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madwomansapologist · 4 months

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blossoming alone over you

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: It doesn't matter what their first impressions of you were, they certainly did not expect you to be so important in their lifes. And as the days passes, each one of your companions need to understand a simple fact: they love you. They all love you.

warnings: it's 31st december. i'm drunk. song "pink on the night" by mitsky for wyll. song "working for the knife" by mitsky for astarion. song "abbey" by mitsky for shadowheart. companions (wyll, astarion, shadowheart) x druid!tav. background cast (karlach, kagha, halsin, lae'zel, gale, cazador). tav is used as a nickname. wyll stuttering. astarion seeing draws of himself because he fucking deserves it. shadowheart falling for a druid that can turn into a wolf.

Trust betrayed, secrets spread, lies disguised as facts. That's how life works. It gives you hope, then crushes it front of your eyes. It let's you reach your goal, just to rip it out from your bare fingers.

The cruelty of life is the ultimate sign that gods do exist. There must be a higher being watching its puppets pathetic attempts of conquering an unreachable happiness. There are other proofs, but that's the easiest to perceive.

And they were used to it. From the renowed Blade of Frontiers to the pale elf hiding in the shadows: they all knew what to expect from life. Dishonest agreements, stolen hearts, the cold embrace of loss. Life is painful, so they shielded themselves from any harm.

But not you.

At first they assumed you were naive. The things Shadowheart thought to herself when you reached for a hand stuck in a portal; or how easily Astarion deceived you when he thought you were a mind flayer; even Wyll judged you from time to time.

You let your guard down easily. Instead of protecting yourself, you were helping others. Instead of using your teeths and claws to get what you wanted, you preserved nature.

But naive you were not. You may have trusted them too easily, but you weren't blind. You knew when a question was a order, when a joke was a threat, when a smile was just sharp teeth showing.

You discovered what Astarion really was and demanded he wouldn't maim anyone that didn't deserved it. You convinced Wyll that the evil he so wanted to tear apart was a victim. Saw right throught Kagha's distorted teachings, don't matter how alluring they sounded.

To turn a foe into a friend was your instinct, but you were not hesitant to solve problems with violence if it was needed. And sometimes you even got pleasure from it.

Wyll will never forget your face after finding out about Kagua's deal with the shadow druids. You didn't even allowed the party to rest. All your party received from you was an order to clean the ivy from their weapons.

"Shouldn't we focus on freeing Halsin? He must understand Kagha better than us," Wyll pointed. "You're a druid, but that doesn't mean the groove sees you as one of them. But they will hear Halsin."

"She can hear me," you slammed your staff on the ground, giving strength to your certainty. It pulsed with energy, and its glow matched the beat of your heart. "Or she can die. I can grant her mercy, but I won't give her time."

Wyll felt his body getting warmer, Shadowheart's impressed whistle reached his ear. "O-Of course," he cleared his throat. "After you."

"We'll purge some rats," you smirked at him. It didn't feel threatening. "Can I count with your blade?"

"Always," Wyll answered you, staring at your back. He could stare at your back all day. And he meant it.

Seeing that you weren't naive, Astarion came to a conclusion about you. Meanwhile the Blade of Frontiers stopped seeing your benevolent acts as a signs of impulsivity, the pale elf saw them as a mask. Something meant to cover what others should be paying attention to instead.

After all, who would suspect that something is rotten when the scent is sweet?

You're beautiful. Astarion admit it. Your laugh reverberates through the forests, your tiredness calls for aid, your eyes attract and soothe. Beautiful faces can make up for dirty minds, soft words can hide the lack of a heart, pretty acts are easier to see than destructive intentions.

You're just like him. Astarion sees it, clear as the sea. Your delicate smiles and his gaze full of lust are just as fake. Your sweet words and his dirty innuendos are both rehearsed. In need of this party, it's not hard to understand why you two would act to ensure they don't ever leave.

When Shadowheart cures you first, Astarion's invisible reflection occupies your eyes. When Lae'zel attacks monsters aiming at you, he's your shadow. When Gale puts more food on your plate, Astarion can see his smile on your face.

He wouldn't be surprised to find out that you both look the same.

One may say that your corrupt intentions are nothing compared to the good you've already done, but Astarion is not so idealistic. Sin stains your good deeds, he can see it. You depict yourself as someone better than them, better than him, but that's just your depraved plan to survive.

And he can't blame you. It's working perfectly.

Astarion may despise you for being as dirty as himself, but he respects that part of you. He trusts your plans, your combat skill, your magic. You're good on what you do. Screaming instructions to help during fights, discovering hidden passages, trading for better weapons.

You're not a good person, but there's a reason for why you survived this far. You're competent. That Astarion can respect. That's why he's constantly trying to get on your good side. You are smart and strong. Maybe strong enough to rip Cazador apart.

And if you haven't realize that Astarion is putting on an act to win your heart, than the shame is on you for not realizing that you both are the exactly same thing.

But you had to show him how wrong he was.

At midnight you approached his tent with your sketchbook. Astarion thought you wanted a distraction, using your drawings just as an excuse to talk a bit. Gods know he was dying of boredom before you appeared.

"I didn't knew you were so talented, darling," he praised you.

Illuminated by candles, Astarion let his guards down. Instead of just saying the right thing at the time, Astarion was really impressed at your skills.

It must be nice. To be able to create things with your bare hands. Sometimes he cry at the start of a good book. He don't know why, but it must be because he too would like to be making things. Astarion thinks that creating is the ultimate sign that you're alive, instead of just surviving.

Maybe one day he can become a poet.

"I can't help but notice that you have a muse," it was clear someone had attracted your gaze. Maybe a dear friend you miss, or perhaps another competitor for your attention. "Should I worry about being replaced?"

Astarion expect you to flush, but all you did was to get... softer? You seemed to shrivel up.

Your mouth dried up. He doesn't even recognize himself. Astarion don't even remember how he looked like.

"That's you, Astarion," you told him. "And that's a gift. You helped a lot these past months and... All I'm trying to say is that I'm grateful."

It was the first time you saw Astarion in silence. Paper by paper, he admired your drawings. Do they look bad? You've spent a lot of time training to be able to create something worthy of his beauty, but you admit they're not perfect.

Or maybe it isn't the quality. It's the fact that you spend so long drawing him. How many hours did you spend on those sketchs? How many hours did you spend glaring at him from your tent? Does he feel ofended? Invaded?

"That's how you see me?" Astarion whispered.

You barely heard his words.

"Yes, Astarion," you licked your lips. "I know some can be..."

His hand on your thigh stopped the rant you were about to go on. His bloody eyes were sharp. Just like the day you first met him, his dagger against your throat. Astarion looked pleased, but not happy.

As if he discovered being right about something he rather not be.

What you gave him... this is a treasure. So many drawings, so many angles, so many poses. How many centuries has it been since he last saw himself? How many since Astarion forgot his own face? Sometimes he touches his face, trying to picture it, but his imagination isn't good.

You gave him something priceless.

And when something is priceless that people discover how sunk in debt they really are.

"And now you want me to pay you back," his husky voice made shivers went down your spine. His nails scratched lightly your skin, drawing shapes on your thigh. "Don't you?"

You jumped from your spot, getting away from him. You were flushed, but not in a good way. "From where I came from," you breathed in. You sounded offended. "Something that puts you in debt isn't a gift."

As you turned over to go to sleep, you felt that if you didn't say what you really thought you would end up exploding. You know you don't have the right to speak about his life, but that didn't stopped you.

"Cazador made you believe that you have to sell yourself to be worth of anything, but he's wrong. He was wrong since the very start. We'll lacerate that monster for what he did to you. And that I promise you: it won't be fair. Cazador don't deserve fair."

You felt your nails digging the skin of your palms. "That was a gift. Get used to it."

Maybe Astarion was wrong about you. And maybe he was wrong about himself.

Merciful, but not weak. Gentle, but not naive. Pleasing, but not manipulable. You were a walking question mark. Whenever they thought they understood what you were, you proved them wrong. Not impulsive. Not manipulative. Not stupid.

Until they came up with a word that described you too perfectly. A word that didn't need any buts or explanations. One that everyone cognize, but that isn't used often. That don't deserve to be used often.

You're kind.

It's in your nature to be considerate. You help others because you can. No. Wrong. And that's something that Shadowheart still don't really understand: you help others because you can, so therefore you should.

She has only one goal in mind. Shadowheart needs to make to Baldur's Gate with the mysterious artifact in safety, and if she does everything right... maybe her Lady will grant her what she truly want.

But you make Shadowheart forget about all that.

She must be discreet, she did that her whole life, and still Shadowheart finds herself talking about her goddess to you. Her mission depends on her going straight towards Baldur's Gate yet there she's, following you as you try to solve everyone's problems.

Shadowheart didn't even noticed. She didn't made a rational choice to open herself to you. She just did it. Almost as if you were fundamental part of her forgotten past and her heart couldn't do nothing but to trust you.

You impervious into her prayers. Invaded her dreams. Burned your mark inside her mind. Your name feels like honey on her tongue. Like a sweet treat that she can never get enough of.

You tempted her, luring her with your determination and grace, and Shadowheart proved herself sinful once again.

If only you had judged Shadowheart for her loyalty to Lady Shar. Asking her what her favorite flower is. Listening to her opinions. Even when she was nothing but distant and cold, you were sweet. Toothaching sweet.

Shadowheart was hungry. She'd been hungry for her whole life. Starving for something easy. Something raw. Something more than a beautiful concepts. Something real. And how could a starving person ignore a banquet?

She can't. Shadowheart couldn't. But she should've. Damn, she should've.

You're testing her faith. Constantly. Every smile, every vulnerable look, every act of protection. It's like you're trying to compete with Lady Shar for the control over her mind. Sometimes it feels like you're winning.

She was admiring the sky without stars when the wolf came. All it took was a sight to paralyze her. Shadowheart had a mace, but the weapon was useless in her trembling hands.

The giant beast, wool pale from the moonlight, foamy drool dripping from its fangs. In a golden glow that being of darkness transformed into something.

Into you.

"It's just me," you whispered to her, eyes wide with worry and blame. "I didn't... You're safe. You're fine."

She forced herself to unclench her jaw. "Don't tell any of them," Shadowheart hissed as soon as she knew she could speak without stuttering. "Let this fear I have stay as a secret."

"As you wish," was what you said. No questions, no jokes, no provocations.

You went back to rummage through lost boxes and barrels in the ruined village. You had goblin's blood staining your face, but it didn't seen to bother you. "I wish I had a bag of holdings," you murmured to yourself.

Shadowheart was grateful. Either you decided to change the subject to cease her embarrassment or you just were this easily distracted, it still meant something. Her flushed cheeks went unnoticed.

She leafed through some damp books, trying to find something useful. "Embrace loss," she murmured to you. Now your attention was back on her. "We'll never let you have one."

You gasped. "Moon, why is that?"

Shadowheart ignored how breath turned into a difficult task when you used that new nickname.

"Face it, Tav," she called you by the nickname Gale created to you. "You are a compulsive hoarder. I've seen you keep a rotten apple in your pocket."

"I thought it could be useful!"

Shadowheart smiled. She did not even realized she was smiling. "I bet you did."

You have a soft spots for battles you can't possible win, protecting people in need and turning foes into friends. And apparently you are their soft spot.

Part 2!

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monzabee · 1 year

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you'll change your name or change your mind - cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you find your way back home, even if the journey takes longer than you think.

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!bianchi!reader

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: mentions of jules and his accident, ANGST, talks about college acceptances in the US but it’s not accurate because i’ve never applied for US schools, mentions of alcohol and underage drinking/clubbing (only in the US though), mentions of a fake id, mentions of cheating, fighting, charles being stupid and not realising it, talks about processing grief, GRIEF, survivor’s guilt, talks of therapy, friends to lovers y’all.

Request: “The Charles fanfic was so good!! Can you write more angsty but happy needing Charles? I think it’s be cute for a man who loves Monaco so much to got to wherever his girlfriend lives Ike London or nyc often and deal with that. Maybe she hates monaco lol” + “if your requests are still open, max or charles + “you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.” thanks!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i decided to give into the whole angst thing and i can honestly say that i’m having a great time. i wanted to include Jules somehow in this one because i’ve been seeing some edits on tiktok and let me tell you proofreading was a bitch because i kept crying. also, my spotify kept bringing up lorde and hannah montana songs, so there you go. this was definitely a hard one to write and i know it’s messy, but all feedback is appreciated. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Monaco is full of memories. It’s filled with memories of your childhood, your parents picking up you and your siblings from school in Nice, and getting the train to Monaco for your brother to compete in karting races. It’s filled with laughter, and ice cream, and friends. It’s also filled with fears, loss and uncertainty, and you suppose that’s why you didn’t ever want to go back. But you find your back there every time, even if it is only for a couple of days at a time. Although it reminds you of the bad times, it’s hard to erase the good ones completely.

Charles is just one of the people Jules brought into your life. He was right there since your birth – apparently, the Leclercs were visiting your family in Nice when your mother suddenly went into labour. You will always be thankful to Pascale and Hervé for stopping Jules from choosing your middle name to be Michael Schumacher. Neither Charles, nor you will forget the type of shenanigans you got up to as little kids, there is only a year difference between the two of you after all. There’s that one time you stole Charles’ kart and tried to go down the road, in which he caught you but instead of ratting you out to Lorenzo and Jules, who were supposed to be looking after you by the way, he helped you get it down the stairs and passed you his helmet as he explained how to go about it. Neither of your brothers were impressed by your ability to go fast or Charles’ sudden interest in maybe becoming a race engineer if the whole driver thing doesn’t work out. There was also the time when the two of you, along with Arthur, snuck out from a family friend’s wedding to only get lost in a city in the South of France; Charles got so stressed that he forgot how to speak French and proceeded to ask how to get back to the venue in Italian for the rest of the night. Needless to say, the two of you are there for each other no matter what; you stayed together through heartbreaks, wins, losses, losing Jules and Hervé, funerals, weddings and much more. The majority of your time together is spent in your family’s house in Nice. Charles doesn’t mind the half-hour journey, an hour if he decides to go back but he hardly ever does. Sometimes, he manages to convince you come to Monte Carlo for the day by bribing you with promises of sunsets and ice cream, but he will always drive you back if you insist you want to go home without any complain.

The first time you bring up the topic of moving, you’re in your last year of high school; by that time, Charles is already racing in Formula One, so your time together is limited to breaks between the races. However he tries his hardest to be there for you, from talking you through breakdowns that occur after long study sessions, to looking up pre-med programmes for you to apply all over the world. You never wanted to live your entire life between Nice and Monte Carlo in the first place, so is he is more than happy to help you explore your options. Your application results arrive when he’s on break between the races, so the two of you sit on the small table in his Monaco apartment’s kitchen, the light from your laptop lighting up both of your faces as you open up the emails one by one. You’re most anxious about your application to Columbia, which is 3.462 miles away from Nice, and 3.993 from Monte Carlo. By the time you finish opening up all the emails, both of you are sitting there with a silence between you. The acceptance letter still open on your laptop is congratulating you for your offer to join Columbia’s pre-med program the following September.

“Yes,” He looks at you expectantly, “Accept it, Y/N, you shouldn’t be even thinking about it!”

“Yes?” You let out a nervous laugh. “It’s not that simple, Charles–”

“But it is!” He argues, a big smile on his face. You can tell he is proud of you by the look in his eyes and the way his emotions carry through his voice. “It’s your top choice of school!”

“It’s also in New York, it means that there will be an entire ocean between us!”

He shrugs. “So?”

“So?” Your eyes widen in surprise, you start staking your head a little without being aware that you are doing it. “Doesn’t that scare you?”

“Chérie,” Charles coos, pulling your chair by its leg to bring you closer to him and wrap a supportive arm around your body. His chest rumbles from his low laughter as he presses kisses to your hair. “We’ll be fine, look at everything we’ve been through, and we’re not even that old.”

You scoff, hitting his chest in an attempt to get away; you start furiously typing on your computer. “You are old,” you point to him with a tilt of your head, “I’m not, though.”

He rolls his eyes and turns his concentration to the tab still open on your computer, “You’re going to accept the offer, though, right?”

You end up accepting the offer. Charles and his family is there alongside yours to send you off on a plane to New York City. Both your mother and Charles’ have tears in their eyes as they say their goodbyes, with your father giving you a similar look. Being the youngest of four siblings, it must’ve been hard to send their youngest all the way across an ocean, but they let you know that you have their support in every step of the way. With Charles’ schedule for the remaining races scattered all over the world, he tells you not to force yourself and to enjoy your first months as a college student.

You surprise him in Austin, though. Arranging this surprise is definitely not the easiest, but you ask Lorenzo for his help and he is more than happy to make arrangements for you. It’s the end of Friday’s last practice session when you surprise him in the Alfa Romeo garage. He almost walks past you, to get rid of his helmet when you say his name, but once he realises it is you he quickly pulls in for a hug. “What are you doing here?” He asks you while laughing with glee.

“Heard there’s an immunology seminar in town about the effects of talking a shower and then going out without drying your hair.” You answer with all the seriousness you can muster.

“Really?” He asks in confusion, taking his helmet and balaclava off and trying to fix his sweat-soaked hair.

You hit the back of his head lightly, shaking your head in disbelief. “No! I came here to see you race, you idiot!”

He shakes head in understanding. “Oh, oh!” His eyes widen once again with recognition this time.

“Yes, oh, now come on, we’re going out.” You’re quick to add, “To dinner because airplane food sucks. We’re going out clubbing after the race, though.”

True to your word, you go clubbing after his race on Sunday, which Charles is not entertained by. He’s paranoid by the fact that you are in the club with them in the first place, which should not be happening because you’re underage. He keeps silent as you show the bouncer your id, which he knows is a fake, by the way; as he sends Lorenzo an incredulous look, his older brother’s reaction consisting off a shrug of the shoulders makes him more paranoid.

“Y/N, you should not be drinking.” He voices his concern, as you’re on your second drink of the night. “This is wrong.”

“How is this different than me drinking back at home?” You argue with your eyebrows raised. “You don’t tell me I can’t drink when we’re back home.”

“Because it is legal for you to do so there!” Charles exclaims, somehow gathering the attention of some of the clubbers nearby, but he offers them an apological smile and then turns back to you with his voice lowered. “You’re not twenty one, ergo – you shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Pfft,” You shrug him off, “You’re stupid, and I’m bored. You want to dance?”

You help Charles to move into his flat in Italy when he starts racing for Ferrari. Though he still lives in Monaco full-time, he rented a small place in Maranello to stay when he’s travelling. It’s an emotional event, which has both of you sitting on the floor of his new apartment going through boxes of old photographs. He finds one of his brothers and Jules with you, standing in front of a karting ring with big smiles in all of your faces. You fingers involuntarily trace over your brother, your eyes misting when you think about the day.

“He was so young,” You whisper, having to swallow a sob which threatens to escape.

Your eyes linger on the photograph for a while, and Charles quickly understands that you were not talking about the photograph as the tears you were trying to hold back find their way onto your cheeks. “He was.” He agrees; there aren’t enough words in the world to describe what losing a family member does to a person, and he understands you in a way most people cannot.

You offer him a sad smile through your tears. “He would be so proud of you.”

“He would be also so proud of you,” He whispers right back, leaning closer to you so that he could wipe away the few stray tears. “In fact, I am pretty sure he is.”

“Stop it.” You laugh softly through your tears as you push yourself to get off the floor, and dry under your eyes with your fingers as you look across the room. “Oh my god, Charles, we have so many boxes to go through.”

He gets up after you and looks around the dusty living room as he attempts to get rid of the dust on his clothes. “We do, don’t we?” He watches as you kneel in front of an unopened box and slice through the tape with a knife, and starting to go through the items in the box. He watches you go through the items silently for a while, noticing how seriously you take the task. His eyes linger on the frown on your face for a while, the way your eyebrows scrunch in question, or how you tuck a stubborn piece of hair, which escapes from the braid in your hair, to the back of your ear. He stalks closer, gently gripping one of your wrists and pulling you to your feet. “Dance with me.” He asks – which comes off less as an ask and more of a demand, which causes you to playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Charles, the boxes–” You try to argue.

His laugh is laced with mischief. “The boxes will still be there, chérie, just one dance won’t change anything.”

You try to come with arguments in your head but all your attempts are quickly thrown out the window when you realise just how green Charles’ eyes actually are. “We don’t have any music.” You try to offer as a measly argument.

Charles raises his eyebrows as he wraps his arms around your waist after making you wrap yours around his neck. “We don’t need any music, Y/N.”

So you give up in any attempts in stopping him, as he starts to slowly sway both of your bodies from side to side. You let out a chuckle when he stars, terribly, humming to an old song you used to hear on the radio. “This is stupid.” You mumble as you keep up your pace with his movements.

“You seem to keep calling me that.” Charles recalls, making both of you laugh in recognition. “I need to tell you something important.”

“So tell me,” you encourage him, motioning him to continue.

“I met someone.” He announces, a small smile playing on his lips.

You breath get stuck for a moment, in which you remind yourself that Charles is waiting for your reaction – most likely a supportive one at that. “Wow, Charles.” You breath out and give him a smile, which you successfully manage to pass off as a supportive one, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice breaks off in the end. “I’m so happy for you.”

You’re not stupid – thinking that either of you could stay single forever is an unrealistic one. But it hurts to imagine him with another person while he looks at you like that makes a part of you crumble up into a ball on your bed and cry. And that’s just what you do when you go back to the hotel that night (because the house is still unliveable when the two of you decide you’re done for the day). You try to keep your sobs as quiet as possible because you know Charles is in the hotel room next to yours. As you’re looking out the window, watching the night sky light up with stars in Maranello that night, you tell yourself you, somehow, need to move on from your best friend.

The next time you see Charles is during Christmas time. You have a tradition – Lorenzo, Charles, Jules and you, a tradition, which Arthur joined once he was old enough. It’s a peculiar one. While it’s not uncommon for most families to watch Christmas movies during this time of the year, your choice of movie has not Christmas elements in it at all. Every Christmas, the four of you watch The Sound of Music. It’s a silly tradition which was born out of boredom and lack of movies one Christmas, but it’s a tradition you managed carried out every year.

You can still remember Lorenzo complaining because “It’s three hours of songs about whiskers and bass clef.”

While Jules gives his best friend an unamused glare, both you and Charles try to mimic the Frenchman who you idolise. “It has nuns, songs, Nazis and familial love, Lorenzo, what more could you ask for?” He shrugs as he turns his attention back on screen, “Plus, Julie Andrews is hot.”

“Why would she be hot?” You remember asking, the woman on the screen not seeming uncomfortable by the weather.

“No reason,” Jules assures you, wrapping one of his arms around you.“Watch the movie, shortcake.”

And yes, while it might be stupid to watch the same movie, which has no Christmas value at all, every year on Christmas day, it’s a reminder that you have each other even if you’re not always together. So when you sit down to watch the movie that Christmas, there is a bad feeling in your stomach when you realise Charles is not there to watch it with you. If his brothers also find it weird that he’s not there they don’t make a comment, neither do you, for that matter. You try to push it to the back of your mind and enjoy the moment, telling yourself that even if this is a tradition between the four of you, it’s not the end of the world if you fail to do it. So you smile, and have fun throughout the day – when you’re watching the movie, or when you decide to hold a gingerbread house competition (Arthur wins, by the way), or when you sit down to have dinner with your families, and it makes you feel a thousand times better.

It’s late when he comes home that night, Lorenzo and Arthur have already passed out on the couch with you trying to read the anatomy textbook on your lap in the low light.

“Hi.” He greets you as he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

“Hi.” You whisper back, trying not to wake up the boy sleeping next to you. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, it was a good day.” He answers truthfully, and then motions the book resting on your knees. “Aren’t you going to go to sleep?”

“No, I think I’m going to stay here tonight.”

He doesn’t argue as he presses a kiss on your temple. “Okay, good night, chérie.”

One thing about Charles, is that he is very secretive about his relationships – to the point where he won’t introduce someone to you or his family if he doesn’t think the relationship is going somewhere. So, when he brings over Charlotte for lunch the next day, there is a buzz around the house. The lunch goes well, you think. Charlotte is sweet, and the two of you talk about many things including your universities; she’s very impressed that you want to go into the medical field and you tell her that architecture must be a pain in the ass to study and she agrees with a loud laugh.

When Pascale asks them what they did for Christmas yesterday, Charlotte leans against Charles’ arm as she answers, “Oh, nothing. We just stayed home and watched that old movie – what was it again?”

“The Sound of Music.” Charles answers, his eyes are focused on his hands, and you know this, because your eyes don’t heave his frame until Arthur forces you to carry the dishes into the kitchen.

“We’ll do them, maman,” he announces when Pascale attempts to tidy up the dishes, “Y/N will help me, won’t you?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nod, the voice coming off from you not matching the sunny disposition you present to the rest of the room.

You carry the dishes Arthur passes to you to the kitchen, holding your breath in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, and you succeed, too. At least until Arthur comes after you, carrying more dishes and places them next to the other ones near the kitchen sink. You start scrubbing them with intensity, your sniffles and the sound from water whooshing around in the sink filling the room. Arthur pulls you against him as you lean your forehead to his shoulder, or where you can on his arm due to your height-difference, as you start quietly sobbing. Arthur turns the tap on as he lets you cry into his shoulder.

The two of you return to the dining room after the dishes are done, and continue the conversation as if nothing happened. After Charlotte announces that she should be on her way, you walk her to the door with everyone, the two of you exchanging numbers as she makes you promise to go shopping with her the next time you’re in Monaco. You agree with a chuckle and tell her only if she teaches you how to draw because your “Anatomy notes are seriously suffering.” After she gives Charles a kiss and leaves, Charles turns to you.

“It’s just a movie.” He says in a low voice.

“You’re allowed to have fun with your girlfriend, Charles.” You assure him and pat his shoulder for good measure. Then, you turn to Arthur, who is watching the exchange with a confused look on his face. “Want to play a round before I leave?”

“Sure,” he agrees and the two of you move into the living room to play a round of F1 on the PlayStation. He sets it up for you as you try to get comfortable on the couch, trying to get rid of the feeling of unease as Charles watches you from the other side of the couch. “Who do you want to pick?” Arthur asks you, the cursor hovering over his choice – who is of course his brother.

You stay quiet for a moment and answer him in a calm voice, “Give me Max.”

Charles scoffs from the other side and pushes himself off, his arms crossed over his chest. “Rich, Y/N, just rich.”

“What?” you ask him with faux innocence and a shrug of your shoulders.

His voice is accusatory when he snaps, “Stop being childish for a moment.”

“Oh, I’m being childish?” You ask him, getting off the couch as well.

“Yes, you’re being extremely childish right now.” He agrees, nodding his head. “Glad we at least agree on that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask again while narrowing your eyes.

He scoffs, “It’s just a stupid movie.”

“I didn’t say a fucking word about the movie, Charles.” You point out, mimicking his pose as you cross your arms over your chest. In reality, it’s a short attempt at trying to hide your shaking hands. “But it’s not a stupid movie, it’s tradition.”

“Traditions can be broken from time to time.” He argues.

“I didn’t say they couldn’t.” You shrug, trying to appear indifferent to the man in front of you.

“Maybe if you tried to stick around for more than three days at a time, you wouldn’t be so upset about these type of things.”

Your mouth hangs open in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Charles, maybe you should–” Arthur tries to stop his brother, but Charles waves him off.

“Sometimes I think ‘Did I do something?’, but then I realise that maybe the problem is not me–”

Though you’re shocked by his words, you find yourself assuring him, “It’s not, it has nothing to do with you.”

Both you and Arthur can see something snaps in him, causing him to raise his voice. “Then what is it? Tell me so I can fix it and you can stop running away!”

You shake your head, your arms which are wrapped around you becoming tighter as an attempt to provide yourself some sort of protection. “You can’t fix it, Charles.”

His arms become undone as his fists ball on either side of his body. “You don’t know that–”

“No you can’t!” You scream, somehow more tears flowing from your eyes. “You can’t bring Jules back because he’s dead, and you can’t fix me because I’m not a toy! You think I want to live this way? You think I want to go back every damn time I set foot in this city because I just hate it here? I can’t bear the thought of staying here because of the fact that my brother died while I was here and I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.” You point a finger towards him, your voice gradually becoming louder to match his. “He was dead by the time I got back to the hospital and they told me he couldn’t hold on any longer, how do you think that makes me feel every time I feel like I’ve overstayed in this city, huh?”

“You need to stop living in the past, Y/N.” He shakes his head. “Don’t you see you’re letting the past hold you back?”

“‘Letting the past hold me back’ do you even hear yourself right now? I am trying my best to move on!”

“By moving across the ocean?” He asks you, “By leaving the people you love you behind?”

“You– you can do this!” You scream as you walk towards him and jab your finger against his chest. “You told me to take the offer, you told me to move away because you were so sure we’d be fine.”

“Well maybe I was wrong.” He whispers, grabbing both of your wrists to stop you from poking him and curling his arms closer to his chest.

Your eyes widen with a furious look in them, which makes him realise he sees more of Jules in them than before. “Screw you, Charles.” You struggle against his hold, hitting his chest with your fists with every word as you scream, “Screw you for trying to dictate how I process my grief, and screw you for acting so indifferent.” You win your struggle in the end, taking advantage of the fact that he is both distracted and speechless to get out of his hold and quickly grab your things.

“Where are you going?” He asks you as you’re putting your coat on.

“Anywhere but here.” You snap at him, refusing to meet his eyes.

Arthur quickly comes near you with a concerned look, “You shouldn’t be driving right now, at least let me drive you.”

You give him the warmest smile you can muster up, “I’ll be fine, ThurThur,” your eyes find Charles’ as you continue, “Don’t ever change, okay?”

After the disastrous Christmas last year, you two didn’t talk for a whole year, even though the people around you tried their hardest to bring you to talk to each other. Even Charlotte tried to trick you into spending time, claiming that she had a work emergency just as you arrived at the lunch you two scheduled to find Charles sitting there – you quickly left without being seen and spent the day walking through the marina because “Fuck Charles if he thinks you can’t spend more than three days in Monte Carlo.” He spends Christmas with Charlotte again, but unlike this year, you don’t feel sad about his absence, choosing to call it growth when reality it’s actually packing it away to deal with it another time.

The two of you eventually do make up, though, when you go to one of Arthur’s races to support him and run into Charles on the track. You talk between breaks, both of you succumbing and apologising to each other for the things you’ve said – him more than you, but you still apologise for the way you’ve acted afterwards. Arthur has a strange smile on his face when he finds you, releasing a relieved breath when you told him that you’re fine and you’re going to take baby steps.

“Good,” he smiles, “maman was about to lock you onto Charles’ yacht.”

Your therapist calls is ‘survivor’s guilt’. Yes, you have one of those now because although you want it to be false, you think a part of what Charles said might be right. She explains to you that it’s a natural response where someone has suffered a loss and you didn’t. This confuses you, though, because even if the loss in question is the death of your brother, you weren’t there to experience it with the rest of your family. Dr. Gambini is there to explain that “Although it implies experience, it doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t not feel the loss of something you didn’t get to suffer.” So, you go through the therapy experience to try to understand your own feelings, which makes you think maybe it is what you should be focusing on in the first place. It’s an overwhelming feeling, understanding things about yourself which you didn’t before – the things you used to feel slowly gain meaning as you go about it. You’re proud of yourself when you talk about it to your parents, and they tell you that they are proud of you for giving it a go. Charles joins you in one of your sessions – it’s Charlotte’s idea, actually. He tries to understand why, and how he can help you – he leaves the session feeling proud of you for taking care of yourself.

A few months later, you get a phone call from him when you’re in the middle of the week when you are studying, while all of your friends are away for spring break. His voice is thick with tears as he tells you that it’s over between him and Charlotte, but refuses to give you a reason when you ask why. It leaves you confused in New York, but when he asks you if you can come home for the weekend, you don’t hesitate to book a ticket for the next flight out. He’s shocked to find you standing in front of his door, but pulls you in for a hug anyway. Neither of you care about the duffel bag that hits the floor at your feet, even when you’re stumbling over it to get to him. You don’t talk, but hold each other throughout the night. He offers to cook for you, but you decide that ordering pizza is a better solution than trying to each what Charles attempts to cook. So, you end up deciding on pizza and a movie.

You look at him confused when you realise which movie he’s selected, “It’s not Christmas, Charles.”

He sits down on the couch, and pulls you under his arm as he reaches for the pizza box sitting on the coffee table. There’s a nostalgic smile on his face which you cannot understand. “I owe you two screenings of this movie, Y/N. Now eat your pizza and watch it.”

So, the two of you watch the movie in silence – with silently laughing in relevant scenes and Charles even attempting to sing the Lonely Goatherd, which leaves you in tears because of how much you’re laughing. At the end of the night he walks you to the guest room in his apartment and pulls you for one last hug, whispering, “Thank you for coming,” into your hair.

“Of course, Charles.” You whisper, turning your head and softly pressing a kiss to his shirt-covered chest. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.

He’s in the kitchen when you wake up in the morning, focusing so intently on something on his phone to notice you. You ruffle his hair as you make your way through the kitchen to make some breakfast for the two of you. “Good morning to you too, you grump.” You tell him, when you finish getting out the ingredients for the breakfast you have in mind.

“Morning, chérie.” He answers, in a non-committal voice.

“And to think I was going to make you pancakes.” You sigh as you halt the movement of your hands and lean against the counter.

A playful smile is on your lips when Charles excitedly raises his head. “Pancakes?” He asks in a soft voice.

“I was going to add chocolate chips, too, but you didn’t say good morning to me and now I don’t think I’m in mood to be honest with you.” You shrug, starting to put away the bowls you took out.

He quickly comes behind the counter to tickle some sense in you, and you use the bowl in your hands as a shield as you start laughing. He gives up after a while, pressing a kiss to your temple and fixing some of your hair which fell out of place during the ‘fighting’. “Good morning, how can I help you?”

“Wow, you actually want to help me cook for a change?” You coo, ruffling his hair again and hitting his hip with yours to get him out of your way. “Go wait on the other side, you grumpy baby.” He complies to your directions to sit on the other side of the island, but doesn’t bother with his phone this time. You make a motion towards his phone on the island with your head as you crack the eggs into the bowl. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just some problem with the car.” He answers. “I might need to go to Maranello for a day or two. When is your flight back to New York?”

“Oh– I can change it if you know the date–” You start to say, but he quickly cuts you off.

“What? No, I don’t want you to go back.” He quickly says, shaking his head. “I just thought you might want to come with me rather than stay here.”

“Oh,” You say, looking around. “It’s not a problem, I can stay and study.”

There is a confused look on his face. “Stay? Here?” He asks over and over again. “Here? Stay? Alone?”

“Yes, Charles, I can manage to stay by myself.” You sigh. “I did it last summer for a month, you can trust me, alright?”

“You were in Monte Carlo for a month, last summer? How did I not catch you at all?”

You let out another sigh, “In case you don’t realise, I’m very good at avoiding you.” You continue when he gives you yet another confused look as you start mixing the batter. “Charlotte told me to meet her at a restaurant but it was a set up for me to meet with you, so I got in the car and drove away. It was probably the closest we got to each other.”

“Wow.” He looks at you with wide eyes. “Just, wow.”

You roll your eyes and glare at him. “Stop looking at me like that. My classes are all online this semester and Dr. Gambini thinks it’s good for me to spend more time here; it’s supposed to help me get closure, or something.”

He gives you a big smile. “I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You ask him, his smile quickly mirroring on your own lips.

“Yeah.” He breathes out. “And you can stay here all you want! And cook me breakfast, you know.”

You let out a laugh this time. “I can get my own place, Charles.”

“But then who will cook me breakfast?” He asks with a small pout.

“You are a child, Perceval.” You laugh at the way he looks at you, with his elbows bent over the counter and his upper body leaning over the stove. “I’m only cooking you breakfast; you have to promise you won’t fall in love with me after this.” You joke.

You turn around to look in the cupboard for the chocolate chips as you hear him mumble, “Too late.”

You almost hit your head at the open cupboard door when you turn right back to look at him. “What?” You walk towards the island as you mumble out, “No, no, no, no, don’t say that. You just broke up with your girlfriend, Charles.”

“We broke up almost five months ago.” He announces, no hint of joking in his voice. “Right before the Abu Dhabi race.”

“That’s not true.” You say, shaking your head. “I spoke to Charlotte; she told me everything was fine.”

He shrugs, then offers you an explanation. “We announced it a couple of months later, but we’ve been broken up for a while.”

“But then why did you call me a couple of days ago to tell me it was over?” You ask him, visibly confused.

He looks guilty as he admits. “I– I don’t have a good answer for that.” He stalks over to the other side of the island again to trap you between himself and the marble in an attempt to prevent you from evading. “All I can say is that I love you.”

“Oh, wow.” You say, suddenly you can find the right choice for words. “Say that again for me?”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“Now in French?”

“Je t'aime.”

“In Italian?”

“Ti amo.” He laughs this time, leaning down towards you to bring his face towards yours. “You done?” You nod your head with a giggle escaping past your lips. “This would be a perfect time to say something, you know.”

“Oh, right.” You nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

“What?” He asks in horror.

“Yeah, thank you. You know, for the–”

“Chérie!” He exclaims with his eyes wide.

You continue your giggles as you place your hands on his cheeks and pull his face towards you, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you too, chez moi,” my home/place. The pancakes are long-forgotten when you pres your lips on his to give him a kiss, somewhere in the universe your twelve year-old is high-fiving with herself, but you are happy to be finally home.

#monzabee #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst

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obsidianstrawberrymilk · 2 years

Text

Assorted Batkid Headcanons

During the middle days of Damian being Dick’s Robin, he was still figuring out how to show affection in a nonviolent way, so he just kept getting Dick fish. His logic was ‘Grayson has issues taking care of himself, so I will get him a pet that even he will find easy to care for’.

As a result Dick has an entire tank of various fish, all named Jim after Jim Gordon.

Dick finds this hilarious. Babs finds this hilarious. She’ll casually mention something ‘Jim’ did in conversation with her dad and watch as he bluescreens.

Tim has the pallet of a five year old. All he likes are exceedingly sugary sweet foods everyone else wants to puke while eating.

As a result, all he drinks are those stupidly sugary energy drinks that leave you seeing god after a few minutes. Is this unhealthy? No, it’s a liquid, therefor water, therefor good - Tim Drake.

Duke has purposefully broken his wrist to see if he would light up like a glowstick before. It didn’t work.

Cass shows her affection through objects, so a Batkid will often walk into their residence to find something like a metal bottle cap or a feather neatly placed on their table, without any security triggered or any other indication anyone was ever here. They all know to treasure these, no matter what they are.

Jason, given he’s built like a tank, will often hold things out of reach from people just to Be An Asshole. He loves it.

Damian used the same method of affection on Steph when she was his Batgirl, but had a bit more faith in her ability to not let something die, so he kept getting her small rodents, like hamsters and rats. She named them all after characters from Supernatural.

Stephanie had a huge Supernatural phase when she was 13 and never really grew out of it. She’s tried out summoning rituals from the show before.

Every single Batkid had a Warriors phase. Every. Single. One.

Dick was SO FUCKING HAPPY when Duke showed up because he finally had a brother who would happily give him a hug without having a panic attack due to TouchFuckery.

Steph has referred to the Batfam as “Furry Touchfucked McNuggets” before. No one questions it because she’s right.

Babs has designated snacks for every occasion. Program Taking Too Long To Load is Cheetos. Bruce Being a Bitchass On the Comms is popcorn. Done With This Bullshit For Good, I Swear is Twix.

Tim’s Notes app on this phone is entirely filled with sleep deprived 4am rants about why Star Trek is the superior franchise. He’s very passionate about it.

One time Bart was bored so decided to raid the pantry and he found Damian crouched on one of the top shelves, hissing like a cat and clutching a box of Weetabix. He took a picture and now it’s the YJ discord group icon.

Not exactly Batfam but the YJ Core Four + Cissie have a discord group chat and Tim’s the mod.

Damian loves Weetabix. Idk if anyone else knows what that is but that shit was my fucking childhood so he loves it.

Duke has tried and is currently trying to unionize all the kid sidekicks. They’re getting there.

Jason’s favorite authors are Mary Shelley and Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice is his comfort book that he often reads after patrolling as way to wind down. He fucking hates Edgar Allan Poe with a passion for reasons he refuses to explain.

Cass will sometimes teach some dance moves to little kids while on patrol. Sure, she knows it’s not stopping violence, but when she sees another little girl with scars on her palms and wary eyes light up as she twirls in the air and laugh as she leaps, she thinks it’s worth it. More than worth it.

Jason’s found her doing this sometimes. Neither of them say anything.

The Batkids all love Jon. Yeah, move over Damian, don’t keep him all to yourself. They may have their own supers/alien besties, but Jon is just adorable, and they all want to smoosh the cheeks of a kid who won’t attempt to stab them for it. Look, he’s so cute. The day anyone bullies Jon beware, because the entirety of Gotham’s vigilante force will be there to wreak havoc upon you.

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prince-kallisto · 3 months

Text

Crowley’s curious eating habits and the significance of soup

This sounds really out there, but PLEASE here @moonlightequin1 and I out 😭😭😭 We had a very impromptu “theory” collab again, but to us it felt like less of a theory, and more of like…this is what is literally happening in canon.

Edit: Link to Ray’s Twitter thread that discusses what I did above the cut! ^_^

So I’ve been noticing that Crowley has mentioned soup or stew, especially in the manga and novel which came way after the initial in-game books. In the novel, he gives a soup pot to Yuuya, his unified exam voiceline has him trying out tomato stew, and in the manga, he says he was KIND enough to not turn Grim into stew. As if implying that if he weren’t so kind, he would’ve served Grim for dinner by now- fully capable of both cooking and eating a monster like Grim.

Crowley is very raven/crow inspired, and Ray and I think it’s more literal than just his outfit. We think these are a shared trait in Raven/Crow Fae. Because…Hm??? Crowley’s first instinct is to eat Grim- who is first believed to be a monster!! Perhaps this comes off as a joke at first, but in the second Valentine’s Day card merch, Crowley says he ate the gift that we gifted him. But…the thing is, it was an inedible object, and Crowley couldn’t even tell the difference. He even calls it DELECTABLE, but apparently it wasn’t food. He tries to save face by saying “…he was joking,” but the pause is very telling in that he did indeed eat the gift.

Ravens and Crows scavenge carrion and even literal garbage. What’s also interesting to note is that Crowley’s favorite food is “Wild Game,” which is wild animals that are hunted for consumption. As Ray put it, he likes his food fresh from the hunt. It feels very in-line with Crowley being a Raven/Crow Fae, but when you think about it…isn’t it a very odd specification? Crowley comes across (or at least tries to) as a gentleman. He even made the Culinary Crucible to encourage healthy eating habits for the students. Wild game is indeed said to be healthier, but when you consider that Crowley suggests eating a monster, and eating (and enjoying) inedible gifts, it seems like he can eat just about anything because of his own nature as a raven/crow.

But what about the soup? Considering that Crowley doesn’t really talk about food much, isn’t it interesting how nearly every time, it’s related to soup/stew despite it not being listed as his favorite food? Look at the screenshots above, and notice how he mentions soup in every single medium that Twisted Wonderland has been written in so far: The game, the manga, and the novel. Each a mention of soup.

Well, when I first mentioned this to Ray, I mentioned that Crowley’s mentions of soup reminded me of how General Lilia says that Levan summoned a pot to make soup for him and Meleanor. Because…of course I did lmao, I’m one of the resident Crowley-Levan theorists here! 🤣 But the more Ray and I discussed it (Aka freaked out lmaoo), the more we realized that this connection might be more important than we thought. You see, Levan was praised for this action, as Meleanor told him that he was “the only one he could rely on.”

And circling back to Crowley’s favorite food being Wild Game, and the implication that he genuinely thought about eating Grim who is a monster…General Lilia was in the habit of eating wild rats and lizards. And even now, Lilia’s cooking is pretty much inedible- where things get riddled with liver where it really doesn’t belong lmaoo.

When putting this all together, it all feels quite strange. Crowley can eat inedible objects and think it’s delectable, he repeatedly mentions soup/stew, his favorite food being hunted wild animals, and doesn’t seem to hesitate at eating a monster. And why not, Crowley’s was interested in tomato stew as Lilia’s favorite food is listed as tomato juice 👀

Since Ray and I love Crowley very dearly haha, we naturally go to an angsty direction with him when discussing our theories. But food is very strongly associated with memories and nostalgia. The experience of eating, especially with others, includes many of our five senses. Food can have you “relive” the emotions of a time you once experienced in the past. It’s often very symbolic of the experience.

Think of what the strawberry tart meant to Riddle, for example. Of the tart’s forbidden sweetness, of how he disobeyed his mother just wanting to be with his friends. Or even Malleus with his disliked food being “full-sized birthday cake” and his favorite being shaved ice, and how these experiences came from being alone on his birthday!

TWST uses food in their storytelling very deliberately- not only for backstory/memories but for character relationships. Think of how Cater pretended to like sweet things when in actuality he despised them and only Trey noticed it (relating to his own personality of being trendy and cool, but rather detached to the people around him), and sweet things brought back memories of how his sisters used to force him to eat sweets that he didn’t even like. OR how Kalim’s least favorite food is curry, because Jamil was once put into a coma after taste-testing Kalim’s poisoned curry. But hey, even though curry was banned in Kalim’s banquets because Kalim was so terrified from the incident, Jamil’s favorite food is curry anyway! Or Azul’s favorite food being friend chicken disliked food being “healthy foods” despite constantly eating it due to his weight insecurities. Jade and Floyd’s favorite foods relating to octopus. Trey and Vil even have stories as to why they hate MUSTARD AND MAYONNAISE respectively.

I could go on and on, but I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I refuse to say that “it’s just soup” or “it’s just wild game.” There’s a wide array of foods mentioned in the game, to the point of each character having their own unique favorite and hated food listed. There’s a story behind their preferences, to the point character relationships are established and strengthened through food.

This is not just for the students, but for the staff too. Trein’s vichyssoise establishes him as a traditional and old-fashioned (and “elegant”) man, Vargas’ raw eggs and Sam’s chicken gumbo connects them to the movies they’re twisted from (frog meat is said to have the texture and a bit of the flavor of chicken. So Sam’s favorite food being chicken gumbo is a sly way to imply the frogs from the film!)

And in the end, there is the soup, the tomatoes stew and juice, and the wild game meat. If something as specific as a full sized birthday cake means something significant to a character, why not the specification of wild game? It’s just…interesting that Crowley’s mentions of food ties back in some way with the very very few mentions that Lilia makes regarding Levan. Perhaps Crowley’s mentions of soup and wild game means more to him than first meets the eye? 🥣

Anyway it’s so over for me, local theorist crying over a bird eating soup 🧎🧎🧎🧎🧎

#warning yet another Crowley levan theory loll #twisted wonderland #twst #twst theory #dire crowley #twst dire crowley #twst Crowley #twst analysis #twst Lilia #twst Lilia vanrouge #twst levan #twst revan #kallistopost #crowley is levan theory

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meatonfork · 1 year

Note

Hey hey firstly absolutely adore your writing!❤️

Could I request the task force 141 boys with a reader that may not have the best relationship with their family members?(brothers in particular)

No pressure at all if you're uncomfortable writing this!!

Shame

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pairings: platonic 141 x grim

warnings: death, unhealthy coping mechanisms, abuse

summary: guilt and shame plague grim as they remember their late family

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guilt and shame of the relief flooding your veins hurts more than the grief of loss.

obviously, you’re devastated they’re dead. it’s been five years. five years to process. five years to cope. five years to get over it.

but, you can’t help but feel relief knowing you’d never have to see them again.

your family may be dead, but the pain they put you through never did. it burned.

just the thought of them made your hands shake.

remembering the abuse you went through.

of course you loved them. they were your family.

your family was well known in your small town. three children and a perfect marriage. a little home on the outskirts of town, a pet or two. you were the perfect family. to the outside peeking in.

but, your mother was in over her head. you’d often wondered why she even had kids. why she put you through what she did. why did she take her anger out on you? did you not try hard enough? were you not good enough?

physical, mental and emotional abuse was common from her.

but the worst part? your father.

he was never there. physically, he was.

your father was emotionally unavailable.

when you were younger, he’d take you on little trips. work on cars, and go fishing with you. as you grew older, and your siblings came along, it changed. he hardened and gave up, letting your mother do as she pleased.

you often left the house and ran around town. taking walks, spending days at a friend’s house, getting odd jobs here and there.

when you joined the military, lying about your age, you found peace and another family. one that loved harder than the one you had in your hometown.

a few months in, and they were dead.

today was the five year anniversary of their deaths.

you felt relief.

relieved knowing your siblings never had to endure the pain of your mother’s abuse, or your fathers neglect.

relieved knowing you’d never have to go through it either.

but, so much shame in feeling this way. it rattled your bones, sank in your core, and nested there. often times, you’d find yourself wishing it was you instead.

there you lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. lights off, blinds closed.

the only sound that rang throughout the small room was your sniffles.

the thought of your little sister being fourteen and your little brother being sixteen by now slammed into your tired mind.

with shaky hands, you wiped your face in frustration.

a raspy groan pulled from your chest, and you sat up.

tears of anger pricked at the corners of your mind, and small yell ripped from your throat.

“FUCK.”

you stood and paced the room, hands finding their way to your messy hair.

you’d practically raised those kids. taking them to school in the morning after helping them get ready. making dinner for them when your parents refused. taking the blame for little things when your mother was on a rampage.

you didn’t even register your fist hitting the wall until you looked down and saw drywall on the floor, a gaping hole where your fist was.

“shit.” a hiss came from your mouth.

you cradled your hand as you walked into the hall.

red rimmed your eyes, deep purple bags sat below them. your freckles stood out from how tired you were, littering your face. your hair was a rat’s nest, not bothering to fix it before you left.

your soft stomps echoed in the hall, distracting you from the pain emitting from your knuckles.

stopping in front of a familiar room, you gave a slight knock after shuffling your feet in hesitation.

a long moment went by, and you kicked yourself for even coming this way.

turning around, you start back down the hall to your room before the sound of the door opening stopped you.

“ya need somethin’ kid?” his gruff voice sounded behind you.

a sigh left your chapped lips before you turned around.

“i- i need help with my hand.” you cleared your throat, and raised your right hand to show him the damage.

his uncovered eyes took in your small figure that somehow looked smaller in the moment.

brows quirked, he noticed you were sinking in on yourself. making yourself seem smaller. ghost thought you looked like a small child.

“what happened?”

“turns out, a wall is not a very good punching bag.” you tried to make light of the situation.

“c’mon.” his head nodded, and he opened the door wider for you.

you followed him in, and he took you to his desk.

“why’d ya punch the wall? johnny piss ya off?” he started shifting through his desk, looking for a med kit. his balaclava covered up to the bridge of his nose, and with the lack of face paint, you noted his eyes were brighter.

“uh, no. johnny didn’t do anything this time, don’t worry.” your legs shifted as you got more comfortable.

he gently grabbed your hand after setting the med kit down, and started wiping it with alcohol.

“ow.” you let out a little hiss at the sting.

“m’sorry.” he all but mumbled out, not meaning it.

“you gonna tell me what happened?”

“i didn’t mean to, didn’t realize i punched the wall til i saw part of it on the floor.” you shrugged, avoiding the actual question.

“not what i’m talking about, you know that.” his movement halted as he looked up at you from where he knelt on the floor.

you shifted your eyes from his as tears pooled in them.

“mm. i think i hate myself. not physically, that’s not the issue. i hate my brain. and i hate the way i feel things. i hate i’m not normal. i should be disgusted with myself for feeling this way, yet i can’t find a way to.” tears streamed down your face, hiccups coming out between breaths. your heart clenched. saying the words out loud made it all the more true.

“what’re you talkin’ bout?” he continued wiping the blood and dust from your hand, eyes flicking up to yours every so often.

“i’m so fucking relieved they’re dead. and i shouldn’t be. i should be sad. but, i can’t bring myself to feel that way. my family’s fucking dead and i’m okay with it.”

he didn’t say anything for a hot minute, and you sat there wondering if he hated you as much as you did.

he finished wrapping your hand in silence as you sat there, bouncing your knee.

ghost swiftly put the med kit back before turning to you once more. a sigh left his lips and his eyes flicked to yours.

“listen, kid. i know how it is. judging from this,” he points at your being, finger waving over your face and stiff body, “they weren’t the kindest to you. been there. if this brings you peace, let it happen. because it did for me.”

you didn’t say anything, letting his words sink in.

“my old man was real piece of shit. he had it comin’”

“yeah, but my brother and sister didn’t. they don’t. they were just little ones.” your throat closed a bit, a lump taking over.

“i’m sorry. i really am, kiddo.” his hand found your knee.

“it should’ve been me.” a whisper left your mouth.

“absolutely not. don’t say shit like that. it shouldn’t have been you, and it wasn’t. okay? we want you here.”

you choked back another sob.

your head thumped against his shoulder and you let the tears fall.

“i’m sorry.”

“why’re you sorry for, grim. nothin’ to be sorry for.” he was stiff, but his hand raised to your back, rubbing gently.

“i don’t know. for them. my siblings. i fucking raised them, protected them from my parents, kids at school, strangers at the store, yet i couldn’t keep them alive.” your voice was muffled in his shoulder.

“we can’t save everyone, kid. i couldn’t. don’t expect yourself to.”

“i know. it hurts.”

“you gotta feel it.”

“i don’t want to sometimes.”

he chuckled, shoulder bouncing your head a bit, “no one does, sweetheart. c’mere.”

his body raised, and he stood. with open arms, he beckoned you over to him.

wiping your face, you dove into is his arms, face smooshed into his chest.

arms wrapped around your smaller figure, his head leaning on yours.

“stayin’ here tonight?”

“if you’ll let me.” you pulled back and gave a soft smile.

his eyes crinkled as he gave you one back, hand rubbing up and down your back, “course, kid.”

————————————————————————————————————————

a/n: i really hope you enjoyed this :’) a little self projection on this one

#grim au #john price #kyle gaz garrick #soap cod #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost #cod #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2022 #cod mw2 imagine #ghost cod #task force 141 #141 x reader #gaz x reader

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apoorhuman · 1 year

Text

So, some crack hcs because why not?

Don't attack me, I'm not that far into the og om

Lucifer, Diavolo, and Barbatos definitely has had a hard time adjusting on how to use d.d.d correctly like how simeon is in the first season, but Lucifer wouldn't admit it so he just locked himself in his room trying to figure out how to use d.d.d by himself and it's giving grey hair

Levi would always ask mammon to drive him somewhere because he doesn't want to walk or even take public transport when in the human world

Asmo 100% once ruined his relaxing bath, probably spill his scented candle and accidentally setting something on fire

I hc that Diavolo is a huge fan of either Shakira or Beyonce, and Barbatos would always walks on Dia dancing while blasting waka waka

Barbatos once almost set the whole castle or probably just the room big part of castle on fire after spotting and then seeing 3 rats eating together I mean same barbs I would too

Levi and mammon probably makes some iconic vines that nobody knew except for the both of them, when they saw some humans recreating it while visiting the human world they like to laugh and remember the good times back then

Even though belphie always fell asleep while cooking most of the time he would try his best not to fall asleep if he's cooking fo beel, but for Lucifer? Fuck it he's sleeping in the kitchen counter

Barbatos once jump to diavolo's arm on purpose because there was a rat near his feet at the time, the both of them agreed to not talked about that at all, but sometimes diavolo always told mc or Lucifer sometimes behind barbs back

Levi has a shrine for ruri, but not for being a simple but just admiring like a fan admiring their inspirational idol y'know?

Mammon would sometimes slip in to Lucifer's room but not because he wanted to steal something, sometimes he just wanted to check in on Lucifer, and most of the time he would found him sleeping on his desk

Asmo is a k-pop fan, not die hard but just like the songs and fashions, sometimes visuals too (he would not say that their visual is above him)

Satan and Levi definitely has a blank expression when they watched/read something spicy, but they will smile like an idiot in love if it's fluff

Asmo and Levi would be the ultimate karaoke duo

When mammon accidently hit a wall while running from levi, Levi would laugh at him like normal sibling do, but he would be lowkey worried

Belphie would sometime sleep walked, sometimes in mammon's floor room, sometimes in front of asmo's room, sometimes he walked in to Levi's room too, or on top of Satan's pile of books in his room, and Lucifer's bed, but most of the time he would ended up at either the planetarium or beel's bed cuddled up to beel

Hear me out, Levi listens to the living tombstone

Anyways that's all of my brainrot lol

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kyberrebel · 7 months

Text

Things that went through my mind during Ahsoka Episode 6

Ahsoka is talking about not having enough time to prepare Sabine to make the right choice about leaving to find Ezra, when I don’t think any amount of training could have changed her mind. Kanan’s gone, Hera, Chopper and Zeb are often off doing New Republic stuff. Even with Ahsoka back as her Master, she is probably still feeling extremely alone. She loves Ezra, and there is no way Ahsoka could have convinced her not to go.

“Perhaps for Sabine it was the only choice.” See, Huyang gets it

Huyang saying “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away” is making me laugh my ass off

It’s hilarious, yet makes me slightly uncomfortable, since Star Wars never really breaks the fourth wall

How dare they not let Sabine share a room with her new girlfriend, Shin

OKAY BUT SERIOUSLY. LOOK AT THE WAY SHIN LOOKS AT SABINE IN THE COCKPIT, I love my space lesbians

Wow, Shin has talked more in this episode than she has in the whole show so far.

Baylon DEFINITELY has his own plan he is hiding from Morgan and the witches. Can’t wait to see how that goes

SABINE IS FINALLY USING THE FO- oh, never mind

The shot of the battered Star Destroyer arriving combined with the music is giving me chills

Hey, those are some cool ass looking Stormtroo- OH SHIT ITS THRAWN

ITS ABOUT TIME

Such an amazing entrance into live-action for him. I feel it is definitely succeeding at letting casual, non-rebel-watching fans know how important and how big of a figure he is.

I’m sorry but he still totally looks like a blue Elon Musk.

Soooooo… Where’s Ezra?

I just know Ezra would love collecting all those cool Stormtrooper helmets

I don’t know what the rat-dog thing is but I love him

SABINE USE YOUR LIGHTSABER

Oh hey, she actually listened to me

Lars Mikkelsen is doing a great job so far at portraying Thrawn in live-action. His mannerisms and body language are just like they were in Rebels.

STOP YELLING AT THE RAT-DOG, SABINE, HE CAME BACK AND IS TRYING HIS BEST

No, but seriously Rat-Dog is adorable and I would die for him

*Me singing* Teenage mutant ninja turtles, teenage mutant ninja turtles!

TMNT-looking dudes know Ezra… Okay where is he then??

AGHHHJBJKSDK IT’S EZRA

EZRA I MISSED YOU *actually crying*

Ngl I’m kind of sad his hair isn’t blue BUT I’M STILL SO HAPPY HE’S HERE

We all needed that hug, let’s be honest

Rat-dog is called a Howler? Good to know.

I was so scared that Ezra would be all traumatized, depressed, and a shell of himself when we saw him again, I’m so happy that’s not the case. He seems to be doing great, all things considering

I wonder if Sabine will give him back his lightsaber, or if he has been using the force at all since he’s been gone.

I hate to nitpick, but, they made his eyes blue (which I’m happy about) but not his hair??

Oh right, for a few minutes, I actually forgot Ahsoka was on her way and that this was her show

Like how last episode was for TCW fans, this episode was for Rebels fans!! Another great episode.

#ahsoka spoilers #star wars #ahsoka tano #ahsoka #ahsoka show #ahsoka series #ezra bridger #thrawn

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soap143 · 4 months

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hiiiiii I was wondering if you would want to write about lee! hyunjin? maybe something similar the chan story but hyunjin has to paint while tickled or there's a belt that's ticklish which he has to wear while dancing??

if you don't want to you don't have to write it :)))

thank youuuu

AAAAH I love this idea! I hope you won’t mind that I wrote this for the “Eye for an eye” series. I just think this concept really fits in here. Happy reading! (just a quick lil reminder that you should read Challenge before or after this fic)

•• ━━━━━━━ •• ❖ •• ━━━━━━━ ••

Eye for an eye

pt. 2

lee!hyunjin

ler!chan

•• ━━━━━━━ •• ❖ •• ━━━━━━━ ••

Ever since Chan had gotten revenge on the first kid, the rest had been avoiding him in fear of being mercilessly wrecked. Minho, being the amazing lee he was, ratted out the leader’s plan immediately, causing everyone to never let their guard down.

However, this evening he was completely alone with Hyunjin in the dorm. Changbin and Han convinced Chan to stay home while they finish up all the work. The oldest smirked, plotting his sweet revenge…

He thought that Hyunjin was scrolling on social media or wasting his precious free evening doing something useless, but was pleasantly surprised to see the exact opposite “Woah, you’re… painting? Should I-” the kangaroo’s sentence was cut short as Jinnie groaned, throwing his head back in annoyance “Can you please leave? I’m really focused on finishing this painting. I’ll post it on instagram later for STAY to see.”

“God forbid me from disturbing you, my prince! Don’t you remember what you and the kids did to me last week? I thought Lee Know had told you.” Chan mocked, inching closer to his future victim.

“Haha, very funny. You can’t tickle me now. The paint. It’s gonna get everywhere. You’re gonna ruin my painting. I’ll die.” Hyunjin brainstormed ramdom ideas to get his hyung away from his ticklish self.

The aussie nonchalantly grabbed an empty canvas and a chair, walking towards the ferret. He placed the chair behind the painter and the canvas in front, replacing the unfinished painting with it.

“I think STAY would love to see how to paint a simple auto portrait… While being tickled.” the shorter stated, wrapping his fingers around Jinnie’s sides, not doing anything yet.

Hyunjin gulped, dipping his dirty paintbrush into a cup, filled with water. Then, he patted it dry onto a piece of paper. Lastly, he proceeded to grab quite a generous amount of paint onto his brush.

For STAY…

He started slowly with his face. It was just a simple little sketch, nothing too important anyway, so he didn’t really care about proportions. He was about to get tickled, so it would surely get ruined anyway.

As he was finishing up his chin and starting on the jaw, he felt a quick jab on his side, causing him to jerk the opposite way “Yah! Thankfully, the brush wasn’t on the canvas… I almost ruined it because of you!” Hyunjin whined.

The person responsable for the tall boy’s screams just snickered, poking him once again.The artists tried to protect his sensitive torso with one hand and paint with the other.

As Jinnie hurriedly drew the ears, Chan properly dug into the vulnerable spot, making Hyunjin flinch harshly “CHAN! Now you’ve ruined it! Do you see this big, dark line? That’s your fault!” the ferret dramatically gasped, repeatedly pointing at the horrible mistake.

“Excuse me? Chan? It’s hyung to you!” the shorter pointed out, shoving his wiggly fingers under the younger’s arms “YAHAHAHAHA STOHOHOHOHOP! IHIHI MUHUHUHUHUHST FIHIHIHIHIHINISH THIHIHIHIHS HAHAHAHA!” the tallest member in Stray Kids yelped, twisting side to side.

To his disadvantage, the aussie wasn’t in the mood to show any mercy “Remeber how you tickled me without letting me sing those beutiful lyrics out? I was dying, yet none of you stopped for even a minute to let me push those words out. Have a taste of your own medicine, Jinnie. Eye for an eye…” Chan ranted, drilling in between the long haired boy’s ribs.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEASE, IHIHIHIHI REHEHEHEHEALY HAHAHAHAVE TOHOHOHOHO- NOHOHOHOHO!” the talented painter tried to squeak his sentence out, only to be cut off by his own crazy cackles “Get to drawing, I really wanna see that beutiful result of your talent~” the kangaroo teased, mocking the way Hyunjin and kids tormented him.

The ferret quickly grabbed the paintbrush, splashing some abstract stains of paint, trying to resemble his hair “Wow, are those your beutiful locks of hair?” the older teasingly questioned the colourful puddles.

“IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHHAHAN’T- UGH! STOHOHOHOHOP, YOUHUHUH’RE ANOHOHOHOHOHYING!” the dancer tried to argue with the older, but was far too ticklish for that “Where are those beutiful eyes of yours? And your neck? I think you should draw yourself wearing a beutiful polo-shirt.” Chan suggested, squeezing his lee’s lower back.

Hyunjin went bonkers when the chosen spot was mercilessly attacked. In fact, he even got some paint on his face.

In a desperate act, he snatched his painting tool and smuthered his not-so-empty canvas in random strokes. Most of them were unsuccessful, landing nowhere near the face. He tried once more, this time making them look somewhat close to a nose, eye and a singular eyebrow.

“You’re doing great! Just finish up the other half of the face and you’ll be done!” Channie commented, grabbing the top of the dancer’s thighs and pushing his fingers rapidly in and out of the flesh. The worst part: one hand was being so painfully gentle and the other seemed to be melting into the ticklish skin with its aggressiveness.

“OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOK O-OHOHOK IHIHIHIHIHI’M DO-DOHOHOHOHONE!” the younger announced “Nu-uh. The head, it’s floating. You better add a neck before it falls to the ground!”

The painting in question was full of uneven lines, some of them not even properly connecting. Hyunjin’s supposed face was half empty. Not to mention that it was covered in zig-zaggy strokes, most of which went over the line that separated the visage from the backround. The backround in question was covered with those exact same abstract, uneven strokes, lines and stains of paint.

Both of the boys stopped to admire their work. It seemed so… Modern “Look at what we’ve created…” Chan dramatically sighed in admiration “Excuse me? Who’s we? This is all my job!” Hyunjin tried to protest, only to be lowered back down by a few pokes to the side.

“STAY is gonna love this!” the aussie exclaimed, suddenly taking out his phone and stopping the video recording “YOU FILMED THAT?!” the artist roared “You filmed me! And posted it. This is called revenge!” the leader snickered, running away to hide into the safety of his room, before the taller boy could catch up.

That very same evening, Hyunjin’s instagram account was updated with two posts. One with the original painting he was working on, and the other painting: which his oldest hyung helped him make…

•• ━━━━━━━ •• ❖ •• ━━━━━━━ ••

Hope you enjoyed! Do you guys like this series and concept? Me personally, I love these shorter fics. Can’t wait to write more. Have a good day/night!❤️🙂

#tickle #stray kids #rough tickles #bang chan #hwang hyunjin #lee!hyunjin #ler!bangchan #sfw tickle community #tickle community #kpop tickle

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cheemscakecat · 1 month

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Missing in Action 7

Chapter 7: Dream Team

Scout doesn’t like the fact that he misses his old man.

TW: Angst

Jeremy was surrounded by his rabid brothers. Frankie, Arthur, Henry and Jonas were all showing off how much better their civilian jobs were, and their wives, and their reading skills. He kept getting long-winded, wordy diplomas and essays shoved in his face and making it hard to breathe. They also would not stop loudly ranting about the stock market and how expensive their weddings were.

Pete, Kevin and Danny were pushing and shoving through the never ending paper and nerd arms, tryin to act like real ****; but he wasn’t paying much attention to them. He was payin real close attention to the fact that they were pressing in on him with their bodies and papers, makin it real Claus-try-fo’-bick. He couldn’t get out of the sweaty ring of siblings who were sucking up all the air just to say how much better they were than him. He was gonna suffocate at this rate.

There was a loud rumbling earthquake, and everyone’s feet lifted off the ground for a second. Then it happened again and again. His brothers scrambled away, which gave him time to breathe, but he wasn’t ready to avoid whatever was makin the earthquakes.

A big pair of fancy shoes -belongin to a giant that was towering up so high you couldn’t see his face- stopped a couple hundred feet in front of him. His brothers did nothing to help him, squawking over their precious paper trophies.

The giant’s big leather gloved hand reached down and pinched the back of Jeremy’s shirt between his pointer finger and thumb, and pulled him up into the air. He was set down in the giant’s other hand, which was cupped a little to keep him from fallin. The first hand also got cupped, in case one wasn’t enough.

The big hands lifted him higher and higher until he was face to face with Spy, who was really freakin big for some reason. Hell, if his brothers had the guts to try and scale one of his legs, it’d probably take them 2 days to reach one of his knees. Assuming they knew anything about rock climbing.

He was being held like… not an egg, people don’t hold eggs like they’re valuable. Maybe like… if Ma or Pauling got shrunk down, and he didn’t want em to get squished? Either way, big Spy started to walk away from the annoying brothers, and Jeremy could breathe pretty well even that high up.

Suddenly he was a little baby again, who had clearly been cryin for a hot minute, because there was snot dripping down his face. Spy plopped down in an armchair and wiped the baby snot off him with a tissue. Then he grabbed a baby blanket and wrapped Jeremy up in it.

It was warm and comfortable, made even better by the fact that he was held up to Spy’s shoulder and small enough to lay his head down in the crook of his neck. He curled up there, not paying any attention to the cigarette smoke smell or his loud toddler brothers running around the living room.

And then he woke up.

It was the second night in a row where he had a stupid dream about Spy being good. This one wasn’t even a memory, and Scout still remembered it in every little detail.

He hated the fact that he kept having these dreams. Spy left him and Ma behind for 20 years, stuck with his annoying gang-rat brothers and the kids at school that loved to boast about their dads. He spent 7 years not telling him the truth. And he was going to let them hang in Teufort without telling him for another 6 months.

And he was gone. Again. After promising he’d be back like a dirty liar. Spy didn’t deserve these rose-tinted dreams. If it was so easy for him to not care about Jeremy after all that, he should stop caring too.

Why’d he have’ta keep caring?

Dream Spy had carried him way better than Saxton Hale. Hale slung him like a cheap bag of potatoes and let him flop around as he galloped through the jungle. Scout felt his hard muscular arm digging into his stomach and almost threw up. And then, he got smacked around like a baseball bat.

But dream Spy wasn’t real, was he? Real Spy left him alone in the jungle like a coward, and Hale grabbed him from there.

Jeremy got up fast and shoved his clothes on. He stalked off towards the training room so he could punch something and stop thinking about it.

He remembered the ride back from the crappy Yeti theme park. Spy sat his stuck up *** right next to him like he didn’t turn invisible and leave him to go through all that.

The door was locked.

Scout was all beat up from being slammed into the Yeti like he wasn’t a human, hitting straight muscle at full force. Medic had patched him up some, but had to focus on Soldier because getting your spine snapped in half was a way bigger issue. His head was pounding and he felt sore all over.

The door was locked.

Spy tapped him on the shoulder, and made sure he was watching. Then he pulled his arm out, balled his hand into a hard fist, and punched himself square in his big nose. Spy’s head snapped against the back of his chair from the force of the blow, and he got a wicked bloody nose out of it.

Stop it.

Scout could hear himself stupidly getting concerned over Spy being hurt. Askin why he did that like it wasn’t a distraction.

Why is this **** door locked?!

“That’s for leaving you with Mr Hale. I’dve let you hit me, but you aren’t at full strength right now.”

“LIAR! It’s an act! It’s all an act with you!” Jeremy slammed his fist into the hard metal training room door and plunked his head against it. He cried out angrily.

“Scout? ‘Re you alright lad?” Demoman was starin at him, and all ready for fight too, since he was suited up with his bombs and safety pads. He must have made it sound like an emergency or somethin.

“Oh hey! Yeah, I uh… sorry.” Demo looked concerned. “‘Eard you had a bad phone call yesterday. The new Spy wouldn’t tell us exactly who it was but eh.. he said not to let ‘em Bostonian guys call ye again.”

Word had spread that fast? Well, new Spy had threatened his brothers with the scarier teammates existing. It made sense he’d want the others on board with what he said.

“Yeah, I um.. I got some crappy brothers. Always stressin Ma.. I think they stole her phone to make that call actually.” Demoman did a double take. “Them Boston brats were yer brothers? Spy said they were right cruel wit ye..” Scout tried to shrug.

“Well, those three are the worst of em.. The gang members. They think they’re real ****, acting like that n makin Ma worry… Y’know?” Truth be told, Jeremy never imagined he’d be sharing this stuff with his teammates; but now that some of the cat was out of the bag, he didn’t seem to have it in him to be secretive.

”Well, me ‘n the rest o’ the team’ ll keep an eye out for ‘nother call like that. None o us want ye to get mocked by losers again. Medic actually volunteered to scare em off if they try another stunt.”

Medic was up in arms about it?! Scout expected Demoman, Engineer and maybe Heavy to be cool with threatening his brothers, but Medic? He felt.. relieved in a way. Even though he knew the team wouldn't fire him now.

————————

None of the teammates were happy about some losers making fun of Scout for not having a dad, but by far the worst reaction came from Medic. He was seething with rage and everyone could see the bloodlust in his eyes. Heavy and Engineer hastily took him to MedBay to calm him down with the doves. Younger Spy looked terrified that he might have sent death on those clowns on the first warning.

Dr Ludvig knew a great deal about loss. He was from Europe after all, the land torn apart by two World Wars. The land of the Lost Generation. He also knew a great deal about his teammates.

Those spoiled American brats didn’t care to know about others and their loss. Not if they knew Scout and still chose to mock his father’s absence. Mikhal had lost his father to the Soviet Regime, had to raise his family. He was better at hiding it, but his rage burned against those boys too. Even if Scout didn’t know it, Spy would not have left him behind again. Heavy’s father wouldn’t have left if he could help it.

Sniper and Demoman’s foster parents wouldn’t have left them if they could help it. Sniper’s wouldn't have wished for him to meet his birth parents if they had known how scummy they were. Demoman’s foster parents wouldn’t have wished his alcoholism or strange, toxic family traditions on him.

Soldier was raised by feral raccoons from the time he was very small to the age of 7. Nobody knew who his parents were; if they’d died tragically or dumped him in the woods. The Americans tried to civilize him and were never very successful at it. It was something he didn’t speak about, but Medic had been curious about why he was not allowed in the military and had an iron stomach.

And then there was war. And the regimes. War that killed young men before they could become fathers, regimes that killed young and old for petty and hateful reasons.

In WWII, Medic targeted the important party members and not their underlings, for a very good reason. Many were brainwashed or pretending to be for their own and their family’s safety. He only wished starvation on the people in charge of the secret death camps, not the random foot soldiers who died as prisoners of war. In America more of them were taken care of well and allowed to live peacefully, in Europe they were not. Not fed well. Never to go home. Hell, Berlin was split down the middle.

The anger Ludvig felt against the three boys from Boston was close to his anger with Classic Team. There was a difference between being forced to be hateful and choosing it of your own free will. He didn’t hate the BLU teams they fought here; that Spy head would have been mutilated if he did. He stayed a mercenary because he knew he was insane and not fit to treat civilians.

But Scout’s enemies were hateful to civilians and their so-called friend by choice. And he hated them for it.

———————-

Antoine made a decision. He felt depression and lowness, but so did the team Scout. The team was missing a Spy and he felt their worry. So as much as he didn’t feel happy, he would pretend. He remembered better times and the silly things he used to do in battle. Today’s battle was too soon after his arrival for him to join; the Admin had not been alerted to him by the desert team.

But Scout -who had hurt his hand punching the locked training room door- and the scary Medic could get their frustrations out in the fight today. And he would be there to play the cheerful one and lighten the mood of the desert team.

Even if it killed him.

#tf2 #dadspy #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #angst fanfic #sad lad hours #tf2 medic

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pixelatedraindrops · 8 months

Text

RAIN CODE X POKEMON:

Yuma and Eevee

You Heard of Detective Pikachu... Get ready for Detective Eevee!

Yuma's Eevee is also a top detective. (it also strongly resembles him) Raised in the WDO all it's life, it has a lot of strong insight and can usually tell if a culprit has malicious intent behind them. (but since it only senses malicious intent it isn't always right on the culprit) It's also very helpful during investigations. (its had lots of experience) With Yuma having amnesia, Eevee is very helpful to him during crime scene investigations.

Of course, because of this, it does not get along with Shinigami. Because of Eevee's strong insight, it can sense her. (and pokemon and human are bound in this world by a link, so whatever yuma can see, eevee can usually see too) Being the jealous type, she calls it a “rat” constantly telling Yuma that it would just get in his way. With both of them being Yuma's partner, they became rivals. They fight and argue a lot (shinigami can understand pokemon speech) causing poor Yuma to get a headache. Yuma also has Shinigami translate what Eevee says during investigations. (tho she almost never complies unless yuma says "please" or begs her, causing eevee to get annoyed with her again) The fighting never ends with them.

Eevee does get along fairly well with the rest of the nocturnal detective agency’s Pokémon partners. It becomes best friends with Desuhiko’s partner, it has a fellow kinship with Halara’s partner since both are oddly colored, when it later meets Fubuki’s partner for the short time it comes to their aid it gets along pretty okay with it, its a little wary of Vivia’s partner, but it doesn’t hate it. And it likes to hang and take naps with the chief's partner when its at the agency (though it isn’t often) Outside of the agency, the only other Pokémon it knows personally is Kurumi’s partner. It actually has a huge crush on Eevee and loves following it around whenever Yuma and Kurumi are together. And it eventually meets Makoto’s partner, though it isn’t until MUCH later. Makoto lies saying he doesn’t have a partner when he first meets it and Yuma. But in reality, he's hiding it from sight.

Eevee can join in the Mystery Laybrinth as a guest due to the Coalescence ability since it is usually on Yuma's shoulder. Meaning it does sadly forget the case it helped it's master investigate. But it helps in other ways. When in a Mystery Labyrinth, Eevee holds onto the Solution Keys until Yuma asks for them. It carries them in a little keyring. After the mystery is solved it forgets the event like any other guest. But it makes Yuma bond with it more, since he remembers.

HUGE RAINCODE SPOILERS BELOW

Being the partner of Number One of the WDO, Eevee completely objected to his master using the Book Of Death to erase his memory for the Kanai Ward Mystery. (so it already didn't like shinigami) But he told Eevee to look after him and always be by his side to help Shinigami form him into a detective using the skills they both learned in their journey becoming Number One, together.

Since this was a command from it's master, Eevee obliged. It cared deeply for him and made sure to keep a watchful eye on him.

Through Yuma's amnesiac journey, Eevee remained by his side. Despite Yuma forgetting about it, he still allowed it to stay with him no matter how much Shinigami protested. It proved helpful in every case and even in the Mystery Labyrinth. And is even a good source of comfort for Yuma whenever he gets anxious. (he gives it hugs :3) It was always cheering for him, even if he lost his memory.

Though the memory loss does cause a bit of friction in their relationship. It even causes them to fight in Chapter 4. Due to it having the same worry as Vivia, because Eevee knew who the culprit was from the start. (Sensing the murderous and malicious intent from the culprit when he rescued Yuma) It felt conflicted and caused it to be distant from Yuma. It was both disappointed in his reluctance and worried for his feelings. Even though it knew feelings had to be discarded in these situations, with the methods of the WDO (and Number One himself) it knew for so long.

Though after Yuma got stronger from the ordeal and before the final battle, the two were practically inseparable. Shinigami even earned a bit of respect for it (though she still calls it a rat)

Up until they reach the ugly truth and Makoto reveals himself behind the mask, as well as the partner he's kept hidden all this time.

Shinigami and Eevee finally make attempts to team up to help Yuma get through the last laybrinth and final battle with his homunculus. Helping him out of the despair he feels losing who he is when both of them remember who he truly is and that he shouldn't give up. Because they're both by his side.

Once he snaps out of it the final battle between the two begin. Eevee fights Mimikyu while Yuma fights Makoto.

In the end they are both defeated. And they find the solution for Kanai Ward's mystery. Eevee comforts Mimikyu the whole time Yuma is talking to Makoto.

In the end, Shinigami acknowledges Yuma's partner and admits defeat. Allowing Yuma to leave from the emergency exit. Telling him he already has a great partner. Though the goodbye was still tearful and emotional. Even Eevee shed a few tears. It had began to get used to Shinigami's company. But it knew this would happen, but she would be missed. Eevee comforted Yuma until the fated goodbye kiss from her, as both of them left through the emergency exit.

Upon the Epilogue of the story, the final labyrinth, and Yuma getting his memory back after parting ways with Shinigami, he embraces his beloved partner as Eevee squeals in joy with it's beloved master's memory returned.

"Thank you, Eevee. Good work."

Eventually with his resign from the WDO and journey through the world to erase all unsolved mysteries, his Eevee eventually evolves into Umbreon during a case at night. Becoming ESPECIALLY more useful in night investigations. Using it's glowing rings to help navigate through the dark, AND it can now produce ultraviolet light to help investigate in crime scenes (in a way it became its own forte although its rings are blue it can also produce purple light) The duo was stronger than ever now that they've both evolved from the Kanai Ward experience, together.

The Noir Detective and his Partner of the Night~🔎

(Yuma and Eevee were more like business partners when he was Number One with it as his partner, but the journey through Kanai Ward made Yuma love and care for Eevee as a friend, and thus post game when Yuma appreciates Eevee more with his memories back from the experience, the friendship evolution finally happens. The Journey helped them both grow as individuals, and as friends)

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insideliascrazyhead · 9 months

Text

High and Low the worst cross x random thoughts at rewatch 194242 or something similar

-Gandhi and Reiji are knock-off Haitani´s that we all need

-Mashii looks like a villain and I love that

-lying squirrel Binzo.That´s dedication to violence.

-I love Fujio´s facial expression when he knoced out Binzo and he went all Suzuran Zombie and woke up in two seconds

-Magoroku looking insulted lika a sad mruder kitten when Fujio tells him Doroki is better

-Fujio just dipping into Housen because he´s in the neighbourhood,like he owns that place is great like you´ve all been suprise adopted in Hanaoka Fujio´s found family!

-headcanon:Housen makes those educational presentations of each school they fight and I wanna know what they said about the guys from Oya

-I love how much more confident Jamuo is meanwhile,

-especially the great delinquent trivia is legendary

-Mommas boy Shidaken

-Sabakan´s training is probably because of their attack by Kidra so he will be able to defend himself but they let him train with Jinkawa who´s just like a meat mountain poor Sabakan planned his funeral right there

-Shibaman and Tsuji know exactly where Todoroki is but before ratting him out they would die knowing they would jump him like cowards

-i love how Yasushi and Kiyoshi go from screaming at each other to talk softly

-why would Yasushi slap Kiyoshi so damn soft?

-Yasushi is the fucking mother hen of the Yasu-Kiyo faction!!! Example 1;guy lands on the table,Kiyoshi screaming at him Yasushi looks like he checks the guy for injuries.Example 2 he doesn´t leave anyone behind instead helps them get away.

-When Kiyoshi sacrifices himself,he tells the Yasu-Kiyo faction to take Yasushi away and they do so without hesitation.Why?Yasushi´s their leader too.My theories fo from Yasushi´s permanent brain damage they didn´t tell anyone out of the faction off to Kiyoshi having a talk with the faction that hell will break loose if Yasushi will ever end in a similar situation

-Kiyoshi was probably be so scared goin into the icu and just seeing the similar hair color from the door under the oxygen mask and bandages fearing it´s Yasushi until he get´s closer and discovers it´s Shidaken

-Gandhi has the most hilarious laugh out of all of them

-Amagai watched to much Home Alone

-Odajima´s Heya is the cutest thing to exist.Ever.

-love how Yasushi came flying through the boarded up window like it´s nothing

-Suzuran showing up with fireworks is probably Binzo´s idea

-when Suzaki opens up his fucking jacket to be able to move more free during fighting also love the stripper v neck but moving on he reminds me of Big from Kinnporsche but the live strip show....

-Headcanon Amagai has IED Intermittent explosive disorder

-when Jamuo said it´s been a while since I hit someone I swear he means the bitch slap Yasushi got form him in episode 0

-i love Tsukasa´s get back up motivation like I´m pissing blood by now but so will you Amagai.

-when Todoroki got hit over the head with the bottle and the blood dripps to the floor while their soundtrack plays is great. I love Todorokis character development of i have friends to protect now!

-love Amagai´s shrieks of Suzaki!

-Odajima nearly vomiting on Senomons gym floor is funnier then it should be

-Jeez that fight must have burned a ton of calories from Yasushi is a total mood

-living for Nakaoka and Yasushi roasting Amagai "You lost!"and Nakaoka laughing while pointing at him.

-Jinkawaaaaaa!

-Suzakis jacket is a lot more Amagai´s color in the end

#high and low #high and low the worst #oya high #oya kou #hanaoka fujio #tsukasa takajo #jamuo #nishikawa yasushi #kiyoshi #nakaoka #housen academy #suzuran #shibaman #tsuji #todoroki yosuke #odajima yuken #shidaken

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chlorophyllium · 7 months

Text

Things I noticed rereading Gregor and The Prophecy of Bane as an adult:

Good god, Gregor and his family can't catch a break. Food insecurities, financial burdens, young kids having to grow up sooner to be caretakers...

Suzanne drop Mrs. Cormaci's recipes. They sound good.

Mrs. Cormaci goes to church?

"Drop, Overlander," PURRED a voice 👀 its ARES TIME BABY 🦇🖤

How did the flashlight stay on Ares' back? Does he have insane balancing skills or-

Ares being considerate enough to give Gregor light to calm him down first before catching him

Ares and Gregor's bond is developing in real time and wow its awkward

"Expert on rats. No matter how many legs it has-" GIRL. Children are ruthless

Gregor making Luxa laugh by being goofy

Hand operated cannons

Paintball in the Underworld

Gregor having a panic attack and Ares once again providing him comfort

Bats will be like "I know a place" and take you to crystal cave by an underground lake

Is that Henry's stuff in the cave? God I hope not.

"Apparently you learn fast." Ares got jokes

Ares bonding with Henry to cover his ass for rule breaking among bats. Pretty smart of him but like.... what were you doing that you felt the need to have ROYAL protection?

Ripred really just laying on a field mid convo. Iconic.

Boats made of leather, fins, bone... was it from a carcass or did the Underlanders hunt?

The boats are more like giant canoes

Ares admitting to wanting to fly over the Waterway

"I think it poisoned me or something" (collapse)

"Oh shut up Fo-Fo"

Underland kraken glowing green

Luxa remembers how to make a sandwich

The bats lifting the boat so its mid air to escape the whirlpool and Gregor and Twitchtip just dangling over the side

PANDORA BEING EATEN ALIVE BY BUGS WHAT THE FUCK

THE WATER SERPENTS HAVE NO EYES AND ROWS AND ROWS OF TEETH WHAT THE FUCK

Twitchtip got a stumpy tail and broken nose but STILL willing to back up Gregor and Ares

Gregor, age 11, going numb at the (assumed) death of Boots. Suzanne please

Twitchtip's laugh 🥺🐀 Run like the river baby girl

"The one on the left" (Circles back) "On further reflection, I favor the one on the right." (Dead end) "I think you should choose." Ares your humor

"It seems a crime for me to be alive." ARES YOUR PAIN

Snare and Goldshard's fight is really graphic for a kid's book SUZANNE like we saw whole intestines spill out.

The bebey is hongry.

Ares freaking out.

Gregor once again with the smarts

Ares once again with SKILLS yeah you could absolutely made the Waterway journey

The Bane loving chocolate (I hc Gregor had some Snickers)

Ripred eating books (I bet he doesn't even finish them so somewhere in New York there is a book with a giant rat size bite)

Ares suggesting everything be blamed on him and spiraling into a plan. Baby boy you need therapy the Underland is unworthy of you

#the underland chronicles #tuc #gregor and the prophecy of bane

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 1 year

Text

Love, Hate, Love

Word Count: 2494 words

Pairing: Jay White x Reader

Warnings: +18, toxic relationship, mutual physical violence, cursing, mentions of cheating, mentions of murder, smut.

Tag: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @letsgivethisonemoreshot , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl

I tried to love you

I thought I could

I tried to own you

I thought I would

I want to peel the skin from your face

Before the real you lays to waste

The streetlights were mostly broken, one of the “perks” of living in that part of town. Most people would be frightened to walk home alone at such late hours of the night, but she was used to it by now. The rough childhood and teenage years had trained her well to deal with the dangers the world offered, besides, there was nothing her pocket knife couldn’t handle for her. She had lost count already of how many times the shiny blade had stood by her side, the only friend one could ever ask for in life. Nothing frightened her, nobody could make her quiver in fear. Not even him.

Her eyes soon found the small, round, orange-burning glow of his Cuban cigar casting a faint, low light on his face. He was sitting on her front porch - as he did so many times before in the past - heavy boots tapping against the old, creaking floorboards. His hair was tied up at the back of his neck in a low bun, his black leather jacket was tossed over his leg and his eyes soon met her frame in the darkness as she approached her house.

“Where the fuck were you?” Was the only greeting she ever received from him. His poison-filled voice was shaky and his eyes held a sharp gleam she became all too familiar with by now.

“Weren’t you supposed to be with some random, ring rat in Japan?” Her mockery tone only served to annoy him even more.

She didn’t even flinch when he quickly stood up as she passed by him to unlock her front door.

“Why are you coming home so late, huh? I’ve been sitting here since 7 p.m! You should've gotten here at 7:30 tops! Why the fuck took you 8 fucking hours to get home?!”

Jay was known for his angry outbursts, he turned into this wild, uncontrolled creature that managed to scare everyone around him. Except for her, it didn’t matter how much he screamed, cursed, or broke things, she never flinched or bowed to his wishes.

An exasperated sigh left her lips “Go home, Jay. I told you I didn’t want you here anymore”

Before she could open the door, Jay grabbed the doorknob and kept the door closed.

“FUCKING ANSWER ME!” He closed the distance between their bodies and she squared up to him. That was when Jay smelled, the scent that was once printed on his bedsheets after one of their fights. The scent makes the psycho inside of him come out.

“You were with him, weren’t you? You fucking bitch!” His hand wrapped around her neck, but as always, she quickly pushed him back, making him take two steps back and let go of her neck.

“Go. Home!” Her voice was monotone as per usual “I don’t want you here”

“Yeah, because you want him? You fucking lying cunt! You know I fucking hate him! But that’s why you went there, wasn’t it? Because you knew that would get a reaction out of me” Jay’s forehead glistened with sweat, his body was on fire, and the animal within was itching to come out. She always does this, the fucking bitch! Always runs towards that fucker whenever she wants to get under Jay’s skin. “You won’t go to him anymore, do you understand me?!”

“Do you say that to all the bitches you fuck in Japan too?” She scoffed before pushing him aside and opening her front door. Her high heels clicked on the floor as she walked to the kitchen, not even bothering to look over her shoulder to know he had followed her inside.

“I didn’t say you could come in” She spoke, once the warmth of his body caressed her back.

“This is my house too”

“Says who?” The scorn upon her voice had Jay’s blood boiling with anger

“The guy who pays the fucking rent!”

“Oh yes,” She turned around to face him “And because you ‘love me so much’ you ‘pay’ my rent in the shittiest and most dangerous part of town while you live in a penthouse in the rich boy's neighborhood?” Her laugh was loud and despicable “Give me a fucking break and get the hell out of my house”.

You told me I'm the only one

Sweet little angel

You should have run

Lying, crying, dying to leave

Innocence creates my hell

“Unfortunately for me yes, I fucking love you, you fucking bitch!”

“Awww, baby” She mocked “It makes me so happy to know that you demonstrate your love by fucking anything that walks. That’s so sweet! You're the best boyfriend in the world!” Her smile turned cold before she spat “Are you done now? Great, now fuck off!”

“Are you really trying to pretend you didn’t just fuck another man a few hours ago?” Jay chuckled “You’re such a fucking hypocrite”

“You stuck the knife in first, Jay. Not me. What do you want me to do? Watch you fuck other women and brag about it as I only sit back and applaud? You knew I would give you a taste of your own medicine” She shrugged “What’s the matter, though? Can’t handle the taste? It’s bitter, isn’t it? Yeah, it clings to your taste buds, and nothing can erase it. You just have to sit there and wait for it to go away. But it never really does, does it? No, it doesn’t matter how much you try to erase that experience, there’s nothing that can make it go away”. She took a step forward with every word, and now she stood mere inches apart from him. Jay suddenly cut their distance by wrapping his fingers around her neck and pulling her closer to him “If you only knew how bad I want to hurt you right now, you wouldn’t keep running your fucking mouth!” His low growl only elicited a faint cackle from her lips “Oh, missing me already I see. What’s wrong? Your weak side bitches from across the sea can��t take it rough? Do you want me to beg for you, daddy?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Uh, he’s getting mad” Her laugh was joyful and loud “You wanna spank me, daddy? Make me regret my choices? I’d be careful if I were you…because now you have some big shoes to fill” The wicked smile on her lips warned Jay of what she was about to say “Because David fucks so incredibly good”.

The loud thump of her back hitting the dinner table followed the sharp pain of the impact on her skin. Jay hovered over her, black pupils now constricted, jaw clenched and teeth gritting as a low, hurtful groan left his lips “YOU.ARE.MINE! Do you understand me?! You belong to me! And if I can’t have you, no one can!” The pressure around her neck tightened as his fingers closed around her soft skin “I’ll kill you before you can ever leave me! Do you think I’m joking? David will never, EVER have you!”

Her hands gripped Jay’s hair, pulling it loose from the bun so she could tug on his hair before he slapped her across the face.

“I mean it, you fucking bitch! You are mine, honeybee! You’ll forever be mine”

Her nails scratched his face and neck and a few of the red, bumpy trails had small drops of blood upon them.

“Get the fuck out! Go back to your whores in Japan”

“But you’re the only whore that I want, though” He smirked

“Bullshit!” She lifted her knees up and tried to put some distance between their bodies as she noticed Jay getting closer to pin her down on the table with his weight. “One of them sent me pictures of her with you! Videos of you two fucking in some random ass hotel, you fucking prick!” both of her knees now rested against his abs. She wouldn’t have the strength to kick him away, but she could kneel him on his stomach in case she needed to put some distance between them.

Cheating myself

Still, you know more

It would be so easy

With a whore

Try to understand me, little girl

My twisted passion to be your world

Jay’s eyes turned dark upon hearing such a statement “I’ll kill her for hurting you like this!” There was a tone of seriousness in his voice, one she’s never heard before, and a part of her was both flattered and frightened of his honesty.

“You’re the one who hurt me by cheating on me, fucking asshole!” She slapped him in the face as hard as she could “I fucking hate you! I swear to God that I hate you! I just want you out of my life!”

Jay cackled before letting go of her neck to cup her cheeks “I’ll never leave you, you know why?”

“I don’t care!” She pushed him away again ”Just get the fuck out!”. Her knees tried to push him away, but Jay only chuckled “Because I fucking love you, you psycho bitch!” His hands pushed her knees apart so he could place himself between her legs. Jay pulled back and slid his black shirt off his body, tossing it around somewhere around the kitchen.

He covered her body with his warm skin, fingers caressed her cheeks before his lips brushed against hers “Why would I bother to fly 12 hours to this shit hole if I didn’t love you?”

“Because you’re a possessive fucker who thinks he can control my life! If you loved me, you wouldn’t cheat on me”

“I told you I needed you in Japan with me. I told you I wanted you there, but what did you do? You kissed my ass goodbye so you could stay in a shitty job where you can’t even make enough money to support yourself”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, David offered me a job as his personal assistant. Which is nice because now I can blow him off and get paid a good amount of money for that” She teased and Jay dug his teeth into her bottom lip until she winced in pain.

His teeth were stained red, and the metallic taste took over his taste buds “I hope David can speak to the dead because that’s the only way you’ll ever work for him”

“You can’t be serious” She chuckled

“Try me” Jay shrugged “I’ll kill you and then I’ll torture him for days and at last, I’ll kill myself so I can follow you to the afterlife while he gets behind without ever getting to see or have you again”

She snorted a laugh before her fingers toyed with his hair “So what? You’ll haunt me even when I’m dead?”

“Yeah” He smiled proudly before pecking her lips in between every word “You’re mine even after we’re dead”.

Lost inside my sick head

I live for you but I'm not alive

Take my hand before I kill

I still love you, but, I still burn

Their lips moved at a frantic pace, tongues dancing to the delirious beat of their feelings. Her hands tugged on his hair forcefully enough for Jay to pull back with a groan.

“You sick fucker” She chuckled “Get the fuck out of my house and never come back, I’m with someone else now”.

“Over my fucking dead body!”

“I’ll gladly kill you if it means I don’t have to look at your face anymore” She spat as Jay’s hands pulled her black jeans down her legs.

“You’re mine!” The sound of his switchblade scratching the surface of the wooden table had her shivering. “And I’ll fucking write my name all over you if you need a daily reminder of who you belong to” The sharp blade scraping her thigh made her slap him across the face.

“Did you fucking think about me when you were fucking your ring rats? I don’t think so. So spare me of your fucking show!”

“Oh, but I was. Otherwise, how could I cum if I didn’t picture you in front of me?”

“You’re disgusting, you make me fucking sick! How could you fuck them?!”

“But I don’t love them, you dumb bitch! They were nothing but a cum dumpster to me. You, on the other hand, are my everything! I fucking love you! I fucking need you! My body fucking craves you, it begs for you!”

“So much so that you fucked others”

“You dumped me! I sent you flight tickets but you never came to see me, I FaceTimed you but you never answered me. If it wasn’t for me coming here every fucking time you wouldn’t even bother to check on me. But you do check on your precious Davey boy, don’t you?” Jay’s hands ripped the teal lace from her mound before unbuttoning his own jeans. “I’ve seen your lovey-dovey texts to him. Why didn’t you do that to me, though?”

“You were the one who said you didn’t want any of the sappy shit! ‘I don’t do flowers or romance, honeybee," wasn't that what you said? Do you think that shit didn’t hurt me? And then all the random sluts and their bullshit. There’s only so much a person can take, Jay”

“I fucking lied! I lied because I was already head over heels for you but knew you didn’t feel the same” Jay spat on his tip before easing it into her.

Love, hate, love

A satisfied moan escaped her lips once he was buried deep in her pussy. “This was the only time you loved me, whenever my cock was inside you I was the man of your life. This is the only reason why you’ve ever wanted me! Because we have chemistry”.

Jay’s hips began to move at a slow pace and his eyes rolled to the back of his head “Fuck, he just fucked you but you’re still so fucking tight for me, my little bee” He moaned loudly before resting his forehead against hers.

“No. I’ve always loved you, Jay. You were the one who killed my love for you, you were the one who turned it into hatred” Her hands cupped his cheeks as his hips began to thrust faster.

“You hate me? It doesn’t matter, because as long as you love the way I fuck you and as long as I love you, I don’t care. While your body still wants me, that means I have a chance to make you love me again” Jay whispered against her lips before slowly kissing her.

“I’ll never love you again” She spat when they broke apart to gasp for air.

“We’ll see about that, honeybee” He smirked before his lips traveled down her neck.

#jay white imagine #jay white x reader #jay white fanfiction #jay white #switchblade jay white #masochist writes #Spotify

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