#and I’m like no no you don’t understand it’s amazing I recommend it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

duuhrayliegh · 1 month

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equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)

a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!

if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!

anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE

“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”

“That’s the problem!”

He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.

“You don’t understand me anymore!”

“Understand you?”

Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.

“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”

Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.

“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”

There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.

“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”

Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.

“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.

You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.

Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.

You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.

“Commando’s. How can I help you?”

The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.

“Hello?”

It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.

“Bucky?”

“Peanut?”

“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."

"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"

You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.

"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"

Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.

"I'm okay?"

Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"

You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.

On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.

On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.

“Peanut? Come on back to me."

“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”

“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”

No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.

“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”

You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.

“There she is.”

The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.

“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”

"Don't diners always serve coffee?"

"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."

"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.

Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.

And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.

You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.

"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"

An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.

"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.

A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.

He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.

Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.

"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"

A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.

"Yeah, thought as much."

"It's just all becoming too much, I think."

An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.

“Who's your friend, Jamie?"

Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.

"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."

Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.

"She's also my mother."

“Oh!"

He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.

“Your mother?”

Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.

“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”

There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.

"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.

"Sorry, just took me by surprise."

"Clearly."

Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.

"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"

Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.

"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"

You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.

"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."

Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.

"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."

You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.

"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"

"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"

"I want you to be you."

"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."

"I can't do that."

Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.

"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."

"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"

"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."

Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.

To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.

"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."

A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.

Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.

However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.

"I just want you to be happy."

"Do you think you could make me happy?"

"Absolutely."

You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.

"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."

"Will you be home for family dinner?"

"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"

Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.

"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"

You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.

"You just gestured to all of me."

You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.

"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"

Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.

"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."

"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."

Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"

He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.

"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"

You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.

"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."

You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.

You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.

"You ready?"

This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.

"Hold on tight, spider monkey."

You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.

City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.

His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.

Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.

"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.

The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere fun!"

He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.

Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.

He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.

"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."

You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.

"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."

He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.

As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."

You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.

You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.

On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.

"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.

Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.

A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.

"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"

"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.

"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."

You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.

"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.

As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.

You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.

His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.

It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.

"Why bartending?"

The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.

You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.

"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.

"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"

It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.

"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.

Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.

“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.

“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”

You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.

“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”

Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.

Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.

You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.

“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”

The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.

“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”

“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.

“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.

A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”

Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.

“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”

Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.

“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”

Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.

“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“

Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.

“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”

It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.

“And who the fuck is this?”

“I’m the guy.”

He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.

“What guy?”

“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”

The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.

“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”

He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.

“Apologize, Johnny boy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.

“Thank you.”

Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.

“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”

He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.

“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”

“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.

“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”

You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.

“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”

You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.

If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.

The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.

“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”

He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.

“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”

You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.

“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”

He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.

You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.

“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.

Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?

“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.

“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.

You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.

Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.

You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.

You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?

You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.

It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.

With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.

#bartender!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bartender!bucky x peanut!reader #bucky x peanut #consequences #ray's writing #bartender!bucky barnes x peanut!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bartender!bucky #bartender!bucky barnes x you #bartender!bucky barnes x y/n #bartender!bucky x you

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auras-moonstone · 4 months

Text

the one — jack champion

word count: 940

pairing: jack champion x interviewer!fem!reader

summary: y/n interviews her boyfriend jack at the sundance festival and they reminisce their last interview where they met a year ago.

warnings: fluff. this is a continuation of one of the first stories i wrote, it’s called enchanted to meet you ! i recommend you read it first to fully understand.

After Jack asked Y/N out for dinner, the two of them became inseparable and started dating soon enough. The fans were ecstatic, having been cheering for them to get together the moment that interview was made.

Now, a year later, they were both flying to Salt Lake for the Sundance Festival, where Y/N would be interviewing and Jack’s new movie Freaky Tales would be screening. They were both excited for it because now they would be there supporting each other as a couple.

“Hi! You seem familiar.” Jack spoke with a teasing smile as he approached his girlfriend for an interview. The feeling of deja vu warmed his heart.

“Hi, Jack. Looking very handsome today.” she smiled tenderly. “Are you going to show me your socks this time?”

“Ugh, stop it.” he laughed as he covered his face in embarrassment.

“So, tell me about Lucid.” Jack started telling the viewers more about his character, and Y/N watched him with a smile on her face. She was so happy to be sharing this with him that she felt like crying, “What’s your favorite thing about the movie?”

“I absolutely love that it is set in the 80s. I actually have been trying to get in the mood during the filming, I made this playlist filled with punk music from that decade.”

“I’ve seen some pictures. The outfits were super cool.” his girlfriend added. “Are we going to see you covered in blood again?”

“Guess you’ll have to see for yourself.” he smirked. Y/N threw him a pleading glance. “You can’t use your girlfriend powers against me. That’s not fair, you know I can’t resist that look.”

“I’m doing it for the people. This was a highly requested question on twitter.” Y/N shrugged.

“Fine, just because it’s you.” he said with a grin. “Yes, I will be covered in blood.”

“Yes!” she exclaimed excitedly.

“What is it with you and blood?” he shook his head laughing.

“I’ll answer that when there’s no camera.” she blushed and he raised and eyebrow in amusement. “Moving on, is there something on your schedule for the next months?”

“Well, the shooting for Avatar 4 starts in a couple of weeks. Other than that, no. Just enjoying my time with my family and my very gorgeous, lovely, and very amazing interviewer, girlfriend.”

Y/N actually giggled, in front of the camera, like a schoolgirl with a crush. He was going to be the death of her. “Well, good for you, Jack. Thank you for your time.”

“For you? I always have time.” he winked. “Text me when you’re done with the interviews, remember you’re also here as my date.”

“How could I forget.” she laughed. “I’ll see you later. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you, too. I love you.” he wanted to kiss her so bad, but that would definitely be inappropriate so he settled for a tight hug.

“I love you.” she answered right before he left to take pictures.

An hour later, they were finally able to be together again. They were both dragging their feet towards the hotel, absolutely exhausted and drained. Plus, it was so cold that their fingers itched and their toes were practically numb.

“The interview made me a bit emotional.” Y/N spoke. Jack looked at her, urging her to go on. “It made me think of our last interview together, the day we met. I was so nervous that day, and when you appeared it both got worse and better.”

“Why?”

“On one hand, you were so gorgeous that it made me panic. I was scared that my tiny crush would ruin my first interview. And then, you started talking and subtlety guiding me through it… it instantly felt natural. I don’t think I would’ve been as good if I had to interview anyone else.”

“I think you’re wrong. You were just nervous because it was your first, you would’ve figured it out anyways. Yes, we did have an instant connection, but you’re an amazing interviewer. You love your job, you are passionate about it, and that makes people feel comfortable, because you make it like less of a dread.”

Y/N’s sight got blurred by the tears. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I’m just telling the truth, love. I watch every single interview you’ve done, and not once you had made people feel uncomfortable. You’re respectful, sweet and understanding. And you’ve grown so much, I meant it when I said I’m proud of you.”

“I meant it, too. That I’m proud of you and that I love you.”

“I love you, I’ll never get tired of saying it. And I got emotional, too. The deja vu hit me like a truck. I can’t believe it’s been one year. It seems so long ago, but at the same time it feels like time flew by so quickly.”

“Right?!” she exclaimed in agreement. “The interview I was dreading ended up changing my life for the better.”

“You’re so sweet.” he pressed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I was smitten from the start, literally everyone called me out.”

Y/N laughed. “Maybe I wasn’t as obvious as you, because of the nerves and everything, but I was too. You were so charming.”

“Did I enchant you with my Ghostface socks?”

“Oh, most definitely. That was what made me know you were the one.”

“Am I the one?” he asked, losing the playful tone they had been exchanging.

“I know we’re only nineteen, but I feel like you are it for me.”

The words made his chest clench, in the best way possible. Looking down at her adoringly, he said “You’re it for me, too.”

haunted.ethan i didn’t realize how much i missed this🥺

fearlesslandry one year apart, same expressions of awe😫🫶🏻 best couple ever.

aurasmoonstone okay but i want to know what’s the answer to “what is it with you and blood?” 🤨

y/n.y/l/n that he looks so hot covered in blood😫

jackchampion oh? ☺️ y/n.y/l/n

y/n.y/l/n yes you should only take roles where blood is involved 😙 jackchampion

jackchampion consider it done y/n.y/l/n

y/n.y/l/n okay sidney prescott jackchampion

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thoughtsforsoob · 4 months

Text

you’re frustrated because you’re struggling to learn Korean - txt

a/n: hello! I thought this post would be a little relatable bc I’m struggling rn with Japanese (but not bc of a man 😋). So much kanji to remember and so many words that they just all mush together. I love the language but it is testing my patience and my memory rn :( please enjoy this and lemme know if y’all speak other languages :) it’s cool to know im not the only one struggling with a trilingual brain🥰 requests are open as usual (no pics belong to me! Found on Pinterest)

yeonjun

It was actually his idea to teach you Korean, starting with basic stuff such as phrases at the convenience store and at coffee shops. He knew it would help when you had to go out places on your own. You’re on the phone with him after he’s hyped you up and refreshed some phrases for ordering coffee. You finally are up to order and while your pronunciation has been good, you mispronounce a word and your face goes red. You apologize to the cashier who was very understanding and helped you say the word correctly. You paid and thanked them for their kindness. Yeonjun heart could burst at how the cashier was patient with you and how you tried your best and finally said the word right. “Oh my goodness! You did amazing! Next time you’re ordering coffee for the both of us.”

soobin

As the days went by, he could see your passion for learning his language was dwindling. You were struggling with your conjugation skills and he was just trying his best to help you learn and eventually practice. You both are sitting at the kitchen table, with your textbook in front of you (giving flashbacks to elementary math homework). He’s giving you example of conjugations your currently learning and how to used them. It’s starts to all mush up and you can’t figure it out or focus. You start to cry into your hands. He pulls you close to him, “don’t be sad. I promise that you’re gonna learn really soon. I believe in you.” That’s all it took for you to keep trying. He also promised he’d take you for a melona pop if you tried a few more conjugations (I love melona I’m so sorry 🤤…melon and banana are the best flavors not sorry)

beomgyu

homie is so serious and you get mad at him because of that. he’s teaching you silly phrases and on one occasion, he purposely teaches you the wrong phrase. So, you’re out at lunch with his members and you try the phrase on yeonjun and he looks so confused. “Did you just call me dumb?” Your face is furiously red and you run off, crying. Your frustration sets in. Why would be do this to me? He comes after you after giving you some time to cool down. “Baby? I’m so sorry. I didn’t think that would make you so upset. I promise I won’t do it anymore. We’re gonna get serious I swear.” He lures you out by telling you he’s gonna start teaching you from a really good Tex ok that was recommended to him. He also explains to yeonjun what happened and yeonjun gives him an earful as well, taking you side.

taehyun

he actually is a really good person to help teach you. He has the patience of a saint when teaching you grammar. If you’ve attempted Korean, you know how challenging grammar can be to understand. Let’s say you’re out at a restaurant and try to order your own food..you make a mistake and the waiter is looking at you like huh? You start to feel embarrassed but taehyun explains you’re still learning and has you try it again. When you get it right this time, he smiled and the waited smiled as well. The pride he feels when he can see your improvement is like no other. “You did such a good job, honey. Tell you what, how about we get some ice cream after? You deserve a little treat.”

huening kai

I feel like he’d be very empathetic and understanding towards your struggle. He speaks many languages too and understands how frustrating when something isn’t sticking or when you forget words or grammar. For example, you’re at home and you’re both working on vocabulary. you messed up a few words in a row and start to feel discouraged. His best tool to keep you motivated to learn was tell you he was proud of you. He would always encourage you the best he could, “you’re for this bub! I’m so proud of you! I’m gonna keep helping you until you’ve got this :)”

#txt x reader #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt headcanons #txt reactions #ari.speaks<3 #txt smau #txt fake texts #beomgyu x reader #txt texts #taehyun x reader #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #huening kai x reader

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soulrph · 2 years

Text

𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐋/𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

as requested by a very wonderful, very dear, very lovely friend! i hope you all enjoy using these as much as i enjoyed writing them! i honestly found these so nice and therapeutic to write tho like oml i cannot get over it! DO NOT ADD TO THIS LIST PLEASE!

“ oh, i knew you could do it! i’m so proud of you! “

“ i’m thinking of doing a movie/game night at my place, if you wanna join in? “

“ how many mugs of coffee have you had today?! that’s enough, now, you go take a nap before you buzz through the ceiling! “

“ i’ll send you the recipe, if you like! but, in the same breath, you should know that i really don’t mind continuing to cook this for you; it’s no trouble at all, really! “

“ are you sure there isn’t anything i can do to help you in the kitchen? “

“ come on in! take a seat! i’ll fix you up a plate, there’s more than enough to go around! “

“ why don’t you spend the night here? really, it’s no trouble to fix up the guest room, and we have plenty of spare pajamas and toiletries if that’s what’s bothering you! “

“ look, i get the whole lone wolf thing, trust me, i do. but... you do understand that there’ll always be a place here for you, don’t you? that door is always open to you, no matter what. that’s a promise. “

“ why don’t i make you a cup of tea, and you can tell me all about it? “

“ [NAME]? hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter? are you okay? what’s wrong? oh, come here... “

“ jeez, i don’t even wanna know how you got that battle wound there; sit down and let me fix it up, won’t you? “

“ hey, stranger! it’s been a minute, huh? what’ve you been up to? how have you been? hell, where have you been? “

“ now, now, don’t be silly; put that wallet away. i invited you out for dinner, so i’ll pay the bill, right? you can get the next one! “

“ hey, you didn’t order anything! don’t worry about it, huh? here, take half my sandwich; i can never finish the damn thing, anyway, you’re really doing me the favor! and there’s coffee in that flask, so help yourself to that, too! i’ve been trying to cut back, anyhow. “

“ hey, i know it’s really late, but... i didn’t know who else to call. “

“ everything’s gonna be okay, i promise. just tell me where you are, okay? and i’ll come and get you right this second. “

“ well, we have to celebrate your good news! what’s your favorite dinner? oh, and cake! we can’t have a decent celebration without cake, right? “

“ hey, hey, it’s okay, relax. i’m not about to nag you for skipping out on curfew, alright? have you eaten anything? because i saved you a plate, and it’s in the oven if you want it. “

“ now, now, none of that self-hate talk! we all have bad days, right? we all mess up sometimes and make silly mistakes. but it doesn’t matter at the end of the day; it just makes the good days all the better! “

“ guess who has an extra ticket for the concert this weekend! wanna come with me? they’re practically front row! “

“ you’re still coming over for dinner tonight, right? “

“ hey! what are your plans for the holidays? because, if you didn’t have any, i have an offer for you! or an open invitation! “

“ did you do something different with your hair? it looks amazing! “

“ oh my god, where have you been?! i was so worried about you! are you okay? did you get hurt?! “

“ we should go out tonight! come on, you can ransack my wardrobe if you like! i have a friend who’s the bouncer at that new night club, they can get us in for free! “

“ i made you some breakfast, if you’re hungry? it’s your favorite! unless you’ve got a new favorite, in which case... “

“ don’t forget to take an umbrella! “

“ let me know when you get there so i know you’re safe, okay? “

“ i watched that show you recommended last week! it was so good! can you believe that season finale, though? “

“ rough night, huh? i know that feeling. here, help yourself; the coffee is fresh, and the waffles are pretty damn good today, if i do say so myself! “

“ i knew you’d forget yours, so i brought extra. go ahead, help yourself! “

“ you’re welcome to stay for as long as you like. what’s mine is yours, okay? you don’t need to ask permission, just take whatever you want. “

“ you should get some sleep, okay? my room is just down the hall if you need anything. “

“ you don’t need to be so polite around here, you know! help yourself; i don’t bite! “

“ hey now, never apologize for feeling emotions, okay? humans are meant to feel all this stuff, no matter how good or bad the feelings are. besides; shoulders are built to be cried on! “

“ you should keep that sweater! it looks much better on you than it does on me; brings out your eyes! “

“ i never realized you could cook! the apron suits you very nicely! “

“ if you don’t have any plans this weekend, we should do something together! “

“ remember, if you want to leave early, just call me and i’ll come get you, okay? “

“ would you come on in inside out of that rain?! you’ll catch your death! “

“ don’t worry about it, okay? no apologies necessary; just breathe, everything’s good. “

“ it’s okay! no use crying over spilt milk, am i right? fetch me that mop and i’ll clean it up; you should find a clean shirt in the third drawer in my room, too! “

“ here, grab a plate; i made your favorite, and there’s more than enough for you to have seconds and take home a tonne of leftovers, too! “

“ would you mind setting the table for me while i finish up in the kitchen? “

“ you want some hot cocoa before you go to bed? i’m more than happy to have one with you; not to praise myself or anything, but my hot cocoa is the best in town! “

“ you did it! oh, congratulations! quick, i’m gonna fetch the sparkling cider, and then i’ll book a table somewhere fancy; we’re going to celebrate in style! “

“ oh god, you’re burning up a fever, you poor thing! here, lie down, let’s get you some water and a nice cool cloth, huh? “

“ how are you feeling? i thought you might be hungry, so i made some tea and toast. “

“ i thought i might find you out here... this must be your favorite spot, huh? it’s nice! “

“ how are you? and be real with me, now; i can tell when you’re not being honest with me. you’ve got a tell. “

“ figured you might be needing an extra blanket in this weather. you mind if i sit with you for a while? “

“ let’s go for a walk, huh? i know this place that does the best coffee you’ll ever have! “

“ i can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie before! we have to fix this immediately; you get the popcorn, i’ll order in the pizza and get the tv set up. “

“ wow... that pun was so awful, it actually became good again. nicely done! “

“ i know you have that meeting today, so i thought i’d come wish you luck. and give you my lucky socks! “

“ hey! i hope you’re hungry, i spared you some waffles and pancakes from breakfast this morning! “

“ maybe you’re not ready to talk just now. but i want you to know that, whenever you are, my door is always open to you. understand? “

“ i’m not here to say i told you so, don’t worry. i’m not that cruel. i’m just here to comfort my friend. “

“ you’re here so often, i figured it was about time you had your very own mug! “

“ do you mind if i put you down as my emergency contact? “

“ you should move in with me! i have a spare room, the rent is cheap, it’s closer to work... i mean, only if you want to, but i’m very much in favor of this! “

“ i know that things haven’t been easy for you lately, so... i was thinking, maybe we could plan a little vacation together? “

“ pull the car over, alright? you can get some sleep in the back seat, and i’ll take over the driving. “

“ woah, woah, woah... slow it down a few miles, huh? what’s going on? where’s the fire? “

“ do you want a hug? i give some really good hugs; i nearly got voted the best hug-giver in the continent, once! come on, you know you want to! “

“ hey! so i’m after having a really crappy day. you wanna get take-out and watch a movie at my place tonight? “

“ i remember you saying you didn’t like this ingredient last time, so i fixed you up something else. “

#rp meme #roleplay meme #rp prompt #roleplay prompts #roleplay prompt #sentence starters #sentence starter #found family sentence starters #dialogue prompt #dialogue prompts #writing prompt #writing prompts

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

Hi!

I just wanted to say that I absolutely love all of your COD fics! Your Price fics made me fall in love with him (I saw a recommendation for See No Evil on TikTok and just went down the rabbit hole from there (it’s also my comfort fic)) and Laughing Poets made me buy Ghosts for Keegan. Your writing is so beautiful and poetic and has inspired me to start writing again after a really bad writing’s block!

I also did want to put in a request for Ghost (because I love him so much) but given his hype, I understand if you don’t want to write for him or if it may be hard. But I was hoping that this hasn’t been done before (much) and that I could read it in your words since you are so amazing!

I was thinking of the reader being a CIA agent that was working undercover to get classified information and 141 was sent in to extract her after she was compromised. And her and Ghost don’t really get along at first, like they don’t hate each other but they could just care less about one another. But then they get separated and one of them is injured and the other fights tooth and nail to get to them, realizing how much they care. I was thinking that her callsign could be ‘Reaper’ but it can be anything else if it fits better. It can be angsty (because that’s the absolute best genre), fluffy, nsfw, whatever you want to do with it.

I know this is asking a bit much and I’m sorry for that. Feel free to change it as you see fit and do whatever you want with it, if you want to do it. I really appreciate and love your work!! Thank you!!

'Til it Hurts

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: You thought that it would be easy - moving on and blazing your own trail, but at every step, memories seem to come back and haunt you. And the biggest memory takes the shape of a man with a skull mask. Can you still deny what you had always felt when he stands at your side once more?

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: This duology will be 18+ and contain the following: intense gore, blood, violence, vulgar language, angst, fluff, suggestive content, (smut, p in v sex, virgin!reader (relevant to plot) all in part 2), abuse of power in the past, toxic working environment in the past, copious flashbacks, soft!simon because I love him like that (I guess considered ooc), banter, etc...

A/N: Part 2 will be posted tomorrow after I edit it and the link will be added to this part as well for ease of access. But, anna, that's wild that people post about my work on tiktok, lmfao. I'm so glad I helped you out of that writer's block, though! Enjoy part 1, Love (I did change it around a bit)!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You often think of the friends you had when you were six. The neighborhood you grew up in was full of other kids your age, and there was practically a horde of young boys and girls outside at any given moment. Early mornings were ripe for adventures – ears perking up from your pillows at the sound of bird songs and lawnmowers like an instinctual call to cause mischief. Days would run long and nights would end late with games of tag.

It was inevitable, at this point in your life, to not think about where your friends would be now. Were they happy? Starting families and getting married on island resorts; white sand underfoot and a gentle lapping of ocean water? You’d lost contact a long, long, time ago – never bothered to get back in touch, though you know things might be better if you had.

God, you’d never have friends like that again.

Selfless. Genuine. Without competition or a need to stab each other in the back. Friendships built on a childlike innocence that was never meant to stay or grow with the brutal stretch of years. People mature. They harden, sharpen.

They break themselves to fit a mold of what they want to be without even realizing…Or maybe that was just how you grew up.

Your feet pound against the cobblestone streets of Bergamo, Italy, as you make your way through the packed road of the Upper Old District. Under your chin, your fingers go up to grasp the scarf around your neck and pull the thick navy fabric up farther. Fast eyes flicker over faces as a fake plastered smile splays over your lips, and your jaw holds a tension that seeps into your shoulders.

Keep the act up, you have to remind yourself, fingers heavy at your hips, don’t let the facade slip, or else it’s over before it begins.

At your sides, past the unending sea of loudly speaking humans and loyal animals alike, the broad expanse of ancient architecture calls to the history of this city; red-terracotta roofing, extravagant greenery, and pillars as tall as the buildings themselves. A picturesque land filled with mysteries lost to time, stories never told beyond the scratch of a pen and moth-eaten parchment.

A city now filled with killers.

“Sitrep,” you grunt into the open channel, the earpiece fizzling as it sits in the clutch of your canal. No one answers and, slipping past a family of tourists, you glare at the ground; heart going so fast you feel like it could jump-start a car. “Damnit!”

The seconds draw on and as you pick up the pace, now shoving your way through the crowd, you feel eyes on you. Slithering over your skin like oil.

Not good.

Shit. Karver, where did you go!?

Karver ‘Rigs’ Massarini was an informant – someone who’d been giving you everything that you needed to know about the cell in this area; along with a grouping of eyewitnesses to a stash of ICBMs. A stash that could do some serious damage if they stayed here with the wrong people. Intel suggests that those very missiles were going to be shipped off to Mexico in only a few days, smuggled across the border into United States territory with the intent of doing some pretty awful stuff and framing the US.

If you and Rigs weren’t quick with this, so many innocents would suffer.

You’d already gotten into contact with Mexican Special Forces yourself, warning Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra of a possible breach and to watch for any unregistered shipments on the docks or coming in from the air.

But now Rigs was missing, and you had a funny feeling you were being trailed.

Back alley. You take a quick right, boots slamming to the ground and heart hammering. Get away from the civvies in case someone decides to go trigger-happy.

This cell was known for being deadly, Mr. Massarini had sent the file over to CIA headquarters before you were shipped out; Laswell had set you on it right away without even taking the time to read it entirely.

“Extremely high Kinetic; I’m giving you full Execute Authority on this, Reaper. We’re running out of time. Find those missiles.”

Torture, kidnappings, mutilations, the list went on for this group and how far they would go to keep secrets. No one had gotten any clear insight as to what their motives were – just that they needed to be put down in exactly the ways they had been doing to others. Ruthlessly, before they grew bigger or spread their influence beyond borders, and created a group that could rival what Al-Qatala had been.

So that was where you came in.

God, you wished Farah and Alex were here with you – at the very least you could rely on them to help, even if you sectioned yourself off from others more than a dying cat. There was a reason you preferred being sent in alone with only your wits.

Mostly because of situations like this.

“Rigs, sitrep. Where are you,” you try again, the close walls shrouding in your shadows. Throwing looks over your shoulders, you take down deep breaths, a growl gradually digging itself a hole in your esophagus. Desperately, you say, “I’m heading back to the safe house ASAP. Wait for me there.”

Your right hand gravitates to your pocket, slipping through the fabric and pushing aside the ripped seam at the bottom. The sheath at your thigh pinches you with every step, but you’ve endured it for years, calluses breeding where the leather had chaffed the flesh to toughness. To an ingrained perfection. Flinching when your fingers bump against the handle, the metal adornments feel cool to the touch despite the sweat dripping down your spine; temperature and nerves leaving your palms sweaty.

None of this was going to plan.

You caress the small Dirk blade strapped to you, and when the first footsteps enter the alleyway behind you, your hand clenched into a loose fist around it. Your eyebrows pull tight with annoyance.

Taking a slow breath as the trailing stranger begins to move faster, you take a corner, halting the second you were out of sight. You nonchalantly turn on your heel and lean into the wall, feeling your body conform to the building and the stone dig into your back.

The material is cold, and as you raise your Dirk up, you flip the blade parallel to your forearm, wrist lax, and fingers still. A slow breath flows from your barely-parted lips.

3 seconds. You don’t blink, only gazing out across the space and noticing the dark shadow gaining ground. 2…1…

Your body jerks forward, free hand snapping out and grasping the fabric of a shirt. Twisting your hips, you plant your feet and wrench the stranger around the corner, breath coming out in a loud snarl. Without a shout, you have the person’s back shoved to the building in an instant, blade held above an Adam’s Apple.

A man, then.

“I’m going to give you one full minute.” Your Italian was only surface level – far better at understanding others than speaking full sentences. But you think whoever this man is comes to a conclusion well enough. “Before I cut you open and watch the life spill from your eyes.”

You don’t recognize this person, his sharp face or dark, sly, eyes, and with a quick assessment of his large stature you figure out he’s the basic definition of a man sent to complete a job. One that would have left you dead if you were anything less than a contracted CIA Agent on a job. You had been trained among the best from your time in the Marines – years on Special Ops forces; taking point. Even if they were the worst times of your life, you still learned a great deal from them, particularly, how to know when to cut your losses.

With one look into his smug face, you know that this stranger would tell you nothing.

Your lips formed a grimace, teeth flashing under flesh at the rod-straight form of the man under you. He was smirking with eyes seeming to be laughing at you. Arrogant. Self-assured.

“You’ll get nothing out of me, Reaper. We are already on your trail.” Your head tilts, a numb huff escaping your throat and pushing the individual's hair back as a breeze would. There was a small pause; tiny shiftings of your feet as your blade digs ever deeper.

A thin trail of blood falls from the placement, and your muscles writhe under the epidermis. There’s no thought behind the laugh that enters the air, that cold, dark, thing that’s more of a bark from a hellhound. It was just a realization that no matter where you went, there could never be anything unique anymore. Everyone was always the same.

“You’ll never get it out of me-”

“Break my bones; rip my flesh, you will never make me talk-”

“If you want to see me beg, you’ll be disappointed-”

There were countless memories you could bring to the precipice of your mind and re-live; moments ingrained into your psyche like a tattoo is to skin. So you can only smile and nod, scarf swishing around your neck. The man looks confused now, if not slightly nervous. That self-assured attitude leaking to the ground. Eyes as dark as obsidian beginning to snap back and forth – looking for a saving grace in the make-up of ancient stone that wasn’t going to come.

You wondered how many people had died in this city throughout history. The stories lost to time. Have these alleys seen war? Famine?

Have they seen murder?

But you are a woman of your word. A minute passes in tense silence, your eyes never leaving his own and ears carefully in tune, twitching like an antenna, to the joyous shouts and laughter just a street over. Here you wait like a rat in a trap, though you like to believe yourself more of the metal Hammer than the unknowing participant in a dance of death and wits.

You tighten your grip on your Dirk, shrugging up at the man. Your face is nonchalant as an understanding smile grows. As simple as a server at a restaurant.

“I believe you.” And you run the knife’s edge across his flesh like a match to a striker before he can scream.

Stepping back, you’re suddenly thankful for the scarf over your sweat-slick neck because as the spray of blood splatters over your nose bridge and forehead, you swipe it away with one of the ends of the thick fabric. You let the body drop, watching large hands snap to the gushing wound like that alone would stop the cold grip of death.

Your mark has been met.

The External Carotid Artery was easy enough to cut, though you had to dig deep for it, and it seemed the man had moved mid-slice. Frowning while the man gasps and gurgles; flails as a fish would, you study your work as you flick the blade clear of blood. Your brows furrow.

“Nicked the Thyroid Cartilage, hm.” Sighing and shaking your head, you sheathe the Dirk and twist on your feet, still intent on making your way back to the hotel safe house and trying to find a lead on Rigs. The slumping of a body reverberates a moment later, a grandiose death rattle, and still, only a street over you hear animated conversations – the bustle of traveling feet, and the sound of the breeze.

You often think about the friends you had when you were six. But, now, instead of being the one who fought off the monsters at the ends of the beds, you had become it. The monster. The boogeyman.

The Reaper.

Oh, what would they think of you now?

You swipe at the blood along your fingertips, seeing the red bleed under your nails with such a numb feeling that it scares you more than anything. Taking down a gathering of saliva that feels more like a slug in your throat, you wonder when you lost the ability to value human life. Of course, the answer was slated in those early years in Special Ops, but you don’t dwell on those times.

In fact, it was better if you never thought of them at all.

Taking a left, you hum a tune under your breath and listen to the birds sing as the blood dries.

—

The meeting room wasn’t even a room, just a vacant air-craft hangar that had been fitted out with two rows of metal fold-out chairs and a projector. Shadows danced over the floor, long streaks of darkness over concrete.

“...I’ll be giving you full Execute Authority – but this mission is completely Black. Host weapons only. No Evac team.” Laswell’s voice echoes off the ceiling, and Ghost’s eyes flow over the projected intel, memorizing the faces and locations with nothing more than a blink of his blue eyes. Fluttering eyelashes caress the hard material of his mask before settling.

Task Force 141 was being sent off on another deployment again, deep into Belarus and near the Russian border.

“Time frame?” The Captain asks, standing a small distance away and leaning against a crate of ammunition. His arms are crossed; jaw is loosely set.

Kate looks at him, above the heads of Gaz and Soap, and nods her head before she comments, “one week.”

Gaz huffs from ahead of the hulking form of Ghost, and the silent man shifts his attention back to the group.

“One week, Kate? No offense, but we don’t even know if the bastard’s in Belarus.”

“‘fraid to get dirty there, Garrick? Ah, we’re good enough for it.” Soap elbows the male at his side, and the masked man releases a puff of breath one row back. The Scot twists in his seat, mohawk tendrils falling over his forehead, and smirks. “C’mon Lt. back me up here. We’ve got this in the bag already.”

“Bit confident, Johnny?” Ghost grunts out, accented voice low and muffled from under the black fabric over his lips. His hips shift over the chair, legs splayed and arms crossed as he reclines back; letting the bulk of his gear weigh heavy. “Just wait until you’ve got us sitting on a pile of dry leads and rotting corpses.”

“Eh, nothin’ we haven’t dealt with before.”

“Focus, you three.” Kate interrupts as Gaz rolls his eyes to himself, fixing his ball cap over his head with a fast flick of his wrist at the antics of the other two. “You’re going to be shipped out at 2000–”

An easily recognizable ringtone starts to play.

Blinking in surprise, Laswell takes a glance at the table that had been long forgotten and spies her phone buzzing over the metal. Her light brown hair, kept securely tied back, swished at the nape of her neck. She wastes no time.

Briskly walking over, the rest of the men in the room watched intently, heads perked up. Ghost couldn’t stop the pique of interest at the strange behavior, though his form remains still, only making a noise under his breath in contemplation. In the hold of his crossed arms, his fingers tighten.

“Not the person I’d imagine keeps her phone on for just anyone…” Gaz makes a slow comment, and John slides up beside him, hands hooking onto the sides of his combat vest. Watching.

“Hm,” their command affirms.

Kate picks up her phone and immediately answers, brows furrowed. She shifts her weight as an inhalation reverberates. The conversation on the other side was too muffled, a small droaning the only signal that someone was on the opposite.

Unconsciously, Ghost straightens in his chair as the rolled-back sleeves of his undershirt leave his black ink tattoos on display. A deep intrigue spilled in his chest but otherwise, he was still focused on the previous instructions for the next Op. This was just another cog in the wheel, perhaps a location change for their safe house, or an accelerated timeline. No matter, they would get it done regardless–

“Reaper?” Laswell speaks, and blue eyes slide to stare at the Captain, whose legs had tensed. “What’s happened–”

The Lieutenant knows something was wrong just by the simple fact that he’d never seen their Station Chief talk on her personal phone with that look on her face before – he’d seen it mirrored on the Captain and he’d clocked it from her just as simply. The wrinkled skin at the side of her eyes, and stiff-set lips peeled back in a frown. She’d always been serious, but the air was different.

Reaper? He runs through the database of his mind and ignores Gaz’s and Johnny’s muttered words and glances.

“Now who do you think that is, then?” Soap grunts out. Ghost doesn’t answer.

Brows furrow.

Sounds familiar, the man can’t help but admit.

“Patch me through. Now.” Kate slips to the computer a few steps away and opens a fresh tab, sorting through files and months of intel as if it mattered just as much as a bug under her heel.

“Kate?” Price prompts. The woman only holds up a finger and keeps the phone in between her shoulder and cheek, hands fast across the keys.

Soon enough, a feed pops up on the projector, and the three previously sitting all rise to their feet in an instant.

An open wound is in the process of being stitched and displays itself over the entire available space, violent red internal flesh puckering over the edges of…Ghost narrows his eyes, unphased.

Was that a fabric needle and thread being used for sutures? Resourceful, he admits.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” The manchester man levels thought the blandness of the tone contradicts itself. “Where’s this feed from, Laswell?”

“What the fuck…?” Soap growls out, and the Scot blinks at the screen in shock as the Brit beside him lets off a sound of disgust akin to a sick cat.

“Reaper, sitrep.” Kate doesn’t flinch, rushing off into procedure as steady hands delve back into flesh, blood falling from their fingers like water to splatter to a rundown wooden table. The world-away computer was most likely getting a rain of crimson all over the keys at this rate.

Price grunts under his breath.

“Shit,” a distinctly feminine voice wafts out, a harsh sigh held back, though the annoyed tone was noticed immediately, “can’t a girl stitch herself up in peace? Besides, Watcher-1 answer me this, huh?” The computer is jerked, its screen going staticky as Ghost watches with roving eyes to take in the background when the visibility returns. A bed, nightstand, and sitting by the floor of the front door, copious amounts of weapons. The man takes stock – an M13 assault rifle, X12 handgun, and Arctic .50 sniper rifle. Ammunition lines the floor in a way that leaves Ghost’s lips thinning under the mask.

Someone’s in a hurry. But from what?

“…what goddamn hotel doesn’t have mirrors in it?” Kate’s sigh can be heard a mile away. “No, I’m being serious here, Watcher – how the hell does that happen?”

Watching you take a step back, Ghost as well as the other three all blink in surprise when you come into view. Your top was off, only a sports bra covering your flesh, as your focus stays on the digging needle you send into yourself over and over.

Yet again a feeling of intense familiarity strikes the Brit in the chest. Your soft face, your hair, your voice. It was infuriating.

Who are you? The inability to call forth a memory leaves the fists at his sides gradually clenching under his gloves.

“Reaper.” Seriousness grows in the Agent’s voice, and Price lets out a slow chuckle that leaves Gaz turning to him in confusion.

“Sir?” But the inquiry is ignored.

“Still as stubborn as ever, then, Reap?” Everyone sees your hurried stitches stop, head snapping up as they clock a veiled panic behind the iris’.

Your eyes tell all the story they need, and Ghost’s body freezes as the color evokes a physical twitching of his hand.

“Holy hell,” he utters under his breath so silently no one even realizes he spoke; eyelids pulling back before settling like nothing had even happened.

“You know, you're the first person who’s been nice to me out here.”

“...Then I’d tell you to get better friends, Sergeant. I’m not sticking around.”

“I never said they were my friends, Ghost, and I never expected you to stay, anyways. That’s not how this works.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

“Bravo-06?” You ask, voice sometimes cutting out over the line. A laugh breaks out, and a small smirk twitches the corners of your lips, “Hey, Old Man, how’s it going over there? Been a while.”

“What have you got yourself into now?” Price asks, chuckling under his breath with a groaned continuation, “and how do you need me to get you out of it?”

The spectral man now watches with a newfound fervency, blue eyes boiling so violently that if anyone had seen, they would have thought he was about to attack. Like a split second of eye contact with a wolf before it rushes. The build of his shoulders was still loose, however, and the only indication of shock was his optics; the mask shrouded all.

But there was a subtle movement of his hips, feet transferring over the floor to stand shoulder-length apart.

“Oh, this,” you point to your injury with a free finger, tying off a knot on the last line of sutures. “Nah, it’s nothing. A couple of assholes tried to get the jump on me a block back, one had a knife on ‘em.” Your hand tosses the needle and thread to the table, a muttered, thunk, sounding off. Looking down at your work with a raised brow, everyone watches. “Took care of it – they gave me a name, too, but with the trail of bodies I left today, I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t pan out.”

A pause before you turn your head back up, face now completely serious as you focus on Laswell.

“But we have a bigger problem, Watcher. Rigs is gone; I think my position’s compromised. I’m going black.” Your form leans to the side, and a wrinkled t-shirt is thrown over your head. From your mouth, a stifled groan releases. Ghost blinks in surprise.

The Captain’s lips thin, and he looks at a tight-wound Kate.

“I have a contact in the lower levels, Reaper, meet up with her and she can have you out of the city by tonight. I’ll send over her info.”

“No can do, Watcher.” You sigh, and Ghost simply stares, following your figure as you back up, heading to the X12 and shimmying it into the back of your pants before looking over your shoulder. Kate hums under her breath. “If they’ve got Rigs,” Walking quickly back over to the computer, one of your hands grasps the top of the frame, thumb poking out from the corner. You tilt your head. “I ain't leaving without him right behind me. I’ll be in contact in a month – if I’m not, then I’m dead already.”

Your chuckle strikes a cord through the room and Soap snorts in answer.

“Glass-half-empty kind of person, then?”

“I’d say,” Gaz mutters.

Continuing, you’re about to say something else – lips already partially parted and breath sucked in – before your eyes lock onto Ghost. The atmosphere of the room flips like the page of a book.

You stare at him with what seems to be a million emotions flying past the glossiness of your optics; lids already peeled back and whites showing in a display that showed more than told. The man could only begin to imagine what you were thinking – how long had it been since he’d seen you last? You’d obviously gotten out of your Marines Special Ops unit.

Not quite how I remember you. It wasn’t hard to recall that small branch of the MRR – Marine Raider Regiment – and how they treated you. But that wasn’t any of his business. He’d been there to do a job, and he’d accomplished it. Quite thoroughly, if anyone would have checked the file after it was all over.

Ghost’s life was counted in the sands of an hourglass, small, molecular, bits hitting the bottom one after the other; rarely was that time wasted on pointless squabbles and words but at that moment, he was conflicted.

The Brit had never expected to see you again, and the sand briefly halted when you spoke. Hm.

Yes, he remembered that voice… he’d just never heard you this confident before.

“Ghost.” He watches the emotions on your face settle, and he was thankful for the mask covering his visage because he knows he would have left at least a small twitch of his lips slip. “Long time no see.”

“Mutt.” The Lieutenant nods in a monotone greeting but notices a slight jerk of your shoulders at the name. His eyebrows furrow, but mentions nothing as his pulse slows.

Your neck moves as you swallow, looking to the side as a dark curiosity fills the space in Ghost’s lungs; head nanoscopically tilting to the side like a vulture.

“Nice seeing you, Bravo-06,” You tilt your head toward the Captain before clearing your throat and addressing Laswell. “I’ll be around.”

It wasn’t hard to tell that the title had made you freak, a kind of bad cloud suddenly springing to life above your head.

Seems to bother her more than being in a Hot Zone, Ghost tells himself, the deep well of dark water in his gut still. That didn’t make any sense. He watches your hand slaps over the computer and the feed goes dark in an instant.

The room is more silent than Ghost is.

“Kate, she’ll need our help.” Price shakes his head from side to side; body moving to the front of the room. “I’m not asking.”

The two talk it over as Ghost’s mind trails, head tilting down more towards his chest as his eyelids narrow.

“Hm,” He grunts, arms tensing as his grip shifts. Soap turns around as Gaz goes to join the conversation between the Captain and the agent.

“What? Know ‘er or something, Lt?” The Scot asks, slapping a hand on the taller man’s arm. Ghost eyes lock on the grip before he blinks, looking back up and leveling the Sergeant with a dead stare. Johnny laughs awkwardly and moves his limb back to his side. “Just…didn’t peg you for the type to start relationships.”

The Lieutenant turns down the aisle of chairs and lets out a bland, “negative. Leave it, Sergeant.”

Why did you react badly to the namesake you’d gone by for the entire time you’d been in Special Ops? Mutt was when everyone had called you when he had been around for that short time.

He felt no great concern for you – no hatred or care – you were just another Agent that would probably end up dead like everyone else. Another time, maybe, he’d have gone in a heartbeat, and if the team decided to go after you, he’d follow. A mission was a mission, it wasn’t like it largely mattered.

But there was something in the back of his mind. Intrigue? Yes, perhaps. The blue-eyed Lieutenant wasn’t one to dwell on these types of things, but a colleague was still a colleague.

Whatever the outcome, he’d do his job with all the ruthlessness and tact he always did.

Ghost’s hand goes up to fix the position of his mask and glances at the blank projector stream, eyes boring into it as they darken. A moment later, he was leaning against the ammunition crate that Price had previously been on, arms crossed and ears twitching at the ongoing battle of wills; isolated to himself as his intimidating form towers ever upwards. Spine straight. Bones stiff. Eyes grim.

You’d been nice to him – a person that, for the limited time he’d interacted with, had left an impression that was only just starting to come back full force. Smart and resourceful; not too bad on the eyes.

He takes down a sigh. Stubborn…but undoubtedly loyal.

His thumb brushes your cheek, and you look up at him as if he wasn’t the one in a mask – as if his entire being was laid bare before you. He swipes away the trail of blood with one firm press. The gentleness of your skin is known even through his glove.

“You’ll live, Sergeant.” He utters, teasing in his monotone voice, “now, where the hell are we goin’? Gun’s itchin’ to lay a few out.”

Ghost would have smirked at the way your eyes dilated if he had the ability, but in the end, he brushes past. Because if he hadn’t, you would have seen his own do the same.

‘Reaper,’ he frowns, feeling the ammunition crate dig further into his hip, they never called you that one.

Perhaps the real battle of wills was happening inside of him – not five feet away between his Captain and his Station Chief.

—

You remember every interaction like it was yesterday, and although he might not, you can’t help the memories from flooding as you gather your gear. Stuffing guns into duffel bags and intel into crossbody sacks that weigh you down like boulders.

Fuck, you open the back window and shimmy out into the back streets, knowing that your position is compromised and not waiting any longer to test your luck. Your side burns something awful; horrible stitches peeling back skin as you groan in pain. What the fuck was Ghost doing with Price? I didn’t know they knew each other. And the two other men in the room…eh. Not the problem right now!

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” you pant, swinging your legs out of the window frame and sharply inhaling when a suture tears. “I’m never in the loop.”

In all honesty, you don’t want to be – too complicated. It’s better to just stick around and be told what to do.

Glaring down at the ground with glazed eyes, you only take a breath of hesitation and let off a curse before dropping.

Your knees take the brunt of the force, and the ricochets of landing on cobblestones travel up your ankles and leave your legs shaking. If you weren’t running on adrenaline, you would have come up with a dirty joke to mutter to yourself.

The discomfort can only last so long, you tell yourself, and ignore the spreading liquid on your side, only thinking of Rigs and the mission.

And Ghost.

Gritting your teeth, eyes vulnerable, you turn down the backroad and stay away from others, drowning in memories more deadly than blood. It had been a while since you had thought of it – the lockbox in the back of your mind keeping all under tight watch; guard dogs with metal teeth and chained necks.

But that title; that namesake you’d scrubbed your skin raw over. Mutt and all the others said in cruel breaths. Oh…but Mutt.

Mutt was the worst of them.

Your hands were vibrating, the tremors traveling up your wrists and arms – past elbows and bruised flesh under skin; bloodied nose and quivering lips. Why did they always yell at you? But worse, why did they always make you do the dirty work?

The Captain, everyone just called him Alke, was standing in front of you, berating your accuracy on the last round of target practice. Fortunately, this deep into the Unit itself, you’d found a way to let it go in one ear and out the next, eyes as blank as a starless sky.

You could see the spittle flying from the man’s lips and some even splashes across your cheeks like acid, but there was something artful to the way you didn't react. A culmination of crafted numbness that bleeds like trauma. It was a constant, everlasting, void.

What they were making you into was not what you wanted, but what possible other option was there? Resign? No, this was nearly an unimaginable position to be in at such an age. You deserve to be here. Should you report the blatant unprofessionalism and favoritism in the ranks? And be blacklisted by these people's friends so that you never ascend the line?

Your ears twitch.

“...You’re not sleeping until your marks are perfect – else we’re overthinking your position in this Unit. Can’t have a Mutt in our ranks, can we?” The last sentence is punctuated with a ruffling of your hair almost like a brother would; teasing, but you know that isn’t what it symbolizes. Harsh laughs and mocking remarks from the bystanders. “Least of all one that’s gonna get us killed. Tch.” When you don’t answer, staring off in a daze at his nose in a perfect image of formation, the Captain raises an eyebrow. “Affirmative,” he smirks, “Mutt?”

“Sir!” Your mouth shouts, though the action is more instinctual as your back straightens. He frowns at that, perhaps wanting to torment you more, but huffs and files out, ordering the rest to follow with one last call.

“I expect you to be up for morning drills an hour early. I’ll be checking your shots myself.”

“Sir!”

After everyone’s gone, you blink back to reality. There’s a second of confusion, creases forming in your forehead at the sound of birds and blowing glass. Head turning side to side, your lips thin at the absence of others as if only realizing how spaced out you’d actually been.

Flashing teeth and heated eyes flash through your mind before you blink them away. Signing away the tense nature of your chest, you clear your throat and relax your legs. Your vision slides to the corners of the concrete dugout, snapping past sectioned-off areas for privacy to search if there was someone who might have stayed back.

Not finding anyone, your hands, clenched behind your back, loosen and fall limp to your sides like bags of rock. One weakly goes to swipe at the trail of blood from your nose, wrecking your already wrinkled sleeve with crimson; but soon an identical trail drips off your chin regardless. Licking your lips and tasting copper, you take a shaky breath and nod to yourself.

You knew what shooting all night would bring on – lesions under the firing pad covering your shoulder; deep-rooted pain leading to nerve damage later on. Blisters that leak puss and blood onto your bedsheets. Not to mention the mental strain, the bags under your eyes burn from lack of rest.

Gritting your teeth, you walk over the tossed rifle on the floor and pick it up with shaky fingers, the tips flinching back from the cool metal before encompassing it tightly.

Silently, you get on your stomach and set the weapon in the crook of your already pain-laced shoulder. Your blood splatters the stock.

—

It had been two weeks with no luck in finding Rigs, and you were starting to get paranoid.

Staring at the dead body tied to the wooden chair, you growl and tear your Dirk from the woman’s chest angrily.

There had been increased police patrols from all the corpses you were leaving, so you’d compromised and limited the chance of being caught at the same time.

Bergamo, Italy, was an ancient place, and the underground was what you were now both metaphorically, and physically, exploiting. Sewer systems. Catacombs. You’d lost track of the paths you’d taken a million times over, and had started to hate the constant darkness only kept back by the small hand lamp you’d stolen.

But there were ups to this constant downward slope.

It made interrogations increasingly easier to pull off with multiple feet of stone all around you. The screams don’t meet the surface.

“Catello Tullio,” you mutter, caressing your sensitive side with your free hand and placing your blade on a turned-over piece of rock. The area reeks of blood and gore, a stack of bodies chucked carelessly in the corner beginning to reek something awful; even as you have another to add to the count. It wouldn’t be long before the rats came in droves.

Another given name, another score. But this one was new. Apparently, the title of the one that took Rigs while he was out getting more rations in the market.

You point a finger at the slumped body, “you better hope I don’t find you in hell if you gave me the wrong damn name.”

Grabbing your light, you stalk off down one side of the tunnel back to your camp, dodging drag lines that strike your eyes with their crimson streaks.

The raggedy blanket and gun-sack you’d been using for a pillow take form in the dark, and somewhere in the corridor a rat squeals; feet pitter-pattering until it disappears altogether. You didn’t even want to think of the spiders living down here. Files and notes are strewn along the floor, perfect hiding places for eight-legged monsters.

You couldn’t do anything until nightfall. It was just too risky.

Massaging your side as you bend down, you grimace at the partially healed wound and scoop up your pistol before plopping to the ground with a grunt. With the deadly object held in your lap, you take a moment to breathe and try to push away a growing headache in the back of your skull.

“This has to be one of the worst Ops on record, huh?” your small voice speaks back to you in bouncing waves of echoes as you begin to fiddle over the gun's small grooves and dents. “How did you manage this, Reap?”

Smiling blandly, the overwhelming quiet and nothingness all around you is like a curse. And in those pockets of a void, your mind always trails to him – or at least it had been for your time on the run. Ghost. That dark and brooding mass of horribly bleak humor and…well…you couldn’t call him mean.

Your eyebrows furrow.

He was never mean to me.

There were soft instances where you would question yourself as to if the Brit had possibly had some affection for you. It wasn’t a long shared history of course, but you had sworn that there was something about the way he looked at you…something that you remember so vividly…

You shake your head and stand after a small while, stretching your feet. Placing your pistol in the back of your belt, the weight brings you dull comfort.

Shining your light on the hand-held radio on the ground in passing, you rove back to it after you scan the perimeter. Its black metal mocks you.

No one’s coming to help ‘cept you. One voice says, and another grunts out, get it together, Mutt.

You turn on your heel to go and take a breather to disperse your dark thoughts but only make it three steps before your eyes widen, lips parting in awe. Nearly falling flat over yourself, you whirl around in an instant.

A static enters the air as if the gods above were laughing at you - toying with your fate like it was a rock tossed to the sky. The familiar British drawl causes your chest to tighten, though the sentence is broken and barely understandable.

Someone’s here for me! A smile slashes your face – fierce hope lighting your eyes. You hadn’t wanted anyone to explicitly come for you, but this was a welcome discovery. Someone to talk to!

“--eper…Copy?” Darting like a cat, you move so fast that you stumble over rocks on the way there. “Lead…cafe…red cloth…Out.”

By the time you snatch the small black object, the garbled and firm tone has already shut itself up. Your mouth parts.

“Shit!” You yell, shaking the thing in your hand with an iron grip, hissing like a snake. You look above you at the cracked ceiling of stone and a growled accusation.“I’m too deep…Fuck. Gotta get up there if I want to be able to respond.”

But it hadn’t all been fruitless. Lead. Cafe. Red cloth. You clip the radio to your belt and make sure your shirt covers your weapon; pat your thigh and tell yourself to stop forgetting your Dirk everywhere before setting off in a jog. The light flashes over dead eyes and stiff bodies.

You snatch the blade off of the stone as you pass it, slipping it into your cut pocket and hearing the satisfying clink of it sheathing.

“Let’s just hope I don’t smell too bad…” You say aloud, chuckling, and listening as the sound echoes off the stone. If no other company, you still had the sound of your own voice.

You couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing. But, you were getting side-tracked.

A Cafe with red cloth, then. Not exactly the place you’d go for an intel swap, but if someone had been trying to contact you for more than a week, you’d imagine they were getting desperate at this point.

If I had known…you frown.

Thinking over the multiple blueprints and pictures of the city in your files, you go through your internal cabinet of knowledge for color schemes - not what you’d have thought you’d be using it for, but, oh well. A lead was a lead.

“Golositá!” You laugh, sudden glee on your face as you dodge a pile of large stones; lips peeling back as you take a fast corner. “Gluttony! Of course, that’s the place.”

The bustling business on the upper side of Bergamo with red table cloths as well as red awnings extending into the street. Anyone would be a fool to miss it.

Like blood lining the street.

You force yourself to run faster.

—

You met him last, despite being a Sergeant. The Captain had you up late last night yet again – running the forest trail this time rather than shooting. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it surprised him when you were still up early with the others; from the looks that he was giving you, you just decided that, yes, he was. Or he was just pissed he didn’t have an excuse to get rid of you.

Blinking away fatigue, you keep your stance relaxed as a gargantuan shadow comes to loom ahead of you.

The man everyone had whispered about called himself ‘Ghost’ and, if nothing more, was certainly intimidating. Shoulders wider than a bench, arms as rounded and as strong as boulders; not to mention the tattoos that made him look like he took cross-country motorcycle rides in his spare time. Tan tactical gear and dark patches for the SAS, the red and white British flag. Gloves covered his large hands, straps carried knives on his biceps and thigh. Something akin to a tan cape that was loose around his hidden neck.

But the mask was what really caught your attention; your head tilting with an innocence that no longer lives in you.

Skeletal. Half a visage of a dead and gone intimidation of humanity. Sewn into a hood of black cloth from which only the eye sockets were open…But the eyes there were no different than if the holes had been empty in the first place; as if the person inside was as dead as sun-bleached bone. Was a corpse piloting this suit?

Ice blue. Freezing blue. Harsh. Colder than a grip of a phantom, you thought as you blinked up at him, colder than the nights you would stay awake working yourself to death. You watched this Ghost’s chest move in a steady inhalation and you stuck out a busted-knuckle hand. Foolish, maybe, but there were worse things to be afraid of than a mask. Then of those eyes that made your spine shiver.

But you didn’t look away.

“Pleasure, Sir.” There was a moment of tense silence where your Captain, at Ghost’s side, was frowning at you silently. The man could say nothing as long as this SAS member was here to assist in your next Op overseas. At your sides, your colleagues on the tarmac shuffle on their feet like nervous penguins.

Ghost glances at your hand, and you try not to show how fast your pulse is running when his eyes leave a cold trail as they grace your split knuckles and torn nails. He ends with a slow look at your name patch.

“Sergeant.” He says and slips past without another word. His shoulder brushes against yours, and you inhale smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. Snickers bounce off air particles, striking your ears as an embarrassed heat rises to your cheeks, but that scent stays in your nostrils for days.

Your Captain scurries after.

“Erm, forgive, Mutt. She’s a helluva strange woman, that one.” You keep your sneer hidden, a hiss lodged in your throat and a twitching finger. But your anger isn’t directed at the masked beast that stalks away. That yapping bully of a Captain would hold all of it as long as you were here.

At that point, you were sure you’d seen the last of Ghost until the Op – not really getting the feeling he’s a people person so much as a ‘give orders and follow them’ type.

But that was fine by you, it didn’t change anything. You’d been told to go back to the firing range tonight for opening your mouth and ‘making an embarrassment of the Unit’....whatever that meant. All you did was welcome the guy with the barest hint of a good attitude.

You supposed manners were a foreign concept around here.

The world ahead of you was blurring, red circles in your eyes that gloss over with water every minute you force yourself to stay awake. The stars were out, sky dark, and the area was only lit by large lights situated around the base. In some sort of strange way, you enjoyed the sound of crickets and the cold breeze over your bare arms as if the only sense of peace you got was when you were half-passed out, nailing shots from a rifle.

The stock was where it always is, your cheek pressed to the side; staring down the scope at the multiple holes in the paper targets. Dots surrounded by multiple other dots like a slice of cheese. You suppose that made you the hungry mouse in that case.

‘A mouse with a fucking day before she drops.’ You frown, blink, and pull the trigger as the trees rustle. The force lands directly on your shoulder – the kickback is usually not one to bother you, but seeing as your appendage was one bad day away from being dislocated and forever damaged – you took it with a grit of your teeth.

And you took it because you knew you could. Just as you knew that you felt a pair of eyes on the back of your neck. Freezing, you remove your finger from the trigger and loosen your grip. Turning your head to the side, a free hand goes up and shifts the ear mufflers from your head to your neck in a single movement.

You swear your heart jumps to your throat when you see a skeleton’s icy blues numbly watching you; arms crossed while a nice-looking SA-B 50 Marksman Rifle sits against the wall at his side. How…long had he been there? Watching?

“What’re you doing, Sergeant?” Ghost asks sternly, that Manchester accent making him sound harsh. Grating like a rock being run against concrete. “I’m sure your Captain wouldn’t be thrilled at a scene like this, eh?”

Blinking, you remind yourself to breathe before answering – voice tough and hoarse.

“I have my orders, Sir. You’re free to join me.”

You turn back as a grunted huff falls from behind muted cloth. Ghost walks up to your laying form, standing on your left side and picking up the binoculars from the hanging hook in your station. As you look back through your scope you don’t know why, but you hold your breath; waiting for something.

“...Not a bad shot. You’re prone to firing more to the right, judging from the grouping. I’d fix that, less you miss a moving target runnin’ the opposite.” He lowers the object - staring from the side of his eye. From your position, your neck cranes to see his fingers twitch. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” For someone you’d expected to be quite harsh – though you had no doubt he still was – Ghost was more sarcastic in his mannerisms.

Backhanded comments that wound sting if you got on the other end of them.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sir.” Shifting your grip, you move the stock farther up your shoulder, feeling an immediate release of tension, though the expansive trauma still leaves needles in your tissue.

“Hm, pay attention and you just might learn something.” You feel yourself quirk a lip for the first time in months; your mouth doesn’t stop to think.

“You mentor a lot of people in the middle of the night, then?”

“Only the ones stupid enough to be awake.” He takes a step back, going to grab his own rifle as his footsteps don’t even make a sound.

‘Quiet for a guy with thighs that could choke me out.’

Your brows furrow at the heated thought, taking a slow breath and flexing your hands as the shadow disappears from over you. Why were your hands sweaty?

Were you…afraid? That…that wasn’t it.

“You’re up too, you know, Sir. Bit hypocritical.” This was the first time you’d had a full conversation with someone since you’d gotten in with this Unit. A mildly pleasant one, at least…you wouldn't really call this bonding.

“I can always leave ya’ to it, Sergeant.” Deadpanning the words, you clear your throat and fall silent at the threat.

‘No,’ you wanted to comment, ‘no, I want the company so badly it hurts.’

You swallow saliva and reposition your ear mufflers back over your head, heart bruising your ribs, as you bring down a calming breath of air to still your nerves.

The two of you don’t speak again, and you don’t ask why he takes the shooting cubby right next to yours, the nose of his rifle peeking out from the concrete wall. You certainly don’t ask why he’s up, either.

And in return, he doesn’t ask you the same.

—

When you find Golositá you’ve managed to sneak through the city unseen, taking every backroad and alley you could as the heat of the day increases to near sweltering. Panting, you stick to the thin shadows of the path across the street, eyes dancing over red cloth and flicking to faces; studying visages as one would a medical report.

Your chest hurts, and you run a hand over your side, feeling the raised skin under your shirt before digging into the aching ribs. All this running around and little food to help keep your normal strength was troublesome, and it would only get worse if this Op from hell continued.

I need new intel. Badly.

About to retreat, not finding anyone you recognize off the bat, a black-shrouded figure kisses the side of your vision as if a phantom.

On the outside table, the farthest removed, a man sits stiffly with an untouched teacup in front of him. Smirking, you can’t help but scoff at the thought of Ghost using the thing – you’d think his thumb and forefinger would break the delicate porcelain in an instant. Like a spine over his thigh.

Your cheeks heat.

He looked almost identical to what you remember – minus the gear, obviously – and your stomach twisted at the thought. Was a simple look enough to bring you to the breaking point? Why were your lungs tight?

As if feeling your stuck eyes, those icy blues shift from people-watching to lock onto yours immediately. As hollow as they always were, it seemed. He blinks and the blonde eyebrows on his sliver of visible forehead move.

Shit. Your hips trade weight. Look at you.

Loose shoulders under a rugged buttoned-down and painted balaclava make your breath go thin, not able to resist sneaking a glance at those tattoos you remember so vividly. Yes, that was still Ghost.

Jesus, is this how it felt to see someone you barely even remembered suddenly appear? Was it elation or caution that was making your heart race?

Ghost doesn’t look surprised. His eyes don’t widen; don’t soften or light up. They blankly watch you as you shake away the shock and raise a brow in return. A sarcastic finger goes to your head, and you mock salute.

What are you doing? You seem to ask, a mischievous expression growing as you start forward when he dismissively narrows his eyes. You look ridiculous. Are you asking to be spotted?

The man leans into the too-small chair he sits in, one hand going to hang off the back and the other resting on the tabletop. Gloved fingers tapping morse in slow measures.

Clear. Come here. He follows you with his gaze, head stationary, as you enter the flow of traffic, smiling at people at your sides and letting off polite greetings when you could. Steadily striding, you weave through groups and individuals like water, legs steady even as your ears pick up every little sound.

A comfortable middle point of visible excitement and strict business. Why were you so…happy?

When you approach Ghost’s table, you slip up beside him with a sly chuckle, pulling out the chair to his right. You, softy, lower yourself down into it, not turning to him but instead simply making sure no one had followed you with a quick scan. His heat only adds to the warmth of the day like a walk through damnation.

“Well, well, well,” you smile, addressing the SAS member with his shadow hanging over you once more; such a heavy thing, though you don’t mind. Your expression mellows to have it above you again. There was a safety to it, you had to admit. The cold comfort of death. “Trip to Italy, Sir? Take a little vacation?”

“Came to bail out a bird from my past,” You smell that scent again – smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. “And if I ever went on a vacation, I sure as hell wouldn’t pick this place. ‘Bout to burst into flames; traumatize a few kids and their mums.”

Hadn’t he changed even a little bit?

“Now that’s dark.”

“Never said it wasn’t.”

Of course he hasn’t, you answer your own question, feet shifting and skin pliable, why would he? He isn’t like me – didn’t have to reinvent himself based on atoms and in the wake of silent nights.

There was a piece of you that believed that Ghost had always been this way, though you knew it was false. Nobody in this profession was just born like this, they were led to it. Whoever it was under the mask or balaclava didn’t matter anymore.

They had died a long time ago.

“Not a fan of the history, Brit?” You tease, bringing up a hand to itch at your undereye, finally taking a peak at the form that nearly swallows you.

Your lids try not to peel back, but you didn’t realize how close you’d sat next to Ghost – any closer and you would be in the crook of his arm; the relaxed spread of his knee bumping into yours and arm over the back of your seat. Trying to act nonchalant, you ignore the strange swirling in your gut with a hum and a twitching of your leg.

Stop that.

“Don’t care a smidge, just not a fan of the damn heat.” The gruff man responds with his inked arm on the table flexing, as though he was tenser than he showed. Ghost clears his throat, “needs a good downpour, eh?”

“Try living underground for two weeks. Literally. Sun’ll feel like a blessing.”

“Fuckin’ hell…That’s why the radio wasn’t working, then.” While this was all cute – re-learning each other like a shaken puzzle – there were dangers to being this open. The Brit would be fine, but if you got spotted, well, there would be worse things to worry about than an achy side and a pile of bodies in a tunnel.

“You got something for me, or are we here just to stand out like bullet holes in a forehead?” Feeling his head tilt to you, snaking down your form, your body leans forward, palms sweaty as they lock on the table. “Price with you? The other two I saw on the feed?”

“Negative. Op in Belarus. Sent me in alone.” Your knees brush, delicately; like a touch of down feathers. You refrain from taking in a shallow breath, knowing he’s analyzing every movement with a hidden mouth and gentle huffs of air that rises his sculpted chest. Through a grunted sigh, Ghost tells, “The Old Man insisted. Laswell thought you’d be alright by yourself, regardless,” and falls silent.

What was he doing? Why was he talking with that rasp in his tone? Your heart swells at the comment about Kate, but a confusing feeling settles in your lower body. Why did the air feel thick?

The warmth of the sun was making your skin perspire, leaving a sheen of sweat over your arms. But the thought of heat stroke fled as you became hyper-aware of the man beside you, keeping careful not to touch you, though his gaze still bore into the side of your face like prodding fingers anyways.

He can’t quite figure you out, he admits to himself. So much of you was different – and he couldn’t tell how.

She’s lighter, he tightens his face, not the same as when I left.

But there had been an utter satisfaction when he’d seen you in that alleyway, even if you were different in a million ways, that would never change. Ghost’s body had loosened, his clenched jaw let go, and snappy answers to servers stopped entirely.

Because those were still the same colored eyes that he remembered. He takes a long breath.

Through the haze under your creased skin, a red alarm starts to sound off. Not because of the confusing way you felt the chilled form of Ghost on a near internal level, but because of the hooded individual across the street.

When your eyes lock, they back up three paces and bolt down the adjacent street, vanishing into the crowd. Your expression darkens, and Ghost shifts his attention from your face to the streets.

His eyes blankly follow where you were looking.

“Come on,” you get to your feet, hand snatching at the SAS member's sleeve, dragging him with you as a mother would a toddler. It was ironic – if he resisted, you wouldn’t be able to force him to move, not in a million years, but he slid off his chair with fluid muscles.

He doesn’t question you when he’s brought into an offshoot of the road, vacant of tourists or locals besides a stray cat and a few scavenger birds. Flies jump off garbage cans, buzzing through the air above your heads as you level Ghost with a serious stare.

You nearly stumble over your words when you get to look at those long blonde eyelashes that you remember heatedly, but push through as they move to half-lid his blank eyes. Your heart skips beats as you spare looks up and down the space.

What the fuck is going on with me? Focus. This is serious.

But, Jesus, he should really stop looking at you like that.

“You said you had a lead over the radio – anything on someone called Catello Tullio by chance?” You ask, voice like stone.

“Tullio?” Ghost hums in the back of his throat, all business, hips moving under him as he goes to glance at the street. His balaclava moves as he speaks. “Someone made a mention of it. ‘Fore I put a knife in ‘em, ‘o course.” Nodding, he huffs out, “On me.”

Turning on long legs, he starts to walk farther down the path, and you follow at his side, peering up and eager to gain more intel. “You’ve caused quite a panic around here, Sunshine. Cell’s terrified of the ‘Reaper.’ I’m nearly impressed.”

He briefly flashes an optic to you, heart betraying him as he remains locked on your lips. Rotating his jaw, he turns back forward.

“Oh, my,” smirking slowly, you roll your eyes, “whatever will I do without your approval, great Ghost.”

“Dunno – kick the bucket probably.” Shaking your head in false annoyance, the slow, mocking, stain in the man’s tone leaks into your very DNA; coating it with honey. Like a warm sunrise, you clock a small hitch in his chest and equate it to muted chuckles when you laugh.

“Don’t go placing bets, now. I’m not so easily broken.”

“Oh, wouldn’t think of it, Sweetheart. Wouldn’t be my handiwork if it happened,” his tone goes light, “don’t wanna take credit away from you.”

“Brit.” You spit with fake venom.

“American.” He grumbles back, but you clock the small spark in his iris, cold blue bouncing silver light like snow.

He sounded…entertained? Snide in a sarcastic way.

Your mouth rises in a stupid, dopey, grin as you stare from the side of your vision, chest jumping in easy comedy. What a strange pair you two were, but you find you liked his company even more, this time around.

Or maybe he had changed slightly. Or maybe it was just you.

At the end of the day, you were relieved that it was easy to talk to him. Conversations with corpses are a bit one sided, after all.

Ghost’s lips had to be at least quirked under that dark fabric to achieve mischief like what he was spitting out, you leveled with yourself. At the minimum, the man wasn’t annoyed he’d been forced out of his own primary mission because of you.

You remember he wasn’t averse to cracking jokes – particularly dark ones – but it had…it had never felt like his before.

Strange, you admit with a raised brow and a cocked head, cheeks burning for no apparent reason. You’d gotten him to chuckle? Holy hell, you deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for that. I’d think he would be pretty pissed about being sent here. He’s never been one to fuck around.

You both continue in easy silence until you decide to speak once more, intent on asking where you were being led.

Ghost’s head had perked up in what you assumed to be soldier-like attention, but then his head had whipped behind the two of you. Oblivious to his shift in mood, like a dark cloud, you open your mouth.

“Well, where are we–”

“--Get down!” Hands slap on the back of your arm and jerk you to the opposite wall as a loud echo rings out. Whizzing over your head so close that you feel the breeze of it.

Gasping, the air is expelled from your lungs in one fell swoop; your spine grating over the rough stone as your legs scramble to keep upright. Wiping away the shock quicker than an eraser over a whiteboard, your neck snaps to the problem; brain already hardwired to get over being shot at and the adrenaline that floods your veins immediately after.

Across the way, Ghost’s fast hand was reaching to the back of his outfit – without a doubt going to grab a concealed weapon. Eyes fiery and arms tight. And as though you were seeing it happen in slow motion, you lock onto the hostile in the middle of the alley back the way you both came. And then onto the hooded silhouette ahead of you.

Boxed in.

Hyperfocused, all of it happens in only three seconds, two trained professionals protecting each other without even realizing it.

One, you realize how this will have to play out if you don’t act immediately. You don’t know how you can trust Ghost to take the other hostile while you focus on the one ahead, but you don’t question it. Two, your gun lays heavy in your hand as your legs pivot. Three, you fire double shots with a loose finger and hear mirrored gunfire from the man beside you.

You don’t bother watching him drop.

Snapping your head backward with a rageful expression to see Ghost’s corpse hit the floor with a cracking of a skull, shouts start to ring over the city. When you lower your weapon, you turn to notice the Birt examining your own downed hostile with a satisfied stare. If you hadn’t had his back, he would have been shot in it.

But what you didn’t know was that he was thinking the same thing about you.

Turning to stare at each other, your widened eyes lock; fingers twitching along the cool X12’s metal as those stormy iris’ only seem to darken further when they dart to your lips. Like staring into a wild animal’s gaze and pretending you’re not in a trance because of it – stuck in that moment of infinity and nothingness with not a single muscle moving. Waiting for either a mouthful of fangs around your supple neck or for the beast to turn away with grace and practiced steps.

You swore Ghost’s mouth parted under that damned balaclava, but whatever he was going to say was lost when the world came back in a violent storm of screams. Panicking, you gape at the entrance – seeing multiple shadows shoving through the crowd to get to you.

“On me!” Keeping your pistol in one hand, you bolt, hearing heavy footsteps pounding behind you as your mind begins to run.

Ghost trails without a single doubt in his mind as to why he’s following you, and it makes him cautious.

Catacombs, you decide, get under the city and backtrack to the outskirts. Survey and have Ghost tell me his intel before making a move…yeah!

“Where are we headin'?!” Ghost shouts, keeping right your heels as you turn corners. Gunshots ring over your heads as you jump up small groupings of tile steps, blood pounding in your ears. You try to remember the maps you had stored in your files underground. Left…no, two rights. Shit! I need to be higher – see the streets like a bird would! “Reaper?!”

“Do you trust me?!” You call over your shoulder, and though it seems deranged, a smile forms over your lips. “I’ll need an answer in the next few minutes, yeah? I’m on a time crunch!”

“What are you on, Girl?” The adrenaline speaks to you, propelling your legs faster and faster. You vault over a fallen trash bin and take the shock to your ankles as it travels to your thighs. Snickering, you feel the brooding man’s presence like you always could – just beside you like a loyal hound. His focus excites you as you put your gun away in the small of your back. “Bloody hell! Not giving me a choice?”

“Not if you don’t want to get shot in the ass!” Taking one more right, you find yourself rapidly approaching a dead end, tall walls, a balcony, and a large dumpster – the flap already closed overtop. Not answering the man as he barks out a comment, you throw yourself atop it with a puff of breath and spasming lungs.

Laughing, your hands don’t falter. Reaching up with eager fingers, you grab at the black metal front of the balcony a small distance above and suck down a hot breath. Your arms strain, sickly sweet sweat on the top of your lip, and eyes wide with glee despite the gaining footfalls rising like a battlefield cry. Jerking your body up with only your upper-body strength, you slide your abdomen over the railing with barely a second passing. Once your feet are firmly on someone's property, you twist around and slap your hands to the metal with a twinkle in your vision; face wrinkled with all the animated amusement.

A wide grin is stuck on you.

Ghost stares up with slightly widened eyes from the ground, arms poised on the garbage bin.

Oh, hell, when she smiles like that…

“But I can’t judge, can I?” Teasing, you extend a helping grip with a smirk. “Everyone has their fetishes, hm, Ghost? Maybe yours is just having a gun pointed at you.”

He blinks at that, but knowing the urgency in the back of your throat, he pushes himself up with a grunt. You try not to watch his muscles strain, but spy the way the veins in his forearms grow larger as his alluring hips flex. They situate themselves under him as he crunches before straightening in an instant.

Fuck, don’t drool, you scold, lips lightly parted like seven devils were flying in the back of your mind. Jesus, imagine the weight those things can carry…shit. Wouldn’t mind losing my virginity to that.

A leather-coated hand slaps into your awaiting one. You snap back to a screaming reality and stare down into hypnotic sheens of ice and…wait…did Ghost have fucking green flecks near his pupils?

“You sure it isn’t yours, Sunshine?” He harshly comments, and his balaclava moves with a rising of his eyebrow.

Clearing your throat, you murmur a weak reply as your face begins to feel like a blazing fire, squeezing his limb before pulling. He chuffs. Grunting violently, you know he does most of the work in helping himself up, though the Brit still slaps your shoulder in comradery when he’s stable. Kneeling down, he forces himself into the wall behind the two of you, fingers weaving to create a cuff over his knee.

Tossing his head up, he motions with urgency.

“C’mon. Be quick ‘bout it.”

Catching one foot in the basin of his clutch, you force down your illicit thoughts about Ghost and jump, pushing off with your opposite leg on his shoulder and his added boost. Scaling the wall, you arch and scramble - with a growing bite in your side – to the terracotta-shingle roof.

Following after and checking your six, the beast of a man joins just in time.

Shadows dart around the corner far on the ground, and the both of you are speeding animals over the rooftops in the meantime. Against better judgment, boots pounding the tiles, you release loud bouts of genuine laughter.

How long had it been since you’d had such fun? Enjoyed someone else's company like this? Running across homes, you look at your side, only to find Ghost’s eyes already digging into you. Unrelenting. Unmovable. Panting, you smile brightly, giggles making your sides hurt something awful but your pace doesn't slow for an instant.

All it took was a glance at the streets – you know where you are now.

“Enjoying yourself, Reaper?” He asks, arms pumping and barely winded, and you wonder for a moment how he breathes under that covering of his – it had to smell horrible by the end of the day.

“For…the first time in ages, Ghost.” He chuckles at that, and it is a betrayal of his nature. How could someone so violent, so cloaked in oceans of blood, produce such a soft sound? A genuine sound that makes your stomach flip?

His bewitched eyes rove back in front of him, and he can’t deny the simplicity of speaking to you. It wasn’t a chore, just a conversation with a person who he wouldn’t mind having on 141 at his side.

There were few people worthy of that.

You swallow thickly and take point, leading the shadow of death to your home underground so you can re-evaluate.

You can only wonder why you don’t feel nervous as he watches over you, skin marked with horrors but his hand had fit so well in your own. And you also wonder how you can come to care for someone you haven’t seen in ages so quickly, as if you’d both been around each other for years.

Had you really ever forgotten him? Or just tried to push the affection, both emotional and physical, for him out? But that was the problem, you tell yourself with a clenched jaw, that physical attraction. All of that was just…tied into a million knots. Complicated.

You’d never had sex before.

And, Ghost questioned himself as he watched your legs move, did he forget you out of necessity? Because those eyes of yours won’t leave him alone, and he so very much enjoyed looming over you.

He sighs heavily and follows in silence.

—

When you first joined them, they all created rumors. This was long before you were permitted solo Ops, long before half of your file was filled and bleeding with black ink that would shame a warlord. When everyone just thought you were signed up because you were some unhinged kid, brimming with unchecked problems and willing to throw everything away just for the chance to prove yourself. Who got into it for kicks.

They would say you enjoyed it, killing. Reveled in it, really. That it got you off when you were covered in blood and crimson guts as they pooled at your feet.

You suppose that was what turned you away from sex in general – those heavy comments said with no remorse that stuck with you. It was fear almost, a genuine twisting of your mind to make it your fault. It wasn’t your fault, you knew that; you could sleep with anyone you wanted and the comments weren’t a brand on your skin.

You could forget about it. You should.

But the words were so mean. Just cruel for the sense of being cruel. And it stuck with you.

If that was all anyone would see, why try and force them to look away? You kept to yourself, never spoke unless spoken to, and shoved all of it down like a kill switch. No sex, no relationships. Nothing to make you think about the rumors.

Getting off on death? You were horrified at the concept, horrified that people would play around like that with you – with your life!

You just ended up telling yourself you wouldn’t feel it until it hurt too bad. In a way, you were right…but you can only force emotions down for a while until they break forward like a fist to the mouth.

Besides Mutt, they had many names for you – titles and backhanded monikers. Rabid. Demon. Devil. Monster. Sometimes, beast.

But they all had the same meaning. Inhuman. Wrong.

It shouldn’t have bothered you that much. It…It shouldn’t have made you stay up at night still thinking about the way they would laugh and pinch your arms as you were left shaking; drowning in gore not your own because they sent you into the heart of the Hot Zone for a few jokes. Teasing you about how you probably touched yourself because of it.

But it was just an excuse to make you too scared to leave. Your reputation…

“There’s that Devil for ya’, always ready to slit some more throats for us. You think you could do the next few, Mutt? You’ll love it, I know you will. I’ll give you a good report if you do it without alerting the guards – see there… ‘Course you will. Fucking freak.”

Your eyes stare forward blankly, Dirk leaving a dotted fluid trail over the dusty ground.

Why did they do this to you?

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(sorry that some of these don't work! I have no idea why!)

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adhd-languages · 3 months

Text

Keeping up your Languages when you’re Busy

Confession: I’ve been slacking on Japanese recently because my life has been so hectic recently. So here are some of the ways I’ve been trying to keep it in my brain when I can’t dedicate a lot of time to studying.

CHANGE YOUR PHONE LANGUAGE

This applies to computers as well! This is the easiest way to ensure you see at least some of your target language every day. It’s good for any level, even beginners.

If you haven’t already done this, do it now. I understand that some things are important and you need to be sure you understand them — in that case, you can always change individual apps to have different languages, just look up the app name in settings.

Podcasts/Music

Find some podcasts in your target language and listen to them before bed, during your commute, whatever. There are lots of podcasts made specifically for learners, or you can look up topics in your target language to find a podcast you might enjoy.

Music is also an amazing way to hear your target language being used. If you find an artist you like, that’s another good way to study your TL! Follow them on socials, look up interviews with them, etc.

Talk to Yourself

Any spare minute you have, talk to yourself in your target language. It doesn’t need to be out loud. You can have a conversation with yourself, try to express how you’re feeling, make up stories, or just describe the things around you in your target language. This is also a good way to see what kind of vocabulary you’re missing.

Apps

Duolingo has fired a ton of translators and started using crappy AI translations — so they’re probably not the best choice.

I’d recommend dictionary app that has some sort of flash card feature is also good, or an anki deck. Drops is good, and has a lot of languages, but keep in mind you’ll need audio. Anything that’s easy to get out and do for even just a few minutes is perfect.

Apps won’t teach you a language on their own, but doing a little every day helps remind me the language exists and keeps it in my mind.

Texting/Writing/Posting

Whether your friends know your TL or not, force them to experience it by randomly messaging in Japanese! Or, if you feel fancy, download an app like “HelloTalk”, “Tandem”, “Speaky”, “Tabee”…there are a lot.

If you keep a digital journal (like I do…inconsistently), try to write some entries in your TL.

If you have a blog, which I assume you do, post in your TL. Even if you’re a beginner, you can make a sideblog dedicated to saying stuff like “I’m hungry” and “Green is my favourite colour” in your target language.

Open your notes app and just write random words you can remember or sentences you can string together.

I know it’s really difficult, and don’t beat yourself up because you aren’t studying as hard. A language can be a lifelong companion — you’ll have phases of studying constantly, and sometimes it’ll take the back seat, but there’s no rush to learn it. Have a great day :)!

#language #language learning #langblr #languages #learning japanese #learning Spanish #learning French #Quinn posts #language learning apps #language learning resources #language learning advice #language tips #foreign languages #language resources #studyblr #100

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charlesf1leclerc · 10 months

Text

KEEPING UP WITH THE LECLERCS

Warnings- poorly translated French, childbirth, not very well edited, cuteness, babies idk ahha I think that’s it

Summary-The little moments of welcoming Charles and y/n’s first child into the world

Finding out your pregnant

You and Charles and been together for years. Dating two years before he proposed to you and you became Y/n leclerc. Charles always wanted to be a dad he loved growing up with his brothers and always dreamed of having a few little kids so they could replicate the relationship he and his brothers had. You and him had decide to spend the first year of your marriage together being in the ‘ honeymoon stage’ although you had gotten off any sort of birth control months ago because whatever will be will be that’s your motto.

Now at the age of 24 and 25 here you were about to be parents, well 9 months away from being parents. You leaned on the bathroom counter as Charles stood in front of you holding the stick that read two lines ‘Pregnant’. You and Charles were going to be parents. You were going to have a little cute tiny baby. Charles was going to be a dad and you knew he would be the best dad, everyone saw the way he acted with kids in the paddock it always made yo ur heart hurt and your ovaries explode but you knew one day it would happen for you and that day was today.

“ We’re gonna be parents Cherie! You’re gonna be a mummy” He had a glimmer in his eye or maybe it was a tear but either way he was over the moon.

“ and your gonna be a daddy, the best daddy”

He moved forward to put the test down on the counter and put his hands on your stomach

“ I can feel it, it’s in there, baby”

“ Charles that’s just my stomach rumbling, there is something in there but the baby is to small for that to be what your feeling” I laugh

“ shh let me have my moment, I’m gonna be a daddy, our little boy”

“ so it’s a boy” I raised an eyebrow

“ well I have brothers so it’s understandable for it to be a boy the baby is my child”

“ ok whatever you say leclerc, now can we please eat dinner now or anything I’m starving”

“ 5 more minutes” he said still holding his hands on my stomach

Yeah he’s going to be the best dad

Telling friends and family

Charles could not wait to tell his friends and family about the baby, but of course you made him wait because you wanted to wait until you were at least 12 weeks to tell anyone like it was recommended. So as soon as you were 12 weeks charles was already organising how he was going to tell everyone.

First he told his mum and brothers. He had taken you all out for dinner all families. You both sat at the table next to each other and when he squeezed your hand you knew what he was going to do. He coughed to get the attention back into him.

“ uh…. I have an announcement, me and Y/n have an announcement I mean” he spoke

“ omg a divorce, uh it was only o a matter of time, y/n just know that I am hear for you your going to be ok without him” Arthur spoke coming to rest a hand on my shoulder

“ what no no we are not getting a divorce sit back down” Charles looked irritated at the younger brother

“ don’t get to defensive y/n will come to her sense’s one day” Arthur spoke

“ shh thur, yes Charles we are listening” Pascale broke the brewing argument apart

“ well me and y/n are going to have a baby” Charles revealed

“ oh my Charles that’s amazing I couldn’t be more proud” Pascale jumped up to hug her son and daughter in law giving them multiple kisses

“ aww damn y/n now your really tied down to him no escaping now” Arthur still got up to hug you though but received a slap on the back of the head from Charles

“ fermez-la” ( shut up ) Charles growled

“ I’m so happy for you guys, uncle Enzo sounds pretty good to me” Lorenzo stood up hugging you and patting Charles on the back.

Having their good blessings meant the world to you and Charles it made very thing 100 times better.

As well as his family he also had his other family his off grid friends Joris, Riccardo and Marta .you were currently all at Marta and Riccardos house in Monaco all sat springs the living room. And just like with the family Charles speaks up.

“alors nous avons une petite nouvelle à vous annoncer” (so we have abit of news to tell you).

“ pourquoi avez-vous toujours des nouvelles” ( why do you guys always have news ) Joris responds humorously

“ Eh bien, je pense que tu vas aimer cette nouvelle”( Well I think your going to like this news ) Charles smiled

You handed Charles the ultrasound picture and he took it from you before laying it out on the coffee table

“ Qu'est-ce que c'est ça “ ( what’s this ) Marta spoke as she leaned toward to pic up the image holding it in her hands

“est-ce que je pense que c'est? es-tu enceinte” ( is this what I think it is are you pregnant ) she questioned

“ oui” ( yes ) I replied

“ eeeeee “ Marta jumped up to run and hug me and jump around

“ Bravo mec” ( congrats mate ) Riccardo and Joris got up to congratulate their friend

“Attends tu dois voir ces petits vêtements de bébé y/n chaira a grandi si vite j'ai des sacs et des sacs de vêtements à te donner” ( Wait you have to see these little baby clothes y/n chaira grew so fast so I have bags and bags of clothes to give you ) Marta was definite more excited then anyone else so far.

“ il y aura des meilleurs amis comme nous “ ( there going to be best friends just like us ) I smiled back at her

“ aww c'est le meilleur bews jamais “ ( aww this is the best news ever ) she squealed as I followed her up stairs

“ Préparez-vous mon ami pour les hormones, puis les pleurs sans fin et les changements de couches de ce bébé “ ( Prepare yourself my friend for hormones and then endless crying and diaper changes from that baby ) Riccardo patted Charles on the back

“ Tout en vaudra la peine même si cela ne me dérange pas” ( It will all be worth it though I don’t mind ) Charles smiled to himself

But the hardest challenge was telling the other drivers so you left that up to Charles. This time it was very much informal. He simply told them when he saw them on that track not really wanting to make to big of a fuss in public places as you still had yet to announce your pregnancy.

First was Max.

To say he was excited was an understatement. He was over the moon for you and Charles already taking about how the baby and Penelope could be the best of friends and how he and Kelly would be able to babysit whenever they need. Being a kinda stepdad to Penelope meant max already has experience with kids so he was already giving tips and offering advice

“ I’m sure Kelly has heaps of bags of P’s old clothes we could give you and y/n” max offered

“ That’s very nice I’m sure y/n would love to look through that with Kelly one day, but we may not need it as I’m sure it’s a boy, just a feeling” Charles replied

“ every man thinks he wants a son until he gets a daughter and then he realised he can never live anything more trust me” max leant out his hand to rest on Charles shoulder again giving him his congratulations.

Carlos and lando were well carlos and lando about the whole situation.

“ hey my man does have some skills in him, I’m proud of you my friend” carlos said about the whole announcement.

“ that baby is going to be so attractive like look at you and look at y/n”…. “ hey watch it norris trays my wife and baby your talking about”

“ what I was only telling the truth” he replied like a child who had been scolded

“ so do you know the gender? A little Leclerc or a little y/l/n?” Carlos inquired

“ no we don’t yet and either way it’s going to be a little leclerc you dumbass” Charles laughed

“ yeah yeah you know what I meant” Carlos rolled his eyes.

Telling pierre was probably the highlight to Charles his best friend for many years. He was so excited to break the news and see his reaction.

“ Sweet man your gonna be a dilf” wa Shia first answer to the reaction

“ uh what’s that? “ Charles asked

“ or maybe you’ll just be a weird old man who can’t keep up with the trends” Pierre patted his back sympathetically

“ wow thanks for the support my friend”

“ no really I’m happy for you guys, and for myself of course I’m going to be the cool uncle and now I get to hang with a baby but also be able to give it back and not have to worry about it myself”

“ remind me to never let you be alone with my child” Charles looked judge meant all at pierre

“ what are you saying I’m not the god father?” Pierre put his hand to his chest in fake offence

“ calm down I’m not saying anything yet drama queen”

“ yes that’s right I’m the queen of godfathers” Pierre shouted and Charles face palmed himself in the face. This was the guy who was his best friend…

Gender reveal

Today was the day. The day that Charles was so much more excited for than anyone else in the whole wide world. Your gender reveal. You had decide to do an intimate reveal just the two of you. You were going to do the trend with the wine glasses and the cake where you put the glasses in the cake and pulled it out to reveal the coloured dye within the cake.

Currently you and Charles were sitting in your back garden in a picnic rug ready to reveal the gender of your little bean.

“Still think it’s a boy” I inquired

“ yes but I really don’t mind either way Cherie as long as I have you and this baby I’m happy” Charles leaned in to give you a kiss on the lips

“ now can we please get on with this I need to knowwwwww” you laughed at his excitement as he was practically going to burst with anticipation

“ yes yes ok let’s look away and put our glasses in” you both turned away from the cake

“ you ready?” You asked

“ yes hurry up”

You both put your glass into the cake

“ 3,2,1”

Pink the icing was pink you were going to have a little baby girl

“ a girl” Charles remarked

“ a girl” you replied with a big grin on your face

You both leaned in to hug one another charles planting a kiss on your forehead

“ your not upset it’s not a boy” you inquired still engulfed In his arms

“ a friend once told me a man always once a boy until he has a daughter and realised he can never love anything more, so no Cherie I’m not upset one bit”

Baby preparation

The next few months we’re hectic with Charles attending races and you staying home to work on the nursery and get things done and ready for the baby, all with the help from yours and Charles family’s and Charles himself of course as he spent every minute he was home doing something baby related.

The room was coming along nicely. It was very girly and it was just they way Charles wanted it. From the flower wallpaper and little pink blankets to the thousands of colourful outfits in the far to big closet for a baby. Charles instigated on buying anything he saw for the baby from toys to clothes and anything to make her room even more beautiful than it was. “ it needs to all be fit for a princess” he would say . And of course you let him do it thing because really how can you say no to him

“ we need a name” you spoke up one night when you and Charles were sitting on the couch after dinner. Your legs were drawn over his lap and he was rubbing circles on your thighs

“ I suppose we do, right now?” He replied

“ well not right now but we do need some ideas”

“ I think I want her middle name to be Jules if that’s ok with you” he looked over at you

“ of course that’s such a pretty name and a nice meaning for you and her too”

“ I’ve always kinda known I wanted to incorporate that into my child’s name if your sure your ok with that” he looked into your eyes

“ of course i am it’s beautiful” you replied moving to snuggle further into him as he smiled and kissed top of your head.

The arrival

It was a warm night in Monaco. June 16th to be exact. You and Charles were well asleep until you were woken up to a sharp pain in your stomach. Your eyes shot open and you places your hand onto your swollen belly.

You leaned over to see the time read 1:45am. You didn’t want to wake Charles yet incase it was only Braxton hicks you were feeling so you attempted to go back to sleep.

1:50

1:55

2:00

2:05

2:15

It was to much you couldn’t take it and that when you felt it. The cold drizzle of water down your leg and onto the bed sheets below you.

That’s it

“ Charles” you gently shock him

“Mmm” he hummed

“ Charles my water broke”

“ WHAT” he jumped up

“ my water broke she’s coming”

“ ok ok calm down it’s alright you, you put some clothes on and I will get the bag then meet you in the car” he spoke frantically

I got out of need to put some sweats and a jumper on I didn’t really care about my apparence at this point in time.

But Charles was still pacing around the house

“ Ok si seulement je peux me rappeler où j'ai mis ce foutu sac” ( ok if only i can remember where I put that bloody bag ) he mumbled to himself

“ it’s on the bench by the door over there” I spoke up from the bottom of the stairs and he jumped in fright

“ Cherie don’t sneak up on me like that, ok ok I got it let’s go let’s go move women”

I smacked his head“ you will not rush me Charles Marc Herve Perceval leclerc”

“ ok sorry darling my bad” he spoke as he rubbed where I had slapped him.

3:30

3:35

3:50

4:00

4:30

“ Charles how could you do this to me” I yelled all sweaty as I pushed a live human beating from me.

“ I know I’m very sorry, if I could take this all away I would” he spoke as he was rubbing my hair and holding my hand at the same time. His poor hand was probably broken by now

“ well you can’t physically take the pain away cause your a boy so SHUT UP DONT MAKE PROMISES YOU CANT KEEP”

“ ok ok Cherie I’m sorry I’m sorry but she’s nearly here you’re doing amazing”

“ it hurts Charles it really hurts, I don’t think I can do it”

“ no none of that yes you can your the strongest women I know, she’s nearly here ok just think about how cute she will be and how excited you will be when she’s here” he softly stroked your head.

“ ok mrs Leclerc one more push ok you can do it hun”

“ see one more push you got this you can do it” he whispered encouraging

I pushed as hard as I could then I heard the little cries. I feel back into the bed tears flowing down my face. Happy tears.

“ you did it shes here omg she’s beautiful”

“ here you go momma your beautiful baby girl” the nurse spoke as she placed your daughter on your chest

“ Charles look she has your nose”

“ she’s… she’s”

You looked up at Charles and he was crying unable to get the words out

“ she’s you Charles she’s gorgeous” you cried as well

“ hi baby I’m your daddy”

“ the best daddy” you smiled

“Cherie I now know what max was talking about” he smiled stroking your daughters head

“ welcome to the world Indy Jules leclerc” you whispered

And like that the Leclerc family had started to form

———————————————————————

Tysm for reading I hope you enjoyed! Pls feel free to leave requests for this story in my inbox or any little messages you have you can leave in my request inbox as well xxx

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charmedreincarnation · 11 months

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⭐️ my void sucess story ⭐️

Hi Maya! I entered the void last night using this (https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/717982229971730432/fulfillment-x-i-am-technique) and this (https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/718301527748608000/shifting-recourses-wposts ) post, so tysm!

I won’t get to into it, but I am living my best life despite all the doubts I had about the void. I always knew it was real but I was scared I would not be able to do it. If you’re someone who struggles with the logic behind this phenomenon I suggest reading that post, and also reading @gorgeouslypink blog. I think both Maya and pink understand and acknowledge that this stuff “isn’t natural” (in a human and logical sense) but also encourage us to both appeal to our logical mind and spiritual one as well. But I kind of do want to breakdown what I did, bc it was always annoying how some anon stories didn’t explain what they did lol.

⭐️I suggest reading one peice of Neville Goddard’s work. You don’t have to of course. You don’t even have to apply loa, but trust me it’s the shortcut to this type of stuff. I really liked at your command, and the power of imagination if you want recommendations.

⭐️read this (https://www.tumblr.com/gorgeouslypink/710749646282227712/doubts )post about doubt by pink. Don’t just read it, understand and internalize it. If you don’t and keep re-reading it until you do.

⭐️use some subliminals if you want.i know people say don’t put methods above you, but ehhh :// I just like to listen to music and it won’t hurt as long as you know you choose if they work or not with your assumption. I really like slade, solar subs kira’s domain (yes the scammer but her subs still work pretty well) and v1per, but use whoever you trust

⭐️find logical reasoning to help you come to terms with the fact it’s real. Pink talks about some on her page, and so does Maya. I used the technique I shared in the first paragraph which reminds me of a lazy sats, and combined that with my subliminal usage and after a week it worked

⭐️shifting methods are your best friend. There are so many great methods so find one that resonates with you. Also the shifting community is very open minded and not limited in any way, which is nice. They’re also starting to talk about logic and the law which is awesome. Again this (https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/718301527748608000/shifting-recourses-wposts) post has both resources for the logical and spiritual mind, stuff about the law, methods, and stories.

⭐️stick to 1-2 bloggers who help you feel the most motivated. Most bloggers say the something anyways so it won’t help you that if you read 100 bloggers instead of one. I obviously preferred pink and Maya but choose whoever you want!

Anyways, most importantly I manifested a complete change in my life. Nothing is the same so don’t limit yourself. From the way I look, to where I live, my career, age, love life, wealth, social life, family, friends, nothing is the same. Also I was 30 but I revised my age to 25. I’m just adding this so you know it’s not only kids dabbling in this special amazing ability! I also had very hard circumstances, ranging from poverty, assault, and depression. Most people in the world struggle, no one is struggling alone. Don’t let that victim mentality stop you from living your best life.

I know I say the same thing every time, but I’m genuinely happy and proud of you! Thank you for sharing all your amazing tips and recourses, and I hope you continue to always live your best life and it only gets better!

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #void success

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marksmelodies · 7 months

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for better, for worse

idol chenle x fem reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff

warnings: cussing, mentions of sex, unprotected sex,

—————————————————————————

you and chenle have been fighting a lot lately, everything you say to eachother ends up in a argument. it’s a never ending saga of screaming, fighting, threatening to break up, making up, having sex, then fighting again and so on.you currently were staring at the clock on the wall as chenle was thrusting in and out of you, wishing was that it would be over soon.you love chenle and you love your sex life with him but recently it seemed like a sympathy card and nothing more.the two of you used to have so much chemistry, your sex was amazing, you two were so passionately in love, but now you both seemed burnt out.

chenle was chasing his orgasm, thrusts were becoming rushed and messy, headboard smashing against the wall, it seemed as if he was just eager to blow off steam rather than actually wanting to have sex with you.the two of you fought earlier due to chenle blowing you off again for work, you tried your best to be understanding of his job, you knew how much it consumes his life, but when he’s blowing you off every single day it’s really hard to justify it, selfishly you wanted him to focus on you more than work.when you brought it up to him he got defensive and started yelling, which caused you to get angry and the whole situation escalated very quick leading to screaming, cussing and slamming doors.

you looked at him and wondered if you two would ever go back to how you used to.once he finished he laid down back facing you not saying a word, the next thing you know you hear soft snores coming from him.you walked to the bathroom and turned the shower on, feeling a little sore from chenle taking out his anger on you.

as the water hit your back, you begin to sob, knowing the love of your life is slipping away was the worst feeling in the entire world. you wouldn’t blame him though, your relationship had become extremely toxic.a few moments of you crying you hear the bathroom door open.

“ i’m coming in i have to piss” you hear chenle say softly

you quickly get ahold of yourself “ go ahead ” you respond your voice shaking a little.silence fell between you two for a few moments until he speaks up.

“ it’s because of me right”

“ what”

“ your crying that hard over me… over us” you go silent again not knowing what to say, that’s when chenle steps in the shower fully clothed saying nothing, just grabbing you pulling you into a hug.you take a minute to process what’s happening you feel the man in your arms start to shake before hearing him wail, in all of the years you’ve been together you have never once seen him cry so hard.you both stand in the shower with the water running embracing eachother as you two sob.he finally looks up at you with red eyes and quivering lips

“ please don’t leave me” he cried into your shoulder

“ shhh baby everything’s going to be okay”

“ but it’s not, it’s not y/n and i don’t know how to fix it”

you both soak in this very vulnerable moment and decide to sit down and have a conversation when you were done.

“ first of all chenle i’m not leaving you, i don’t know where you got that from but when i promised you forever i meant it”

“ second of all, i think we need to go to couples therapy” you say to him. he just stared at you

“ i think it’ll help, really, a friend of mine recommended me a good therapist. i’m going to fight for us chenle and i’ll do whatever it takes”

“ me too, i’ll go if that’s what you think will help”

“ i really do babe, i think it’ll help a lot” that night you two were making some sort of progress even though it doesn’t mean much because you knew at some point you two would regress and go back to square one but you had a glimpse of hope this time.instead of spending the night at your friends place avoiding chenle which would usually happen around this time of night.you lay cuddled on the couch watching a movie, you can feel chenle shifting as if he was uncomfortable.you got up to get him some water, when you came back chenle was standing up looking a little frantic.you were confused until you saw the tent in his pants.

“ really lele” you roll your eyes

“ you can never keep it in your pants” you laugh to yourself.

“ i’m sorry babe it just happens, i’ll go take care of it in the bathroom i’ll be right back” he says at you frown at him.

“ i mean you could do that or i don’t know you have your turned on girlfriend standing right in front of you” you smirk,he walks over to you picking you up making his way to the bedroom.throwing you down on the bed, immediately smashing his lips onto yours, grinding his clothed dick onto you as you moan into his lips, driving him crazy.

“ fuck i cant take it anymore” he rips your shirt and shorts off, taking your under garments with it too, leaving you completely naked.kissing a trail down your body he lifts your hips up a little to make you comfortable as he licks a stripe down your pussy

“ oh my god chenle” you moan, he smiles at you before diving completely into your heat, sucking at your clit you arch your back, lacing your fingers into his hair he pulls you forward flicking his tongue back and forth.you feel your orgasm building up, “ babe i’m coming” you scream as you release all over his face.you lay there catching your breath, for the first time in a very long time you felt content in the bedroom, for the first time in months he actually made you finish.chenle takes one if your legs lifting it onto his shoulder as he places his other hand on your waist, thrusting into you “ oh my god babe you’re so wet for me” he says as your hands grip the bedsheets, he flips you around arching your back for him he slams into you again with no warning, earning screams from you.continuously hitting your g spot you feel yourself about to cum again

“ chenle im gonna cum” you cry

“ wait for a little longer babe i want to come together”chenle has you a squirming mess under him, he has to keep one hand on your lower back keeping you arched as the other one is on your waist.

“ lele i cant hold it anymore please” is you beg

“ be a good girl y/n, i’m almost there” squeezing your eyes shut he turns you around again

“ look at me baby i wanna see you when we cum” chenle takes both of your legs bending them into your chest as he thrusts as hard as he can,his trusts become sloppy as he lets low groans out of his mouth.

“ fuck baby you ready” he asks

“ yes yes please”

“ cum for me babygirl” he demands as you both finish at the same time.chenle collapses onto you, not taking himself out of you yet.

“ fuck baby that was so good” he whispers kissing your neck

“ that’s the best sex we’ve had in so long” you smile

“ i know love, we definitely needed that”taking himself out of you he cleans you up and joins you back in bed.

“ i love you so much sweet girl, i promise we will make it through this rough patch” he kisses your forehead.

“ i know we will lele, i love you too”

** a year later**

you and chenle did end up going to couples therapy and it has changed your relationship for the better.you two haven’t gotten into fights since, you are in the honeymoon stage all over again, and let’s just say you two can’t stay off of eachother, you feel like teenagers again.the romance has sparked in your relationship again and it has never felt better.

you were currently joining him on his europe leg of his tour. waking up next to your man every morning in a new place had been a dream come true.today you were in paris , chenle had soundcheck and dance practice but other than that you had the night to yourselves since his show wasn’t until tomorrow.you stayed in bed most of the day catching up on rest until you receive a text from your boyfriend telling you he made dinner reservations tonight and to dress fancy.

you quickly got up and started getting ready.a few hours later you were finally ready as chenle made his way to pick you up.he was dressed in a nice white button down shirt and black slack pants, it took everything in you not to jump his bones right then are there.

the night was beautiful, he rented out the rooftop of a very fancy restaurant looking out onto the Eiffel Tower which shimmered every so often and had music playing soft instrumentals.you were left speechless.chenle however seemed a little nervous and quieter than usual.

finishing up your dinner you looked to your boyfriend.

“ chenle this is amazing really, thank you so much”

“ you deserve everything and more my love” he kisses your hand. you smile at him as he falls quiet again.he clears his throat.

“ let’s go look at the view huh” he suggests. he walks with you hand in hand as he leads you over to the edge of the rooftop.standing under a beautiful arch with vines and fairy lights you look at the Eiffel Tower in awe.

“ it’s so beautiful chenle, i’m never going to forget this moment” you turn to him and notice he’s not beside you anymore.confused you turn around to find him kneeling down on one knee holding out a small box with a beautiful diamond ring in it.

you gasp covering your mouth with your hands as tears stream down your cheeks.

“ y/n i have loved you from the moment i met you, never in my lifetime have i experienced a love greater than yours, we’ve been through so much together, i know that we can face whatever the world throws at us as long as we are together, i love you more than words can describe you have my whole heart, you have changed my life and i will forever be so grateful, through good seasons and bad i will always be by your side, i can not wait for our future together. (your full name) will you marry me?”

“ yes a million times yes” you say without hesitation as he slides the ring onto your finger pulling you into a kiss. you wrap your arms around his neck embracing him tightly.

“ i know we already promised forever a long time ago but i thought a big shiny ring would be a nice touch” chenle jokes as he kisses you again.

“ i cant wait to spend the rest of my life with you zhong chenle.”

—————————————————————————thank you for reading, i hope you enjoy!!!

#nct dream #nct dream fanfic #nct dream imagines #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct #nct dream smut #nct scenarios #chenle x reader #chenle angst #nct angst #nct dream angst #chenle #chenle x you #zhong chenle

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itzalizeyyy · 11 months

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hii, its alizey here! In this blog, I have copied and pasted common questions and amazing great answers and explanations to those questions. I will credit every single answer to the right blogger. I strongly recommend to go check them out.

This is meant to decrease the frequent common questions being asked. If your question hasn’t been answered here, I am still trying to add more when I can but you can always ask me or other great non-dualism bloggers.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Q&A

“Hey so lets say i become aware of sth i dislike. That doesn’t mean it exists if i don’t want it to? I can simply switch my awareness to being aware that it doesn’t exist?”

“consciousness doesnt dislike it, its ego that has opinions and dislikes things. if u i observe/become aware of it, it exists but it will never be real bc nothing is ever real. it “existing” is just you being aware of it its nothing serious. but yeah being aware of something else and not the thing that ego dislikes makes it not exist anymore” - @msperfect777

“What if I want to be an actor and then be in a relationship with a celebrity? I'm new in the non-dualism so idk too much.”

“imagine it. if u dont understand then read my non dualism series on my pinned post bc thats what its there for” - Msperfect777

“I have a df, and I'm confused bc in loa they tell you that you alr have it in the 4d and wait until it is reflected in the 3d, but in non dualism it's different, and it is difficult for me to understand, what if I imagine it but never look the way I want?”

“bc u think u are human and u think there is a separation of “4d” and “3d”. non dualism = there is no separation bc everything is consciousness (ur true self). ego is making it seem harder than it is bc its so used to “reflections” and “manifestation” and separations. read my non dualism series on my pinned post.” - msperfect777

“how did you learn about non dualism and why? are there any good sources to read when you start?”

“@infinite.ko on instagram is where my journey started. shes so helpful so go check her out. “ - Msperfect777

“How can I use non dualism to become aware of my dream life?”

“non dualism is just a concept. be aware of ur dream life the same way u are aware of these words. but in imagination. bc as u know everything is imagination.” - Msperfect777

“Ok so if I’m getting this correctly, I am consciousness which = imagination so I don’t need to do anything bc I’m aware that imagination is the only consciousness I feel like ghe way i typed it out doesn’t make sense but basically only imagination matters, not sure if I’m getting “

“EVERYTHING is imagination. imagining a phone and the phone “you” have in “your” hand rn in the “physical” are not different. the illusion is that they SEEM different bc one SEEMS more realer than the other. yes theres nothing to do bc u are always aware as awareness / consciousness.” - msperfect777

“why does the "physical reality" feel so much realer than when fulfilling something in our imagination if it's all the same? how do i become of aware the things in my imagination to feel as real as what my ego or human body is experiencing?”

“1) its an illusion. ego is programmed to think that “physical world” is more realer than imagination

2) how to become aware? ur aware of these words rn. the second part seems to me that u think u are a human and u want something to “reflect” from imagination to the “physical” … u havent understood non dualism yet

3) theres no “feeling”… feeling is unreal. everything is a dream, an illusion” - Msperfect777

“I have this mentality that I’m not everyone cause I feel worthless and not speical I can’t really accept that I’m god . Any advice ?”

“thats the ego‼️‼️ you “feel” worthless and “cant accept” your true self bc youre stuck identifying with the human/body/mind = false self. SNAP OUT OF IT. heres an example that i heard somewhere i forgot where: when you watch a movie, you know it is a movie bc you are outside of it. you are observing it. now what about the characters in the movie? they dont know its a movie bc they are not outside of it. they think they are just regular ppl and they dont see the truth, their true selfs: which is just characters in a movie. what about water? water doesnt know its water bc its not on the outside, in order to observe/become aware that it is water. tell me why we can see or be aware of the body? why can we be aware of thoughts and feelings? bc we are “outside” of it. thats not who we really are. we are consciousness which is only aware of the body/ego. its not who we really are. we are not the body; we are not human; we are awareness/consciousness/the observer. we only observe these feelings/body/ego. so why take them seriously? now that you know that the ego is false and the body is false and that your true identity is only the observer, choose to stop identifying and agreeing with your thoughts and ego. they arent real. silently observe those thoughts and feelings come and go bc as the observer, observing is your nature. theres no need to fight with these unreal, imaginary things right? know your true self and observe. “ -msperfect777

“i am everything, right? so if i want to be in a TV show being a specific character, i already am and i just have to be aware of it? but how could i be aware of something i want if i don't know how it is having/being that thing?”

“sounds like ego is over complicating it… u are aware of these words right now. do u have to “know how its like” observing these words to be aware of them? no bc being aware and observing is natural, thats ur true identity. imagine it and it exists instantly. any other thoughts or beliefs are unreal, illusionary ego.” - msperfect777

“i have dream last night and want to know what you think. about dreams!”

“dreams r unreal. an illusion just like the “waking” “physical” world.” - msperfect 777

“If i am aware of some desire i want in my human being. It will instantly show physically. But what if i don’t see it physically?”

“what is “physical”? for you do identify something as “physical” and worry about some reflection means you see duality and separation where there is none. everything is imagination. you want to see it “physically”? imagine it and it exists instantly. you are limiting yourself to this unreal “physical” world when everything is imagination either way. you havent fully understood non dualism yet.” - msperfect777

“I am a little confused. so like everything is consciousness right, so I am everything and everything is me. so is my human self also me? like when I say “I am happy” does it refer to the human self or my true self?”

“everything is a form of consciousness. the human false self is also a form of consciousness. let me break this down: everything is you but you are not everything. everything is you bc everything is a form of consciousness bc nothing can exists without you being aware of it first. so a cat is a form of consciousness. a cat is you. but you (consciousness) is not the cat. your true self is consciousness and you cannot be a form of consciousness bc consciousness itself is the only real thing. thats why forms of consciousness arent real and only exist when you become aware of them. consciousness = limitless bc you can be / imagine anything. forms of consciousness arent limitless bc they are just forms of you. they cant be limitless bc they are only illusion and therefore unreal. and yes everything is consciousness bc its all you. just wanted to clear that up hopefully its not too confusing. a form of consciousness is unreal while consciousness itself is all it can ever be. yet everything is consciousness (non duality). if thats too confusing to understand, its fine bc either way everything is consciousness. i just wanted to use ur question to mention that. the human self is a form of consciousness but it isnt your true identity (consciousness) bc it is only a form of consciousness. consciousness is naturally “happy” and naturally “peace” so i would say that when ego/human says “i am happy” that it refers to the human ego, not the real you.” -msperfect777

so if i already am immortal, could i never become old (appearance)? and i will literally never die? i have fear of even "manifesting" not physically aging and being immortal, I actually end up aging and dying. it's like so ???? yk idk how to explain

“you are worried about being the human body which you are not. consciousness does not get old. consciousness never dies. consciousness = ur true identity. having that fear is the ego. the ego isnt real and feelings arent real. the body ends up aging and dying which is ur false self… consciousness (ur true self) doesnt. again you are already limitless so if u want the body to not age, imagine it and its done.” -msperfect77

“Giving myself burger in my imagination doesn’t satisfy my hunger in 3D How is that the same? Like seriously not meaning to be rude but doesn’t make sense.”

“thats an illusion. ask yourself who thinks they are still hungry? the answer wouldnt even matter bc this is all not real. you are consciousness that is playing the role of a human being and for the body, it is natural that it eats like its natural for consciousness to be aware. it seems not the same bc ego takes “not satisfying hunger in the physical world” as an excuse for the “physical” being the “real reality” and therefore it thinks imagination and “physical world” are separate, even tho the body is only consciousness bc nothing can exist without u being aware of it first. and since consciousness = imagination, everything = imagination. including the body and the body still being hungry. its all illusion😍. ego just thinks the two situations “feel” different even tho it all exists within consciousness therefore only being consciousness. hope that makes sense. “ - Msperfect777

“perfect , i have a question. all the teachers and blogs say we are human beings, designed to live a human life. let's say I want to manifest being immortal, or for example a vampire, or even a literal goddess. it's possible? with all these lectures saying that we are designed to live a human life, i had this doubt”

“you are already immortal bc consciousness never died bc consciousness was never born. “dying” is an unreal concept for ego and ppl who sadly dont know theyre true selves. you want to be a vampire? imagine it. literally you are every experience ego has had. everything is consciousness = you are already “your” phone. these words are forms of you. the human body is a form of consciousness. the beach and the rain and a chocolate cake and the side walk are forms of you. since you are so limitless that you can take all those infinite forms, why not be a vampire or a goddess. you are infinite limitlessness. dont doubt that. and ppl saying you are designed to life a human life are limited. we take on the role of humans at first but you literally make the rules in your own game. be whatever you want. no one and nothing can stop you💀. dont listen to a teacher/blogger that makes you feel limited. you are meant to do whatever you want, play whatever game you want in whatever form. do it bc you can and thats the point of life. “ -msperfect777

“Not trying to be rude but , you as human not real so why do you eat? Why do you drink? Why do you care about your life since everything is not real?”

“1) i am consciousness disguised as a human being. human bodies have natural things like breathing, blinking, eating etc. those are natural for the human just like it is natural for consciousness to be the observer.

2) non dualism implies nothing is real and this is all an illusion so all this is a game that i get to shape. i can imagine anything and there it is instantly. i can remove and add things right away. the point to enjoy this illusion and have fun and realize that pain and suffering isnt real. since i play the role of a human being, “i” choose to keep the body going by breathing and eating bc those are natural for the body. and i will enjoy the game that is a projection of me (consciousness) which i can shape instantly.” Msperfect777

“This is a lot to take in lol. I’m rereading your series over and over again, but my question is how does it all relate back to loa and manifesting?”

“it has nothing to do with manifesting n loa. thats where ppl get confused im assuming bc loa ppl made it a “trend” so ppl think it has to do with manifesting. non dualism has to do with all of “life”. the point it so notice that “suffering” isnt real. that nothing is real and once you understand it, you will realize all this is just a game and everything is peace. understanding non dualism = everything is you. since everything is you, what is there to “manifest”? non dualism haters say that non dualism stems from loa when non dualism is an ancient concept while loa was known during the 1900s…. loa is like an ant compared to the whole earth when it comes to non dualism. if you try to mix them together, it wont make sense which is what happened in the past when non dualism was a “trend” in the loa community.” -msperfect777

“I know that I have my desired appearance but when I look in the mirror I see other appearance so what can I do?”

“You haven't grasped that the "physical" reality is not real and are waiting for something to materialize! You know you have it in imagination so there's no need to continue to look in the mirror and go "I don't see it yet. Cause at the end of the day it's your ego that "doesn't see it yet" and you are not the ego.” @iamthat-iam

“Hi, I (my ego or whatever) haven't fully understood non-dualism yet. so I want to continue with the law of assumption, self-concept, states, affirm and persist, I know that I am not trying to do this to change something, but that it is already like that, I do not affirm to obtain like when we think that something is going to happen and we affirm it but not for it to happen but because it will happen, thus understanding the manifestation, not to obtain it but because it is already mine and to change my concept of myself but now I feel that this does not work or is not real for not understanding non-dualism. I know that non-dualism is not loa pero igual me confunde todo.”

“Hey, it's totally fine if you don't understand non dualism yet! And it sounds like you understand law of assumption, not doing techniques to get things but understanding you already have it. If non dualism is making you confused, I would stop reading posts about it (and maybe law of assumption posts too) and just focus on having your desires already. “ -iamthat-iam

“What is the truth ? Is truth subjective and personal or objective? Am I the one who determines the truth and am I the one who controls the truth? Do ı have to listen to what teachers, masters, gurus, coaches tell Is it possible that I don't want to accept the teachings of teachers, masters, gurus and coaches as true and real and real? I don't accept the teachings of teachers, masters, gurus, coaches, etc. as true and real, can I do that? How do I recognize, accept and realize that I am the one true God? What do you mean by no desire? “

“Hi, so there is only one "objective truth", that being you decide what is true or not. All other "truths" are subjective. You are consciousness and consciousness is the only reality. People who believe in karma will experience karma, those who don't, will not. The people who do experience karma are consciousness of it existing. You don't have to accept what any teachers or gurus say, because you are the one who decides what the truth is. Accepting your true nature as God means to dis identify with your body, your mind and your ego (human identity) As God, consciousness, awareness, you already are everything, you are always fulfilled, complete and whole, therefore there's nothing to desire, all desires come from ego and the illusion of seperation. “-iamthat-iam

“Hiiii queen I’ve been reading your posts for the last two days and I get everything except the part where how can I change the experience of my human self? I get it that it’s all an Illusion but how do I change it”

“Hiii! The statement "it's an illusion" answers your own question! What experience is there to change, if it's not real to begin with? Anything about your ego's life that you wanted to change, has already happened and already exists within consciousness. You're not lacking anything! “ -iamthat-iam

“i feel like this is redundant but do you have any tips for accepting consciousness as reality? or is it just something that comes to you”

“When you daydream, sometimes you get so lost that when you "snap back" to "reality" you're like woah, I completely forgot where I was!”

“That's because the physical reality isn't real, it comes and goes, and it disappeared when you were daydreaming. In that moment that daydream was your reality because you were conscious of it. Test it out, get really lost in a daydream, and then notice how your awareness of the "physical" slowly fades. “ -iamthat-iam

“So all I have to do is imagine my desire and BAM I just experienced it? Since imagination is the only reality ... Imagine it and knowing that it really happened at the very moment when I imagined it and just go on my day without worrying or anything because that particular thing already happened , what wanted already is there THAT'S IT??”

Yes!! That's literally it! I think people aren't grasping how simple this is! Imagine once and it's DONE” -iamthat-iam

“I still feel unsure on nondualism. It’s just that I’ve been part of loa for so long. And I see so many success stories. But once I went through the nondualism posts, I see no success stories whatsoever. It’s just the same thing “OMG I UNDERSTAND NOW!” “I feel so calm” but never anything related to applying it for something they previously wanted. I get it’s not to “get” something, but I guess it’s just me still wanting proof or something.”

“You're going to see a lot of loa success stories because it is a results based practice, you go into it to achieve something so it's exciting when it shows up "physically!" In Non Dualism, the goal is to stop identifying with ego and realize that who you are is God, consciousness, awareness, etc. You see there's no seperation between you and anything so that means everything you once "desired" is already who you are. You never feel the sense of desire again because of this. So when the anons say they understand now and feel at peace, that is the success story. Any "physical materialization" that happens after will not seem like such a big deal, since it was already who they were to begin with. It's a life changing experience, maybe they are enjoying their newfound freedom and not going on social media as much to share "materialization" success stories, maybe they are just private, who knows. At the end of the day, it's something you are going to have try for yourself. The worst that could happen is not seeing your desires "physically" which is where you may or may not be at already! It's completely up to you 😊” -iamthat-iam

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

LAST THOUGHTS

Now looking back at this, the AMOUNT of questions regarding the physical/manifestation is unreal. I am not saying again that it wrong to ask questions of course not !! I do it myself. It just that these questions already been answered by many bloggers. so please guys do your research, read as many blogs, and if it still doesn’t click, then that is when its reasonable to ask. But i feel like many aren’t putting in their part to learn, and just expect to have someone educate/inform them, when there are many MANY resources where you can get informed yourself. So please take your time to grasp it before asking. I rarely ask questions like maybe once or twice but that is because there are so many great blogs that have answered my questions perfectly. I am not saying you have to learn fast but reminding you to take advantage of the amazing resources out there!

Check this out to better understand:

Shoutout to @lains-reality for this wonderful blog !!

I also want this to be shared more!!!:

“Just to add. Usually when we daydream, we are in a state of hopelessly wishing we were that person in the daydream. We are fully immersed in it, while thinking we are the person daydreaming and not the person in the daydream. The simple fact that we call it a "daydream" is a statement that we believe that which we are experiencing in that moment, is but a mere fantasy. So yeah, you can daydream for years, and as long as it's still a daydream, it will remain a daydream... until you dare to identify as the person in the daydream and let go of the daydreamer who can only wish that were them.”

Shoutout to @napolonio for this wonderful input!!!

That is all i got for today. I will continue adding more Q&A by different bloggers when I can ! And as always, Happy non-dualing !

#non dualism #nondualism #non duality #nonduality #conciousness #observer

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ironunderstands · 3 days

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Topaz appreciation post because she’s been rotating around my brain like a rotisserie chicken and I need y’all to get her like I do

Genuinely, I believe her to be the most underrated limited 5 star in the game everything wise, because she is so damn interesting and nobody talks about it ever and it drives me nuts.

So, I’m going to make you understand why exactly I love her and what makes her so amazing in the first place.

Her lore

Topaz’s lore is rather simple, at least compared to other characters in the game, but simple ≠ bad and her story serves her perfectly.

Long before Topaz was Topaz, she was a girl named Jelena, living in a desolate planet at the edge of the galaxy. The economy of this planet was based around mining and industry, which resulted in her home becoming more and more polluted as time went on. The wildlife almost completely disappeared, people had to wear masks to breathe, and it seemed like her planet was reaching a hopeless, dismal end.

Until the IPC came. They promised to fix everything, and heal her planet of its environment problems, in exchange for every person on the planet signing a contract of indentured servitude to the IPC. Seeing no other way out, Topaz’s home accepted, forever tying her and the rest of the planet to the IPC.

Topaz is was (and still is) incredibly talented and competent, excelling in science, economics, finances, math, etc. Her exceptional talents caused her mentor and parental figure Dvorski, who works in the Strategic Investment Department to recommend her to Jade, one of his superiors. Presumably, this is how she started her climb up the corporate latter, eventually becoming the Topaz we know and love today.

Throughout this, she maintained her friendly and headstrong attitude, and never abandoned her love for animals or the people in her life like Dvorski, a trait which will be important for later.

So, I’ve established the basics, so what makes this interesting?

Topaz’s trauma and how it affects her character

I feel like a lot of people ignore just how much trauma she really has, and how it affects the way she behaves in the present.

For starters, her love of animals. Sure, Numby is adorable and in general this is a rather fun trait for a character to have, it’s not something you would consider to be a sign of something darker.

However, remember that Topaz’s planet almost lost all of the life on it, and she witnessed firsthand almost every creature she knew and loved either go extinct or become severely endangered.

So, when you view her love for animals through this lense, it’s easy to see that she’s so attached to animals because Topaz almost lost them forever, and this trait manifests in a lot of the behavior she exhibits.

According to Topaz herself, her efficiency goes up 27% when Numby is with her, and it seems to be blatantly obvious that being around animals give her at the very least a peace of mind/sense of comfort. I mean in game she is Topaz and Numby for a reason, and her relationship with them is a core part of the way she behaves. When Topaz can’t ground herself, she has Numby to help her with that, which hurts even more considering she is likely going on these missions alone 90% of the time, meaning her literal only friend is a pet/animal.

Considering Topaz’s biological parents never get mentioned, it’s not hard to assume she is orphaned or at the very least estranged from them, likely due to the disaster on her planet, leaving her only loved ones to be her pets and Dvorski. Losing one half of the only support system she has would be devastating for Topaz, which is likely why she brings Numby everywhere (also considering I don’t think she has mentioned him in the present, her pets might literally be the only things she has left).

In her own home, Topaz collects a myriad of species from across the galaxy, as if to preserve them so at least even if they disappear on their home planets like hers did, they won’t go extinct entirely.

Personally, I think her fixation around them cooperating and coexisting also reflects on how she feels about other people. If animals from completely different planets can get along, so can people. If she can convince creatures lacking in intellect work together, then she can do the same for ones that possess it, as ultimately Topaz is a massive people person, and believes what she’s doing is best for the galaxy.

It’s almost like an experiment, with every little change to their ecosystems, every new organism added, every new abiotic feature taken or removed, Topaz can simulate what that might be like in reality. In a way she wants to take care of humans like she does her pets, however instead of doing it through her own means, she uses the IPC and her power as a Stoneheart as a vector for that.

But why is she so confident? What makes Topaz wholeheartedly believe that what she’s doing really is the best for the galaxy, even if we know it isn’t perfect, even if only ~80% of the planets she works on are “saved”?

Well, like always, it’s her trauma again.

Imagine you’re living on a planet slowly dying due to its people’s greed and ignorance, in which everything you know and love is falling apart, and absolutely nothing can be done about it. But you don’t need to imagine this, I mean this is a situation we are all going through, as it’s already what’s happening to our planet right now, so perhaps instead picture what it might be like to live here in a few decades if nothing changes. How miserable that would be, how upset you would be at those in power, how disappointed you would be in humanity for doing Nothing when we had so much time and already knew the consequences almost a century in advance (seriously we have known about climate change since like the 50s).

So you give up hope and accept your fate, accept that everything is going down in flames and the humanity, the planet you know and love is going to be snuffed out forever.

Only to get saved when an outside influence comes to your assistance. Sure, they make everyone sign a contract binding their lives to them, but you wouldn’t have a life to give had they not helped. Besides, you owe it to every other thing that shares your planet with you, every plant, every animal, every organism has been utterly wiped out by human greed, so it’s only fair to pay them back, right?

I mean it’s your whole world at stake, so how could you say no? How could you deem their terms unreasonable if clearly your own people didn’t deserve the responsibility they had over their own lives? If their situations could only be fixed by giving it to others who could guide them? By giving it to the IPC? The Preservation ?

This is the mindset Topaz grew up on and has known for her entire life. She has seen humanity utterly fail itself and is unwilling to allow that fate to befall others. She doesn’t trust other people to make the right decisions, she doesn’t think they know what’s best for them, because the people she was closest to, her very own people couldn’t do that, so how could she ever expect strangers to do the same?

How could she ever give the leaders of these planets the benefit of the doubt, knowing that doing that for her own almost caused it to be wiped out completely? How could she see them as anything more than the selfish bastards who ruined everything? How could her heart not ache thinking there were people on the planets she helps who would be doomed to experience the fate that almost fell upon her had Topaz not stepped in.

How could Topaz feel guilty over the planets that don’t succeed? The ones she can’t save? As after all, she thinks they were lost from the get go? Does it eat her up at night knowing she failed them? That she couldn’t prevent the folly of humanity this time, so the next planet she must work harder, be more stubborn, push back even more, so nobody ever experiences what she did instead?

I mean being an indentured servant hasn’t been that bad for her, she’s succeeded in every endeavor she’s set her mind to after all. Sure, she’s entirely alone, and sure, if the IPC no longer deems her or her people useful, they could cast them aside once again.

But Topaz is smart, she climbed to the top of the latter, she’s been praised to hell and back, she’s known far and wide through the department for her efficiency and drive, surely she hasn’t done anything wrong?

Sure she’s heard whispers, rumors and projects of other departments, of the deep dark secrets of the company she owes her life too. Inwardly she wonders how those who follow the Preservation would even be willing to commit such atrocities, inwardly she hopes they are just rumors. The IPC saved her planet, so how could they destroy others?

The Preservation’s power will protect all, will save them from their miserable existences. Nothing else matters in the process, no dissenter understands this as like Topaz does. She will save them, she will protect them, even if it means she is detested by everyone she encounters, it must be done. All for the Amber Lord.

I find it very compelling how despite the fact that Topaz has become a Stoneheart, she is still dressed in the fashion of an average IPC worker. As if she is an equal part of the puzzle as them. Equally useful, equally disposable, equally biased, equally ignorant, and equally foolish.

I mean, how could she be anyway else?

Her future

Belabog was just as important for Topaz’s development as she was to it.

She was wrong.

As stubborn as Topaz is, she is not arrogant, and when Bronya proved to her that the people of Belabog can and would fight for their future, Topaz did everything in her power to help them.

As that’s what she really cares about, people.

I think Topaz the determination she has in Bronya and it shook her to her core.

Because so far, the only way Topaz has seen real progress is from the hands of the IPC.

But Bronya doesn’t give into them, and she puts everything she has into saving her people. Moreover, Jarilo-VI follows the Preservation as well, but they don’t agree with the IPC’s method of it.

Is the IPC wrong?

That is the question Topaz is faced with, what is the thing she has to grapple with once she leaves the planet. When they demote her for not getting the debt back immediately, does Topaz wonder why they were so concerned about that in the first place? Shouldn’t they be happy that a world blessed by their very own deity managed to pick itself up without their help? Isn’t that the point?

Does she think back to her previous projects, the planets she saved and the planets she failed, and wonder how it would have worked out without the IPCs involvement?

Did Aventurine teasing her about “failing” the Jarilo-VI project confuse her, because they were still saved like Topaz wanted them to be in the first place? How could they ever be considered a failure?

She believes debts and payback are what holds planets together, but it only ever seemed to cause Belabog to fall apart.

This is the first time Topaz really is forced to reevaluate her priorities, to question if her methods are justifiable, if she’s really doing the right thing.

Belabog didn’t break her, it didn’t topple her worldview and turn everything on its head, but it did plant some seeds of doubt in her brain, seeds of doubt that will grow into a new mindset.

HOYOVERSE IF YOU ARE LISTENING HOYOVERSE, GIVE HER THE MENTAL BREAKDOWN + PRIORITY REEVALUATION ARC SHE DESERVES!!! DO THAT AND MY LIFE IS YOURS PLEASE.

Like you don’t get it you don’t get it what do you mean they set all this up and they might not go anywhere with it. Please hoyo please please please let her break away from the IPC’s condition and warped perspective, please let her truly follow the Preservation, please make her turn away from them, please make her an emanator of Preservation after she does this. Topaz stoneheart form, Topaz emanator form. Please please please let her save the crew let her save her subordinates let her save the people she failed previously let her save Aventurine and Ratio let her save Numby let her save herself.

Her instability

I have already somewhat touched on this in point #3, but Topaz just cannot exist in the state she is now permanently.

Like a radioactive element she’s going to slowly decay over time until she ends up in a more stable form, and who that will hurt in the process, and how long that will take, we will have to see.

Hypocrisy is not something that can exist for long within characters, as due to its inherent contradictions, it messes with the way they are characterized until they are eventually forced to either eliminate it themselves or have the story do it for them.

Topaz is a hypocrite, desiring to do good and help people, but she ends up hurting them in the process.

However, she has only just begun to realize this, and as more and more of the IPC’s atrocities get revealed, it gets harder and harder for both the audience and her herself to justify her behavior as we witness the extent of their crimes.

So how has she remained this stable for so long?

Well, the IPC has done everything in their power to keep her that way. From a young age she was involved with them, as they not only saved her planet, but her only known parental figure worked in the Strategic Investment Department. Soon, he recommended her to Jade due to Topaz’s exceptional talent, and presumably the other Stoneheart quickly picked her up and took her under her wing, causing Jelena to rise fast within the ranks and become one herself.

The IPC has been Topaz’s only frame of reference for how things should be done, her only perspective on write and wrong for so long. The only hints she gets of other points of view are that of the people who destroyed her planet, her own people. Unintentional or not, Topaz has been made to feel her whole life like the IPC are heroes and the common people are foolish and greedy and evil, and only now has that worldview started to crumble piece by piece.

Sure, we have always known how terrible the IPC was, a perception that has only gotten more and more true over time. However, Topaz is not the audience, and in universe the IPC presents themselves in a very positive light.

Think of the Myriad Celestia trailer and how it portrays the IPC; that’s quite literally how they want to be viewed in game, how they market themselves to other people. If Topaz has only ever known them to be that great, shining, progressive company who vows to follow the Preservation and improve the universe, how could even begin to criticize them? After all, she had never known any other perspective. Even when she did fail in the past, Topaz viewed it as a strike on her own record and an unfortunate situation in general, not as a demonstration of the IPC’s misdeeds.

The IPC is good, the IPC saves people, the IPC follows the Preservation, Topaz is a good person, Topaz does good things, Topaz helps people, Topaz saves people, there is nothing wrong, there won’t ever be anything wrong.

Until Belabog

They don’t want to cooperate with the IPC. To roll over and let themselves be gutted for all they are worth.

Well that’s fine, that’s happened before, at least that’s how Topaz justifies it to herself. She thinks of their massive debt, it must be paid after all, otherwise how could the galaxy remain stable?

But the weapons the IPC gave Jarilo-VI were never used in its defense. The thing they owe the IPC for never ended up being valuable. Belabog stood on its own, without the help of IPC in its defense.

They saved themselves.

As if it couldn’t get worse, they did it with the power of the Preservation.

And it didn’t come from the IPC, it came from them.

The Interastral Peace Corporation, who claim to be followers of the Preservation, standing against people who really do have their blessing and being proved wrong.

Do you know how that would feel to Topaz.

She’s wrong, and she’s proven wrong by the very deity she claims to follow, she believes she follows.

So Topaz makes her choice.

Stick with the IPC’s plan, or stand with the people of Belabog

And she stands with them.

Topaz’s character never changes. I hate when people act like she switched up on them and changed her whole worldview, but in reality that was the most in character thing Topaz has ever done in her entire life.

Because she cares about people, so when the opportunity presents itself, she will always stand with them.

This is the first time Topaz goes against the IPC’s wishes, and it won’t be the last.

She made her choice, she demonstrated who and what she truly cares about, and that will only drive a wedge between her and the IPC further and further until she snaps.

I find it funny how Topaz is a fire type character, when the song core to Belabog’s themes is “Wildfire”

However, maybe it isn’t just about them. I think it’s about the Preservation, about what the game in general is trying to tell its players.

How fighting for your right to exist will hurt, but it is not impossible, and that pain will be the only way to enact change.

Well, Topaz,

you made your choice

go fight against your fate

Thank you so much for reading! I really enjoyed making this and I hope you at least understand why I think Topaz is such a compelling character. I need an arc centered on her in the future and if I don’t get one then trust me things will be dealt with. She will get her just desserts.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr analysis #topaz hsr #topaz #topaz honkai star rail #topaz and numby #Im insane about her I was tweaking while writing this #This community does not deserve Topaz #aventurine #dr ratio #I need to make a post on the parallels between the IP3 #They are so so so important to one another though #I hate when ppl downplay that #THE NARRATIVE PARALLELS GRRRRR #ppl need to acknowledge just how hard the IPC fucked up her too #Like it’s more obvious with Aven and Boothill but still

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