#loraine thoughts

[amane-by-together]

are you avoiding me? ahahaha... after everything? ahahaha...

#vent #loraine's rants #loraine's note #loraine thoughts

[lori-dump]

hell everyone its your girly pop here so for the past few days i was quite busy for my stuffs and also recently was a free day so we didn't study and stuffs but we just painted some props for our hallway decorating contest. so if you remember aoi (the code name for the pretty girl) we basically hung out for the whole day.

we were cleaning paintbrushes and then she went over me and she was like "i miss you" and then she said "kiss me" and deadass kisses me on the cheek and my gay ass was like

she said that her love language is physical touch and i'm like same so we just hugged and stuffs like that. but like one time on monday, my other friend (lets call her yako) was being lovey dovey to me like saying ily to me and i say it back and aoi was like "i thought i'm the only one you love"

and yako gasped and she said "loraine, i thought i'm the one" and they deadass called me a two timer 😭 (ofc its platonic unless/jk) and here i thought i won't be any more fruitier

#loraine's thoughts #loraine's rants #loraine's notes

[zjpg]

just a girl

'abs'

prev - m.list - next

[february]

liked by pierregasly and 2,594,692 others

addilynleblanc life update.

view all 10,394 comments

user1 who were you making heart pizza with addi😉😉 -> addilynleblanc my brother and his gf made them for us on valentines day😭

user2 charles lives in red-

user3 OKAY ABS

user4 so she's a musician and a formula 1 driver- what else does she do- -> pierregasly She paints as well

landonorris Jesus, how much have you worked out since new years? -> addilynleblanc a lot. my trainer is trying to kill me actually.

aiden_perker2 STOP TELLING PEOPLE I'M TRYING TO KILL YOU -> addilynleblanc 👎🏻

user5 tbh i expected you to travel more -> addilynleblanc i did, but i spent that time with family. i need some privacy in my life rn, but i might post vacay pics in the future my love🫶🏻

addi you're lucky rb have a sense of humor

charles they wouldn't have fired you for a picture taken a year before you signed with them😭

addi nah those mofo's are crazy i wouldn't doubt itDON'T TELL ANYONE I SAID THAT

charlesyou are the most anxious person i have ever met.

addibeen that way since birth. you're not used to it?

chalresno i am. just thought i'd point it out

addi die.

charleswhen was the last time arthur talked to you??

addiwe gotta talk about this? i was perfectly fine talking about your death. what color flowers do you want at your funeral??

charlesaddilyn.

addishould i add the f1 intro song to the playlist?

chalresaddilyn loraine jacinthe leblanc.

addiit's been about a week.

charleshave you tried reaching out to him?

addiofc i have, i gave up after a few texts. like. before new years.

charlesi'll tell him to text you.

addii don't wanna talk to someone who doesn't wanna talk to me.

charleshe wants to talk to youhe just doesn't know what to say.

addi this makes it feel like it's my fault

charles it's not. he's just weird.

addi wyd?

arthurwatching a movie with maman

addioh alright

6:14 pm

arthur hey

addi hey

arthur wyd

addijust got done cleaningwbu

arthur nothing

addi nice

arthuri'm sorry

addifor what? liking me? lol, you can't control that artie.

arthurno. for running away from you. for ruining your chances with pierre. for ignoring you on new years for avoiding you since we talked.

addii know. i can't forgive you rn

arthuri don't want you to. i just want you to know that i'm sorry.

addii appreciate that. does that mean you're gonna stop avoiding me?

arthur yes.

addigood. i miss you.

arthuri miss you too. are you free rn?

addialways.

taglist: @love4lando @fairiepoems @leilanixx @ietss @charli123456789 @ayoanna @enhacolor @be-your-coffee-pot @alixnsuperstxr @vellicora @tpwkstiles

n/a: next chap might be a lil heavy :)

#˗ˏˋ lucie. ❝ just a girl ❞ #formula 1 #arthur leclerc #f1 fanfic #lando norris #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #f1 x female reader #f1 #f1 x oc #pierre gasly smau #pierre gasly insta au #pierre gasly imagine #lando norris smau #lando norris insta au #lando norris imagine #arthur leclerc smau #arthur leclerc insta au #arthur leclerc imagine

[kitchen-light]

I don’t really think of myself as any kind of public intellectual. I suppose, by definition, I think out loud and share thoughts with the public. But broadly, I’m disinterested in all of the ways I’ve seen that role personified, and I don’t really have an interest in reformatting that role for my own purposes, when I think I’m better served ignoring it entirely and trying to write/create/think out loud in a manner that removes any hierarchy. I’m just as interested in what a person next to me in the grocery aisle has to say about an album they recently enjoyed as I am anything I could say about that album myself. My capacity for intellect and enthusiastic curiosity is fueled, inspired, enlivened by broad public interaction. Asking people what they think, how they read or heard something differently than I did. That feels not only more useful, but more in-line with how I grew up, with a long runway for curiosity and no one shouting it down.

Hanif Abdurraqib, from “Loraine Williams Poetry Prize Judge Hanif Abdurraqib in Conversation with Soham Patel”, published at the Georgia Review

#hanif abdurraqib #quotes #interviews #words #found* #on writing #space

[fizzigigsimmer]

Fargo s5 Episode 8: Manipulation and Codependency.

I am UNWELL after this last episode. I have so many thoughts. What it says on the tin, this is just me processing my reaction to the latest episode so if you are not caught up, spoilers will be found within.

Let’s start with the lady of the hour. Miss Dot. Miss Dorthy Lyon 👏🏾 Put some respect on her name. This character is endlessly fascinating to me. She’s incredibly complex. Almost over powered in one sense, but also incredibly fragile. We’re seeing now in clearer detail what an accomplished manipulator Dot is. She’s not just a fighter. She’s not just hiding and masking her trauma. She is actively playing the people around her and moving them around a board in her mind. The same way Roy does. The same way anyone in a position of power does, honestly.

Roy and Loraine and people in general, we seek control over others out of a place of insecurity, in order to make ourselves feel safe in our little worlds. Survivors of abuse are particularly good at this, and it’s something I am so glad to see the narrative touching on. The media likes to paint victims with cinderella syndrome. They are often childlike innocent caricatures who are endlessly kind and pure in the face of unjustified cruelty, purely so that audiences will emotionally attach to them quickly and feel whatever amount of fear and revulsion the creator wants for the antagonist. But the reality for real people who suffer domestic violence and other forms of abuse is that they’re just people. They have the same potential for good and bad and selfishness, they developed unhealthy coping mechanisms and they learn to play the game just like everyone else. And when you live your life in fear, you have more incentive than most to get good fast at controlling your surroundings.

We see another example of this in Karen this episode. Roy’s current wife is no stranger to her husband’s violent temper and is very aware of the danger he represents. When he’s humiliated in spectacular fashion and likely to lose his election, there’s this palpable tension in the air as the family rides home. We know heads are going to roll, and from the look on Karen’s face so does she. When she first opened her mouth I was so scared for her. lol I wanted to reach through the screen and shake her, like “shut up! That man will kill you.” At first I thought she was being hopelessly naive, saying exactly all the wrong things to try and comfort Roy that were only pressing on the wound. BUT THEN! Then we watch her turn it on Dot. She calls her a curse, playing into Roy’s belief that there are scales to be balanced in order to make the world right again, and pointing out that all of this only happened when Dot came back. She basically says, Dot’s the reason you have bad luck not me. Go hurt her and not me. And then he does. It’s brilliant.

I was on the edge of my seat watching Dot desperately try and hang onto her world. Everything from her name down to who gets to remind Wayne to take his Lactaide medication, using anything and everything at her disposal to do it. When Roy isnt impressed by being reminded he married a child around his own son’s age - oh please, she had hair and her period so she wasn’t a child - she switches tactics quick as a whip and leans hard on Roy’s family man ideals. She relentlessly forces him to confront the contradictions in his actions by reminding him he is destroying a family. Finally, when that fails too she delivers a violent threat. You will do as I ask, or I’m going to hurt you. The writing here was so masterful. They are opposites. We’re rooting for her, and yet, they mirror each other. Dot has been using manipulation tactics she learned at the hands of her abusers to carefully curate a place where she feels safe, and now that it’s all crumbling around her she’s finally starting to see it for herself.

Her scene with Gator was particularly poignant. Because when he comes in, he’s subdued and we get the feeling that he’s there (whether he’s going to admit it or not) purely because he wants to see her. Her, the big sister who used to comfort him while he watched his father abuse his mother. Who then replaced his mother and became his father’s wife while his own mother seemingly abandoned him. The way she plays him in this scene is so heartbreaking to watch but also incredibly insightful. She knows why he’s here: because deep down he wanted to see her. She dances back and forth between playing on their buried bond ( “I didn’t tell the FBI anything” implying, she wouldn’t tell them anything that would hurt him) and plucking on his insecurities (you’re sloppy, you’re weak, you’re a fuck up and your daddy doesn’t love you).

But the biggest card that Dot tries to play is Linda. She tells Gator that she saw her and tries to bring him into her fantasy that Linda got out and has healed from her trauma. That she loves him and never meant to leave him, and that everything will be okay if he just helps her get out. She can take him to his mother and they can leave all of this behind him, and he can finally be free to be the person that deep down she knows he wants to be. And I just love the way this scene was played. Because while it is tempting to believe that Dot is purely just confused from the accident and the sleep deprivation, the music lets us know that more is going on here. We hear flutes, specifically those played by snake charmers. Gator is the snake, and Dot is hypnotizing him before our very eyes. This isn’t the first time Gator has been connected to snake imagery/symbolism either. When Dot decides to tell him why he’s not named Roy after his father, she likens him to a pale little lizard. @tdciago did an excellent post on some of the symbolism we’ve seen in the show thus far, and it really emphasis how often Gator is likened to or associated with snakes: His character bio compares him to the snake in the Garden. His LOL tattoo has forked tongues on the Ls. He's got a "Don't tread on me" flag featuring a snake in his room. He stopped at the Gas 'n Go to "drain the snake." He left an empty Slim Jim wrapper in Donny Ireland's evidence box, that looked like a shed snakeskin. He said that Munch came up "snake eyes."

And as much as Dot’s speech about Linda is about playing on his natural yearning for his mother, it’s also about them too. It’s about Dot. In a way, Dot is also saying that she’s sorry. She never meant to leave him alone. She loves him and she wants things to be alright. They can be if you just help me. Gator obviously wants to believe what Dot is saying is true all of it, but he’s not as dumb as everyone seems to think he is. He knows Dot lies to herself and to others and he calls her out on it. With a single line “You’re lying. You’ve never once in your life told the truth.” we’re left to wonder about all the lies Dot has had to tell over the years. First in order to survive on her own as a teenage runaway, then when she was taken in by the Tillmans, and again when Linda disappeared and she became Roy’s wife.

She told herself that Linda got out, that she was somewhere safe and free and building the life that she wanted. At first she used this lie not to have to face the reality of Roy, of her own likely end, maybe even to appease the twisted sense of guilt she would feel taking Linda’s place and in the light of Gator’s grief over his mother’s sudden absence. Later, she probably used this lie to give herself the courage to be her own Linda. To get out and make the life for herself that she deserved, even if it meant having to leave Gator behind. Even if he doesn’t understand all of the pieces, in his heart of hearts Gator knows his mother is never coming back. She’s either gone or dead, and either way she left him just like Dot did, and Dot is lying to herself.

“I hope you die in here Nadine and that you never see your kid again.” Because that would be justice in his eyes. That would balance the scales. Because he’s never getting out, so why should she?

“No you don’t.” And it’s true. She knows him. Knows he wouldn’t even be here if he weren’t soft. She gave him an opportunity. This was Gator’s crossroad and he chose to stay his course, and the looming figure of Munch reinforces the message that Officer Witt Later delivers, the consequences for Gator are almost here.

Dot too is approaching a crossroad. Because as the episode progresses she is forced to finally confront one of the lies she’s been telling herself for years. Linda is dead. She never made it out. She’s buried under the windmill with Roy’s other enemies. This is not the first time that Dot has seen this windmill, because it was also in her dream about Linda. I would not be surprised if all of Roy’s wives did not witness a body going into that ground at some point or another because of how Karen was so quick to redirect Roy’s rage to Dot. They’re on different sides of the line but they are both fighting for the same thing. To be with their children and not to end up rolled into an early grave.

#fargo spoilers #fargo season 5 #fargo reaction #gator tillman #dot lyon #roy tillman

[lorrainmorgan]

Serpent’s touch

[ 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐮 𝐦𝐲 🐍 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 ]

Previous Part 1 Next

"What are you going to do now, Ominis Gaunt?”… “Nothing that you wouldn't want me to do," he finally replied, his voice low. He waited for a sign from her, her consent, a hint, anything. 

As the game ended, the duo trudged down to the Quidditch lockers to console their defeated friends. The Slytherin team had given it their all on the field, but their efforts fell short and they suffered a humiliating loss. Sebastian, fueled by anger and disappointment, was ready to confront another player for alleged cheating. And of course, Imelda's antics were always adding fuel to the fire.

The Slytherins exchanged glances at their friends' typical reactions before dragging them out of the tents and towards their common room before things got too heated.

The cool breeze of the castle hit them as they entered their Common Room, adding to the already gloomy atmosphere. But even in the dim light, they could see the moon casting its silver glow onto the Black Lake, waves crashing against the windows and reflecting off the stained glass. 

As the night wore on, the sounds of students returning to their dorms could be heard throughout the castle.

When Bell’s Tower clock chimed past midnight, a lone male figure emerged from the shadows. 

Wand casting a flickering red light as he made his way down the stairs. It was young Gaunt, making his way towards his favorite spot - a puffy couch next to the crackling fireplace. But as he approached, something caught his attention. Another figure sat in his usual spot, staring into the dancing flames.

"I see you too have nightmares" Lorra spoke in a hushed tone, her voice barely audible above the crackle of the fire. "Mine come and go, but I'd rather not sleep at all on nights like these. They only worsen with darkness."

Ominis sighed, his voice heavy with weariness and a hint of fear. "Indeed" he admitted quietly, "and they're always much worse when I sleep for long periods of hours." Lorain's gaze softened with understanding as she listened to him speak. "I just... can't sleep well most of the time. May I?". Ominis asked before sitting down next to his friend. 

"That's why you take naps during the day," Lorain deduced, her eyes searching his face for confirmation. A small smile tugged at her lips as she added, "You're quite the character, Ominis Gaunt. Tell me, what do you normally do on nights like this?"

Her playful tone brought a slight blush to Ominis' cheeks as she gently nudged his shoulder. 

"I... I usually just read or practice my magic," he answered after a moment of thought, his voice growing more confident. "Or sometimes, I'll sit outside and imagine I can look at the stars shining in the night sky..." His blind gaze drifted upwards for a brief moment.

His eyes lit up with a sense of wonder and excitement. He gestured animatedly with his hands, describing how he used his wand to trace the patterns in the stars and create intricate constellations only visible to him.

Lorrain leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, fully absorbed in his words. She could feel his passion for magic radiating from him, and she couldn't help but admire him for it.

"So when you look at the stars, Can you see shooting stars brighter than anyone else? How beautiful," she murmured.

 "It's one of the few perks of my condition."" He smiled softly, touching the tip of his wand.

She let out a contented sigh, "You're amazing, Gaunt. Tell me more about yourself." Her voice was getting tired, but filled with genuine interest as she finally began to feel sleepy in his comforting presence.

"Um... Well, I'm not too much of a... very interesting person. I'm just an average wizard”. 

She leaned in, intrigued.

 "I've heard differently...about the Dark Arts and the Gaunts. Are the stories true?" Her tone was respectful, but there was a hint of curiosity in her voice.

He let out a long breath before answering. The weight of his family's dark beliefs hung heavily on his shoulders.

"Yes, unfortunately they are true. My family has a long history with the Dark Arts, and to our ties to Salazar Slytherin doesn’t help either. I'm not that different from them, despite trying to distance myself from it all." His words trailed off, filled with regret and shame. It was nothing to be proud of. Especially for what they’ve made him do when he was just a child…

Lorra's gaze lingered on Omini's face, her eyes drawn to the unique pattern of moles scattered across his cheek. 

He tilted his head to the side. His light blue colored orbs seemed to see right through her. "You are different from them, I can tell. " she said softly.

Ominis couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves at her words. He was used to being looked down upon or ignored, not complimented. But there was something about her gentle expression and kind words that made him feel seen in a way he never had before. He smiled shyly and nodded his head in response.

"Thank you but I...you know, you don't really know me that well." He paused. “ That doesn't mean you're wrong, it's just...I'm not as good as you think I might be." 

“Let me get to know you better then…”

She wanted to break through his reserved exterior and truly connect with him, for some reason. She knew he had walls built up, BIG ONES, but she couldn't help but feel hopeful that he would let her in.

Their midnight meetings had become a comforting routine in the weeks that followed. They would always meet in this same spot, surrounded by the darkness and the quiet of the night. For hours they would talk about their hopes and dreams, delving deep into the depths of their souls. They sat in silence sometimes, both lost in their own troubled thoughts and fears. But somehow, simply being in each other's company brought a sense of comfort and understanding.

One particular night, Ominis seemed more philosophical than usual as he asked her an unexpected question.

"What's something that you regret doing in your life? Anything at all that's worth regretting?"

She sucked in a sharp breath, feeling both nervous and vulnerable. But she knew she needed to answer his question honestly, it was only fair.

“I-I regret many things,” she laughed nervously, “but I guess not being there when my aunt needed me the most… She was the one who raised me, took me in after my muggle parents were killed. You see, Her and myself were the only witches in the family… ” She paused for a moment, her words heavy with emotion.

Ominis was taken aback by her response. He hadn't expected such a deeply personal and emotional answer. He couldn't help but feel sympathy for her.

"I’m so sorry Lorra".

Her eyes filled with tears as she began to open up to him. “She was cursed with the Torturing Curse, spent some time at San Mungo's but...she wasn't the same person anymore. She couldn't walk nor eat, comb her own hair, bathe herself… Eventually her lungs failed and then, well...I couldn't bear to see what she had become...an empty shell. For some reason everything is kind of a blur for me when I try to remember how it all happened, it’s just like a fog that clenches on that part of my past, you know?”

Her gaze drifted to the flickering flames before them, lost in memories she never thought she would share with anyone else nor trusting a Gaunt with these painful moments. The urge to embrace her and offer comfort was strong, but Ominis knew this was not the time. 

As if sensing the heaviness in the air, Lorra interjected with a more mundane and random question, "Do you have a favorite color?"

It caused Ominis to laugh, understanding she wanted to stay away from that topic. “Yes, I do. My favorite color would have to be purple. For some reason, it brings me a sense of calm and peace. Sebastian has told me it’s the color of lavender, and the berries in our breakfast.”

Lorrain shared she knew - for some reason - that for blind people, muggles and wizards, colors were perceived through different sensations - red denoted warmth and coziness, while blue evoked feelings of coldness and solidity, and so on. 

The concept fascinated her as she wondered how someone who couldn't see could understand or imagine the world around them. 

Then, a thought crossed her mind - She wondered how Ominis, born without sight, would visualize her appearance. Has he imagined her based on the sound of her voice or the feel of her touch? With no filter at all, she asked if he was curious about what she looked like. 

He met her curiosity with his own "May I touch your face then? It’ll just be a moment"

A rush of excitement surged through Lorrain as she eagerly replied, "Yes, please do." She sat facing him with her legs crossed, and grabbed his hands and gently guided them to her face, leaning in closer, allowing him to explore her features.

As he gently traced the contours of her face, she couldn't help but wonder what he was imagining. Was it close to reality or completely different? It was a strange sensation, being seen through touch rather than sight, but somehow it felt oddly intimate and personal.

The light brush of his fingertips against her skin made her hold her breath. His touch was as cold and smooth as polished stone, tracing a path from her hairline to her delicate eyebrows, then lingering on her eyelids with their soft, fluttering lashes. He continued down to her warm cheeks, where his touch seemed to melt away the chill, and finally to her parted soft lips. She tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat as she gazed into his mesmerizing eyes. They were like pools of liquid blue silver, reflecting chimney fire. Ominis continued his caress, stroking every contour of her face with delicate precision. As his fingers reached her chin, she smiled. She felt for a moment as though she was his most precious possession in the world. 

The blonde wizard could sense her aura changing into something more... affectionate. The way he’d felt her smile made his ears warm up. Ominis’ hands slowly fell to the sides. Lorra waited anxiously for his response.

"I think I have a good idea now of how you look" 

She watched him with curiosity and amusement, tilting her head slightly to the side as she waited for him to finish speaking. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke again.

"May I... ask you something personal? Why are you so kind to me? It's a dumb question, I know, but I can't help wondering."

She smiled and sighed at the same time, as if grappling with conflicting emotions. With a playful glint in her eyes, she replied, "You know Natsai Onai? She’s a Gryffindor. She told me to be cautious around you. Which only bloomed my curiosity on why”. She paused for a moment before continuing, “I didn’t want to believe the rumors until I knew you better" 

Ominis' face twisted into an angry grin. How could someone who barely knew him, and spoke probably just a couple of words in four years, make assumptions about him?

Lorrain reached out and gently took his hand for comfort. "But I don't like to judge people before I really get to know them," she said softly. "And I'm glad I didn't listen to Natti.” Her heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement.

“You are a good man, Ominis Gaunt. I’m thankful for everything we’ve shared so far. And I-I’m happy I was your dance partner that day… I truly am" Her words were like a warm embrace, softening his gaze and bringing a sense of peace. He couldn't remember the last time someone had spoken such kind words to him. 

As the tension thickened between them, their breaths grew heavier with each passing moment, they inched closer, crossing personal boundaries until their bodies were almost touching. Ominis could feel the heat radiating from their skin and the pounding of their hearts almost deafening in his ears. 

Before they could continue, the loud laughter of his friend Sebastian shattered the moment, separating them in a quick movement. The sound echoed off the stone walls of the common room, bouncing off the high vaulted ceilings and filling the space with a chaotic energy. Trying to redo his tie and smooth down his disheveled hair, Sebastian burst into the room like a whirlwind, clearly trying to hide the evidence of a late night escapade. 

"Good morning, sunshine," Ominis quipped sarcastically as he pointed his wand at his friend in a mock-parental manner. "Late night study sessions, I presume?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide the smile on his face. "Well my study session went very well, thank you. And it also resulted in me getting invited to the Ball... What a time to be alive," he declared with relief, grateful that he didn't have to stress about finding a date, not that he’d have a problem finding one…

Turning to Ominis, scanning the situation he had just interrupted, he asked with a teasing tone, "And do yoouu already have a lucky lady on your arm for the event?"

"No, I do not have a date for the upcoming ball. And yes, I am aware that it is happening soon," Ominis replied sharply. 

Sebastian joined them for a while before leaving to his room, joking about how Lorrain didn’t have a date either because she didn’t find any of the suitors appropriate. 

“I better be off as well, Ominis,” said Lorra with a soft sigh. "Thank you for another late night chat. I always enjoy your company." 

Ominis saw an opportunity and seized it. He knew it was sudden, and possibly bad timing, and it was certainly not the way he’d wanted to extend a proper invitation, but he hoped that out of all her possible options, she was only considering one. 

With a determined flick of his wand, he summoned a delicate flutterby into existence, stood up from the plush couch and called out Lorra's name, halting her ascent up the staircase. His heart pounded nervously as he held out the shimmering creature towards her.

"Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?" he asked, his voice faltering slightly as he waited for her reply. He mentally scolded himself for not planning this moment sooner.

She turned to face him, a slight look of surprise crossed her features. Ominis quickly caught up to her, making sure to stay just one step below her in position. The following silence felt like an eternity for the young Gaunt, each second stretching out into infinity.

"I would absolutely love that," she finally said, her voice soft and melodic, reaching out to take the beautiful present Ominis presented to her. As their hands met, she could feel a wave of warmth spread throughout her body.

They stood there for a moment longer, their bodies tense with emotion over the invitation and the response. She could see the hunger in his eyes, and she knew exactly what he wanted to do. She leaned back against the railing adorned with a stone serpent, carefully placing the pot on its sturdy surface.

"What are you going to do now, Ominis Gaunt?" Her words were a challenge, a dare, dripping with sarcastic amusement.

Like a predator stalking its prey, Ominis followed her scent, as she leaned away from him, and quickly closed the distance between them. Their bodies were so close now, their breaths mingling together in an intimate dance. His hand caressed her forearm, his lips pressing against the soft skin of her hand. And she couldn't help but feel a rush of intoxicating sweetness at his touch.

"Nothing that you wouldn't want me to do," he finally replied, his voice low. He waited for a sign from her, her consent, a hint, anything. 

She grabbed him by the cloak and gently pulled him closer. Ominis’ hands found the curves of her neck, fingers tangled in her braid. Finally, their lips found each other for the first time. Eyes shut, they savored the moment - their souls leaving their bodies at the touch of each other finally happening. The heat of their embrace gave Ominis enough confidence that he was doing the right thing. 

Despite their lack of expertise in the art of kissing and courting, it was enough for them. Their bodies pressed together with a comforting weight as they continued to lock lips. She timidly opened her mouth, her tongue instinctively reaching out to explore her lover's mouth. Ominis eagerly welcomed her, mirroring her actions with slow and deliberate movements. Her hands traced a path from his chest to his neck, making his blood drop cold at the warmth of her touch. With noses touching and smiles on their faces, they broke apart like two mischievous children caught in the act.

As they acclimated to each other's unique scent and taste, they murmured sweet nothings about how long they had wanted to share this intimate moment, how mesmerizing the other was, how they never imagined ending up like this after a simple dance class. 

There was a shift in the scents surrounding them, from the warm sweetness of cinnamon to a stronger and more vibrant aroma of berry-lavender.

Notes:

👉 Took me for ever to be ok Ominis' hair but I think I finally got it! 🐍✨

👉 🌷 a beautiful plant with green branches and violet flowers that resemble a butterfly, They shudder and adapt their smell only once a century.

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt fanart #ominis gaunt fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanart #looking thru my eyes #slytherin #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #art #illustration

[e-leohiss]

"Debts & Owes" || A Soap MacTavish fan-fiction

Characters involved: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price, & Laswell, + others. Pairing: Soap x Fem!Navy!Reader Wordcount: 7.9K Contains: violence, blood, cursing, swearing, rage, abuse, near-death scenarios, aggression, vengeance, bit of fluff, slowburn, I-like-you-but-I'm-not-aware, Song link: Devil in a Dress - Teddy Swims

Autor's note: Finally dropped the final output for this Soap fanfic *weeps in Victorian*

**PLEASE DO NOT translate, repost, or in any way reformat my work on this site and on any other social media.

"Debts & Owes"

Fingernails impatiently tapped the clipboard’s surface. Kate Laswell checked the wall clock for the nth time since the minute-hand had passed four o’clock. Forty minutes were closing in excruciatingly slow and there was a lot they had to discuss. However, the last set of people required for the meeting have yet to show. 

Kate’s eyes shifted to the clock and the minute-hand struck the 8th. “C’mon, Laswell. Take a seat already, would you?” the Brit’s smooth voice pleaded to the Station Chief. She’d been leaning down on her palms bowed over the head of the desk for quite a while which disquieted the sergeant. However, she didn’t give in to Garrick’s plea.

To the right of Gaz, Soap scoffed as he flipped an unsheathed pocket knife in his hand, “Bunch o’ tardy toads they are. Professional my arse –”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, sergeant,” Captain Price chided. The Scot combed his mohawk back with a curse under his breath. Price shook his head and leaned back further on the edge of the desk with crossed arms. “Where the fuck is the Rear Admiral?” he questioned. He, too, was restless.  

Kate stood up straight. “Let’s give them a couple more minutes. We’re commissioned to work with the Navy for this operation so we will have to wait,” she reasoned. Though her expression exhibited a cool, spiking displeasure at the tardiness of their awaited guests. Kate had been given an update earlier that Rear Admiral Myers and her party had touched down on time. So, what could possibly be stalling them?

Gaz perked at the new information. “The Navy, you said?” his gaze shifted between Laswell and Price. “You interested in tellin’ the Navy Admiral to sod off if they show?” asked the third Brit in the room. The corner of Gaz’s mouth quirked, “You’re barking at the wrong tree, mate. Soap appears to be a better candidate than I.”

Soap scoffed yet his spirits seemed to lift at the topic. He pointed his pocket knife at Gaz and Ghost, “Naw jist haud on. Dinnae ken about that, but I’m gaunnie skelp a memo up those navy numpties’ unpunctual hides. Aye, make ‘em greet layk wee bairns.” he said.

Gaz released a half-suppressed laugh at Soap’s words that he didn’t fully understand, whereas Ghost rolled his eyes. “Fucking Scots,” he drawled. On the other hand, Price and Laswell chose to disregard Soap’s flippancy due to mutual thoughts…and because they were slightly amused. 

But their banter was cut short when the door rattled open. 

Speaking of the devil, Rear Admiral Myers sauntered in sporting the prominent dark navy blue service uniform. Her sleeves displayed two golden bands and above her chest two silver stars. The Task force formally acknowledged the presence of the rear admiral by standing up at attention, addressing the Navy admiral simultaneously. Kate met R.Adm. Loraine Myers halfway offering a handshake, “We’ve been expecting you, Rear Admiral Myers. I’m glad you’re here.”

“My apologies for my late coming, Chief Laswell. Got side-tracked a bit back there with a call,” R.Adm. Myers apologized, to which Gaz deliberately raised a daring brow at Soap. Laswell proceeded with brief introductions of herself and Task Force 141.

At last, the remaining navy sailors entered the meeting room led by an older soldier.

Laswell espied your five-member group which Myers noticed. “Laswell, here’s the team of the S.W.C.C. I mentioned before: Captain Benson, Lieutenant Junior Grade Hunter, and Lieutenants Griffs, Weston, and…” the admiral pointed at each respective sailor, ending with your surname. 

You all acknowledged Laswell and the Task Force. The captains even exchanged a couple of words between themselves. Both men were well-experienced through years or service yet Benson was on the older side. “Captain Price, I’m looking forward to working with you and your team,” said Benson, who grasped the Brit’s hand firmly. Price gave the slightly shorter man a curt nod, “Same here, Captain Benson. Hope the trip hasn’t made you all knackered.”

“Been a while since I’ve left my post, very refreshing. The air out here is less salty, if you ask me,” Benson jested. Smile lines decorated his cheeks under his salt and pepper scruff. 

Your team walked further in just as Laswell revived the projector. Soldiers from different military branches eyed each other's unfamiliar faces. Ghost, with his skulled balaclava on, received second looks. But being himself he simply looked back unabated. Surprisingly, one of the female sailors, named Hunter, paused behind him, bent down, and asked plainly, “‘Scuse me, sir. Not to be rude or anything but where can I purchase a cool mask like yours?”

Soap and Gaz, who sat on either side of Ghost, overheard. They exchanged looks — stunned by the woman’s boldness. Soap was about to interfere but someone got to it before he could act.

You landed a heavy hand on Hunter’s lower back eliciting a yelp from her. “Quit being rude, fool,” you scolded Hunter with a frown. Fortunately, none of the captains, the admiral, and Laswell had noticed the interaction as they were occupied skimming through each other’s printed files. 

You clicked your tongue, cocking your head to the side for her to continue walking. A sigh erupted from across the table, it was Lieutenant Frederick Griffs.

“Apologies, Lieutenant Riley. My comrade lacks proper manners when…inquisitive,” Griffs let out a strained cough. “We’ll sort her out ourselves after. Please, excuse her.”

“She’s all yours,” Ghost simply dismissed. He distinctly remembered a similar encounter with a certain Scot who demonstrated a rather bold greeting as well. 

You escorted Hunter as she rubbed the sore spot on her back. 

Ariel Hunter is the youngest in your group, 26 summers old, who still had the aura of a young-in. But, you and your group knew that she only seemed immature due to her curious nature. Honed exemplary skills of a promising sailor no doubt, but you looked out for her most times because the eldest-child-streak in you runs on auto-pilot. 

“Third hit today, really?” Hunter groaned. You pulled out the chair for her, “You’re incorrigible, Ariel. Keep your head straight, will ya?” 

Weston turned in his seat to present a teasing grin, “Yeah, Ariel, focus or else Ms. Sebastian here is going to be all up your ass. Poor you,” he used a thumb to point at you. Ariel snickered behind her hand at his joke referencing ‘The Little Mermaid’.

You flashed him a mocking grin while choosing a seat at the end of the table, right across a sergeant named MacTavish.

“Mind if I take this seat, Sgt. MacTavish?” you asked him. He looked up at you and shook his head. “No. Ye go ahead, Lieutenant.” You thanked him softly and took your seat. The minutes to follow required your full attention. 

“Soldiers, you are here to be informed that our target is a smuggling organization operating on the East shores. A covert mission with an assault team formed between Task Force 141 and the SWCCs, mission ‘Shark Coast’,” Laswell began. 

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**

// 3:53 P.M. //

On the East coast within one of the hidden sites of the smuggling organization.

Soap pushed the battered door open and immediately ran to your crumpled form on the ground, walking right past the wounded corpse of a patrol guard that you’d taken down. The walls of the 3-story building weren’t going to hold much longer. The brittle concrete echoed throughout the compound sprinkling you in powder of cement. 

“Lieutenant! Ye awright, lassie?” He examined your body for signs of injuries even when you’d said you were good. “Thought I saw a familiar ally sneaking past the warehouse,” he hoisted you up by the arm. “Right, let’s get out of here.”

Your forehead scrunched further and critical eyes snapped to him. “MacTavish,” you spoke, voice hoarse, “what the fuck took you so long–”. The sudden urge to cough struck your tonsils. You coughed up the dust stuck in your throat spitting the mixture of saliva and dirt to the side. Soap stepped back to give you space at an arm’s length. You heaved, feeling the irritation in your throat alleviate a considerable amount. 

“Ten damn minutes of no response. Captain was about to burst a vein whether to come back for you or consider you K.I.A, sergeant,” you apathetically addressed the soldier. “Price wanted to stay back — refused to even get near the boat — but Benson agreed that I come look for you so everyone could exfil to secure intel at camp. Reinforcement will wait at the extraction point.”

But before Soap could explain why he had temporarily become M.I.A, small chunks from the ceiling began to drop. Both soldiers heard the metallic screeches around the building, solid pressure forcing metal to succumb.”Shite,” grunted Soap. Both of you ducked instinctively when a bigger portion of cement fell nearby.

“Take cover!” he shouted as the floor began to shake. Both of you leg it. Slinging rifles over your shoulders, you both maneuvered across the rubble heading straight for the desk by the opposite wall — the only furniture to shield both of you. You made it under the desk first, palms pressing up its surface to stabilize it. Soap gets underneath it beating the plummeting chunks and dirt a second early which would have landed on him. 

Eyes shut and faces turned the opposite way avoiding the cloud of gray powder that followed. “Fucking hell!” cursed Soap, coughing a bit into the crease of his arm. “No fucking shit!” you commented. Bits and pieces rolled over the edge of the desk overhead; all three floors projecting the wails of the collapsing building. 

You pushed up harder as the desk rattled. One hand goes down to check your radio, “Damn it all,” you cursed. You saw its wire torn right at the top, unmistakably caused by the physical fight with an enemy earlier. All of a sudden, Soap’s comms went off, his earpiece projecting mere glitches and static due to the weak signal; yet he spoke into it with hope that the receiver would catch his message. “Shark-Seven-One, negative on exit route –” a loud crash interrupted him. He doesn’t waste another second, “Building’s ‘bout to give out. Second floor fourth room on the right! We’re trapped!” But no clear response from the receiver came through. 

His comms weren’t working, that’s why.

Your thoughts are frenzied as you list the possibilities of your awaiting fate.

(a) I could be buried alive.

(b) We miraculously survive yet are halfway dead.

(c) I’d lose a limb or two, or paralyzed.

(d) Brain matter coats this sorry excuse of a building.

(e) We’re found but as good as dead.

Try me. Let it fucking try me. 

Your eyes scanned the area frantically. The wall to your left was almost entirely full of sliding glass windows. Large enough for a person to climb out of, luckily Soap can fit through. Your hands searched the pockets of your tactical bag for the dynamic rope. Soap noticed your sudden behavior. “Ye’ve got a plan, lass!” he exclaimed over the noise.

You cocked your head towards the windows explaining hurriedly,  “We rappel down and pray we’ve got some cushioning down there if we need to jump.” He mimicked you and pulled out a rope he had from his pack. “Getting buried alive isn’t my thing.”

You tied the rope around your thighs and waist. “Are you in?!”

The look in Soap’s eyes changed as he listened to you. His baby blue eyes shrouded with valor, “Aye, I’m with ye!” 

“Then keep up, Sarge!” You stepped out and bolted for the windows with cautious steps. You both heard glass crackle as the portion above the window breaks. A split in the glass lengthened gradually. Pressured by the time running out — you sent a gloved fist through the brittle barrier. “God damn —” you swore.

“Sufferin’ Jesus — are ye good?” he yelled. You replied sarcastically, “Jesus is perfectly fine.” 

Soap scoffed butwore a subtle smile as he tied the end of your ropes to the frame with haste before he slid it open for a wider exit. You ignored the pulsating ache of your fist as you swiped at the edges of the metal frame with a large portion of cement you’d picked up to clear off the shards.

Both of you peered down; twenty feet above, give or take. “There’s nothing,” you huffed. You’d both have to rappel all the way to the ground.

 A piercing crash outside the room had both of you duck out of reflex. Then a second crash —

“Jump, Soap!” He turned to face you, shocked. “You first–”

You grabbed the top of his vest and tugged it hard, giving him a firm, persistent look, “Show yourself out, or else I’m kickin’.”

Third crash. Fourth…

You pushed him toward the exit, twisted a section of his rope around the metal frame and both of your palms, and braced your foot on the window frame.

“Run for the open field once you get down. Now move it!” 

Soap quickly climbed out and took position by hanging on the edge of the window sill. He paused to look up at you. “I’ll see down there, L.T.,” he said, words solid they could have been stone. You nodded, “Affirm.”

He sucked in a breath then repelled his way down as fast as he could while you stabilized the rope for his safe descent.

Once his rope lost tension, you climbed out; you even lost your footing when a portion under your boot came off which made your heart pause in alarm. The air was thick in your nostrils as gray particles accumulated behind you. “Shit, shit, shit…” you chanted.

You mindlessly continued to talk to yourself out of stress, “Don’t be a coward. You’re a sailor who dives off the warship. Better I be shot between the eyes than be a damn pussy in this bitch–”

“Jump, woman!” Soap called out from a distance, warning you of the seconds that had passed unbelievably fast. Although you barely heard him over the noise as the second floor finally gave out right as you jumped with all your might. 

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~

// 8:26 P.M. //

Within the heavily guarded grounds of the military campsite.

The dark of night mostly kept the camp shrouded from outsiders. Dim lights and lanterns lit the interiors and exteriors of the surrounding tents.

“If ye’d seen what she did, L.T.. A dare-devil, that lassie,” Soap voiced exasperatedly at his passive teammate. Task Force 141 had just finished being debriefed and both Soap and Ghost were headed in the same direction for a well-earned break. As soon as they had left Laswell’s tent, Soap began to run his mouth describing your near-death experience. 

“Jumping off a bloody window; hangin’ from a shabby branch as if ‘em messenger storks dropped her from the skies like those wee bairns carried in white sheets,” exclaimed Soap in disbelief; forehead crumpled and hands waving in the air as he walked backwards facing Ghost. 

Ghost rolled his eyes subtly at his companion’s behavior, “Quit that Johnny or you’ll lose your bloody footing—”

“And then the lass cursed at me! For not helping her down sooner!” Soap’s mind vividly replayed the scene of you hanging for dear life by arms and legs on the dingy branch, rope connected to the debris a few meters away pulling your hips down a bit. 

“Don’t just stand there gaping like a fish and cut the rope you useless bastard!” you yelled at him as he stood stunned, gaping up at you from a distance.

He huffed at the memory, and it was almost as if he could hear your stern voice now.

Under his breath he muttered, “Jings, crivvens, help mah boab.”

Ghost shook his head. “It’s one thing your comms were bollocked or you’d’ve heard me cursin’ your ear off for not reaching the boat on time,” he blatantly commented.

Soap raised a taunting brow at him, “What’s the difference? Ye’d take pleasure cursin’ me anyway.”

“Hit the nail right on its fucking head.”

“— beat you Ford, drop it already!” Your sharp voice that pierced through the dark of night made Soap react instantly. He caught Ghost’s eyes scanning him up and down because of how tense he suddenly got.

Soap regained his composure before turning around to spot the source. And there you stood outside a large green tent with two of your comrades, Weston and Griffs. He and Ghost both watched as you landed a low kick behind Frederick Griffs’ legs; whose laughter doubled at your sudden aggression, side stepping out of your reach.

Gerald “Gator” Weston perked up when he noticed Soap and Ghost a few paces away. “Evenin’ fellas!” he called out with a hand up. “You two done for the day?” he asked.

You and Griff’s bicker halted to acknowledge Soap and Ghost who’d walked closer. Ghost nodded his head whereas Soap quirked his lips in recognition.

“Lieutenants. Aye, I’m accompanying Ghost for a quick smoke,” replied Soap. “Said I’d spook the others if I’m found alone out here,” Ghost added.

This caused the three of you to react and Soap’s grin to widen. Griffs chuckled, “Respectfully Ghost, with them shadows on your side, you’d be mistaken for a phantom.” 

“And you’re an idiot, Ford…” You commented lowly, using his nickname. Griffs held his hands up in surrender, a mischievous smile plastered on his lips, “My bad. Just kidding.” He tipped his head at Ghost. 

“Tell me something I’ve yet to hear,” Ghost scoffed.

“Thank you, Ghost but I’m passing that privilege to the next person  — oof!” 

You stepped in, “What he means, L.t. Riley, is that it is a privilege his tongue can wag even when threatened of being cut off.” You peered down at Griffs who was hunched over from your jab, and you fought the urge to grimace at him. Weston was busy containing his laughter behind his hand. 

Soap couldn’t help but be attentive with your behavior. He took note that you seemed to frequently keep your teammates in check, under control. And he couldn’t help but somehow trace the same behavior back when you had risked your life coming back to search for his missing ass, and perhaps to shoot him down yourself.

Weston spoke up, “And it seems Ford here deserves a couple of minutes to self-reflect on the matter,” he jerked his head towards Griffs, “so don’t let us keep you both from goin’ about. Have a good evenin’ then.” 

Griffs straightened his back carefully. His right hand hovered above his sore gut but he still managed to flash a pained smile at Ghost and Soap, waving a hand in the air. 

“Lassie.”

You looked up and found his eyes on you. Soap stood about three-feet away, yet strangely he felt near. Everything else even felt too quiet as you focused on him.

Odd. 

The feel of the air surrounding you had shifted quickly. You would’ve taken a step back weren’t it for the sight of his chin hovering above the top of his chest as he gazed at you through his eyelashes. “I just wanted to say…” Soap’s tongue fumbled as he said your name. 

Much odd.

Soap blinked in realization that he had been looking at you unusually longer than normal. His eyes alternated between you and whatever. “I’ve yet to properly thank you, havnae I?” Soap sounded more embarrassed as his own words sunk in. 

“Thank ye for getting me out alive. Ye saved us both. I could be laying in my grave — or in a jar, if it wasnna for you,” his boots shuffled the dirt underneath. His eyes met yours again, but this time without breaking eye-contact. “I owe ye one, Lieutenant… Truly.”

Soap may not have noticed himself but the sudden sincerity that coated his words had you momentarily stunned. “But, it was you who found me first. Remember?” you reminded him.

“I ken. But it was your idea. And yer threat that got my hide moving, remember?”

You scoffed as if to say, ‘alright, fine’. “It’s no problem, really. I was just doing my job. You’re welcome, Sgt. MacTavish,” you responded quite flustered.

“Soap — call me, Soap,” he corrected quickly. The corner of your lips quirked upward, “Alright, Soap. If you insist.” You offered him a hand, “Go by San, or Saint, whichever you prefer. Though I’m afraid I only earned such a title through a joke. May God forgive me.” You shook your head at the memory. Soap gave your hand a firm shake.

“Saint, eh? Cannae say it doesna fit ye.”

His accent took you a second to comprehend his words but you didn’t comment on it. “He said it suits you,” Ghost explained from behind.

Soap turned to him, “Och, none o’ that! She understood what I said, L.T.”

“Whatever sings you to sleep, Johnny.”

“Haud yer weesht!”

You and the others couldn’t help but watch amused at their exchange. ‘They both get along very well’, you thought. Soap turned to you again, “I’m serious. As long as I’m able, I’m at yer service…San. Ye have my word.”

Instinctively, you would’ve told him to think of such nonsense, that his words of gratitude were enough. But the look in his eyes, the very same look you’d seen back in the mission, were compelling.

You took a step closer to him, bringing a friendly fist upon his collarbone. “I see no reason not to take your word,” your hand dropped to your side. “I appreciate it, Soap.”

Soap’s expression brightened. His hand reached around to clap you on your shoulder.

“I kent ye wouldna.”

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**

Days, weeks, till almost four months have passed with the team consumed in carrying out mission after mission against the smugglers. It was tiring for everyone due to battles being fought on both water and land.

Although soldiers — no matter how tough — always found a way to raise their spirits, as did you. And to your surprise, conversing with a certain Scotsman became a daily routine.

As the entire mission was coming to its near end, the sight of him from a distance had you thinking back to some of the memorable interactions with him from the past couple of months.

One time, Hunter had snatched your unfinished written report and ran straight out of the tent. Most probably to reference some ideas to include in hers. Coincidentally, Soap had been nearby.

“Ariel — your ass is mine!”

“Pipe down, lassie, or you'll be mistaken for a bear. And there are no bears here, ye ken.”

You crossed your arms. “Better a bear than a rubber bird. Ain’t that right, ”

His mouth stretched into a grin, “I aim to charm, milady.” He did a neck bow while his hand twirled in the air. “Dear damsel, how may I allay your misfortune?” 

You released a sigh at his gentleman-act but accepted his offer to help. “Tell you what,” I looked him in the eyes, “you get my papers back unripped, and I’ll consider our agreement fair and done. Hm?”

He clicked his tongue. “You cannae be serious about getting yer papers back as being equal as when ye saved me.” He walked closer, stopping to stand before you. “I’ll go an’ get ‘em but my debt still stands. Unpaid, mind ye.”

He returned a while later with your report, with its thief.

Or that one time when almost every team member had gathered to eat dinner by the bonfire and you’d taken upon yourself to tend to other’s needs so the hungry soldiers could eat undisturbed after a hurricane of duties.

“Take it already…Where’s the water? Weird how you ask me as soon as you sit down, huh?...Captain, can I get you anything?...You too, Gaz? Anyone else want some water? Alright.” You made your way ‘round back the camp’s mobile kitchen in hope’s of this being a one-time trip.

You were preoccupied filling your hands with bottles of water when a hand unexpectedly plucked two from your clutch. “I’ll take it from here, San. Go on and eat yer dinner. Ye can take my spot over there, I’m done anyways.”

“I can manage. I’ll pass these around first then eat,” you declined and grabbed another bottle before turning on your heel.

He blocked your way. “Don’t you worry. I got it. Here, let me take them from ye,” he persisted. He left you the second he’d taken every single bottle.

“Now who ordered water?! Garrick? Didna you walk just fine seconds before? Here’s yer blasted water. Get you a spoon? There’s one by yer feet, wash it with yer water, eejit. You’re wasting fine utensils.”

And another, after a recon mission at a different hostile hideout that almost lasted two days.

“Medic! We need medic now!” someone yelled from the warship’s weather deck. 

Your speedboat was the last to exfil out due to the heavy cargo on board, causing your trio to be sitting ducks for the hostiles to take out. But using bullets wasn’t an option for them due to the fragile cargo. Whatever was in those couldn’t be damaged, and as their final attempt to retrieve the cargo, they utilized a chemical weapon called “mustard agent”. 

Luckily back up on-land were able to take the hostiles out making it possible for a narrow escape, but with a cost.

“I’m fine so help Ford!” you stepped back to steer clear of the two medical members. They had been attempting to calm you down since you got on the warship but your eyes always checked to see Ford. You tried to ignore the intense itch on your forearms as you held them up to avoid physical contact. A hand suddenly grabbed the collar of your vest forcefully. “Lieutenant!” bellowed Cpt. Benson.

You looked up at him with trepidation. Not because of him, but because of Ford’s state. You could hear the pained noises as other medics tended him. Benson jerked you back once, “Wake. Up.”

You both stared each other dead in the eyes. And with that look a lot was spoken. He immediately released his grip when you had realized your irrationality.

“Let them help you,” he motioned for the two medical soldiers. “Ford is in good hands, I promise. But if you die from infection, I’ll make sure to write your cause of death as ‘stupidity’.” Benson’s gaze shifted to look behind you. “Ah. Sgt. Soap, mind if I ask you to accompany Saint while she gets examined?”

You turned your face halfway to look behind you through the corner of your eyes. Soap wore a neutral expression as he replied, “Not at all, sir. I’ll stay with her.”

With that, he made sure you got everything you needed to recover the rest of the day. He’d even updated you on Griffs’ state, leaving you a handful of times to check for himself, even when you’d told him not to. No matter how many times you’d told him it was fine to leave you in the infirmary, he did not budge and continued to run his mouth to “entertain”. Soap accompanied you till past midnight to switch with Hunter, much to your relief.

Stubborn, mohawked Scot. 

Your hands may have been covered in blisters but your foot did the job in interrupting his rambling. Twice. 

Heaviness in the air.

A dark gray sky spread overhead. “Move aside,” Griffs grumbled. Gaz mimicked his movement, blocking him. “Easy, mate. Let them finish first, yeah?” Gaz reasoned, but was disregarded.

Griffs looked past Gaz to face Cpt. Benson. “Tell me which one did it,” he fumed. “Ford, get your head straight, son,” Benson ordered. “You’ll get your answers but I ain’t gonna listen to you actin’ like that.”

Every soldier present could see how infuriated your comrade was. Weston was angry as well but he controlled it far more better. His attention, however, was too focused on Griffs to notice your furtive movements headed elsewhere.

In the center of camp, soldiers crowded the front of the makeshift interrogation room. Soap and Ghost stood from the sides, each guarding an assailant. 

Three assailants had perpetrated the attack off-camp earlier and one of them was being questioned inside by the captains, including Laswell. Their group of six — now with three dead — ambushed the soldiers patrolling the camp in the early hours this morning. Hunter had been with the group doing her rotations.

She’s currently secluded in the camp’s infirmary being examined. One of the men was responsible for dislodging her right arm, plus a stab wound — unsure yet how many — aimed for the kidney.

How greatly you both wished to reciprocate an eye for an eye.

Griffs’s fury came from the battered state he saw his teammate in; your wrath came from the thought of Hunter’s suffering.

The captain turned on his heel to join the interrogation. “Damn it, Cap’n! I won’t kill the man!” he called after Benson. But he’ll wish he was dead, he mentally added. 

Everyone knew he’d charge with belligerence.

 Weston approached Griffs. “Listen to them, man. We need your head clear since more of them could come. I get how you’re doing this for Ariel’s sake, but don’t do it. Just — not like this.”

Unfortunately, reasoning with him was no use. Especially not when something upsetting caught Griffs’s eye.

“The fuck you smiling for, shitface?” Griffs reacted, chest heaving from anger. Everyone was stunned at his outburst but quickly found the cause.

One second their eyes were on one of the assailants; a second later they shifted to you.

No one had noticed you’d gotten close enough, except Ghost. The moment you pulled out your handgun, Ghost aimed his own at you. Your arm stiffened and hand tightened around the grip; gun’s muzzle aimed at the face of the smirking man guarded by Soap.

 “Got something you want to say?”

“San?” Soap exhaled under his breath and immediately lowered his gun as his gaze alternated between you and Ghost. He had reacted on reflex when he heard the cocking of a gun thinking it was an enemy. His heart fell when he saw you.

You took heavy steps towards the arrogant scum. “Pleas, prayers, confessions,” you spat, “now’s the fucking time to wag that tongue before I put a bullet through it — ”

“Stop there, Lieutenant!” Ghost commanded raucously. His warning fell on deaf ears but his finger hovered over the trigger. Soap’s eyes took in the dark look in your eyes, aggravation took over your senses. But, he empathized with your actions.

Soap knew the feeling all too well and decided right at that moment that he wouldn’t stop you. Not unless your intentions were to commit a grave mistake, only then would he interfere.

At the same time, Weston walked up behind you. “San, drop the gun.”

“I did,” confessed the man, adding fuel to the flames. “Too bad that girl didn’t kick the bucket or I’d’ve broken her neck too — “ Soap yanked him back by the collar tightly that made him choke. Griffs roared in frustration from the back. “Son of a bitch!”

Weston whispered in your ear hurriedly, “Give me the gun and I won’t stop you and Griffs from roughing him up a bit. No blades, just hands, clear?”

You give it thought.

Ghost lowered his gun as you surrendered yours. Soap’s eyes never left your face — taking in the fiery satisfaction that seemed to reflect in your eyes at the expense of your gun. Immediately, you advanced toward them and strode with feral purpose.

His organ lurched at the smirk that appeared on your lips, teeth peeking behind the flesh as it stretched. 

He drank in the sight, greedily.

Arrogance seemed to drain from the man’s face as you drew nearer. With the momentum of your last step you landed a forceful blow to his gut. The force knocked him back on to Soap, who only pushed him back forward.

“Where’d your smile go?” you mocked. “Forget about the bullet, so smile, asshole.” 

“You fucking cun—” You landed a second punch. His coughs doubled from the pain. Still, between broken breaths, he managed to make an empty threat. “I’ll kill you.”

He's painfully straightened back up by his hair. Soap tugged harder as the man thrashed against him.

Soap shot you a look, holding the man steady.

Do it. 

One look was all it took you to tighten your fists again then delivering three hard blows to the man’s stomach.

Third.

Fourth.

The fifth punch on his cheek.

Splat. He spat out a mixture of blood and saliva.

You breathed heavily as you scrutinized his state. 

He looked far better compared to Hunter’s. So you grabbed the halfway-unconscious man from Soap’s hold, dragging him roughly by the shirt as his legs struggled to catch up.

The man dropped to his knees and arms once you pushed him towards Griffs.

Griffs looked vengeful as he studied the weakened assailant whose smirk was long gone. His body thrummed with anticipation to finally get even. For Hunter.

“You wished you had broken her neck, you said?” he repeated dangerously.

Fear gradually enveloped the man, his legs scrambling to push against the dirt to get away from the soldier. “I had orders, okay? I was just following orders!” But he’s grabbed by the shirt once again hauled back up by Griffs.

The man wasn’t given a chance to respond when two punches pummeled the center of his face. “Your words, scum. Not theirs.” The consecutive punch that followed goes for his nose. 

Crunch.

 A string of blood and mucus seeped out his nostrils, stringing itself onto Griff’s knuckles.

A gurgled cry broke out. Weak, but panic-filled rush drove the man to push against the soldier. Holding on tighter, Griffs delivered a sharp and swift blow to the man’s forehead using his head.

“Mph —” Cross-eyed from the sudden blow, extreme dizziness clouded the man’s senses. “Fucking coward,” Griffs spat. He let go to flick the sap off his knuckles.

Another pair of arms wrapped around the man from behind.

“No, no! Please, stop. Get away from me!” the man cried out. You soldiers wouldn’t actually kill him on the spot… Right?

The muscles of your arms contracted around his neck, cutting his airway. 

“Ack —”

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two…

“Right. That’s it, both o’ you.”

With contempt, you released the unconscious man whose body fell sideways on the ground. “Johnny,” Ghost called out, and jerked his head towards you. “Get her out o’ here.”

Without delay, Soap led you away with his hand atop your shoulder guiding you forwards. 

Ghost’s authoritative voice gradually rendered the soldiers back to attention. He called out to Griffs, “Prop that sod somewhere else. You’ll bring him in, and he better be up an’ talkin’ by the time the boss asks for ‘im. ”

The lieutenant’s further instructions tuned out the further you got.

Now quiet and sobered, you followed the sergeant without resistance. Amidst the chilly air, his palm and arm gradually warmed your shoulders as it remained there. Soap’s silence was odd to you; he was never this silent, not even on duty. 

You picked up the pace which had him let go of you. You took a seat on the firm ground by the large roots of a tree. “Lost a tongue, MacTavish?” you asked without sparing him a glance.

Soap scoffed, feigning annoyance. “Och, again with the ‘MacTavish’, lass.”

You huffed from the ache in your hand that started to throb. Shallow peeled-skin had a fine layer of dried blood, but the rest of it was from the other guy and a mixture of other slimy substances.

You breathed in, then out. 

“If you plan on reporting us to the superiors,” you started, “it’d be wise for a promising soldier as you to get on with it; the faster the paperwork ‘bout our roughhousing gets done.”

Soap took his place on the other side of the tree; shoulder against it, weight leaning on one leg. “I’ll leave the decision to Ghost,” he answered, which you thought confirmed what you assumed: that you’ll end up suspended, or something fair. “But I wager he’d say ‘twas a disciplinary act. Probably less.” 

Soap saw how swiftly you eyed him through his peripheral. “Lieutenant Riley?” you asked with disbelief. Ghost would never let that ruckus go undisclosed, especially from the captains. The man doesn’t seem like the type of soldier to do such a thing. Plus, he seemed unbothered with shooting you down earlier till you passed your gun.

“You’re messing with me.”

Soap reacted with an upside down smile. “Am not.” He distinctly remembered the almost non-existent chuckle — more like scoff — from Ghost when both Griffs and you were passing the unfortunate man back and forth.

You slumped, unsure whether to believe his words or not.

“He wouldna stop a bonnie lass from getting her fill. A sight for sore eyes, you were.”

“‘Bonnie’?” you asked. Soap clicked his tongue at his forgetfulness that the Scottish slang was still new to you. “Means pretty. That gaze-stealing charm the likes of ye have.”

His answer is met with a stretched silence. 

“‘The likes of me’ — you calling me pretty now, sergeant?” 

Your teasing voice felt like a warm breeze seeping in the chilly air. Relieved by your response, Soap hummed in approval. “Bonnie and strong. Poor lad’s lights went out,” his tongue clicked with feign empathy. “I wouldna want to suffer a shameful fate by the same hands. I’d shit mah fuckin’ breeks — unconscious or no’.”

You bellowed a hearty laugh, eyes squinted from the stretch of your lips. Soap basked in the melting sound of your laughter warming his insides. It was his first time seeing you unguarded, all seriousness gone. It made his heart thicken knowing that he made you feel so. 

You stood as the last echoes of your giggles dissipated. Your head and heart were no longer heavy and throbbing. In fact, anger still lingered with the thought of Hunter being in the infirmary.

The sight of his raised brow and smirk was so contagious that you flashed him a playful one in return. “Bet you Scots shake people up with flattery. Nice trick, playboy. You got me.”

Soap relished with the nickname you called him, like he could flaunt it this second to anyone. His confidence grew by the second that at the height of the moment he spurted…

“Yer in luck. We only flatter the real bonnie ones we like.” Soap shrugged his shoulders as if to show triviality behind his reason. It was quite the opposite. 

He tried to mask his mini-confession by adding, “Well — people and whiskey.”

His words earned another fit of chuckles from you. “You like whiskey, huh?”

“ Aye. Hand me a glass of fine uisge, I’d nurse it the entire night.” His accent oozed. You watched as he swept a hand through his buzz cut hair.

Without really thinking you uttered the word, “Uisge… uisge…”

From his hair, his hand subtly moved down to cover the growing grin on his lips. “Uisge–beatha,” Soap slowly repeated in hopes to hear your best mimic. His hearing heightened with anticipation.

And you did not disappoint. 

“Uisge–beatha.” Before you could turn to see Soap’s reaction, he’s already walking away returning to camp. Confused as hell, you crossed your arms and waited a few seconds for him to call you to follow. He didn’t.

You were oblivious to notice how Soap flushed just from you mimicking him. He adored the way you put so much care in your pronunciation. His own reaction shocked him that he began to walk it off in hopes it would die down before you could see. 

You began to walk with rapid steps. “Where’re you going…Soap? Hey!” you yelled.

“You need to clean your hand. And I need a drink,” he said nonchalantly. 

“No drinking on-duty,” you reprimanded glaring at the back of his head, still unable to catch up.

With one further stride of your own, you knocked your shoulder against his arm. It was firmer than you thought. Curse his muscles. “That was for leaving me,” you said with a frown, staring ahead.

“I’m not drinking alcohol, I’m just thirsty. You, however, have that arse’s muck on ye with an open skin. It’s unsanitary, San.” Soap glimpsed at you. “Wash it thoroughly an’ I’ll patch it up for ye.”

Soap led you to the mobile latrines leaving you to wash up, whereas he left for the spare medical tent nearby to get the necessary medicine. Your shared tent with Hunter was closer compared to his. “I’ll meet you there.”

You’d been sitting on your bed, droplets of water dripping down your cheeks, chin, and fingers when he’d rejoined you. “I didn’t leave you looking like that,” he said amused as he drew nearer. You hummed, not bothered by your appearance. The cool water provided a refreshing sensation. 

“Do you want to stay in my good graces and help, or get kicked out?” His heart surged for the nth time that day seeing your heated temper spark from its brief slumber. 

Soap dropped down on one knee to your right while laying out the items on your bed by you. “Wee devil. Done with hands, using legs now?” he surmised. He offered up a hand and a raised brow asking permission.

You shot him a pointed look before placing your damp hand in his. He shook his head, hiding a small smile. He took an antiseptic wipe and carefully dabbed your knuckles with it. Observing his actions, you took note how precise his process was. He even cleaned the underside of your nails that hadn’t washed off entirely. 

“Thanks, Soap.”

“It’s nothing.”

You clamped your mouth shut from making him think otherwise. It is something you damn Scotsman.

“Consider us even. You don’t have to keep a lookout for me anymore.” 

He paused. For some reason, neither of you could look at the other. “You want me to stop?” he asked.

Soap felt how still you got, even your breathing paused a second too long. Your fingers in his palm pulsed a fraction before you nodded. “You’d waste your time if this went any longer.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Your eyes snapped to him. You took in the sergeant’s grim expression, even the brightness of his eyes were different. And based on the tone of his voice, Soap was angry. 

His expression had you confused all of a sudden, but sparked your own temper. “You don’t have to. I am telling you to stop.”

You were about to pull your hand back but his fingers clamped to your wrist. You bit back a swear and tugged harder. His hold slipped but he took you by surprise by lunging forward to pin you against your bed; arms caging you in place. His knees had pushed both your legs to the side preventing you from kneeing him in the crotch. 

You hissed, “How dare you —” 

His hand reached out to pin your wrist by your head. “Ye want me to stop?”

“Yes and get the fuck off me!”

Soap released a deep sigh, and shook his head. “Looking out for you, do you want me to stop?”

Your glaring eyes tore away to look past him. “Yes, and don’t make me repeat myself, asshole. Get off.”

The pad of his thumb on your pulse loosened. “Lying again,” he accused. Your heart rate and your behavior. He’d confirmed you were indeed lying.

Piece of shit. This idiotic piece of shit! You swore in mentally.

Seeing how emotionally strained you were, Soap did not like how he was the cause of it. He knew you would’ve fought against him harder but your confliction was apparent. You didn’t want to lay a violent hand on him. Not on Soap. Not on another good thing that made your job more bearable and worth it.

Soap fixated his gaze on your joint hands. “Back in our first operation, ye asked me if I was with you,” he said. “I am. I’m here an' we’re in this together. Just… say the word and I’ll get my hands bloody so you don’t have to.” He took another deep breath in. 

“I dinnae mind lookin' out for ye. It’s no' a waste of my time. Just, please, don’t push me away.”

As he waited for your reaction, subconsciously, he started to rub your wrist soothingly with his thumb; a quiet apology for pressing down on it earlier. 

“I’ll push you right now if you don’t get off of me.” Your sudden threat had him back off. Both of you were facing different directions, avoiding any accidental look at each other. “Sorry,” he muttered, the feeling of embarrassment creeping in. You covered your face with a hand, the ghost of Soap’s soothing touch left tingles. 

You couldn’t see how Soap had started to cave into himself from embarrassment. 

Soap couldn’t see how red your face had gotten. Or the palpitation of your heart.

Soap wanted to leave so bad but he wouldn’t, not when you haven’t given him an answer. He mustered up the tiny bit of courage he could. But your voice beat him first.

“Do whatever you want. I’m not the boss of you,” you breathed out exasperated with your feelings, dragging your palm down your face. “But if you cross a line, so God help me —”

'I'll get my hands bloody so you don't have to.' Your heart lurched.

You’re pulled back by the shoulder to properly face Soap. The shine in his eyes unmistakable.

“D'ye mean it, San?” he asked, elated with your answer. The frown on your lips dipped further but so did your flushed skin. He had a clear view of it now, and he drank it in as much as he could.

You wanted to escape from him. 

Soap withdrew when you stood. “Don’t follow me,” you spoke through clenched teeth as your hand swiped at your balaclava from atop your table. His longer legs caught up to you easily. Was even able to dodge your swinging arm while you demanded he leave you alone. 

He even held up the flap of the tent’s entrance as you marched past him. 

He was back to acting like his old self the moment you two were outside. “I dinnae like to leave ye. I'll keep ye company, wee Saint of mine.”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph —

You pulled your mask down taut, shielding your identity from bypassers. One of the soldiers even called out to Soap as you walked — more like jogged — past. “Sergeant Soap! Garrick’s been wondering where you are. Said you’re needed by Cpt. Price —”

“They can manage without me! Thanks, chum!” Soap dismissed foolishly. Swatting his hand in the air like an insect was bothering him.

You turned back 'round to get up in his face. Scowling. “The captain’s looking for you, dumbass! You better get going or else I’m —”

“Or else you’ll, what?” he leaned down to your level. Smirk widening. Your brows, eyes, and nose bridge may have been the only skin visible but he caught sight of the slight tinge of red creeping beneath the hem.

He expected you to turn away and resume your escape, but he did not mind that you only stepped closer.

As if you weren’t close enough, you dared to challenge it. 

“You think I’m bluffing?”

“I dinnae believe it till I see it, lass.”

Your eyes pierced, accepting the challenge. “Bet.” 

the end

#soap call of duty #call of duty x reader #soap x you #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x y/n #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #simon ghost riley #captain john price #gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #ghost call of duty #price call of duty #cod fluff #cod imagine #cod smut #cod x reader #konig fanfiction #cod konig #cod keegan #modern warfare x reader

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Fake it till you make it - Charles x fem reader

AN: After all the posts about Charles and A from this weekend, I got this idea. Honestly, I just care about that situation because I'm nosey but don't have any real interest in it, just wanted to write this idea that popped into my head. I have no idea how tennis and sponsorships work, clearly. I lost the first draft which I liked better so I might edit this one if I remember details I missed.

Warnings: Mean social media, a bad word here and there.

Synopsis: Y/n is a talented tennis player, but has a reputation of being a party animal and that scares sponsors away, so if she wants to attend Wimbledon she's going to have to fake a relationship with a recently single golden boy.

____________________________________

"You guys need to stop the bullshit and make this shit work" You always thought of this situation as a stupid game, but seeing Loraine's forehead vein about to burst reminded you that there was a lot on the line.

"But..." Charles was about to say something, from the redness on his face you knew he was as mad as the PR agent scolding you.

"No buts Charles, this is something to help you both, you knew what you were signing in to and you agreed to do this, we have 8 more months and we need this to work, so after today all I'm asking is for you to do what you're requested and stop being childish, agreed?"

You wanted to say no, maybe Charles had agreed to do this damn PR game but you were forced into it and found it stupid and insulting from your team to think that you needed to fake a relationship with some posh "athlete" to improve your image.

"I'm sorry Lor, but this is useless, we have nothing in common, ok? He drives in circles, how am I supposed to show interest in something I don't give two shits about?"

"Well, you're going to have to find a way if you want Puma to sponsor you, they're very concerned about the number of pictures of you partying and fooling around with guys all over the internet"

"They're my friends and I'm 25, they should care about what I do inside the court and not in my free time"

"And I wish I could spend the rest of my days enjoying the sun on a Spanish beach drinking margaritas but we can't all have what we want, can we?"

You were about to speak again when your "boyfriend" stood up swearing under his breath.

"Fine, whatever" he said before slamming the conference room door behind him.

Loraine let herself fall on the chair in front of you holding the bridge of her nose, it had been a long day and she was sick of it.

"Please, y/n, I wish I didn't have to do this either, but if you want to attend Wimbledon next year you're going to have to do this" She had been your pr agent for a little over a year now, and you had become friends, but this situation was idiotic.

"I just don't get it, why we couldn't do it with one of my friends? It would've been easier, at least they care about me, this guy couldn't care less, yesterday when we rode together to the track he said two words to me, "the seatbelt" and then complete silence the whole fucking ride"

"Yeah, well, the day he tried to invite you to train together you rejected him saying you were a real athlete and you didn't need him to get in the way of actual training"

You bit your cheek at the memory, in your defense, you were pretty hungover that morning and couldn't be bothered with this pr shit.

"Please?" Loraine looked at you with pleading eyes.

"Ugh, I'll try but I'm still not ok with this"

"I know, it's just until Wimbledon, you win that and this is all done"

"I don't like you right now" You stood up and walked to Charle's driver's room.

"Why should I be suffering when I'm not the one behaving like a toddler in a sugar rush?" Charles's voice made you stop as you were about to knock on his door.

"They want you to focus on your performance after the breakup"

"And me dating some brat is going to help? We need better strategies and upgrades"

"I know, and that's the team's job, but right now we just need you to focus on driving and try to convince the media that you're happily in love"

"It's going to be easier to win a fucking race in a tractor than look in love with her"

You weren't attracted to him and had no interest in having an actual relationship with the driver but his words felt like a cold punch to your chest, you couldn't be that bad, could you? You didn't want to hear any more of his rant and knocked on his door taking a deep breath trying to pretend you hadn't heard a thing.

"Come in" his dry voice made your skin crawl.

"Hi, can we talk?" His features softened, he feared you had heard him.

"I'll meet you in the garage" Andrea stood up and gave you a smile when he walked past you.

"Please" Charles stood up signaling for you to take a seat on the small sofa he had been sitting on.

"I think there's no way out of this"

"Seems like it" He leaned against the door in front of you.

"Look, I can't promise I won't say mean things, that's kind of my thing, but I will try to be nicer so we can make this work, ok?"

"I know I haven't been the best either and I'm so sorry about my behavior yesterday, I will try to do my best too"

"Sounds like a plan" You tried to give him an honest smile that probably looked more creepy than friendly but you were trying.

From that day on you two kept your word, you started easy and training seemed to be the one thing you had in common. But your gym selfies with Charles "accidentally" in the back didn't seem to convince the media your relationship was real, so you took it up a notch and started having date nights, he took you to his favorite restaurants in Monaco and the different cities during the GP's, and you tried to teach him how to cook, always uploading "candid" pics where your stuff and his were visible in the back this new plan seemed to be working little by little.

It was "date night" at your place and you were sitting on your couch scrolling through TikTok waiting on Charles when another "Charles and Y/n" edit popped up, you would usually scroll past them since you had no interest in what people had to say, if Loraine was happy it meant everything was good, but for some reason you let it play, photos of you and him musicalized with some taylor swift song playing in the back, they were mostly pictures of the beginning of the "relationship", you walking a couple steps away from him, sitting all alone inside the garage or the Ferrari hospitality and some others of you and Charles with a sour face on the way in and out the track, this pictures where surrounded by mean texts, and as if it wasn't enough, you clicked on the comments, they were even worse than the one lines, half of them claiming this was fake, the other half saying how ugly, boring, tacky and unworthy of him you seemed to be and juts a couple of them supporting the relationship.

A knock on the door startled you, you turned to look at the door as a pretty loaded Charles entered the apartment, you had given him a spare key to your place since him having to wait downstairs for you didn't seem very couple-like.

"Hi! Are you ready for the best fake date...what's wrong?" he asked worried when he saw the pained look on your face.

"Um, nothing, hi, you're early" He left the grocery bags on the kitchen counter and walked towards the sofa.

"What happened?" he asked steadily.

"Nothing, I'm fine"

"Let me see" he placed his hand in front of you and you immediately understood what he meant.

"Charles..."

"Please" If you had learned something from him this last couple of months was that he was stubborn as fuck and fighting him was pointless, so you ended up unlocking your phone and passing it to him. He looked at the screen and immediately a disgusted look covered his face.

"Why are you watching this?"

"I don't know, I usually don't but... I don't know"

"You know they're just talking out of anger and jealousy, right?"

"Well, you were on their side a couple of months ago, remember?"

"I've apologized about that, I was a dick"

"I know, and I know it's dumb that stupid comments affect me that much, I might be hormonal or something"

"Y/n, look" He threw the phone to the side and squatted in front of you taking your hands in his "This might be a fake relationship but I do care about you, and I don't want you to ever feel bad about what people say online, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this work, but you need to promise me that you won't let this kind of people get to you, I won't keep with this if what my fans say hurts you, it's not worth it."

You felt your eyes start watering and you swallowed the knot that had formed in your throat before answering him.

"Ok, I promise" you said in a low whisper.

"Good" He let go of your hands, he stood up pulling you up with him to hug you hard against his chest. "Don't let them hurt you" he said against your hair and then kissed your forehead. "Let's go, we have pasta to make"

He pulled you to the kitchen and started arranging all the ingredients.

"Instagram time" he said as he set his phone against a vase and took a picture of you for his social media.

CharlesLeclerc and Y/Naccount You are the best thing that's ever been mine. #datenight #imagreatchef #pastacrocante

LeclercLover I still don't buy his, worst PR stunt ever

16LoverCha I knew he was a Swifty!!!

CharlesandY/nluv Stop being jealous bitches and let them be happy.

ForzafFerrari I'm sorry but she seems dull and boring, what are you doing with her Baby?

You knew this post would let all hell loose for several hours so you turned off your phones and enjoyed the night together,

"It's getting late and we have an early flight tomorrow" he said taking the last sip of wine from his glass and picking up your empty plates.

"You know you can stay, right?"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, plus, I got new sheets for the guest room"

"Ooohh, fancy"

You helped him with the dishes and then went to show him his room, he had never stayed the night, normally he would sneak out of your apartment and you would do the same when you went to his, but after the amazing night you have had, him staying seemed like a good way to finish it off.

"Here, need anything else?" You said leaving a towel on the bed.

"All good"

"Thanks" you hugged him and he hugged you back.

"No problem, don't ever let them make you feel bad"

"I won't" He kissed your head and you went to your room.

The next day you landed in Suzuka and it felt as if you had shifted realities, the fans were being nicer and more respectful, and some of them even brought gifts for you, maybe the plan was finally working.

The remaining months went by easily, and you and Charles developed a nice friendship.

"How do you feel?" Charles asked from the little bench inside your locker room.

"I'm shitting myself" Your statement made him laugh, he had become a big fan of your bluntness.

"You're going to be amazing, I know" he stood up and hugged you.

"Hello, am I interrupting?" Pierre peeked through the door, a white rose in his hand.

"Baby! you made it" You rushed to the door and hugged the French driver.

"Of course love, how could I miss it" He handed you the rose and took your face to kiss your lips softly.

"Hey! She's still my girlfriend!"

"Sorry mate, couldn't help it"

A month or two after the scolding session with Loraine you started hanging out with Charle's friends and he started hanging out with yours, one of those days you met his best friend Pierre, and you hit it off right away, it was crazy how perfect you were for each other. You knew it was going to be madness the moment you broke it off with Charles and announced your relationship with Pierre, but you couldn't care less, by then you would have had win Wimbledon and shown how talented you were, so who cares what the media and the fans thought.

"Y/n, you have one minute" your trainer said from outside the locker room.

"You can do it" Pierre kissed you softly

"Thanks, baby" You kissed his nose and turned to look at Charles

"Go kick some ass" he hugged you and kissed your hair.

"Thanks, boyfriend,. See you on the other side" You took your bag and rushed to the court, ready to be done with all this nonsense.

As always, feedback it's appreciated, and let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :)

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec

#f1 imagine #f1oneshot #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x reader #pierre gasly fic #pierre gasly imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fiction #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Finally went through my following page and saw Lorain requests? I’m going to be here so much. Anyway I have an idea of like a soft fluffy lorcan bedtime routine thing. Soft lorcan is my weakness.

Right I need a strong scary fea worrier today

Tender evenings

Walking through the city streets you pulled your cloak tighter around your body. Today was a lot. You usually were able to go through the day with ease even with almost nothing going your way. It was rare for you to slip up or fail to flash someone a fake smile but today you just couldn't do it.

You wanted to blame the colder weather at first. Who truly liked the weather getting more bitter? Well, it was fun at first, sure, but now not even two weeks into the colder months, you were missing the sunshine. The lack of it only added to your cranky mood and not only yours it seemed.

You loved working for Aelin. You were just as aware of the necessity of political arrangements, meetings, visits, and other courtly nonsense. At times it was even fun to be able to have control over things like this. And finishing it off with a drink in a pub with Lysandra while you two laughed over how pathetic some of the males in the meetings that day had been would be more than enough to recharge your battery.

Today was a completely different story. You attended the meetings alone. There had been some unsettling decisions made by some members of different courts. Decisions that threatened your people. Decisions that threatened you queen and king and even if Rowan and Aelin were more than capable of defending themselves you still had your duties to carry out.

Just nothing had gone right. All you had all day were people shouting at your face. Throwing names and insults left and right. At first, you smiled through them. Smiled till the words began to sting and your mind had started to work against you. When you finally managed to get everything settled and make everyone agree on one thing it was way past the time you were supposed to have been back.

You didn't even bother to walk past the dining hall. The thought of seeing another breathing creature made your bones ache within. Plus, you knew that no owner would check the reports you had today anyways. So you slipped up the stairs to the chambers that you shared with your lover. Counting the steps till the mixed scent of both of you would feel your senses.

Lorcan. He was utterly unhappy this morning to part ways. He, Gavriel, and Fenrys were sent on their little adventure. If you could call that. Some people had to be watched and while the other two were brilliant fea worriers no one slipped through shadows more quietly than Lorcan.

"Don't miss me too much", you teased, flicking his nose playfully as you stood outside still waiting for the other two to show up. Lorcan's arms were loosely wrapped around your torso. "I give you an hour before you'll be tugging on the bond asking me to tell you that I love you", he chirped back happily, knowing from the way your mouth fell open that he was right. "Fine, fine I see how it is", you were about to cross your arms over your chest but Lorcan caught both of them in his hands. Bringing each of your plans to his lips before pulling you closer to him, so he could kiss you.

Truth be told you've been missing him ever since you two parented. It was hard not to. Lorcan was a part of you. His absence was hard to miss and you couldn't blame your heart for aching just a little. And it ached even more as you walked through the door realizing that your lover wasn't indeed back home yet.

With a deep sigh, you light the fire in the fireplace. Moving to the bathing chamber to fill up the huge tub with hot water. Knowing well that Lorcan would be as desperate for a hot bath as you were. Just maybe not as cold as you were. Considering that he was never cold, while your bones hover throbbed within you. It truly felt that the dampness of the day had settled deeper into your body than you had wanted to.

You weren't sure how much time had passed when you felt a familiar tinge in your chest. Turning your head to the side just as the door to your bedroom opened. Lorcan always did this. If he loved threatening people with his silent arrivals, breathing onto their backs, and squeezing that fear of anticipation out of them, he never came to you without announcing it first. He had made you jump multiple times beforehand. The second time results in you dropping the kettle with water in it. Luckily not boiling one but it was enough of a threat to Lorcan. Meaning that now anytime he was close you would feel this rush of warmth bubbling inside your chest.

His face was stone cold like it always was. No one could read his expression except for you. To you even his blank face had different emotions lingering somewhere and now you could tell that he was tired. Tired and annoyed. Meaning that something also hadn't gone the way it was supposed to.

"Talk to me", Lorcan threw his jacket over the armchair carelessly. Undoing a couple of buttons of his shirt as he walked closer to you. "I'm fine", you started but Lorcan knew this was a lie. He knew you better than you knew yourself most of the time and even if he failed to acknowledge that, his senses screamed at him that something was wrong. Not to mention that even if you closed off your side of the bond for better concentration his years of experience still managed to slip through.

"Maybe you can trick them, it won't work on me", the warrior stated firmly, letting his much bigger palms rest on your dainty shoulders. Fingers moving to work through the painful knots that had formed in your shoulders. You let your eyes fall shut. Welcoming the warmth that your lover's hands carried and the tender touch it never failed to provide you.

"Lorcan", you muttered, reaching for his palm. You couldn't let him do this. Because this would break through the wall you had built in need to survive today. Too many emotions were pusshed behind it. Letting them out would most definitely mean tears and crying was the last thing you wanted to do. Yet Lorcan didn't care. Even with your hands placed on his he still worked his fingers into your back. Slowly but surely feeling your muscles ease.

"I don't want to talk about it", admitting it felt weird but once you met your lover's eyes as you tilted your head back you knew that he understood. Lorcan gave you a light smile that in his true fashion was more of a grin, "You don't have to but when you do I will listen". Leaning in he pressed a loving kiss to your forehead before returning to his previous position.

You always loved how easy it was with him. How for the most part you didn't even need words. How much love he carried into little things that he did. He knew how you liked your tea, or how some foods mixing on your plate would weird you out. He knew how you needed silence sometimes just like Lorcan did. Being mated didn't mean that there were no boundaries. Yes, you two were one. But you had been two very independent and strong-minded individuals for decades. And as fun and fulfilling as it was to find your other half, your soulmate the desire to still be yourself and be able to find time to be with yourself still stayed a priority.

Your bottom lip quivered and Lorcan kneeled beside you instantly. He didn't say anything and in all honesty, he didn't need to. His hands rested on your thighs as he waited. If you wanted to be alone and dismissed him - Lorcan would go. Even if he wished to stay. But you didn't. Instead, you stretched your arms out, wrapping them around your lover's broad shoulders.

"Hold me...", you muttered out. Lorcan nodded. Pulling your body closer to his, arms looping around your back, putting pressure on your tensed back. To let your body know that he was there. To let your brain know that you weren't alone. Your fingers slipped up into Lorcan's thick black hair. Carefully undoing the tie holdings his hair away from his face. Just so you could run your fingers through it. Just so you can have that one more asset of him grounding you.

"I've got you, dove", he whispered into your hair. Placing delicate kisses onto your shoulder. One after the other. Each is followed by tender words of reassurance. "Just need...", you started, "I know and you got me. I'm right here with you", Lercan was quick to reassure you. Tugging onto your body a bit more so you would sit on his lap. It wasn't very lord-like to sit on the floor of your bedroom but Lorcan was far from caring as he wrapped you up in his arms, making sure you were comfortable in his embrace.

It had been so long till he had given instead of taken before he had met you. Lorcan didn't know the power of true loving until he realized that the spirits above have woven you just for him. Oh, how he tried to fight the odds of loving you. No way, there was no way that someone like you could ever love someone like him but here you were in his arms. Craving nothing more but to keep you safe and happy. Lorcan pressed yet another kiss against your temple letting his lips linger there a bit longer this time. Letting the calmness from within him flow through your body.

The fire was near to going out when you looked back up at your mate. "Hey, gorgeous", Lorcan said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your hair. You only smiled up at him, going back to nuzzling into his chest. "I suggest a bath and then I'll grab you a plate from downstairs", humming at your mate's words, holding onto his shoulders as he stood up with no struggle, still holding you up in his arms.

#catch me feeling guilty for not writing #not proof read because my head is on fire #lorcan x reader #lorcan salvaterre x reader #lorcan lochan salvatorre #lorcan salcaterre imagine #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass x reader #tog imagine #rowan whitethorn x reader #fenrys moonbeam x reader #gavriel x reader

[raven-cl]

Hey !! Kicking off the event for @bigbangharringrove where I got the honor of working on an art piece for a fic by the lovely and wonderful @jellyfishloveletterghosts

Dandelion Wishes

“Billy?” Loraine asks, voice raspy and tired, drawing his attention from staring out the window at the blurring scenery. He ignores her, tucking his hands in against his ribs tightening them like a hug, bottom lip jutting out. “Don’t be like that sunshine,” she reaches a thin hand out and brushes his cheek, sighing when he pulls away from the touch. 

Things have been good. His mom was tired but they are together just the two of them. Billy thought, hoped this was going to be how it was from now on, just the two of them on the road traveling from town to town taking in the sites. A trunk full of knickknacks and t-shirts from all of the little tourist destinations they have stopped at along the way. 

It doesn’t last though. The good time is coming to an end just like Billy knew it would. Just because he knows it is coming doesn't mean he is happy about it. She is leaving him, sending him to live with his father as she loses the battle against her ailing body. She is not just leaving him for a little while this time. She might not be coming back and Billy will be stuck with Neil.

“Sunshine, talk to me,” Loraine tries again, the wind coming in from the open windows bringing the scent of wildflowers as it whips their hair around their faces. Billy’s throat is tight, eyes wet, bottom lip wobbling as he shakes his head. The scenery out the window is still blurry even as the car slows down, pulling off on a patch of worn down grass, paths worn from tire treads soft and brown. “Baby I’m sorry. If I could stay with you I would.”

Billy gives a big sniff, nose dripping as a fat tear rolls down his cheek. Lorain puts the car in park, turning the key to cut the engine but leaving the radio playing softly. “Billy. I’m sorry.” She wipes the tear from his cheek and unbuckles his seat belt, pulling him into a hug as best she can with the stick shift between them. “I wish I could be with you always.”

Read the rest on ao3 !!

#billy hargrove #billy stranger things #steve harrington #steve stranger things #harringrove #stranger things #my art #harringrove bigbang

[amane-by-together]

ANG INIT SA PILIPINAS PUTANGINAAAA 🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

#loraine's note #loraine thoughts #loraine's rants

[lori-dump]

"you always talk about that guy" okay then, let's change the pace this time it's a girl

it's always the short people whose name starts with a (like amane) that are the sweetest person ever—okay for this story, i will call her aoi (bc she reminds me of aoi and her personality is like hanako's but a shy version; idk the fake world amane)

so aoi and i were classmates and we sit together during introduction to nursing and biochemistry classes. before physical classes, i thought aoi is tall because of her profile picture but then she was around five feet—and she's pretty, like really pretty

then i was thinking like "do i want to be friends with her or be with her" i mean don't get me wrong she's really pretty and not only that, she's really sweet and humble

i guess as days go by i make the effort to talk to her and be close to her because why not plus i'm already friends with her friends. and by that we're literally returning each other's physical affection, like hugging

i literally held hands with her while going out of the campus and carried each other (and kissed cheeks— and no, kissing the homies ain't gay) and it's normal for me to hang out with friends outside of my main circle

i help her a lot of things even though im a dumbass, but hey, simps do be smart. and she treated me with a lollipop

i love her though, but not to the point that i want to date her and stuffs, although she gives me the gay panicc and make me go *inhales gayly* but we don't talk about that 😳 and the fact that she combined her name to my last name i was like

(although yesterday i carried her in a bridal style and she said just got married)

LIKE CALM DOWN MISS GURL 😳 anyways that's all for today lmao

#loraine's thoughts #loraine's rants #loraine's notes

[jellyfishloveletterghosts]

It's finally time to start posting my fic for @bigbangharringrove.

Billy makes a dandelion wish during a road trip with his mother and meets Steve in the seeds. Too bad as soon as Billy gets him he loses him, chalking the dandelion boy up to a brief imaginary friend

California is hard on Billy, living under Neil’s roof, is hard on all of them. He hopes that his mom will come back even though he knows it’s a long shot. Events lead him to Hawkins right in time for Steve’s senior year.

Billy is drawn to pretty boy Steve Harrington; he just doesn't know why until he comes looking for Max and ends up covered in dandelion seeds.

I was lucky enough to be teamed up with the lovely and talented @raven-cl. ( 🔻an adorable preview of the full piece located here)

Dandelion Wishes - Chapter 1 - The Wish

“Billy?” Loraine asks, voice raspy and tired, drawing his attention from staring out the window at the blurring scenery. He ignores her, tucking his hands in against his ribs tightening them like a hug, bottom lip jutting out. “Don’t be like that sunshine,” she reaches a thin hand out and brushes his cheek, sighing when he pulls away from the touch. 

Things have been good. His mom was tired but they are together just the two of them. Billy thought, hoped this was going to be how it was from now on, just the two of them on the road traveling from town to town taking in the sites. A trunk full of knickknacks and t-shirts from all of the little tourist destinations they have stopped at along the way. 

It doesn’t last though. The good time is coming to an end just like Billy knew it would. Just because he knows it is coming doesn't mean he is happy about it. She is leaving him, sending him to live with his father as she loses the battle against her ailing body. She is not just leaving him for a little while this time. She might not be coming back and Billy will be stuck with Neil.

“Sunshine, talk to me,” Loraine tries again, the wind coming in from the open windows bringing the scent of wildflowers as it whips their hair around their faces. Billy’s throat is tight, eyes wet, bottom lip wobbling as he shakes his head. The scenery out the window is still blurry even as the car slows down, pulling off on a patch of worn down grass, paths worn from tire treads soft and brown. “Baby I’m sorry. If I could stay with you I would.”

Billy gives a big sniff, nose dripping as a fat tear rolls down his cheek. Lorain puts the car in park, turning the key to cut the engine but leaving the radio playing softly. “Billy. I’m sorry.” She wipes the tear from his cheek and unbuckles his seat belt, pulling him into a hug as best she can with the stick shift between them. “I wish I could be with you always.”

Read the Rest, chapter 2, and check the tags on Ao3

#harringrove #jellyghostfic #harringrove bigbang #fanfiction #st fic #Billy Hargrove x Steve Harrington #Dandelion Steve Harrington

[panco-1812]

The art I made for a contest!!

It won 1st place, and I'm so happy and grateful seeing people supporting me XD

The theme is nongkrong/being together so I thought I'd mash everyone in and add some random people afterwards

Featuring Loraine, Knight, LP, Mayreel, Kamael, Bari, Claude, Priscilla, Janitor Beth, Andras, Crosselle, Reynai (Pymon's vessel 'cause I ain't drawing that guy), Bartender Garam, Nari, Eunha, and FP

And a Lilith on the snack and Erina somewhere try finding her lmao

Close ups below the cut

And a bonus Lilith snack

#guardian tales fanart #guardian tales #ガーディアンテイルズ #가디언테일즈 #ガデテル #I was supossed to post this yesterday I forgor #You know what I ain't tagging these people one by one #Loraine guardian tales #knight guardian tales #LP guardian tales #little princess guardian tales #Yeah just them #Anyways my finger hurts this took 23 hours and is probably one of the biggest drawing I've made #and hey I got some summon controllers I think it's worth it

[somekindofpoet]

alphabet sfw A C H L S Z with Loraine☺️😘

I just wanted to add the sfw because you already have a alphabet for nsfw and i don’t want to make it confusing

Plus I love the idea of Lorraine being southern and being more affection

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Lorraine’s love language is words of affirmation and physical touch. She’ll tell you every time she feels something you’ve caused, from “hey the way you made my coffee this morning made me really happy,” to “you’re the only place I feel like myself.”

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) Back to the second love language. She is a cuddle monster. But only behind closed doors, she’s not a fan of PDA, because she’s shy.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) Again, touch love language. She hugs her friends, her family, CB, you.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) Helicopter babysitter for sure. Kids make her nervous and anxious because the thought of something bad happening to them stresses her OUT

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) She can be possessive, but in a quiet way. She’d protect you by getting you away from the situation, retreat is her go to. She likes when you step in front of her, blocking her with your body to protect her. The gesture alone makes her weak in the knees.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) She mumbles in her sleep a lot. It almost never makes sense, but she’ll have an entire nonsensical conversation with you in her dreams

#crush answers #sfw alpha #lorraine day x reader

[subsystems]

Fully fused with parts?

Let’s talk about full integration / final fusion where the parts are never erased and where being a whole-yet-multifaceted person is the goal of the fusion.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone talk about this. Then again, I don’t think that there are many systems on Tumblr who are at this point in therapy with this particular goal.

Final fusion is usually thought of as the merging of all parts into one self. Before fusion, there are metaphorical walls of dissociation between you and other parts of your mind. Whichever part of the mind is active is perceived as “Me” while the other parts are perceived as “Not Me”. After fusion, those metaphorical walls disappear, allowing all parts of the mind to become “Me”.

In the past, the westernized approach to self often led to therapists pressuring fully fused systems to stop valuing (or even acknowledging) that they had parts. It makes sense to me why those older systems would often compare fusion to death. In the present day, the plurality of self is being valued more. Especially with therapeutic practices like internal family systems, it’s more normalized to acknowledge that everyone has multiple parts to themselves.

When I fused with all of my parts for the first time, we still felt each other. We were one person with full access to each other, but also somehow still parts. We were connected parts and a single person at the same exact time. I thought that maybe I did it wrong, or maybe I wasn’t fully fused yet, but my therapist (who is from a culture where having parts is more normalized) told me that this is just another way that final fusion can be experienced.

So, full integration / final fusion doesn’t mean that parts have to go away. Maybe that’s how some people want to still do it. If someone wants to recover like that, please let them. But this is a type of final fusion that I have never heard talked about before. 

I often felt alone with this experience. I felt like no one would believe me if I brought this to Tumblr, because people can get so aggressive about fusion. Something that can be so beautiful is often shoved aside and attacked. I think it’s important to talk about this, though. Hearing about this can probably really help some people.

I want to share some statements from former DID patients who have fully fused, from this professional study. These statements helped me feel less alone with my experience.

Rebecca:

“Today I feel I am fully aware and present both as the collective of parts and as any individual part. That is, even when a part of me is present, there is a collective awareness of the experience.”

Irene:

“It gradually dawned on me that I could get some relief if I paid enough attention to the voices and their pain. I understood they needed to be heard. . . . My integration is about being in control, being aware, being able to understand myself. Whenever I’m anxious and I can’t understand why, I turn inside and I ask: What’s going on? I usually get an answer that either helps me deal better with an external problem or guides me as to how to calm myself down. . . . There is a clear advantage to my situation: I have better access to my subconscious than most people do. I call this ability Creative Disintegration.”

Loraine:

“I think the best way to describe my integration process is as a progressive one. First, there were brief moments of integration; later on I was integrated during some of the time but wasn’t on other occasions. This developed into a period in which I was integrated most of the time and then, into full integration with only momentary periods of disintegration. . . . It is a process of forward and backward movement on the dissociation continuum, but the general trend is towards a decrease in dissociation. . . . once you’re integrated, you don’t feel fragmented anymore, but in emergency situations there is a proclivity to utilize the mechanism for brief periods of time to help with coping.”

Some notes from the study:

“It is noteworthy that integration was not always described in terms of a renunciation of dissociative capabilities. Rebecca, Loraine, and even more so, Irene described occasional post-integrational awareness of the old psychological entities that once formed the personality alters. . . .  Whereas Sara and Tina talked about their lives as ‘one,’ others were clearly continuing to utilize some of the advantages of the dissociative process. It is probable, though, that rather than representing ‘imperfect’ integrations this variance portrays the naturally occurring distribution of dissociative phenomena in the population. It is, perhaps, not only an unreasonable expectation but also an undesirable outcome to have a useful defense mechanism, naturally occurring in society, completely abolished in this particular population.”

I think maybe it’s important to recognize that the boundary between multiplicity and fusion isn’t as clear cut as social media likes to make it out to be.

#actuallydid #actuallydissociative #actuallyintegrated #actuallytraumagenic #dissociative identity disorder #plurality #multiplicity #fusion #final fusion #integration #parts language #sunflower posts