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anadiasmount · 6 months

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limit - jude bellingham series.

quick sum: shy and innocent uni student by day but a notorious street racer at night, meets now currently best footballer jude bellingham under certain circumstances. what happens when these two are forced to get along, in order for them to get out of trouble? will they sacrifice their careers in order to protect themselves?

wc: 4.7k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: hello! this is a request mixed with an idea i had. this is a small five-part series since I didn’t want to do a large fic. i really hope you enjoy since it’s a enemies to lovers, ‘she fell but he fell harder’, car girl! reader, and jude being somewhat cocky and mean but a huge teddy bear. pls note that i don’t condone any street racing or hectic driving! this series will have mature content so minors DNI 🔞. it will also contain other issues dealing with family domestic issues, mentions of being insecure, etc, but I'll place the warning then :) please enjoy chapter one, and let me know your thoughts! 🤍

“Now class I hate to stress this enough but you have to take exquisite and thorough notes. It will not only guide you but help and take you to the correct path for this course,” said Professor Alto. I felt like rolling my eyes and walking out of the lecture room, but instead, I just turned over and laughed with Marie, who was already staring at me. “He says that every class period, I'm starting to get annoyed because we’ve been taking this class for the past month,” Marie snickers.

“True but in all honesty he does have a point,” I raise my eyebrow and look back at the Professor who was now walking back and forth presenting the slides. “Shut up. We get it you’re smart,” Marie groans and pushes my shoulder, taking out some gum and then paying attention forward. “I'm sorry, I would like to run my own business one day, and this is where I have to start first.” This time I push her shoulder, and hear her mutter a ‘Yeah yeah whatever…’

I grabbed my bag and pulled out my notebook, took different coloured pens, and began to write down the slides, using other different coloured pens to write important texts and or highlights. It’s just girly things. We would be here for a while, as this lecture would take up to three hours, so I got comfortable. “What are you wearing tonight?” Marie whispered, leaning her head on my shoulder as she typed away.

“Probably something black,” I shrugged, “I might wear this new corset top and black jeans since I'm racing tonight.” Marie looked over at me with wide eyes, “But isn't your car still in the shop?”

“No, it got fully fixed two days ago, and tonight I wanna see if the new adjustments are working properly,” I say, taking a sip of water and rubbing my eyes as they feel dry. “Y/n are you sure that’s a good idea though? You just got your car back, and knowing how you race, especially after just getting it back can be dangerous. If something happens, all that work that was done would go to waste,” Marie stresses, and I notice that because she began to talk with her hands.

“I know the risks, trust me. But I need this money for me, my mom, and my little sister. I'm working two double shifts and if I win tonight, I'm set for the next two months. It won’t be an easy race, but at this point what more can I do?” I sigh and rub my temple, a small migraine wanting to form.

It wasn't easy anymore. It became harder when we had to move out of my dad’s place as he began to become a different and mad person. It wasn’t the environment I wanted to be involved in, let alone my mother and sister. It became especially harder when he came and did mass destruction on our property, and tried to hurt us. The night repeatedly lives in my head, the screams, the yelling, the smashing windows, the red and blue lights, it's hard to sleep as any time I close my eyes I just see him.

I always had a great relationship with him. We were close and happy. I grew up wanting to be him, and he always set examples and tried for us. He would do my hair, teach me how to cook his chocolate chip cookies, and even go on to show me how to play the piano. We spent every weekend working in his mechanic shop, working on dear old Darla for one day to be driven by me. The old black Ford was now ruined into pieces when he went crazy after discovering he would be arrested.

What changed in him to become that way, was the question I kept repeating over and over again. If the truth comes out one day, maybe we can be at peace. But for now, it's being cautious and assuring the safety of my family. I sacrificed a lot to be able to support us, as well as my mom. The car racing was something I randomly got into, my mom didn't like it, but in a way for me, I escaped reality.

The adrenaline rush. The speed. The rush overtakes my body. The determination to win as the prize in the end holds a lot of possession. Maybe even the idea of it being illegal also took a more motive of why not, as bad as it sounded. I became a hell of a driver, I was the best of the best, and some people took that personally.

The tracks and races became a second home to me. The ability to conduct and take charge of my own was truly an honour. For once, only I listened to myself instead of others. For once I could do something that made me happy, as much as it felt wrong to do. I met people, good and bad, and stayed away from the bad as they reminded me of my dad. A weekend like tonight started at the tracks but indeed by the city in the underground club Sahara.

I saved enough to buy myself a 2014 black Dodge Challenger. Slowly I made work by changing the motor from a V6 to a V8, running to almost 470 horsepower. The rims were also replaced with all black, and I added other features like a loud exhaust and a cold air intake system, just recently. This would’ve never been done if I didn't have Jimmy, an old friend of my dad’s. He never questioned what I did to my car, just wished me ‘good luck, and be careful’.

When my mom found out about my car, she threatened to kick me out. That same night I brought back $1,800 and left them on the table, muttering a quick “This is why I do what I do”. Since then she hasn’t questioned, just used the money for savings, groceries, and bills. I would of course help out, especially on bigger and expensive things, like Uni. Uni was expensive, and I sure as heck was lucky to afford what I could.

My first race was over a year ago, in the older tracks leaving Madrid. It was a secluded area only known to nearby residents, or people like me who raced, or those who went to live life a little. You could expect anyone there. I knew of this place after Marie and her girlfriend Kaia took me. My first race was that same night after a girl got pissed at me for accidentally bumping her shoulder with her boyfriend.

One thing led to another, and then you saw me at the finish line in Marie’s Grey Nissan Altima. That baby could run, period.

Part of me could say I also got addicted to how much money it would bring home. I didn't care if it was clean or dirty money, it met my needs, and I was grateful for it. Multiple people have gone against me but they can’t race like I can. There are tips and tricks to it, whether it is releasing the clutch early or letting the car struggle a bit before making the shift. Slow down or maybe speed up. You learn along the way.

My biggest rivals of them all were Jacey and Jacqueline. They made my life a living hell a week before finals. They insisted and threatened me to race them or else I would be kicked out and can’t ever place my foot on the tracks. They were the best anyone had seen, but I knew what they wanted. They were a part of a malicious gang in the northern part of Spain. If I won, I would be free and they were to never bother me, but if I lost I would do laundering and drug exchange.

I won that night, by some miracle. It turned out Jacey was racing unfairly and it didn't count as he had cheated. They would always go against me, and it became sort of a rival race whenever we did go against each other. Like tonight. Tonight would be a big night, it would be a packed race, and surely every young adult would be there.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re going against Jacqueline tonight? How could you have failed to tell me this?” Marie ran, her back across the wall as I got myself a redbull to survive the rest of the day. We had a 20-minute break, and now we were seated outside waiting to go back in.

“I didn’t know either, Max texted me this just a couple of hours ago,” I said, taking a sip of the energy drink. I pulled out my phone and showed her the message. “Well, I can see why you’re doing this then,” Marie points to the text of the amount of cash I could win. “What did you end up fixing in your car?”

“I did a bit of mostly everything. I added high-flow catalytic converters, high-flow mid pipes, high-flow fuel injectors, high-flow air induction systems, an upgraded header, and upgraded pulleys. Just newer stuff that the new challengers have nowadays,” I say, laughing at Marie's confused face staring back at me. “Well whatever you said, let’s hope it works out.”

“Trust me it will. Because you’ll be in the seat next to me to see” I smirked.

“Bitch no I am not, the fuck?” Marie gives me a puzzled look. I give her a look for using such profanity. I hated it, I didn't like such strong and hateful words, especially those that meant hurting someone's feelings. I never cursed, I just didn't see the fun or thrill of it, which shocked many.

“You are because you lost the bet last week. And Sheila is out of town. So better bring your mask and helmet,” I say, opening my iPad to get some studying done before my business class after this lecture. “Plus when have you ever turned down the opportunity to ride with me? I know you secretly love it,” I wink at her to which he just shakes her head and smirks.

“I'll do it, but only if you wear the black midi skirt I got you. As a matter of fact, I’ll ride with you only if you let me get you ready and get you sexy,” Marie says. I blush profusely and immediately shake my head no. I would rather die than be seen wearing anything more revealing than my boobs. I'm just too shy and not confident for it. I can’t rock outfits like Marie can.

“Funny but no. You know me, I am good with a revealing top and maybe some tight jeans,” I brushed her idea once again, but knowing how she could be, especially when she's a fashion major, it would be hard. “Either deal or no deal. You know you need me in order to race,” she tries to intimidate to which I finally agree. “I will make you the sexiest girl there. Who knows maybe you’ll be lucky and get laid,” she taunts, an evil grin on her lips.

“Marie!”

“Oh quit the act. We know you are shy and innocent, but you become a freak and a total show when you race. I'll see you tonight,” she winks and walks out, completely leaving the lecture.

—/— Jude’s Point of View —/—

After matches came recovery. And after recovery, it was either a day off or prepping for the next match. Luckily I had the gym area to myself, working with a physical trainer on my knee and doing a few exercises that were as much work. I just needed something to preoccupy my mind before I met with my publicist. It's not that I hated him, I just didn't tolerate such a person like him.

I dragged out this meeting as far as possible but knowing how he is, he wouldn't care. After briefly talking with the PT about a few stretches I could do at home, I walked down the cafeteria and met up with Eduardo, who invited lunch for the both of us. We sat down and just talked about the game plays and the upcoming international break.

Lunch went by quickly, now I found myself walking down the small hallway into the office that belonged to my publicist. I resented him even more for working at the training grounds. I would rather be anywhere else but here. I put myself together and walked into the office only for it to be empty. I just take a seat and go on my phone bored. When Jaime does walk in, he hangs up and opens the manilla folder, where stacks of papers are in.

“Jude you have to quit going out so much! Look at all these articles!” Jaime raised his voice and threw the printed papers onto the marble desk. I rolled my eyes and sunk into my chair, my legs naturally spread apart, as my hand came to my temple.

“Real Madrid’s new star boy stars on and off the pitch. Ancelotti’s new golden boy has a record similar to Grealish, could we expect to see the young player get involved in the same stuff? Oh, my favourite, Jude Bellingham is seen leaving the strip club after the place was recently investigated by local authorities!” Jaime read off the articles, leaning forward to slap the side of my head, when he noticed my unfazed look. “Okay, I get it! Shit!”

“No Jude you don’t get it! How many times have I told you this isn't England? You're in Spain. Dealing with both countries who are on your ass to find every single detail of you. They follow you around with a camera because you let them, you give them a reason too. It's already the fans doing it, but the paparazzi, no I won’t let that slide,”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do? I’ve done everything you’ve suggested me to do! I can’t stop them, or else I'll end up on the cover the next morning. I can’t just quit my fun, because of them. I deserve to have a nice evening with my friends and family, but they're always there!” I bite back.

Not even my mother keeps tabs on me like this man does. I appreciate Jaime, but it's moments like this where I want to get up and leave and do the opposite of what he tells me to do. He takes his job too seriously and overworks himself way too much. I can’t exactly be the person he wants me to be. I hate being driven around or being forced to be someone I'm not.

“We have no say and do on the paparazzi, you know that. But if you keep doing what you do, I'll have to get you a stricter PR contract, and I can assure you, it will be hell. You choose Jude. One more fuck up and it's the first text you’ll receive the next morning,” Jaime threatened.

“You can’t be serious. Jaime, I can’t be hidden away the entire time! I don’t give a shit about what they think of me! I'm focused on football and my family. I told you to let them be and write what they write!,” I say, standing up and grabbing my training bag to leave. “It's my job to protect your image as a person and footballer, Jude. And it will be like that. If you have such an issue, go ahead and fire me, but we both know what that will do for the both of us…”

“One more fuck up Jude, and you will see.” I scoff and walk out, slamming his door. The office workers jump in their seats, while I mumble out curses and insults towards him. Would he really go that far just to keep his job? Threaten my image for his self-satisfaction? Yes, he would. I sigh and scratch my chin impatiently, trying to come up with a different plan to avoid the PR contract he was talking about. But all I could do was come up with reasons and stuff to piss him off.

The idea of a PR stunt sounded stupid. Sure, I have had my share of scandals but nothing too serious like he dramatises. People just can't seem to stand the idea of no commitment, especially if it involves girls. They also couldn't stand the idea of a footballer wanting to go out and enjoy a night of themselves. Some people can be so unreasonable, like Jaime, I would say what I had to say, and I didn't care for anyone’s feelings especially if I spit out the truth.

“Yo! Hey Jude! What’s up? Looks like you got back from speaking with Carlo,” Eduardo comes up and dabs me up, teasing me for my stressed look. I chuckle, “Nah man. My publicist is pissing me off. Trying to tell me what to do and giving me shit about all these articles.”

“When will they learn,” he comments, his brow nudging to the obvious. “For the moment mine hasn't given me ‘advice’ or ‘warnings’ after our trip to South France.”

“Well lucky you. I just can’t stress about this shit right now. We have the upcoming important games, and I am determined to win. And if I do go out, he shouldn’t be up my ass about it every time,” I groan, taking out my phone and seeing a call from Aurélien. “Tchou, how can I help you?” I joke, referring to when he dealt with his situationship while on our trip to France.

“Ha ha, very funny. What are you up to tonight? We’re free tomorrow.”

“Probably nothing. Just walked out on my publicist, so If you have anything in mind to do, say it,” I put the phone on speaker so Eduardo could hear, and let him know. “Me and the guys were gonna head out the city to go to a car meet, out of Madrid,” he says. I give a look to Eduardo who just shrugs his shoulders not retaining the information.

“A car meet? Those exist here?”

“Yes, dumbass. You’d be surprised but, they're very fun. Although we shouldn't be there, it's the only place where people and paparazzi can’t recognize us. They treat each other and us like royalty, plus who wouldn’t mind some fun?” Aurélien says to us. I hesitate, only because of what just happened inside, but also the idea of it being illegal and caught. “You guys in or not?”

“Count me in.”

Jaime wouldn't know. And if Aurélien is saying we wouldn't be recognized, then why the fuck not? I'm not here to just pose for cameras and play. I'm also a regular person who deserves to live his life the way I want. Part of me thought of how bad this idea could be, but truthfully I didn’t give a shit, I just wanted to piss off Jaime. Aurélien advises us to dress nice since people who attended those car races often thought of them as fashion shows. Which is found myself calling the only girl who could help me out.

“Hey, Sunny? Sorry for the late call, could you help me out with an outfit for tonight? Just don't mention it to Jaime.”

—/— (Your Point of View) —/—

“Ok no- That’s like way too revealing! I couldn't pull that off” I brushed away the shortest skirt she found. “Nuh uh- No way. You're going to wear it, and it's going to be worn with these shoes and lace meshy top,” Marie comes behind me and puts both hangers to my front. “My whole butt is out in this skirt! People are gonna see my-” I waved with my hands to my lower region to which she snickers.

“Either you race or don’t,” Marie says, to which I just squint my eyes together. “Fine! I will at least pick out my jacket!” I pick up the clothes and quickly change into the pieces of clothes she gave me. My makeup was already done, a simple and not too heavy look since I had to wear a mask and helmet underneath while I raced. All I had to do was take my hair out of my rollers and apply some deodorant and jewellery and we could make the drive down.

Marie gasped as I walked out, clapping her hands excitedly as she approached me. “You look so fucking hot, I could make out with you!” Her hands roam and fix my skirt so they pull lower and hang around my hips. I give her a look but she quickly shrugs me. I go to the mirror and tug on both items. “I don't know whether to pull this up or or tug it down,” I say shuffling.

“Hurry! Fix your hair and put your boots on. You have a race to win!”

I pose for a selfie when I see Marie point her phone towards me, my hands on the steering wheel as I pull into the gravel road that heads to the main road to the tracks. Goosebumps raise my skin as I hear the music and loud car exhaust as we pull in. Other cars are doing donuts, which I find silly, or showing off their engines. “Hi Matty, how are ya tonight?” I ask the middle-aged man who sighs and hands me my racer number and time slot. He’s tired of his job, but just like everyone else here, he has his reasons. “Same old same old. I bet money on ya tonight, so you better win against that trashy girl Jacqueline,” he points out, handing me back the cashback after I paid. “Good luck tonight, make us proud!” he winks.

I smile and shift to one as I drive down to the start of the line. The tracks are old and kinda messy. They can shift from gravel to normal roads, which causes some drivers to lose focus. “Nervous for tonight?” Marie asks to which I nervously nod. “I mean it's against Jacqueline, we’ve had our shares in the past and she’s good,” I say.

“Yeah but not as good as you. Keep that in mind. Just think of the money, it will be your motive,” she says. We open the door and step out, I hear commotion and then look up to people cheering for me. I wave and thank them before walking over to our group who’s standing by the starting line. We all hug and chat about the race, which is filled with a lot of rivals going head to head.

I could feel my blood pumping as I watched the two Mustangs take out, their exhaust fumes following. The excitement you face also comes to anticipation as you watch which car will make it first to the end. The yellow Mustang wins by .4 seconds after they race for almost two minutes. I turn to the side when I hear my name being called, “Y/n, when are we gonna race?”

“As soon as you let me see what’s under your hood,” they scoff and walk off. It would've been too easy…

—/— (Jude’s Point of View) ---/—

The black LV suit was perfect for the occasion. Aurélien was right, people do dress as if they were attending fashion shows here. We all decided to go in two cars, making the almost forty-minute drive down to this closed-off restricted area. We followed the guide who led us up to the almost ‘VIP’ area.

The commotion was loud. People were either drinking, making out, or dancing. Or those who wanted to feel lucky, gambled money by playing poker. This truly did feel like a bad idea now, but I couldn't care less now that I was drinking a beer. We had clear and perfect views of the track, I was lucky to attend an F1 show in the past but this? This was completely different.

Fancy or new cars racing, and it was just the beginning. I talked with Eduardo for a good time as I observed the loud car go head to head towards the finish line. Music played loudly, but as Aurélien had said, no one recognized us. We step out and that’s when I notice the black challenger pull in. Two girls step out, but it's the driver who gets my attention. She chews gum and listens with boredom as they explain the rules to her.

My eyes roam down her slim and fit body, and I get a closer look when she quickly puts on her mask and helmet. I find myself not being able to look away, especially after she faces her opponent, ignoring their truce handshake. She’s too confident and now has my full attention.

Her windows are rolled down, her hand on the wheel, and the other is on the gear shift, patiently waiting for the light to turn green. “Who’s that?” I finally speak, completely forgetting I was in mid-conversation with Eduardo. “That’s Y/n in the black challenger. And in the red camaro is Jacqueline. They hate their guts, biggest rivals after Jacqueline's brother cheated on a race. Y/n, she’s the best of the best…” speaks a different guy. “Word on the street is that Jacqueline is involved in a gang, but who knows,” he says.

Y/n pulls out her thumb signalling she’s ready, and then quickly drives off when the light turns green. Just like the guy had said, she was the best of the best, quickly drifting and turning onto the tracks. Her car was faster than the red camaro, and you could tell the determination to win was there. I just waited for it to go the other way.

Soon yelling and commotion started when Jacqueline caught up, and took the lead, Y/n just maintained her speed and control as before. “What is she doing? She’ll lose if she doesn't catch up!” said another guy. I furrowed my brows and crossed my arms, looking back at the two cars on the race track. I didn’t understand how this worked, but it looked like not even I could make those turns, especially at those speeds.

Everyone gasped or oohed when the camaro lost control and failed to do the sharp tight turn correctly, cheering when Y/n went back to the lead and quickly made it to the finish line. We walked down to the starting line where she got out, and put her hands up, and cheered. She took her helmet and mask off, and that's when I truly was drawn to her facial features. “Bro? You’re drooling,” Brahim joked to which I just pushed his shoulder.

The crowd went quiet as the red camero pulled in, an angry Jacqueline and passenger getting off to confront Y/n. “You cheated!” she points at her to which the girl wearing all black just snorted and chuckled, “No babes. You just suck. I won, just like the other times before. Now go whine somewhere else and leave us alone for once.”

Her eyes connected with mine, and it felt like time just slowly flew by. Her lips parted, as she took me in, her hand holding the helmet and now stack of cash. She looked away and shyly smiled towards her friends, them congratulating her. She would nod then and there and only stick with those friends. “I’ll be back. Going to congratulate the winner,” I say and smile at Eduardo who wishes me luck. I don't need luck I'm Jude Bellingham.

I was determined to know more about her. Who she was, and why she raced especially. But before I could introduce myself, a loud bang and glass shattering prevented me from doing so. The last I saw while we ran was Y/n getting into her car and driving away. A loud car pulled near us, the familiar face and eyes locking with mine.

“Hurry! Get in!”

---/--- ( author's note) ---/---

hiiiii! first chapter eeekkkk! I hope you all enjoyed it and didn't think this was too long! I truly enjoyed writing this, and can't wait for you guys to read the rest. I'm also praying this doesn't flop or I'll be really upset... have an amazing day!

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #football fanfic #football one shot #football #football x you #footballer

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lilacfiresoul · 26 days

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forbid, april 4 -- @jegulus-microfic -- 1,393 words

thank you to @magswrite & @ninety-two-bees for the cat names for this one, was really struggling to think of some <3

second microfic posted today, only because i want to keep up with the dates for all of them lol and i genuinely am procrastinating uni work

----

So, Regulus can safely say that making a cake is harder than he thought.

It’s not like he’s not following the recipe—he is. He scoured the internet two days ago for a good Devil’s Food cake recipe, eventually finding one he could follow along well enough; he even stopped by the supermarket on his way home from work yesterday to get all the ingredients, writing a list and ticking items off he as went to make sure everything was accounted for.

He’s being thorough, meticulous.

But he’s never baked anything before, and, with rapidly dawning fear, he realises he’s greatly underestimated the skill that goes into it.

Dread, and the crippling desire to make this cake perfect for James, leads Regulus to run flour-dusted fingers through his hair as he squints at the recipe for the buttercream. The recipe tells him not to “over-whip”, but how is he supposed to know what that means? He’s just thankful that James, clearly the cook in this household, has all the equipment and devices needed to bake, so at least he’s got that.

By the hob, two halves of something that resembles a cake cool on a wire rack. They don’t look exactly like the picture, but hopefully it will still taste good. Hopefully.

To be honest, Regulus will be pissed if it doesn’t, as the kitchen is … Well. He glances away from the stand mixer mixing the buttercream ingredients together to stare at the evidence of what he’s been doing this afternoon.

Used bowls and utensils overflow in the sink. The majority of the countertops are clustered with baking ingredients: the bag of flour still open next to the cocoa powder; the egg box flipped open with two eggs missing. If Regulus were to run a finger over the surface, he’d probably find it dusted with a fine layer of flour too, as he learnt the hard way that one has to open a bag of flour slowly.

James usually keeps it spotless, and whilst he doesn’t forbid Regulus from cooking—actually he wholeheartedly encourages it, gazing dreamy-eyed as Regulus tries to focus on what he’s doing and not imagine having him for dessert instead—there’s the unspoken implication that the kitchen is James’ playground, whilst the study/library is Regulus’.

But he’ll clean it all up. He has still an hour and a half before James is due to get back home from work, which is plenty of time to figure out this icing problem, put the cake together, and for Regulus to clean up.

There’s a nervous feeling of anticipation in his stomach when he switches off the mixer, peering in at the icing. It looks good actually, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Okay, this might work.

Just then, one of their two cats, Leo, walks into the kitchen, followed by the other, Astraeus. James had named the former, a gorgeous white cat with one black spot at the base of his tail, and Regulus had named the latter, a Russian Blue with glowing yellow eyes that, when they were adopting cats, Regulus insisted he couldn’t leave behind.

“Hello, you two,” he says, picking up Astraeus and planting a kiss between the cat’s ears before setting her back down again. Leo, always craving being the centre of attention, hops up onto the counter.

Regulus is about to fuss him, too, when he hears the scrape of a key in the front door lock, indicating James is home. Panic flares in his chest, because Regulus is nowhere near done with this cake, and it’s going to spoil the surprise.

“Hi, love!” James calls out, the door closing behind him.

“Hey!” Regulus calls back, glancing around at the kitchen. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles under his breath.

At the sound of their other father’s voice, Leo scrabbles into action. In his haste, he knocks into the bag of flour, sending it flying onto the floor—

And exploding everywhere with a loud thud.

“What the hell?” James exclaims from the hallway. “Reggie? Are you okay?”

Spooked, and probably scared of the consequences of his actions, Leo flees, knocking over—it really can’t get any worse, can it?—the box of eggs as he does so. Astraeus, pinning her ears to her head, follows instantly.

And Regulus? Heart literally jumping into his mouth, he manages to catch the eggs in time, only one of them cracking in its cardboard container. Putting them safely back on the counter, he sighs and rests his forehead on the cool surface, taking a deep breath in before answering, “Yeah. I’m okay,” and then turning around to assess the damage.

The bag of flour has well and truly split everywhere, sending white fireworks all over the floor and up the sides of the cupboards. It genuinely looks like a small flurry of fine, powdery snow has blown into the kitchen, as if every single piece of flour has expelled itself from the bag.

James darts around the kitchen doorframe, concern and worry written into the lines of his face, mouth open to ask if Regulus is okay again, when he freezes at the state of the kitchen.

For a second, he doesn’t say anything. Regulus can feel his heart thundering beneath his chest, loud like a drumbeat. Fuck, he’s in so much trouble. He watches James’ eyes flick from the flour-y explosion on the floor, to the cake cooling on the side, to the unwashed pans in the sink, and then back to Regulus.

Guilt floods through him. He should’ve just gotten a store-bought cake instead. He needn’t have gone to all this trouble, all this hassle, spent all that money, wasted all this time, because now their kitchen is an absolute mess, and they’re going to have to spend James’ birthday cleaning it up.

He almost expects a reprimand when James opens his mouth again, prepares himself for it, his body tensing, eyes narrowing, bracing himself for the reprimand to come—

He does not expect James to burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, Reg,” James wheezes, pressing a hand to his mouth. “You— there’s flour all over you …”

Looking down at himself, Regulus groans to find that it’s gotten on him too, though thank God he’s wearing an apron. “Jesus.”

Still laughing, James crosses over, cupping Regulus’ face in his hands. “I’m not talking about the apron, love. It’s,” he gets out between laughs, “it’s on your face. In your hair. What— What have you been doing?”

Fighting a smile, Regulus lets James brush flour from his cheeks and get it out of his hair, and then jerks his face away. “I was trying to make you a cake for your birthday, but, uh. I guess it took a turn. Leo got excited to see you. And you’re home early.”

“They let me go early,” James explains.

“Oh,” Regulus says. And then, because he has to ask, “You’re— not mad?”

“Mad?” James echoes, confused. “Reg, this— is hilarious. I’m flattered, and so, so happy that you went to all this effort for me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“But it’s your birthday. Happy birthday,” Regulus says, as if he didn’t whisper it into James’ ear this morning. The relief that James isn’t mad at him makes his knees buckle.

“Thank you, my beloved,” James tells him, turning to the cake on the side. “Is this chocolate cake?”

Regulus nods. “Devil’s Food cake to be precise. I looked up a recipe. I don’t know if it’s any good, but …”

The smile on James’ face could light up Regulus’ night. He steps over to the icing bowl. “This the icing?” and before Regulus can reply, he dips his finger in and licks it off. Regulus’ eyes widen.

“This is good, Reg. Like, really good. You know, you could actually be a good baker.”

“You think so?”

James comes back over to his side, this time cornering Regulus against the counter, one that is, thankfully, empty. “Definitely.”

It’s a long while before they clean up the flour on the floor.

#frost's microfics #no because this is actually adorable #the cats are important characters actually #jegulus fic #jegulus microfic #regulus arcturus black #james fleamont potter #james x regulus #james potter x regulus black #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 1 year

Text

So I decided back in September that it is Time. The time has come. I am going to try and get a formal diagnosis for my blatant and provable ADHD, because I am very interested in Doing Laundry

And in my defence it has only taken until this week (late January) to kick things off, which I am very aware should probably be part of the diagnostic criteria

Anyway

I have a plan! For the best chance of being taken seriously. If the university can do their in-house screening of me, I can go to my GP and make the following two points:

I am here because my boss felt I said "But everyone does that" one too many times while discussing the ND students, and she wants me to chase this in case it means she can support me better (I of course am charmingly bemused about it because I personally would never try and get diagnosed, no no, only those attention-seeking fakers do that)

An official educational institution i.e. my employer has in fact initially assessed me and deemed me Medically Distractible. I even have an ALN plan, look. So uhhhhh, maybe my boss is right? (I of course remain charmingly bemused about it because I obviously don't really believe it, no no, I could never be the expert on my own experience, but a Third Party is invested, so...)

Anyway yesterday the uni got in touch, and had me do the initial screening.

Now, they're doing it as part of a wider screening process of learning needs, so they also check you for dyslexia, dyscalculia, dyspraxia, and autism, as well as ADHD. Plus how good your reading/writing/maths is. Plus they make you do these really fun tests - one was like a classic American spelling bee, one was a spelling test where they read out increasingly lengthy fake words and you had to spell them (we started with "blit", and by the end she was saying things like "unintarcation" and "iffrig-oggonery" and "self-regulating free market" trololol I JEST), and the other was that she'd read out a string of numbers and I had to type them backwards to test my working memory

Good fun, actually. Anyway, my results were mostly completely fine:

Study skills are good! I mean, we're going orange at the end, look, time management is bad - but that's the ADHD, so expected.

No problems with the tests! I mean I'm slightly grumpy about the social and communication score going blue, because I'm pretty sure it's because I explained how I was bullied in school, which I feel is more about them than me. But eh.

Dyspraxia was a little less solid- that's the time blindness, I think. Also attention and concentration, that's expected. Maths, lol - that's not medical, I'm just bad at maths.

The autism testing. Again, mostly fine, but some overlap with ADHD symptoms, so blue instead of green. Makes sense.

And then

Fucking rinsed.

#tedious personal details #neurodivergence

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popquizhot-shot · 8 months

Text

Chapter One- Partnership Deed.

Summary: the very beginning. how he came to be in the same house as you.

Author's notes: it's a small chapter, i'm sorry but more to come!

Fic playlist

Chapter One|Chapter Two|Masterlist

No one tells you about how horrible this feeling is. This aloneness that consumes you. That empty that comes after everyone has left and you’re sitting there in the living room all alone. A hurried dinner you’re too tired to eat left on the table.

*Ring*

You’re jolted out of your depressive pity party at the sound of your phone ringing. Muting David Attenborough’s soothing voice and looking at your phone.

Unknown Number.

You pick it up and put it on speaker, sitting up straight, “Hello?”

The man who responds asks if you’re the one who put that advertisement for a roommate. You say yes, and he asks if he can come by to check the apartment out and you nod to no one, replying that yes, of course can, whenever he’s free.

“You mind if I come by now? I’m returning from the campus library actually.”

Because the only calls you’ve gotten till now were sleazy asshole who weren’t students, you’re surprised that guy is actually in your university.

“....Hello?”

“Yeah! Sorry!” you know you should say no, it’s nine in the night, you have work to do, a chapter to write, a business model to research, you should tell him to boot and that yes, you did mind if he came now, “Sure, you can stop by, I’ve got nothing to do. Can I get your name though, wouldn’t want a total stranger to enter my house, y’know.” you awkwardly chuckle and introduce yourself.

“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara.”

It’s a miracle you don’t drop the phone.

After what you can only describe as a painfully awkward goodbye, you rush to clean your apartment. Cursing the post-it’s scattered all around the house. They’re plot ideas, written in blue, purple, pink, all over the kitchen. The stray black ink used for definitions for costs and tendency curves and fuck if you remember what they mean and another fuck because this is Miguel O’Hara. The lead guitarist of that one band that always plays during uni fests. The tall fucking literal bull of a guy who captures everyone attention without meaning to. You both haven’t ever spoken to each other, never crossed paths because he’s a STEM student and though technically business is considered STEM for..whatever reason, it’s not the same and it’s in a different building. But you know who he is. You’ve seen him from a distance, your friends teasing you for looking at someone like a blushing little girl, but you’re playing safe.

You’ve just managed to make the place presentable when the intercom buzzes. In your haste to reach it, your toe catches on one of the dining chairs and you resist the urge to just say screw this and curl up in a ball and cry, instead hobbling over to the machine, cursing under your breath as you press the button, “Come on in!” you muster the cheeriest voice you can imagine. Granting him access into the building and immediately letting out a not so cheery expletive once your finger leaves the contraption. If this is all for naught you swear you’ll stay single till college is over, you can just live in fantasy, because god this guy is an idiot who thinks he can come up whenever he thinks he can. He’s probably one of those asshole dudes who thinks they’re better than everyone else.

But your dumbass is to blame. Your stupid constant to please people gee thanks for that mom

You rush to open the door as soon as you hear the knock, bracing yourself for an arrogant dude smirking at you-

Yes, that is Miguel O’Hara at your doorstep, but he’s shyly? Scratching the back of his neck, looking almost apologetic.

“I am so sorry for just barging in this late.” is the first thing he says,wincing as your eyebrows raise, “it’s just-

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. It’s alright.” you smile and open the door wider, inviting him in.

Jesus, what was in the water he drank as a child? He towers over you as he steps in. You look up to his face as he scans the living room, almost smiling at the organized chaos around the house.

“Uh, over here is the bedroom you’ll be taking, if you’re moving in that is.” you walk past him, sleeve brushing his, pointing to the open bedroom he walks into, nodding approvingly. It’s decent for the money he’d pay as rent, there’s actually no reason for him to refuse. He can stay here-

“It’s a beautiful place.” he finally looks down at you, “Yeah, I think, if there’s no one else at the moment, I’ll be happy to accomodate the room.”

And that’s the story of how Miguel O’Hara became your roommate.

You wish you could say you lived happily ever after.

“Miguel!” you bang on his door, “Wash the fucking dishes, today’s your turn!”

You get a hum in return, and you know the dishes will get done really late or he’ll probably fall asleep at his desk. You wish you could ignore it, you really do. But again, thank the instilled doctrine that if you’re lazy to do anything you’re pathetic and don’t deserve to breathe air. With a swear on your breath, you storm to the kitchen, making sure to bang the dinner dishes as loud as you can. It’s been a week since he moved in. A week.

He had helped with dinner. Vegetable Gravy with turmeric and chillies and roti’s. Guy liked trying different cuisines and your penchant for cooking came in handy. One thing your mother taught you that helped. And he said he’d wash, that you worked too hard and he didn’t like seeing you all stressed out like a little mouse.

“You’re like a little mouse, always moving here and there.” He chuckles, his fingers wiggling to mimic a scampering rodent and sticks it in front of your face.

You slap it away, “Oye, watch the gravy.” you point at the curry with your rolling pin.

He dips a finger and brings it to his mouth to taste, looking at you as he licks it.

“Hmm, muy delicioso .”

“Thanks.”

In a partnership, to specify the deals of the relationship, a partnership deed is drawn up for specifics. Percentage of profit, ratio of distribution, shit like that. Roles for each partner. That’s precisely what this asshole needs, a real live list for him to see. You wonder if he needs sock puppets and Cheerios as well.

It takes ten minutes to draw up a good contract, with clear rules laid out for the both of you, he’ll probably come out in a few minutes.

—----

You wake up in a start, the lights are off, and there’s a blanket on top of you. The tv that was switched on was now switched off.

That ass had finally come out, and he’d covered your sleeping form and switched the TV off. The metal glint of a pen catches your attention. Blinking, you scramble for the deed, looking over it, and on the bottom, right where you’d written out his name was his signature. And a little drawing of a flower with a sad face saying sorry in bubble speech.

Idiot. You smile, clicking the pen and signing above your name.

He better make breakfast tomorrow.

#miguel o' hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #atsv #atsv miguel

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kassymalone · 3 months

Text

A Little Rant about Fun

Remember fun?

Remember when you could do things just because they were fun?

It keeps coming to mind recently, and it's starting to drive me nuts.

I've always done things with my hands - I used to do art before uni destroyed my love and confidence, I write things, I cross stitch, I make models, and I do these things because I enjoy them. Unfortunately I've come to hate talking to people about my hobbies because the almost always have the same response - 'what do you do with that?'

Do I sell on Etsy? No I fucking don't, this pattern took me 15 hours to finish, do you know how much I would have to charge for it?

Do I do freelance writing? No I fucking don't, why would I want a second soul-crushing job on top of my first soul-crushing job?

Why don't I actually get published instead of wasting my time with fanfiction so I can actually make some money off it? WHY DON'T YOU DO IT IF ITS SO FUCKING EASY

I've been thinking of making a quilt recently, with patches of all my favourite things, but I don't want to talk to anyone about it because I can already hear them asking 'and what are you going to do with it? Is this your practice one before you sell them? No, don't do it that way, that's the wrong way, no-one will like it!'

(Don't get me started on the 'you're doing it wrong' crowd, gatekeepers are a different rant.)

JUST LET ME DO THINGS. NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS TO MAKE MONEY. I know we're in a cost of living crisis right now, but I've been hearing this shit since I was a teenager, twenty fucking years ago! I still remember being talked out of singing lessons when I had a little extra money because 'what would I do with it?' Well fuck, my fat ass was never going to be the next Adele, but maybe I could have just had fun doing something I enjoy, but better?!

ON A RELATED NOTE!

You know what disproportionately annoys me? When people call the Nintendo Switch a 'toy' as if it's a bad thing. Like... yes? It's a toy? I play games on it?

'But the frame rate!', 'But the graphics!', 'But it can't run XX game!' WHO FUCKING CARES.

Yes, the xbox and playstation can connect to netflix and play blue rays and cook you dinner and raise your children, but they also cost a months rent and have all these bells and whistles to distract you from the fact that they JUST FUCKING TOYS. There's nothing either of them can do that I can't do on my PC, better and cheaper, and not have to turn on five different peripherals to make it work.

'But 4K!', 'But you can see the character follicles in this new game!', 'But the horses testicles react to the weather!'

Are you not having fun? Are you not enjoying playing your game? Never once have I been in the middle of a game and thought 'I'd be enjoying this more if it had more pixels.' I'm not even against other consoles, use whatever you prefer - if you like modern real-to life graphics then more power to you, but the amount of people who act like it actually matters somehow is concerning...

Yes, the switch hardware is behind what the xbox and playstation can do... but its a toy. Nintendo has never forgotten that it makes toys, and that's why I like it. It sits on my table, connects to my other monitor. I listen to long form youtube videos while I play TOTK. If I'm feeling sassy, I play it handheld.

My niece has one. We play Pokémon together and I let her win battles because the point is to be fun.

WHICH BRINGS ME BACK TO MY POINT!

FUCK the grindset 'but how can I monetise every possible second?' bullshit, FUCK the 'taking this thing that should be fun way too seriously' bullshit.

LET PEOPLE DO THINGS JUST BECUASE THEY'RE FUN.

LET THINGS THAT ARE SUPPOSED TO BE FUN BE FUN.

And now I've used the word 'fun' so much it's lost all meaning.

Much like fun itself.

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salbei-141 · 1 year

Text

Rescue Mission (Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Reader)

Masterlist

word count: 6.1k...i can't write a 3k essay but I can do this

warnings: 18+ mild smut, fluff, a lot of violence, self-doubt, graphic stuff etc. (forgive me if I've forgotten anything)

a/n: Wow am I entering my writing era again? I haven't written any sort of fanfic since I was like in my early teens, and I'm sure you can imagine how bad it was then, so I'd like to think this is better, but that's up to y'all to dictate. I do hope you all enjoy it, and as much as I desperately wanted to write for Ghost (which maybe I will in the future) I wanted to do something for Soap, he deserves love too, and there's not enough.

I don't know if I'll make this a part 2, if enough of you want it then I'll see what I can do - I also don't know how much more I'll write - knowing me it'll be like once in a blue moon lol

Anyway, I've spent my time writing this instead of completing uni work, which I desperately need to finish, but anything to procrastinate. I'd really appreciate any and all feedback, so please let me know if I can improve and if y'all wanna see anything specific in the future.

(I've gone over and edited it, so hopefully there's no mistakes)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With an intruding knock on your door followed by Ghost’s command of “Smoke get your ass up, Price wants you in his office in 10.” You were left to get ready in a rush with no negotiations.

Walking into the bathroom all you can focus on is the redness around your eyes followed by some bags to bring the look together, and the faded scar under your left eye as a reminder of past fights. You find yourself rarely getting any sleep these days - between random calls for missions and the ongoing night terrors, there’s little to no time for rest. You tend to wonder how much longer your body will be able to handle before it gives into exhaustion and you hit the ground - probably with Ghost at your heels telling you to get the fuck up before he drags you up himself. It really wouldn’t be a surprise if he did that to you, you thought to yourself with a small smirk gracing your face.

With several minutes to spare you throw some water on your face, flinching at the temperature - not quite awake enough to readily process things - patting your face dry and smoking your eyes out with some black paint you're closer to being ready to leave. You find yourself thinking back on a memory where Lt argued you had stolen his look of the blacked-out eyes and anonymity, but you begged to differ, plus you teased you looked better than the big man anyway, which had made him quietly huff.

Finishing up in the bathroom you slipped the plain black balaclava over your head, weary of the healing cut that laid as a reminder of the last mission on your cheek. In some fresh undergarments and black uniform you find yourself robotically walking out the room and down the hall to Price - there’s little thought in your actions anymore, everything’s just an automatic response, and there’s no need to think.

With a deep breath, you knock on the door, “Captain.”

“Come in Smoke.” Price said with a gruffness to his tone - he's not quite a morning person himself despite how long he'd been in the military.

Walking into the room, there’s a thick layer of tension that feels suffocating - your not sure what he’s going to ask of you, but you're on edge, he looks nervous, and Price is never unnecessarily nervous.

“Please sit Smoke.” And he averted his gaze on your eyes to look back down at his desk - it was definitely nerves, he didn't quite have Ghost's staring issues, but he always stared you down when you were walking into the office.

“Yes, Captain.” Without much else to say, you took your place on the dingy chair in front of his desk.

“Did Ghost tell you anything?” He made eye contact then, not averting it like before.

“…no, he didn’t. Just said to meet you in 10.” You felt your brows furrowing slightly at his question - should Ghost have said anything? You would've liked a pre-warning from the guy seeing Price's nerves shining through.

“Well, we’ve got a mission come up for you. It’s solo.” He states staring directly into your eyes, he knew you weren't going to be okay with this arrangement, so why the fuck had he decided on this.

“And you can’t have Ghost complete it?” There was a growing edge of anger to your tone, you didn’t want this, and you were getting progressively defensive.

“He’s aiding Laswell in a separate mission. You can’t hide forever y/n - it’s been a year now, and you’ve had more than enough time only participating in group missions…I wouldn’t make you do this if I doubted you.” There was sincerity in his tone, but you didn't want to believe him, you refused to.

“You didn’t doubt me a year ago and look how that went down, almost got the whole team's data exposed and ended up near enough getting Johnny killed while his ass was dumb enough to accept a rescue mission to save me.” Your hands were starting to shake underneath the table, and you could feel your heart rate starting to beat faster at the memories of Johnny coming to save you. “Look Price I’m not the fucking one, you got enough men on this base better than me and-“

“It’s MacTavish Smoke, and no I don't", you felt your stomach drop and the thoughts started running wild through your head. "Soap lost contact with us 2 days ago and we’ve received intel that a new terrorist organisation in the Middle East have taken him hostage. I’m not going to tell you again Sergeant - your mission is to save Seargent MacTavish and you’ll do it without fail. Do you understand?” He was giving no room for you to back out of this, there was no way to. You couldn't leave Johnny, but you also didn't feel capable after screwing up your last solo mission.

The tension had snapped after his confession, but was replaced with trepidation - it was all up in the air now, but you still felt like you were suffocating. Johnny was supposed to be on an in-and-out mission, nothing too difficult - he was supposed to be done tomorrow, what the fuck had happened?

Swallowing, you asked for the necessary intel, and Price started to brief you on the mission. You were to head to Yemen, following coordinates that Price would send to you once you were in the country. From here you were alone - it was a high-risk operation and they didn't want to risk losing more soldiers than was needed - Price knew you were capable of completing this alone, even if you didn't.

~~~Time skip~~~

Now in the heli you were about an hour away from the house Soap was situated in - you had, had time on the aeroplane to figure out a basic plan and between the anxiety of what Soap was currently enduring and the desperation to succeed you knew what you were going to do.

Price's intel suggsted there were about 50 men minimum around this base at all times - but tonight there was some sort of event, and there were going to be about half that, which made things easier, but you knew it meant they'd be on higher alert; especially when they have a member of the 141. About 5 men would be at the entrance to this home give or take; another few men would be around the back of the house; give or take there would about 6 men patrolling the ground and first floors; then that left probably 3 men with Johnny and some stragglers patrolling the ground of the place, but there was no guarantee this was even close to the layout in reality. What you did know though was that there was a blind spot around the east side of the house where there was a small hatch to the basement of the place - this was your only safe way in and depending on how things went, it'd also be your safe way out.

"Seargent y/l/n, we're here, you ready?" you heard a static voice come through the headset from the pilot.

"As ready as one could be I guess.", you all but muttered into the mic.

And with a count down you were sliding down the rope and landed heavily onto the ground - it was dry land, which meant it'd be easier to cover tracks if necessary, but it also meant there were fewer ways in which you could hide yourself and Soap wouldn't be in the best of conditions for this, assuming he was alive.

Hiking to the house, you were half expecting someone to take you down on the spot with every step you took, but with each step, you got closer to where you had to be, but you still couldn't allow yourself to take a relaxed breath of air.

After about a 40-minute walk, you found yourself on the edge of the compound if you could call it that. You were in the middle of nowhere and already knew you needed to do this quietly - running away was going to be difficult with the sheer amount of open land, but there were a few valleys into the back of the compound, which you were sure you'd be able to escape and camp up in, assuming there were caves within them.

You noticed there were a group of men at the front - maybe about 11..something wasn't right, but you had no clue what was going on yet. There were 2 guys covering the back of the place and no one on the east side - at least it was a blind spot for sure. Without another thought, you went from your prone position to stalking toward the hatch, which would hopefully lead to Soap.

Putting an ear to the small hatch, you listened for what was beneath, and so far there was only silence - hopefully, it stayed that way. With that, you lifted the hatch carefully, making little noise, and peered in, seeing steps leading down - it was dark though - had they been depriving Soap of all his senses hoping he'd go mad enough to confess or something?

Without little insight into what was beneath you, you had no real way to plan how you'd go about this, but what you did know was there were more men outside than you'd planned for, which gave you a little less anxiety. Creeping down the stairs, you turned your night vision on and took a moment to look around. Where the fuck was Johhny? All you could see were damp cobble walls and dirt. Walking to the bottom of the stairs you pulled a suppressed pistol out and a knife and stalked the room looking for another door.

Suddenly a door above you opened - there was another set of stairs and light seeped through before it closed again, welcoming the darkness once again. With the night vision still active you could see one of the men walking down the stairs with what looked like an AK-47 - that made it a lot easier for you to take him out from behind, it would take too long for him to adjust and fire. Watching him reach the bottom of the stairs, you stalked closer to his figure and just before he could flip the switch on the wall, you pulled your knife and plunged it into his neck, covering his mouth and slowly lowering his writhing body to the floor - making sure to make as little noise possible.

Moving the guys body to an empty corner of the room you remained silent and listened for anything else above - no sound. You assumed he was to take watch of Soap - hoping he was behind a door you noticed was under the stairs this guy had come down. There was again no light seeping underneath; either he was elsewhere or they were indeed depriving him of his sense, but you had no idea if there were any men in there. Putting your ear to the door all you could make out were some shallow breaths - it had to Johnny.

Pushing the door forward, you cringed hearing it squeak on his hinges. If someone was in here, then they knew you were too, and with no precautionary thoughts, you walked into the room, scanning it with your gun aimed and knife up.

There he was. You felt tears prick at your eyes, his body had stiffened and his breathing had picked up - Johnny wasn't ever usually this scared, what had they done to him?

Turning to your left you flipped a switch and closed the door behind you, putting a chair underneath in case anyone tried to walk in before you could prepare.

Walking to Johnny you placed a gentle hand pulling up the cloth bag they'd placed over his head - the small flinch hadn't gone unnoticed by your gaze. Letting him adjust to the light, you placed a gentle hand on his jaw, examining the cuts littering his face - you doubt they'd scar, but you were guessing the real pain was done to his body - you could see the crimson that was dried to his clothes - he looked like a mess, you had to get the both of you out of here and straight to a medic, you couldn't bare this for much more.

Of all the years you'd known Johnny, you'd always denied how you felt about him - he was a friend, a coworker, and there was a fine line you refused to cross, you didn't want to lose him nor your team. But seeing him like this, seeing him so broken - noticing his pained stare holding onto your eyes, you knew you couldn't deny what you felt anymore. There was no way you could deny that the pain in your chest wasn't due to the man you refused to accept your feelings for.

"Smoke? That you?" Soap all but managed to mumble out - his eye was bruised up and there was some mild swelling - nothing that concerned you too much, but you could imagine he was having a hard time properly focusing on you.

"Yeah, it's me Johnny. You're alright now, yeah." you said it more to convince yourself than him, but you had to start making moves, as much as you wanted to hold him in your arms and soothe whatever was going through his head, you had to get him out of here before they sent more of them down here, you knew you were counting down mere minutes before they would come.

"Johnny I'm going to cut you out and give you a stim, then we're going - we'll find somewhere to hold up for a bit then I'll call for evac." you were rushed in your movements, still careful with him to not hurt him any more than what he was.

With his hands now free, he brought them to his sides and tried to loosen his arms up a bit from where they had been stiff behind his back. Coming to his front, you gave him a stim and he became more aware of what was happening.

Standing tall, you held his sides, noticing his lack of balance. He sucked a breath in when he felt your hands come up on his sides - you were so gentle, he'd only felt calloused hands pressing into his body over the course of the past few days, and it felt comforting to have you holding him with such care.

With one last look up into his eyes, you told him to follow behind - just to trust you. He never doubted you for a second, the moment he'd known it was you who was sent to rescue him, he knew you'd get the both of them to safety - he admired your skill on the field, even if you didn't possess the same ability to believe you could succeed this.

Moving the chair from the door you flipped the switch, feeling one of Soap's hands come up to your shoulder - he didn't want to admit it to himself, but he knew this was going to take a toll on his mental state.

Opening the door, you took a deep breath and moved forward with Soap at your heel. Crouching back in front of the guy you'd taken out, you took his gun, and gave it to Soap behind you, which he gladly took - feeling more confident now he could aid you.

Heading up the stairs to the hatch, you both suddenly went stiff hearing the door open. Without much thought to pushed Soap further up the stairs whispering for him to leave and run into a valley - you'd be right behind him. His eyes remained on yours - he looked worried, he didn't want to leave you - he'd never forgive himself if you were hurt because he ran. With another push, he lifted the hatch - he trusted you, he had too.

Aiming the pistol you hit the first guy directly in the head, knocking him cold. He fell to the floor with a thud and before you could get a solid aim on the second guy, he shouted something in Arabic and suddenly you could hear chaos starting to ensue upstairs - all you could think was how the fuck you were going to do this now. Shooting the guy in the leg, he fell to the floor with a pained scream and you rushed out the hatch hearing several men shouting at each other. You could see Soap at an edge of a valley - it wasn't a far run, you could make this you were sure.

Without a second thought, you took off for the valley edge where you could see Soap prone aiming his gun. Suddenly bullets started to litter the ground around you and Soap could only do so much to fire back before they'd eventually get him to. Pulling the infamous smoke grenades from your belt you pulled the pin in one throwing it behind you and another one you threw in Soaps direction. With bullets still firing at nothing, you pushed your legs as fast as they'd go, and just as you got to where Soap was now stood, you felt a searing pain travel up your left arm.

"Fuck! Soap I've been hit" you gritted between clenched teeth, "carry on running, we need to find somewhere to bunker down for the next few hours while tensions calm".

Nodding his head in your direction, Soap continued forth with you in tow - you could both hear the men shouting from behind - they were gaining, but you were still ahead enough to hide. Feeling a hand grip your right arm, you were pulled into Soap's side in a crack big enough for the two of you. You could feel the beating of his heart and for a minute you felt yourself relax and just as you did the adrenaline started to wear off, and your arm was throbbing in pain.

Looking over Soap, he seemed to be okay - the stim hadn't worn off yet, and you still had another one for when it did.

Leaning his head down, you felt your heart pause - you felt yourself staring at his lips, wondering how they would feel pressed against your own, thinking that it'd be enough to distract you from the current pain you felt. You felt your hands running up his torso to lay on his chest, feeling his heart beat even faster if that was possible. He was warm despite the nipping breeze. Preparing to move your hand to his neck, Soap bent closer to your ear whispering for you to follow him. You felt stupid - of course, he wasn't about to kiss you in the middle of a mission, let alone ever - you had selfishly been misinterpreting his body's response as something else - he was hurt and tensions were high - you were stupid to think it had been anything to do with you. With that you dropped your arms back to your sides, flinching as you lower your right arm, and followed Soap deeper into this crack, seeing it led into a small cave - it was still cramped, but you'd live.

As you were about to open your mouth to speak, Soap placed his hand over it - silencing you from making any sound, clenching your thighs, you found yourself keening into his touch before coming back to your sense when you heard footsteps and Arabic being shared between people. Suddenly things got very real again and you felt Soap's over arm come across your waist and pull you into him - the both of you needed some sort of comfort right now, and the both of you relished in each other's warmth.

With quiet shallow breaths, the men passed by and you relaxed against Soap's chest. You felt safe with him behind you, you had been so anxious completing this mission that you felt back in your comfort zone being with Soap.

"Think we're okay now hen?" That stupid pet name he used had you smiling underneath the mask, you secretly loved how he only said it to you, but would always pretend it bothered you, which only made him tease you more.

With a staggered breath you turned to face him - you didn't realise how close you were, your noses almost touching but you didn't make the effort to move. "I think we're okay Johnny, for now at least, we'll wait a couple hours then I call for evac".

"How're you feeling?" you asked tentatively placing a hand under his cheek where there was a cut, careful not to press too hard - you never wanted to cause him pain.

Feeling bolder than usual, Soap placed a hand over yours that held his cheek - you felt your heart rate pick up, feeling his calloused skin run over your gloved hand and onto your wrist where your skin was exposed. He could feel the fast pulse within your wrist and wanted to ignore the dull ache in his body, noticing that the stim was starting to wear off. He stared into your open eyes, looking at him so full of admiration, and all he wanted to do was press his lips to yours in a searing kiss - so selfishly he wanted to distract himself with you. He'd seen you with your mask off once and the image was burned into his mind - he spent countless nights led in bed remembering how full your lips looked; how smooth your skin was - with a faded scar beneath your left eye; the way your hair perfectly parted down the middle with bangs that perfectly framed your face, and hair stopping at your shoulders; with a jaw so perfectly carved he wanted nothing more than to bury his face in the crook of your neck and place gentle kisses upon your jaw, trailing down to your neck - you were perfection to him, pure perfection and all those nights he'd relish in that memory thinking about your beauty, or fisting his hard cock - precum dripping from his tip as he imagined those full lips taking him in while he praised you from above as your doe eyes stayed locked on his.

Taking a sudden breath in as you felt the pain back in your arm, Soap was pulled from his thoughts with worry plastered over his face, "Oh yeah, I'm okay hen, the pain's starting to come back, but let's get you fixed up."

Even though he'd been through a torturous hell the last few days, your wellbeing was somehow on the forefront of his mind, it made your heart flutter unexpectantly. You couldn't allow him to sort you out first, you'd live, you'd been through much worse, but right now his wounds needed cleaning.

"No Soap, I need to clean your wounds before an infection starts to fester. Then we can attend to whatever I've got, but I'll live." He gave you a narrowed look, but the look you sent back made him remain silenced, you weren't going to let him help you.

Without much more talking you pulled your first aid kit from your back and asked him to remove his shirt. With a smirk he all but obliged and you rolled your eyes - Soap was still Soap. You noticed him struggling and helped him pull his gear over his head, placing it down next to him.

Staring at his body, all you wanted to do was admire him - despite all the marks that littered his torso, you thought he was the most beautiful man you had laid your eyes on. You saw his body stiffen and noticed the look of insecurity in his eyes, making you your face fall in sorrow - you didn't want him to feel like this, he didn't deserve to. Tracing his abs and some scars, you asked where it hurt most and he just let out a chuckle, "Everywhere hen, I couldn't tell you where to start".

Pulling the remaining stim out, you gave it to him and it again started to rapidly kick in. You took some disinfectant on a cloth and started to clean his wounds as he hissed in pain, letting small whimpers slip past his lips - you were doing everything not to clench your thighs right now, he was in pain, but the sounds coming from him were making you delirious - you'd be mad if you were to never make a move on this man - you'd dreamed of pulling those sounds from his mouth.

Feeling his hand grip your arm, you were pulled back to reality and continued cleaning him, whispering your apologies each time he'd grip your arm a bit tighter when it'd get too much for him to deal with. You wanted to press your lips to each wound and hope it'd cure his pain, you could see they had done a number on him, but luckily none of the wounds were too deep. You felt his ribs, seeing his skin was patched in a mix of purple and blue bruises - you could count 2 of them were broke, but a medic would have to confirm this. Placing gauze on his wound, you then wrapped his middle and placed your hand back on his chest - staring into his eyes.

"That any better Johnny?" you asked doe eyed, worry on your face that you hadn't done a good enough job.

"I dunno hen maybe a kiss would make me feel better." You felt yourself blush, you couldn't believe he was flirting with you out here, but maybe you actually had read the signs correctly earlier, maybe you weren't so stupid. Leaning down you pressed a lingering kiss to his head through the mask.

"Better now Johnny?" you asked, a smile forming on your face.

"A bit hen, just a bit" There was a pout on his face, you knew he wanted more, but you were on a mission and didn't want to risk your chances compromising it - you needed him to make it to the evac.

With a last stroke of his chest, you pulled back and helped him dress into his gear again. Turning away from the man you took a deep breath, you needed to get your head completely back into this misson.

"y/n?" you hummed back in response to him, "let me help you fix your arm up yeah?" You'd forgotten about the dull ache in your left arm and turned back to him with your medkit in hand.

In silence he gently took your arm into his own hands, you were only skimmed by the bullet luckily. He wet a new cloth in disinfectant and wiped over your wound, weary of your flinches, feeling guilty about the pain you were in. Wrapping your arm he ran his own hand up your arm placing it on the back of your neck, giving you reassuring strokes as you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch.

"You know I'm glad it's you that came Smoke" he admitted.

"Yeah?" you questioned back.

"Yeah." he confirmed staring sincerely into your eyes.

"You know I didn't originally want to come here Johnny. Price didn't give me much choice, to begin with, but when I found out it was you, I couldn't say no." you were building up a confession to him, hoping he'd read between the lines - you didn't want to admit to him directly how you felt, just in case you were wrong, you were full of doubt, suddenly becoming self-conscious under his gaze, "I was scared I was going to fuck it up like I fucked my last solo mission. I've been so scared I was going to get you killed this time, I still haven't forgiven myself for the rescue mission, you shouldn't have been the one to fix my failure Johnny, and this time I..." you felt yourself choking up, you didn't realise how deeply you really felt about things and found yourself pulling away, embarrassed at your confession.

Johnny could see how genuine you were being and it made his heart clench that you felt this way - he had been the first one to volunteer to go on the rescue mission - it was supposed to be Ghost's mission, but he convinced Price to let him go on it. He knows how scary of a day it was and how close to death you both were, but he'd do it again if it meant you were the last person he was with.

Pulling you back into him before you could pull yourself away too far, he brought your head to his chest carefully, making sure you weren't putting too much pressure on his torso. You were holding back your tears, you didn't want to break in front of him, but it was hard, a few escaped as his hand came up to cup the back of your head and stroke your hair gently. Without another word, Soap placed both hands on your masked cheeks and pulled you eye level to him, wiping the few tears that fell from your eyes with his thumbs. He didn't want to cross a line, and placed a tentative peck on your masked lips, watching as your eyes flutter closed. You couldn't believe it, without another thought you pulled your mask up, revealing your lips and nose, not feeling secure enough to completely remove it. Taking his chances, Soap placed his lips back onto your own, relishing in the feeling of the both of your lips moving in sync with each other. You felt in over your own head, keening into his body as the speed picked up between the both of you - small breaths getting caught between each other's lips. Soap moved his hand down to your neck, caressing the skin as he passed, and rested on your right breast, caressing it through your uniform. As his palming got needier, you let out a small moan, urging him to move from your lips to your jaw, placing gentle kisses before he nipped at your neck, being sure to leave small marks behind - he was marking you, and you had no issue with it, you'd let him mark your whole body in small love bites if he wanted to. With the both of your breaths picking up, and each other's hands getting needier for one another as a wetness started to pool between your thighs, making you clench them together - not going unnoticed by Soap who gave a deep chuckle at your desperation - a sudden dull shrill was sounded, echoing in the cave.

"Oh come on hen, do we really need evac yet?" you chuckled, pulling you mask back down and gave him a stern look.

"I'm sorry, but I think it's in both of our interests to call for evac - we both need medical attention; you more so, and we can always carry this on back at base hm" You stroked his pouting face, noticing the hardness in his jeans - you felt bad, but you knew you couldn't give into your own desires.

With one last huff from Soap, and a laugh from you, you called evac, and found they were about 40 minutes out. You'd probably been hold up in the small cave for a couple of hours and were sure it'd be safe to continue down the valley.

Pulling yourself up, and helping Soap to his feet, he gave you one last peck on your head, before you took lead, making sure it was safe to walk down the valley before pulling Soap alongside you.

In a comfortable silence, the both of you spent the next 30 minutes walking to the evac location, with no issue, apart from Soap almost tripping on a rock, which had you holding your laughter as he glared from your side.

The evac was close by - you could hear it. Soap pulled you from your thoughts staring into your eyes, "when we get back, we're not going to just forget this right?" you saw the vulnerability in his eyes and it made your heart ache.

"Johnny...no I- I would never do that to you, god no. I didn't go through all of this just to pull your leg and get back to base and ignore you like nothing had happened. I love you Johnny. I love you. I really do and I'm sorry it took me this long, I really am, I've been in denial for so long, just scared, but I'm ready and -"

"I love you too y/n, so fucking much" you could see his eyes well up at your confession, "I'm sorry it took me this long too, I think about that rescue mission a year ago all too much and find myself regretting every passing second where I didn't admit how much I cared about you, and while I was down there getting beat, all I could think about was how I potentially wasn't going to see you again."

You placed a hand on his cheek, bringing your heads together gently, "Johnny, I'd never let you die, never. I'd risk it all for you. We'll head back to base, get cleaned up, then we'll discuss things more okay? But I'm not letting you go - not now, not ever" and with that he placed a final kiss to your head just as the evac came into view.

Holding onto Soap, you helped him onto the evac as it landed - you knew he was perfectly capable, but you wanted to be close to him - it was an excuse.

~~~Time skip~~~

Back in England, you were both at the base - you having been treated by the medic quickly, and Soap having to stay for probably the next few days.

The nurse had relayed Price wanted you in his office for a debrief - you wanted to check in with Soap desperately but knew he was in safe hands, so you made your way to Price.

With a knock on the door you walked in without waiting for a response - you were so exhausted you didn't think.

"Yes, Seargent y/l/n, please come in, don't wait for me," Price said with a sarcastic tone to his voice. You laughed and gave a small apology to which Price gave a small smile to you in return.

"I told you, you'd do it" That bastard you thought, he was wearing a cocky smile on his face, and giving you a sympathetic stare at the same time. "Smoke, I put you on the mission for a reason - we've all seen the way you look at Johnny, we knew you'd get him out alive." They knew this whole time how you felt, were you really that obvious.

All you could do was respond with a quiet "oh" embarrassed at the fact the whole task force was able to read to you so clearly and had done for so long.

"Smoke. Work relations bring a lot of issues," you tried to interrupt, you didn't want to lose your only chance of happiness and contentment, but Price silenced you before you could get anything out, "hold on Smoke. While typically it can cause issues, I've pulled some strings for you and Soap, and you can both remain on the task force, while having relations if that's what you both want - you just need to keep your love lives separate from your work lives when your out on the field, okay?"

You instantly agreed, of course you and Soap could do that - neither of you would ever want to jeopardise your jobs, so you shook on the agreement to not let each other interfere with your jobs - you could be coworkers and lovers. With a goodbye, Price excused you and you were back at Soap's side who was sleeping peacefully - you knew he needed it after everything he'd been put through.

Sitting in the chair placed next to his bed, you took a hold of his hand, kissing the top of it before you too fell victim to exhaustion, closing your eyes, holding the hand of the man you loved.

#soap x reader #cod x reader #modern warfare 2 #smut #john soap mactavish #price mw2 #captain price #simon ghost riley #fluff #x reader #task force 141 #x female reader #johnny soap mactavish #fem reader #love confession #modern warfare 2 x reader #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish

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not-poignant · 1 month

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Hi Pia

Your previous post regarding burnout really resonates with me as I'm currently struggling through a mountain's worth of uni assignments.

I hopeyou're being compassionate to yourself where you can. I know you rely on your writing for income but ould cutting down to working on only 2 or 3 fics instead be a viable solution?

Because longterm I don't think that even your insanely impressive skills can hold up to that kind of pressure.

Maybe if you cut back a little you'll be able to enjoy your hobbies again and rest a little more.

I know that I'm not the only reader that wants you to take care of yourself x

Hi anon,

Firstly, good luck with all those assignments! I do not miss the grind of uni when all the assignments suddenly seem due at the same time and it's like 'oh fuck' and it just...is truly exhausting. Remember to take a break after if you can!

I am trying to be compassionate where I can. Working on expanding my capacity / juice left in the tank is actually a big priority with both therapists this year, and it's something I'm actively chipping away at.

Unfortunately cutting down fics is not really something I can do because it would personally stress me out more to put a lot of things on hiatus like that. Underline the Red is already on hiatus, and The Nascent Diplomat on my end is finished, and I'll take a few months off after that before starting the next installment.

Ideally I will be finishing out some fics that will clear my calendar a bit more over time. For example, A Stain that Won't Dissolve won't last forever, and isn't going to be replaced by anything new (Palmarosa will likely slot into that space and I'll be able to work on it more). Underline the Black will be replaced by Underline the Red, and Blue and Gold will be replaced by Underline the Silver.

Eventually, ideally, I'll be working on a smaller and smaller load until I'm at about 2-4 projects (which is how I used to work). Also quite a few of my projects only update once a month or every few months, and that helps a lot. It's just that I have too many fics where I'm on a more regular schedule (Stain, Palm, Black) and normally I only have one or two fics that are on a more regular schedule, so yeah, I am looking forward to that slowing down!

But putting something on hiatus just makes me feel more burdened and overwhelmed than knowing I'm getting closer and closer to wrapping something up. It's just how my brain works! I am a finisher, and while that's really good for not abandoning projects (which is extremely rare for me and tends to only be very short projects or PWPs which I will turn away from), it's less good when I have too many projects lmao. I've gotten better at holding back (there's three fics I'm dying to write right now, which is an Efnisien/Kadek fic that I've already started but not posted anything of, Silver, and Red).

So yeah, I will be cutting back. I've already started. The Nascent Diplomat is no longer on my schedule, which means for the next 3 months while it's still posting, I don't have to write anything for it. That's lovely because I can still share in that world with no extra labour (it's edited and everything). Likewise, Stain and Black are both in their last act/s now. That's still a lot of chapters for both, but it feels good for me to know that both will likely be finished out this year.

But we are getting there! So yeah the view is to cut down on projects, but organically (by finishing out stories and not replacing every single one with new titles, only some of them) rather than forcefully via hiatuses. I mean obviously if I get too sick I will have to go on hiatus and I've done that before, but so far it's looking like I've written enough chapters ahead (most of May is written) that I can take about 2 weeks off from writing in April, and that will help a great deal as well. :)

Anyway, take care with your assignments too! I do not miss that part of uni at all

#asks and answers #personal #pia on writing #i have actually enjoyed stories where i only update once a month #like constellations and TND #as well as something more regular like Black #and something a bit different like Blue and Gold #a big problem - which is frankly a lovely problem to have - is that i'm so *excited* to work on all these stories truly #none of them bore me or disinterest me #even the ones i'm not working on right now #i'm so enthusiastic about all of them #i just need to get better at patience which my ADHD brain finds frustrating #but i am getting there!#just getting TND finished feels lovely #like bittersweet but also lovely #and it will continue to feel that way as i shave off at the schedule #to get back to something more human #i appreciate you anon - make sure you're taking care

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winterchimez · 1 month

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things/aesthetic you associate with your moots please!

hi anonie!! it’s been a while since i’ve done tag games like this so LETS GAUR 🤩

im doing for the ones that i talk to most often ✨

@from-izzy my soulmate 🤞🏻(who clearly SHOULD be living in my city instead), sunricyeon!!, ✌🏻level-headed and ☝🏻dum-dum, purple 💜, bunnies 🐰, raccoons 🦝, in constant denial of her love life 😒, long calls & video calls, SAUR, music 🎶, “ALLY HELP ME 🥺”, fellow believer in God, concerts, has 19374848 plans to meet up but our studies/job preventing us to do so 😞 (but we will beat them and meet irl someday SOON BCS I MANIFEST)

@sungbeam my precious lil 妹妹 🫶🏻, blue 🩵, “hear me out….but another changmin potential wip/plot 🤡”, photocards, that wet tree rat pc, if talent was a person its her, care packages 📦, fellow introverts ✌🏻, the one who convinced me to purchase my sony headphones while we were videocalling in the store 🥹, my sleep paralysis demon, “ALLY JIEJIE”, my cutie wookie little sis 😔💗, but also goes 😐 whenever i talk abt sangyeon 🙄

@aimeecarreros the unhinged and wild one in the b*****, 1/4 of sangyeon’s whores, twerking ✨, the best gif maker ever 😤, “so elena…pretty pwease can you gif this for moi 🥺”, BBANGJU 👅, “CORREQUE ✌🏻”, insanely hilarious and unhinged memes and text messages 24/7, the moodmaker of the group, “haysss *inserts stripping meme*”, teasing me 24/7 🙄, pinterest, fashion 😍, bridal dresses 🤍

@snowflakewhispers the SAVAGE, maknae and the demon (lovingly) in the b*****, teasing me is her everyday job atp 🙄🙄🙄, mrs jacob bae, 1/4 of sangyeon’s whores, spitting fire 24/7 🔥, matching sony headphones 🤍, matching macbook colours 🩶, psych & kids 💗, the sunwoo to my eric, apparently is in a messed up relationship/situationship with someone who shall not be named 🦝, the moot who lives the closest to where i am 🥹 (so faster get your ass back here after uni ends)

@daisyvisions the unnie of the b*****, NAUR, that iconic zoom selfie 😌✨, constantly being distracted at work bcs of ✨unholy thoughts✨, podcast 🎧, 1/4 of sangyeon’s whores, also joined in on the fun with elena & ophelia on teasing moi 😔, jerry lee 🤤, doggo 🐶, newnudeshot 😏📸, photoism 🎞️, spongebob memes, BIG SEXC BRAIN 🧠, late night talks while working, always judging me for some reason 🙃

@justalildumpling my dongsaeng 👧🏻, sunricyeon!!, black 🖤, ptsd from windows turning from black to bright blue, “pull a j” aka doing and leaving assignments till the very last minute 😁, “guys…..”, “yall…..”, a simp 🤓, attracted to red flags men (but not anymore 😚), FOODIE CHINGUS, malatang, “guys….can we just call for like 20 mins max…i promise it won’t take long” = a 6-7hours call, late night (or early mornings) video calls, SHE IS A BEAUTY AN ICON AND SHE IS THE MOMENT 😍

@ethereal-engene my long-lost best friend 🥹, JU HAKNYEON 🍊, anime!!, men in glasses 🔛🔝, fellow chinese friend ❤️, cny 🧧, lion dances 🦁, WOOZI (ESP IN LONG HAIR 😩😩😩), matching hakkie pottery pcs 🤍, wips brainstorming ✍️, another cutie lil 妹妹 🥺, arms….and pecs 🤓, editing 👩‍💻, convos abt our studies/work life 💗

@kimsohn kim sunwoo, pinterest, “maya….i had a dream abt sangyeon….”, “oh!”, anime!!, that smiling and then speechless meme, sangyeon drenching himself in water 😀, “so when are you gonna write this”, sunric sluts, tbosas, coriolanus snow, always talking abt being on writers block with one another but eventually gets things done (and sometimes its long af), being caring 🥺, food!!

@quaissants 1/2 of my gremlins 👹, sends me lip gloss sangyeon 24/7, my twinnie 🤞🏻, same birthday & mbti 💗, speaks in such a soft manner like hello 🥺, genshin impact!!, ragnvindr bros ❤️💙, childe 🤓, angsty angst ❤️‍🩹, constantly looking out for me 🥹, men 😃, “i have selective reading”

@sanaxo-o another 1/2 of my gremlins 👹, unhinged as a person, sabrina carpenter 💗, flirty af but then i dont return the favour 😄, sends me sangyeon content 24/7, a great listener and gives me comfort, always checking up on others, ✌🏻level-headed and ☝🏻dum-dum, “LET ME BETA YOUR FICS”, pinterest, “Als”

@stealanity my unnie 🥺💗, always looking out for everyone, the big sister of the net, amazing as a person (i admire you loads), moodboards 😍, aesthetics ✨, a field of flowers 🌹🪻🌸🌺, brave (never afraid to speak up!!), i miss you sm unnie always 🫶🏻, calls me a cutie 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

@cloverdaisies CLO MY LOVE 💚, great britian 🇬🇧, fish & chips, “you have no rights ally ive revoked them”, “you dont love me anymore 🥺” aka clo’s way of making me feel guilty that i couldn’t visit her when i was back in EU (IT WILL HAPPEN ONE DAY I SWEAR I WILL BE BACK 😤😤😤), writing fics for one another 💗, STRONG ASS WOMAN 💪 (who juggles between work and uni all on her own 🥹🫂), “there’s a rat in my apartment”, phone & video calls (which we havent done in a while and we should again!!)

@juyeonszn my fawnie my bubba 🥹, coffee ☕️, zeneration livestream 🙌🏻, crying tgt, unboxing albums ✨, pcs collection, puppies 🐶, anime!!, big sexc brain 🧠, sunric sluts, INSANE MAKEUP LOOKS 😩, delulu is the solulu ✨, education 📚, never-ending talks on dc (which we haven’t done in a while i miss you loads 🥺), my fellow dancer 💃, if cutie was a person its fawnie 💗

@itsbeeble my pookie 🫶🏻, kim sunwoo, another big sexc brain 🧠, taylor swift 💛, eras tour ✨, “ALLY GO TO SLEEP”, eric sohn, ateez & svt!!, memes 24/7, exposing each other’s asses 😄, biker sunwoo 😩, delulu is the solulu ✨, another coffee buddy ☕️, talks abt uni/work life, always bouncing off ideas with one another

#❣️ — love notes!#❄️ — asks!#mutuals! <3

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mistymem0ryy · 1 year

Text

Il Dottore x Reader

The Fall of Icarus Chapter 2 - Recollections of burned days

The reader is yet again gender neutral (I use some french pet names but they are given with the different manners of addressing for different genders)

Summary: Some recollections of the time spent between you and Zandik during your Academia years, from your Uncle’s illness to an expediction in the hills of Snezhnaya that shed light upon unspoken words.

Author’s notes: I know you all have been asking for a part 2 for this “series” and with exams and assignments I could not bring myself to write it sooner. I am currently working on a Pierro fanfic and some Kazuha stuff on the sidelines so drafting and creating this was quite the ordeal. I am prioritizing Chapter 3 (and probably the final one) of this series since Chapter 2 is mainly things that hapenned in the past... have mercy on me I am but a humble uni student...

{no beta we die like Zandik’s assistants}

Chapter 1

Word count: 3491

Fire banishes matter from existence, but memory, memory prevails among the ashes, it creeks and coils from within its own cadaver, it challenges the flames into an eternal duel.

You can feel the coldness from the unforgiving weather slowly protrude through your shivering body, you had previously prepared for this sort of situation but it is one of those scenarios that when found in actual practice instead of theory are more complex than previously thought.

Unbeknownst to your freezing body, the blue haired man that is walking alongside your frame, silently clutching to the ends of the thick fabric from your outer garments, finds himself cursing in unison with your shivering protests.

The matter of his complaints is quite different from yours.

Had the gods looked upon him with a different eye he would have received a pyro vision in order to aid your chilling body, to transform himself into your sole bringer of warmth while traveling the borders of Snezhnaya, he would have perhaps even used the situation as a scapegoat into your longing embrace, but such a thing would never be admitted out loud.

And yet no divine light emanated from the inside of his layering fur jacket, no sign or symbol of any gods’ approval, reminding him of the cruel present.

He had never been gifted by the Gods.

No matter how ambitious and deserving he was, it was as if the deities up above looked at him directly with sole scorn.

To believe that from all of the archons, the one governing the matters of Love would be the one to recognize Zandik’s greatness.

The only thing he could hope for was that the flames from your own intent would be powerful enough to purify his icy heart out of this putrid existence.

A fate similar to that of Icarus did not sound that unappealing after all.

“I think I can finally see the camp set by the others! Zandik hold on for a little longer okay?”

If any other person had addressed him in such a casual manner his facial features would have been consumed by a degrading sneer, but this wasn't any other pestering academic peer ready to drain his brains out with mindless chatter, it was you, the only soul he had found “tolerable” in the last passing years of his existence within the walls of the Academia.

The only sign that he had even been capable of hearing and processing your words clearly had been his slight push of your furry jacket, as if silently saying “I am here with you, I trust you enough to become my eyes. Do not break that trust”.

The plan that you had previously carved alongside Zandik during your voyage from the Academia’s dorms to the camp in Schneznaya’s southern border had quickly been thrown to the wolves and ravaged by their unforgivable teeth. Both of you were in your fourth academic year, which meant you would finally be allowed to go into a professional scientific expedition alongside some of your upperclassmen and actually put the last years of long lectures and cramming to the test of nature and skill.

You initially had the opportunity of choosing between 3 different expeditions and the one related with abnormal elemental phenomena in one of the borders located within the winter nation had stricken your interest. The moment you had your papers in hand you went straight to Zandik, who was as expected hidden within a smaller fraction of the left wing’s library surrounded by books concerning his most resurging obsession with ruin guards.

You decided that the most adequate approach would be to begin questioning him on what his choice will be, perhaps the one exploration in Natlan will have caught his eye-

“All of these expeditions are utter rubbish and I find no interest in a single one, honestly who do the Sages think we are? A bunch of fresh first years that will tremble at the sight of some unnatural fauna? For shame… ”

Your strained smile surrenders to an annoyed look that has slowly but surely become your signature expression as of late.

“The only shameful thing that will happen will be you failing this project if you end up treating it as a field trip, there will be older examiners looking into our every move and this is a unique opportunity to redeem yourself in the eyes of the Sages”

“Redeem myself of what exactly?”

Dangerous territory. You were aware of it. The subject of surging rumors was one both you and Zandik had silently agreed to not discuss out loud, it was the sort of thing that was unconsciously known between those that share a bond similar to the one both of you possessed.

“Look, we’ve talked about this okay. I do not think it was your fault, you simply happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, her death… it was a tragedy yes, but this whole academia is a social ecosystem of its own, people strive out of the failure of others and then hide it behind disingenuous apologies. Most of these people admired and worshiped you during first year and now with these rumors they see an opportunity to strike you down-”

“I have reassured you countless times that I do not care about what those brainless imbeciles think of m-”

“I know. Trust me I do. But this is not a matter of caring. This could seriously damage your career as a scientist Zandik, independently of how much of an excellent researcher you could be. I just think it would be better for you to lay low for now, after the whole thesis business that happened last term, i-... I got genuinely scared, okay?”

It was true, Zandik developed a new theme for his soon to be thesis after having his last one rejected, and it came as no surprise to everyone when the Sages decided that his new theme was as outlandish as the previous one. To add unto that the rumors of Zandik’s supposed involvement in the murder of one of your classmates wasn't exactly helpful either, the funeral had taken place some weeks ago but the masses of gossiping students did not cease from growing even during the Academia’s supposed mourning period.

There were interrogations, you remember clearly the moment Zandik was snatched from your side and led away by Sumerian authorities, the gaze that he directed at you sent the message perfectly “Do not follow me. Do not get involved. I got this covered. If you even dare to insert yourself in this mess I’ll kill you, bring you back to life, and then kill you again”. He did not exactly have a way with words, but goddamn those eyes could tell you a whole lot about whatever machinations were taking place within his mind.

Sohreh was her name. She had taken your place as Zandik’s lab partner during one of his research projects regarding the reverse engineering of ruin guards. You and Zandik had been planning that project for more than a year, but when your uncle was suddenly stricken with an unknown illness you chose to pack your bags and temporarily interrupt your studies to take care of him in Fontaine. Zandik had offered to send some expensive sumerian healers instead of you, but you stood your ground firmly, the only reason you were even able to frequent the Academia was thanks to your uncle’s generosity that paid for your entrance exams. You were going to go back and heal him back to health just like he had done to you countless times during your rather frail childhood.

During that period of time Zandik made sure to write to you nearly every day, even though the beginning of his letters were always filled with enquiries regarding yours and your uncle’s well being they quickly turned into long rants regarding Sohreh’s unprofessionalism and supposed complete inability to catch up with his chaotic process, even thought he would never admit that even upon written word.

“She insists on displacing important elements of my bibliography and is unable to catalog simple essays according to theme and density.”

“She is always late and treats my research as a pastime of hers. If you were here we would have been through half of the process by now.”

“She told me I looked handsome.”

At the moment you laughed hysterically from the confines of the Fontaine styled kitchen where you read most of his letters while preparing your uncle’s morning coffee, but your laugh was quickly cut short by frigid realization. It was quite well known around the Academia the fact that when directing oneself towards Zandik it would be wise to take into account every single syllable that leaves one’s lips. Being referred to as “Handsome” or “Young” were adjectives that the blue haired student despised ardently, when asked for an explanation behind his disdain nothing coherent came out of it.

You had known Sohreh, you were never exactly close but during your first year when no set groups were yet formed and everyone mingled in conversation without any boundary present you had found yourself in some rather… weird chats with her… Some would call her confident but you honestly could not comprehend the appeal of her loudness and directness, you never complained though, simply transforming your chats into smiles in the corridor to not even acknowledging each other if not strictly necessary.

You later found out that she had gossiped about your behavior among some of your peers, you did not took it to heart, you knew people like her and their overly sociable nature, she wasn't the first person that you had encountered that derived pleasure from humiliating others from behind the curtains and she certainly would not be the last. You had frequented various schools in Fontaine, and if you were completely honest the level of social nastiness in the Academia could not even compare to a common preparatory school in your home country.

But one thing was she annoying you.

Another thing was she getting on Zandik’s nerves.

Two awfully different situations with catastrophically contrasting outcomes.

At a certain point during your uncle’s recovery the flow of letters diminished greatly, until your fear and anxiety began to intermingle with each other after you hadn’t heard from Zandik in 4 consecutive days.

On the fifth day you received a telegram.

“The Furies have been slayed,

Icarus must not burn but his wings shall turn to ash,

The labyrinth deepens.

-Z”

You and Zandik had originally bonded over your mutual fascination with ancient myth, not only did he referred to you by the name of the fallen youth but you had both agreed to communicate in code in situations in which it was strictly necessary, like when commenting on a noisy classmate, when gossiping about an annoying professor, when attempting to bargain with a Sumerian merchant for supplies, when tragedy was amiss.

You quickly burned the telegram and rethought his words.

“The Furies have been slayed”

“Icarus must not burn but his wings shall turn to ash”

“The Labyrinth deepens”

Something was clearly wrong and your first instinct was to grab paper and quill and question him in regards to his absence until you realized that it was too late for that. It was as if your stomach had been emptied of all substance, an emptiness that spread and spread like an infectious disease, the last time you felt such a weight upon your frame was when Zandik’s laboratory caught fire and due to some anomaly in the design of the eastern wing from the building the quantity of toxic gas began to accumulate and suffocate your peers one by one.

Zandik was able to leave the building nearly intact and actually turned out to be the only one capable of saving the rest of your colleagues which allowed a subsequent ushering of the by then growing rumors. But that did not alleviate the fact that he had been locked up in a sealed laboratory that could have suffocated him to death in a matter of minutes.

You hurried those thoughts away and had made your decision by midday.

You had to return to Sumeru.

Immediately.

Your uncle’s situation had improved greatly thanks to your care and you were certain that he could take it on from here at least for the next few weeks before you return for a check in.

“Is it that boy again?”

“Who?” You were currently packing your bags and making sure your uncle had enough supplies for the next few days. Of course he had noticed your recent skirmishes, after all you did read some of Zandik’s letters to your uncle during his more conscious moments, he insisted on calling him “the boy”, no matter how many times you remembered him that Zandik was already of age and no longer the teenager you got lost with in the various corridors of the Academia during your uncontrollable first year.

“You know exactly who I am talking about… He always was… quite the quirky one wasn't he? Is he in any sort of trouble?”

You sigh and take a moment before answering. “I don’t know.”

“You know I am happy for you don’t you?” Where was this coming from?

“You are no longer in the risk of death there is no need to begin a sentimental speech uncle” You halfheartedly laugh while directing yourself to the man next to the open window that graces you with the view of rural Fontaine.

So many things were capable of bringing happiness in this forgotten town and yet his face remained strict, undiscoverable, as if hiding something willingly and fearing the outcome of its liberation to the world.

“I am not playing mon|ma chéri. You don’t know how grateful I am for you coming to rescue me in this situation… But I must ask you to be more careful from now on.”

You did not liked where this conversation was going, but remained silent in order to let him speak his mind.

“I remember how happy I was when you first told me that you had finally made a friend, not an acquaintance, not someone you speak solely to not be alone during group projects, but an actual friend. On top of all that you were studying in one of the best academies of Teyvat, you are my greatest pride and joy, ma vie…But I must warn you that I don’t like where things are going, every day so many talking and newspapers of fires and scholars dying unexpectedly… It scares me because you are there… Our neighbor Meursault, his mother… You probably already know but his mother worked in one of those fancy departments in the Academia, she died in one of those Ruin guards expeditions… Terrible, terrible thing…The boy hasn’t shown a single emotion since… People talk… Fear arises… I do not like where this is going, not at all… and that boy,well if he's your friend then i'm fine with that… but i still ask you to be careful that’s all…”

“The Labyrinth deepens”

There was nowhere else to turn, your mind was made up, and you quickly said your goodbyes to your uncle… This sudden sickness, the problems in the Academia, his fear, it all began to interconnect in your mind…

If you weren’t going to burn…

Then who was?

You were almost there, you could feel it in your freezing blood. Carrying nearly the whole weight of the full body belonging to an adult man was, most probably, not in your best rationally taken decisions list but it was the necessary means to an end.

And that end was only some meters ahead, you could barely discern some of the lightning up ahead, a symbol of civilization, of life, human life awaiting to aid you.

You hadn’t been talking to Zadik prior to this expedition. Even though you both seemed to be on good terms after your return his coldness towards you began to develop in parallel with the rumors regarding his behavior. After leaving the dorms and entering the caravans to your current destination alongside the other scholars it was as if a switch had been pressed and he returned to being and acting as your normal Zandik (how normal that is in nature is , of course, up to debate).

He talked with you through the whole voyage as if you hadn't been nearly begging him to at least look in your direction in the last few tormenting weeks. You wanted to yell. Ask him, no, demand from him the reason behind his sudden refusal to even direct his gaze towards you. But something told you that it wasn't the time for that. That it was better for you to gulp your pride down and allow yourself this moment of grace, you never know when those that you cherish the most are walking towards a point of no return, you let his side remarks and silly banter consume you, and allow yourself in that moment, to be not a scientist and neither a scholar, but rather a simple human all over again.

After setting up camp early that morning with some other students, you and Zandik had been tasked to complete some rounds around some nearby sights and regain some samples from local dying flora, during that period Zandik’s demeanor gradually become more serious and alert, you asked him for the source of his worries but he only limited himself to silently sushing you and continue on his path, this was getting tiring.

While having your attention grasped by some rather strange elemental residues near a cave you did not notice Zandik’s prolonged absence.

You only noticed his scream.

No matter how irritable, how enraged, Zandik never lowered himself to the point of actually elevating his voice to such a degree.

You had never heard him scream.

It was raw, primordial.

It was as if he was burning from the inside out.

You remember running hastily towards the source of that petrifying sound and the sight that you were met with reminded you of one of those blood soaked war paintings you attentively gauged at in Fontaine’s Art Museum during your trips with your Uncle to the capital.

The fallen soldier, glory destroyed, a reawakening. A resurrection.

Night was arriving step by step.

Zandik was trying to elevate himself from his kneeling position.

His eyes were bleeding.

You had one priority now and it was to grab Zandik, leave that cavern, and return to camp before the unforgivable winter night catched up to you. You reached him from behind and even though his body freezed for a slight second, ready to retaliate whomever dared to touch him, by the moment he noticed it was your arm reaching in his aid, he relaxed and allowed you to do whatever you thought fit.

You had no idea what had just happened within the confines of that cavern.

You did not see it but you could smell it. Whatever was beginning to rot in the confines of that cave you did not wish to meet face to face.

Just some more steps and you'll be laughing about it all.

Just some more steps and Zandik will be able to be given first aid and then explain everything to you clearly.

Just some more steps and it will all be back to how it used to be-

“Zandik”

A voice reverberated through the mountains, it traveled with the strong winds and reached you in no time. That was not the voice of a meager scholar getting used to the terrain.

That was the voice of someone familiar with the flow of air and therefore of sound within these grave air conditions.

“ZANDIK”

Was the voice getting louder or were you getting nearer to the source? You could feel Zandik begin to frantically pull on your jacket and you momentarily ripped your gaze from the camp and dared to search for the origin of that voice.

It was all beginning to come together.

Were you blindly building a puzzle all along?

You could feel your body paralyze, not due to the hours you have spent without a nutritious meal and neither due to the freezing temperatures of Snezhnaya, but rather due to sheer all consuming fear.

The type of fear that follows you for years beyond, the type of fear that haunts you in whatever corner of the world you decide to hide. You opened your mouth and remained silent for a while, until you couldn't even feel the words anxiously leaving your lips, as if in a rush to be freed from the confinement of your vocal cords.

You directed your frightened gaze towards the male you had been carrying around through the snowy terrain, no matter how many times you insisted on his adulthood and mature character to others, in that precise moment he looked like nothing but a boy.

“Zandik, why are those Fatui soldiers calling you?”

“And why is there a Harbinger among them?“

#genshin impact #ill dottore #fanfic #ill dottore x reader #zandik #zandik x reader #fatui #fatui harbingers #harbingers #fatui x reader #harbingers x reader #dottore x reader #genshin #sumeru #imagine #il dottore x reader #il dottore

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moonyswritinq · 2 years

Note

Hi!! Could you possibly write a Obi Wan x Male reader (or gender neutral if you want) where Anakin and Ashoka (maybe even Rex if you want more chaos) accidentally find out about Obi Wan’s relationship with the reader? Of course you don’t have to if you don’t want to! Thanks!!

caught in the moment — obi-wan kenobi x male reader

❝ CAUGHT IN THE MOMENT ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ You and Obi-Wan have been sneaking around for months and you're long overdue being found out. It was only a matter of time. It's only fitting it would be by the three people who knows you best and are the most obnoxious about it.

PAIRING ➢ obi-wan kenobi x male reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ secret relationship, swearing, tension, suggestive content, generally just idiocy, hints of Anakin x oc, idk kinda angsty? kissing, making out, rivalry, slight ooc Obi-Wan, a stupid Jedi council

WORD COUNT ➢ 3.2 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ thank you so much for this request! it was very fun to write. i wanna apologize for taking so long to write this though. i wrote half of it like a month ago but i've been so busy with my job and moving and now i have a little time before uni starts so i thought why not catch up on my writing. this is not my best work but i am still kind of proud. if you pay attention you will notice an original character in this fic — Emrys. He is based on one of my best friends and this will not be the last you will be seeing of him. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The view is amazing. Blue skies, as far as the eye can see, threading the edges of the city’s buildings carefully. It is full of life; blinking neon lights, aircrafts speeding between the tall buildings. You’re amidst it all, enclosed in a circular room with high windows on all sides, chairs directed to the middle. You’re sat in one of those chairs, figures at your sides clad in the same robes as you are.

Your attention is to the middle, where a tall woman is stood, back straight, arms at her sides. She doesn’t look faced by being in a room surrounded by Jedi. Instead, her gaze is steady as she meets every one of your eyes, and her voice clear.

“Word has been sent from the Kamparas system, the Separatists is apparently closing in on their bases. Without help, they will have fallen before the end of the week.”

You tilt your head, leaning against the palm of your hand. That really was an issue. Kamparas held a lot of support for the Jedi and everything against the Separatist forces was precious. Their technology had also proved to been an asset in the past. In your opinion, there was no question in the matter, but others seems to have different opinions.

“I say we fight, send troops down ‘ere. Crush the Separatist bastards,” Master Kit Fisto, a green-skinned Nautolan, exclaims, slamming his fist into the chair.

Master Agen Kolar shakes his head. “It’s too risky. We send troops down there and our people will be spread thin, too vulnerable to the Separatist.”

“A decision difficult, it is,” Master Yoda, a small creature with green, wrinkly skin, says with his usual inquisitive tone. Your eyes widen in disbelief. A difficult decision, really?

“We’re talking about whether to let hundreds of our people die, not what you are having for supper this evening.” You can’t keep your anger from your voice, disbelief written across your features. “There’s no decision to be made; we have to help them.”

Your eyes search the other members’, trying desperately to find anyone in your favour. Your eyes catches on a pair of blue ones — ones belonging to none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’s sitting with one leg on the opposite knee, hair perfectly laying against his head and gaze steady on you. He says nothing but a subtle nod of his head in your support, something that manages to warm your cheeks.

“It is difficult,” Master Stass Allie says, “We are deciding the fate of thousands of lives here.” You opened your mouth to respond but she cut you off. “It is not simply about the lives on Kamparas. It is the lives of the whole galaxy. What we do affects everyone, y/l/n. We have to decide if it’s worth it.”

You let out a humourless laugh. Are they serious?

“The Jedi swore to protect the galaxy. That includes every single life on Kamparas. We do not get to pick and choose whose lives are deemed to be worth it.” You can feel your pulse quicken in your ears, surprised that the other Jedi cannot hear it. “We do not just abandon our people in difficult times. That would make us no better than the Sith.”

Master Allie grits her teeth, opening her mouth to counter you but stop herself when Master Yoda lifts a three-fingered hand.

“An interesting argument you make, Master y/l/n. Help, we will.”

You sigh in relief, relaxing against your chair. However peaceful the Council says they are, it is surprisingly difficult deciding on something.

“Clone troopers on a spacecraft we will send, accompanied by a Jedi Master,” he continues, directing the information to the messenger still stood in the middle of the room. She nods, immediately turning to walk out.

“That is not enough,” you object, straightening in your chair. “They need more help than that!”

“Master y/l/n!” Master Mace Windu interrupts, holding your gaze steadily. “We have sent the help we can. Any more and we will jeopardise the other systems that are in need of our help. We cannot help everyone at once.”

You grit your teeth, muttering, “Fine.”

Without waiting for the meeting to come to a conclusion, you stand up and rush out of the doors, letting them slam shut behind you. You feel winded, as if you have just run a hundred miles, your pulse throbbing in your ears. You lean against the closest wall and close your eyes, letting the coolness calm you down.

“That bad, huh?”

You crack an eye open, watching as your Padawan, Emrys, steps closer. You let out a huff of a laugh, shaking your head. “When isn’t it?”

“Well, there was that one time—”

The doors to the chamber open, Obi-Wan’s long strides echoing against the floor, his cloak billowing behind him. He stops short when his eyes land on your apprentice, looking between the two of you.

You push yourself against the wall. “Emrys—”

“No need, Master. I was just about to leave. It’s getting late.” His gaze jumps between you and Kenobi, eyes narrowing slightly. You wish you could read the expression on his face. “Kenobi, you don’t happen to know where Anakin is? Or you know what? I’ll find him myself. I’ll, er— see you later, Masters.”

Your gaze follows his retreating form, before finally turning towards Obi-Wan. “How can they deny the aid for help? I swear, they are all selfish bastards.”

Obi-Wan catches your attention with your name softly falling from his lips. “I know how hard this is for you, it is for me too. But we cannot let our feelings get in the way. You know we cannot help everyone.”

“I know. It’s just—“

Your words trail off, your gaze instantly softening at his expression, stepping closer as his hands reach for your face. You have the sudden urge to fall against him, to let him bear your weight. You almost let yourself. The sound of echoing footsteps further down the hall make the two of you freeze, just now realising how exposed you are.

“Not here,” you mutter, turning to walk down the opposite corridor. He follows at your side, matching your strides, expression indifferent, almost bored. You would be impressed were it not for the shallow breaths he’s releasing..

You take a sharp turn, taking ahold of Obi-Wan’s hand in the process, dragging him against you into the empty chamber. As soon as the door closes behind the two of you, you allow yourself to sag against him. His arms circle your back, pressing you even closer to him.

You let him. Just this once, you tell yourself.

You’ve told yourself that for months now.

It first started with a kiss, a spur in the moment sort of thing. You had been sparring together, head to head, a lightsaber each at hand. You were both equals, meeting the other with every attack made. Every move countered. Every comment with a quick retort. It amused you to see how much you could step on Obi-Wan’s toes.

He had been cold the past few weeks, icing you out. He had been distant. You knew he had been avoiding you, even though he tried to deny it. What you didn't know was why. Why did he avoid you like the plague? It doesn’t matter, you had decided. What did matter was getting him back for it. The only way you knew how, that is.

“Come on, Obi-Wan, you can be quicker than that,” you teased, bringing your lightsaber to meet his with a nonchalant swing of your wrist. He gives you a roguish grin, forcing you backwards. With a jerk of his chin your legs give out underneath you, sending you sprawling to the floor.

Obi-Wan walks into your line of sight, his lightsaber pointer at your neck. “Quick enough for you?”

You chuckle. Your foot makes contact with Obi-Wan’s legs, kicking them from underneath him. He tumbles to the ground, dropping his lightsaber and begin rolling to a crouch. You’re quicker. You move to grab your dropped lightsaber, throwing yourself against him, pinning him to the ground. His eyes widen, painfully aware of your touch against him. He tries to rip free from your grip, but you don’t budge.

You grin, leaning closer. “Not quick enough, apparently.”

“Get off,” he pants in that perfect accent of his, chest heaving from the exertion. You take notice of his messed up hair, blue eyes glaring into yours. You have the urge to lean closer but restrain yourself, instead removing your knees from either side of him and standing up. You offer him a hand, one of which he takes gratefully.

“You have improved a lot since last time,” Obi-Wan says as he brushes off the dirt on his robes.

You smile, a genuine one this time. “You as well. Who knew there really were muscles underneath all that clothing?”

He lets out a huff of a laugh, meeting your gaze with that special twinkle in his eye. He steps forward, one hand clutching yours and bringing you closer. You clasp a hand on his shoulder, smiling.

The sun’s setting, casting deep shadows around the two of you. It makes Obi-Wan’s hair appear golden in the light, the contours of his face highlighted on all the right places. Something shifts. You don’t know what it is, but suddenly the air seems warmer, your breaths coming in shallow. You meet Obi-Wan’s gaze and there it is.

His pupils dilated, his breath hitched and his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. You’re too stunned to move. He tentatively reaches a hand for your cheek, hesitating when you make no move. When he begins to draw back you finally come to your bearings, grabbing the front of his robes and tugging on them. You meet him halfway, your lips finally pressing against his.

The kiss was hurried, both of you chasing to release the tension from training. You let all of your pent-up frustration, uncertainty and rage bleed into the kiss, letting Obi-Wan know exactly how you felt. He gasped into the kiss, allowing you to deepen it. You bit his lip lightly and it took all he had to not moan against you.

You hadn’t realised how much you needed this. Needed him. Obi-Wan knew, had tried to suppress it too, but to no avail. He knew what it meant for a Jedi to indulge in these sorts of things. Now it was too late for regrets.

You had promised yourself that it was only one time, that it wouldn’t happen again. Unfortunately, one time turned into ten times, which turned into fifty times. You couldn’t resist Obi-Wan’s soft lips on yours. The way he throws his head back when your lips meet his neck, biting at that sensitive spot. His beard scratching your skin. His hands roaming your back and shoulders.

Hands currently clutching your robes, chin resting against your shoulder. Obi-Wan knows that you just need some time to let your rage settle and, while you may not admit it, he knows you feel better with him around. Your relationship had been one existing of trial and error, trying to figure out what works for the both of you and coming to terms with the fact that you’re very much breaking the Jedi Code. The two of you had not escaped the suppressing of feelings, hesitancy and fear completely yet, despite the long way you’d already come.

However, right now, nothing felt better than to be pressed against Obi-Wan’s warm chest, feeling his heart thud against it. A steady beat against the turmoil that are your thoughts. You sigh into the embrace, Obi-Wan pulling away just far enough to have a proper look at your face.

“You’re going to be alright,” he whispers. You smile at his words, an unwelcome warmth spreading in your gut. An instant later, his expression shifts. “You looked pretty hot in there.”

Your smile grows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like seeing you get all riled up.”

You feel your cheeks begin to warm, shifting your gaze between his eyes and lips. You beckon him closer. “Maybe we will have to do something about that, then.”

Obi-Wan brings his lips to yours, not withstanding another moment without the feel of you. You groan into him, welcoming the touch. It’s not a tender kiss, nor a rough one. It’s one full of tension and unspoken words, just like your first one. It seems to be what you and Obi-Wan excel most at.

A groan of the door is what pushes you and Obi-Wan apart, terrified to have been caught together. You cannot help but expect the worst; a fellow Jedi having just witnessed your treachery, already on their way to report the falseness to the council. Or worse yet, a council’s member witnessing it themselves.

Instead, three smaller figures are standing by the doorway, the same wide eyes and agape mouths on each face.

“Told you,” your Padawan says with a smug grin, his gaze jumping between you and Obi-Wan.

“Gotta give it to you, man, I did not believe you.” Anakin, Kenobi’s former apprentice, reluctantly hands Emrys a fair amount of credits with a shake of his head. He sends Anakin a wink to which he glares back at.

Ahsoka’s eyes are almost as wide as saucers, trying and failing to smother a laugh. You try not to let your current predicament fluster you, instead rising to your full height and letting the weight of your gaze pin them to their places.

“And what exactly are the three of you doing out of your quarters at this hour?” Obi-Wan’s tone is sharp and filled with all the confidence you cannot seem to find right now. To their credit, the three of them does not back down.

Emrys crosses his arms, cocking an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same, Master.”

“This is not the time to be snarky, Emrys,” you snap, narrowing your eyes at the young man. “You may be nearing the end of your training but you are not a Jedi Knight yet — you still have to abide the rules for Padawans.”

“They may not be Knights, but I am,” says Anakin. Your gaze turns to him, as does Obi-Wan’s. “And I do not think that us being awake late is worse than what our poor eyes just witnessed. Not in the council’s eyes, at least.”

“Oh, how melodramatic you are.” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes as Anakin fixes him with a glare. “Neither of you witnessed anything tonight, understood?”

“I don’t know,�� Emrys says, tapping his finger to his forehead. “With how much you two like to preach about the Jedi ways I think it’d be wrong to ignore something like this. After all, doesn’t this go explicitly against the Jedi Code?”

“I agree with the idiots, you’re always saying feelings are a Jedi’s undoing,” Ahsoka chimes in, voice full of accusation.

Obi-Wan stutters, mind drawing blanks. It’s all he can do to turn his gaze to yours, question written in his eyes. “I— honestly don’t know anymore.”

“Obi, what— of course we’re in the wrong. What are you on about?” You can’t focus. All you see is Obi-Wan’s helpless eyes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, his hands stretched out in confusion, unsure of what to do with them.

Resolve shifts behind his gaze, his voice growing steadier. “These past few months have been the happiest time of my entire life. Now, don’t you think that says something about the Jedi Code? Tell me, y/n — tell me you don’t feel the same.”

“I—” Your cheeks begin to heat up, feeling the eyes of the entire room on you. Why is he putting you on the spot like this?

“Er, maybe we should leave.” Emrys discomfort is clear as he starts to reach for Anakin’s arm.

“No, wait,” Obi-Wan says, turning to the three youngsters. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

Anakin cocks his head to the side. “As I said, Master, it would be hard to ignore something this big. It would take a lot for me to forget.”

“A hit on the head would do the job,” you mutter.

Obi-Wan ignores you, “What do you want, Anakin?”

You dislike the smile that starts to grow on the young man’s face. “Why don’t we start with something small? Like you taking care of some of our chores and boring duties. We’ll continue from there.”

“Or,” you start, glaring at Emrys and Anakin, “we don’t tell the council about your relationship either?”

“What!?” Emrys exclaims at the same time as Anakin practically shouts, “We’re not in a relationship!”

Ahsoka turns to the two men, hands on her hips. “Am I the only one here not breaking the Jedi Code? Unbelievable, all of you!”

Emrys’ fixes you with a glare, lowering his voice to a hiss. “I can’t believe you.”

You lower your face to his level. “I can’t believe you either.” Your eyes shift to Anakin, noting how his body shifts and his gaze keep flickering back to Emrys. With a sigh, you straighten. “Now, get out of here and forget this ever happened.”

“Because that’s likely to happen. God, my poor eyes,” Ahsoka mutters. Anakin smirks at her, too smug for his own good.

“Sure, whatever you say, Master,” Emrys grins, grabbing Anakin’s arm and turning to the door. You can see him whisper something in Emrys’ ear, to which his cheeks redden. They really thought you wouldn’t notice? At least you and Obi-Wan were more subtle than that.

When you hear the door close behind the three youngsters you turn to Obi-Wan, finally meeting his gaze.

“So—” he begins.

“So.”

“We finally got found out,” he chuckles, trying to hide his own awkwardness. “Long overdue if you ask me.”

“Did you really mean that?” you blurt out, unable to stop yourself.

“Mean what?”

“About being happy? With me.”

“Yes,” he says in a shaky exhale.

“Obi—”

“Just listen, y/n. I’ve followed the Jedi Code strictly as long as I can remember, word by word. No feelings, no attachments — all because the Code said it makes us vulnerable to the darkness. And yet, I’ve never felt stronger than in your presence.”

A slow smile spreads across your face. “Who knew you were such a cheeseball?”

His hands reach for your face, taking ahold of it. “y/n, I don’t know what you do to me but I adore you. I cannot let you go now.”

“I think that may have been what the Code is referring to.” You let out a chuckle despite yourself.

His lips press against your neck, leaving behind a trail of featherlight touches. “Forget about the Code. Just— tell me you want this. Us.”

You pull away to look him in the eyes. Those ocean blue eyes that seem to hold every secret within the universe, that glint that always tells you his mood. God, how you loved him.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, I want you.”

And there it is. The secret is out. The words are said. No more pretending it wasn’t real, that it was a one time thing.

No point in turning back now.

#moonyswritinq #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars x male reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x male reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan x male reader #x reader #x male reader #fanfic #fanfiction #jedi #star wars fluff #obi wan kenobi fluff #he/him #gay #star wars x y/n

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reds-skull · 5 months

Text

The World is Silent

[AO3]

Had this idea for the last couple of days, started writing it yesterday at 5am, went until 7am, slept, woke up, finished it instead of my uni work.

This oneshot is fucking depressing, and deals with some suicidal thoughts (made myself cry with this one, just be warned)

The world is silent. Plants cover the once indestructible walls of the base, vines making patterns in the cracks of the grey concrete. Leaves, old enough to brown and die, cover the training grounds, erasing the foot tracks, the memory that someone ever lived there.

Ghost cannot even indulge in the faint mark. He is not allowed to carry that reminder, that there was. There was an army here, there was a place he could call home.

There was. And now, there is no more.

The world is silent, but his mind screams. He walks through empty streets, under barren bridges and over desolate roads.

Ghost has been looking for more canned meat. He ran out a while back, not finding a will to go into the city. He hates the cities the most.

In the wild, in ancient forests and hills, he can pretend there’s still something out there, someone. A voice besides his own.

The city reminds him what was taken from him. He never truly cared for humanity - Ghost saw the worst of it as part of his job, and before that… he was nursed not on milk but on snake venom. His mind developed a taste for pain, and yet he always craved more. Companionship, comfort. And perhaps love, even if he does not know the true meaning of the word, even if he can’t imagine it. He wanted love. Still wants it, but that’s a dream he must leave behind.

Ghost knows he can’t love himself. And therefore there is no one in this world to love him.

He looks around, gun loosely on his back, for mere comfort. Wild animals won’t require an M4 to kill.

One of the many grocery stores he recalls come into view right around the corner. He can’t feel too happy about it when the entrance is blocked by a felled tree, one of the many storms in the past few weeks snapping its trunk.

Ghost could simply go to a different one, but there are not many interesting things left for him to do in this world. Or, there are not many things he wants to do. There’s no point to accomplish anything when there is no one left to share it with, no one left to congratulate him.

The nearby house renovating store had a few good saws, and Ghost picks one labelled for tree trunks before returning to his new enemy. At the beginning, he thought of everything as a mission, taking care and putting in the dedication he would back Before. Now, he’s too tired of it.

He’s too tired of everything.

Ghost gets to work on the tree, the back and forth motion of sawing leaving too much room for thought. His thoughts, when left unchecked, often lead him to memories. And memories, all they’re good for now is heartache.

Still, he remembers. Because he couldn’t bare forgetting.

He couldn’t bare forgetting how Price’s bucket hat looked, the curve of the front casting shadows over his eyes (were they green? Blue? Perhaps a mixture of both?). How Gaz would buy them all tea, the expensive kind, whenever he went on leave. How he would laugh at Soap, when the Scot took a sip to try (and how did his laugh sound like?).

And he could never forget Soap, Johnny. His blue eyes, the way they shone in sunlight. His crooked smile. His silly hair. How he wished he could remember all the jokes they exchanged, the small touches before missions, his Scots.

Ghost doesn’t only remember. He also changed them, in his memory. Price was just a Captain Before, but now he’s a father, proud of Ghost and supportive of him, someone to lean on. Gaz, a brother in arms, turned brother by blood, a person he could share his deepest secrets to, no matter how embarrassing. Someone he never had to hide from. And Johnny… Johnny became an infatuation. Ghost can’t call it love, because he does not know the meaning of the word.

The tree trunk splinters under the saw, and Ghost manages to cut away enough to move it to the side, unblocking the door. He throws the saw to the side, if he needed another, he would just go back to where he found it.

In this new world, there is no consequence for his actions.

He begins browsing through the shelves, finding himself drowning in memories once more. In this candy Price mentioned he liked, or the energy drink he shared with Gaz and Soap. In the scotch next to the Bourbon, in the tea next to the coffee.

Ghost’s heart skips a bit when he hears a whimper, and he instantly takes hold of his rifle and looks around. Despite no danger existing anymore, his heart still believes there’s a possibility. His mind doesn’t indulge in those delusions.

The whimpers and whines continue, and he steps around aisles, clearing corners just to feel safe.

He reaches the end of the store, and there lays a small bundle of fur, breath heavy. He lowers the gun, and the creature lifts its head.

A dog. It has brown fur, matted and dirty, and eyes… blue.

They remind him of Johnny.

Ghost wants to shoot the dog, for daring to look like what he lost. But he can’t even lift the barrel to aim, not when blue eyes look at him like that. He could never harm their owner.

He spots a meat can on the shelf next to him. The dog still whines, albeit quieter now, curious of Ghost.

He opens the can, and slowly crouches, inching closer to the dog. It doesn’t seem afraid of him, and yet again he’s reminded of Soap. Soap was never afraid of him.

The dog sniffs the air, tries to get up on wobbly legs, and falls once again. Ghost stretches his arm close enough to let the dog eat, and it immediately starts slobbering up the food loudly. It almost makes him huff.

Ghost supposed he could sit here for a while longer. Nothing waits for him at base, nor here.

Nothing waits for him everywhere.

Johnny wakes him up again, licking his face enthusiastically. He groans and pets his soft head. The dog has grown quite a lot in the last few months, now reaching his mid-thigh when on all fours.

Ghost found himself a sort of routine, mostly forced to by Johnny. The little muppet likes taking walks around the forest, but he doesn’t like doing it alone. Ghost can’t be mad at him for that, not when he shares the sentiment.

He dresses up in warmer clothing, lacing his boots automatically, and walks out of his barrack room.

Ghost reckons he could’ve found a better place to sleep in, hell, even the Captain quarters would be better than the small room, paper-thin mattress, and bathroom made for dwarves that is Ghost’s room. He likes the familiarity of it too much to change now. It makes it so when he wakes up from a rare dream, where everything is as it was, he can pretend for a few more moments that he isn’t alone.

Johnny runs ahead, and waits for him on the top of the hill. He takes his time walking there. Johnny is well-trained, he doesn’t run off without Ghost, even if he doesn’t give him voice commands. A pat on his thigh is enough to summon him.

Ghost hasn’t spoken since it happened. He’s not sure if he can at this point.

‘It’ happened a while ago. Months, maybe years ago, he’s not been keeping track of time. One day, he woke up, and everyone just… vanished. At first, he thought he was having a nightmare, and he kept waiting to wake up. And he waited. And waited. Eventually he had to accept this is reality.

He tried to find a reason, back in those first days. Maybe he was drugged, maybe he lost his mind.

Ghost remembered the stories his mom told him, of the reckoning. Of how all the good people will go to heaven, leaving the bad ones here on earth. If Ghost still believed in God, perhaps he would’ve thought he’s the only bad person, left here on earth to be punished for his sins.

In those first few days, he waved off that theory, thinking to himself this couldn’t be hell.

Now, though… hell is an apt label for what this place became.

Johnny barks at him, shaking him off his thoughts. Maybe this isn’t hell, if he’s allowed one companion.

The forest has grown a lot since it happened. At least one thing enjoys the sudden lack of humans in its vicinity.

Ghost would appreciate the clean air, the warm sun and birdsongs, the happiness of Johnny’s wagging tail, if he could appreciate anything at all. He doesn’t see much point to anything, to enjoying, to feeling, to living.

He thought of ending it all, many times. Thought maybe it would end this nightmare, that if he’s dead at least he can’t feel this emptiness, he can’t remember.

But thinking about how, if he were to go through with it, he would end up back here, finding himself stuck, forever doomed to roam this wasteland…

He prefers living with the possibility of dying. It gives him a strange sense of hope. Something he’s been dwindling on, as the days turned to weeks turned to months, to years.

Sometimes he feels as though Before happened a thousand years ago.

He doesn’t miss many people. The vast majority of faces have blended together long before everyone disappeared. The only ones he truly misses are taskforce 141, his teammates. Price, Gaz, Soap. He repeats those names every day in his mind.

It hurts to remember, but in a way it’s also his duty. He can’t let their faces blend with the rest. They deserve better.

They deserved so much more than he gave them Before. He wants to go back in time and punch his past self, for being so careless, so unfeeling towards them, when the 141 was the only place he could call home.

Now, After, he has no home.

They’ve been walking for a very long time when Johnny stops to sniff at something on the ground, probably feces of a wild animal. Ghost waits a while before he checks it out, after Johnny tries to get his attention multiple times. He walks around the dog and squints at the dirt.

Ghost instantly drops to his knees, pushing his face down to inspect it closer. His heart tries to climb out of his chest, and he feels tears welling up his eyes. Fuck, he might’ve lost his mind already, because this can’t be real.

Footsteps, boot marks. Human. Recent.

He and Johnny have been scouring the woods for hours now, the adrenaline Ghost got since he saw the marks still yet to fade. If there’s another person around here, he has to find them.

The notion that he just conjured it up in his deranged mind becomes less and less likely when he continues to find more signs that something, a human, has been here recently. Broken branches, too high for any animal to do, candy wrappers, knife marks, cloth pieces. Ghost feels a painful hope, sharp and spiky, wrapping itself around his heart like barbed wire.

He had hope, at the beginning. The rest of the 141 were on assignment when it happened, and so Ghost never had any proof they are really gone. He credits this fact to the way he’s been able to not lose his mind completely.

Johnny stills next to him, ears swiveling around as he listens to something. Ghost wishes he could ask the dog what he heard, but before he could dwell on that, Johnny started running, Ghost chasing after him.

Sharp branches cut his arms and clothes when he pushes through the overgrown trees, trying to keep Johnny in his sight, but too quickly Ghost loses sight of the dog, and he has to stop to take a breath. He remembered then that he didn’t eat or drink in the last few hours, mind and body only focused on the hope of finding someone.

Perhaps, he is losing his sanity.

Some far off branch snaps, and he instantly crouches to hide behind a bush. Old habits die hard and all that.

In the distance, he could hear something. Ghost understands there are two paths of action in front of him - run away or investigate.

Ghost, as he has nothing to lose and everything, everything to gain, starts slowly sneaking towards the sound.

He feels like puking when he makes it out, not because it disgusts him, but because his body simply can’t contain the sudden influx of emotions within him.

He hears humans. Speaking. In English.

As his mind tries to catch up on the fact, as Ghost lets himself indulge for a few moments in what could be the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, the voices drift away. Instantly, he jumps from his hiding spot, looking around, searching.

Nothing.

There was always nothing, wasn’t there? His cruel brain decided to give Ghost hope, just to rip it away when it was done toying with him. He sits back on the ground, tears streaming down his mask, but he is silent.

The world is silent.

Johnny returned to him while he made his way back to base. The sun was setting, and raindrops started drizzling the empty fields he once trained in. Ghost absentmindedly is reminded that the pipes have been rusting, and are due to burst at any moment and flood his room.

He couldn’t bring himself to care. Johnny will wake him up before it either way, the cricking sound sure to alert the dog.

The mud caked boots stay outside his door, and he collapses on the thin mattress. Ghost doesn’t bother doing anything else, he’ll survive one day with no water and food. Johnny curls up next to him, fur dirty and soaking wet, but Ghost still presses his face to it. It makes him feel less alone.

Sleep comes and goes throughout the night, dreams meld into reality, memories resurface and call for Ghost. Lie to him that they’re still here, speak to him softly in a way he doesn’t deserve anymore.

Ominous cricking wakes him for the final time, and Johnny bolts out of the bed and sounds half a bark. Something gives and the pipe snaps, but while he waits for water to drench him, Johnny runs out of the room.

Ghost feels his heart jump to his throat when he realizes the pipe burst in another room.

He springs out of the bed, feet sliding on the base floor as he runs a couple meters to the room next to his. The door labelled ‘Soap MacTavish’ has water leaking from under it.

Opening it reveals just how much damage the water caused. The bed is absolutely drenched, the closet next to it not faring much better. Those do not matter to Ghost, not as much as the items on the table do.

One day, after it happened, Ghost searched through his teammates’ rooms. He’s not sure what he wanted to find, perhaps he was just missing them a lot.

For each member, he left an odd shrine on their table. Price has his cigars, an extra bucket hat, and a few photos he took throughout his career. Gaz has the expensive tea he was apparently planning on surprising them with, as it was hidden under his clothes, and his sunglasses. Johnny’s is made of the Ghost Team mask he kept, his personal file, and his journal.

All of which, are now ruined beyond repair by filthy, sewage water.

Ghost’s hands are shaking as he reaches for the journal, which took the brunt of it. The pages are stuck together, and he fears if he opens it, they would fall apart. The name etched on the cover is still legible, and that’s the only comfort he can take from it now.

Inside it were drawings, places the 141 went to together, and portraits of the members themselves. They didn’t take a lot of pictures together - elite taskforce and all that, and so the sketches inside were the only true memory he had. And now he doesn’t.

The mask is a little wet, but it will dry. It will be fine.

In the personal file, Ghost didn’t have much he doesn’t remember by heart at this point. At the start, he used to go through and memorise every single detail from everyone’s files - date of birth, past missions, blood type - and at this point he could write a new one from scratch.

No, what was important for him in Johnny’s file was his photo. A small passport one, where he almost smiles to the camera, in a way that brings Ghost back to how he used to see it every morning. How fucking lucky he was back then, and he never appreciated it.

He holds the small photo up, and chokes on nothing when he sees how mud and grime covered most of his face, leaving only one, blue eye staring at him. Something about it almost feels judging.

And in his mind it does, it’s angry and accusing, it’s asking why he let this happen, when he knew the pipes would burst. How could he be so bloody stupid, so careless, as to let what little he has of Johnny left be destroyed?

Ghost sinks to his knees, cradling the photo to his heart, uselessly trying to wipe the dirt off it, adding more water to the room. Johnny comes to whine next to him, nudging his hands and shoulders, but he’s too far gone in self-hatred and regret.

How much more can he already lose?

Eventually, he gets up. Shakes off the water, and goes to find something to soothe the ache in his stomach with. Johnny left a while ago, probably let himself out on a walk. Another being Ghost disappointed today.

He rummages through the canteen, where he stores all the food. Electricity stopped a while back, and he didn’t know how to operate the generators. He’s been meaning to learn, but…

Nothing feels real as he walks around gathering random cans and tins. It’s almost like he’s not in control of his body anymore. He feels empty, inside and out.

Ghost munches on what could be tinned apples when Johnny barks outside. The sun is just starting to rise at this point, and Ghost thinks he’s probably just chasing an unfortunate squirrel, but the dog comes rushing into the canteen, and barks at him.

The dog is unwilling to accept his disinterest, as it starts to grab at his pant leg and pull him off the bench. Ghost pushes his head away and sighs. He supposes he could follow Johnny to whatever he wants to show him. Perhaps it would distract him from the black hole in his heart.

They walk through the forest yet again, Johnny running ahead and coming back, trying to urge Ghost to run, but he’s too tired. The dog is unrelenting, though, and so he keeps walking.

The forest has a clearing nearby, a place with soft grass and little white flowers, that in the summer looks like it’s out of a movie scene. He remembers Johnny drew it in his journal, and his stomach churns and aches.

Ghost stops dead in his tracks when they get closer. He looks up to see smoke coming from the clearing’s direction. Could there be a forest fire? Did a rogue lightning light the grass on yesterday’s storm?

He starts walking with more purpose now, Ghost can’t let another thing be destroyed by his inaction. Johnny loves the forest, and Johnny loved it.

The dog runs off again, and Ghost hears something yelp in surprise. It sounds… so achingly human.

What he stumbles into, when the clearing is in sight, makes him want to turn away, to run, to rush into.

The source of the smoke turns out to be a campfire. Around it are three tents, so very clearly military issued. A man stands outside, on his back, as Johnny is licking his face. The man laughs, and the other two tents rustle.

One of them opens, and a second man calls for the one being assaulted by the dog. He seems happy to see him, and Johnny runs to greet him as well.

A third man joins them, visibly older and crankier at the occasion. He quiets down soon enough, when Johnny comes along to be pet by him.

Ghost’s heart, which was empty and bled dry, collapses on itself. He’s breathing heavily, the edges of his vision swim. These men, they look… they sound like…

Johnny is finished with his warm welcomes, and decides to run back to Ghost. One of the man breaks away from the group to chase him, smiling as he calls the dog back.

Ghost is frozen in place, even when Johnny licks his hand to get him to move.

The man gets closer, and Ghost feels water run down his cheeks, blinded by blue eyes and warhawk, smile lines and a scarred chin.

He halts, those blue eyes (that Ghost has never forgotten, will NEVER forget), stare, wide and full of emotion, full of life.

The man speaks.

“... Simon?”

And the world is no longer silent.

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