#yeah i put Grace and Simon on there i hate him but there is so much to unpack...

[trauma-express]

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ Daddy kink, spanking, anal fingering, cum play, whiff of breeding kink.

Days turn into a week, and then two, but you were fine. 

Everything was fine. 

Until you got your period. 

You woke up to blood in the sheets a day early, underwear and pajama bottoms ruined, the only saving grace being that the mattress didn’t stain. The cramps kept you in the shower longer than normal, and you were late to work because of it. Everything went downhill from there. 

You drank more coffee because you were behind, you skipped breakfast, you didn’t touch a glass of water until well after dark. You stayed up well past bedtime, your meals became inconsistent, you essentially forgot your glasses existed.

Going off the rails was only supposed to be one day, but then you couldn’t get back on the tracks.

It all fell apart. 

You unraveled at your already frayed seams. 

You were bad. 

Your phone is buried in the mess of your bed. 

When it starts vibrating, you have to dig through your blankets to find the sweater it’s in, shoved in the pocket haphazardly after you collapsed, kicked off your shoes and crawled into the middle, eyes already half closed. 

It’s strange how your apartment doesn’t feel quite like home anymore- 

but you don’t deserve to go back. 

A blocked number flashes across the screen of your phone, and you answer it with fumbling fingers. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi baby.”  You clap your hand over your mouth. The rush of emotion is too much, happiness building in the back of your throat as a sob, followed by anxiety that sticks like sludge in your mind. 

“H-hi daddy.” You don’t deserve to say it, guilt curdling in your stomach when it comes out. It feels hopeless, like you’ve ruined it all, and you have no control, sure he can hear everything in your voice.

You don’t know what to say to fix it, you don’t know how to make it better. You don’t deserve him, or this. 

Awful, noxious thoughts bubble to the surface, trying to spill out of your mouth and drown you. Drown him. Drag you both down.

“Hey sweet girl,” he coos, deep rumble contrasted by a lot of background noise, and it’s almost able to quiet the chaos in your head. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m… um, I’m good.” Shut up. Change the subject. “How are you?” 

“I’m okay. We’re about done here, and then I’ll be home.” Your excitement burns to ash in the face of dread. You don’t want him to know, to see you, to realize how far you fell. You didn’t follow your rules. You let him down. 

“T-that’s… great.” An engine is the only noise on the other end of the line for a minute until it starts to fade, and a door slams. 

Then there’s only his voice. Pitched smooth and soothing. “Are you okay?” 

“Me? Yeah! I’m fine.” The fake cheer makes you wince. 

“Are you lying to me?” You swallow the swell of sadness, the threat of a breakdown hovering on the edge. 

“N-no.” There’s muffled conversation somewhere on his end of the line, and he sighs. 

“I have to go, but I’ll be home soon, okay? Be good for me.” Your heart is pounding so hard the blood in your veins is throbbing, ribs caving in on themselves, your lungs struggling to expand. 

“Okay.” 

When the line goes dead, you burst into tears. 

His house is hollow.

He’s talked to you twice since landing, and you didn’t mention being at your apartment a single time, though your absence is no surprise. There was a pitch to your voice, one he recognized from before, when you were unsure and lost, stumbling towards him on shaky legs.

He’s not angry, but he is unsettled. He hates uncertainty, it chafes at his control, thoughts of you alone in your apartment rubbing him raw, and a mountain of blame slowly settles on his shoulders as he grapples with the consequences of both his choices, and yours. 

He knows what the rest of the night holds.

He’ll need to take you apart and put you back together.

He only has to knock once for you to come to the door. 

You fling yourself into his arms, refusing to let go as he shuffles you inside, bringing you down onto the couch, halfway on his lap. You’re rigid, intentionally looking away, gaze focused on your lap where your fingers are threaded together, head bowed like you’re praying, seeking absolution. It’s a heavy weight you’re carrying, one he will wring from your bones blow by blow. 

“Let me see your eyes.” He lifts your chin, finds what he anticipated in them, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. “Oh, baby.” Rattling against him, you hold on so tight like you want to crawl inside his body. 

“I missed y-you, I just… I missed you.” 

“I missed you too sweetheart.” You find your way back into his arms, pressing your face to his chest. “It’s okay,” he murmurs into the top of your head as he rocks you, soothes the shaking, the raspy draw of each breath. “It’s okay, I’m here.” It only takes a little bit for you to come back to yourself, and as you do, your fingers brush against the gauze on his arm. You freeze. 

“You… you’re hurt. You’re hurt? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. It’s nothing, just some stitches, nothin’ to worry over.” 

“Just some stitches?” You squeak, eyes wide with alarm, concern tightening their corners. “Wh-what happened?” What didn’t happen. He’d never tell you, he can’t, but your worry burns a flame inside a deeply shuttered piece of his heart, and he kisses your forehead. 

“I’m okay sweet girl. I promise.” He waits a beat, giving you silence, hoping you’ll come forward with it once you find your words, but when there’s nothing, he knows he’ll be pulling it out. Rip the bandaid off then. “Are you goin’ to tell me what’s going on?” You shake your head and stare at the floor. 

“I can’t… I- I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” He knows, of course, but he needs to hear you say it. 

“I… didn’t follow my rules.” He folds his hand over yours, maintaining the connection while carving out your space. You’re a tangled, jumbled snare right now, and if he’s going to fix it, he needs you to take the first step. 

“Tell me what happened.” Your shoulders slump-

 and then you start. 

He makes sure you’re physically okay first. 

You’ve managed to eat dinner tonight and drink some water, which is all he really needs right now. Food, and water. The rest, the mental and emotional strife, the pain, he’ll mend, but punishments don’t sit well on an empty stomach. 

He takes his time. Leaves you on the bed while he showers, face down with your arms bound behind your back, stripped bare. If you were in his bed, he’d have each ankle tied to a corner, fully opening you up, teasing and toying with you, but this is adequate, and it can’t wait. 

The mess in your mind is dark, and dangerous. It’s consuming you, hurting you, and he has to draw it out, suck the poison from the wound. 

“Do you know why you’re being punished?” 

“I w-was bad.” He pauses. He went over this earlier, but it’s a tough one to stick. 

“No, baby.” 

“But… I didn’t follow my rules. You t-trusted me and I-I let you down…” He squeezes the fat of your ass cheek, just hard enough to make you gasp, interrupting your train of thought. 

“You didn’t let me down. You’ll always be my good girl, even when you make mistakes, and I know you didn’t break your rules on purpose, did you?” 

“No daddy, I didn’t. I swear.” He settles on the bed, pins you down with his weight, holding steady as you squirm. 

“I know.” You hiss when he lightly scratches his thumb nail across your skin. “But my girl has to take care of herself, and even after a bad day, she has to keep trying. Do you understand?” You nod. “Words please.” 

“Yes daddy, I understand.” This is only part of it. The festering guilt inside you needs to be released, you need your exoneration.

“Daddy has to make sure you understand how important your rules are, because you’re his priority, and you need to be safe and happy and healthy, right?” 

“Right.” Your brow furrows with concentration, preparing for what comes next. 

We’ll do thirty, and you’ll count each one.” You choke on your breath. The most he’s given you is fifteen and this will be double the sting. He can practically taste your fear. “Do you trust me to take care of you?” Your answer is immediate. 

“I do.” 

“Good,” he swings, your ass ripples on impact, and you grunt. 

“One.” 

“Louder sweetheart.” The second one hits the same spot as the first, and you lift your chin, trying to project your voice. 

“Two!” 

“Good girl.” He brings the third one down on the other side and then starts alternating, two on top of two.

By the time he gets to twenty one, you’re right where he needs you. 

Sobbing. Desperate. Wrists writhing against the bind of his belt. 

“Tell me why you weren’t home when I got back tonight.” He allows a small reprieve as he waits for your answer, arcing over your spine to kiss between your shoulder blades, the fabric of his sweatpants brushing across your aching skin. You whine in protest, feet kicking, trying to absorb the shock of a new sensation, a different kind of pain, and then you jerk when he presses the length of his erection in the cleft of your ass, cock heavy from watching you cry and shriek under his touch. 

“I d-don’t know.” He peppers you with four blows, back to back, forcing you to catch up with your count, the first two coming out as an agonized moan. 

“Tell me.” He pulls back for the next, but you stop him with a panicked bleat. 

“I didn’t deserve it!” There it is. “You trusted me… and I didn’t do it, I didn’t follow my rules. I’m sorry, I’m so- so- sorry.” You sob, spitting between your teeth, barely getting enough air. 

“Breathe. Take your time baby, slow, deep breaths,” he folds his hands over your diaphragm with loose pressure, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin as he calms you. “That’s it, you’ve got it.” You’re so close now. “You’re doin’ so well. Can you tell me the rest?” 

 “I felt guilty, like I shouldn’t be there, like I… I couldn’t call you daddy.” Good fucking girl. 

“Thank you for telling me.” He kneads the now raw skin of your ass cheeks, and you jerk, trying to thrash away from the burn. “I know it’s hard to talk about how you’re feeling sometimes, and I’m very proud of you.” 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry daddy, I’m sorry,” your tears are different now, they come just as fast, but they’re born from a release, a dam overflowing with all of your pain and guilt. A river running free.

“I know. Five more, you can do it. You’re almost there.” And all will be forgiven. 

You scream them out, and it’s over, but you can’t stop. You cry into the mattress, inconsolable as pets you, rubs your back, telling you again and again how good you are, how proud he is, how happy you make him, how important you are. You’re not bad baby, you’re perfect, you’re precious, you’re mine. 

He repeats it as many times as needed so you feel it, let it sink in and fill those gaps, the ones your suffering left behind. 

Almost done. 

He hasn’t moved, still on top of you, marveling as your hips twitch and press downward, movement revealing a small wet spot on the sheets. His cock throbs.

“Look forward,” he tugs his sweatpants down to his thighs and strokes himself, squeezing from base to tip. The element of not knowing, not being able to see puts you on edge, but you trust him. You listen. “Stay nice and still,” it’s going to sting, pull more tears from your heart, and each one belongs to him. “Fuck, baby. Your daddy’s good girl aren’t you? Took your spanking so well,” You moan, grinding against the mattress desperately. “Nice and still sweet girl, you can do it,” he holds you down by your wrists, pressing them into the small of your back. There’s no endurance in this, no long game as he comes, painting your cheeks with it, milky white cum covering your skin as he empties his balls all over you, your shocked gasp music to his ears. It turns into a hiss and then a whimper as he smears it around, somewhat in mourning as he thinks about where it should be. 

Though- 

He unties you. “Keeping looking forward sweetheart. Can you wiggle your fingers for me?” Trembling, they uncurl, flicking back and forth until he’s satisfied. “Anything hurt? Feel numb?” You shake your head, sniffling. “Words.” 

“No daddy.” He tugs on your wrists gently, guiding them to your cheeks. 

“Hold yourself open baby,” Your fingers slide through his cum. 

“L-like this?” 

“Just like that.” You’re shaking, from the spanking, from your emotional release, from the uncertainty of this situation. You’ll need a lot of care tonight and tomorrow, hours and hours of reassurance, focused attention, physical touch. He yearns for it.

“What… did you- did you, uh-” You’re so fucking precious. 

“Come all over your ass?” He scoops up a dripping pearl and drags it to the tight ring between your cheeks. “Yeah sweetheart, an’ now I’m going to put it inside you.” 

“Inside me?” You squeak, instinctively turning your head to watch him from the corner of your eye, alarmed. Shocked. He chuckles.

“Do you want to watch daddy push his cum into your ass?” 

“Oh god,” you groan, immediately tensing, still holding on but unable to thwart your involuntary response. The animal in his head tells him it’s a waste. It should be in your pussy, fucked deep past your cervix and into your womb. 

You’re not ready. You can barely take his fingers, let alone his cock. 

And you’re certainly not ready for a baby, though maybe he’ll give you one before he’s an old man. 

“D-daddy, I… I’ve never… no one’s ever, um...” The pad of his finger gently presses, swirling cum across your hole as you shiver. 

“I know, you're okay. Push out,” he coaches, “good girl, here you go,” he barely breaches the ring, but you jolt just as he expected, trying to wriggle away. 

“Ow!” Jesus. He’s hard again, head of his cock already leaking where it sits on your thigh. “Oh- Oh my god.” It’s not pained, or uncomfortable, but moaned. You like it. He gives you more, sinking into you, stretching you around to his second knuckle. 

“That’s it.” His control is a tether, a hook. It keeps him grounded, prevents him from tearing into you even as he keeps putting more and more of himself inside you, so tempted to stretch you with another finger so he can fit the tip of his cock there instead. Slow. Steady. That’s what will win this race. 

He pulls and tells you not to move as he goes to the bathroom to wash his hands, tucking himself up into the waistband of his sweatpants. 

His cum is dribbling out of you, falling in drips down to your pussy and the sheets. He tries to memorize it, burn it into his brain, indulge in it for one more second before he eases you out of the position, rolls you onto your side.

It’s time for the things that really matter. 

Taking care of you. Holding you. Getting you in the shower and then rubbing cream into your skin, feeding you, hydrating you, putting you to bed in his arms. You’re far past ready, eyes glazed over, lips parted, bliss smoothing out the furrow of your brow. The only thing missing is making you come, but you won’t get an orgasm tonight, not with the headspace you’re in. He’ll have to save it for tomorrow. 

“Mmph,” It’s not quite English, or anything, but he understands the sentiment and takes your hand in his, kneeling at the side of the bed, cupping your cheek. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Sleepy.” You find his thumb and suck, lashes fluttering. He lets it linger for a few minutes, massaging your wrists, your elbows.

“Precious girl,” You’re not with it, not aware of anything except his thumb, your comfort, and he takes advantage while he can, brushing his lips across the shell of your ear with a whisper. “Daddy loves you.”

[141wh0re]

"Sugar" Pt 1

Pairings: Simon Ghost Riley x F!141 Reader

Warnings: it's fluffy and cute and sweet.

Summary: Simon finds himself coming to terms with his revelation about the way you make him feel.

AN: Inspired by Sugar by Sleep Token.

Simon was reclined in his full sized bed, arms lazily slung behind his head, and tired, brown eyes haphazardly focused on the ceiling tiles of his private quarters.

Lost in the dark recesses of his mind, Simon cursed the day he was born. The inky-black tendrils curving about the contours of his brain. Each fissure of his brain harbored the trauma.

How he hated this day. The day he was born. The day that he always spent alone. The day no one knew the significance of. And he kept it that way.

Until you, that is.

The bright, blinding ray of sunshine hovering just meters above his face. A warm smile gracing your soft lips. Small crinkles at the corner of your stunning eyes.

Simon was so lost in the depths of his mind, he hadn't even realized you'd come in. His eyes took in your appearance before he slowly sat up, pulling himself to recline against the headboard of his bed.

"Hey, big guy. I didn't mean to interrupt you," you start in your soft, soothing voice.

Behind his balaclava, his eyes ran the entire length of your form, quickly assessing you. His person.

The one person who could pull him out of his dark thoughts.

"'S nothin' important," he waved off dismissively. "Need somethin', doll?" he asked with an assessing look.

"Well, in a moment, I'll require your person." you answered with a playful smirk.

Unbeknownst to you, the corners of his lips threatened to tug into an amused smirk in response to your playful demeanor

"Wha' for?" he inquired with a calculating look.

You bit your lip in anxious excitement, partially from the brilliant plan you and Johnny concocted and partially due at the off chance you'll put a hint of a smile on Simon's lips.

"You trust me, yeah?" you asked, studying his brown orbs.

Simon almost gave a visceral reaction, instead, he steeled himself and gave a subtle nod, earning a bright grin from you.

"Follow me, big guy," you giggled and offered your hand to him, to which he studied momentarily, letting out a half-annoyed sigh before taking your hand.

"Bend down, you're too tall." you teased, earning a grunt of amusement from him while he obliged your request.

Stepping behind him, your hand was rested on his shoulder, a quiet reminder that it was only you.

Simon's thoughts ran wild, trying to decipher what game you were playing with him. He trusted you implicitly... but that doesn't mean you weren't trouble.

Simon was pulled from his thoughts when he saw the black material in your small hands. He was about to protest before you soothed him in your gentle voice.

""S jus' me, big guy,"

His breath caught in his throat as your hands situated the material on the only slip of skin showing.. his eyes.

Once the blindfold was tied into place, your hand traveled the length of his arm until you stood in front of him, linking your fingers together. Simon immediately relaxed upon feeling the softer, yet slightly roughed up skin of your hands.

He could never understand how you maintained such softness in this career. From your soul to your skin. He never wanted that to change.

Your hands were always the soothing balm his weary soul needed. The few times you have initiated physical contact with your superior and teammate, he's instantly calmed.

His mind would go blank, a quiet peace he's never known before settled within the root of his being when you laid your soft hands on him. Either when you've deliberately touched his hand or the few times you've patched him up on missions.

He humored you by allowing you to guide him through the halls of the base, his mind focused on your hand in his. How perfectly your small hands fit within his palm.

"Doll.. I trust ya, but wha's with the blin'fold?" he asked finally.

You sent his blinded self a smirk when you came to a halt just outside the break room.

"Well.. I hav'ta test ya, now." you mused playfully.

"Do you scare easily, Lt?" you asked with a curious tilt of your head.

Simon stilled upon your question, panic and worry seeped into his bones. For the first time in his entire time knowing you, you'd manage to instill a blind fear into him. Literally.

"Doll.." he warned.

"Okay. That answers my question." you mumbled, feeling a part of your plan crumble between your fingertips.

"Hoist me up, big guy." you demanded, resting his large palms on your hips, to which Simon obliged, almost instinctively.

"Don't you dare drop me, Simon." you playfully warn, sending him a teasing glare.

He didn't even have to see your face to know of the smug smirk encasing your lips.

Simon held you up in his arms, wrapping his burly biceps around your waist, hoisting you up for what? He didn't know.

You locked your legs around his hips, reaching behind him to undo his blindfold.

Simon blinked at you a few times as his vision recovered. Brown, calculating eyes studied between you and the rec room entrance that was completely blacked out at the moment.

His heart stuttered in his, typically,hollow chest when his eyes settled on you. His gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips as you smiled at him, for once being eye-level with him.

You smirked at him before jutting your chin to the break room door, silently urging him to go in.

He continued holding you to him with such ease, as if you didn't weigh anything.

Simon tried not to focus on the comforting feeling of having you in his arms like this. But he'd be damned if he were going to let this moment pass him by.

He took a cautious step through the threshold, keeping you clutched tightly to him.

An uneasiness crept into the back of his mind as his senses picked up on the feeling that they weren't alone.

"Easy, big guy. Just hit the lights and it'll make sense. Kay?" you reassure him in that gentle voice.

His unease relaxed when he realized you were aware of other people's presence within the room.

He took a deep breath before reluctantly setting you down on your feet and flicking on the lights.

"Happy birthday, Lt!!" Johnny, Kyle, and Nik exclaimed in unison.

John Price and Kate Laswell stood behind the group. John's lips were tilted into an amused grin, his arms firmly crossed over his chest while Kate mirrored his stance.

Simon's initial reaction was to startle from the sudden exclamation but he quickly eased when he felt your hand in his again.

He turned to look at you, his expression still stoic behind his mask, but his eyes glittered with appreciation.

Until you blew a cheesy kazoo in his face and popped a silent confetti tube in his face.

Simon's eyes turned annoyed but you didn't miss the amused puff of air he let out into his mask in response to your antics.

When the rest of the team realized he wasn't going to kill you, they broke out into amused laughter.

"Happy birthday, Simon," you said with the biggest shit-eating grin, feeling triumphant in your ways of successfully pulling off his surprise party.

You gently nudged him toward the group where they all greeted him with a handshake or a clap on the back. Except for Johnny. Who unabashedly wrapped Simon up in a big hug, earning a friendly punch to his shoulder in response.

You sauntered over to Johnny and Gaz, beers in hand, and sat with them at the large round table.

"Seriously, lass, I don't understand how ye pulled that off without gettin' skinned," Johnny chuckled softly with an amused shake of his head.

"If it were us, he'd have our heads!" Gaz said with an incredulous look.

You shrugged nonchalantly and sipped on your beer, "Told ya he loves me."

Simon heard your words as he stood behind you, chatting with John.

He realized then that you were right. As much as he'd never admit it, he did love you.

He developed a taste for your sweetness and he now craved to always be on the receiving end of that flavor you gave.

His person. His sunshine. His sugar.

You were everything he never knew he wanted in life. And you were quickly becoming everything he needed.

[asleepyyeti]

struggling to feel like you're enough for him, you break up with johnny. the rest of the 141 don't take too kindly to someone dulling the light of their sunshine.

john 'soap' mactavish/reader

cw: implied violence/torture to reader, none of the 141 are good people (to you) in this (they only care about johnny), manipulation

You couldn’t hate Johnny, and maybe that’s why it was so hard to break up with him.

He wasn’t a bad guy, far from it: he was the model boyfriend, doting and cheeky and serious in the appropriate measures, and even when you argued, he never raised his voice at you. You’d never had a partner so devoted to you–one who genuinely didn’t seem to want anyone else other than you. Sure, he was a flirt, but that was just another thing you admired about him, his easy charm and charisma made him magnetic.

The thing about him being such an openly magnetic person, though, is that people revolved around him. They flocked to him, the gorgeous, the handsome, the easy flirts and the sultry gazes. Tonnes of people would die (would kill) to kneel at Johnny’s feet. And while he let them down with equal charm and grace, you were starting to come to a conclusion.

John MacTavish was too good for you.

Or rather: you were not good enough for John MacTavish.

< hey johnny

< can we talk?

It’s early, but Gaz is already halfway done with his breakfast when Ghost slides into the seat opposite him in the mess. He doesn’t expect him to talk–Ghost isn’t the most talkative, anyway, and seems even less so in the morning. He really doesn’t expect him to say, “somethin’s wrong with Soap.”

Gaz raises an eyebrow as he finishes chewing his mouthful. “You’re only just realising that now?”

“Serious, Garrick.”

Gaz sighs. “Yeah. I noticed too. Think something happened on his leave, I asked, but,” he shrugs, “doesn’t seem to want to talk about it.”

“His recruits keep botherin’ me about it,” Ghost grunts.

“You could ask him?” Ghost levels him with a glare, but Gaz brushes it off with an eye roll. “Or just order ‘im to tell you, you know he can’t say no to you.”

“S’pose I could.”

“I’ll come with you–he won’t be able to weasel his way past both of us.”

And he doesn't. They corner him as he's heading to his workout, though they almost don't recognise him from behind—he's missing the usual joie de vivre that flows through his body. Even his hair seems to have wilted.

“Have I been that off?" He tries to feign normalcy, but the hand that itches at the back of his neck gives him away even before his words do. "Ah, ‘s nothing, really lads, just… my lass broke up with me. Takin’ it a bit harder than I thought.”

Gaz sucks in a breath. "That's rough."

Ghost considers him for a moment, and when he speaks, it's with a measured, almost off-putting calm.

"Tell us about 'er."

John whistles low as Kyle pulls you out of a van by your bound wrists. Your distressed noises are muffled by the sack over your head. “Well, well, well. Good huntin’, Gaz.”

Kyle pushes you none too gently into the chair in the middle of the garage, only pulling the covering off of your head when Simon finishes securing you to it. “Thanks, sir. Easy enough once I figured out ‘er schedule.”

“Hard to believe our boy didn’t teach ‘er better, but she’ll learn. Won’t ya, buttercup?” Ghost croons. “Bet he chose a smart bird. One that learns ‘er lesson the first time.”

“Not smart enough,” Gaz says. You whimper from behind your gag as he produces a baseball bat, testing the weight of it in his hands. The look in his eye when it catches yours tells you he’s itching to use it.

"Not smart enough," John agrees. "But we can fix that, can't we, men?"

No one answers. The next sound is metal crushing bone.

Johnny’s eating cold ravioli out of a tin in nothing but his boxers when his doorbell rings. He swears a blue streak as he ambles to the door, and once again when he checks the peephole.

“Love?” he breathes.

John and Kyle barely register to him, though they’re bracketing you like bodyguards. If he looked closer, he’d notice that they’re practically holding you up between them–your knees too weak, legs too shaky to hold up your own weight. He’d see that you wince every time they shift their weight, when their fingers shift their grip on your arm. 

He pretends not to notice that one of your eyes is half-swollen shut.

“A little lost lamb,” his captain says, smiling at him. “She found ‘er way to us. Think she’s got some words for ya, Soap.”

“Johnny,” you cry–a quiet, pitiful thing that rasps from the back of your throat. You struggle your arms out of their hold and all but throw yourself into Johnny’s arms. “Johnny, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—“

“Sh, love, I’ve got ya,” he coos, pulling you into him. You whimper as his arms tighten, pushing into the bruises forming around your broken ribs. “‘m so happy lass, yer so good, ye made yer way home to me. Thanks, lads,” he says, nodding at his teammates, “think I’ve got it from here.”

John nods. “Of course. Keep a better eye on ‘er though, eh? Not safe for sweet things like 'er to be wandering around unattended."

"Aye aye, cap'n."

Johnny’s much happier these days. The boys often ask after you.

[kwonzoshi]

I had this idea, and I HAD to dot it. It may not be good, but yeah here is a blurb of an AU:

Simon sighed, staring at his phone. He probably should’ve blocked Wilhelm by now but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He stared at the texts they shared, and as usual, an ache built in his chest. Simon didn’t know why he even replied, all it did was make things worse.

Simon didn’t even know how to respond to the last text, so he didn’t. He put his phone down on his bed, rubbing his hands over his face. He laid there for a moment, hands still covering his face as he replayed the messages in his head. There was a soft knock on his door. He lowered his hands and glanced over at his sister, Sara. 

“You okay?” she asked, quietly entering his room and plopping down on his bed next to him. 

Simon sighed, “I honestly don’t know,” he said, sitting up and laying his head on her shoulder. “I keep re-reading our messages and I hate it but what he’s saying makes sense. It just sucks that I’m the only one dealing with any consequences.” Sara laid her head on top of his, taking in a deep breath as she listened, “He hurt you, Simon. That hurt doesn’t disappear just because he has a duty to the crown. Whatever you choose to do, I’ll support you but it’s also okay if you just do nothing. It’s your choice.” She placed her hand on her brother’s knee, gently giving it a pat. 

“He told me he loved me,” Simon confessed, lifting his head and turning to look at her, “before he left, and all I said was ‘I hope you have a nice Christmas’. Who does that?” He groaned, covering his face again.

“Really?” Sara asked, brows furrowing. “Do you think he really does?”

“I don’t know…” he sat back up, locking eyes with her. “I feel like if he did he wouldn’t have made the statement and left me to handle it all alone. I mean people still stare at me when I go to the grocery store.” 

“You think you’ll ever be able to forgive him?” She asked.

Simon shrugged, biting the inside of his lip. He really didn’t know and he wasn’t going to figure it out today. “Wanna go bother mom? See if she’ll make us some cookies or something?” Sara nodded, smiling as she stood, reaching out a hand. “Maybe we can convince her to make tres leches?” She wiggled her eyebrows. Simon laughed, taking her hand and following her out of his room, putting the whole thing in the back of his mind. 

Several days later: 

Wilhelm’s POV:

Wilhelm laid in his bed as he stared at the last message he sent, which Simon didn’t grace with a response. He’d been going back and forth on what to do. All he wanted was to be with Simon, but he fucked up. He did the one thing he told Simon he wouldn’t do and he regretted it as soon as he did it. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, switching to the photos app and looking at the few photos he had of them. He broke the trust they had and that was going to be hard to fix, but he needed to do something.

He ranted to Felice about this whole situation and while her advice was solid, he was still scared. His brother died tragically and now his family felt it was stuck with him as the crown prince. Any mistake he made, big or small, put him in deeper and deeper shit with the royal court. He was under the microscope even more than before. No matter what he did, he was never going to be seen as suited for this role, he was never going to be Erik, so why should he let them ruin the one thing that’s ever made him happy in his entire life? 

Meeting and loving Simon was life-changing, and losing him because of something he was forced to do, was devastating in ways he couldn’t put into words. Felice told him to follow his heart, and his heart was Simon’s, there was no question about it. He stared at his favorite photo of them, caressing the phone. At that moment, the decision was made, he sat up and opened Instagram. He began typing without giving it a second thought. Once finished, and posted, he stared at the post for a few moments before sending Simon a message.

Simon’s POV: 

Simon made his way onto the bus, showing the driver his pass before making his way to a seat in the back. He was listening to music to drown out the chatter and city noise, when his phone vibrated. He glanced at the notification, his heart racing as he saw that it was from Wille. He took a deep breath, opening it. 

His brows furrowed in confusion as he switched to instagram, clicking Wilhelm’s profile. His eyes narrowed slightly as he saw the most recent photo, clicking it. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened in shock.

His eyes filled with tears as he read that caption and after a few moments, he responded to the post with the three words he wished he’d said before Christmas break. He stared at the post in disbelief a moment longer. He… confessed..Simon thought as the tears cascaded down his face. He switched back to his messaging app:

Simon stared out the window and wiped his tears away, a giant smile on his face. He didn’t know what would happen next but at least he could trust that Wilhelm was going to be right beside him through it all.

He didn’t have a single doubt about it.

(Part 1 of ??)

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

So since the shadybug and claw noire is out, are you going to do a post on how the science kids are like in that universe since it isn’t a what we all thought it was?

Marc:

Imagine Dad For One. That’s how he is with Kiran

“My precious baby brother can’t survive in such a cruel world. So, it’s best if I just keep him locked in his room.”

He’s just a little bit psycho and carries around a lot of knives

A well-known street fighter who’s known for making people a lot of money when he sends his opponents to the hospital

Marc has a habit of stabbing people. Specifically guys. It’s best to just let him keep stabbing you until he gets bored or until Nathaniel calls for him

Denise:

Relies on brute force for everything

Always called on to deliver the “Death Hug” punishment to insubordinates at DuPont. Basically, they just wrap their arms around some poor guy until their eyes bulge out of their sockets and they plead for mercy

Takes pleasure in hurting those they deem weaker

The only exception is Simon. Hurt him in any way, and they will hunt you down and Death Hug you when you least expect it

You’ll know they’re around when you hear bones cracking

Simon:

A tech genius who absolutely loathes Max. There’s just something up with him, but he doesn’t know what

Has been trying to track down the Resistance so he can get in The Supreme’s good graces

All so he can get rid of his parents

He still unfortunately lives with his parents, and he has a burn scar over his left eye due to their negligence when he was five

A bit of a recluse. He secludes himself in his surveillance room/basement

Cosette:

Her mother has ties to The Supreme due to her military status, so the family’s rich

Skilled in hand-to-hand combat, street fighting, and they know the nerve punch technique to knock people out

Oh, and it has brass knuckles

They get into street fights with Marc, and have a mutual respect for each other

Cold, calculated, and in an arranged marriage with Austin Boulet to boost both family’s social status. In reality, she’s making out with some stuck up chick’s half sister

Zoé:

Pompous stuck-up girl from New York who enjoys making everyone’s life hell. When she tried to insult Cosette, she got punched in the face

… Now she’s in love

Unlike Chloé, their insults are more psychological, and leave people mentally scarred

His dad, Morgan, can put the Bourgeois family to shame with his wealth. He practically owns all of New York

Owns a motorcycle

Lacey

You can tell she’s near when she clacking glass bottles attached to her fingers, chanting, “Resistance… Come out and play~”

Not part of the Supreme, not part of the Resistance. She just wants to see the world burn and get her family out with her

Tries to make connections to get ahead and get her family out of this damn city. If that means double-crossing a few people to get to someplace without any psycho Miraculous holders, so be it

Is not afraid to curbstomp some motherfucker

May or may not have a slight crush on Reshma

Jean:

Sold by his cruel-ass mom to the Tomassian family for their son when he was like ten. (Yeah, she sucks) And his dad, a Resistance veteran was powerless to stop her

Austin had just come out as gay, Jean’s egg donor was desperate for cash, and so begins a loveless relationship

He’s like one of those emotionless trophy wives on sitcoms and holds out his hand whenever he wants some money

“Babe.” *Holds out his hand*

They’re dying inside

Reshma:

A moody rich girl with nothing to do other than shave half her hair off and pay some girls in dire need of money to make out with her

Family has strong ties to The Supreme, and her parents are trying to get her to become a Miraculous holder

Sneaks out at night to shank unsuspecting people with Marc

May or may not have a slight crush on Lacey

Goes out for joyrides in the Lexus

Ismael

Hates The Supreme, hates The Resistance. He just hates shit

Imagine Max from Camp Camp

Hits some creeps with his skateboard when he goes out riding at night

A bit of a loner

Steals money, food, and decent clothes since his mom don’t do shit

Aurore:

Her brother took her and her sister away from their parents, and has been taking care of them for eight years now

Rafael is a member of another sector of the Resistance, one that’s trained in many different forms of combat

Aurore has been learning self defense since she was nine

An expert survivalist who knows how to sand off her own fingerprints

Should anyone tied to the Supreme try to locate Rafael and track down where he lives, Aurore has an escape route ready so she can take Catherine to safety

Mireille

Alec got custody of her and Theo thanks to his ties to the Supreme

She’s closed off more than usual and refuses to speak to anyone except for Theo

Has sort of a goth thing going on

Hates just about everyone she comes across… She and Ismael get along well, though

Sometimes during the night, they go out, break a few windows, and steal some cash

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

“Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning - Part One” review:

Short review

Really fun action movie that’s bogged down by a questionable plot. I give it a solid letter grade of B. But part of me is also thinking B-/C+.

Long review

Coming off of “Fallout”, while I did enjoy the seventh installment, the plot was a bit disappointing. Part of me wonders if it’s because this movie is a two-parter and we’re not meant to see the entire picture yet, but the other part of me is questioning why this was the story that Cruise and friends went with.

The plot is basically “find key to control big scary computer”. This might as well be an Indiana Jones movie since they treated this key like a long-lost artifact. While this makes for a fun adventure movie, the plot starts falling apart when the movie starts going into the lore behind the key:

1) So apparently, we built an all-powerful AI called “The Entity” which is solely controlled by one key. Yeah, sure.

2) The Entity is this sentient AI that just sorta exists. As the villain of the movie, it’s really hard to be scared by it when the movie isn’t even sure what the villain’s goals are.

3) The AI is written like it’s God or something. The way the main characters talk about the Entity makes it seem like it’s omnipotent. Or Satan himself. In fact, there’s even a goofy ass scene where a bunch of unnamed officials take turns describing the Entity, which made them sound like cultists describing their god. I can’t believe I’m writing this but the “Terminator” movies and “Age of Ultron” had more believable depictions of an all-powerful AI that’s gone rogue.

So, as a villain, the Entity is kinda lame. And I do get why the writers went with an AI villain due to how topical AI is nowadays. I just don’t think this was a good depiction. In fact, as supposed social commentary on the dangers of AI, 1) other movies did it better and 2) it misses the real world consequences of AI, such as loss of jobs and being unable to determine what’s real anymore.

Aside from a questionable villain, there are other aspects of the plot that bothered me:

1) Esai Morales’ villain, Gabriel, was incredibly underdeveloped. I just know that he did something in the past that really affected Ethan. Other than that, he’s just there to be evil.

2) Hayley Atwell is acting her heart out, but her character kinda…sucks? I’m not sure what the writers were going for with Grace. She spends the first half of the movie being a nuisance and then, all of a sudden, she’s forced into becoming an IMF agent. But the thing is, I don’t get why she was treated so important to the story. Yes, she steals the key at the start, but after she loses the key, she loses relevance in the story. It’s like the only reason why Grace stuck around the second half was because Ilsa Faust died and Ethan needed the help of the only other female main character around in order to do an undercover mission. So, while I hate pitting two female main characters against each other, it does feel like Grace is in this movie to be Ilsa’s replacement, because she doesn’t have much relevance to the story after she loses the key. Speaking of Ilsa…

3) Ilsa Faust was 100% fridged. I’m actually fine with characters dying for the plot, but the way Ilsa’s death was handled left a bad taste in your mouth. Unless she actually faked her death for the 100th time, Ilsa dying felt like a step back. And if she was killed off to make room for Grace, then that’s another point deduction to the movie.

Now, there was a lot that I did enjoy. I liked Pom Klementieff’s character (also, how goofy is it that her character is a French assassin named Paris) and I wish she had a bigger role. It was nice seeing Kittredge again since the last time we saw him was MI1. Tom Cruise is working his fucking ass off and is still putting on a great show. And, of course, Ving Rhames and Simon Pegg are always a ton of fun in these movies.

That being said, it’s hard to look past the questionable plot choices. So, even though the movie was a ton of fun, it’s a bit of a step back for me. “Fallout” and “Rogue Nation” definitely feel like that’s where the franchise peaked. But, despite all my criticism, I am looking forward to Part Two. Hopefully, Part Two is where I’ll be sold on the plot.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Any recs where the heroine where reviewers on GR are like “god I couldn’t stand her she was a bitch”?

I'm pretty selective about reading GR reviews (because they annoy me... so much) but I think these have those comments for sure:

Kiss of a Demon King by Kresley Cole. Always and forever The Example. And like, does Sabine deceive and sexually torture Rydstrom? Yes. But her behavior does not top Lothaire's, and Lothaire is like, one of the most popular heroes in the series. She's also like, very confident about her appearance, and spoiled, and I imagine that affects things.

Neomi from Dark Needs at Night's Edge gets shit from IAD fans too. She's one of my favorite heroines ever; I have to think that a lot of the hate comes from her being a massive flirt who loves sex and is actually motivated to get out of the house she's trapped, tbh. Like, oh no!!! A woman being mildly self-centered!

No Good Duke Goes Unpunished by Sarah MacLean. I personally find Mara sympathetic (she fucks up, don't get me wrong, but I get why everything that happened... happened). But she's definitely MacLean's most hated heroine, mostly because she makes controversial decisions.

Melanthe from Laura Kinsale's For My Lady's Heart gets a lot of shit from readers for being cold and unfeeling... And it's like lmao dude she was given to an old guy in marriage as an actual child and targeted by a predator since then. She's political as hell and put walls up emotionally because she is so hurt. But yeah sure, I guess she's just a bitch.

I've been thinking about this book a lot lately, but Priest by Sierra Simone. I see Poppy, the heroine, being dragged down as like "shallow"--and the vast majority of the book is from the hero's POV, so that might affect things. But if you pay any attention to Poppy at all, she's got an internal life that's just as complex as Tyler's in many ways. She's also very conventionally hot, unabashedly sexual (flirts shamelessly with a Catholic priest even before he reciprocates lol), and was a stripper and didn't feel all this natural shame over it. Poppy owning her sexuality is a huge issue for readers, imo.

Similarly, a lot of readers of New Camelot are very dismissive of Greer and try to paint her as two-dimensional and whiny... compared to her two male lovers, of course, who are so deep and MUST truly just love each other, not Greer... It's both misogyny and a discomfort with the fact that a poly romance is in fact about a polyamorous triad, lol. And what I love about Greer is that she is a little frosty and removed, but her vulnerability is really revealed when she's alone with Ash and/or Embry. Like Poppy, she's very naturally sexual (and submissive) and she's not ashamed of it; she's very carnal. And she's also like, so good about expressing her emotion through sex? (The "IS HER PUSSY SWEETER THAN MINE???" rant at Embry is one of my favorite "oh wow they are really doing this" moments in a romance novel.)

I see a lot of people hating on Olivia from Olivia and the Masked Duke by Grace Callaway. Again, it's less her being a bitch and more her being a young woman who loves sex. I see a lot of "Oh, how could she be turned on by seeing the man she's into fucking another woman (before he even knows Livvy is an option for him)". Idk, because it's hot? There is soooo much kink-shaming in certain subsets of romance readership, gotta say. If it's not perfectly vanilla, they don't see it as "loving" lol.

Lol everyone hates on basically everyone outside of Valentine, the more strait-laced of the two heroes, in Alexis Hall's Something Fabulous. I think it's honestly such bullshit--like, yeah Valentine is not a bad man, but he is very closed off and self-centered in the novel's beginning. Also, it's an Alexis Hall romcom, everything is heightened and that means he has to go throoough it. Bonny is another hero, not a heroine; but he is very femme-coded in a way a lot of heroes in m/m books aren't, and it doesn't miss me that his more "straight-coded" counterpart gets a break where he doesn't. People get very uncomfortable with a lot of queer heroes in m/m romances who don't present as super masculine, or as fetishized hypertwinks. Bonny is lovely and funny and frivolous and flamboyant but he's also kinda bratty and not at all simpering.

People either act like the heroine of Sherry Thomas's Private Arrangements is a total cunt or an innocent totally wronged by her evil husband. There is no middle ground. When I'd argue that a point of the book is... middle ground.

Most Scarlett Peckham heroines get shit from readers, but especially the heroine of The Rakess (sex positive lady who has a fling with a kind single father widower architect) and The Earl I Ruined (flighty gossip who ruins the life of uptight dom earl, then decides to try to fix it).

People haaaate the heroines of Ruby Dixon's Sworn to the Shadow God (crime: being a kind of ditzy gamer girl who doesn't adjust to a parallel universe easily) and Wed to the Wild God (crime: is practical when the hero is a hedonistic airhead who needs her to think for him).

What a Rogue Desires by Caroline Linden has a heroine who grew up poor and has become a conwoman. Naturally, when she cons the rakish hero who was a total dick in the previous book, she is totally evil, I guess.

Roxanne from Lush Money by Angelina M. Lopex. Oh shit, she does all the stuff billionaire heroes do... Horrible...

Lol Florence from The Prince of Broadway by Joanna Shupe gets so much shit because she wants to run a casino and doesn't want to have babies. She's a total anachronism, apparently, all women wanted to stay home and have babies in the Gilded Age, nobody wanted otherwise.

[frozenwolftemplar]

Writer's Month Day 3: At a Festival

Fandom: Tangled: the Series (though Little Cass again, which I think is on its way to becoming its own thing...)

Rating: G

Summary: Cass, her dad, and former-Captain Williams are enjoying the horse races at one of Corona's (many, many) festivals, and Cass has an idea of something she wants to try...

2,100 words! How did this get to be that long?!?

+++

Corona had a lot of festivals. Too many, in Cass’s opinion. Those marking the changing of seasons ran together with historically important days that had become more of an excuse for a party than anything, both bleeding into days set aside to celebrate siblings or songbirds or (bleh) *love,* so the calendar was one indistinct blur of colors and confetti and days where her dad was busier than usual organizing security to combat the pickpockets and petty acts of thievery that were as much a tradition as footraces and bimberry wine.

So, no, as a rule Cass wasn’t a fan of festival days.

That being said, though, there were a handful she not only enjoyed, but looked forward to with all the eagerness of youth and Corona: the Harvest Festival (who didn’t like those?), the Day of Arms (an entire day devoted to celebrating the Guard and the sole festival her dad took the day off for), the Gopher Grab (because everyone liked that), the Hat Drop Festival (absolutely pointless, but someone always got drunk on bimbrry wine and fell into the harbor, which was always interesting), and, of course, the Fete of the Fleet, whose sole purpose was to honor that most hallowed creature Corona was built on: the horse.

That day offered every spectacle an aspiring horsewoman could wish to see, Breeders showing off their finest stock, farmers pitting their drafters against one another and the ponderous weight of a sledge laden with the Nim Quarry’s most pretentious boulders, steed capering demonstrations whose inherent frilliness was buried beneath the unmatched grace and elegance of the four-legged performers; for one entire day, all of Corona was a gymkhana of the grandest sort. As great as these were, though, they couldn’t hold a candle to the day’s centerpiece event: the horse races. The excitement of a half dozen steeds pounding neck and neck around the track always put that of every other diversion (or even watching the haberdasher’s apprentice get fished out of the harbor twice at the Hat Drop) to shame. Especially when Captain Williams was around.

“Come on!!!” Fist punching the air, Captain Williams urged the horses cresting the curve of the track on. “Faster! Fast- oh for the love of- that’s not how you jockey a horse!!!”

“Sir...” Cap groaned, shuffling a little to the right to try and put some distance between him and his shouting former commander in an effort to preserve his and, more importantly, his daughter's, hearing, Cass swaying with the movement from her perch on his shoulder. “Is this really necessary?”

“ 'Course it is!” Williams said indignantly, turning from the track just long enough to shoot Cap an affronted ‘don’t-question-me-son’ look. “Someone’s gotta tell King of Spades’ jockey how to ride a thoroughbred! Get up higher you yellow livered-“

Cap sighed (he didn’t know why he bothered...) then glanced up at Cass, one hand fisted in his hair to steady herself. “You good up there, sweetie?”

“Yeah Dad.” Cass had to shout to be heard over the noise of the crowd and Williams.

“You can see the race alright?”

"Yup!" There was a smug note to her answer, but she didn't care. Because she certainly could see the race alright, as well as Rupert, Marcus, and Simon over the way trying to stand on tiptoe to see over the sailors planted along his section of fence. As much as she hated being the shortest kid her age in town, it had its benefits.

An approaching rumble drew her attention back to the track. "Here they come!”

“Come on!" Cap joined in Williams' shouting, far from immune himself to the thrill of a horse race. "Come on!!!”

The noise of the crowd swelled like a cresting wave before crashing ashore in the sound of a hundred thunderclaps racing across the ground, the pack of horses galloping by in a blur of brown and black and rainbow-colored vests of the jockeys, sending Cass's curls whipping into her face with the wind that chased them. Then they were past, pounding towards the finish line, kicking up bits of mud and tufts of grass as-

“It’s Gopher Grab for the win followed by Knight’s Errand tailed by Rendezvous!”

“Dammit!” Williams spat as the town crier stationed at the finish line shouted the names of the horses that crossed, barely audible over the din of the crowd and clang of the bell marking the end of the race. He struck the top fence rail. “Jockey’s what did it. That ass-brained son of a-“

“SIR!” Cap’s scandalized cry cutoff Williams’ blue-colored tirade.

“What?”

Cap set Cass down to better preserve her innocence (hopefully) as he rounded on the man. “That was completely uncalled for!”

“Course it wasn’t.” Williams grunted. “I staked good coin on King of Spades!”

”That’s still no excuse for-“

Cass turned her attention back to the racetrack, letting her dad’s arguments against jockey-directed oaths and Williams’ justifications for lobbing all manner of profanities at the rider responsible for his chosen horse’s loss disappear into the surrounding between-races bustle. It really wasn’t necessary. Williams’ curses were nothing she hadn’t heard before, and Dad didn’t have to worry about her parroting them and being a discredit to his name and using them willy nilly; she intended save them for *good* reasons, better ones than complaining that the horse you placed a bet on lost a race (probably Marcus teasing her about being short, or those stuffy noble girls for just being idiots). But she didn’t complain, and in truth didn’t mind; this argument, and the betting that spurred it, was much a tradition as the drafters or steed capering.

Captain Williams *always* bet on the races. Usually he came out pretty well, but every now and then the jockeys were numbskulls or the track was bad and he went home with pockets a lighter than he would have liked. But it was all in fun, so he’d told her a few festivals ago; a bit of excitement that didn’t involve war or battle or have the kingdom’s fate hanging from his swordtip, harmless so long as he kept his debts what he could pay. And he always did, so even though Dad grumbled every time Williams peeled off to chat with Herr Printz at the betting box, she felt okay forming her own, more favorable opinion of the practice.

The victorious Gopher Grab trotted past, a laurel draped across his marbled neck and head held high with the pride usually reserved for the Captain’s horse. She watched through the fence slats, admiring, indulging in the woefully little-kid practice of fantasizing for a little about what it’d be like to go *that fast.* Talk about exciting! If she wasn’t committed to being a Guard, she’d like to be a jockey. Granted, it’d mean staying stupidly short for the rest of her life, but at least she’d get to spend her days riding the fastest horses in the kingdom.

Sighing, she leaned against the fence slats, thoughts drifting through daydreams of speed and excitement and wishing for the day they could be hers. Her stomach grumbled, and she reached into her pocket and the brown paper package of licorice she’d stashed there earlier. No paper greeted her fingertips, but what they found instead sent an idea to spark into Cass’s fingertips.

She may not be a jockey, but she could still make sure the next race was extra exciting!

Pulling her two-months-new coin pouch from her pocket, she turned up to her dad and Captain Williams, still arguing over whether or not bad jockeying warranted such a colorful condemnation. “Dad?”

”Yeah, hun?” Cap sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as Williams went on a diatribe that would have done the stablemaster Klaus proud on the sacred Corona traditions concomitant with horse racing, of which oaths were one (every year...).

“Can I put money on a horse?”

That stopped the men’s argument.

“Absolutely-“

“Sure thing, Cassie!”

“Sir!” Once again Cap turned, slack jawed and scandalized, to the former captain, whose earlier consternation had vanished completely as he beamed with unbridled delight at the prospect of teaching Cass the fine points of another sacred Corona horseracing tradition. “You can’t be serious!”

“Course I’m serious.” Williams shrugged off Cap’s incredulity. “Cassie has her own pocket money now, and she can spend it how she likes.”

“She’s eight!”

“A fine age to start learning how to put money on a horse. That’s how old I was.”

“Can I, Dad?” Cass pressed while Cap labored over how to diplomatically say that the world had changed in fifty years without insinuating that anyone whose memory stretched back that far qualified as old. “Please?”

”Of all the-“ Cap muttered as he dragged his hand down his face. “Cass, no. I know it’s your money, but gambling is a good way to get into a lot of trouble with it.”

“Cap.” Williams shot him a deadpan look, blue eyes flat and chiding. “It’s a bet on a horserace. It’s not like she’s wagering on cards.”

Cap ignored Williams, refusing to go down *that* tangent (since he knew Cass knew more betting card games than a girl her age probably should). “Part of why I agreed to pay you the coppers was to teach you how to spend money responsibly-“

“What about the silver?” Cass interjected. That didn’t come from polished swords and boots so shiny you could see your face in them; that came from a wrinkled old viscount who wanted the garden nook she was reading in for a dalliance with a miss young enough to be his granddaughter (grown ups could be really weird. And gross.).

“Especially not the silver.” (He still wasn’t sure if he should have even let her keep that, bribe that it was). “This-“ he gestured to the track- “is not responsible. Or educational,” he added in anticipation of the argument he saw building on William’s lips. “All you’ll learn is how to throw away good coin.”

Cass stuck out her lower lip as she stared at the toes of her boots peeking out from beneath her skirt. She shouldn’t whine and *knew* she should just take his order without question like a good Guard and perfect daughter, but, well, she *was* eight, and shouldn't *she* get to choose how to spend the coppers she *earned?* “But Dad-“

“Uh...Sir?” The debate was put on hold at the appearance of Isaac, just enlisted a month ago, an anxious hand pressed to his temple as his eyes jumped with a rabbit’s nerves from current Captain to retired to the girl he'd heard stories about (just because she was missing her front teeth didn’t mean she couldn’t still bite).

“Yes?”

“We’ve...uh, apprehended a man? Who seems to have been picking pockets? And, uh...do you wanna do something with him...?”

Cap gave a militaristic nod. “I’ll be right over. Cass:” He turned back to Cass, who quickly straightened out of the wilt she’d dropped into at Isaac’s quavering report. “Stay with Williams and no gambling with your pocket money. Understood?”

“Yes, sir."

“Good girl.” With that he rumpled her hair, exchanged nods with Williams, and left. Cass stared at her toes, twisting the cord of her pouch around her finger sulkily. This was the worst thing about festivals. She was proud of her dad being the Captain, but sometimes...she just wished, for once, he wasn’t always on-duty and he could spend festival days with her and have her be the most important thing in his life, not second to his job. Especially since that feeling, of not being important, of being an afterthought, pinched her heart in a way that caused something hot and snarling, so ferocious it almost scared her, to prowl in a way that felt far too familiar.

She shook her head, lessening the thought's hold if not banishing it, and looked up at Williams. He was studying her, thoughtful.

“He’ll be back, Cassie.”

“I know.”

They both heard what she didn't say. But not before the races end.

“Hey,” Williams said after a considering moment. “Your birthday’s in October, right?”

“Yeah...” An odd fact to bring up in April. What was he getting at?

“Here,” reaching into his pocket, he pulled something out, cocked his thumb under it, and flipped it into the air. “Happy half-birthday, Cassie.”

Cass caught the glistening object midair, eyes widening when she saw it was a half-silver.

“Now,” Williams leaned an elbow on the fence, sending a knowing wink her way. “Seeing how that’s a gift and certainly *not* the pocket money your dad gave you” (or that tryst-tinted silver), “anything you’d like to do with it?”

Cass grinned wildly, not needing to speak her answer beyond bounding off towards the betting booth, Williams striding gaily behind.

In the end, her Dad was proven right about betting on a horserace being an educational experience, as evidenced by the three half-silver strong symphony jingling in her pocket.

(Lady’s Favor really had been a great pick).

[trauma-express]

I felt whilst Simon had some attraction to Grace, it was less she didn't return his feelings & more she was the ONLY relationship he had in his life period, when Grace got angry at him for kiling Tuba, he felt she had betrayed like Cat and by the end, felt the only person he could understand and trust was himself. When you get down to it, his emotional growth was stunted given he was put on the train since he was ten with no parental guidance.

Well to be fair, Grace also had no friends and grew up on the Train with no parental guidance. She formed connections with the Apex kids, which he could have done as well but did not seem to. (And as a socially awkward person w anger issues and difficulty emotionally regulating it can be done!! We can make friends!! I promise!!)

I want to make it clear to people that Simon did not do what he did to Grace out of trauma, or any mental disorders you might ascribe to him. While they might have contributed, he did everything he did because he convinced himself he had the right to. That attitude is what led to his death, not any “oh people with these issues can’t change” message like detractors of his ending claim.

Putting this under a readmore because it will get a little long and I am discussing heavy content involving Simon’s actions against Grace at the end in the context of an abusive relationship.

In The Canyon of the Golden WInged Snakes Car, he tries to remove Grace’s glove against her wishes, and gets upset when she objects. Because they are used to casual physical contact, he feels entitled to that, and instead of accepting her “Don’t!” he angrily asks “Why?”. He is upset and sees this as her “Shutting me out” and “not acting like she should.” The Cat calls him out on this, pointing out she is not one of his miniatures. Here, Simon is genuinely confused and concerned over their falling out, but does not look at his own actions of wheeling Tuba against Grace’s wishes and repeatedly upsetting Hazel. Instead, he decides that something would be wrong with Grace. He takes the device that allows him to see her memories, a huge breach of privacy, and disregards the Cat’s warnings against it. In this episode, even Hazel, a six year old, is concerned for Grace’s safety around Simon.

In The Hey Ho Whoa Car, he dismisses Grace’s attempts to tell him that her personal experience of meeting Amelia as the Conductor is making her consider what Amelia is saying. Instead of listening to her as she is trying to figure things out for herself, he says that Amelia is brainwashing her. And when Grace once again doesn’t want him to touch her and says something out of the ordinary for her, he becomes suspicious. Here, Simon makes the choice to go through her memory, again a huge invasion of privacy. Again, he does not actually try to talk to Grace or look at his own behavior. He views her protecting Hazel as a personal betrayal.

In The Origami Car, his behavior shifts as he deliberately makes cruel remarks about being glad Hazel left to Grace, who is extremely distraught. Here it is indicated he felt jealous, with his line about it being just the two of them like it’s supposed to be, and later snapping that he was her friend first. He attacks Grace with the memory tape, going through her memories and even trying to alter the one with Amelia as the Conductor. He is very angry, saying she lied to him and betrayed the Apex and him. This is clearly a very personal anger. He blames Grace and doesn;t care for how upset this is all making her as she tries to defend her actions. On this scene, Lindsay Katai writes “But clinical narcissists are also very caring, provided you live by their rules. If physically abusive, they’re the type who say, “Why do you make me hit you?” Like in The Origami Car, @AlexanderHorab has him saying, “You made me do this. I liked what we had.” ”(edit: again, I disagree with this quote painting this as a trait of a disorder and I am only putting this in for the context of how the crew discussed the intention of this scene. my apologies). Indicating these undertones might have been intentional. Then, having taken his anger out on her, he leaves her comatose body for dead.

When Grace returns to the Mall car in The New Apex, he has the children ambush her with intent to kill her. He refuses to listen to her and dehumanizes her, calling her a void. He physically attacks her, kicks her to the ground, angrily calling her a rot and infection. Simon stands over her as she lies on the ground, yelling that she “owes him everything” in response to her stating she doesn’t owe him anything. He then attempts to kill her twice before dying himself.

To me, this all indicates that he feels entitled to have some sort of relationship with Grace, and because of his past he cannot stand the idea of her leaving him. Thus, when it seems that will happen, he reacts in a violent way that is unfortunately true to real life abuse.

[thanksbutno98]

Crutch

Ghost x reader!wife

Warning: mentions of sex (NSFW)

—————————

Today marked three months since your very tall very large husband had been stuck like this. Grumpier than usual and cursing like a sailor you were at your wits end with him. The amount of petty comments and fights he had started was border lining daily. He sat on the couch leg raised, a mountain of pillows elevating the cast. Having been spending most his his time in that position he was slowly ruining your £4,000 couch.

Simon had broken his leg and was making sure everyone in the house couldn’t forget about it. For such a stoic man he could be a crybaby when pinned down and given doctors orders. You would think he fell out of a goddamn heli the way he was making a fuss. Any normal person would expect him to come home with a broken leg from one of his missions with 141. Hell, he’d come home shot multiple times forget the broken bones.

But, he broke it in such a mundane way it was comical. Three months ago you requested Simon fix the leaking roof. It had warped the ceiling of your new borns room and you had gotten shrill at how long he put it off. The fall from the roof was not what caused the break it was the ladder falling backwards landing flat on his shin also tweaking his knee. You had to admit, watching your husband fall from the roof as you sat in your living room breast feeding was quite terrifying. Thank god the girls were at school.

Even though it was three months ago he was still blaming you for breaking his leg. Not that it was your fault he just needed someone to blame. Price had stopped by a few days after it happened. It still makes you smile thinking about the mustached man holding back laughter at the sight of Simon in a white cast that was completely colored on with pink marker and rainbow stickers. Grace and Fae had created a mural on it the day after Simon got it when he passed out on the couch. To say he was livid was an understatement. The girls ran to their rooms after he shouted about looking even more like an idiot. Mel then wrote the word idiot on the cast in retaliation for him making her little sisters cry. She was grounded soon after, telling you it was worth it. ‘Did you seen the vein popping out of his forehead?’ She snickered.

——————

“We’re not watching cartoons.” You could hear Simons thick British accent as Grace began whining. Being stuck on the couch for so long was making his temper significantly shorter, which you didn’t think was possible. There was only so much tv he could watch, books he could read, and weights he could lift. You didn’t mind the weight lifting his shoulder and biceps were mesmerizing.

“Pleaseeee!” Her voice high pitched stomping her feet.

“No, I’m going to go fuckin crazy if I watch another episode of bluey!”

“Simon, how many times do I have to ask you to watch the language.” You warned walking into the living room. Simon grabbed the decorative pillow next to him pressing it onto his bearded face then letting out a deep groan, muffled by the blue fabric. Oh yeah, he was also trying out a beard which you weren’t to keen on. You missed his stubbly face not this unkempt mess. Maybe if he tried to shape it you’d change your mind but he looked ravenous.

“Y/N, for the love of god go away. ” He tossed the pillow at Grace who caught it throwing it back at him with all her strength completely missing.

“And take the demon with you.”

“If I’m a demon you’re the devil!” Grace grabbed a stuffed animal hurling it at Simon only to have it caught with ease. She was picking up on his sass making her more of a handful than usual. The bluey theme song started playing in the background.

“I’m gonna lose it, Y/N. I never thought cartoon dogs could make me hate a whole country.”

“Come, Grace. Bedtime.” You shuffled the now six year old out of the room shooting Simon daggers. He only rolled his eyes turning on the football game. Once Grace was asleep along with Fae you stomped back downstairs into the living room. With one last deep breath you decided now was the time to confront your intimidating husband. It’s not that you were scared of him, honestly he was more scared of you but it was always a bitch to argue with him.

“Simon, this bad attitude has to stop.” You sat on the coffee table in front of him blocking his view. It was like you were invisible as he leaned slightly to the side to look past you at the tv turning up the volume at the same time. This, ass is blatantly ignoring me!

“Simon Riley!” You shouted. His head snapped back to look at you, his eyes going wide.

It was normal for you to get annoyed with him but you hardly ever raised your voice. In fact you could count on one hand the amount of times you raised your voice to anyone in this house. The last time being when you went into labor and by the time you were at the hospital it was too late for the epidural. You’d never screamed at him with such ferocity before. He told you the following day he thought you were going to kill him. Which wasn’t far fetched considering you kicked him out of the delivery room at one point for looking at you the wrong way. Grabbing the remote from him you turned the tv off.

“I get it sucks having a broken leg. But for Christ sakes, Simon, do I have four kids or five?” Simon nodded at your words not risking what he might say if he chose to speak. He may have been dumb the past three months but he would be daft if he doubled down having just been shouted at by you.

“Now, go shave that beard off and bring my husband back. Please and thank you.” You tossed the remote back on the couch as you headed upstairs to the nursery; your newest addition to the family was fussing. The large Brit could be heard as his crutches clicked across the hardwood floor a string of curses falling from his lips.

It was approaching midnight when you saw Simon again. Hobbling through the door of the nursery, crutches holding up his solid frame. His face was freshly shaved and hair damp. The smell of his body wash and aftershave filling your senses as he hovered behind you looking down into the crib.

“How’s the little guy?” Simon rested his head against yours, his large hand wrapping around your waist.

“He’s a brute just like his father. Only difference is he doesn’t mouth off yet.”

“Atta’ boy.” Simon squeezed your waist. Looking up at him he nudged his head towards the door beckoning for you to come to your shared room.

“Just a little longer.” You whispered adoring the sight of your baby boy. Swaddled in a pure white blanket with a little matching hat slipping off his head. He had Simons hair and eyes but your nose. He honestly looked the most like Fae which made Simon proud, no longer out numbered by a clan of your spitting image.

“Come to bed, I miss you.” The hairs on the back of your neck stood up at his words, his hot breath ghosting your neck. The smell of peppermint now being added to his already alluring scent. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time he out right said he missed you. He usually had some round about or sarcastic way of saying it.

“Good, is my husband back?” You asked giving him an expecting look trying to ignore the heat building between you two.

“Yes, and he misses you.” Simon leaned in capturing you lips in a tender kiss. The taste of peppermint was overwhelming making you yearn for more.

“Hmm, sounds like he’s just trying to get lucky.”

“Already the luckiest man in the world.” Kissing your forehead he turned stumbling slightly as one crutch caught on the grey carpet.

“Fuckin-“ Simon stopped what he was saying as he caught himself, hand pressed firmly into the beige wall. Feeling your eyes burning a hole in the back of his head. He cleared his throat.

“Bloody hell.” Turning slightly he shot you an apologetic smile.

“Better” you laughed patting him on the back. It still made you laugh watching this giant maneuver around the house on crutches. The normally stealthy man could be pinpointed anytime he chose to move rooms. It was kind of nice not having him sneak up on you anymore. He hated that you could still sneak up on him having honed your own stealth being married to a ghost. Although that game of cat and mouse you play was missed.

Finally making it to your shared room you helped Simon elevate his pink colored cast groaning as he put on a gory movie. This was some way of saying he missed you. Crawling into bed beside him you grabbed the book on your night stand and began reading where you left off, tuning the sound of screams out. It was hard not to notice his right leg hooking around yours to have some form of contact as he was absorbed by the movie. By the end of the film you had completed your nightly routine and slipped into a silk pajama set you knew Simon loved.

“Oh putting on a show for me?” Simons voice was gruff as he threw both of his hands behind his head settling deeper into the mattress, his left leg hoisted up by pillows. Pupils blown wide as he watched you move across the room to your side of the bed. It had been an abnormally long time since you had been intimate.

“Maybe if you weren’t so grumpy for the past few months I would.” You joked with a hint of seriousness. You two had had sex twice since he broke his leg consisting of you pulling a muscle once while riding him because he couldn’t do any other position. The other ending in neither of you getting off. That wasn’t the only reason you were avoiding it but you didn’t want to have that conversation.

“I know I can’t do much but you could sit on my fa-“ you cut him of with a quick raise of your hand. Holding back a giggle at how bold he was becoming lately, clearly sexually frustrated.

“How about we cuddle first.” Without missing a beat he was extending his arms pulling you into his chest. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth radiating off him cocooned you as his fingers ran through your damp hair. How could someone smell so good?

The past two years you watched Simon grow and change. He’ll always have a gruff side to him. One that tries to push all the love and affection you have away despite his true desires. There were things he was actively working on like tonight, the swearing. Two years ago it was the romance and now look at him. Finally being able to say he missed you and uttering the words ‘I love you’ when he thought you were asleep as if he was practicing. He’d romanced you into having another baby and you couldn’t be happier.

All those lonely nights when you two were first together adding up to him being a devoted father and loving husband. Never in your life did you think people could change but watching Ghost, the love of your life put in the work for you, that was astounding. Simon somehow was always making you fall deeper and deeper in love with him, like an anchor sinking to the depth of the ocean with no end in sight. He took you for the good and the bad and you were happy you took the risk of loving him all those years ago.

The choice to keep Fae started this now large family and your lives had been a whirlwind since. The fact Simon didn’t turn tail and run when you found out you were pregnant with Fae still shocks you to this day. At no point did he even ask for you to give her up like your ex asked with Mel. It was like he saw this as another mission to be completed and he dedicated himself fully. To you and to his family because without you he wouldn’t have one.

He proposed on your birthday having flown your dad and grand parents in for it. It was quaint and personal. Simon didn’t bother getting down on one knee but handed you a dainty emerald of your favorite color, in the wedding band you had pictured your whole life as you two stood looking across the snowy landscape. He had studied you and dissected you in so many ways how could he not give you exactly what you wanted. Knowing your mind and body was his specialty and he took full advantage of that when purposing.

He loved you so much before you two were even dating and he showed you it having taken a bullet for you. Being in a relationship with an emotionally stunted man like him had it’s downs, lows were all time lows. But now. Now, were the highs. No longer did you sleep alone, you slept with your broken legged man on the couch most night no longer being able to take turns with your new born and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

—————

“I can’t believe we’re at a bar’” Your voice was slurred as you waited for another round. It was odd being out in the night life your four children at home with your father giving you and Simon a date night. Of all the places you thought he’d take you this was the last especially considering he ditched his balaclava for the night not feeling like struggling with his ID like most times he grabbed a drink.

You had been feeling extremely insecure about your body just having your fourth child only five and a half months ago. It was hard leaving him home for the first time, you thought you’d get use to it by now but it’s hard every time it doesn’t matter if it’s not your first kid. Simon picked up on your insecurities right before he broke his leg realizing you were pushing sex off not from doctors orders or the normal changes happening inside of you but because you just didn’t like the way you looked. He tried his best to have that conversation and it ended with him making a fool of himself as you cried in the kitchen.

Just having a baby did not change Simon a bit. His desire for you just as strong as the first time he took you to bed. That was one thing you loved so dearly about him, his sex drive was consistent only wanting you. The need for an emotional connection with sex was an absolute necessity for Simon and that will always keep him coming back for more with you. No one will ever have his heart the way you do. Wrapped in velvet and held in gentle loving hands. Those very sexy hands that he loved wrapped around him.

“Its just a bar. I got the film time wrong.” Simon scoffed handing the bartender his card.

“So what, you’re maskless and that’s a rare sight outside the house.” You teased pinching his rosy cheek. It was easy to tell when Simon was getting drunk his cheeks always gave it away. Tonight was one to remember already. He had husseled three people out of money in a game of darts making all your drinks free at this point. Which is why they kept flowing.

“Yeah, and you have to wait a few days to breast feed. Worth it?”

“No, my tits will be so swollen. I’ll have to pump and dump it.” You sighed thinking about how much work that’ll be for nothing. Your little boy did not like formula and you knew he’d be very upset with you and Simon for choosing to have a date night.

“Let them get as swollen as you can stand. I love seeing them like that.” His lips were against your ear his crutch pressing into your shoulder. It was annoying because you were almost at the point of needing to pump.

“Simon!” You whisper yelled at him.

“What?” His eyes were mischievous as he looked down at you eyes glancing between yours and your cleavage.

“It’s for the baby. Get your mind out of the gutter.” You scolded hearing a hearty chuckle from him. You always loved when he laughed it reminded you he wasn’t weighed down by pain like he use to be. He had moved on and was able to actually enjoy his time nowadays. It was the easiest with you the girls following in a close second. Price was his only real friend as he kept everyone else far away. Soap was entering the realm of getting a real glimpse of his life only knowing about you but none of your children.

“Oi, my friends think they can beat you in a game of darts.” The man Simon had beat an hour ago approached the pair of you.

“How much?” You asked knowing Simon would win against whomever. He looked like easy prey on his crutches and a cast decorated in rainbow stickers and pink marker. He may tower over everyone in the room but the cast made him seem weak.

“£100, old man.” The vein in Simons temple pulsed being called an old man. That’s what he called your dad no way was some twenty something going to get away with that.

“That fine, dove?” His voice dropped an octave pulling the money from his wallet. Flashing it in their face he swung his way over to the boards crutches making his shoulders slump, an unusual look compared to his perfect posture without them. There was no need for you to answer, Simon knew you were enjoying the free drinks along with the bar food you two had shared. He looked good from this angle. His long sleeve black shirt fitting his muscles oh so perfectly.

“Y/N?” Averting your gaze away from your handsome man you were met with Soap of all people. A completely hammered Soap at that.

“Shouldn’t you be in Scotland?” It was a surprise to see the Scotsman here of all places. At some shitty dive bar not too far from your house. Not that he knew where you lived. It has been awhile since you’d seen him but he looked nice. Dressed in blue jeans and fitted black T-shirt a flannel thrown over it.

“Who’s your friend?” Soap glanced over at his very, very tall friend. He was easily taller than Simon but a lanky lad. His ginger hair complimented his green eyes and freckles and he was even drunker than Soap. He too was Scottish.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You smiled up at him having to crank your neck farther than usual with your  behemoth of a husband. You shook his hand firmly, his grip lingered a second too long.

“Such a beauty. I’m Harry. Let me buy you a drink-“

“Tequila!” Johnny yelled at the bartender with three fingers held up. He didn’t need your answer or his friends he was clearly trying to stop whatever conversation that was beginning to happen. Taking so much notice her shoved his body between the two of you pushing his friend away and scooting your chair slightly.

“Oh, you John’s girl?” You shook your head no turning to Soap.

“You hate tequila.” You whispered feeling his hand pat your back lightly.

“I panicked. My friends a dog with a bone and you’re just his type.” Soap whispered back. You could smell the beer on his tongue.

“What’s that mean?”

“Don’t make me say it” Soap groaned his speech slightly slurred.

“You’ve got amazing tits.” Harry interjected clearly hearing your conversation.

“I’m married!” You yelled having absolutely no grace and holding up your left hand adorned with your wedding ring. As if you were announcing it to the whole bar a few bystanders turning to look at you quizzically. Maybe you were drunker than you thought.

“That mean you’re not a good lay?”

“Excuse me?”

“Stop, Harry!” You and Soap spoke in unison.

“So what?” Harry flirted, lightly brushing his hand on your elbow eyes fixed on your breasts.

“Her husbands no joke, Harry.”

“Forget my husband, don’t speak to me like that.” You warned cutting your eyes at the ginger.

“He work with you?”

“Yeah, best not to fuck with her.” Soap warned paying the bartender. Harry tried to speak again but was cut off by Soap hading him his shot and lime. Putting salt on your hand you turned your back to the men not being able to stomach the gaze of Soaps friend. It was as if he was undressing you with his eyes. Soap hoped after this shot he could corral his suicidal friend away. 

“Fuck-“ you cursedd feeling the acrid liquid flow down your throat biting the lime for some relief.

“You even sound good.” Harry looked over Soap having a perfect view of you being abnormally tall. You watched the flash of anger in Johnny’s eyes as he geared up to get in Harry’s face.

Before either of you could respond a grey shadow moved out of the corner of your eye. It was the butt end of a crutch as it and the silver medal bar moved passed you. Pressing the plastic into the red heads chest and pushing him back a few steps you could feel the heat of your husband behind you.

“Fuck off.” Was all Simon said.

“And you-“

“Nice to see you Lt. We were just leaving.” Soap was practically dragging his friend away.

“Whoah, you own her or something?” Harry could be shoved as far away as possible but he was clearly visible over Soap.

“Yep!” You shouted standing between the two knowing the crutches were about to be thrown as Simon ignored his broken leg and left Harry with much greater damage.

“I own you?” The last thing you expected in this whole ordeal was Simons sultry voice. That was the husky tone you only ever heard during sex.

“NO!” You shouted a dusty red hue spreading across your cheeks.

“Haven’t you heard of sharing?”

“Knock it off!” You whipped around shooting daggers at this piss drunk man. The last thing you needed was for Simon to get in a fist fight and be carted off to jail.

“You know what. I’m leaving. And I swear to god, if you fight him you’ll sleep in the barn for a year.” You hissed completely unimpressed by the men in front of you. Simons gaze was not on you but fixed on the ginger as he stayed eerily silent. You could see his knuckles turning white as he gripped the handle of his crutches attempting some self control. This was suppose to be a fun date for you and your husband and this was far from what you wanted.

“Your mates a prick.” You told Soap as you passed by heading for the door, hearing the click of Simons crutches following you.

The left leg was kicked out from under him as he passed the tall Scotsman. You didn’t need to look to know Simon hit the floor hard. His body colliding with the sticky surface. That lit a fire in you and Soap. You were allowed to be mad at him but no way in hell was anyone going to embarrass him in front of you like that. Without thinking you were by Simons side using all your strength to hoist the solid man to his feet. There was no way you would ever be able to lift Simon in an ordinary circumstances but with Soap it was doable. Now everyone in the bar staring at the commotion, normally you’d be humiliated but the alcohol helped with that.

Without thinking as Simon sturdied himself and Soap cussed his ‘friend’ out you had shoved Harry, stumbling back into Soap. You bounced right off him, it wasn’t fair you were so small compared to both men. You even looked small next to Soap as he caught you before you fell.

“Fucking cun-“ before Harry could finish, a single crutch flew past you hitting the man square in the face. Just like always Simons aim was incredible breaking Harry’s nose on impact.

“Simon!” You hollered watching as you the red head stumbled backward clutching his nose, blood leaking over his fingers. The crutch landing on a near by table shattering the glasses in its path.

“He’s all yours, Johnny.” Ghost threw all the money he won from darts on the bar, you apologizing quickly as he collected his other crutch and hobbled out of the door. The employees were yelling for you all to get out while someone tried to help Harry with the bleeding. Soap followed trying his best to apologizes only being met with silence from Ghost.

————-

“You sure we can’t give you a ride?”

“No, friends already on his way.”

“Johnny why don’t you come over for dinner soon? Get to know Ghost a little better?” You offered as Simon laid on the horn for you to hurry up.

“Don’t think Lt. Would like that.” Soap was sat on the curb next to you as he waited for his ride.

“Doesn’t matter what he wants right now. I’m inviting you.” With that Simon laid on the horn again.

“I gotta run he’s angry enough as is.”

“Isn’t he always?” Johnny joked

“Not with me!” your eyes were dreamy as you rushed back to your husband. “Take care! And don’t bring your mate around again.” You called tugging the door handle of the truck.

“Fuck ‘em” was the last thing you heard as you shut the door behind you.

“You took your time.” Simons voice was gruff as he peeled out of the parking lot. No response was needed as you made the short trip home.

The two of you had already discussed the ordeal that happened in the bar swearing to never return. Out of character Simon apologized for losing his temper. Soap was the most shocked not knowing his Lieutenant could even do that. It kept replaying in your mind. Was it wrong that it turned you on how easily Simon took that asshole out. You couldn’t help but feel a heat grow inside you as Simons tattooed arm found its way over to you. He was lightly rubbing his thumb against your thigh fingers inching towards the growing heat. Why did it always turn you on when Simon was protective of you and even more so tonight.

“Wanna pull over and have a quickie in the car?” You asked giggling as Simon took a sharp turn leading you down a deserted road.

“Get over here.” The car was in park and your seatbelt was unbuckled before you knew it as Simon hoisted you into his lap. Turning off the headlights Simon had his way with you.

——————-

“Well, you’re grinning ear to ear.” Your fathers voice came from the living room couch as you and your husband arrived home an hour later than expected.

“Sorry we’re late.” You apologized kicking off your shoes, bending down and helping Simon with his.

“Have fun?” Your father was closer as he came over to get ready to leave.

“Loads!” The tone of your voice was sweeter than sugar as you handed him his coat.

“Why’s your hair such a mess? Is that a hickey?” With that Simon was swinging his way out of the foyer towards the kitchen.

“Christ sakes, Riley! You have any respect for my daughter?”

“Dad!” You whined

“She started it. I just happened to finish it.”

“Simon!” You and your dad scolded in unison.

[ladykissingfish]

I think the weather is finally cooling down. My hair might survive the humidity after all 😊

*Hidan, approaching the group sitting in living room*

Hidan: Hey fuckers. I know I’ve been getting on your nerves this week, so I have a present for you guys; I made you each a mixtape!

Konan: A … mixtape?

Hidan: Yeah. *passes them out* Listen to ‘em later. All of the songs should tell ya exactly how I feel about each of ya!

*later, each Akatsuki member lays in their bed and pops in Hidan’s mixtape for them*

Deidara: *first song plays; “I Hate Everything About You” by Three Days Grace*

Deidara: … that motherfucker …

Konan: *first song plays; “Fat Bottomed Girls” by Queen*

Konan: … this asshole better not be calling me fat — !

Tobi: *first song plays, “The Stupid People Song” by Peter Prins*

Tobi, in Obito voice: I’ll kill him tomorrow.

Itachi: *looks at tape; it’s just a My Chemical Romance collection with a sticky note attached that says “Here ya go, ya big fuckin’ emo!”*

Itachi: *sighs*

Sasori: *pops in tape; finds it’s not a song at all but a recording of Pinocchio saying “Am I a real boy?” over and over again.*

Sasori: He’s getting poison in his food all week.

Nagato: *turns on tape; first song is “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon*

Nagato, shouting: I’m not vain I am a GOD you inferior mortal!

Kisame: *sighs; the first song that plays is the annoyingly infuriating “Baby Shark” song*

Kisame: I don’t know if he’s simply making fun of me being half-shark OR trying to imply that I’m childish; but either way I’m biting off his hand in the morning.

Zetsu: Wonder what he thinks about me?

Zetsu: *puts on tape; first song is “Schizophrenia” by XXXTENTACION*

White Zetsu: We’re not schizophrenic!!

Black Zetsu: Damn right we’re not!

Kakuzu: Okay what did this brat make for me …

Kakuzu: *pops in tape; first song is “I Wanna Sex You Up” by Color Me Badd*

Kakuzu: … what the hell? *skips to next song; “I Want Your Sex” by George Michael*

Kakuzu: *quickly skips to next song; “Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye*

Kakuzu: *skips to next song; “Need You Tonight” by INXS*

Kakuzu:

Kakuzu: *shuts off tape*

Kakuzu: *gets up and locks his door*

[bytheangell]

Elle’s 2020-21 Bingo Masterlist

The Seelie Realm - Seeking Peace | Jace/Meliorn

Jace feels the grounding connection of the Alliance Rune fade away he finds himself drawn to the Seelie Realm, and to the one person who can help him keep from losing it entirely.

Shadowhunter!Magnus - Chosen Family | Magnus & Ragnor & Catarina

“Three go in, three go out,” Magnus, Ragnor, and Catarina say together. “Let’s do this,” Magnus adds, facing the small nest of ravener demons with a wicked grin on his face.

Hunt - A Very Successful Hunt | Clary/Isabelle

When Clary shows up at the Institute, Izzy falls for her hard and fast. Unfortunately, a few mixed signals leave each of them thinking their pining is one-sided until they're finally forced to talk about the unspoken tension between them.

Rivals - Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans | James/Cordelia

Cordelia does her best to sift through her conflicted thoughts and emotions after seeing James and Grace together.

Drunk Confessions - Want the Same Things | Jace/Simon

After Clary kisses Jace in the Seelie Realm, Simon can hardly blame her - after all, if he were in her position he would've kissed Jace, too. He just doesn't mean to admit that to Jace.

Enemies to Lovers - Had to Go Too Far to Know How Far to Go | Jace/Andrew

After growing closer to, and rather fond of, Andrew Underhill, Jace feels particularly betrayed to discover that Andrew's the one turning him in for sneaking out all the time.

Vampire!Alec - Married to the Dark | Alec & Simon (background Malec)

“You’re doing this tonight, aren’t you?” “Simon…” “Don’t lie to me, Alec. Those were goodbyes.” Simon doesn’t phrase it as a question. “Yeah, they were,” Alec answers anyway. “Obviously, I don’t expect you to be the one to do it. I’ll find someone else, just don’t tell the others.” “That’s the thing,” Simon says. “I don’t want to, but I also don’t want you to go to anyone else. If you are going to go through with this… I’ll do it.”

Meet Ugly - I’ve Never Been a Natural (All I Do Is Try Try Try) | Simon/Raphael

“What gave you that impression?” Simon shakes his head. It’s beginning to dawn on him that Raphael doesn’t remember, and he isn’t sure if that makes it better or worse. “You told me, the first time we met. The night you… uh…” Simon really doesn’t want to say ‘the night you kidnapped me’, given everything they’ve worked through to put that rather unfortunate first meeting behind them. Simon clears his throat instead. “When I wouldn’t sit still, you said you really hated fidgeting.” --- Simon's kept that one tidbit in the back of his mind the whole time he's known Raphael, and is usually a lot better about keeping still than he's being that night.

Two Person Love Triangle - Truth Be Told | Magnus/Alec

When Magnus is tasked with getting close to Alec in order to get information on his father Robert, he doesn't expect to like Alec even half as much as he does. And that, well, that's definitely a problem now.

Shadowhunter!Simon -  Love Me When It Hurts (1/3) | Jace/Simon, endgame Raphael/Jace/Simon

Jace isn't ready to lose Simon when he dies - and the vampire blood in Simon's system means he doesn't need to. But will the complications of Simon's new existence as a vampire be more than the couple can overcome, especially when they find Raphael ingrained into their lives more than any of them were ready for?

Children of the Night - Love Me When It Hurts (2/3) | Jace/Simon , endgame Raphael/Jace/Simon

Simon returns as a vampire and struggles to strike a comfortable balance between his old and new lives.

Getting Back Together -  Love Me When It Hurts (3/3) | Raphael/Jace/Simon

Raphael does his best to help Simon and Jace reconnect, and in the process finds himself growing more fond of Jace than he ever intended on. Not that it matters, because once Simon and Jace are back together he'll be out of the picture entirely... right?

Rune Ceremony -  All I’ve Ever Known Is How to Hold My Own | Kit/Ty

Kit can't help but feel as if something - or someone - is missing from an important moment in his life.

Forbidden Love - Forbidden Feelings | Magnus/Alec, past Magnus/Camille

It occurs to Magnus that perhaps, somewhere along the way during his very extensive life, something got a little turned around.

Because the love that’s supposed to feel ‘forbidden’ to him - the sort of love that feels like he’s tempting fate, like he knows he shouldn’t want it as much as he does - should probably be the ‘love’ (if it was ever truly ‘love’) from the manipulative woman in front of him.

It certainly shouldn’t be the kind and compassionate love from a Shadowhunter who stops to ask if a raincheck is okay while being ordered into a potentially life-or-death demon attack debriefing.

Potions Gone Wrong - Just Enough to Get By | Magnus/Alec, Magnus & Jace

When Alec gets attacked by a rogue warlock, Jace goes against direct orders to contact Magnus to try and save his injured and slowly dying parabatai.

Free Space - Making Time for What Matters | Luke & Alec, background Malec & Luke/Maryse

Alec and Luke both have a bad habit of overworking, often at the expense of their personal lives. At least they're getting better at looking out for each other, even when they aren't looking out for themselves.

Long Distance - Go the Distance | Lorenzo/Andrew

Andrew is more than a little worried about he and Lorenzo spending a month apart so early in their relationship, but it leaves them with some valuable lessons about communication.

Arranged Marriage - I Don’t Want to Say I (I Want to Say We) | Lorenzo/Andrew, background Malec

When Andrew overhears that Lorenzo - who he's been secretly dating for months now - is going to be forced into an arranged marriage with a shadowhunter, he does the only thing he can: he volunteers.

Shadowhunter!Raphael - Come Around | Raphael/Jace/Simon

Jace wonders if there's more to the frequent requests for him at the New York Institute than meets the eye, and decides to test a theory...

Bodyswap -  If You Don’t Belong, Don’t Be Long | Magnus/Alec & Simon/Isabelle

When a potion goes wrong, Magnus and Simon switch bodies. It's up to Magnus to figure out how to fix it, and up to Simon to control Magnus' magic enough to use it in the final steps.

Sex Club - The Right Company | Jace/Simon

Simon makes a joke about Jace and the other leather-clad Shadowhunters that leads to some interesting potentialities he hadn't considered before.

Marriage - Your Happiness is My Own | Gabriel/Cecily 

Gabriel arranges a surprise for Cecily on their wedding day.

Traveling - Take Me With You - Jace/Simon

When Jace gets assigned as Simon's bodyguard during his upcoming tour, he certainly doesn't plan on growing as fond of the musician as he does.

Rivals - Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans | James/Cordelia, Cordelia & Matthew

Cordelia does her best to sift through her conflicted thoughts and emotions after seeing James and Grace together.

Best Friends to Lovers - Make This Leap | Clary/Simon 

Whatever Simon has to say, she’ll handle it. She’ll be ready. “I’m in love with you.” She isn’t ready for that. --- A Clary POV of Simon's confession of love in 2x08

Proposal - your heart was glass (i dropped it) | Magnus/Alec

After breaking down, Magnus tries to push himself to get through the lovely dinner Alec set up for them... but he quickly realizes this wasn't meant to be a typical dinner date.

[welcome-tothe-madness]

Yo so like, after watching Book 3, I think I wanna kinda just put my thoughts here on Simon because so far he’s been one of my fav characters because of how well written he is and I just wanna like, idk, ramble

i absolutely adore how Simon and Grace are essentially 2 sides of the same coin, but also fundamentally different, and this is how their paths diverge. i think a large part of why Grace was able to start her redemption is because of how much she loved kids, and making them feel less alone. She thrived off of taking in lonely souls and showing them a “better way.” She genuinely felt bad for Hazel and wanted what was “better” for her. This doesn’t excuse any of her stuff, but her general love and compassion for other kids is really was kickstarted her on her redemption.

Simon did not. Not to say he didn’t care about Apex, but I don’t think he cared for the kids themselves. He cared about GRACE. He cared because she cared. If she had taken his hand and said “let’s leave this all behind” I’m sure he would have followed her. So while Grace is bonding with Hazel and learning to be ok with Tuba, all Simon sees is a distraction and someone holding them back. He also sees Grace not as enthusiastic to get rid of Tuba and keeps putting off killing her.

Now, about Tuba’s death. I see a lot of people marking this as the moment they started to hate him, and they’re not wrong, this was the key point where he became irredeemable. But I want everyone to take a step back and look at what we’ve seen so far. We know his backstory with Samantha, and i think everyone believes that’s the only reason he hates denizens. That could be the MAIN reason, but I don’t think it’s the ONLY reason. Remember why they were running in the first place? Because there was a bug denizen chasing them. We know from Book 1 that these big monsters are actually the creatures that inhabit the train. I think there is a big chance that he witnessed a denizen transform in front of him, and try to attack him. This is also supported when Grace has to explain to hazel why she doesn’t like them, she says “they’re unpredictable.” What’s that supposed to mean? Using context clues, I think they’re aware al the denizens are actually those soul sucking creatures. Yeah, no wonder they don’t feel anything for them when they die. As far as they’re concerned, they could turn and kill them at any minute.

Also, i’d like to bring up Book 2, when we’re first introduced to Simon and Grace. When they’re trying to recruit Jesse, they planned on killing Lake off to “help” him. Look at just how many kids are in Apex. What’s the likelihood that a majority of them befriended a denizen that they later had to sacrifice for initiation? This isn’t the first time they’ve done something like this. They’ve done this a LOT, possibly hundreds of times. Tuba’s death to Simon was just another day of initiation. Does it make it any less wrong? Of course not, he fully had the capacity to bond and redeem himself just as Grace had, and they even got along right before her death. But in Simon’s eyes, he was too far gone, Tuba was a dangerous creature holding them back and he finally found the perfect opportunity to get rid of her like they‘d always done. Grace’s horror is what’s new to him. Her acting shocked, disgusted, scared? She’s never done that before. She’s always planned it, egged it on, encouraged it, PRAISED him for this behavior. And note what he says to her after the job is done!! “Let’s see how high OUR marks have gotten.” He knew Grace was insecure about her number lowering, and did something he usually got praised for, and even thought it’d help her. It wasn’t a selfish betrayal (sort of, I also partially believe he did it to get on Grace’s good side again) but he also did it because he knew how down she’d been.

I also just wanna say Grace should have communicated better with him. I don’t know if things would have turned out better or different, but a lot of his later actions were derived from her dishonesty and her distancing himself from him. She never told Simon what she was thinking. She never told him about her hesitation. She never let him in on anything. Instead? She chose a denizen over him. She decided to change and grow and expected Simon to follow suit. He isn’t a mind reader, how the hell was he supposed to know plans had changed and he was meant to keep Tuba alive? How was he meant to know?

This doesn’t make any of his actions ok. Trusting the cat over Grace and trapping her in her own mind? There’s no ”justifying” that (not that I’m trying to justify) but I think I’ve reached a level of understanding with his character. A lot of what happens is because he’s been left in the dark. Yes, he had the opportunity to change and it is his fault for not taking action, but I think a moment that struck a nerve with me is when Grace said “I’m not responsible for your problems, I don’t owe you anything.” She’s right, she’s not responsible for him not bettering himself.

She’s not responsible for his betrayal. She’s not responsible for his jealousy over Hazel. But you know what she is responsible for? Shoving this ideology down his throat, refusing to communicate, and then acting disgusted and lashing out at him for doing everything she’s ever taught him. She’s the one that taught him a higher number was better. She’s the one that’s always took command/control. She’s praised him for shitty behaviors and when she sees the result of it? It’s not her problem. I completely understood when Simon screamed out “YOU OWE ME EVERYTHING.”

No, she doesn’t owe him everything, but her toxicity towards him is a major factor into why he turned out how he did. Treating people like shit and then saying it’s not your problem when it affected them? (Btw, I’m NOT a grace hater and do not believe she is the source of all his problems, clearly he is his own person and has the capacity to grow as well, but saying she doesn’t owe him anything?? Not even an apology for lying and keeping secrets?? that’s what mainly struck a nerve.)

Also, I wanna bring up another moment that I think solidified hate for him. When Grace saved him, and he tried wheeling her. I can also understand why he did this. Is it right? No, obviously no it’s not ok. But I think the reason he chose to shove her off is because when he asked “why did you save me?” Her response was “I don’t know.” You don’t know? You don’t know why you were compelled to save your number 1 friend for years? Someone who stuck with you through thick and thin, clung to every word you said, and did everything you asked? You don’t know why you saved him? Even after everything? In such an emotional and high tensity moment, I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same. Again, not something he should have done, but it’s something I can understand. If my scorned ex best friend saved my life and said they didn’t know why, I’d probably feel angry too.

anyways yeah, he’s still a shit person but he’s complex and i think a large reason why his character works so well is because of how well he is written. He did horrible things but there was always a reason, it was never ”mwuahaha, I’m evil now.” And that’s what I love about Infinity Train. Everyone feels so real. Anyways yeah ramble over, if you’ve read this far, feel free to discuss more with me if you feel like I overlooked anything or just wanna spark more conversation!! <33

[sukifans]

KEEP THE CHANGE // sokka

SUMMARY: this very attractive guy comes in every night during your graveyard shift at the 24-hour diner you work at, always doing something on his laptop. he might be selling organs on the black market, but he tips, like, really well.

WARNINGS: language, mentions of sex, guns/robbery, panic attacks, generally darker themes, all characters are 20+

WC: 5.5k

A/N: anotha one. 5.5k words accidentally. i plan on doing a part 2 and maybe more at some point, but for now i just had to get this idea out

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

Things I Know About Him:

1. He’s very attractive.

The bell above the door jingled and you looked up expecting to see an exhausted, slightly smelly middle-aged trucker like usual. When instead it was a cute guy around your age — tall, smooth tan skin, dark brown hair in a ponytail with shaved sides, wearing black joggers and a white t-shirt that showed tribal-style tattoos inked over the toned muscle of his arms — the smile you usually had to paint on for customers was genuine for once.

“Hey, how are ya?” you asked, standing from the table where you’d been rolling the cheap silverware in paper napkins.

“I’m fine, how are you?” he responded politely, shifting the weight of the backpack strap he had slung over one shoulder.

“Better now that there’s a new face in here. Just you tonight?”

“Seems that way.”

“Alright. Grab a seat wherever you’d like and I’ll bring you a menu.” You waved your hand out to gesture at all the open tables in the empty diner.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Just a coffee would be great, thanks,” he said as he made his way to a booth in the corner.

“You got it.” You moved behind the bar top to fill your pot with coffee and brought him over a chipped ceramic mug on a plate. You met his eyes when you set it down in front of him and you were almost struck frozen by how beautiful they were. They were the color of the sky on those perfect cloudless summer days when the sun seems to shine a little hotter; the color of the ocean in those tourist trap vacation agency promotional posters. You shook yourself to quickly recover, though given the opportunity you would’ve gladly stared into his eyes for the rest of your shift.

“Thanks,” he said, flashing you a small smile that revealed a peek of white teeth. The hell was a specimen like that doing in a place like this? He looked he belonged in one of those Calvin Klein ads.

“No problem. Let me know if you need something else.” You turned away when he nodded an acknowledgement as he pulled a laptop from his bag, hoping you didn’t look as flustered as you felt.

2. He takes his coffee weird.

The first time you saw him make his coffee you were horrified. You watched from behind the counter, amused at first, as he poured white sugar from the dispenser into the drink for a nonstop ten seconds. Sure, some people had a strong sweet tooth; that wasn’t too bizarre. You had to cover your mouth to stifle your irrepressible groan of disgust when he started drinking without even stirring to dissolve the crystals.

After some time it stopped being so horrifying and just became funny. You always had to avert your gaze to choke down your laughter when you spotted him crunching down on the undissolved sugar. If he hadn’t been so attractive it would’ve been creepy, but when he did it, it was... almost endearing.

3. He has money.

Every morning as the sun started rise you would turn to look at his table only to find him gone, leaving only neatly stacked dishes and a twenty-dollar bill behind. Even if he only drank coffee (total: $2.43, with tax, free refills), he would leave the bill. The first couple times he came in and did this you scanned the parking lot to look for him but it seemed like he’d vanished into thin air. After a week, you confronted him.

“You know, the coffee is only like two bucks,” you commented as you refilled his mug.

“I know,” he said.

“You’ve left a twenty here every night.”

“I know.”

You furrowed your brow. “We can give change here, y’know.”

“Keep it.”

“That’s a lot. Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He obviously wasn’t a man of many words, so you dropped it. If he had money to burn and decided to burn it on you, you’d take it. “Starving artist” isn’t just a saying, after all, and this shift didn’t exactly rake in the tips.

4. He has something either illegal or important (or both!) on that laptop.

He always sat in the same spot: a booth all the way in the corner with his back facing the wall, computer sitting close to his chest. It looked very suspicious, for someone who was probably trying not to look suspicious. No matter how many times you tried to sneak a glance at the screen while you refilled his cup you couldn’t catch anything. You’d have to practically be on his lap to see something and, well, it wasn’t that kind of establishment and you weren’t that desperately curious.

At least you knew it (probably) wasn’t some sort of freakish porn — he never wore headphones and his hands were always above the table either typing, lifting his mug, or scribbling something in chicken scratch in a worn moleskin notebook. It wouldn’t’ve been the first time someone had tried to use the diner’s free wifi for something like that. You would’ve hated to have to ban him for life.

Things He Might Be Doing:

1. Selling organs on the black market

2. Making a new-age tech startup selling GPS microchips to helicopter parents

3. Running the r/TheRedPill forum

4. Investigating conspiracy theories

5. Starting new conspiracy theories to hide The Truth

6. Solving crimes/murders online à la Don’t Fuck With Cats

7. Anonymous

8. Undercover detective trying to crack the cold case of a family member’s/close friend’s/lover’s suspicious and untimely death that was ruled an accident

9. Government whistleblower putting together a groundbreaking report

10. Robot gaining sentience and plotting uprising

11. Clone seeking revenge on his creator

12. Robot clone gaining sentience AND seeking revenge now that he can Feel

13. Studying/writing/doing a project/anything else realistic and boring

With a sigh, you looked up from your scribble-filled notepad. There he was in all his glory: laptop out, half-drunk coffee to his right, notebook under his elbow to his left, a pen stuck behind each ear and one in his hand that he tapped thoughtfully against his chin. What he didn’t realize was that the cap of the pen was off, leaving dark marks on his skin. The sight made you shake your head with a small smile. You turned to fill your pot with “fresh” (quotes added out of legal obligation) coffee for the trucker that sat at the bar top with a patty melt.

“Ah, fuck,” you heard from the corner booth. When you glanced over you saw him wiping his tongue with a handful of paper napkins, black ink all down his chin and the front of his shirt. The pen must’ve exploded while he was biting on it (a habit of his, you’d noticed). Even the trucker guffawed when he saw the mess. You headed over to his booth after refilling the other man’s coffee.

“I’d offer the Tide pen I keep in my purse, but I don’t think it’d do much for you,” you commented as you replenished his coffee. He glanced up at you with a grimace.

“I appreciate the gesture,” he sighed, huffing when he realized the napkin dispenser was empty. You scooped up the pile of ink-saturated paper.

“I’ll get a few rags.” He nodded in thanks and closed both his laptop and notebook, shoving them out of the way on the seat next to him. You brought out a couple rags soaked in warm water and wiped up the mess on the table while he scrubbed his face. Even after his skin was rubbed raw, there was a tinge of black around his mouth.

“Thanks-” his eyes flicked to the plastic name tag you wore on your chest, “-(Y/N).” He knew your name from how often he’d come in but he wanted to be extra sure.

“Sure thing,” you said, waving your hand. “I see you in here a lot but I’ve never gotten your name.” When he only hummed in agreement and didn’t provide a name you pursed your lips. “So, what is it?”

“What’s what?”

“Your name,” you giggled a little.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s not that important.”

Okay, weird. Maybe he had an odd name and he was embarrassed. “If I guess it will you tell me?”

“Sure.” He visibly seemed to relax a little. So definitely an uncommon name that he didn’t expect you to guess, then.

“Can I at least know what it starts with?”

He hesitated. “An ‘S.’” You smiled.

“Righty-o, Steven. Can I get you anything else while I’m here?” You pulled out your small notepad from your apron pocket and held your pen at the ready.

“Ah, no. I’m alright, thanks.”

“Alright, Shawn. Let me know if you think of something.” The corners of his mouth quirked up into a grin at your little game as you pocketed your notepad and walked away, soiled rags in hand. When you came back out from disposing of the rags, the trucker was gone and it was just the two of you left in the diner. Soft music crackled from the old speakers hung from the ceiling and he was back to typing away. You felt a little panic in your chest — he’d been coming in every night for the past month and a half and that was the most conversation you’d ever had with him. You had your in and you couldn’t let it go to waste now.

He looked up from his screen, eyebrow quirked, when you slid into the seat across from him. “What’s up?”

You shrugged. “Nothing. Just talking to my best customer named... Sam?” He shook his head and you groaned.

“Best customer?”

“Of course. I think you singlehandedly paid my utilities this month, Simon.” You folded and unfolded a paper straw wrapper idly as you spoke.

“Ah, I see,” he nodded. “Is that all it takes to get in your good graces?”

“Pretty much.”

“Sounds like you need a sugar daddy.”

“Are you offering?” You gave him a teasing grin that made his cheeks color pink.

“I, uh-“ he stammered and you laughed.

“Seth, I’m kidding.” You rolled the straw wrapper up into a little ball and flicked it at him around the laptop screen. It bounced off his chest and he chuckled nervously.

“Right, of course.”

“So, what do you do all night on that computer, anyways?” Self-consciously, he lowered the screen and you rested your cheek on your palm, propping your elbow on the table.

“Just some work,” he answered evasively. Right, illegal or important or both — the age old question with this guy.

“At night?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Well, you work at night.”

“Because I have a day job, too. And I like nighttime.”

“Me too.”

“Which one?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

You sat back in your seat, a little embarrassed at getting carried away and prying. “Sorry, I’m just curious. I don’t have a lot of regulars on this shift and I just think you’re... interesting.”

“Interesting? How so?” He smirked in a teasing, knowing way that made your heart flutter and your face burn.

“A cute guy that comes in at the same time, every time, to do work in the middle of the night and always leaves a massive tip is pretty interesting, at least by my standards.”

He faltered. “You think I’m cute?”

“You’re alright for a nocturnal weirdo, Sebastian.” You winked and stood up, smoothing down your uniform. “I should probably get back to work. If Mack sees me sitting down with someone he’ll watch back the security footage and clock me out for however long I was here.” You jutted your thumb out behind you to indicate the cook and manager of the diner who you could both hear clanging around in the kitchen.

“Sounds like a hardass,” he said as he pulled his screen back open.

“Yeah, well...” You shrugged again. “It is what it is, y’know? Anyways, just shout if you need anything. It was nice talking to you, Shane.”

When he left at sunrise as usual, there was an extra five dollar bill on his table along with the usual twenty. You grinned when you picked it up and saw that on it he’d written down a phone number and simply signed it from “S.”

5. His name starts with S.

“What are you so happy about?” Zuko asked when he saw Sokka’s grin as he came through the door.

“What? Nothing,” he said, purposefully setting his mouth into a neutral mask. Zuko rolled his eyes and sipped his tea, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“What did you do, Sokka?”

“Nothing! What, a guy can’t just be in a good mood?”

“No,” he deadpanned. Sokka scoffed.

“Right, I forgot I was talking to the guy who hasn’t had a good mood in like ten years.”

“Thirteen, actually.” Sokka shot him a look but Zuko’s face was serious. “Just tell me what you did. You’re usually tired and grouchy when you get back in the mornings, not smiling to yourself.”

“Christ, fine,” he huffed, yanking open the fridge to get a water bottle. “I gave a girl my number. The one at the diner.”

Zuko set his tea down and crossed his arms over his chest. “You did what?”

“Look-“

“Are you fucking stupid? With what we do, you’re just out and about giving your number to random women?”

“I’m sorry, we? You just got here, Prince Pouty. I can do what I want.”

“You’re putting everyone at risk, and for what? To get your dick wet?”

“I gave her a burner number for an app on my phone and she doesn’t even know my name. No one’s at risk.”

“You’re being selfish. This is bigger than you.”

“I’m allowed to have a life outside of this bullshit, whether you like it or not.”

“If it’s such bullshit then why do you still do it? No one’s forcing you to stay up all night digging for information and hacking people.”

“I can’t exactly do anything else now, can I? What am I supposed to tell employers I’ve been doing for the last few years, sitting with my thumb up my ass?”

“That is basically what you do, isn’t it?”

Sokka slammed his hands down on the counter angrily. “You can go fuck yourself, Zuko. You have Mai-“

“Mai is for appearances only.”

“-and Aang and Katara are together, and ever since Suki...” Sokka trailed off and then shook his head. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Just for your shitty attitude, I’m gonna take her out on a mind blowing date, and bring her back here, and fuck her on your stupid little trundle bed.” Zuko opened his mouth to respond but Sokka cut him off. “Don’t bother. I’m going home and going to bed. Tell Aang and Katara I stopped by,” he grumbled, slamming the door behind him as he left. He felt a little bad about probably waking up his sister and her boyfriend, but Zuko had been grating on his nerves since he got himself tangled up in their business and his misplaced self-righteousness about a little flirting was the last straw. The prick didn’t need to overcompensate for being Ozai’s son by meddling in his love life. He could do without that, thanks.

Sokka was still grumbling to himself as he jiggled the key in the door to his small and slightly dingy studio apartment a few blocks down from Aang and Katara’s. Once he was in, he kicked off his shoes and bag by the door, stripped down to his briefs, and flopped into bed to immediately pass out despite the slats of sunlight filtering in through his ratty blinds. As he fell asleep he couldn’t help but think of you; you and your playful banter and your pretty smile (the real one that made your eyes crinkle, not the fake one you gave to creepy travelers passing through) and your many questions that he had to carefully evade. One day maybe he’d be able to explain himself, even if it would take a while to get to that point. That is, if you gave him a chance in the first place. He couldn’t exactly blame you for turning down someone whose name you didn’t even know.

He just really hoped you wouldn’t.

The next night at the diner was as achingly slow as any other Tuesday. So far only “S” had come in and still he just sat in the corner, drinking his coffee and doing whatever he does. You had texted with him briefly once your shift ended in the morning, but you had to sleep and then get to your other job before your shift at the diner so there wasn’t much time for flirty messages. Instead, you sat at a table nearby to roll silverware, offering small smiles whenever he glanced up and met your eyes. The warmth in your cheeks whenever he smiled back was becoming achingly familiar. You vaguely wondered if your face might as well just get stuck like that.

Finally, someone new came in a few hours after midnight. He wore a ball cap and a large black jacket, hands stuffed in the pockets. You gave your usual spiel in your syrupy-sweet customer voice as you rose from the table to slide behind the counter and prep a cup of coffee for him. As you talked, you noticed he kept glancing around shiftily and had yet to remove his right hand from his jacket. There was something about him that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

Sokka had been half-listening to the one-sided exchange when a sharp intake of breath and the sound of shattering glass made his eyes snap to you. You stood frozen behind the counter, hands raised to your shoulders, staring at the men who held a handgun level with your chest. His stomach dropped as he took in the scene, blood running cold when your terrified gaze drifted to him and then shot back to the gun trained on you.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna need you to empty the cash drawer for me, if you don’t mind,” he said in an eerily cool, level voice that made your skin crawl. “Don’t try anything, I just want to get the money and get out. I‘d hate to have to hurt you.” You nodded, trying not to let your hands shake, as you shifted over to the register. Out of the corner of your eye you could see “S” subtly reaching for his phone, hopefully to call the police. This also caught the man’s attention and he trained the gun on him now. “Don’t think I don’t see you, pretty boy. Give me your phone.”

“Alright, man. Take it easy,” “S” said as he stood slowly with his hands up, holding his phone in one. He carefully made his way over.

“Here,” you said to distract the man. He looked over at the paper bag you held that looked like it only had a couple hundred dollars in it at most.

“That’s it?” the man barked. “I know you have a safe somewhere, you bitch. Open it and give me the fucking money.”

You stared, wide-eyed, and willed the tears welling up in your eyes to go away. “I- I don’t have a key-“

“Fucking figure it out!” he shouted, making you jump. Sokka felt white-hot anger bubbling in his chest when he saw a tear slide down your cheek as the man unlocked the safety on the gun. Without pausing to think, he leapt the last few feet between himself and the guy to knock the gun away. You screamed and ducked down when a shot fired off, but the man missed widely when his arm was hit and instead blew out one of the panes of glass at the front of the diner. Sokka kicked the gun across the floor and grabbed the man by the collar of his jacket before slamming him against the bar top. While he was winded he yanked his hands behind his back and shoved him to the floor on his stomach, shoving a knee into his kidneys.

“(Y/N), call the police,” Sokka said, trying to keep his voice calm. You peeked over the edge of the counter and then jumped up when you saw the state of the two men.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll, um- I’ll do that.” You fumbled with your phone, struggling thanks to how badly your hands shook. You screamed again when Mack burst out from the kitchen wielding a sawed-off shotgun. “Jesus fucking Christ, Mack! Took you fucking long enough to get out here, didn’t it? Poor Stanley had to take care of it!” You gestured angrily to the situation in front of you and Mack rolled his eyes with a huff.

“I was calling the cops, kid. Relax, you’re fine,” he said and you balled your hands up into fists.

“Relax?! I swear to God-“

“(Y/N),” “S” interrupted gently and you whirled around to face him. “It’s under control now. You’re okay.”

“You could’ve gotten hurt or worse and I-“

“But I didn’t. See?” He gestured to himself as Mack secured the man’s hands together with some zip ties from the back office and then to one of the barstools that was bolted to the floor. You didn’t respond to that and instead furiously wiped away the few tears that had tracked down your face.

“After you give the cops your statement, go home for a few days,” Mack said, sitting heavily in a chair that faced the man and holding the shotgun in his lap. You opened your mouth to protest but he silenced you with a hard look. “You’re shaken up, kid; can’t have you working like this. Besides, it’ll take a couple days to get insurance to replace that glass.”

You relented with a sigh and dropped yourself into a booth seat, folding your legs against your torso and resting your forehead on your knees to hide your face. You squeezed your eyes shut and sucked in a few deep, steadying breaths to hopefully push out the panic that still pierced your chest. You tilted your head up when you heard someone sit down across the table from you to see “S” giving you a concerned look. Self-consciously you wrapped your arms around your shins and pulled yourself into a tighter ball.

“Hey,” he said softly, “I know you’re okay, but are you, like... okay?”

You put your head down again and shrugged. “I guess.” You knew it was obvious to him that you weren’t, but you were thankful he didn’t push. Both of you were quiet for a few minutes and you could faintly hear sirens in the distance. All you wanted was to give your statement and go home.

“My name’s Sokka,” he said, finally breaking the silence. He drummed his fingers against the table nervously. You looked up at him again and gave him a small, watery smile.

“That’s a nice name,” you whispered with a sniffle.

Once you gave your statement and the police had taken the guy away in cuffs, you left the diner and were surprised to see Sokka sitting on the curb in front of the doors. He looked around at you when the door opened and he stood.

“You didn’t have to wait,” you said as he dusted off his pants.

“I know. I wanted to,” he said and looked you up and down. “You sure you’re alright? I can sit with you for a bit.”

You shook your head. “No, that’s okay. Thanks, though.” You both looked up at the sky in silence. The horizon was starting to fade from the inky black into a rich purple, stars still glinting above your heads. Dawn would be coming soon. Without a word, you walked side-by-side to your cars that were parked next to each other. When you popped your door open he looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he just gave you a closed-mouth smile and a small wave. You gave him an affirming head nod and slid into the driver’s seat. He waited until you drove away, car disappearing around a corner, before getting into his own.

As you walked up the stairs to your apartment, keys clutched in your hand, your heart was pounding again. Your eyes started to sting and you quickened your pace until you were practically sprinting to your door. After fumbling with the lock for a second you threw yourself inside and slammed the door shut, breath now coming in hard gasps. You slid your back down until you collapsed onto the ground. You curled yourself into a ball again, pressing the heels of your palms harshly against your closed eyes and feeling the tears spilling from them. You were not okay, you were not alright, you were not fine. Not at all.

You could barely see your screen through your tears, but you made the call anyways. It made you feel silly and weak but, God, you were so fucking scared. You just needed someone’s voice to ground you back in reality and he was the first person you thought of.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sokka.” You winced at the way your voice cracked; how it wavered.

Obviously, he noticed. “What’s wrong? Did you make it home okay?” Guilt and regret panged in your chest when you heard how worried he was. You shouldn’t’ve called, you were being stupid.

“Yeah. I-I don’t know why I’m s-so upset but I’m really f-freaked out. It’s st-stupid, I’m sorry for b-bothering you,” you whimpered to the relative stranger on the other end of the line. You screwed your eyes shut and pressed a hand to your chest; you felt like you had been sprinting and you couldn’t catch your breath.

“You’re not bothering me, (Y/N), and it’s not stupid. What happened tonight was fucked up and you’re having a perfectly normal reaction. Just take some deep breaths, okay? You sound like you’re having a panic attack.”

Doing as he said, you tried to even out your breathing to bring your heart rate out of the stratosphere. “Okay, okay. I, um- Sokka?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, this might s-sound weird, but... do you think you could, um, come over? I‘ll make you breakfast.”

“Oh, uh-“ he hesitated and despite yourself you started to panic again.

“You d-don’t have to. I-I know you’re probably t-tired. I shouldn’t’ve asked, I just don’t want to b-be alone right now.”

“Hey, hey, stop that. It’s okay, (Y/N). I just don’t want to make you, like, uncomfortable or anything. Strange guy in your apartment, and all,” he chuckled nervously. “Not that I’m... strange, or anything.”

You giggled through your tears. “Oh, you’re strange, alright; but I like that about you. Besides, I know your first name now. We’re practically best friends.”

“You know what? You’re absolutely right.” He laughed a little and the sound made you feel a bit better. “Just text me your address and I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?” The tenderness in his voice made your damp cheeks warm.

“Okay,” you sniffled. “Sokka?”

“Mhm?” You could hear him rustling around at the other end of the line along with the faint jingling of keys.

“Can you stay on the phone with me?” you asked sheepishly.

“Whatever you need, princess.” The pet name slipped so easily from his lips that he didn’t even notice. You, however, felt your face burn hotter and a twist in your belly. From anyone else’s mouth you would’ve thought you were being made fun of, but he said it so earnestly that you just felt warm and tingly, like you were talking with a grade school crush.

“What?”

“Hm?” he hummed distractedly and you cleared your throat.

“You called me princess.”

“Oh, sorry.” You hoped he was blushing as badly as you were. It sounded like he was, if one can sound like they’re blushing. “It’s just... something I call people sometimes. Habit.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s nice. I like it.”

“Interesting,” he responded. You could hear the suggestive lilt to his voice and it made the corner of your mouth turn up a bit.

You used to think that Sokka was a quiet man. Now, you knew you were wrong and he had always been too heavily focused on his work those many nights at the diner to properly flaunt what a motor mouth he was. He had no trouble sitting on the phone with you while he made his way over to your building, chatting away about... something — many somethings, for that matter. The details weren’t important; all either of you cared about was his almost prodigious ability to keep your mind distracted with idle talk. Despite your state he even made you laugh a few times. You were feeling better by the time he softly knocked on your door, although your legs still felt wobbly and weak when you stood to let him in.

When he saw your puffy, bloodshot eyes and the tear tracks that shone on your cheeks he felt an odd squeezing in his chest that left him a little winded. You had changed into a large faded t-shirt and leggings, your hair loose and falling delicately around your tired face, which had been scrubbed clean of makeup. He realized this was the first time he had ever seen you outside of the context of your work. Even though you surely felt like shit, in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but think you still looked adorable. He felt a strong urge to wrap you up in a tight hug, but held off. This was still new territory for you both and he had no idea how you would react to physical affection from someone so new in your life.

You greeted him with a tiny smile and closed the door behind him. He suddenly became acutely aware of how sweaty his palms were now that he was alone with you in your apartment.

“Do you want any coffee or tea or something? Water?” you asked. “I- I started making waffles, if you want one. Or do you want something else to eat? I have-“

“(Y/N), please,” he chuckled. “You clocked out. You don’t have to serve me.”

“I know,” you sighed, twisting a strand of hair around your fingertips. “You came all the way over here, though.”

“It was less than a ten minute drive.”

“Still.” You stared at him expectantly and he rolled his eyes as he sat on your couch.

“Just make me one of whatever you’re drinking. I’m not picky.” You nodded and turned into the kitchen to prepare a second cup of lavender chamomile tea with honey. He accepted it graciously when you handed him the mug with some tourist location stamped on it. He took a sip and was surprised when he actually liked it – he had never much been one for tea. You sat down in the armchair adjacent to the couch and set your mug on the coffee table.

“Thanks, Sokka,” you murmured. He waved his hand dismissively.

“Seriously, (Y/N), it wasn’t any trouble. I’d rather be here and know that you’re okay than sit in bed and worry.”

“Not that. Well, yes; thank you for coming over, but... I was talking about at the diner.”

“What about it?”

You could feel tears pricking at your eyes again and you swallowed thickly. “You saved me. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been there.”

“I’m sure you would’ve handled it.” His eyebrows shot up when you shook your head aggressively.

“He might’ve shot me before Mack came out if you hadn’t knocked his gun away. And you didn’t even have anything to defend yourself with!”

“I was okay, princess; I’ve trained in fighting in stuff. I had to do something. I couldn’t live with myself if he’d hurt you and I hadn’t at least tried to help.” At this admission, your tears fell freely again and you choked out a sob. Sokka looked panicked and he leaned forwards, fluttering his hands uselessly. “Oh, fuck. Are you okay? Did I say something?”

You shook your head. “No, no. You’re just really sweet and I’m really emotional. And tired.”

“Do you want a hug?” he offered hesitantly. You looked over at him and saw his cheeks had gone pink. With a nod, you stood from your chair and curled up with him on the couch, letting his strong arms wrap around you while you cried into his shoulder. He squeezed you tightly against his chest and said nothing. He just closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of your head, trying to ignore his own tears that threatened to spill when he felt the way your whole body shook like a leaf.

Even once your sobs subsided to sniffles you made no move to get up. Your very bones felt heavy with exhaustion and the way Sokka held you was warm and comforting. You both eventually fell asleep like that, embracing on your couch, your mugs of tea and the bowl of half-prepared waffle batter on the kitchen counter forgotten for now.

[queenlua]

ace attorney drink headcanons

franziska von karma:  one of those intimidating people who always drinks martinis and never spills a drop

athena cykes:  oh god, poor kid.  everything i was drinking at that age: cosmos, lemon drops, moscato, basically whatever on the menu has bright saturated colors and high enough ABV to kill me

maya fey:  she is the brave soul who always orders the most batshit-sounding thing on the menu.  clarified milk?  earl gray tea?  turkey stock?  chartreuse?  all valid cocktail ingredients in her book!

also, she’s lucky as hell, so instead of getting stuck drinking something that tastes like shoe, everyone asks to try what she ordered, and It’s Insanely Good Actually, and she gets to smugly watch as everyone else orders the same thing

more under the cut—

phoenix wright:  maya occasionally bullies him into ordering the most batshit-sounding thing on the menu, except whenever he does it, he ends up ruefully drinking something that tastes like shoe.  rip.

in general his preferences are very flexible, and he’s never bothered to figure out what’s Actually Good, so his liquor cabinet is this ridiculous mix of Actually Very Nice Stuff that people have gifted him, as well as Whatever Was On Sale At Kroger That Week, and he has no idea which is which so he just throws out a random assortment whenever company’s over

miles edgeworth:  a wine snob, obviously, but to everyone’s surprise he’s not a French Wines Or Bust kinda guy.  instead, he actually did a bunch of tedious research on the most promising but presently-underproducing wine regions nearby, and got memberships at like ten different wineries.  turns out, he was right, and now everyone in Paso Robles loves him & knows him by name & also all the bottles he’s had aging in his cellar for the past decade are now worth $$$, because he’s just got that good of taste.  he judges you if you go on a trip to Napa, that place is so overrated nowadays, but he at least has the grace to judge you silently. 

the first time he spends the night at Phoenix’s place, he peeks in the cupboard and sees a couple of those supersize bottles of Yellowtail moscato and/or some Franzia, and he nearly ends the relationship right there.  like, god, Phoenix, college has been over for ten years, have some standards

kristoph gavin:  also a wine snob, but of the French Wines Or Bust variety.  at some kind of office Christmas party, Kristoph and Edgeworth end up having a “casual” chat about wines, and it turns out they disagree on nearly everything, and also, Kristoph was radiating some Menacing Vibes, and honestly this dumb wine chat, more than anything, convinces Edgeworth that Phoenix is onto something.  this Kristoph dude is messed up.  who doesn’t enjoy a good cabernet sauvignon.  who.

simon blackquill:  the first time Simon ever goes to a bar, he excitedly asks for a Samurai Spirit.  the bartender naturally asks “what the hell is that,” Simon explains that it’s totally a real cocktail recipe he found on the internet, and the bartender insists he’s never heard of it.  no worries; Simon spent yesterday googling all the weebiest drinks he can think of.  maybe they have this one very high-end unfiltered sake?  nope.  what about a Bushido Blast?  nada.   what about a Peregrine?  buddy do we look like the kind of bar that keeps fancy liqueurs just lying around?  look, let me just make you a rum & coke because i got other customers to deal with, buddy.

naturally, Simon’s so put out by the whole experience he declares drinking to be bullshit for a while.  eventually Athena takes him to some bar that’s running a weeb-based menu during the local comic con, and Simon knows true joy again

...i can also imaging him going through an expensive scotch phase, just to be difficult.  (ever had that asshole at your party who’s like Actually I Only Drink Glenfiddich 18 Or Better?  yeah.  infuriating!)

apollo justice:  Apollo was a teetotaler for most of law school, until one Saturday night, when the stress was just Too Much, and he said “fuck it” and went to a big loud stupid party with people he only kinda liked.  he proceeded to drink way too much, and thus spent an entire evening/early morning/midday at the altar of the porcelain god, which convinced him Never Again.

he eventually got over it and now drinks a bit socially, but not often and not much.  it turns out alcohol really hates him.  he gets hungover as shit on, like, three beers.  poor dude

gumshoe: my fave salt-of-the-earth dude drinks Budweiser and/or Asahi, like a true red-blooded Japanifornian

i don’t have good ideas for Mia beyond “god, she’s so cool, just the coolest stuff you can think of,” nor do i have good ideas for Klavier (like, German beers? but that feels way too lazy/uncreative?), nor for Godot (are there... coffee cocktails?), so, suggestions welcome!