#when will my sanity come back from the war

[jelzorz]

the snake: ch4

“So even he wants to die,” says Callum drily.

Soren fights a scowl. They've all been on edge these past few days, but Callum, more than anyone, has been looking for reasons to be hostile. This morning's council meeting is as cold as the winter chill and Soren’s mind is stuck, caught on the sound of iron bars clanging and his father begging for death. In theory, this should be easier now: Viren wants to die, so why not simply let him? And yet—

“He is not of sound mind,” says Opeli crisply, as tired of Callum’s ire as everyone else. “We don't let people die because they want to unless there are valid reasons to allow it. That is not how the law here operates.”

“Is being a war criminal not a valid reason?”

part iv of Viren comes home and Soren has to deal with it

Here on ao3

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Wild Horses

Part 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Doctor!Reader

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

A/N: Just a little idea I had after seeing all the TikToks and now I am yanked onto the Ghost train. I used to watch my brother play the game but that was a while ago so bear with me here. (advice or little pointers are much appreciated). I also might make this into a short story or add another part to it, let me know y’all. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings: language, fluff, angst

You were assigned to the team as their personal physician, as requested by the higher ups in order to make sure the soldiers stayed in best health, both physically and mentally. You used to work at your local hospital before you were offered the position.

You knew the dangers and the risks involved, but you were in debt and had student loans that needed to paid. So after much hesitation, you accepted the offer, eventually being convinced by the fat paycheck.

You remembered the day you were first introduced to the team, the way everyone's eyes glued to you like a hawk, their large forms towering over your small frame in the room while you picked at the skin around your nails in nervous habit.

They were curious to say the least, wondering what the hell someone like you was doing in a place like this. And since when did they get the chance to have a full on doctor to treat them, usually they were offered combat medics. You had guts, that's for sure.

You on the other hand were nervous, frightened even, with the thought of living in the same quarters of men wrapped up within the tumults and afflictions of war without a single clue as to their current psychological state. You had seen the worst of men and humanity growing up and you no idea who these soldiers were, what they were capable of, or what their intentions might be. Maybe you should have requested that briefing before you hopped on that plane.

Amongst all of their gazes, you had failed to notice a certain masked individual in the far back of the room, his form shrouded amongst the others as he studied you. His eyes, hidden underneath the grooves of his mask that only seemed to be darkened by where he stood blocked by the only source of light, watched your every movement, from every gesture of your perfectly manicured fingers to every smoothing of the lint-free fabric of your sweater to the way you kept shifting your weight from one foot to another.

One thing was apparent; during the entire length the high ranking officer next to you introduced you and debriefed the men on what was expected and such, you had not uttered a single word, minus the small polite and somewhat strained smile on your face while your eyes told another story. Why the military truly hired you, he may never know.

After being shown your little office and workspace including your room, you were quick to settle in, decorating the area to the best of your abilities with what you had taken with you from back home in order to bring some life into the dull and two-dimensional area. If anyone questioned you on it you would just say that your own sanity is extremely vital in order to ensure quality treatment for your patients.

Once everything in your office was set up, you threw on your white coat and retreated yourself to your office space, sitting at your desk and hastily going over the files that you had completely forgotten about that were given to you regarding the soldiers' previous health before they come pouring in reporting symptoms of god knows what. Best be prepared. Jesus how many bullet wounds can a single individual have.

The soldiers were advised to do their routine physical examinations with you so the first one to come waltzing in through your office door was none other than Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, a cheeky grin plastered on his face and much too excited for his own good. That boy's got a crush on you I swear. To be honest I'd be lying if I said the whole team didn't have a schoolboy crush on you.

The men were quick to warm up to you, relieved to have a gentle soul in their midst after all the shit that goes down outside, you were like breath of fresh air. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to bring a doctor on board, as quiet and reserved as you were. They speculated you were just shy, the reason why you never spoke much, not knowing that you just couldn't hold a conversation if your life depended on it, especially around those you weren't close with. At first they couldn't tell because of your major rbf.

During their routine check-ups or whatever issue they had going on, they would do most of the talking, which was a good thing on your end because it helped you to piece together their temperaments. Thank the lord no one is a psycho murderer. Oh wait.

Soap is the most chattiest of them all. Boy wouldn't shut his mouth when he sat in your office. He's super flirty. But not as flirty as Alejandro.

Ghost on the other hand was reluctant to step into your office for his check-ups. After all he was usually the one to tend to his own wounds or just push through whatever it is that is going on, so he did not know what all the fuss was about in having to get his health checked. So when you call out his last name more than once might I add, clipboard in hand and scanning the area for whoever looks to be headed in your direction, he can't help but heave out a sigh, trudging over to where you stood, your clean white coat a stark contrast to the rest of the environment as you leaned against your door to hold it open.

You muttered out a small hello to which he let out a small huff as you moved aside to let the man enter, watching him walk into your office and seat himself down. That man intimidated you a bit not gonna lie. Not only could you not see his face but he had also not said a single word to you. And not to mention he was absolutely huge as compared to you, even more so in person. You also had heard a lot of stories from the other guys.

"How is your day?" You ask, shutting the door behind you as you briefly read over his previous but extremely short records on your clipboard. There's barely anything on this man. Does he not get ill?

Ghost is quiet at first, watching your eyes scan over the clipboard and curious to know just what is on those papers before your eyes flit up to meet his and catch him off guard, which causes him to answer abruptly. "Fine."

"Okey dokes." You give a quick smile.

Did you just say okey dokes.

Clearing your throat, you go over to where he sat and set the clipboard down on the table next to you beside your laptop. You didn’t have to read his body language to know he did not want to be here at all. So you were going to do him a favor and make the appointment as quick as possible.

"So do you have any allergies to any medications, any allergies I need to know of?" Your fingers hover over the keyboard of your laptop as you turn to face him, only to be met with an expressionless skull of a mask and the expressionless eyes beneath. Oh boy this session was going to be something. You had heard of how he had never shown his face, so you made sure not to question on it.

"No ma'am."

"Are you currently taking any medication?" You ask the same standard set of questions you have asked every single patient of yours, typing as you go.

"No ma'am."

Any previous illness? Disease?"

"No."

The more you ask him questions, the more he strangely finds it easier to answer. Your voice is surprisingly soft, warm even, like the start of autumn, and he finds it comforting to listen to. Or maybe it's just some technique doctors learn during training in order to relax their patients.

"Do you have any history of smoking, alcohol, or illicit drug use?"

".......sometimes I'll have a smoke, and a glass of bourbon." He's almost waiting for you to hand him a pamphlet about the dangers of smoking.

"How many times would you say?" You ask for details, your eyes still glued to the screen of your laptop as you await his answer.

Ghost is a bit confused by the amount of questions you ask, but he also has not been to the doctor's so how would he know. "Um I don't know."

"A rough estimate is fine."

"Not much, maybe 2-3 times a week or so when I'm not on duty."

"How many times a week do you exercise?" You feel silly for asking this question to a man like him but it's all part of the procedure and you almost pray he doesn't hate you for it.

"Every day." So no pamphlet?

Jesus this man has more discipline than you. You can barely get up in the morning.

"Okayyy." You mutter out, more to yourself as you enter in his responses.

Ghost finds himself watching you from his seat on the chair, his eyes tracing over and studying your features as you type away on your laptop. He thinks you're really pretty but either doesn't want to admit it or just flat out does not know that he finds you attractive.

There are certain details about you that he can't help but find himself intrigued by, like the small black outline flower tattoo on your hand that was located near the area of your thumb, running along the curve to meet the knuckle of your forefinger. He's curious as to the meaning behind it, if there was one. He wanted to ask what type of flower it was, perhaps it was your favorite? It would give him an idea as to what flowers to get you.

"Have you ever been hospitalized, had any surgical procedures done or been treated for any chronic conditions?"

"No." Ghost shakes his head before remembering his wounds from combat, wondering if that is something you should know. "Just the bullet and knife wounds from combat. Nothing too serious."

Jesus fucking christ. You were willing to bet he treated those wounds himself.

Ghost is not a fan of hospitals. Pretty sure this dude just looks up YouTube tutorials on how to fix himself instead of just going to the doctor like a normal human being.

"When was the last time you visited your general practitioner.......or just any doctor in general?" You ask the last question, willing to bet it never.

There was silence on his end as you looked towards him waiting for an answer, the clicking of your keyboard coming to a stop and only loudening the silence. Ghost could not remember the last time he had been to a hospital or even scheduled a visit. And as you looked at him, your eyes almost staring into his soul, still waiting for a response, he could not help but feel a tad bit embarrassed, as if you were judging him for not being a responsible adult. Also it didn't help that you were goddamn pretty.

"I'm gonna take that as a very long time, the last time being the prehistoric ages, correct?" There's the slightest hint of a tease in your voice.

"Uh.......yes ma'am." Ghost squints his eyes at you as you go back to typing on your keyboard. Did you just.............did you just call him…..He does not know how to feel about that. Did you just try to crack a joke? He always thought doctors were the serious type.

"Okay then." You straighten up, grabbing your sphygmomanometer off the table and turning yourself to face him. "Is it okay if I check your blood pressure?"

The man is stunned. No one has ever asked his permission for anything before. He's so used to either taking orders or giving orders that he doesn't know how to respond and stares at you for a moment, forcing his brain to process what to do next before eventually giving a nod.

"Is it okay if you take your jacket off so I can get a clearer reading?"

He nods again, still in shock as he takes off his jacket, leaving him in his black long sleeve thermal. He's almost thankful he wasn't in his full tactical gear, having to imagine you standing there waiting for him as he removes every single piece of equipment off his torso.

"Thank you." You give him a short smile, placing your hand under his tricep and gently lifting his arm in order to wrap the inflatable cuff around his bicep. You almost blush at the mere size of this man's arms. "Now you're just going to feel a slight pressure okay."

Ghost can't help but feel a slight warmth spread to his cheeks at the way you handle him with such care, as if he were the small delicate thing and not you. Now he knows why the others were so giddy after leaving your office.

As you place your stethoscope on his forearm near his elbow to listen to his blood pumping through the artery, your other hand pumping air into the cuff using the inflation bulb with your eyes glued to the numbers on the gauge, he can't help but to notice the old Donald Duck watch that sat at your wrist, the ones with the moving arms and the vintage style black leather straps.

And as he further investigated your attire, he noticed a few other details, like the colorful glittery badge reel in the shape of a pill container with the words "licensed drug dealer" printed on it that was attached to your scrub top, the glitter sticker with the words "I'm nicer than my face looks" as well a few Disney character stickers and the little frog looking keychain that hung off of your badge. He was wondering what the hell that thing was. Your accessories were awfully colorful for a general doctor. Something was telling him you either used to work with families or children. Whatever the hell managed to bring you to such a drastic change.

You brought him out of his thoughts as you shifted from your position, unwrapping the inflatable cuff from around his bicep and placing it back on the table before typing the results into your laptop. "Okay," You adjust the ear pieces of your stethoscope back into your ears as you turn back to him, "I'm going to perform some auscultations, which is just listening to the sounds of your heart and your lungs so if you could just sit up straight and relax that would be wonderful."

Simon straightens up his posture as you place your free hand on his shoulder, at this point you're not sure if you're steadying him or yourself, your fingertips just barely grazing across the bottom of his neck. He doesn't know why but, it's as if your fingers are directly touching the skin underneath, despite the fabric of his mask that separated your fingers from his skin. Your hands feels hot, like really hot and he has no clue why.

The soldier only feels his cheeks warm up even more so now as you inch closer to carefully place the diaphragm of your stethoscope on his chest, your head tilted and your eyes lowered to the floor as you listen for his heart beat. He gets a whiff of your perfume and he finds himself drawn to it. You smell like something along the lines of jasmine petals, geranium, myrrh, frankincense, and a hint of sandalwood. Now he definitely knows why the others are fawning over you. Poor Simon is praying you don't hear how his heart is nearly racing. He does not know why he is feeling this way and it slightly bothers him in the way that he has no clue what it is he is feeling.

He catches how your brows slightly furrow at the center and his heart skips a beat. Now he's fucking embarrassed and this man rarely ever is embarrassed. Maybe he's even starting to panic. Can you tell? Do you know? You open your mouth to say something but he quickly interrupts he just got back from a run so you dismiss it with a shrug, placing the diaphragm on his back now and asking him to give you a couple of deep breaths.

"Okay. Take a deep breathe in, breathe it out. Breathe in, and out."

He complies with your instructions, breathing in slow and deep breaths as you go from one side of his back to another.

"Good job." You remove the earpieces and let your stethoscope hang around your neck as you go back to your table, recording in more info. Hang on did you just, did you just tell a grown 6'4" man good job.

Even Simon is confused. Like bitch.

"Okay, so we're all done with that." You inform him, before going over to one of the drawers and sliding it open. "Now if you don't mind, I would like to have some blood work done on you, just to make sure there are no underlying issues that need to be taken care of."

Simon is silent so you turn to him. "Is that okay, Ghost, is that what the others call you? Would you like me to call you Ghost?"

Goddamn you're too polite. "That's fine by me ma'am."

"Perfect. Now is it okay if I take your blood sample?"

Ghost nods, so you grab the tools necessary and place them on the table next to you.

"Could you please roll your sleeve up and make a fist for me? Thank you." You ask him once you sanitize your hands and throw on a pair of fresh gloves. You grab the tourniquet and catch sight of the tattoos that cover his forearm as you tie the tourniquet around his arm above the elbow. You're curious to know the story behind them but you have a feeling he's not one for storytelling or just talking in general so you remain silent. You tear open the small packet of the alcohol wipe and apply it to the area. The chemical is cool against his skin as you sanitize the area before letting it air dry. Simon can't help but notice how small your hands are.

Simon watches you intently as you work, the way you are so focused and so precise with each step, and yet so gentle. It's almost cute.

"You're just going to feel a little pinch." You tell him in a soft tone, a tone you were used to using on all your little patients before inserting the needle into his vein. As if the man hasn't been shot or stabbed and god knows what multiple times before.

At this point Simon doesn't even notice the needle in his arm, he's too focused on the details of your face. He can sense that you're nervous around him and he feels bad. Even though he's just met you, the last thing he wants is for you to feel scared or unsafe around him. And even though this whole situation is awkward for him since he never was a fan of visiting the hospital, you're their physician, and at the end of the day you're there to patch them up. So he comments on your dark circles, thinking you haven't gotten any rest since you arrived here. "You look tired."

"............that's just my face." You give him that distinct smile, the same smile you have given anyone who ever commented on them as you connect the vacutainers to the needle to draw his blood, your eyes glued to the dark red liquid seeping through the thin clear tube before pouring into the sample tube.

If you thought it was quiet before, well you are most definitely wrong because the silence is absolutely deafening now.

Simon nearly punches himself for his stupidity. Why in the bloody hell did he say that of all things. He wanted to tell you he liked your dark circles but decided to bite his tongue instead. Now he's definitely not going to say another word. Better yet, once he leaves your office, he's not coming back. He's just going to avoid you at all costs in order to save both you and himself the embarrassment. He's willing to bet the others handled this way better than him.

"But I suppose I am a bit jet-lagged though. Haven't really gotten any rest since I got on that plane." You add. "I appreciate your concern."

You most definitely said that to make him feel better about himself, Simon thinks to himself as he stares at the wall and avoids your face. There was no other reason.

Once your done drawing his blood you ask him to hold the piece of cotton pad down onto where the needle was punctured as you open up the drawer where the gauze is located. "Do you have a favorite color?"

Did you just ask him his favorite color? Simon stares at you blankly. Were all doctors this odd?

"I'm guessing you like black?" You pull out the roll of black gauze, displaying it in front of you with the most deadpanned expression possible.

You've got jokes. Simon thinks to himself. If he had looked a little closer he would have noticed the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

"You should see the colors the others picked." You tease as you wrap the gauze around his arm at the elbow, making sure it isn't too tight but also not loose enough to the point where the cotton pad underneath slips out.

Simon narrows his eyes at you. Bloody fucking hell. The others picked a color?

You're pretty sure Gaz requested you get an Elmo print one he saw online once somewhere. Soap asked if there a print of the Scotland flag available. The look of hurt on his face when you said there wasn't so you improvised and gave him both the blue and white gauze. You gave him a Dum-Dum lollipop to make him feel better. The others may have also gotten a lollipop as they left your office, especially after seeing the special treatment that Soap received. Were they jealous? Maybe.

Once you tell the man he is all good to go and that you will call him once you're done getting the results from his blood sample, he nearly jumps out of the chair and bolts out of your office. He prays some unknown miracle happens and that his blood sample magically disappears so that he doesn't have to face you, firmly believing he insulted you and that you thought he called you ugly when that is not what he intended. I am telling you this man does not know how to compliment. They should make a guidebook for dummies specialized just for him.

You watch him disappear out your door with a quirked brow. Well that was fucking weird.

When Simon leaves the area he finds Soap lounging about on a chair with a sucker in his mouth.

"The hell is that?" Simon squints at the sergeant.

"Mph mph." Soap's voice comes out muffled.

"What?"

Soap pauses and turns to see Ghost looming over him. "It's a Dum-Dum."

"A fuckin what?"

"Y/n said they're called Dum-Dums." Soap pulls it out of his mouth, twisting the stick of the lollipop around in his fingers as if he were inspecting it. "This one's a cotton candy flavor."

"She gave you a fuckin lollie?"

"It's pure dead brilliant I tell ya. Why, did she not give ya one?"

More silence. Simon would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't a tad bit butthurt.

"Maybe you scared her." Soap jokes.

Simon lets out a grumbled incoherent huff and walks away.

Soap just shrugs and pops the lollipop back in his mouth.

Simon has a feeling he is going to go to bed thinking about his actions.

Part 2

[xcrust]

{His Regret}

Alastor X Reader

Important note!!

There is spoilers to the latest episode!!

also another note to have is that this is a little drabble with heavy angst. Like I may not be the best writer when it comes to emotions but trust on this.

This doesn't apply to my main story

at this point alastor just escaped adam so he doesn’t know that lucifer fought him.

Anyways To the Story!!

The rubble danced from the fight that was playing out. Well maybe it is more present tense. Hundreds dying for the sake of redemption? So beautiful but not if this is putting me back

“My power is fucking reduced to nothing, this just will not do”

The acrid stench of burning debris hangs thick in the air, assaulting the senses with a noxious cocktail of smoke, charred structures, and the metallic tang of spent ammunition. The once-vibrant cityscape now lies in ruins, the hotel reduced to skeletal frames adorned with tattered remnants of what were once homes and businesses.

Alastor strode through the corridors of his lair, What once was the powerhouse of his mayhem just dirt and disgust. A predatory smile that once adorned his face had transformed into a snarl of frustration.

His mind, a sanctuary of sadistic amusement, now simmered with a tempest of indignation. The audacity of this Adam, had struck a chord deep. If it weren't for this deal then he wouldnt of had to retreat from that poor excuse of a man. How could someone nearly unravel the intricacies of his power? It was an affront to his very essence, a challenge that gnawed at the edges of his sanity.

In his chamber, Alastor paced with a fevered intensity. His crimson eyes, usually filled with mirthful malice, now harbored a storm of malevolence. He replayed the confrontation in his mind, dissecting every move, every smirk, and every flicker of defiance that emanated from Adam.

"The nerve of that wretched creature," Alastor hissed to the shadows that clung to the corners of his lair.

His fingers drummed against the armrest of his grandiose throne, a rhythmic manifestation of the disarray within. The very thought of being challenged, of being outsmarted, clawed at the fragile veil of his composed madness.

The intruder slipped through the shattered remnants of buildings and overturned vehicles. The ground beneath their feet crunched softly with each step, the echoes a mere whisper against the eerie stillness of the war-torn ruins.

In an instant, Alastor closed the distance, pinning the intruder against the cold stone wall with a speed that defied the laws of the mundane. His hand wrapped around their throat, a deadly smile etched across his face.

He looked up and saw you. You, the one he's known the longest from the underground. The one he brought to become as powerful as you were. "Who would have thought it would come to this? Fate has a peculiar way of orchestrating its grand finale."

You, not only were the shackles that he was under but one that you held him in. He grew soft. Weak. You. Just an inconvenience. To get back his power. You needed to be gone.

The fear spread across your face met Alastor's gaze with a mix of confusion and dread. The demonic smile on the Radio Demon's face seemed to deepen as he traced a finger along the edge of your face.

"He almost had me," Alastor muttered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. The realization, the admission of vulnerability, hung heavily in the air. It was an unfamiliar sensation, an unwelcome intrusion into the sanctum of his pride.

A mirror stood nearby, a relic that once reflected the sheer delight he took in others' suffering. Now, he stared into it, searching for the elusive answers to his newfound discontent. The image that met his gaze was one of a demon on the brink, grappling with an unsettling truth—he was not invincible.

"Ah, the memories we've shared," Alastor continued, almost wistfully. "You, stumbling into my narrative like a lamb to the slaughter. Do you remember all the hell we raised together?"

As Alastor spoke, he seemed to drift into a reverie, his mind retracing the twisted paths of their interactions. The reader, still struggling against their restraints, watched with a sense of surreal horror as the demon reminisced about the moments leading to this ominous juncture.

Laughter started to echo the room. Grainy insane laughter. “Great Alastor died for his friends?” he choked out.

“Alastor? What are talking about” you try to push out. All you got was him glimpsing at you with pure disdain.

“I work best when unencumbered by the weight of sentimentality." Alastor's fingers tapped a rhythmic beat on the wall behind your neck, the subtle cadence underscoring his words.

"Baggage," he scoffed, the disdain evident in his voice.

In a moment the body of his oldest friend was on the floor.

"Do you not sense it, my dear reader? The freedom that comes with unburdened malevolence," he mused, circling you laid out on the ground.

"To be truly free, one must shed the baggage of morality, of attachments, of all that ties the soul to the mundane," Alastor whispered, his voice shaking with mania, a haunting melody that lingered in the air.

The laughter that usually echoed through the corridors was replaced by a guttural growl. Alastor's shoulders tensed as he unleashed a surge of dark energy, shattering nearby objects scattered across the room. Well at least the ones that still held up.

"Adam," he seethed, the name a curse on his lips. "You will regret toying with me."

Dark energy crackled around Alastor, a volatile aura that mirrored the storm within. His manic laughter echoed off the walls, bouncing like malevolent whispers in the confined space.

"I will not allow it!" Alastor roared, the once-charming smile contorting into a snarl of madness. "My power is mine alone to wield, to savor, and no interloper, no matter how curious or audacious, shall stand in the way!"

[thegnomelord]

speaking of unorthodox mating: scorpionflies! my favourite thanks to entomology and them being very useful 🦂 mainly because they mate on top of fresh corpses. wonder what ghost of any of 141 you choose from would react to such a colorful mate

I doubt any of them would be all that happy fucking on top of a dead dude, Ghost especially seeing he got stuck in a coffin with one before becoming a wraith, but you coming back to them, covered in dirt and so much enemy blood you look like a butcher? Oh yeah, instant boner.

CW:NSFW, reader is some kind of insect monster idk this is quick and rough

GHOST - The second he registers the blood on you, and the fact you shed blood to protect him, tickles something in his brain. It's the knowledge that despite him being able to protect himself, he has someone to look out for him. . . . it has something needy and hungry stirring inside him.

Before you know it he's pulling you to a secluded nook, claws made of solid shadow tearing your belt open so he can swallow your cock down, pearly tears smudging the dark face paint around his eyes as your cock pushes past his gag reflex, smiling around your length when you answer in a chitter of your mandibles, your claws gripping his head as you fuck his mouth.

SOAP - Oh, he's not even waiting to get somewhere private. Everything with wolves is a social affair so the second the enemy's dead and the bullets have stopped raining down on you two, he's right next to you, full body rubbing against you like a bear scratching against a tree. It makes his fur and your clothes matted with blood and werewolf hair, whining and growling for your attention as he scents you and grows progressively more aroused by the second because holy shit, you smell like death and war and such a potent mate.

It takes you serious effort to pull him somewhere more private before Price yells at you two, and before you can even open your pants Soap's already on the floor, head down and ass up, tail raised even higher and still wagging as slick leaks from his hole. He howls like a bitch when you push into him, going completely slack as soon as your sharp mandibles clamp down on his scruff — not enough to draw blood, but strong enough to hold him down as you plow into him.

GAZ - He's a lot more sneaky about his attraction, acting like a doting mate when you two sit in the plane back to base, wiping away the blood that had congealed on your wings and elytra, chirping so sweetly to every little chitter and click you make, fingers reverently tracing your bloodied mandibles to the point the other's are complaining about you two being an old married couple.

His moans are equally as sweet as he begs to feel those sharp mandibles around his throat as you fuck him into the mattress, his wings pinned down beneath him and fully trapped like he's a piece of meat for you to consume. It's the danger of what your dangerous mandibles can do added to the knowledge you'd never hurt him that has him cumming in record timing, chirps broken up by hiccups as you just continue to fuck him.

PRICE - Oh, he holds out the longest, face and tone of voice betraying nothing as he tells you to get cleaned up, while inside he's purring like a tractor. He knows he shouldn't feel like this, that it's more than wrong fraternizing with you when he's your captain, but the way you'd looked covered in blood does something to him.

His claws rake down your front as he rides you slow and deep, slitted pupils taking in every little twitch of your wings and click of the mandibles, your desperate moans stroking his draconic pride as you beg to let you cum. And Price just tuts, "Come on, wouldn't want to disappoint me now?" He says, voice like a honeyed sticky trap, and you can do nothing but nod your head and try to hold on while Price tests your sanity by riding you into the early hours of the morning.

[houserautha]

This Body, This Flesh

Summary: You thought what you wanted more than anything was for Feyd-Rautha to return from the dead. You were wrong.

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: mentions of fighting and death, angsty, some kissing

A/N: Dune Wiki describes a ghola as, “an artificially created human, who was replicated from a dead individual”. When I first read about a ghola in “Dune Messiah” (I’m reading the series for the first time, like a bandwagon fan) I thought it posed so many interesting possibilities and unnecessary angst😂😈 Excuse any inaccuracies

Feyd-Rautha was dead.

You had been there when Paul Atreides slipped the crysknife into the soft flesh of his jaw and into his skull.

So then why was he standing in front of you?

Your knees quiver. Was your mind playing a trick on you? Perhaps your grief had warped your sanity. You close your eyes, shake your head as if to dislodge the vision.

“Go away,” you choke out. “I know you’re not real.”

The Feyd-Rautha — if it could be called that, he certainly was a figment of your imagination — tilts his head slightly in a move purely reminiscent of your lover. “You are not pleased to see me,” he rasps, the same voice you heard when you could not sleep, haunting your dreams.

You feel the burn of tears behind your eyes. You close them. “Of course I’m pleased to see you. But you — you’re not real.”

“Maybe not as I once was.”

In the distance, the sound of fervent footsteps slapping the ground, accompanied by panicked breathing, force you to open your eyes. It’s a servant. A young one, wide-eyed and reddened, either by shame or exertion or both.

“Lady Y/N, my humblest apologies —”

You snap at him, “What is this?”

“Lady Y/N —”

“I am a gift. For you,” Feyd-Rautha says. His dark eyes are unsettlingly familiar, studying you as you grapple for a response.

“What is he…?” Your eyes flicker to him, then back to the servant, “…it… talking about?”

Your heart pounds furiously in your chest. This morning you lay awake, blinking the sun and tear-prompted crust from your eyes, and thought only of seeing Feyd-Rautha again. And now he was here. Your mind refused to cooperate with your battling emotions, waging war within you.

“I was supposed to explain, Lady Y/N. I apologize. I tried to stop him but he insisted on coming here straight away.” The servant shuffles his feet. “I-I couldn’t outrun him. He is a gift. A ghola. From the Bene Tleilax.”

A ghola.

Of course.

The foolish, childish hope that the real Feyd-Rautha had miraculously been resurrected slowly wanes, slipping through your fingers. Your chin wobbles as devastation seizes you.

The servant, mistaking your stunned silence, eagerly adds, “The Baron wanted you to have him.”

You offer a stiff nod. “Thank you. You may leave us.”

“Should I extend your gratitude to the Baron?”

“No.” On a different occasion, you might’ve ripped the boy’s head from his neck for proposing such a thing and implicating your rudeness. “Leave.”

The servant scurries away.

Feyd-Rautha is watching you closely, but does not speak.

You, on the other hand, are afraid that if you don’t you might tear apart at the seams. “How…How much do you remember?”

The urge to cross the space between you to touch him, to touch the fatal spot where the knife had slid in, robbing you of him, is too strong. You hope he doesn’t notice you staring. To refrain from indulging in the urge, your hands clench into fists at your sides.

“Not much,” the ghola admits. “Just…fleeting glimpses.” His gaze sweeps your surroundings, landing on you in almost a pleading way, like he’s hoping that you will give him answers. “I needed to come here. To you.”

“This was our room,” you tell him. You hesitate. “Do you remember me?”

“You’re Lady Y/N.”

Disappointment stabs at your heart. “You don’t.”

Feyd-Rautha — no, the ghola (you mustn’t let yourself think of them as one and the same) — shakes his head. “No.”

A strangled sob escapes from you unwittingly, and you turn away.

A gift? No. This was the most severe punishment: The man you loved returned to you, but with no memories of the life you shared, none of the substance that had initially captivated you about the na-Baron. The voice, the features — every goddamn look and gesture, but nothing more than a Bene Tleilax puppet.

“I may not remember you, but something in this flesh does.”

Hope flutters traitorously in your chest. “What?”

“I don’t know how to explain it.” The ghola takes a tentative step toward you. “I may not recall the memories of your past together but this body standing before you, this flesh, carries the echos of your bond. In this physical form, I am a testament to the love you once knew, a vessel for those memories.”

Moved by the ghola’s admittance, tears flow freely down your cheeks now. “You kept saying…you. Not our.”

Of course he didn’t. Why did you mention it?

“Yes.” His jaw clenches. “I’m sorry.”

You laugh bitterly. “Don’t apologize. Feyd never would’ve done that.”

Feyd-Rautha — what remains of Feyd-Rautha, anyway — flashes you a look of regret. Guilt. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, Lady Y/N. I can leave.”

“No, please, don’t,” you say. You scrub the tears from your face, embarrassed by the display of vulnerability. “None of this is your fault.”

“May I come in?”

He had been standing in the threshold of the doorway, reminding you of the many times that Feyd had done the very same thing, discussing battle strategy and politics and even lovemaking. You avert your gaze and wave him in, hoping he didn’t see the sudden blaze of your cheeks.

However, you notice him stride past in your peripheral identically to your lover and settle on the edge of the bed. To keep yourself from further jabs of pain, you feign an interest in the view outside the window, fingers tapping restlessly on the pane.

“What was he like?” The ghola asks finally.

“You don’t know?”

You pose the question carefully, hopefully in a manner of nonchalance. What would the ghola think of their bloody origin? It must be terrible to belong to someone else entirely. Especially someone such as Feyd, who answered with his blade faster than he asked questions. A man with no restraint, no fear, and until the very end, no consequences.

You squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to ward off the images of his final moments.

“I’ve seen…things. I was hoping that you would be able to elaborate.”

“Don’t you want to be your own person?”

“What do you want me to be?”

An innocent enough question. You swallow. “I want you to be someone who is gone.”

The flow of the conversation brings you to face him, reflexive, and the action pains you all over again. “I’m sorry, this is incredibly hard for me.”

His chin dips. “I understand.”

He rises to his feet and starts toward the door. Without thinking, you chase after him. You’ve let your emotions get the better of you and, before you know it, you’ve pulled him against you.

Fuck, he even smelled just like Feyd.

You find that everything is the same as you remember it, your muscles moving all on their own, pushing you up on your tiptoes and your lips on his.

He embraces you then. Immediately. Without any awkwardness or hesitation, and it’s just enough to make you forget that it’s not him.

The kiss is wild, desperate, full of unspoken things that you wish you could’ve told him as he bled out before your eyes. Pleasure uncoils from inside you like a snake seeking the warmth of the sun, slipping out from the darkness and into the light.

Feyd-Rautha grabs hold of your waist and together you stumble backwards, unable to differentiate where he began and you ended. He pushes you against the wall as your kiss deepens. Your hands rove his body — the slope of his shoulders, the plane of his chest, the ridges of scars from past fights that are only all too familiar to you. A thought emerges, unbidden:

This ghola had never been in those fights.

Couldn’t retell the story of each one affectionately the way Feyd did, as if they were done by a lover’s touch and not the blade of an enemy.

You plant your hands on the ghola’s chest and shove. Hard. The heat in your belly, unable to separate what you were feeling from what you knew, rebels against this, the absence of his touch. You have half the mind to reach out and pull him into you again.

The ghola just stares.

“This is wrong,” you manage to gasp. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

His lips swollen by your kiss, the ghola stammers, “I-I didn’t —”

“You should go.” An indescribable pain crashes over you, dragging you into the depth of its severity.

He nods once. Then again.

The ghola brushes past you to leave and every fiber of your being screams at you not to let him go. But you don’t listen. Instead you wait until he’s gone, ensuring that he’s not coming back, and then collapse to the ground on your knees.

You mourn the man you loved. You mourn the person you were before. And you mourn the fact that this ghola has taken from you the opportunity to mourn.

Feyd-Rautha was dead.

[dabislittlemouse]

tainted angel🪽 (pt.3)

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 4

ෆ DABI X HAWKS’ LITTLE SISTER

ෆ cw: Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, corruption kink, smut and dubcon incoming, stalking

The dead silence of the night is always something that calms me down. When the whole city is asleep, that’s when I head out, walking on random dark alleyways and empty parks with no destination in mind, just to clear my head.

Though this time there was a destination. It had been 3 hours since the phone call with my angel, by now she should be asleep.

Unless she was lying to me. That will get her in trouble.

But no. As I reached her house and climbed on her balcony, the lights were already off. A grin forms in my face as I notice that the balcony door was open, letting the chilly breeze creep inside her room.

So inviting.

Entering inside, I can see some of the surroundings, my eyes easily adjusting in the darkness.

Ah.

There she lays, in a deep sleep wearing nothing but a silky nightie, her white fluffy wings smaller and spreading on the bed. Her pretty golden hair falling on her face, her breathing is slow and soft, my hungry eyes already fixed on the movement of her chest. She has to be a real angel, cause no human out there has ever looked this mesmerising. My scarred hand reaches to remove the hair off her face, careful to not wake her up. My finger caresses her cheek softly, then it goes down to her chin, and trailing lower, reaching her chest.

I can see her nipples perking through the fabric of her nightie.

You’re a fucking tease y’know that babe? Leaving the balcony door wide open, wearing something like this. You knew I was coming didn’t cha?

I reach closer, my face mere inches away from her figure, as I take in her scent. Fuck, the same sweet intoxicating scent as before. It makes me salivate, the sight in front of me is making it harder and harder to not do anything reckless right now.

I am more than capable to fuck her just like this, or play with her lovely tits while I jerk myself off. Until she wakes up, panicking and horrified at the sight of a stranger stroking his cock to her sleeping figure. Damn that would really traumatise you angel.

I need to be patient. Can’t have her scared off, running to her brother for help, where’s the fun in that?

“Oh, I’ll make you fall f’me” I whisper, my lips press softly against her forehead. “I’ll have ya question your morals and your sanity soon enough”

I reach to the pocket of my coat, grabbing a few small blue flowers that I picked while walking earlier. Thankfully they weren’t crushed. I put them right on her bedstand, a little gift for when she wakes up in the morning.

Before I make my way to leave I notice the amount of plushies and small figurines she’s collected around.

“Cute” I mumble to myself before disappearing in the night. She’s gonna have to tell me ‘bout her collection one day.

****

The tomorrow’s meeting was about all the support and supplies we’d be gathering on the upcoming war against heroes once Shigaraki wakes up. A bunch of boring crap really, but as a lieutenant I had to show up and pretend that I care. Didn’t get much sleep last night, and for some reason those bastards just looove to have meetings in the morning. Helps to start the day fresh they say. Buncha’ idiots.

My mind is filled with nothing but her.

Damn it doll, y’gonna have me lose this war if you don’t leave my mind. I’ll have to punish you real bad for that.

“Hawks, what a pleasure to have you back again!” ReDestro says. I sit back on the chair, a lazy smile spreading across my face at the sight of the number two hero.

I jerked off to your sister’s voice last night, hero. And you have absolutely no idea.

I cough slightly, trying not to laugh.

After the meeting ends, I reach for Hawks, throwing an arm around him as if we’re close buddies.

“Oh hey man!” he laughs nervously.

“Such boring meeting don’t cha think?” I say, pulling a pack of cigarettes from my pocket. I offer him one but he declines.

“Yeah maybe, but every meeting has its importance.” he replies and I just roll my eyes.

I remove my arm off him, my eyes fixed on his.

“How is your sister doing?” I grin, puffing smoke out of my mouth, directly on his face, which is irritated with annoyance.

“Since when do you care about her now? I told you to not bring her up” Hawks replies sternly.

“Man you’re no fun. M’just trynna have a conversation here.” I raise both my hands, but he knows better than to believe I don’t have any sick intention behind all of this.

“I made sure to warn her that day to stay far away from you” Hawks says.

“You warned her that same day?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yup. She has no business with you”

The same day she was warned. She ignored the warning and continued talking to me on the phone the other day, giving me the damn blue balls with her sleepy sexy voice. Angel, aren’t you naughty?

Not containing my thrill any longer, I head outside the PLF mansion, walking towards the forest. Outside it’s sunny, the brightness making me squint and almost killing my eyes.

I grab my burner phone, dialling her number. She picks up almost immediately.

You thrilled too huh?

“Rise and shine, angelface. Slept well?”

Of course you slept well. You lay there so pretty and peacefully, I saw you myself.

“Morning Dabi!” she says, excitement clear in her high pitched voice.

After a small chitchat, I decide to.. poke her a little.

“I hope you liked my gift~” I say and for a few seconds I was met with silence.

“…gift?” she mumbles in confusion, before letting out a small gasp. For sure her eyes fixed on the blue flowers that popped up out of nowhere in her nightstand.

“Stop with those jokes” she laughs nervously.

“Y’think I’m joking around? You wound me princess, after all that I went through to gather some pretty flowers just for you..”

Her breathing becomes irregular. Damn, did I scare you?

“H-How did you get them in my room?”

“How do you think?”

“Umm…”

Poor angel, you’re stressing out.

“By the way” I interrupted, changing the topic. I decide to not answer her questions, and just leave her be with her thoughts. “Hawks told me you’re forbidden from talking to me~”

“Y-yeah but..” she swallows. “He won’t give me any reason why. And also, I don’t need guidance anymore, I am not a child..”

“Exactly” I grin. “You’re a big girl. M’sure you’re more than capable of making your own decisions, right princess?”

“Yeah.. right” she says, doubt in her voice. “But anyways, about the flowers you still didn’t-”

“Oh shit, I gotta go. Talk t’ya later” I say, before hanging up.

I have in fact nowhere to go. I just wanted to leave her drown in questions without answers, in overthinking and confused emotions. As much as I want to get her and make her mine, I decide that to have her yearning for me and her poor little heart burning for me is way better instead.

Her brother won’t give her a clear answer as to why I should not be approached. She still doesn’t know how those flowers got there, her brother’s best friend would never do anything bad right? Like, getting inside her room in the middle of the night when she’s asleep, salivating at her like a depraved man. He would never.

But you’ll see much more of me soon.

I send her a text message, I need to move things further.

If she shows up, there’s no turning back.

Tags: @mostlyheinous @touyalove @awalkingshame @ch3rrykoolaid @dabihawksluva @syrenkitsune

[florencemtrash]

Flame, Shadow, Beast : Shadow

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Angst (specifically a very angsty Azriel)

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Azriel gripped his glass so tightly in his fist he wondered if it would shatter. 

Another year gone. Another year without you. Another year where the guilt ate at his stomach and heart so fiercely he wondered if he was hollow on the inside. 

Azriel! WAIT! No! Please, no! AZ! HELP ME!

“Azriel.” Cassian’s voice brought him back to reality, a reality where he sat at an empty booth looking murderous as he tried to drown out the past with his ninth drink of the night.

“Cass.” He said stiffly. His voice was as steady and clear as if he hadn’t drank at all. Cassian could never tell if it was because the alcohol didn’t affect him, or because he was incredible at faking sobriety - either was possible when it came to Az.

“This is the fourth night in a row.”

“You’re perceptive. You should take my job.” Azriel’s voice was so dead and emotionless it frightened him.

“Stop this and come home.” Cassian said, almost begging. 

Azriel grit his teeth and said nothing, downing the rest of his drink and silently gesturing to the bar for another one. When the drink came, Cassian snatched it up first. Maybe the drinks had affected him, because on any other day, Azriel could strike faster than lightning.

“Rhysand has a job for you.” He said, pulling on the small collection of words guaranteed to bring some life to his brother.

Azriel’s spine snapped straight and Cassian flinched at how quickly his brother - brooding and sarcastic as he may be - was replaced by The Shadowsinger. 

“What’s the job?”

Find Bryaxis. Those were the two words that had sent Azriel flying into the night sky and across all of Prythian, chasing after the demon that had eluded them since the end of the war against Hybern.

For over a decade they’d all held their breath when it came to the ancient creature. For over a decade they’d been plagued by more pressing matters than a beast who seemed content to remain hidden and out of mind. Still, Azriel hadn’t forgotten about him. No, he was like a loose thread on a piece of clothing - forever destined to tug and unravel at Azriel’s shortening patience and sanity. 

Nesta had felt something. Something she wasn’t sure of - Bryaxis looming over all of Prythian like a shadow before curling up into a sliver of smoke and disappearing for good. 

They’d written to Elain to see if she had seen anything through her Eye, but she’d also been experiencing blind spots in her vision. The future was always full of events, some malleable and some concrete, but it was more unclear than ever before - like someone had shattered a mirror and she was left to string the pieces back together.

Azriel shook his head, emptying his mind of thoughts of Elain. It would do him no good. Thoughts concerning Elain were painful enough now that she’d left the Night Court… they were made even worse because they always traced their way back to you. Like how rivers must always find their way back to the sea, Azriel found himself drawn back to memories of you, so bright and full of heat they blinded and burned him. Your smile, your laugh, the grim determination on your face as you stared him down during sparring matches. You’d been his anchor without him even knowing it. 

And now you were gone. And it was all his fault.

Stupid, stupid fool. He hissed at himself.

Threads of information concerning Bryaxis were sparse and limited, but Azriel chased after them all, finding himself deep within the gleaming workshops of Dawn, the silent and cherished libraries of Day, and the sea-whipped bellies of Summer Court ships before finally tracing Bryaxis to the Autumn Court.

This has to be handled delicately. It is imperative that no one discovers you. 

Azriel saw Rhysand’s familiar graceful penmanship, read the words, and immediately crushed the note in his hand, casting it into the dying fire. The paper folded and crumpled from the heat before turning to ash.

He huddled down in the mountains that crossed the line between Winter and Autumn, grateful to be free from the cutting winds. Beyond the frozen lake were rolling hills of bejeweled forest. He wouldn’t risk flying now. From here he’d travel through shadows and by foot, getting as close to the Forest House as he dared.

If his intuition was right (and it so often was), if Eris knew Bryaxis was within the borders of his court, he would keep him close. Close enough to monitor, close enough to kill if need be. But what The High Lord of Autumn would want with Bryaxis, Azriel had no idea.

With the issue of succession dealt with and Eris planted on the High Lord’s seat, there came less and less of a need to continue relations between Autumn and Night, at least between Autumn and the Court of Dreams. After the war and until a month ago, nearly all of Eris’s dealings had been with Keir and the Court of Nightmares. Rhysand wanted to change that, and that meant if Azriel wanted to search for Bryaxis in Autumn, he would have to do it in secret. Eris would sooner pluck out his eyes than let any member of the Inner Circle scour his lands voluntarily.

Azriel traveled from town to town, inching ever closer to the Forest House, which curled up beneath the earth like a sleeping giant. That was the issue with the Forest House - hardly anyone knew the size of it, and that meant Azriel could be walking above a watchguard stronghold and not realize until it was too late. 

Something stirred within him when he reached one of the Forest House border towns. Everywhere people seemed brighter, livelier than when Beron had been alive, but this place… this place was filled with an uncharacteristic casualness and joy. The marketplace bustled with activity even in the early morning. Plump fruits, freshly baked bread, and sticky treacle candies wrapped in wax paper were laid out with care on hand-built carts decorated with golden chrysanthemums and sunflowers. 

You would have loved this place.

No. This wasn’t what he’d come for. He’d come to distract himself with work and to find Bryaxis.

Azriel slipped up the trees and settled in between two arching branches, straining his ears to hear the talk that went on below. His shadows slithered out to gather information his senses couldn’t reach.

“Faula’s with child, can you imagine! After so-”

“Thirty?! Why, how could you charge so much! The High Lo-”

“Four dozen eggs, two pounds of flour, six slabs of butter, and-”

“Will Our Lady be coming?” 

Azriel’s ears pricked up, blocking out the hushed conversation that went on around the pair of females who sat on milk crates and peeled apples under the cover of a thatched roof. The crisp sound of a knife sliding between fruit and peel followed by the thunk of a cored apple dropping into a barrel was a soft rhythm to Azriel’s ears.

“To ours?! Good gods, Rebessa, to think that she’d spend the harvest here.”

“She lives close by. It’s not as though we’re strangers to her and she’s wonderfully kind!”

“I hear she’s been invited elsewhere.”

The female gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth. “Elsewhere?”

“Elsewhere.” 

“Do you think he’ll-”

“Shhhhh. You mustn’t say anything. I’m not even supposed to know.” 

“Well how’d you find out?”

“Syndra says he’s been visiting jewelers and carpenters every week. He could be preparing a new room… or a bridal chest.”

“About time! And will he be going with her?”

“He follows wherever Our Lady goes.”

“Shame. He was unnerving, but welcome. Haven’t lost a sheep or hen in ages.” 

They continued on, whispering between their bowed heads of matching ruby-colored hair. Autumn Court members were crafty and secretive by nature, an unfortunate byproduct of existing beneath the thumbs of one brutal and cunning High Lord after another. But it would seem their tongues had loosened in the years since Eris had come into his power.

Our Lady. 

Elsewhere. 

He.

Azriel rolled the words around in his mind like a rough-cut stone in a tumbler, then set off to find the “he” who followed this Lady wherever she went.

As he slipped through the village, searching for a home that would be fit enough for a Lady of Autumn, there were two things he noticed. First, the stirring in his chest had grown stronger, like the pulling of the sea as it went out with the tide or the beating of a firefly’s wings against glass. Second, for a town of this size, even one that lay so close to the Forest House, there were only a handful of guards left to trot around atop their horses and an additional handful that patrolled the paths to the fields on foot. Whoever this Lady was, she offered them enough protection and power that Eris would willingly leave it vulnerable - at least in appearance.

Azriel’s nerves sparked with interest, his heart thrumming with the adrenaline that came with staying hidden. It was like a game of sorts. A game of how far he could go, how deep into a court could he burrow, how many secrets he could steal from tight lips without getting caught. 

When he came across the cottage beyond the borders of town, nothing but the faint trail made by footsteps and horse hooves hinting at its existence through the break in the treeline, he was unimpressed. No wave of power rushed over him. No hunting dogs or other monsters were posted at the door. The only thing that strengthened, and had continued to strengthen as he neared this place, was that fluttering tightness in his chest. 

He couldn’t tell if it was his instincts on edge or a bad omen of what was to come. 

There was a flat, empty stretch of land from the treeline to the front door. He called upon his shadows, drawing his power over himself to hide as he slinked across the grass soundlessly. His feet knew where to step, his lungs knew when to take breath, until suddenly he was at the side door. A peek in through the window confirmed his suspicions. 

There was no one here. 

He pressed his fingertips to the walls of the house, feeling the magic splinter outward like a ripple on a still lake. It was an unassuming, but powerful spell that wrapped around the house like a second skin. But Azriel was craftier than that, poking for weak spots in the magic and finding an opening in the chimney. 

He broke through the veil of magic, slipped into the darkness, and emerged on the other side inside the house. 

It was the smell that dropped him to his knees, the scent of witch hazel, rosemary oil, and oranges, clean and bright and warm all at the same time. 

It smelled like you. 

All thoughts of his mission and staying hidden at all costs were wiped from his mind. Now he searched for you.

He walked as if in a trance, finding pieces of you everywhere. He found you in the half-drunken mug of tea sweetened with honey and lavender syrup on the kitchen counter. He found you in the embroidery on the curtains - dainty flowers and vines used to patch up the holes and scratches with a personal touch. He found you in the fingerprints that stained the outer leaves of the books on the table. 

All these small things spoke a truth he hadn’t dared hope for in over a decade.

You were still alive.

He whirled around, searching the space with desperation for any further signs of you. But the house was empty and still, pieces of furniture missing like you’d been preparing to leave.

You slipped into your house, pressing a finger against your lips in warning to Bryaxis.

Stay silent. 

The monster obeyed, his neck twisting to the side at an unnatural angle as his body grew in size, shadowy flesh warping and stretching until he’d taken the form of a bear. 

Your eyes turned black. Power whispering at the edges of your mind just waiting to be called upon. You flexed your hands, calling your sword from the ether and feeling its familiar weight drop into your palm. 

There was a stranger in your home. A male from the looks of his build and height. He rummaged through the drawers by the door, deft fingers pulling out letters and keys while his other hand gripped his weapon.

You aimed the sword in the center of their back, tracing their spine with your eyes and pressing it against the space between two vertebrae, right at the root of their lungs.

“Drop the sword.” You commanded, pressing harder. The blade sliced through the layers of leather armor with ease. A wrong move, too deep a breath, and you’d slice through their spinal cord and leave them paralyzed on the floor.

Azriel’s heart hammered away in his chest and the feeling there twisted and ate away at him. Turn around. The voice commanded. Look at her.

His hold on his sword went slack, the metal singing before it clattered onto the floor. Without being asked, he unsheathed Truth-Teller, dropped it to the floor and slid the weapon back towards you, holding his breath as your boot stopped the ancient blade in its tracks with a solid thump.

You hadn’t recognized him. How could you? It was unnatural to see him in undyed leather armor and his raven black hair was tucked beneath a matching hood. The rich browns of the amour whispered of Autumn. He must have stolen it shortly after crossing the border into your court. But Truth-Teller? There was no mistaking it.

You grabbed him by the back of his jacket, spun him around, and slammed him against the wall before ripping off the hood with a snarl. The cool touch of your blade against his throat and between the slats of his ribs couldn’t stop what he knew was coming. 

The bond burst to life and burned within his chest, swooping and singing like a bird off a cliffside. It was a breath of fresh air. An answer to all his maddening questions.

“Hello Y/n.” His voice rang out in the house, deep and dark and all too familiar. 

You froze, eyes blowing wide open as you tightened your hold on the knife and sword until your knuckles turned white. 

Aside from the clothes he didn’t look any different from the last time you’d seen him. Same black hair, same hazel eyes that shone a million different colors, same beautiful, sculpted face spoiled by an uncharacteristic look of shock and awe. 

He looked the same as he did on the day he handed you over to Beron. 

You for Elain. 

You in exchange for the female he loved.

The betrayal still stung like salt rubbed into a fresh wound. 

Fury set your blood boiling and you answered its call, drawing back and slamming your fist into the side of his jaw so hard you felt something crack and split.

Azriel fell to the ground, catching himself on one hand as the other flew up to his jaw. 

Dislocated. 

He popped it back into place, wiping his mouth and seeing his hand come away red with blood. 

Azriel’s heart threatened to stop in his chest. His eyes crawled over the sight of you, hungry and desperate for every inch of proof that you stood before him. Your eyes were alight, brighter than any fire the world could set ablaze. Everything about you was wide and full of feeling as you stood above him, 

Inside his chest, the mate bond continued to purr happily, refusing to be silenced.

“Y/n.” He said again. The words fell like a prayer from his lips. “You’re alive.” 

“No thanks to you.” 

Bryaxis growled in agreement from your side, lips pulling back to expose teeth stronger than metal and smooth as porcelain. Azriel’s eyes flickered down to him in surprise before going back to you. 

“Bryaxis. You’re his master now.” A flash of pride warmed his chest. Leave it to you to take control of one of the most dangerous monsters in existence. Cassian would lose his mind when he found out.

Again, the creature growled, this time in disgust.

At the mention of the creature you’d come to consider a worthy friend you snapped out of your stupor and pointed the sword at his chest, just beneath his sternum, pressing down. Any more force and you’d break skin. Angle it upwards and push and you’d reach his heart.

“Y/n, please.” He begged. It was another shock to your system. You’d never heard him beg for anything. 

“What do you want?” The words came out hard and trembling.

“I came to find Bryaxis and bring him back to the Night Court. I… I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” 

“Obviously. And yet you’re in my house. Uninvited, might I add.” There was an edge to your voice that hadn’t been there before, a harder gleam to your eyes despite everything else remaining the same. There were some scars that did not write themselves onto skin.

“I… How did you survive?” 

Your lips tightened and turned pale, “Are you shocked? Disappointed?”

Azriel flinched. Your words may as well have been another blow to his face. The flesh around his jaw was beginning to bruise, shifting from an inflamed red to a mottled purple. 

“No!” Azriel lifted his hands up in surrender. “We searched for you. We searched for you for weeks… You have to believe me.” You searched his eyes for an answer, expecting to be met with his usual unreadable expression. But you found the exact opposite. He seemed… lost. Like he didn’t know what to do with himself. If you didn’t know better you would say the Shadowsinger looked frightened.

“I’m sorry.” he gasped, “For everything.” 

It was too late for apologies. Far too late. You told him as much.

“I know,” Azriel swallowed thickly, “I know.” He said again, quieter this time. Something within him dimmed.

“Bryaxis isn’t coming with you.” You said, breaking the silence and finally taking the pressure of your sword off his chest. Azriel moved back onto his feet as swift and strong as a river. “Now get out.” 

You turned your back to him, shrugging off the uncomfortable feelings that weighed on your shoulders. You’d be happier when he was long gone.

“You can run back to Rhys and tell him you failed.”

“Y/n-” His hand brushed against your arm, willing you to look at him again. And you did. You whirled on him in an instant, shoving him back with the hilt of your sword.

“Don’t touch me.” You growled. He flinched again like he’d been burned. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I-” He scrambled for words that wouldn’t come. Anything to hold on to you for a little while longer, “Why didn’t you come back to the Night Court? Why didn’t you come home?”

A stupid question to which he already knew the answer.

“That was never my home and there’s nothing left for me there.”

Azriel shook his head, hair shining like a raven’s wing in flight, “That’s not true.” 

I’m there. He sent his pleas through the bond. I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been waiting for you for years… for my whole life. 

“It is true.”

“And there’s more for you here?” Azriel asked quietly. “You live here on your own, no friends, no family.” 

“I didn’t have friends or family in the Night Court either.” You weren’t going to tell him about Eris or Halvor or the others. He didn’t have any right to that knowledge, “You proved that when you traded me away to Beron.” 

Azriel tipped his head forward, closing his eyes to the feeling of shame that weighed him down.

Azriel! WAIT! No! Please, no! AZ! HELP ME! 

“It was Rhys and I who made the decision. The others didn’t know. Don’t hate them for what we did.” 

Your laugh came out like a sharp bark, “I have a hard time believing that.” 

If the circumstances were different, he might have pulled down the neck of his shirt and shown you the thin scar on his shoulder, courtesy of Nesta stabbing him with a kitchen knife after she’d learned what he’d done. She would have gone for a second attempt if it hadn’t been for Cassian. He’d dragged her away screaming and crying. 

“It’s true. I swear it.” Azriel whispered.

You didn’t say more, didn’t give him the satisfaction of continuing the conversation. His eyes burned into you, moving across your body with a lover’s touch like you were a well and he was looking to drown.

Before you would have melted under his gaze. Before you’d wanted nothing more than to see him look at you this intently. Things had changed.

“I’ll give you an hour to leave these lands. If you’re not long gone by then, I’ll send Bryaxis after you.” 

The creature bristled with excitement, teeth bared in a terrifying smile.

“Y/n-” Azriel begged. “Please. The others-”

“I don’t care about the others.” Your voice cracked and you hated yourself for it. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“I don’t care what you believe or don’t believe.”

“Y/n…” He knew you were serious about your threat and that time was ticking, but he needed to see you again. He needed it like flame needs oxygen. “The others didn’t know…” 

To your surprise he dropped down to one knee in front of you, eyes tilted towards the ground.

“I hate what I did to you. I hate that I hurt you and.. And I know…” He swallowed thickly, “I know I don’t deserve any kindness or forgiveness, but at least let the others see you… Let them visit,” He added after a short pause, “In Autumn, if that’s what you want.”

“Get out, Azriel.” 

To hear you say his name broke the dam on old memories, painful and numerous. Memories of you screaming out for him to help you when Beron’s men strapped the ashwood chains around your wrists and ankles. Screams begging him to take you home. Anywhere other than Autumn. Anywhere other than under Beron’s thumb.

Azriel! WAIT! No! No, no, no, no, no. Please, no! AZ! HELP ME! 

“Please. Consider it.” Azriel murmured. You turned away from him, looking at the engraved clock on the wall. Every tick tock of its hands felt like a death knell. 

“They’ll be glad to know you’re alive and safe… more than you know.” 

You said nothing, heard nothing as he took his things and slipped out of your house. But you felt his absence like a stone in your stomach. It wasn’t until Bryaxis nudged your waist that all the anger, sadness, and longing crashed in around you. You broke down on the floor, and began to sob into Bryaxis’s side.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______

Author's note:

Yeahhhhhh, Azriel fucked up. But I feel like this would be in character for him? He gets fixated on the people in his life that he's able to 'save' (i.e., Mor and Elain) and especially because of the whole '3 sisters for 3 brothers' thing, I think he would be willing to make big sacrifices to save Elain if it came down to it... but perhaps I'm wrong. I would be curious to hear other people's opinions on it.

Anyhow, sorry for the sad and angsty chapter.

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy @esposadomd @imma-too-many-fandoms @bubybubsters

[sprout-fics]

Folks asked for a rewrite of the campaign, because frankly? Screw canon. I needed to do this for my own sanity.

In light of the absolute fuckery that was this campaign, I’ve worked on a re-write for several days in an attempt to create an improved campaign. This is my personal interpretation, which others are free to disagree with and write their own, but is hopefully a more comprehensive and enjoyable plot that what Activision gave us.

General notes: 

Urzikstan is completely removed from the campaign. That no longer becomes a factor. Farah and her forces have allowed peace to come back to Urzikstan, and we’ll leave it there. (I adore Farah, but the competing amount of characters needs to be simplified, and she had an entire game so far)

The main plotline is narrowed down to Makarov and Shadow/Shepherd, with a sidenote of the team dynamics deepening as their resolve to stop Makarov strengthens

The missions are changed up so we see more of an interaction from the Soap/Ghost and Price/Gaz mission pairings

Many of the missions remain the same, but are edited to a better context to fit the plotline and cohesiveness of the game. Additional missions for this re-write are noted with a (*)

We did chemical weapons in MWI, and then long range ballistic missiles in MWII. The natural ante to these two themes therefore becomes a nuclear attack (Which we see at the climax of the game)

Makarov becomes less of a terrorist going around provoking mass panic, and more a mastermind as he was in the originals that is deliberately trying to set the stage for a war against the United States/The West. His part of the game is full of false flag operations, which heightens tensions between the UK/USA and Russia, which threaten to boil over

The game is limited to the POVs of Soap, Gaz, and Yuri. Too many competing POVs makes for a complicated and hard to track story. This simplifies it considerably.

Additional changes: Improved graphics, music score to match the story, additional missions to lengthen the campaign to match the previous games, and new skins for characters

Campaign:

The game starts the same, with and unknown team making their way through a Russian prison in search of a specific prisoner.

Mission: Operation 627 The prisoner is Makarov, and is rescued from prison by an unknown POV, which is then revealed to be Yuri. Makarov, Yuri, and the remainder of the team launch a prison riot to cover their escape via boat.

Cutscene: We cut to the introduction of the team on the plane. Laswell informs them Makarov has escaped before they could get to him. Price reacts angrily, and conveys the news to the team.

Briefing: Laswell does have information that Konni group is regrouping north of Urzikstan, and that Makarov may be gathering his men there. The group agrees to infiltrate the complex in a capture or kill mission.

*Mission: Kill Switch (Soap POV) The team lays siege to a fortress in the Caucasus mountains, one that is heavily defended. Team banter, with a reminder from Price to stay focused. The group finds that the fortress itself is a diversion, one that is rigged. Soap is barely able to disarm the bomb in time - saving the team. The team laments that Makarov is already two steps ahead of them, but finds information inside the fortress that gives them a lead- and a chance to turn the tables.

Cutscene: We see Makarov reunite with his forces, introducing Milena. He then goes on to proclaim that his intent is to start a global war which will lead Russia to glory. Yuri is disturbed by this, and even more so when Makarov makes a comment regarding innocents in Verdansk being the beginning of this path of blood. The idea of involving innocent Russian citizens in this- a mass slaughter, does not sit well with him.

*Mission: Traitorous Intent (Yuri POV) The scene begins with Yuri sneaking around the Konni compound, looking for details regarding an upcoming attack. He reveals a photo of the Verdansk stadium. Makarov finds him snooping, and Yuri questions Makarov, trying to encourage him not to pursue this plan. There are several dialogue options where Yuri can directly challenge Makarov, or play stupid. Either way, Makarov shoots him, and gestures to his soldiers to dump Yuri’s body somewhere. Unbeknownst to Makarov, Yuri survives, and we see him struggling to safety, only to be captured by Russian loyalists. 

Briefing: Meanwhile, the team goes after a lead revealed from the fortress on the Konni group, who are sniffing around an abandoned nuclear reactor formerly belonging to General Barkov. Laswell sends the team in. 

Mission: Reactor (Gaz POV + Price) Soap and Ghost secure the perimeter, while Price and Gaz infiltrate. Gaz makes a comment about General Barkov leaving a hell of a mess. They find Konni group extracting canisters from the reactor, which begin to leak as they’re extracted. Gaz manages to get a tracker on the chemicals. The reactor room seals, trapping Gaz and Price inside. The team manages to extract them via a rope and ascender. Price forces Gaz to go up first, but in return is briefly consumed by toxic fumes. Price tries to stay with the team, but passes out as Ghost calls for med-evac

Cutscene: We find the team on board exfil, with the same banter as shown in game. Price is angry that Makarov is still ahead of them, and that they’re just chasing his tail.

Briefing: Laswell is able to get a hit on the location of the chemicals, a compound near the Black Sea. Strangely, there also appears to be missiles involved. The mystery of how Konni group got those missiles remains unknown, for now. Laswell sends in the team, and announces she herself will be rendezvousing with Nikolai to get in touch with a valuable contact. Price, who witnessed Laswell getting captured before, refuses to let her go alone, and sends Gaz with her.

Mission: Payload (Soap POV + Team) The team attempts to stop the missile launch, firing upon Konni forces. They discover that the missiles are topped with Barkov’s gas. Soap manages to rig one of the missiles to explode inside the silo, and has a timed mission to escape from the silo/blast radius. Upon succeeding, he RVs with Price and Ghost. Unfortunately, they are unable to stop the other missile from launching, and find it is headed towards Laswell and Gaz. Price tries to warn them- but there’s no response.

Cutscene, several hours earlier: We see Laswell and Gaz meet up with Nikolai. Gaz is excited to see an old friend. Nikolai gives them a warm welcome, and shares that one of Makarov’s men has defected, and has valuable information regarding Makarov’s whereabouts and his plans. They will need to infiltrate a Russian loyalist base to find him. Laswell and Gaz go to find the man of the hour: Yuri

Mission: Deep Cover (Gaz POV + Laswell) Laswell and Gaz stealth mission, where they are able to infiltrate the base and the prison complex to go find Yuri. Laswell uses overwatch to direct Gaz to steal a keycard and RVs with him outside the prison area. Yuri says he’ll only talk if he’s freed. Gaz protests, saying this could be a plant by Makarov, but Laswell agrees. As they free Yuri, Gaz and Laswell get a dispatch from Price- warning them too late of the impending attack. Gas fills the compound, and Yuri, Gaz, and Laswell must escape to higher ground. Laswell becomes unconscious during the escape, and Gaz carries her to safety. Nikolai manages to extract all of them via a rooftop.

Briefing: Gaz reports their status to the team, and conveys Laswell was injured. Laswell comes online, declares she’s fine, makes a comment about the gas being nasty stuff. “Tell me about it.” says Price. Laswell then goes on to share information given to her by Yuri: That Makarov is planning a slaughter in Verdansk. The team has only hours before the bloodbath begins.

Mission: Flashpoint (Soap POV + Team) Soap and the team try to intervene in the coming massacre at the Verdansk Stadium. This level begins with Soap trying to blend in. We get the easter egg of Riley the dog. Soap notices a suspicious amount of Russians disguised as Americans speaking English. It’s clear that this is a false flag operation intended to frame the United States. As Soap realizes this, the attack commences. In the chaos that follows, the disguised soldiers open fire on civilians. Soap RVs with the group and gears up. The team tries their best to sweep the area in search of Makarov- at last finding him disguised as a paramedic. He gets a passing shot at Ghost, who is injured. Soap encourages Price and Gaz to pursue, declaring he’ll stay behind with Ghost and defend him from the stragglers. Price and Gaz go in pursuit of the ambulance Makarov is in, we are left on a cliffhanger of what happens to Ghost

*Mission: Bait and Switch (Gaz POV + Price) Car chase scene where Gaz and Price go in pursuit of Makarov and his men. They must navigate the chaotic Verdansk streets and avoid civilians getting caught in the crossfire as Makarov and his men open fire. Yet the chase is just a distraction. As they cross a freeway in view of the airport, the airport explodes. Gaz and Price are stunned, but continue to chase Makarov. Makarov gets across a bridge, and then blows it up behind him. Gaz and Price screech to a halt, and escape the car before it crashes into the river below. Price rages at their failure, but is more concerned that Kyle has been injured. The team checks in with Soap and Ghost. Ghost is also injured, but alive.

Cutscene: The team reconvenes, injured but otherwise whole. Unfortunately with Makarov’s escape, the narrative is currently that the Verdansk massacre was indeed an attack by US forces, now pushing Russia and the US to the brink of war. Soap is visibly agitated by the carnage that happened, rankled more so by the injuries of his teammates. In the background we see Gaz tending to Ghost’s injury, sporting a bandage of his own. Price pats Ghost on the shoulder as he approaches Soap. Soap paces with frustration and tells Price that they should have killed Makarov when they had the chance. We then get a view of the past…

*Mission: Left Behind (Soap POV + Price) We see the team several years in the past, trying to avert another Makarov led disaster- an attack on the British embassy in Moscow. Makarov and his men intend to take the embassy hostage for ransom. We are introduced to a character in the past, who at first appears to be no one, but then Soap claps him on the shoulder and introduces him as Gary ‘Roach’ Sanderson. The mission begins as a sniper mission, but quickly devolves as the attack commences. As things escalate, the team is forced to decide between capturing Makarov and rescuing Roach. They have to leave Roach behind, and Gary is presumed KIA.

Cutscene: Back to the present. The team discusses how it was the right call to not kill Makarov, but Soap protests that if they did, maybe Roach would still be here, and Gaz and Ghost wouldn’t be injured. The others step in, and cooler heads prevail. Laswell announces they have one last lead on Makarov- Milena

Mission: Oligarch (Soap POV + Ghost) Ghost and Soap go on a stealth infiltration mission to Milena’s private island fortress, silently taking down the guards as they go. There’s a fair amount of banter involved. “Just like old times, ey LT?” “Oligarchs and cartels are a little different, Johnny.” (There’s a small note of ‘I wish Roach were here to see this to the end’) Inside, Ghost and Soap manage to corner Milena

Cutscene: Ghost and Soap interrogation tactics. They manage to access Milena’s accounts, and take the laptop with them. Milena tries to plead that Makarov will kill her, but Soap and Ghost aren’t in the mood for it. “Should have thought about that before working for a terrorist.” Says Ghost. As Soap and Ghost ex-fil, Laswell says she has a hit on Makarov. However, there’s also mysterious activity to off-shore American bank accounts revealed by Milena’s accounts. She’ll pull that thread while the team is busy.

Cutscene: Makarov and his men. Makarov says they got to Milena, and orders his men to kill whoever comes to the safehouse. He makes mention of a friend named ‘Shadow’. He then escapes.

Briefing: Milena’s intel shows a safehouse in St. Petersburg where Makarov and his forces are. Laswell sends Gaz and Price to clear the area, with the addition that Nik will ex-fil them via skyhook. They have full execute authority on Makarov.

Mission: Highrise (Gaz POV + Price) With Price on overwatch, Gaz infiltrates the building through the basement. It’s clear Makarov isn’t there, but his second in command is. Gaz, with Price’s sniper support, manages to get the second in command, and they exfil successfully. However, Andrei, Makarov’s second in command, makes a comment towards the captain. “Just how many more men will you lose to kill him, Captain Price?” Price punches him to unconsciousness.

Briefing: Price interrogates Makarov’s second in command offscreen, who reveals a prisoner transfer happening in Siberia. It could very well be the hit on Makarov they’re looking for. The team goes in pursuit.

Mission: Frozen Tundra. (Optional Gaz/Soap POV + Team) The team ambushes the convoy under the ice, and manages to save the prisoner who is drowning. Yet when they surface it becomes clear that it isn’t Makarov, but Shepherd- Shepherd, who had been missing since the end of Las Almas. The team exfils, taking down Makarov’s men along the way, and takes Shepherd into custody. This level allows you the choice of being Soap or Gaz, and each option offers unique dialogue options with the rest of the team.

Briefing: Celebrations have to wait. Unfortunately, Makarov is still in the wild. Now absent of many of his forces, his resources, and his finances, he manages to play one last card- nuclear attack against the United States. The team must stop him before he launches a global war. The team splits up. Price and Soap go to stop the nuclear missile from launching, and Ghost and Gaz go to kill Makarov once and for all.

*Mission: Launch (Gaz POV + Ghost) Gaz and Ghost after Makarov, fighting their way through Konni forces. The missile signals it is ready to launch, and Soap yells over the comms that Gaz and Ghost need to make it to the control room to override the sequence. This becomes a timed mission, and as Ghost and Gaz finally arrive and stop the override, they find that Makarov is absent. They realize too late he’s headed for the missile silo.

*Mission: Cataclysm (Soap POV + Price) Soap and Price fight their way through several challenging juggernauts, and manage to stop the launch in time but receive Ghost and Soap’s warning too late. We see Makarov come and attack Price. Price manages to disarm him, and the two engage in a knife fight. Price barks at Soap to continue stopping the launch. He’s successful. However, he turns to find Price bloody and beaten, and Makarov standing over him, ready to put a bullet between his eyes. Soap launches himself at him, and manages to wrestle the gun away. “I’m not losing anyone else. Not to you.” grunts Soap, only for Makarov pull a knife and stab at him. Soap screams in pain. He goes blind in his left eye and falls as he fades in and out of consciousness. At that moment, Gaz and Ghost arrive, and Gaz manages to get a shot at Makarov, who retreats. Ghost bends over Soap in distress, yelling for him. Soap is still alive but fading fast, and we see one last blurry vision of him and the team before Soap falls unconscious. 

Cutscene: We see the team gathered around a gravestone, absent of Soap. Ghost kneels down next to the gravestone and wordlessly runs a hand over it. We then zoom out to see the name on the stone: Gary Sanderson. It’s at that moment that the perspective shifts. We see Laswell from behind, and the team looks up at her, and then the second person beside her. It’s Soap (We can tell from the mohawk) We see the relieved faces of the team, but do not yet see Soap’s face. The team makes comments about how they’re glad he’s survived and in one piece. Price echoes the sentiment that he wishes their other member could join them. The team looks once more to Gary’s grave. At that moment, Laswell clears her throat. She then says this is perhaps poor timing, but she has news. She reveals information given to her by Yuri, handing Soap a folder of several papers. The camera rotates, and we see Soap’s face for the first time: sporting the same scar as the original Captain Soap MacTavish. He looks inside the folder, which reveals the location of Gary ‘Roach’ Sanderson, previously thought KIA, now a Russian prisoner. He’s alive.

After credits scene: We see the remainder of Makarov’s men assassinate the Russian president. Makarov ascends to power, now in control of Russia. The world is set for the stage of World War 3.

Bonus scene: We see Shepherd under house arrest, waiting trial. The guards outside are quietly removed. Shepherd finds Price sitting in his office. Price confronts Shepherd, who is unrepentant. Price kills Shepherd in retribution for the injuries and wounds suffered by his men, as well as the frustration of Makarov getting away. Price declares his loyalty to his team in the face of any enemy, even if they were once an ally. We see Price enter a new stage of brutality, where he goes forward with absolutely no regrets.

This is just my interpretation. Frankly in my head this is canon. These blorbos now belong to us and not Activision and I'm going to write them a happy ending, goddammit. I hope this was of some comfort to folks shattered by the campaign. Writing this really helped me get over my feelings for this game. I hope you enjoyed.

[buckrecs]

2023 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 3

masterlist | ✨- fav fics | status - completed

All of them are COMPLETE Series.

1. Galavano by @ichorai

Bucky x Reader

a series that follows the hero galvano through the events of the mcu!

2. Time (D)rift by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Dark!Bucky x Reader Apocalypse AU

The end has come and gone as you keep waiting for your own.

3. Uncontrollable by @fictional-affairs

Bucky x Widow!Reader

The year is 1992. The Winter Soldier is under HYDRA’s control, and the Red Widow is under Dreykov’s control, but when they find out their organizations are working together to have them kill each other, they decide to make a deal.

4. The Lake House by @rustytricycle

Dark!Bucky x Dark!Reader

You decide to spend the summer before Freshman year of college with two of your girlfriends at one of their parents’ lake house. It turns out that Captain America and his two best friends are staying next door. Bucky thinks you might be his perfect girl. But are you too perfect?

5. turn a blind eye by @sergeantxrogers

Bucky x Reader

The Winter Soldier was cold. Brutal. Unflinching. A machine formulated to comply. Bucky Barnes was the sun warming your skin, your happy pill. Loving him was like bittersweet liquor, sickeningly sweet when you sip, harsh and burning when you swallow.

6. Rooftop Sessions by @forever-rogue

Bucky x Therapist!Reader

Y/N is a therapist that works with war veterans that ends up meeting a mysterious stranger who asks for her help.

7. it’s all fun and games, until you catch feelings by @prettyyoungtragedy

Bucky x Reader

You’re pining after Steve and Bucky is pining after Nat, what better way to distract yourself from those two perfect humans than to distract yourselves with each other?! Fuck buddies it is then.

8. oh my delightful heart by @prettyyoungtragedy

Sequel to it’s all fun and games

Bucky Barnes is the sweetest dumbest most adoring boyfriend any girl could ever ask for... 

9. Follow My Lead by @ciarawritesmarvel ✨

Bucky x Reader

You and your new friend Wanda are enjoying a day together at the Avengers Tower, her giving you a tour around the place when you both run into the infamous Bucky Barnes. Moments later, he’s introducing you to Sam as his girlfriend and placing a kiss on your temple and you’re not sure you’ve ever been so confused in your life.

10. The Maid of Mr. Barnes by @disasterofastory

Mob!Bucky x Reader

You get a job as Mr. Barnes's maid. You heard about the notorious gangster, but since you desperately need money and a place to live, you are not in a position to be picky.

11. Guiding Light by @wkemeup ✨

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra. While you struggle to stay alive and hold your sanity, Bucky begins to lose himself to a darkness and gives into the soldier because he doesn’t know how to breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can.

12. Home | Better by @softlyspector ✨

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Bucky comes home from his second tour overseas, after a long time away from the reader.

13. Mad For You by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Nat hosts a costume masquerade. Bucky meets the Alice to his Hatter. Shenanigans ensue. 

14. Sanguis Sanguinis Mei by @captainscanadian

Vampire!Bucky x Vampire!Reader

It took Bucky Barnes two centuries with the blood of his blood to realize how much he loved her. This is their story. 

15. Another World by @sinner-as-saint

Alien!Bucky x Reader

In a futuristic world - a millennium from now, you and your team rescue and care for stranded and hurt otherworldly beings; who are held captive and kept on Earth against their wills. You save them from the bad guys who exploit them. You help them adjust to your planet’s life, and give them their freedom back. Then one day, while on a rescue mission, you come across a human-like extraterrestrial being; in a cryogenic chamber, with a missing arm. And nothing is ever the same again…

16. Picking Up The Pieces by @gogolucky13

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Bucky chooses to stay in his tumultuous relationship knowing you’ll be there to pick up the pieces, until finally you’re not.

17. Knight In Rusty Armor by @revengingbarnes ✨

Knight!Alpha!Bucky x Queen!Omega!Reader

For the sake of politics and to get rid of you, their omega daughter, the King and Queen of England marry you off to the King of France. Settling into an unfamiliar monarchy is a tedious process all by itself, but a new problem arises soon after your arrival at your new home. One of the Knights turns out to be your true mate. Your Alpha. The one you are meant to be with. But you’re mated to someone else. And that someone else is the King of France.

18. The Escaped Bride by @marvelouslytrekking

Pirate!Bucky x Reader

Being forced to marry someone was not something you wanted, but when it turns out that it is to your best friend, who you secretly loved, things weren’t so bad. Unfortunately, good things don’t seem to last and when the worst happens, you refuse to sit around and be miserable. Will you find true love again, or will your life be turned upside down?

19. Plot Twist by @winterarmyy

Mafia!Bucky x Reader

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

20. The Road Goes Ever On and On by @rocketrhap3000 ✨

Bucky x Single Mom!Reader

Life as a single mother of a three year old certainly has its struggles. But when a sweet stranger makes his way into you and your little boy’s life, a one of a kind connection sparks.

21. you’re my desire by @marvelouslizzie & @notafunkiller

40s!Bucky x Reader

Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers’ date but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes’ arms.

22. Death Do Us Part by @sgtjbuccky ✨

God Of Death!Bucky x Mortal!Reader

For centuries, the God of Death had known two things about mortals. One, they were his job, his to collect when their days came to an end, and two, they were obnoxiously odd beings. Their purpose ceased to make sense to him. Never did he understand why they created a life for themselves, why they loved, why they loved other mortals when they knew that none of it would last forever. It was nothing but sheer stupidity, but that was until he met you. A mortal unlike any other. A mortal that would make him question everything. A mortal that would teach the God of Death how to live.

23. Lost In Each Other by @majestyeverlasting ✨

Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader

For Bucky, one of the best things to come home to is family. Especially after a day at work. So he's pleasantly surprised when you want to show him a new dress after dinner one night. And it just so happens that little Eden and Jamie find a way to work themselves into the equation. But it all makes for good fun and memories you will never forget.

24. Fight For Me by @littleseasiren

Bucky x Reader

After years in an abusive relationship, you finally get out. When the Avengers decide to raise awareness for your Battered Women's Home, you bump into Bucky Barnes, the hottest, most complicated man you've ever met. He thinks you're too good for him, but when your abusive ex reappears, Bucky knows he has to keep you safe - by any means necessary.

25. call me baby by @cherryrogers ✨

Biker!Bucky x Reader

Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker, and when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either — that was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.

26. Static Verse by @theconstantsidekick ✨

Bucky x Enhanced!Reader

Tony Stark's sister's a fucking badass, codename—Static. Here's her story through the MCU.

27. Bygone by @borntobewondering

Bucky x Reader

You and Peter get sent back in time, and you fall in love with someone unexpected.

28. Clockwork by @aries-writingblog ✨

Bucky x Reader

Bucky has moved on. He’s found a place in the new world of the 21st Century. Found peace. But the past is always half a step behind him, waiting to snatch him backwards- like clockwork.

29. Deny the truth, set the world on fire by @lizatill

Bucky x Reader, Dark!Winter Soldier x Reader

He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember.

30. Carnations by @viollettes

Bucky x Reader College AU

It’s a simple concept: Students can buy flowers for each other at the carnation sale. Red flowers are for love, pink flowers are for friendship, and white flowers are for expressing secret admiration. A carnation fundraiser, an iota of possibility, and a longtime secret crush on your hot best friend - what could go wrong?

[number-onekidqueen]

𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

Based on Moth to a Flame by the Weeknd & Swedish House Mafia

Post-tlt!Luke x Apollo!fem!reader

Angst - 3.1k

warnings: making out, Steve is a warning 💀, reader is cheating with Luke, SPOILERS FOR THE LIGHTNING THIEF AND A TINY BIT OF SEA OF MONSTERS.

It wasn’t him. 

That was all you could think about as your boyfriend kissed you passionately in front of the whole camp. Sure, he was an excellent kisser, but it wasn’t as nice as it could’ve been. 

If it was him, he would’ve known to leave the breathtaking kisses for private. Known that you hated to make a scene. Would’ve put your comfort before his lusty need to kiss you-

You couldn’t think that. He was evil. And he had hurt your terribly. You refused to say his name even now, six months after his departure. He had left you and betrayed the whole camp and was conspiring with Titans, trying to start a war. 

Steve…. Wasn’t like that. 

You liked him. He was nice and treated you like you should be treated. He was a spectacle to be around. 

You still remembered all the drama from when he’d first asked you out. It was a story, all right, just like Steve liked.  

You hadn’t been in a great place then. You cried every night over him - you still did - you avoided the Hermes cabin like it was a plague, and you just felt numb and empty every day. 

And then he’d asked you out. Steve was from the Ares cabin, and after he had left, the red team had been having a lot of luck with winning Capture the Flag. 

It had been another one of Steve’s victories, and he’d been triumphantly waving the flag around before he passed it to his teammate, and drew the camp’s attention.  

“So, thanks to me, we get the best chores, best privileges. Thanks Chiron.” And Ares cabin roared as Chiron nodded awkwardly. “Still, I want one more thing. I have to have one more prize. Her. I’d like to ask y/n l/n to be my girlfriend.”

And your friends had talked about this for a while before, how they seemed to just know Steve had a crush on you - even though you couldn’t see it - and how they thought you guys would be perfect together. And how it would help you get over him. 

You said yes. 

And it was a fairytale from there. 

Every time he won Capture the Flag, (which was every week just about) he’d pick you up and spin you round, kissing you. It became a tradition, a victory kiss. And they were long, burning, breathless kisses, and he would continue even when you tired and stopped. He was passionate that way, all about making your pulse quicken. But not as much as did when he-

At dinners in the pavilion, you would share a peck before every meal while you queued. He was always next to you, and although it was kinda dull having him dismiss your friends so he could talk to you privately, at least you had the company right? And you always shared your extra food with him when he was hungry, and sometimes he would try to feed you sandwiches teasingly, which everyone cooed at. You wished they wouldn’t-

On weekend nights, you’d come back with him to Ares cabin secretly, and he’d make out with you in his bed, telling you he deserved his girlfriend after a long and hard week. And you would kiss and kiss and kiss and your lips would be swollen, your head would be spinning and people would roll their eyes and talk about how stupidly in love the pair of you were. 

Like a fairytale. 

Except, it had a bit of a twist. When he finally tired of your body and lips, and let out a few gentle snores, then you would escape. 

You started the habit the first time you couldn’t sleep after one of your make out sessions. 

It was idiotic, but you couldn’t fight the way you were still loyal to the traitor you had called your lover, how you felt sick to the stomach each time you felt Steve’s arms around you, tighter and more cage-like than his had ever been. You couldn’t fight the way your mind flitted between the two boys, comparing and contrasting between them to the detail, draining you of your sanity as the night stretched on. Hypnos didn’t bless you with rest, and you cursed the god that had ever created overthinking. 

You’d walked out, your arms huddled around you like his should be, and you stumbled in the cool darkness all the way to the beach. 

And in the obscurity of the night, you would let your heart break properly, as completely as it needed to. You would sin, become the villain of your own fairytale. 

You would whisper his name, over and over and over, as you would tell him everything that had happened to you. Every event that had transpired since he left. Eventually, you’d bring old Polaroids of the pair of you you’d hidden away, and an old flickering torch to view them with. A lot of the time you simply sobbed your heart out, whispering his name again and again into the sands, this beach the only place you could ever continue to love him. 

Usually, you were out for a while, bathing in your midnight misery, sometimes until Apollo deigned to let the Sun give light to the sky. 

It wouldn’t make you happier. 

Once everything was visible, occasionally you stared at the ocean, spotting the distant specks that were ships. You wondered if any of them were his, stupid Princess Andromeda, with all the horrifying monsters aboard you’d heard about. 

It was torture, thinking like that. That he was one call away, that you might scream across the waves and he would hear, and yet you were worlds apart. 

Once the sunshine heated your skin, you would drown your love in the daylight, and head back to Steve, your… lover. 

It was an awful, unhealthy routine. You knew that, and felt so many tremendous ways about it. 

But it was also beautiful in a painful way you’d grown to love. 

It was much the same tonight. 

Relief like a tsunami washing over you, as you began to feel the sleepy inhales and exhales of your boyfriend. The fifteen minutes it took you to softly slip out of his embrace unnoticed, and how they dribbled by slowly. A quick check for harpies, a speedy walk to the beach down the faint path your careful steps had created. 

Than the silence. 

Agonising, serene silence. 

The stars would hear his name again, as you spoke, the only witnesses to your traitorous actions. 

You’d only said his name once, listening as it faded into the sounds of the night, the chirping of insects and breeze in the trees. 

Crunching footsteps disturbed the peaceful aura. 

Instantly, you were on your guard, cursing yourself for lacking in a weapon. No matter how heavy the clunky torch was, it would be no match for fangs or talons. You held it up regardless, circling around on your feet as you searched for the source of the sound. 

“Is that a torch? Man, I’m outta here.”

You might’ve died. Your heart stopped. Your breath caught. Everything inside you froze. 

It was him. 

Him. 

Your torch lowered as he approached, the moon casting a holy glow on his face and distinct scar. 

He looked exactly as you remembered. 

Tall, lean, eyes deep, dark and entrancing, curls the rich colour of cocoa. 

Handsome as Adonis-

No. You raised your torch again, as you reminded yourself who this boy was, what he had done to you. No, you did not trust him, even if you missed him. 

“It’s me. I’m not here to hurt you,” he reassured, approaching you softly as if you were the dangerous one, “you don’t have to be on guard.”

Being you isn’t enough anymore, you wanted to scream. 

“What are you here for then? Are you planning some attack at camp?” You asked instead, horrified. 

“What are you out here for? Are you planning to join me?” He whispered back, smirking. 

“I- no, no. I could never do what you’ve done- what you do, no-“

“Yeah, yeah, I’m horrendous, I get it,” he interrupted, impatient, “but you’re still out here. And you were saying my name.”

The last sentence was almost… sensitive and hopeful. You didn’t like the way that vulnerability made you feel. 

“I did not. I have not said your name since the day you left, the day you betrayed us.” You denied, shaking your head and backing away from him. He followed you, even as you feet moved left and right. 

“Please, stop,” you begged, scared now as he continued to step where you stepped. 

“No, I came back for you,” his expression and voice changed, no longer smug and smirky. He was desperate, genuine. “There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought of you. I still love you, y/n, and the biggest mistake of my life was leaving you here.”

Your eyes welled at his words. This was all you’d ever wanted to hear. 

“You can’t just say that, you- you-“ your voice broke, and you finally stopped your retreat as your back hit a tree. “You left me for six months. You can’t just come back randomly, if you loved me you wouldn’t have left and-“

There was only a foot between the two of you. And it was rapidly closing, each steady footstep bringing you nose to nose. You couldn’t stop it, and you didn’t want to. 

“I-I- what are you doing, I can’t do this, whatever this is- I have a boyfriend and um, what-“

Your foreheads were almost touching. He was frowning, your guess was at the mention of Steve. Your eyes met, and you glanced away, knowing if you met his gaze once more you would give into anything he requested. 

“If you loved your boyfriend,” he breathed, each word becoming hotter and breathier as it neared your lips, ”you wouldn’t be out here crying and saying my name like a prayer.”

It was impossible to resist. Your eyes met again, and it felt as if you didn’t have a choice as he leaned down to kiss you. Your body was just following what it yearned to do. 

It was just as fantastic as you remembered. 

Blazing, spectacular, thrilling fireworks all through your body. On both of your lips burning and tingling with electric attraction, as they moved at a seamless speed. On your shoulders, as he massaged the bones, his hands brushing the length of them. In your blood as every particle of you seemed to hum in joy and satisfaction. It was an eager, sweet kiss, and it was precisely what you’d been missing. 

Why had you been trying to be a princess in a fairytale?

It was one of the only things you and he agreed on. You hated fairytales. 

You preferred thrillers. 

In sync you drew apart for breath, panting hard and grinning. After a short pause, you couldn’t hold it in anymore,. 

“Luke,” you said.

It was like saying a dirty cuss word that held powerful meaning. A secret no one wanted revealed. This was the loudest you’d ever said it in months, and you felt glad at the release of his name from your heart. 

It was the magic word for Luke. 

Immediately his lips were on yours, and there was no restraint this time. If that kiss had been hungry before, these were starved. 

Every ounce of anything either of you had felt was developed into that kiss. It was a myriad of different emotions, conflict and similar feelings rebelling and intertwining as your lips and tongues danced. I love you. I hate you. All I want is you. I’ve missed you. All I think about is you. I’ll never love someone how I love you-

“Come with me,” he begged, breaking apart as you shuddered for breath, and how could you refuse if he looked at you like that?

Luke beamed at you, seeing as you weren’t rejecting him and eagerly took your hand in his. The familiar warmth almost caused you to faint. 

And then he was leading you swiftly away from the beach, into the woods, and towards another part of the shoreline. 

You were almost giggly, as he pulled you along, over logs and past dense patches of lush shrubbery. It was like you were sixteen again, sneaking away from harpies and head counsellors so you could stargaze and kiss. 

You made it to his ship soon enough, the Princess Andromeda.

It was certainly fit for royalty. 

The style and size of the boat caused you to stop a moment, your jaw dropping. 

Luke continued to tug at your hand, pulling you along and towards the deck before you could reconsider. You figured you were too far gone to turn back now. But you didn’t want to either. 

“C’mon,” he urged, as you rapidly ascended the steps onto the ship. He led you inside, and down a few corridors, before he opened a door to what looked to be his room. 

It was grand, stylish. A double bed stood in the centre, a desk and ensuite to the left, and a wardrobe and bedside table to the right. You knew then that this was probably bigger and better than anything he’d ever had in his life. You wondered if he ever got lonely in the large space, or simply always felt like a king. 

Your thoughts were removed almost violently out of your head as Luke kissed you abruptly, pushing against you and using your back to close the door behind you. 

“I missed you,” he muttered against your lips, his arms twisting around you and hoisting you up, as if you were a bride. 

You laughed then, giddy, and said it back to him. 

He placed you on the bed softly, grinning and giving you time to shift about and be comfortable before he climbed over you, hovering above. 

The romantic assault ensued soon after. He tasted and smelled the same, and even though you were in new surroundings, it was like coming home. 

 “Your boyfriend,” he panted, laying heated kisses like freckles down your neck, “does he kiss you like this?”

“No.” The answer was breathy but definite. 

You could feel his smirk on your collarbone. “He doesn’t know, does he? About what you do out there. Try and talk to me, look at photos of us, cry. I’m your secret.”

And he was exhilarated to be your secret it seemed, because the kiss he gave you then was heart-stopping and sped up, like all the love scenes in thrillers. 

 And then the kissing stopped, because you both stupidly needed to breathe, and he lowered his head to your neck, his nose brushing the hollow of it as he regained oxygen. 

You sat up yourself, and while he continued panting, reached for the hem of his shirt. He froze, his eyes meeting yours in shock. He nodded insistently. 

It wasn’t the worn edge of his camp t-shirt you were used to, but the smooth fold of a new, better-fitting, more expensive one. 

You pulled it off, slowly, your fingers scraping against his sides in ways that made him shiver. It finally travelled over his head, and you tossed it somewhere on the floor, before cupping his face in your hands. 

“I’ll never get over you. I never have. Steve is just Steve and you’re you.” You whispered, lovestruck. 

You were sure he would’ve answered back something just as personal and romantic, but your fingers had found their way to his scar, the ridged line he’d loathed and you’d come to adore. All the words seemed to have evaporated from his mouth. You traced the length of the scar softly, before kissing every centimetre of it. His eyes had fluttered closed, and he was still. It was one of the only times his face looked so delicate. 

He sank down into the mountain of pillows,  yanking your shirt off and tossing it, and you hovered over him, tracing and smoothing your hands over the tense planes and valleys of his chest and shoulders. He inhaled and exhaled sharply, and you knew how much your care and adoration of him and his body meant to him. 

He was even more muscly than before, somehow, and you marvelled at the strength and might of your beloved boy, as you began leaving a burning line of kisses from the hollow of his neck to his navel. 

He shuddered, making little noises at each touch of your lips to his chest. 

Once your lips had finished that journey, up and back, you settled into his side, tucking your head under his chin and on his chest. 

His heart was racing, and as was yours, and the close, intimate feeling of it all was enough to make you beam. He turned his head to face you. His eyes were earnest, shining with clarity and joy. 

“You’re the only good thing in this world. I love you.”

And the world seemed to stop once your lips met again, because everything was perfect. 

Your heart, mind and body, all in the right place, cradled in his arms. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thrills only last so long before they wear off. 

The sunshine that streamed in through the porthole was like a warning from your father, a reminder that your actions were against everything you loved. Everything you believed in.

A reminder that while you loved Luke, you loved Camp Half-Blood more. 

You left your heart there, tucked between his sheets, nestled in his warm embrace. The loss of it tore your chest, as you tiptoed through the corridors, gasping at the monsters you could now see and swearing at yourself as tears flooded your vision. 

Maybe you should’ve woken him, you thought, given him one final kiss. 

You never would’ve been able to leave. 

You settled for leaving a note. 

You will always have my heart. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was awake. 

Of course he was. You’d always been restless, while you overthought and he’d woken as you tossed and turned softly. 

And he knew. 

Knew then that you were going to leave him. 

It was all over. 

He’d wanted to hold tight then, keep you as his, and never be parted from you. 

But he couldn’t. 

He knew he couldn’t even though he wanted to, even though he had promised himself he would never lose you again as you fell asleep entangled with him. 

It was the hardest thing in his life, feigning sleep as you silently slipped away, as you brushed his cheek in goodbye. 

You will always have my heart. 

They would always love each other. 

Always be torn apart. 

He realised bitterly you’d each be moths, drawn to the heat of each other, but always scalded and sent back by the flames. 

[leclerc-s]

espresso with a side of depresso

series masterlist

liked by mickschumacher, bradleywillsimpson, zoyatorres and others

maejonesverstappen just wanted to put out a little song before coachella 🤎 espresso 4/11

view all comments

rhysjones i fear for my mental sanity every time you drop a new song.

estebanocon please no more songs with inuendos

↳ maejonesverstappen 🤭

↳ lancestroll we are so fucked.

user82 i too am also praying no more songs about max jones-verstappen's dick.

↳ user45 she has us all traumatized

isabellaperez what's the point in dropping music if i'm no longer around to terrorize jos?

↳ maejonesverstappen now whose choice was it to leave?

↳ isabellaperez THAT FACT IS IRRELEVANT!

alex_albon ma'am we are begging please stop singing about max's dick or your sex life.

user51 okay but she looks so hot? can max verstappen fight?

↳ maxjonesverstappen1 *max jones-verstappen does not condone hitting women but point me to the nearest track in your area and we'll settle this on the track like real men.

↳ user51 i'm a woman?

↳ maxjonesverstappen wasn't aware gender mattered on the track? but fine *we'll settle this on the track like real people.

danieljonesricciardo as long as it's not another nonsense or nonsense christmas we'll be fine guys. so fine.

↳ user30 this is the embodiment of the dog in a room on fire saying 'this is fine'

georgerussell63 no doubt she's getting ready to further traumatize us. twice just wasn't enough.

lewis hamilton my blood pressure has suddenly skyrocketed. anyone want to tell me why?

alex albon why do you always have to assume it's our fault? lewis hamilton it's always you people

isabella perez mae's dropping a new song.

lewis hamilton that explains so much. please tell me there's no references to max's dick.

mae jones-verstappen i can't promise that.

george russell WHEN WILL THE TORTURE END??

daniel jones-ricciardo probably when they have children to embarrass.

charles leclerc if max keeps winning everything, that'll probably be soon.

rhys jones woah! gross! child here!!

lando norris that's the circle of life baby jones! well, maybe not soon.

logan sargeant i think she enjoys torturing us with mentions of max's dick in songs.

max jones-verstappen can we stop talking about my dick please?

zoya torres TELL YOUR WIFE TO STOP WRITING SONGS ABOUT IT!

mae jones-verstappen 🤭🤭

daphne jones-ricciardo oh she is so proud of herself.

rowan todd of course she is. it's like pierre making a tripod joke.

fernando alonso sebastian i am begging you, please come back. put these animals under control.

sebastian vettel aren't you the one extending his contract to become the oldest driver in f1 histroy?

lewis hamilton hey, i'm still here!!

sebastian vettel he's older!

isabella perez i'm still going to torture jos. he's not get away from me simply because i no longer work for red bull.

rhys jones THE TORTURE JOS VERSTAPPEN CLUB HAS OFFICIALLY ANNOUNCED A NEW MEETING!!

max jones-verstappen stop torturing my father!

dulce perez but you two make it so easy for them

daphne jones-ricciardo children. all of you.

liked by maxjonesverstappen1, rhysjones, tatemcrae and others

maejonesverstappen triple shot...espresso out now ☕️

view all comments

user63 how the fuck did max verstappen end up with her?

isabellaperez oh wow. ditch the husband and marry me please!

↳ maejonesverstappen we can run away, ditch the husband and the boyfriend!

↳ isabellaperez say less baby girl

↳ oscarpiastri no, please say more.

↳ maxjonesverstappen i agree say more.

user09 oh she's so hot. please marry me.

user56 good thing your daddy made you get a boating license when you were 15.

nataliaruiz woah, how did verstappen ever end up with you??

↳ maejonesverstappen his insane yapping rizz somehow woo'd me.

user79 you're so pretty. i love you.

rhysjones how did you release a summer bop but daph is releasing the world's most depressing album?

↳ maejonesverstappen it's called versatility baby brother. you play a war criminal, daphne is depressed, and i sing about things i shouldn't.

↳ isabellaperez like max's dick!

baileywinters you gorgeous, gorgeous girl.

↳ maejonesverstappen 👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏻

user61 it will always surprise me that daphne and mae are related. it's no surprise that mae's related to rhys but witch daphne's it's a shock.

liked by maxjonesverstappen1, rhysjones, tatemcrae and others

maejonesverstappen espresso btsoo ☕️

view all comments

maxjonesverstappen1 woah. marry me??

↳ maejonesverstappen maxie, we're already married.

↳ maxjonesverstappen i am one lucky man.

maxjonesverstappen1 that smile 🥰

maxjonesverstappen1 i love you

↳ user42 max jones-verstappen, certified simp for his wife.

↳ user28 he's never beating the trophy husband allegation. this is why he and daniel get along so well, they were made to be trophy husbands.

user56 good thing your daddy made you get a boating license when you were 15.

coreyfogelmanis how did that man end up with you??

↳ maxjonesverstappen1 stop bullying me!!

↳ coreyfogelmanis oh as her best friend it is my job to bully you

user10 i have never been more in love with women than i am now.

dulceperez that's one pretty girl. marry me?

↳ maejonesverstappen i would rather not be chased down by a rabid leclerc

↳ arthur_leclerc i am not rabid mae!

↳ louis_graham you chased me through the streets of monaco with a rolling pin because you thought i had a crush on dulce.

↳ arthur_leclerc that's not true!!

freya vettel me? you? beautiful blonde babies?

↳ maejonesverstappen i'm sure we could find a way

↳ maxjonesverstappen1 okay, mickschumacher come get your girlfriend before i block her.

↳ mickschumacher oh but this is so funny.

user06 SUMMER BOP RIGHT HERE!!

user17 oh mae jones-verstappen sure knows how to write a summer bop.

sebastian vettel why did you have to speak of honeybees that way?

mae jones-verstappen seb, please.

mick schumacher you might actually make him cry.

freya vettel he's definitely going to cry.

sebastian vettel i don't understand why we had to speak of honeybees that way?

rhys jones WHAT ABOUT THE NINTENDO? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO RUIN THAT FOR US TOO??

alex albon she ruined christmas now she's ruined honeybees and nintendos

mae jones-verstappen okay, now you two are being dramatic. i didn't ruin anything.

daphne jones-ricciardo how to you look sophie in the face? because it took me months to look grace in the face after i released dress.

penelope trevino it's a talent!

lando norris okay mayores, calm down

rowan todd and this is why i'm glad i never wrote a horny song about a french man.

bailey winters or me about a british man

pierre gasly wow imagine what it would be like if my girlfriend loved me.

rhys jones maybe she'd love you more if you stayed at red bull considering she's a red bull fan.

pierre gasly daniel, i swear to god, keep that kid away from me or i'll strangle him.

daniel jones-ricciardo okay, rhys, maybe we shouldn't attack the driver.

rhys jones he drives an alpine. i'll be safe.

logan sargeant lmao!

lance stroll who pissed off the pipsqueak?

arthur leclerc my guess is pierre.

pierre gasly all i said was percy jackson would get beat up by harry potter and now he's all pissy.

rhys jones BECAUSE YOU'RE LIKE YOU CROISSANT! PERCY GREW UP IN NEW YORK!! HARRY GREW UP IN FUCKING ENGLAND!

isabella perez yeah, i agree with rhys. there's no way harry beats percy.

charles leclerc but harry has a wand?

dulce perez and 9 times out of 10 he only uses expelliarmus.

logan sargeant have none of you read the percy jackson books? percy controls water, he 100% beats harry.

lewis hamilton this is just another way for you people to do the whole uk vs usa argument.

isabella perez WHAT'S A STICK GOING TO DO AGAINST A GLOCK?

fernando alonso i beg, please god give me strength to deal with these idiots

esteban ocon why are we having this argument?

rhys jones because i'm right and pierre is wrong. he just won't admit it.

mick schumacher i fear our brains need to be studied for science.

carlos sainz i think katniss beats them both.

rhys jones STOP CARLOS OR I WILL NOT HOLD BACK!!

daphne jones-ricciardo he's very passionate about this carlos. please don't make him attack you.

carlos sainz i retract my statement

rhys jones I'M RIGHT AND EVERYONE WHO DISAGREED WITH ME IS WRONG SO SHUT UP!

natalia ruiz never a dull moment with you people. never.

sebastian vettel i seriously question my life whenever someone sends a text that starts an argument in this group chat.

isabella perez YO NICO ROSBERG'S GOING TO BE IN CHINA!!

george russell BROCEDES REUNION INCOMING!!

rhys jones more like nico yapping about lewis

charles leclerc you can sit i my garage for the race weekend?

rhys jones LET'S GO!!!! A WIN IS A WIN BITCHES!!

max jones-verstappen traitor

daniel jones-ricciardo traitor

rhys jones I AM A TIFOSI FIRST AND BROTHER-IN-LAW SECOND!!

fernando alonso i don't have the strength to deal with this.

isabella perez remember to stream espresso!!

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @applopie @sunflower-golden-vol6 @lorarri @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @mypage-myfandoms @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @six-call @justtprachisblog @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @cool-ultra-nerd @kami10471633 @1nt3rnetgf @fernandoswarcrimes @arieltwvdtohamflash @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @georgeparisole @dan3avocado @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @weekendlusting @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81 @theseus-jpg @sarah-thatstings-ann @minmira95 @casperlikej @formulaonebuff @hopenshaw @ijustgomessitupx @hwalllllllelujah @doodlehunz @prongsvault

¡leclerc-s speaks! i'm not going to lie, i've been watching grey's anatomy for the first time and that's why i haven't been posting much. but today's the day guys!! i also don't know how or why this devolved into what it did towards the end.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

iii. one for the money, two for the show.

— the one where you were never ready, so you watched him go.

warnings: war flashbacks to the miami gp, more insight into y/n (look i have to give a lot of context for my own sanity), not really proofread sorry, 2.4k words.

masterlist ✢ next

FROM “WHAT’S NEXT FOR AIDAN KIM?” POSTED IN THE US WEEKLY YOUTUBE CHANNEL MAY 2023

You are looking at the top comments.

aidanbabes nooo my baby😭 he looks so sad!

flowerbedkim I swear to god y/n better count her fucking days

halleyc don’t come at me but this sounds like he proposed

ynbby why is he talking about this though? y/n has been super private and he’s telling US WEEKLY THIS?

ynaidan i hate being a child of divorce😭

Miami, Florida May 6th

GRAND Prix number two with Elix, attempt number two by Mr. Stuart Schafer to get into your pants. Can it get any worse?

Yes, yes it can. Because as long as you have “a job” you don’t have to come to these sponsor events. Which sucks for you, not having an acting job for the moment has never felt more like a punishment from the universe.

Artists, from actors to singers are here promoting their gigs while all you do, again, is take pictures with men in jeans and loafers and try not to barf every time you consume Elix.

You’re watching your career crumble in front of your eyes and you can’t do anything to save it from burning when it hits the floor. Mildred has called you several times during the course of the weekend to inform you of canceled interviews, revoked invitations and “sorry we’re just looking for something else” calls from casting agents.

Part of you is in disbelief that a five minute interview from your ex-boyfriend is feeding the fire, part of you expected it all the same. Women are the preferred villain in the narrative, and if it means putting a man above them, the media has had the choice made for a while.

Did you really have it coming, though? There have been endless comments about how it was about time people realized the type of person you are.

But what are you? Who are you really?

You’re a coward. You tell that to yourself in the mirror first thing in the morning.

Many people have the luxury to say they can’t pinpoint the exact moment where they went wrong. You can’t afford the pleasure of such obliviousness, because the exact moment everything went wrong was when Aidan got down on one knee.

And when the question that left his lips went from "Will you marry me?" to "Why won't you?" You knew there was no turning back.

Marriage wasn’t a foreign concept to you, but while it is generally seen as a milestone, for you it was just another stepping stone. The roles of The Wife and The Mother were something you might eventually grow into, but on the night of your third anniversary, you realized you weren't even ready for that of The Fiancée.

Was it genuinely a surprise for Aidan that you had to close the velvet box he was holding in front of you, hiding the diamond ring from your sight, before he dropped his other knee to the ground and whispered 'Why?'

Never, in the three years you'd been together, had you seriously talked about marriage. It was another bridge you would cross once you got there, and in your mistaken calculations, you thought it would be around the time your relationship turned five. That's the limit for romantic relationships without a ring involved according to most women's magazines, and your own mom. At least neither know the ring was the cause of the breakup.

It's a little pathetic how lucky you consider yourself that the tabloids don't know you rejected an engagement. They're cruel enough as it is, things can only go further downhill, straight to hell.

"You good?"

Your best friend in the world, Victoria Presley, is able to join you in the VIP area of the Paddock thanks to a couple pictures on instagram where she tagged Elix. God bless the era of influencers. Or, family connections. Being the daughter of Sony Music executive Luke Presley and celebrity life coach Claire Walker can open many doors. Well it isn't Vic's fault being born into a rich and influential family, at least she's doing her own thing with her beauty products.

"Yes, I am," you shrug. Q3 is going on right now and although you try your best to keep your focus on the two red cars around the circuit, you find it hard to get out of your head. Plus it's so hot in here you feel sticky and gross.

"I lost you for a moment there," she insists, sipping her glass of champagne, the eyebrow raise she gives you after means she needs more info into what was going through your head just seconds ago.

"Not getting any call backs right now," you sigh, taking the flute from her although all it would take for you to get your own is a few steps. "I'm kind of frustrated."

"I'm sorry babe," Vic rubs your back, unbothered by your stealing. "You'll get something soon."

"And E! cancelled my interview, AND—"

Tires screech and an 'ooooh' goes through the grand stands before the screens show a red car embedded in the barriers. A groan of "It's Leclerc!" passes through the people around you in the VIP Lounge.

You grimace, focused on the circuit again as Charles leaves his car, shaking his arms before hitting the halo several times, frustrated.

"See everyone has bad streaks," Vic has gotten her own champagne again and is pointing to the screen, where the Ferrari driver is being followed on his way out. "It's his second crash, no?"

Other people's disgrace doesn't soothe your own, so you give Vic a stern look, causing her to shrug.

Q3 is done and Ferrari has mixed feelings about their two drivers' results. As for you, the faster you can get back to your hotel, the better.

─────────

Vic drags you to dinner with a couple of her influencer friends. Everyone and their mother is in attendance at Miami, and they’re here to have fun.

"They're here!" the girl to Vic's left whisper-yells, stretching her neck to look over at the entrance of the restaurant.

The place has been completely full the whole time you've been here, which has been a while, you're done with your dinner and have a few drinks on you, yet Vic has begged you twice to stay 'just a little longer'.

Of course Vic is having the time of her life, talking about promotion agreements and posting schedules, and although you hang out with lots of influencers and social media stars on your daily life, you're not clicking with any of them tonight. Have you become bitter? No, of course not.

"y/n knows them, she can just introduce us," another one giggles, and she cheers with her tequila sunrise to your own half-empty drink that's resting on the table.

"Hmm, what?" you chuckle, unsure of how you missed the part where you entered the story.

"The Ferrari Drivers," the first girl answers in that 'obviously' tone you hate when people use with you. "You're with Ferrari all the time lately, aren't you?"

"I'm with Elix," you clear up, best as you can as they're not really paying attention, their eyes following the group of men that are being escorted by a hostess to their table. "So you know, it's not really—"

"But you've met them,"

"Well, yes but..."

Yes but, you've seen them in scattered moments where they nod and smile at you passing by and the three times you've had to take pictures drinking Elix. You don't even get to the coworker level of knowing them.

"Well let's go!"

"Hold on Holly," Vic speaks up for the first time, "I mean, they literally just got here."

"Which is why we came here," Holly can't seem to get rid of that know-it-all tone, and it's frankly starting to annoy you even if she has a different target now.

It's time to use the angry eyes with Vic, again,in less than 24 hours. That's why she kept asking you to wait just a little longer.

"How did you know they'd be here?" you question, although you already know what a cleveage can do to get any information you want. Can't blame a girl for using her tools.

“I have my ways,” Holly says, and does in fact, fix her cleavage. Fair enough.

"Vic..." you whisper, as the rest of them regather in their own conversation. "What's happening?"

"I just– they said they really wanted to meet the Ferrari guys, y/n," Vic half whines. She's doing the most to impress the other girls, which is a very Vic thing to do, but still you don't like it. "And since you work with them, well it would be easier to approach them, right?"

Wrong.

"I- Vic, I don't work with these guys. We don't even work for the same people, and... it would be weird to approach them while they're trying to have dinner peacefully."

You are not a big fan of interruptions because you've heard enough of your coworkers talk about how annoying it is. As for yourself, sometimes you mind, sometimes you don't. It all depends.

You can barely distinguish their table with all the movement around the restaurant, but you manage a peek at Carlos' hair. Both of them are there, surrounded by a bunch of other Ferrari guys.

"So? Let's go," Holly is speaking again, downing the rest of her alcoholic Shirley Temple.

"I have to use the bathroom," you announce, dropping the napkin that covered your lap on the table.

"Right now?" the other girl—you feel guilty for not remembering her name— groans.

You refrain from replying, and try not to stomp to the bathroom like a toddler throwing a tantrum. If there’s anything that you hate is feeling used, and it hurts a lot more when it comes from Victoria.

It’s something else when she uses her doe-eyed stare and says “please, please, please” to get her way even with you, rather than set you up to impress her other friends.

You take your time to reapply lipstick in the bathroom and soothe your annoyance. You have told Vic before that she needs to ask for things, not just push you into awkward situations. At least she didn’t follow you to the restroom.

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the bathroom, wondering how to go on about this. It’s very likely that things get twisted and it is you who’ll look like she wants to brag about knowing the Ferrari guys, which you’re sure they’re used to—being bragged about. But you don’t want that.

There are many clichés that you have experienced, both as a character in RomComs where the biggest makeover that is done to your character is to apply a little mascara and remove the glasses (you hate that, what’s wrong with wearing glasses?). And in real life, with big romantic gestures like receiving a bouquet with a hundred roses and one is artificial… Blah blah.

This cliché is a little more ridiculous, though, as you crash into Charles Leclerc while leaving the restroom.

“Oh, sorry,” you half-smile back at him, he’s already smiling, showing dimples and everything. You see his appeal no matter how much you don’t want to notice it. Tall, green-blue eyes and those stupid dimples. Not to mention the fact that you suddenly find accents charming. Again, stupid.

“Hey y/n,” he says still smiling, “Did you just get here?”

“Uh, no actually we’re leaving in a few minutes,” you move out of the way of a lady that wants to get into the restroom, she eyes you both for a moment before continuing on her way.

“Are you here with your friends? Or is it with Elix?”

“My friends. Thank God I get to be away from Elix for a few hours.”

Charles chuckles and the moment runs long enough to become awkward. You’re still outside of the bathrooms and another guy has too given you an off look as he made his way inside.

"Let me walk you back to your table," Charles offers as a way of breaking the silence and you shake your head no.

"You don't have to, my friends are probably on the way out already, anyway."

Are you being selfish by keeping Vic's friends away from him? It doesn't matter to you, not really. But really a small part of you doesn't want things to go their way.

Charles doesn't listen to your refusal anyway, and asks you to lead the way with a gesture.

"I didn't see you at the Ferrari Suite after Quali," he mentions as he follows you a step behind.

"I was in the VIP Lounge with a friend," you explain, "I'll be at the Suite tomorrow, though."

You stop at your table, where the three girls are still doing their best to ogle at the Ferrari guys.

"Hey," you get their attention back and not one in the three of them even attempt to hide the pleasant surprise that Charles' presence gives them. "Are you ready to go?"

It's Vic's turn to give you a look. One that tells you to not be unfair, things have just started to go as they planned.

While you return the pointed look to Vic, Holly strikes a conversation with Charles. Lightning quick.

"Let's go," you repeat, "Gotta be up early tomorrow."

"Can we get a picture, though?" the other girl—lord, if you could remember her name you'd feel a little better —adds quickly.

"Do you mind?" you ask Charles before he can reply. You don't want to make a fuss and have half the restaurant acknowledging his presence and his disposition to take pictures and sign autographs while he's trying to have dinner.

"Not at all," he shakes his head and waits patiently for everyone to be camera-ready while you stare. "Aren't you getting in the picture?"

"I'll take it," you hold your hand out for an iPhone, and get Holly's bedazzled one. Charles frowns but you just say 'okay, ready?' before pointing the camera at them.

No one else argues the fact that you're not in the picture.

A chorus of 'thank you's' passes quickly as you return the iPhone and the three influencers start checking the picture. They're probably better photographers than you, you can accept that.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, y/n," Charles leans towards you, leaving the group to their own thing after he pleased their request. "Right?"

"I'll be the one drinking Elix," you joke, half-whining.

"I'll be the one in the red car," Charles jokes back, a wide smile spreading on his face.

You laugh, fighting against the sudden shyness caused by the familiarity.

"Goodnight," he calls quietly, and the girls wish him a goodnight and good luck for the race before he snakes through tables back to his friends.

Not another thank you is directed at you as your group leaves the restaurant to wait for the Uber back to the hotel.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello! thank you for reading! I'm really grateful for everyone who has interacted with this story, I hope you're enjoying it so far ♡❞

[dira333]

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part I

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies.

Touya Todoroki, formerly known as Dabi, had been one of those taken into the rehabilitation program. After one year of intense physical and psychological therapy, he's got the chance to prove himself. To prove that he can be a part of this world.

Complete fic length: 30.600 words - Masterlist

Warnings: poor mental health and resentment against past actions is mentioned, burn scars etc. as well. There is angst but this is mostly soft Touya coming back to his family...

Part 1: (1,9k)

Questioning his own sanity isn’t something he likes doing but standing in front of the tiny flower shop, Touya Todoroki can’t help but do so.

One year might have passed since the war, a year filled with intense therapy both on his body and mind, but still only a year and not a lifetime. 

“Do you want to skip it?” Shouto asks behind him, eyes trailing over the display of flowers outside the shop, the amount of it almost blocking the sidewalk. 

Had it been Fuyumi or Natsuo with him today, they’d already marched right inside, the two of them more annoyed with the lack of positive responses than he was.

But it’s Shouto who asked to accompany him today and Shouto like to ask for his opinion on every single thing first, whether it was which seat he preferred to sit in the car - the back seat - or how he liked his morning coffee - black, two pieces of sugar. 

-

The flower shop is tiny, crammed into the small space between a coffee shop and a drugstore, with wooden chairs and tables covered in plants right outside the too-small windows. 

He imagines the owner to be a little old lady, back arched under years of hard work. She’d throw him out the moment she realizes who he is. Or maybe it’s some uptight dick of a man, who thinks selling flowers is the hip thing to do. Which would end in a similar scenario, just maybe with more obscenities. 

He’d been cleared to start work in the rehabilitation program, given a list of employers who offered a part-time job for ex-criminals for a small amount of financial assistance. But even if they offer part-time jobs, he still has to apply for them and pass. So far he’s only collected rejections.

-

A bell chimes as Touya opens the door and he can’t help but snort at the interior. 

It feels like stepping into a tiny jungle, barely contained by the four walls of the building.

Cut flowers of all colors, sizes, and kinds are creatively dispersed between plants that grow up the walls or droop from the ceilings.

The smell is intoxicating and he can hear Shouto take a deep breath behind him.

“Hello?” He calls out when he can’t spot the owner. “I’m here for the interview?”

“Oh, of course.” A sweet, almost timid voice, calls out from the back, “Touya Todoroki, was it?” 

He can hear the clicking of heels, a plant is pulled back and a smiling face appears. 

That’s the first sign. This is his sixth interview this week and none of the others have been smiling at his sight.

The smile does not leave your lips when you step closer and he wonders for a second if you are visually impaired, until you offer him your hand to shake. Telling him your name, your eyes lock onto him and for only a heartbeat, he forgets to breathe.

That’s the second sign. 

There is no anger in your eyes, no thinly veiled hatred for what he has done. But there is a kind of recognition in them that he knows well. 

He shakes your hand as gently as he can, too aware of how small your hand feels in his. 

“I brought my brother with me.” He stumbles over the words, stepping to the side as well as he can in the cramped space.

That’s the third sign. Your eyes widen at the sight of Shouto, and he spots a little shiver that you try to hide as you offer Shouto your hand as well. 

Oh, well. You are cute, sure, but if you are into his brother, he won’t stand in the way.

-

Two hours later he steps out of the flower shop with a folder and a brand new job, starting tomorrow.

“Do you want to go for Soba?” Shouta asks next to him, seemingly unaffected by the news but phone already in hand, typing away.

Touya’s sure the family group chat is getting all the important information right now.

He looks down at the folder, his name on the official document.

He’s got a job. 

Is this how it feels to be normal? To lead a normal life?

It feels a little weird.

“Sure.” He says instead. “Soba sounds good.”

🌺.

You’re humming a tune when he arrives, smiling when the bell signals his arrival.

“I hope you don’t mind that it’s second-hand.” You tell him, holding out a bundle of green fabric. “But good aprons aren’t cheap and this one’s your size. If you feel uncomfortable with it, I will order a new one.”

“It’s fine.” He slips it on, fighting with the strings in the back. 

“Can I help?” You ask and he nods, teeth clamped together against the uncomfortable feeling of being useless. 

“I’ll go over everything again. If you remember something, feel free to chip in. I know it’s a lot of stuff to remember, especially when you’ve never worked in this field before, so we’ll go over it every morning until you feel comfortable with it.”

The days pass like this. 

You’re here before him, helping him tie that stupid little knot at the back so his apron stays on, leading him through the shop to go over the flowers. 

On Friday he can name almost all of them, only mixing up the gerbera and Coneflower Daisy. He helps you carry out the flowers you choose for the display that day and mans the till the rest of the day where you teach him how to tie ribbons and how to cut stems so that they last longer.

The shop doesn’t get many customers, a few old ladies that are too blind or too polite to recognize him, always choosing the cheapest flowers for the bouquets, cooing when you add a surprise flower without charging for it. 

A few students pass by who buy single-cut flowers or look at the prizes of the bigger plants and skiddle out awkwardly. 

And of course, there are some guys who come in, obviously in the quest of flirting with you, but you’re either too oblivious to get the hints or too polite to act on it. Whatever the case, he throws them menacing looks until they leave.

So far, no one has made a fuss about him being there and he wonders if his new skin grafts are really that good or if people have gotten more polite since he went into therapy.

🌺.

Right now you’re walking up and down the shop, looking over the cut flowers and mumbling to yourself. 

He guesses that whatever you’re coming up with at the end of your mumbling session will involve more learning for him so he leaves you to it and enjoys the chance of getting to look at you.

You don’t dress overly cutesy, not like Toga who loved making herself look younger than she was. The white shirt you’re wearing under your own green apron accentuates your curves even more than the outfit you’d worn on Monday. If only Shouto would come by like he had asked him to, even offering to buy him lunch, but his younger brother’s swamped with work. 

You turn to look at him, catching him in the act of wondering how you managed to make your ponytail look so fluffy. 

“Are you with your family this weekend, Toya-kun?” 

“Uh… yes.” Where’s this going?

“That’s great. How many members does your family have? Including you?”

“Uh, five. My parents, my three siblings, and me.”

“Five? That’s perfect.”

“How so?”

“Oh. There’s something about uneven numbers that feels more comfortable to the human eye. There’s something about unevenness and imperfection that’s comforting.”

Something heavy settles in his gut, but not like the negative feelings he knows. This one feels new and yet familiar, like when you’ve finished a bowl of your favorite food.

“What would you have done if we’d been six people?”

“That’s a lecture for another day.” You tell him, beckoning him over to the cut flowers.

“I allow all my employees to make one free bouquet per week. This will be your first. Pick one flower for each of your family members. Don’t think too much about if they’ll match or not, just go with your gut.”

He huffs and looks at the buckets of flowers. 

There are white lilies and flowers as red as his father’s hair. There are roses and tulips that are a wild mix of red and white. But wouldn’t that be too easy?

He looks again and his eye catches on a deep purple China Aster. Purple used to be the color of royalty, he remembers, and his mother had always felt regal to him.

“This one for my mother.” He says quietly and you take the flower from him.

Next is a bright yellow Gerbera for his father, just because of the dichotomy of it. The flower had always felt passive-aggressive to him, but also cheerful, like someone trying to overcome past aggression by being extra positive. 

A blue silk flower for Fuyumi because blue is her favorite color no matter how much she likes to deny that and lavender for Natsuo because it’s the only medicinal plant he recognizes. Finally, he hands a light pink tulip over, the flower always reminding him of innocence and naivety, something he still connects to his youngest brother.

“You’re missing one flower.” You remind him softly. 

“Oh.” He looks down at them in your hands and laughs awkwardly. “I guess I forgot myself.”

But when he takes in all the flowers, none of them speak to him and he feels himself becoming increasingly frustrated.

“Alright. I’ll allow it this time.” You say softly next to him and he turns, a little confused by your words. 

“Hold out your hand, Toya-kun.” He does and you hold your own hand above it, not touching him but the space between is so small he can feel your presence.

Something heavy drops into his hand and he pulls it down to reveal a thick green bulb with a stem rapidly growing from its end.

“What’s that?”

“A peony. Sadly they’re not in season right now and this little one doesn’t want to show its face yet. You might have better luck in a day or two.” You hand him the other flowers and point at the greenery to the side.

“Now we need all the side characters to complete the picture.” You pull out different things, like Aspidistra and Bear Grass and some Israeli Ruscus Green, calling them the house they lived in, the rooms that housed them, the beds that carried them.

He’s still a little stunned by you showing your quirk like that when you hand him the greenery and point to the table next to the till. 

“Now, make your first Bouquet. You know how to do it but I’ll be there to help if you need me.”

🌺.

“Oh, what a lovely bouquet.” His mother claps a hand to her mouth at the sight of the flowers. “Did you make that yourself?”

“I did, actually.” He feels immensely proud of it and just a little bit awkward about the words that follow, repeating them after you.

“Every flower resembles one of you but you have to guess who’s who.”

Rei studies the bouquet that so obviously lacks white or red and blinks in confusion.

Toya can feel a satisfied smirk growing. You were right. This is kinda fun.

taglist: @misfit-megumi

[teyamloving12]

Quaritch going to interrogate his favorite captive and he stumbles upon her in heat. His new mission: mate and breed the na’vi female.

Heatful Experience

Warning: NSFW content (MDNI), mention of heat cycles, praise kink, no protection, breeding kink, mentions of captivity, etc. Pairing: Miles Quaritch x Na'vi!Reader Synopsis: You were in heat and he was inquisitive. The hormones in your body said yes but your sanity said no because he was your sworn enemy.

If this war is anyone's fault, it was the sky people's fault. They took everything you had and if you didn't give it to them out of the will of your heart, then they would take it by force. You were held captive by General Ardmore to gain more information on the Na'vi ways and most importantly, the location of Jake Sully.

Why did you have to suffer for the sake of others? It was not fair at all. It's been months since Jake escaped to the reef. It was a strange day. Heat overcame your poor body. It was like an intense pressure building in your head and stomach. You felt weak. The heat cycles began once again. The last time your heat occurred you were at the Omatikaya with your soon to be mate who endured you are fine but now you are Eywa knows where with the people that took everything away from you.

The pressure in your stomach made you whiny. It was unbearable. You begged Eywa for mercy but your plea wasn't heard. You moved your loincloth to reveal your wet cunt. It was clenching around nothing if it mourned the touch and the pleasure your mate gave to you.

You reached your bulging and sensitive clit. You shrieked at the overwhelming sensation. Usually when you touched yourself, it never felt like this. The heat was different and you were alone. You had control before, now you just couldn't stop. Your juices splashed everywhere and ran down your fingers like flooding rivers. Your breasts felt sensitive. You grabbed your nipple hoping to relieve it. This only made the situation worse.

Little did you know, Eywa had it coming for you. Quaritch was on his way to interrogate you until he heard tour sweet moans from afar. He pulled his knife wondering if it was one of his men hurting you. He pulled on the door only to see you panting heavily with a pool of your sweet release around you. He smirked, pretending he saw nothing.

You were his favourite. You were just a healer taught to heal the strong, not to fight them. 

You immediately made yourself look half-decent but the pool of your juices was still beneath you. You looked at him with eyes full of lust with a hint of sadness. You tried to crawl away from him but he lifted you up and placed you down on the table in the cell. What was this man doing to you?

"Now tell me why you panting so hard, sugar?", he asked with the witty smirk of his. Your stomach became to fluster. No! You had to control yourself! You had a mate, this was wrong. You tried to calm yourself but your heat had other plans. His hand moved to your thigh, now your pussy was just getting wetter. "You in heat, baby?", he whispered in your ear. Your eyes widened. He flipped you over. You were resisting. He locked your hands with his. 

"Why are you pushing me away? You don't think I can feel your cunt soaking my pants?", he said before tucking your braid under your flushed ear. You were caught lusting after a man that wasn't your mate. A tear rolled down your face onto the table. "Get over it! Jake Sully will not come for you nor your mate!", he yelled still pinning you to the table. "Let me love You! I would never do that.", he continued. "Do what?", you asked. The venom in your tone made chills run down Miles' spine. 

"Leave You!", he exclaimed. "You shameless demon!", you spat in his face. He grabbed your braids forcing you to look back at his raging eyes. He kissed you hungrily, slipping his tongue down your throat. He let go of your hands. You flipped yourself making him slip in between your legs. You grabbed your face. You felt guilty. "No! I–we can't. I have a mate. It's against Eywas will!", you blurted out. He kissed you again and biting your tongue before he ripped off your top. 

"Fuck Eywa's will!", he started to kiss from your neck and licking down to your cunt. He smirked as he watched your cunt clench around nothing. He laid you down before placing your legs over his shoulders. He sank your long tongue into your cunt. You grabbed his shirt ripping in the process. He licked your clit. " N-not  there!", you screamed. " Ah! No~ you have to stop!", you begged him. " Too much~", you whined, your fingernails scratched his muscular back. "Please let me rest!", you asked once. "Rest, we've just started, sweetheart!", he stated. 

He unzipped his camo pants, resisting his boner. You were shocked, your mate was never compare. He was so veiny, it scared you. You unintenlicked your lips. Something inside of you snapped. You forced his length inside your mouth as you reached your hand to touch your heat. You couldn't believe your sworn enemy made you this way. Forcing your sanity to eventually break, this was the new you. 

He bent you over the table again, grabbing you by the scalp which made your hips throw themselves back. Impatient, you took his cock in your hands inserting it into your hole. You squealed. You were broken. Your mind was blank. You mouth released sweet moans. Music to the ears of your enemy.

"Such a good girl, taking my cock so well!", Miles praised. You grabbed his shoulders, kissing his pecs. You couldn't talk, just moans alone and Miles loved that. It proved you were his and not else's mate to claim. "Gonna fill you up real good so you don't leave me, you want that pretty thing?", he questioned, you didn't have a choice. Fuck Jake Sully. The only thing he wanted was you. He came inside you. Your womb was being filled to the brim. Your toes clenched as you release yourself on him. He pulled out leaving you on the table to recall what just happened. You heard the cell door shut. You whimpered on the table and balled your eyes out. Remembering your clan wouldn't want a woman bearing the child of the enemy nor would your mate ever look at you again.

Oh Eywa, why is it always you?

[eddiemuonson]

Sweet Feelings - Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: You take care of Steve Harrington after they come back from the Upside Down, fighting against Vecna. You never actually liked his girlfriend, Nancy, and realized it wasn't only because she didn't treat him like he deserved.

Contains: mentions of wounds/blood, fluff

Word count: 3.1k

They came back from the Upside Down looking like they had lost a war, like they've seen a ghost. You haven't been around them that much when it comes to beating the monsters and the enemy.

Steve was bleeding on his stomach and his face was dripping blood, he had strangled markings on his neck as well. It shocked you to see him that way, though. Robin and Eddie were holding him up and helped him sit in your couch.

Both of them weren't that as injured as he was, but were still looking like they could use a shower and a bed at that point. They told you Harrington was pulled under the water and brought to the Upside Down, into Vecna's lair. He was beaten up by a bunch of Demobats, getting choked out and bitten on his stomach.

That explained a lot why he was so lightheaded at your house, Robin offering a glass of water while he was trying to catch his breath. Eddie was looking out your window, checking on the house, and it brought you to finally ask them about why they were there.

"So you're going to lure this demon into my house?", you were trying to digest the whole situation. You learned about first aid before, so you prepared a whole kit to patch Steve, otherwise he would die on your couch.

"He's probably not coming now anyway", Munson said. Poor guy was still terrified as he had never been face to face with something like that. Neither were you.

"He's learned we were after him to get him killed before he opened the portals in Hawkins". It was hard for you to believe everything about this story. You've heard about Upside Down before, you knew about other people's deaths that were caused by the supernatural. It was just too much to gather.

You nodded as you sat on the couch closer to Steve, and Robin sat next to Eddie on the other side of the livingroom. His wounds were oozing, and he was panting from the pain. Harrington couldn't fight against the pounding pain against his ribs, either.

"Just try to breathe slowly, it can ease the pain", you said. He tried looking at you, but held his head back against the furniture. "This is going to sting a lot, but I'm going to use some analgesic for the injuries, so you can get comfortable".

You weren't that close to Steve, even though you were almost always together, considering you were too close to Robin. Despite that, you were madly annoyed over how his girlfriend, Nancy, who would be such a dumbass with him.

She wasn't that nice to the guy, she would bitch about him all the time saying he was too clingy, and would ditch him to keep her status at the parties. You always thought he was too nice to his closest friends and specially to her.

He was always nice to you as well and you would banter about nonsense stuff at some point, having fun with the way you'd respond to each other. But still, you didn't know about his secrets, about his private life.

You heard him groan as you started to stitch him up, making sure the anesthesia kicks in on the rest of his wounds. It makes you flinch at the way he holds back his screaming from the pain and how he squirms his body in response.

"Has... anybody talked to Nancy- about what happened..", he was trying his best to keep his sanity while you're working on the needle through his body. You let out a scoff and he noticed it.

"You barely died, your friends are all worried about you, and you only worry about the single person who didn't move a finger to look for you?", you asked. It obviously came out the wrong way, as you didn't mean to be rude. But Robin realized she wasn't the only one to be so incredibly against his relationship.

But the thing is, she had the right to, she was his best friend. You were only his friend for a while and even though you get along, you couldn't just barge into his life like that.

"She's my girlfriend, (Y/N). I care for her", he responded. His body started to rest as the analgesic and the anesthesia were working, giving him some comfort.

"Well, is she here right now?", you give him a smirk and he furrows his brows.

"Steve, she has a point", Robin states. "Look, we've talked about that before. Once, I told you I didn't like the way she acted around you, and I still don't. If she's not looking for you, maybe it's just not worth it".

She assured him she would be by his side, even if his relationship wouldn't work anymore. But he wasn't in the mood for that right now. He was dealing with a lot of pain and with the fact he almost died to Demobats. As you finished his stomach injuries, you started giving attention to his face, his right brow was split open.

"I'm sorry about that", your touch was light and he closed his eyes. He didn't have much of a choice but to let you do your work. It didn't hurt that much like before, either way.

"Nah, I've been beaten up before", he said, playfully. "Just this time, the pain is worse".

"I didn't mean the beating". You whispered as your hand stitched up his skin. You had this weird feeling in the pitch of your stomach, which made you confused by your response about his relationship with Nancy.

"Oh.. yeah, maybe you were right. It wasn't the first time I heard about it. I guess I'm just not good at reading between the lines". Harrington sounded really hurt by the way he talked about it. He had to deal with a lot lately, specially with Vecna trying to kill him and his friends.

As you finished your work, you got up from the couch and started packing the first aid kit. "You guys should stay here for the night. You two can sleep in the guest bedroom", you smiled.

It's not just that it would be better for them, but you were kinda worried about the demon out there. Now that he knows they're out looking for him, it's just not good if they split up. In fact, staying at your house isn't even the best option, but you didn't want to be alone.

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

You just couldn't sleep. You were thinking too much about Vecna and the portal thing Robin was talking about. She seemed to be sleeping very peacefully on your king-sized bed, lying comfortably on the mattress under your blankets.

Shouldn't she be careful and awake, hoping for something to happen? Maybe she shouldn't, but you were. You couldn't wrap your head around the fact that those things out there existed. You rolled over your bed and headed to the kitchen, maybe if you drink some water or even a medicine for your sleep you could actually rest.

All the lights were out except the one from your hallway, which was almost always on. You were wondering if Eddie and Steve were also asleep or just taking turns in case anything happened. Somehow, you felt helpless after realizing you were the only one awake. Or you thought so.

You almost had a stroke as you approached the kitchen and saw a shadow in the kitchen counter. Your gasp wasn't loud enough to wake the house, but it surprised him. Steve was standing there, also dumbfounded, holding a bread knife. You would've laughed if it wasn't for the jumpscare.

"Jesus Christ, you walk too quietly", he said, still holding the knife. Standing on his feet while resting his hand on the chair.

You scoff, it's not like you'd do that on purpose. "And you're holding a bread knife".

"Can't always be that prepared", he replied. You turned on the kitchen light and it slightly illuminated the place. You let out a small grin.

"I thought you and Eddie were both sleeping. Or at least taking turns", he shook his head.

"Well, he snores, and I can't sleep through this sharp pain on my body. So I figured I would at least stay away from him". He sounded exhausted, even though his tone was playful. "And you?".

"I can't sleep either. In fact, I think I'm too scared to", you revealed. It's like you were ashamed to admit it and he noticed it. You thought he would make fun of you at some point.

"It's going to be okay. We'll figure something out, we always do", he grabbed your hand, giving you some comfort. Harrington gave you a sincere smirk.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I didn't mean to sound nosy or rude at all". He looked down on his foot and breathed through his mouth, like a sigh. "It's your relationship, I know. I just don't like her".

"You and Robin share the same feeling, honestly", Steve pointed out, running one of his hands through his hair. The other one was now resting on his hip. "I kinda get why if I think about that now. Of all the people who knew we were dragged there, she was the only one who didn't ask".

He was bitter, and you sensed this was a very tough topic for him to talk about. He was almost killed, he was beaten up several times, and she didn't have the time to ask about him? She didn't mind just calling him to see how he was after that.

You knew why you couldn't just not say anything about it, because he was one of the sweetest people you know, and it's annoying how he doesn't get the attention he deserves.

"Look, I know it's not a good situation. But you deserve a lot better than that", you said as you walked towards the fridge, grabbing a bowl of ice cream. Ice cream was always a good way of getting the pain numb.

You put the bowl on the counter and grabbed a pair of spoons, offering him one. You saw him give you a small smile.

"I don't know about you, but I like to use this as an excuse to avoid any emotion or pain. At least at the moment". You explained, and you grabbed a spoonful of the sweet.

He followed you and ate a huge amount of the ice cream, making him scrunch his nose, squinting his face. He could barely eat the whole thing as it was freezing his brain out, and you laughed softly.

"You can't inhale the food, Steve", you were still trying to hold back the bursting laugh that was threatening to leave your mouth, and promptly gave him a glass of water.

He chugged the whole liquid and held back his head, tears were streaming down his face as he tried to breathe.

"Fuck, this is like torture". You looked at him and snorted, he literally forgot he was almost killed. "What- oh, yeah, I take that back", he was grinning as he grabbed another spoonful.

For the next few minutes, you were just enjoying the sweetness of that dessert while listening to the clock in your living room. Steve didn't say another word after that, but it wasn't uncomfortable at all.

When you felt like you had enough of the ice cream, he grabbed the bowl to himself and started digging. You grabbed a water jar for both of you after eating so much, you just had to digest it.

It was almost 4 am when you decided to go back to bed, realizing you should be safe for now, specially knowing Steve was still there, and he would fight for his life as he always did.

"Thank you for... you know", he said, making a gesture to his whole body. "The painkillers will certainly be of help".

"Of course, I'm glad I could be supportive". You didn't mean to sound sarcastic, but when you realized what you said, it was already done. You knew he might take it to his heart because of Nancy, but you were being honest at least.

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

After they left the next day to try and find their friend to kill Vecna, you only heard about what would happen through Robin. And it had been days since they were gone off the map to avoid the portals to open. You learned they never made it, you felt the earthquake under your feet as the city started shaking.

It was definitely the most traumatizing moment for you, as you weren't home when it happened, and you didn't know what you were supposed to do then. A few moments later, you finally got a call from Robin.

"Did you guys do it? What happened? Robin, everything is a mess here, Hawkins is in a mad shape", you said desperately, as soon as you picked up your phone.

"We didn't", she sighed. "Eddie is dead and-", you gasped under your breath as she paused. "Vecna didn't die, he's just wounded". She sounded really hurt about all that happened to them. Robin wasn't even in her normal state.

"How's Steve? Is he alive?", you asked too fast. You heard your heart thumping in your ears, your eyes burning from the tears that were almost escaping.

"Yes, he is. He's done with Nancy. It ended up in a non-conventional way though", she responded. "How are you, babe?".

You? You couldn't even describe how you were feeling. You just experienced an earthquake, you heard Eddie was dead, Vecna was still out there. The only good thing about that was that your friends were still alive, the kids were still alive.

You started to cry over the phone and didn't realize Robin was doing the same along with you, because she got you. She knew everything was still new for you, it was hard for you to understand all that. And the fact she had to experience all of that was also hard for her.

"We're coming back soon", she said after a while. "If your house is still in place, care to sort out your first aid kit? We're also going to need a few more rooms". You laughed at the way she asked you to host them at your place.

You went back home after that. Everything was still in place except for a few objects lying on the floor, a few broken things were splattered across the house, but you still had your place. You grabbed your first aid bag and left it in the living room.

You didn't know what to expect from them, you didn't know how hurt they were, but Robin didn't say anything, so you figured it wasn't a major injury anyway.

A few hours later, you heard a knock on the room and quickly ran to open it. Steve and Robin were facing you with a small grin, but behind them Lucas, Will, Dustin, Max and Evelen had that scared look on their faces. You let them in, looking behind you before closing the door.

They told you how most of the fight happened. Eddie died trying to save them after all. It hit you like a giant rock, you never expected that to happen too soon. And that was why you never tried to invest on helping them fight against all the monsters under Hawkins.

You just wanted to help them, giving them your house and patching them. Maybe trying to find out something, at most. But never going after those things. And hopefully they would never go after you either. But you were almost sure they would, one day.

They were all sitting downstairs while you were arranging your guest room with some pillows and blankets. You heard them talking and sometimes laughing off the pain and the trauma they just lived. It was relieving for you to actually have them by, which made you feel safer.

Steve knocked on the door even though it was still open, just so he would make his presence noticeable. You looked over your shoulder, and he was standing there, still looking beaten. He had a dark eye, a small split on his mouth and bruises all over his arms.

You shortened the space between both of you and hugged him. Not too tight to not squeeze him and his injuries, but also not too loose. He still smelled like his cologne, mixed with the dirt and the blood from his face that dripped on his neck.

He held you back, resting one of his hands on your hair, while cupping your waist with the other. You spent a good amount of time like that, and snapped out of your daydreaming when you heard Will laughing. When you looked at Harrington closely, you saw how his eyes were bright, he had this small redness around his cheeks and he held a side smile at you.

You didn't know why you had to be to be impulsive, but you crashed your lips on his. Just enough to feel the warmth of his skin in yours. But Steve opened his mouth, deepening the kiss, browsing for your tongue. It felt like heaven when you started exploring each other's tongues.

He squeezed your waist and pulled your hair gently when you gripped his lower lip with your teeth. You gasped when he started to fasten the kiss, this time it was feral, and it had a hint of second intentions. Which you realized things changed when he started to guide you through the room until the back of your knees hit the bed.

He was about to approach you with his swollen lips when you heard footsteps, but didn't have time to break the contact, just enough to stare at an amused Dustin standing at the door.

"Ohhhh, I'm so sorry. We're about to order dinner. Didn't mean to disturb the birdies", he said, laughing at how you were looking at him.

The little guy was really sweet and funny. "Close the door next time". He said louder as he left the bedroom.

You and Steve looked at each other and snorted, laughing at how he reacted to both of you almost having at it on the bed. He rested his forehead on yours before nuzzling your nose, rubbing your chin with one hand.

"We'll catch up later", he said before giving you a wet kiss, leaving the room. He came back right after and stood on the hallway. When you looked at him, he gave you a gentle wink and a smirk before going downstairs.

Nancy just lost her chance to have a gentleman as her boyfriend. She wasn't able to give him the love he should have. And you were there sitting on the bed, thinking how things changes so fast, you were already wishing you would be that person if he'd let you.

[zablife]

Bye Bye Blackbird

Tommy Shelby x female reader

Summary: Tommy's love interest from before the war leaves for the excitement of the city, but a chance encounter years later finds her disillusioned with all that sparkles. Can he convince her to come home?

Author’s Note: Requested by the lovely @runnning-outof-time. 

Warnings: language, mention of PTSD, drinking, mention of prostitution, angst

It started before the war, you would sing in Harry’s pub on Saturdays. Back then a young man with dark hair and the bluest eyes you’d ever seen would come to listen. You knew he was there just for you because Harry said he didn’t come any other day of the week like the other regulars. He never drank much either. His two brothers would accompany him sometimes, flanking him in a booth. Each of his brothers would raise a pint, sloshing it precariously, as they jostled him back and forth with the force of their merriment. They shouted and sang along to the drinking songs, but your admirer liked the quiet, heartfelt ballads best. You wondered if he even heard them over the din of the crowd, but his lovestruck gaze told you he wasn’t just there for the songs. 

One evening in the autumn of 1913 he waited for you, twisting his cap in his hands as you pulled your coat over your shoulders. You jumped when you turned to find him waiting for you, but the gentle look in his eyes calmed you instantly. He introduced himself asking “What’s your name or shall I go on referring to you as Blackbird?” 

“Blackbird?” you asked inquisitively, a warmth creeping into your face and ears.

“Yes because they sing into the night like you do,” he explained, looking down at his shoes. “I didn’t know what else to call you.”

“Oh, I see…erm, you can call me Y/n now if you like. My name is Y/n,” you stumbled over your words, wondering how often Tommy had spoken of you to others.

That night he offered to walk you home, careful to watch for any discomfort in your posture. When you displayed a radiant smile, he felt his heart swell and that started a nightly ritual that quickly escalated to seeing one another as often as possible.

There wasn’t much romance to be found in a town as rough and cold as Brimingham, but Tommy transformed it just for you with late night strolls by the canal and quiet chats in his Uncle Charlie’s scrap metal yard. You found you could talk to Tommy about anything because he understood what it was to dream about having more in the midst of the smoke and dirt that surrounded you. 

Although you didn’t offer much about yourself at first, Tommy revealed his gentle nature in the way he was with the horses. It was one of the first things he shared with you, confiding how he hoped to have his own stables one day. He demonstrated how to pet the large beasts in slow, deliberate strokes. With his hand over yours, you felt comforted as well.

Somehow over time, there in the dark stillness of the night, it was easier to confess how much you wanted from life. You dreamed of brightly lit stages and audiences of bejeweled patrons clapping just for you. Tommy was the only person who didn’t laugh at you. He would listen as you spoke, eyes shining in the dim light as though it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever heard. “Will you come see me when I’m famous?” you giggled.

“Every night,” he replied earnestly, tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear, leaning in for a tender kiss.

A year later he wasn’t on his way to an opera house or even a dance hall. You walked him to the train station for a tearful goodbye neither of you were fully prepared to say.——————————————————-

In the months that followed, you waited for Tommy’s letter saying he was coming home. No one expected the war to last and Tommy had promised to return to you swiftly. Keeping hope alive, you washed your hair on Fridays and put on his favorite dress, swaying and singing along to the tune of a gramophone. Truthfully, the ritual of it was the only thing tethering you to sanity. You longed for the day you’d receive a letter asking you to make the bed and light a fire to welcome him home. You were hopeful in the early days. 

As the years wore on, those ideas faded with the dreams of your youth and you became more practical. With the men away at war, you took up a job at the BSA and forgot about singing. No one wanted to hear your songs, and even if they had, you struggled to remember the words. You’d watched countless women, unskilled at their work, fall victim to injury and you were disillusioned by a life locked away in a factory. 

When a coworker named Millie began concocting a plan to run away to London to escape the pressures of daily life, you began to lend a sympathetic ear. Soon temptation descended and you were unable to deny you wanted a way out as well. However, you often reminded yourself that your circumstances weren’t the same as hers. Her brother had returned with a bad case of shell shock, flying into fits of rage that left her and her mother scared for their lives. You couldn’t blame her for wanting to leave, but you had Tommy to think of. What if he came home to no one waiting for him? Could you abandon him that way?

Then Tommy’s letters stopped arriving in the mail and you failed at all attempts to push dark thoughts from your mind. No matter what you did, they crept in at night like a thief, stealing the happy memories you’d carefully stored away. When you were alone and scared, trembling from fear that Tommy may never return, the devil whispered in your ear that you were all alone. Convinced there was nothing left for you at home, you made a new life in London and never looked back.

You and Millie let a flat together and tried to be family for one another. Without leaving a forwarding address, you had no other choice. Millie found work in a bakery and you jumped at the chance to perform at the Eden Club. Things looked bright for a brief shining moment before your tomorrows began to fade away once more.

———————————

"Blackbird?” a low, rough voice called from behind your left shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps down your arm. It had been so long since anyone called you that. You knew it could only be one man. A lump formed in your throat involuntarily and you briefly considered walking away, but you knew he’d only follow you. Turning to face him, you readied a mask for the occasion, hoping the cracks didn’t show.

“Hello handsome,” you purred, treating him like any other customer.

Tommy halted as he observed you, “Can we talk?” he asked hesitantly. It had been far too long and he had so much he wanted to know. You’d left Birmingham abruptly and no one had been able to find you, though plenty of people still asked about the girl with the beautiful voice.

“That depends,” you said, batting your lashes at him. “I’m in high demand this time of night so you’ll have to pay for the privilege.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you, unfamiliar with this new persona. It was so far removed from the fresh faced girl he’d known from the Garrison. The finger waves in your hair and the short dress weren’t the only differences though, your whole attitude had changed. You carried yourself with an air of haughty entitlement.

“Why don’t you start by buying me a drink,” you suggested, raising your empty champagne glass to his eye level.

“The girl I used to know drank cordial and water,” he said, removing his hat, the light reflecting off the sharp edged metal at his fingertips.

“Well, people grow up,” you explained with a sharp inhale and a tight smile. “The boy I knew didn’t have razor blades sewn into his cap,” you retorted, eyeing him suspiciously. 

You had heard all about Tommy’s business back in Birmingham. He was making a name for himself as a dangerous gangster whom many feared. While it hurt to hear how much the war had changed him, the deepest cut was knowing he arrived home safely and never came looking for you, but you couldn’t show that now.

Tommy clenched his jaw as he shoved his cap into his pocket, taking a step closer to you. “It’s not the same, Y/n,” he protested, shaking his head. You rolled your eyes, wondering how he could be so naive to think people didn’t change with time and circumstance. If Sabini’s men were to be believed, he was no different than you when it came to making deals.

“Do you want to know a secret?” you asked leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, light breath fanning over his ear as your fingertips brushed along his shoulder. “Everyone’s a whore, Tommy. We just sell different parts of ourselves.” Pulling back to see if it had the desired effect, you gave him a knowing smile. Tommy’s handsome face held a note of pain briefly as he realized he didn’t recognize the hardened woman before him. 

“When I returned home from France, I did what I had to do for my family. If you had waited for me, I would have helped you too. I can still help you,” he asserted.

“You’re on the wrong side of pity, Tommy,” you scoffed. “I don’t need you to take care of me. I did that quite well for five years,” you explained, but the words took on a pathetic, hollow tone, even to your ears. 

You might have changed the scenery over time, but your days were as difficult and tedious as they had been at the factory. Life as a chorus girl took you nowhere so you’d had to find other means to pay the rent. Providing company to wealthy gentlemen might have kept a roof over your head, but it didn’t fill the hole in your heart. You shook your head, knowing it was too late for regrets and feeling too stubborn to admit your plight to Tommy.

As usual though, Tommy saw through you. “You expect me to believe this is the life you chose, eh?” You looked away momentarily, gritting your teeth when confronted by the dirty secret lying beneath your glittering facade.

“If you feel you’ve humiliated me enough for one evening, I’ll go,” you said, attempting to brush past Tommy, but he grabbed your arm above the elbow, pulling you back to face him. The beads of your dress clashed against your body, protesting the sudden stop and your face held a momentary hint of shock.

“You had a perfectly good life in Birmingham. Come home,” he pleaded, brows knit in a serious expression.

“I’m not stupid enough to think anyone back home is waiting for my return. Who would love me now?” you asked, bitterness seeping from your tongue. 

“I would,” Tommy said, blue eyes holding you in a determined stare. “Do you believe me?” He held his breath as he awaited an answer.

“A thousand sunrises ago…I might have,” you said sorrowfully, Meeting his gaze you confessed, “I’m not sure I have a place for you, in here, anymore Tommy,” you said, gesturing toward your heart. “I’ve had to shut everyone out for so long to survive and I’m not sure I have the courage to change,” you apologized as tears welled in your eyes. 

You’d already held them back as long as you could and now they threatened to spring forth and reveal your weakness. Feeling as though you might suffocate, you pulled away from him and pushed through the crowd to find a way out. You could hear Tommy shouting at people, shoving them out of his way in his haste to follow you. “Don’t look back,” you mumbled angrily to yourself, swiping at the rivulets, trickling down your cheeks, ruining your make up. 

Once outside, you walked brusquely in the cold night air, heels clicking against the pavement until your lungs burned. You didn’t want to think about what Tommy was offering or how badly you wanted him back in your life. You heard the heavy door of the club slam shut, followed by footsteps pounding incessantly behind you. “Y/n, stop! Look in my eyes and tell me you don’t remember what we used to be?”

You stopped suddenly, dropping your head in your hands. You did remember, every night spent singing to him at the Garrison and every sunrise over the canal. As you stood, shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs, Tommy approached carefully and placed his coat around you for warmth.

“Cause I never forgot. I tried to find you, but Sabini’s men got to my messenger first,” Tommy said, hanging his head at the memory of the boy who had been killed crossing into enemy territory to find you.

“What?” you said, spinning around to face him. “You looked for me?” Tommy nodded in affirmation. “You forgave me for leaving?” you asked, wiping the tears as they fell.

“Nothing to forgive,” Tommy said with a quick shake of his head. You’d done nothing to deserve your circumstances. He only wanted you home where you could be together. 

He offered you his handkerchief as you let out a sniffle. “Tommy, what if we don’t work out?” you asked in a small, frightened voice.

“Only one way to find out,” he said, reaching a hand out toward you, “Come back to me, Blackbird. I don't want to say goodbye again.”

---------------------------

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