keep the anger and worry that's tightly wound wrapped up in your gut under control, not to let anymore of it seep out than already has.

"An' you're one to talk?! You don't get to interrogate me," he argues, rounding the couch to get closer. The dark circles under his eyes scream volumes, even if he's unwilling to acknowledge whatever's going on for him. "I deal with that enough in my line o' work. Don't-"

"Simon," you say, tone holding that familiar warning tone.

You'd gotten home safely and were able to change and make something to eat. The feelings haven't left the cavity of your chest, still lingering there, the way he always does. He may be 'Ghost' on the field, yet he still haunts your memories, always making you question whether or not you did the right thing. What if only you'd done more? What if you hadn't pushed him so much? It wasn't always in a bad way, either, in fact, most of the time you'd find yourself chuckling randomly at some inside joke only the two of you share, or something he'd find funny. The stolen sweaters and hoodies you know for a fact long ago washed away his scent. Even if you swear sometimes that you can smell the faint odor of cigarettes he used to smoke. In the city when you're out with the girls you'd find yourself fondly inhaling the smell whenever a stranger would be smoking one nearby.

You'd cursed him: Simon Riley. Yet, the aching inside you he left often made you feel like he there's some sense of closure he never fully gave you. The SAS would tell you that he'd get your letters, even if you stopped writing years ago a little while after the split. You never got a response, and you never really expected one. Simon never really was one for letter writing. It was the only way you felt like you could get that closure, that part of your life done with. Ultimately, it did help you move on in some way.

A sigh tumbles past your lips as you change the channel on the television, unsure what you really feel like watching. A reality comedy show is on, something of a local prank show. It wasn't the best show, really, but it's one you used to watch a lot as a kid, and thus, another reminder of him. This one makes you smile, nonetheless. It's a good memory; nostalgia envelopes you in the way that makes you crave times that felt easier. Just when you wrap yourself in your fuzzy blanket, there's a soft rapt at the door.

Heart accelerating, eyes widening slightly, you slowly rise from the couch. The television volume isn't on loud, and while there may be light coming from it to inform a stranger you're home, that isn't enough to say that you're alone. With slow and cautious steps, you approach the door, careful to check the window near the door from a vantage point you're unseen. It's a man in a black hoodie. Panic sets in and you turn to skillfully head back toward the couch in search of your phone with quiet and quick steps. That's when it strikes you.

With all pretenses abandoned, you rush to the door and fling it open, lips parted in shock and awe. "Simon?" Searching and attempting to scan the partially shielded face, you're able to see tufts of blonde hair lit from the porch light.

"I know you've no reason to-" he starts, hands removing themselves from his hoodie's pocket, "but please let me come in and explain."

"You came back," you whisper. It's more for yourself than him, and whether it's out of bewilderment, intuitive knowing, or a premonition; you were right.

As he takes a step forward and reaches out for you with shaky hands produced from the familiar black pocket of his hoodie, you don't retract. Slow and tentative movements on both ends, he grabs ahold of one hand, thumb consciously skirting back and forth repeatedly in a form of grounding and seeking comfort. "You were right," his deep voice rasps.

Your hand cautiously seeks his cheek beneath the shield of his hood. Fully expecting to meet the spandex material of his balaclava, you're surprised by the warmth of his skin underneath your gentle touch. Wrist pushing against the cotton hood, it gives way, revealing his face. Searching his deep brown eyes for any sign he's genuine... you're met with truth.

With a weak nod you turn, leaving the door to shut softly behind the two of you.

~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #my writing #song fic #taylor swift #cardigan #simon riley x reader angst #angst #angst with a happy ending #simon ghost riley x ex!reader #simon riley x ex!reader #simon riley x cbf!reader #simon ghost riley x cbf!reader #biker!simon riley #song fics

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