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tiredfox64 · 6 months ago

Note

Hi Hi! I love you’re writings for Havik, it’s so hard to find any good Havik fics. Could you do Havik with an s/o who’s ex was abusive and they’re use to being bossed around and doing chores for their partner (like cooking, and cleaning for them and waiting for permission to do things)

You Have Freedom

Prior notes: Tbh using Havik is genius ngl. Make me wanna give him a kiss.

Pairing: Havik x Gn reader

Warnings ‼️: Mention of abusive/ toxic relationships, mention of violence, angst with happy ending

Relationship after relationship. It’s amazing that you are still standing. Though mentally you may have gained some issues since people in this world can’t act right.

Some partners never got over their ex. Some partners never took care of their own health. Some partners were just sick in the head and liked to mess with you.

It wasn’t you, you just had some bad luck and ran in the arms of the wrong people. You found comfort in the chaos that you were so used to. It wasn’t your choice it’s just how your brain started to be molded into needing. Your heart wanted something better. You deserved better than this. Not being forced to make a man who barely looks at you to cook him a meal or discourage you from wearing the clothes you want. But how does one break out from the cycle without getting hurt? Well, you might need some outside help.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Another crumby date with your sleazebag of a boyfriend. He couldn’t even give you a decent date night. Going to the bar and ignoring you to talk to his buddies while flirting with other people in front of you is not a date. But he will gaslight you and tell you so many things.

“You’re crazy, that never happened.” “You’re so insecure this is why I don’t take you out.” “I was buying you drinks the whole time is that not enough attention for you.”

You don’t even like drinking let alone constantly having Jägerbombs which he took for himself. He just wanted an excuse to get drunk that’s why he called this a “date”. You hate when he’s drunk. He gets more irrational and occasionally violent. He’s currently going off about how you are ruining the vibe by sulking. Now he says the clothes that he approved are too slutty while a priest would beg to differ that you are extremely modest. You’re on the verge of crying when suddenly you both hear footsteps coming your way in the dark night. Only a quarter of the moon is showing which makes it harder to see who is coming. Closer and closer these heavy footsteps come your way until what little natural light could be shined shows a man. A very scary looking man.

He’s hunched over yet he still looks taller than you. You could see his head is not aimed towards your direction but your boyfriend’s. Your boyfriend in his drunken state starts yelling and cussing him out when he has done no wrong. You tried to make him stop but he pushed you off of him, almost making you fall while he begin to yell derogatory terms at you. This seemed to displease the other man who came closer and closer until he was right at your boyfriend’s face. When he stood up straight you saw that he was much bigger than your boyfriend. He was tall and seemingly stronger. The moon light finally showed some of his face when you saw the lower half was mangled. You were frozen, unsure of what to do.

Your boyfriend booked it out of there, not even looking back at you. He was horrified and knew he fucked up. You were left alone with this scary looking man.

“Heh, pathetic. I’ve never seen such a weak man before.” He spoke in a gravely voice.

You just stared without saying a word. He began to walk off and you kept looking at him. He sensed you were still staring and turn back.

“What, too afraid to move? Did I scare you that much?” He might have been teasing you but you’re not sure.

“I’m afraid to walk home alone.”

Well that was a shock. You weren’t scared of him but you were scared of being alone. He won’t lie that seemed kinda cute. Your prick of a boyfriend did leave you behind so he felt like you deserved to at least get home safety. He walked back to you, staring down at you with that mangled face, before gesturing you to follow him. You did so without hesitation.

The ball started to roll without you knowing. This was the start of something good. The start of something with a Seidan who calls himself Havik.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Letting Havik into your home after he walked you back was the best decision you’ve made in a while. Though at first you were scared by his scars and his violent attire that didn’t change the fact he was calm with you. That calmness never went away.

Yes, he isn’t the most stable person around. You’ve seen him rip his own arm off to smack someone but that person he was smacking was your ex so it’s okay.

He never told you to stop crying. Even on the walk home you bursted out crying from that whole night. Havik didn’t immediately comfort you but when you were almost done crying he lightly wiped your tears away with his clawed hand. The metal that grazed your face was slightly confronted. And then he proceeded to lick the tears off his hands but let’s just overlook that.

You have felt safe with him around. He’s like a scary guard dog that you see as a protective softie. But in the back of your mind you worried that he would turn on you just like all your other exes. It’s starts with caring about you, than they slowly start to get aggravated and aggressive, then the love bombing starts, and a new vicious cycle starts.

This time is different, I promise.

You first tested him when your friends invited you out. A new club opened and you are still young you just had to go. They thought you were single now so they said you could dress however you wanted. But your concern was if Havik would be okay with it.

When you walked up to him he was sharpening the blade he usually had on his left arm. You swallowed hard as you hoped this wouldn’t turn nasty. You had the clothes you wanted to wear in your hands.

“Havik, my friends asked me if I could go out with them tonight. Am I allowed to go.” You closed your eyes, preparing yourself to be yelled at.

“You don’t have to ask me. It’s up to you. Do you want to go?” He responded so quickly you wondered if he took in what you said.

“Yes, I want to go. And I want to wear this,” you showed him the outfit, “Am I allowed to wear this?”

“Wear what you are comfortable with. If you want to go out with your chest out go ahead, you should be allowed to do that without anyone holding you back.” He grumbled not because of you but that the fact that if you did go out with your chest out you would be shamed.

This wasn’t the usual response for you. Usually it’s a no, why do you need to go out, are you gonna hook up with other guys, stupid incriminating things like that. It’s not that Havik doesn’t care, it’s more like he doesn’t care what you want to do just as long as you are sure you want to do so.

“Did you need me to cook you something before leaving? Does something need to be cleaned?” You were sounding all panicky as if you were being tricked. Like there was a catch and you had to do certain things before you were allowed to leave.

Havik stopped what he was doing and looked at you. For a second you thought you messed up by asking too many things and you ended up annoying him. He got up from where he was sitting and slowly made his way towards you. You flinched but didn’t run since that usually got you into more trouble before. Once he was right in front of you his hand went up and started petting you at the top of your head. You were calm again. This man in front of you is not like the others in your past.

“Were you looking for an excuse not to go out or are you worried something bad will happen when coming home?” He asked.

“No I just…was making sure,” you seemed almost out of it, “I’m gonna get ready now.”

You walked off and did as you said. You got ready and let your friends know that you would be going out. They were more than happy to hear that news. You checked with Havik one more time if it was alright but just one look at him told you it was alright. Actually wait! He has something to say. He came up to you quickly and you thought this was the moment. Nope, he just ripped his arm off and tried to hand it to you.

“Carry this with you if anyone decides to bother you.” He advised.

“I can’t carry a severed arm around! Are you crazy?!”

Uh duh, he is a little coo coo in the head.

“It’s fine. You can just smack them with it and they’ll be out. You should try it, it’s liberating.” He’s still trying to make you take his arm.

“Havik, no, stop. I’ll go to jail.”

“I will break you out. It is your right to beat someone up if they are bothering you.”

He’s not getting it but the gesture is nice. No Havik, they won’t take the knife either. Clubs don’t allow that.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

This was a big change for you and it was a good change. Your friends saw how happier you were now. They thought it was the single life. No, it was because you started to see that you were finally in a healthy spot in life. You are with a man who lets you know that you have a choice.

The night ended and your friends brought you back home. The house was quiet. When you went all the way up to your bedroom you saw Havik seemingly sleeping in your bed. And of course he was taking up the whole bed.

You started to undress and put on your sleep wear before you heard him speak in a sleepy voice.

“Did you enjoy yourself? Did anyone bother you?” He asked.

“I enjoyed myself and no, no one bothered me luckily.” The tone in your voice portrayed how happy you were which was a nice change.

“I can’t go hunting for someone?” He asked

“You can’t go hunting for someone, no.” You replied

Havik is glad no one bothered you but he did want an excuse to go after someone. Oh well, he’ll just pick at random again.

You slipped into bed with the little space you had on your side. As you were about to ask Havik if he was fine with cuddling you he was already on it. He dragged you in, nuzzling his face against yours as an act of affection. He would give you a kiss but…ya know. But you can still give him a kiss!

You kissed him all over, even the exposed flesh since you didn’t fear it anymore. You were happy to have him in your life now. A man that many would fear but you see as the sweetest guy you have ever dated. Knowing how long it took for you to get this lucky made you cry. It was hard to tell if it was from joy or the fact that it took time before you gained something good. He licked your tears away before he rested his head on top of yours. He squeezed you tight to him, almost giving off a sort of comfort that a weighted blanket would give.

“One day, I will give you a world where you are free to do whatever you want. No one will tell you what to do or what you need to do. You will be free. I’ll set everyone who has been controlled free. If I can’t free everyone, at least I can free you.”

He knew exactly what to say to you. He knows what you’ve been through. Never again. As long as he lives and thrives he won’t let that happen. He opposes control. There is only freedom and love with that freedom. Do what you want, wear what you want, cook what you want, eat what you want, do you boo boo. He will support you. And you will support him with whatever he wants to do.

There is no insecurities, denials, cheating, lies, and manipulation. There is only freedom and love between you and Havik.

Now rest, you’ve had a long eventful day. Your new beginning has started and you are excited to see what will come of this.

Though I advise you keep a towel near your bed. Havik drools in his sleep. Like a lot. Don’t be surprised when you wake up with wet hair, that was him. Sorry, I don’t make the mangled man’s rules.

After notes: Truly I hope no one ever goes through shit like this. It’s not even something like a you should have this experience once type of thing. I hope none of y’all experience what I’ve experienced in past relationships cause it is no joke. But I hope something like this can bring others comfort. Adiós!

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mk x reader #mk x you #mk fanfic #havik x you #havik x reader #mk havik #mortal kombat havik #havik #angst with a happy ending #angst with comfort

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catcze · 1 year ago

Text

⠀「 Grocery Shopping *ೃ༄ 」

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 FEAT : 」 Kazuha, Xiao, Thoma, Ayato, Alhaitham

「 ### : 」 gn reader, domestic fluff, established relationship, modern au

Reposted from my secondary blog !!

⠀「 KAZUHA*ೃ༄ 」

An absolute sweetheart who insists on pushing the cart or carrying the basket for you !!

Sticks pretty close to your grocery list, though if something interesting catches his eye he might pick it up and show it to you in hopes to convince you to get it.

His choices in food are of the healthier variety, I feel like. Mostly goes for organic choices, and is pretty well-learned in knowing which fruits, veggies and fish are the freshest and which are the closest to spoiling.

Tbh grocery shopping with Kazuha is so ?? Chill? Like, little to no stress, swear.

It’s just very easy and relaxing, walking through the aisles at a leisurely pace and plucking stuff off of shelves. You two talk about whatever you want as you walk, or sometimes you sing along to the music that plays from the speakers.

If something is too tall for either of you two to reach there’s no problem!! Kazuha can jump pretty damn high so he can reach the tip-top shelf easy peasy ♡

I feel like Kazuha also has a secret sweet tooth? Nothing too wild, but you’d catch him eyeing a pack of marshmallows every now and then, or staring a little too long at a tub of ice cream.

If you seamlessly pluck up whatever sweet he’s debating on getting and put it into the cart, he’ll literally light up and give you a sweet smooch on ur nose :((

⠀「 XIAO*ೃ༄ 」

To his credit !! He’s pretty damn decent as a grocery buddy.

Xiao’s a little introverted, typically choosing not to be around other people for very long periods of time, so him actually volunteering to come with you nearly moved you to tears.

He also pushes the cart from you and keeps track of your grocery list, crossing stuff out for you without you even having to tell him.

Xiao doesn’t talk much, which isn’t very out of the ordinary, but he does give some helpful suggestions when you’re indecisive about something. And he’s very pragmatic and straightforward when he helps you make your decisions, too, so it’s very time-efficient having him with u ♡

He barely asks for anything that isn’t on the list tbh? I dunno, I guess he just doesn’t feel the need to. Not to mention, he’s not particularly picky when it comes to his meals either, so he’s content to sit back and let you take the reins for restocking the fridge.

If his eyes sparkle a little when he sees you picking up ingredients for almond tofu, you choose not to tease him about it.

Definitely the one to try and bring all the grocery bags to the car in one go. And??? He somehow manages it to ??? You have no idea how, or how the guys somehow managed to hold your hand while also toting all those grocery bags but ?? Hey, you’re not complaining.

⠀「 THOMA*ೃ༄ 」

I shit you not Thoma is the best person to go shopping with. Hands down.

Thoma doesn’t go to the supermarket for his groceries, actually. Or at least not all of them. For some stuff that have to be imported or that are a bit harder to come by locally, he goes to the groceries and such.

However, when it comes too food shopping, his first stop are the farmers markets!

He’s already a regular at the local farmer’s market. Old grannies love to pinch his cheeks whenever they see him and they always coo over you two being an adorable couple.

Thoma leads you by the hand all around the farmer’s market the entire time you’re out, knowing which stall to go to for the freshest produce and the most decent price.

Knows how to bargain with the locals without being disrespectful! And he always manages to net really good discounts. If you ask him how he does it, he’ll wink and tell you that it’s just his charm. And you can’t fully disagree.

Definitely brings around his own eco-bags, too. He’s used to carrying all the groceries on his own, but if you offer to help he’ll thank you with a kiss and a smile.

At one point while you two separate to cover more ground, he passes by a stall ran by an old couple and their grandkid that sells flowers. He gets you a bouquet— nothing too big that’s hard to carry around, but something small and cute that you can press between your books and display.

When you reunite and he gives you the gift, he looks so goddamn precious holding out the flowers to you with his smile that u just wanna give him a kiss ♡

⠀「 AYATO*ೃ༄ 」

If Thoma is a god-send to be with when grocery shopping, Ayato is… nicely put, the exact opposite.

Listen I don’t blame the man. He’s rich enough that he’s never really had to do his own groceries before, so he’s a bit out of his element when he accompanies you to do it one day, but it’s still cute that he cleared a part of his busy schedule to help you out with this. He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit (and a pretty face, which helps.)

Motherfucker picks up some incredibly overpriced caviar, looks at the price tag ( $95 !!! For 30 grams what the fuck !!! ) nods to himself like he remembers you having that shit on your grocery list (you do not) and would have plunked it into your cart if you didn’t catch him in time.

He reasons that he’s tried this brand before and that it’s a very delicious-tasting one that you should try yourself, and his reasons are honestly pretty sweet, but it doesn’t change the fact that you don’t need the goddamn caviar. When you try to tell him that you don’t have the budget for it, he offers to get it for you which, again sweet and it makes you want to kiss him, but that’s not the point Ayato !!

Aside from his ignorance inexperience with how much a typical grocery run costs, there’s also the fact that this guy can’t cook for shit. As a result, if he’s not tossing rich person food into your cart, he’s placing shit that should under no circumstances be mixed together in the cart, claiming that he thinks the combination sounds nice to consume.

Ayato, dearest, I love you, but what the fuck is a Cheeto mango shiitake salad ??????

⠀「 ALHAITHAM*ೃ༄ 」

The mf who makes a detailed shopping list, complete with the specific brand of the item you’re looking for, the exact amount, the exact price for said amount plus quantity, and then several alternate brands if the one he was aiming for sells out. All of these are entirely researched before hand.

Well, he either does that, or he goes for he most outrageous expensive shit you’ve every seen.

And no half of the time he doesn’t even throw in the $60 per kilogram cheese because he likes it— he does it because he kinda enjoys pissing off a certain blond architect who invites himself over to sleep on your couch rather often.

It’s usually up to you to cross your arms and stare Alhaitham down, quietly judging him for a petty bitch while he crosses his own arms and stares back at you, one eyebrow raised in the way that makes you not sure if you want to punch him or kiss him.

Sometimes you win and with a sigh, your boyfriend quietly turns and goes off to acquire the next item on his incredibly detailed list, leaving you to put his purchase back as you victoriously fist pump to yourself.

Other times, he wins and you throw your arms up, rolling your eyes so hard as you try not to look at his smirk for fear of actually punching him (or, you know, kissing him and flagrantly having public displays of affection.)

Fine! You say to him with a huff that’s not actually angry. Keep your goddamn parmigiano reggiano.

You can never feel huffy about it for long, though— not when you find an extra tub of your favorite ice cream later as you put the groceries away.

#「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #Kaedehara Kazuha x reader #Kazuha x reader #Xiao x reader #Thoma x reader #Kamisato Ayato x reader #Ayato x reader #Alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #Kaedehara Kazuha #XIao #Thoma #Kamisato Ayato #Alhaitham #genshin impact #Cw GN reader

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ofallthingsnasty · 11 months ago

Note

Scenario where Arlongs human pet falls pregnant 👉👈

oh, anon, you're so evil... i love it 😔💕

references this post

tw.minors dni, forced pregnancy, noncon, dehumanization, mutilation mention, read the tags and read them twice

It's simultaneously the best and worst thing that can happen to you in this situation.

The best because it provides you with a breather of sorts - and the worst because well, you're pregnant with that man's child. You might think he’d be angry with you - far from that, actually. The moment he catches on, he’ll be nothing but thoroughly pleased with himself. It means that he has fully tainted you, claimed every inch of your body. Of course you'd get knocked up, he'll say, how could your little human womb ever withstand his seed. And if he hasn’t called you his little cow before - he’s definitely going to, now. As utterly humiliating it is to have him smile down at you with nothing but smug malice, it also elevates your status significantly. Suddenly there is a place to sleep for you, even regular meals. No more crawling around on all fours to amuse him or the crew, no more heavy feet on your back when he decides he’d rather use you as a footstool, no more hands all over your body, pinching, groping, slapping you - and, most importantly, no more impromptu violence, at least to the extent you experienced beforehand. That little thing in you is far too valuable to torture its vessel over and risk losing it. (And he’ll tell you all about it - that he’s only being so nice to you because you’re carrying his child.) Does it mean that you’re suddenly living an almost normal life despite the circumstances? Absolutely not. You’ll still need to make yourself useful to him - you’re still their little maid-servant and work from dusk to dawn, still have to serve Arlong to your best abilities - but the abuse shifts from physical to verbal. It’s still hard, but with a full belly, a decent place to sleep and without the looming threat of getting drowned just for fun, harsh words are way, way easier to withstand than before. He is obsessed with your bump - he definitely makes you wear clothing that emphasizes it the moment you even start to remotely show. It’s the deepest form of branding to him and he develops a sick pleasure in showing you off to your old friends and family in the village that you used to call your home. He parades you around like he just bred his pedigree dog, talks on and on about how you’ve finally fully submitted and saw the light, saw what’s best for you, how you know your place - all to the mortification of the people you used to know. He’ll make a whole show of getting you examined by your old town doctor, makes sure you’re at every check-up, each time a little fuller than before, showing off your progress. (And god have mercy on them if they try to help you get rid of it because it’s an open secret that this pregnancy is entirely unwanted. He’ll slit them open top to bottom on the town square and threaten to cut your feet off - if you dare to kill his offspring he’ll simply fuck another one in you, he’ll say, expression beyond good and evil. You’ll lose a finger for the attempt; if you try again, it’ll be a limb.)

Not to mention that he’s ravenous. It’s like a switch has been flipped in his brain - where he has forced himself on you in the past to get his dick wet, to get some use out of you, he suddenly can’t keep his hands to himself because of some new-found attraction. And the more you’re showing, the worse it gets. He’ll fuck you until the day you’re due, no matter how much you complain or how straining it is for you. It’s something he retains until after you’ve given birth - from that moment on, you’ve gone from the human toy to his little breeding stock and he’ll make sure to put you to good use. You’ll never be empty again if he can help it - he’s found a new ‘feature’ of yours to exploit and he’s going to keep at it until you’re a shell of your former self, until you collapse.

And you better hope the baby takes more after him than you - he’s not going to be kind to a little half fish-man who looks more like a human than him. That poor baby has a beyond bleak future in front of them. (Don’t even think of trying to escape with your child - he’ll make you regret it every single day of your remaining life, that’s for sure.)

#/arlong #/one piece #tw.forced pregnancy #tw.noncon #tw.violence #tw.dark content #arlong x reader #one piece x reader

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afrowrites · 6 months ago

Text

~What A Difference a Day Makes~

High noon, blistering heat scattered across the wastelands. Rolling waves of heat come off of the scared man. His weathered coat and hat absorbs the warmth of the sun. But a man like him doesn’t mind it. He clings to its warmth like he clings to radiation it’s familiar and after 200 years of life that’s the first thing that gets him going. As he traverses the weathered ground and picks from the weathered weeds he’s home and home is wherever he lays his hat. And today his hat lands right at your home.

Word Count: 3,102

Warnings: Hostages, Explosions.

Tags: The Ghoul/Black Plus-Sized Reader, Fluff, Domesticity, Banter, Slowburn(Kind of, not really)

Read on Ao3

The Ghoul enters an old dilapidated town,“Well, well, what do we have here?”

He trips and before he can figure out what it is that he tripped on he hears music, a song from the past. “What a difference a day makes”

The Ghoul pauses for a moment, letting the song wash over him. He hums softly to himself before his features fall back into the familiar sardonic smirk. “Well, ain't that just a day late and a dollar short.”

Suddenly the record stops then it rewinds, a haunting and demonic sound ringing through the speakers from that turntable. It explodes and sends him hurling towards some old rickety building.

He slowly gets back up, rubbing the back of his head. His expression changes from amusement to annoyance. “Well, ain't that just a real humdinger. What's a ghoul gotta do to get some peace and quiet around here?”

He suddenly feels the barrel of a gun at the back of his head "Now I don't know who you are and what your doing here but you have about three seconds before I blow your head to smithereens"

He turned slowly to see a beautiful brown figure, she had luscious full lips that were twisted in a scowl, a sharp stare that could cut glass, and a body that would make any man fall to his knees. Which is what our cowboy wants to do so bad but he also doesn’t want to get shot.

“Well, ain't you a proper little ray of sunshine, darlin'? If you want to know who I am, just call me The Ghoul. As for what I'm doing here, well, sometimes a fella jus' needs a little excitement, know what I mean?”

"And what pray tell would that be?" you looked at him, gun nudging his forehead.

“What do I want? How ‘bout a damn drink and a decent meal. Maybe even a little bit of friendly conversation that doesn't involve pointing a gun at my head?” The Ghoul's tone is cool and calm, unruffled by the threat of violence.

You take his bag from him and motion him to hand over his weapons, after all your modified grenade launcher is much scarier then some dinky pistols, after collecting the items you bind his hands with rope tightly and make you decent to your base of operations.

"Alright if food and good company is what you seek then I guess you can follow me, but don't think you can escape or I'll make sure you face my music."

All while you're talking he for some reason can’t stop staring at your lips, The Ghoul raises an eyebrow, his smirk turning into a wry smile.

“Well, looks like I'm just a damn dog on a leash now. But, if that's what it takes for a little vittles and banter, I guess I can't complain. Lead the way, darlin'. I'll try not to bite.” He shows you a grinning smile.

It takes half a day's journey to get to a dilapidated house on the outskirts of the shady sands. We walk in and it smells of mildew and dust.

"Welcome to my abode, rough skin." I tie him securely to a sturdy post of the house. He has enough room to sit at the dinner table without causing too much of a fuss.

The Ghoul glances around the dilapidated house, taking in the dusty surroundings. He doesn't hide his surprise, but masks his discomfort with sardonic wit.

“Well, ain't this just the picture of comfort and luxury. Mildewed walls, a chair that's seen better days, and the distinct smell of desperation. It's like a damn holiday.”

"I'm sorry this house is 250 years old and has survived two nukes safe to say I think I'm doing just fine, besides it's not like you know any better.”

The Ghoul laughs, a raspy, guttural sound.

“Two nukes, you say? Well, now we're talkin'. But hey, maybe I just prefer the finer things in life, like a decent roof over my head and a bed that doesn't squeak louder than a dying Radstag. But who am I to complain? After all, I'm sittin' at the table of a bonafide wasteland celebrity. And the company ain't half bad, either.”

"You're funny, what's your name?" I squint and I lean in closer to his face.

The Ghoul gives a crooked grin, revealing yellowed, pointed teeth. “They call me The Ghoul, sweetcheeks. But you can call me whatever you damn well please. Just don't expect me to be all sunshine and butterflies every damn minute.”

“You idiot I already knew that,” You chuckle and hit his arm playfully, “But you do look awfully familiar, I can't quite put my nose to it but I'm sure I'll figure it out soon enough"

The Ghoul's lip curls into a smirk as he leans in close. “Well, darlin' if you recognize this old mug of mine, then you must be one hell of a fan, considering how much more handsome I used to be.”

He takes a moment to relish in this compliment before his sarcasm returns. “Now, are we gonna talk about my good looks all night, or are ya gonna get a fella somethin' to eat?”

"pushy, much" I rummage through my cabinets to open my secret stash of food behind my fake out cabinets

"Alright I have some cram and mac'n cheese and drum roll please"

The Ghoul's eyes light up at the sight of the canned meals, He quickly returns to his usual sarcasm.

“Well, hot damn! Look at you, pullin’ out the good stuff. I reckon I’ll take a bowl of that there “mac and cheese” you mentioned. Gotta tell you, darlin’, nothing says fine dining like canned crap.”

"You didn't even let me tell you what was for dessert, hmph." In your pouty frustration, he finds it endearing which is awfully close as he remembers that one you have him tied up in your hide-away, and two he barely even knows who you are.

The Ghoul chuckles, enjoying this brief interaction with someone who isn't actively trying to kill him.

“Desert, you say? Well, now you have my full attention. Let's hear it, darlin'. What's the sweet treat you're hiding in that stash of yours?”

"Fancy lads snack cakes, they are actually good which worries me because that means they put all sorts of chemical crap in here. But beggars can't be choosers can they?"

The Ghoul's eyes light up again, and he almost seems enthusiastic.

“Well, now we're talkin'! Fancy lads snack cakes, huh? Sounds like a piece of pre-war heaven. Hell, I've tasted dog food that was better than some of the slop I've come across in the Wasteland. But, you're right, darlin'. When you're out here scavenging for scraps, you gotta take what you can get.”

"I'll heat this stuff up then." You turn away blushing,and you honestly don’t know why?

The Ghoul gives you a sly smile, noticing your flushed cheeks, and nervous nature.

“Well, ain't that a sight for sore eyes. Here I am, tied to a chair and at your mercy, and you're the one gettin' all flustered. Careful now, darlin'. If you keep givin' me these heated stares, a fella might start getting some ideas.”

"Now what kind of girl do you take me for?" You raise my brow and smirk.

The Ghoul's eyes twinkle mischievously as he looks you up and down.

“Well, darlin', let's see. You're a proper little badass, ain't ya? Tying me up, feedin’ me grub, givin’ me the eye. I reckon you're the kind of girl who knows how to hold her own in this here Wasteland, and if provoked, could knock a fella flat on his ass with just the force of your glare. Hell, I'd say you're the kind of girl who could kick my ass while lookin’ damn fine doin’ it.”

"That's real cute but flattery will not get you untied." I get closer to whisper in his ear "Mister~"

The Ghoul chuckles, the hairs that would be on the back of his neck rising at your touch. “Well, ain't you a sly one? Look darlin', I'll gladly sing your praises from here to the Grand Canyon. But you're right, there ain't a compliment in the world that could charm these ropes off me. And don't get me wrong, I ain't complainin'. A pretty lady, good food, and I'm tied down at her mercy? Sounds like a hell of a good time to me.”

"Your just in luck because the food is ready." You take the macaroni and cram off the fire and plate it on the mis-matched plates and cutlery.

The Ghoul's eyes light up as the food hits the table. Well, isn't this a sight for sore eyes? You ain't pullin' any punches, darlin'. Canned mac and cheese and cram. It's like a damn feast for a Wasteland king. I appreciate the effort, darlin'. You've got me hooked. He grins, his stomach rumbling in anticipation.

"You really better be glad I'm wasting my food on you, if I didn't have other food drops and suppliers you'd be starving."

The Ghoul gives a hearty chuckle, his sharp teeth glinting in the light. “Oh, darling, I'm aware. Believe me, I don't take your generosity lightly. But hey, I'd say I make up for it with my sparkling personality. He winks playfully. If you wanted to leave me hungry, you would have done so already. So, why feed me? You gotta be expectin' somethin' in return.”

"Honestly I don't know why I'm helping you, you just feel familiar to me and I don't know why. It's like in my mind I know who you are. But I don't know I might just be talking out of my ass."

The Ghoul's grin falters for a moment, his thoughts racing. He can see the confusion and memory in your eyes. “Ah, familiar, eh? Well, I won't lie, darlin'. I've been around these parts for a damn long time and have met more than my share of fascinating folks. It could be I've got a face that sticks in the mind. But, who knows? Maybe it's just a coincidence. The Wasteland is a mighty big place.”

You abruptly pause and think for a moment, “Would you want to watch a movie with me?"

The Ghoul's eyebrow arches in surprise and amazement. “Now, that's a damn fine suggestion. It ain't often a ghoul gets an invitation to watch the latest Hollywood flick. But, if you're askin', I'd love to join you. As long as it's a proper action movie, none of that romantic crap. I wanna see things blow up and people kick ass, you know what I mean?”

You laugh at his response, gritty and rough, “"Oh yeah you can watch my favorites with me. I only really have a cowboy cooper so I hope you don't mind." You give him a sheepish smile.

The Ghoul's expression grows intrigued. “Cowboy Cooper, eh? Sounds like the kind of movie fit for a true Wasteland outlaw. As long as it's got that proper Wild West charm, I'm in. You better believe I'm ready to sit back and enjoy the show. Let the explosions and bullets fly, darlin'. Hell, it might even make me forget about my current predicament.”

"You're such an old man." You chuckle to myself as I turn on the movie.

The Ghoul lets out a low chuckle, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well now, aren't you the little firecracker? I ain't called old man in years. But hey, if it gets me a front row seat to this flick, I'll wear that label proudly. Now, let's get this show goin'. Nothing like a proper Western to get a ghoul's blood pumpin'”

You watch the movie together on your dilapidated couch on a tv that somehow works. "Now I know who you remind me of."

The Ghoul nods, his eyes flicking between the movie and you. He can tell you’ve got something on your mind. “Go on, darlin’. I could use a good mystery unraveled. Who do I remind you of?”

You make this somewhat off connection in your mind. "Cowboy Cooper, your voices are somewhat similar and you both have the same teeth which is shocking considering you're a ghoul."

The Ghoul's expression is unreadable for a moment as he processes your statement. Then, a slow, sardonic smile spreads across his face.

“Well, now, isn't that something. Cowboy Cooper, huh? Guess it makes sense, given this ole’ rugged good looks. I'll take that as a compliment, darlin’. As for the teeth…well, I guess you could say life's been rough on them. But it just gives me that extra charm, don't you think?”

"I guess." you chuckle to yourself, as I start to rest your head on the ghouls shoulder.

The Ghoul's smirk softens slightly as he feels you rest your head on his shoulder. He can't help but let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“Well, ain't you somethin'? Here I am, all tied up and helpless, but somehow I end up playin’ the role of your personal pillow.”

You nuzzle into him, “Well you are comfier than you look.” You smile to yourself, this is honestly the first time you’ve felt anyones touch in a long time.

The Ghoul's smirk widens into a wolfish grin. He leans against the ropes, allowing you to use him as your makeshift pillow. “Well, darlin', if I knew I’d end up as the Wasteland’s next hottest pillow, I would have tied myself up years ago. But I gotta admit, you’re onto something. Maybe it’s these rugged good looks that make it so comfy. So, is this my new job? Just stayin’ put so you can rest your pretty little head on my shoulder?”

"Whatever you say cowboy," you yawn and stretch off of him. "Hey I don't know if you ghouls need to sleep but I will be doing that upstairs. i'll even tie you to my bed so I can sleep easier"

The Ghoul can’t help but chuckle at your bold invitation. He gives you a sly look, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“Well now, ain't you the forward one? I haven't slept in years, so you don't gotta worry about me gettin’ into mischief while you catch your rest. As for the whole "tying me up to your bed" shenanigans, well, I won't say I'm opposed to the idea.”

You chuckle and give him a sleepy smile. "I bet you aren't, come on cowboy" As you lead him upstairs.

With a low chuckle, the Ghoul follows you up the stairs, his steps slightly hindered by the ropes. Despite his predicament, he can’t help but feel a bit excited at the prospect of spending the night in your bed. “Well, darlin', if you're offerin', who am I to refuse? Just don’t hog all the covers, alright?”

"Ah ah take off your shoes" You grin with your hand wide open motioning him to give them to you.

The Ghoul pauses for a moment, confusion flickering across his face. “My shoes? Look, darlin’, I ain’t one to question a lady, but this seems like a bit much. If I take my shoes off, then the next thing I know, you’re gonna be demanding I sleep naked and give up my guns.”

"That's not a bad idea, hand em over cowpoke" You knew he had extra weapons you were honestly confused as to why he hadn’t tried anything.

The Ghoul raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, but can’t help but chuckle, clearly amused.

“Oh now, darlin’. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a wild one, sure, but takin’ off my shoes and sleeping naked? You keep making me an offer like that and I’m gonna start thinking you’ve got plans for me beyond just restin’. Maybe I oughta keep my weapons within reach, just in case.”

"Relax if you think I'm thinking about doing anything of that nature you're surely mistaken" this next part you say under your breath "I've never even done that."

The Ghoul quirks an eyebrow at your muttered words. “Now wait now, hold up. That sounded like a mighty important confession you just let slip there. Are you tellin' me that you’ve never done any of that?” His eyes rake over you for a moment as a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. “Seems like some fellas in this world are missing out on a good time.”

"Oh be quiet" you throw a pillow at his face and you take his weapon and throw it at the far side of the room. "And if you don't mind I'll be sleeping with my gun, is that ok?”

The Ghoul catches the pillow with a smirk, setting it aside. He watches as you move his weapons away, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Oh trust me, darlin’, I’m perfectly fine with a lady keepin’ her weapon close. In fact, I’d say it’s a mighty smart move, even when you’re sharin’ a bed with a fella like me. Can’t be too careful in this Wasteland.”

"Hmmm you're too eager and I don't like that, but I'll keep you around. I need a guard dog after all" You smile cheekily at him.

The Ghoul's smirk turns into a wolfish grin, revealing a hint of sharp teeth in the dim light. Your wink doesn’t go unnoticed, and he can’t help but appreciate your boldness. “Oh darlin’, you’re playin’ a dangerous game. Keep givin’ me those looks and making comments like that, and you just might find yourself tangled up in somethin’ more than just bedsheets.”

You roll my eyes "goodnight Cowboy"

The Ghoul watches you roll your eyes, a smirk plastered across his face. He can’t help but laugh as you bid him goodnight, his deep chuckle filling the air.

“Alright there, darlin’. Goodnight~” With a wink, he settles down on the bed, his gaze never leaving you.

#fallout #the ghoul #cooper howard #fallout tv series #he's kinda #black reader #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #plus size reader #The ghoul x black reader #fluff #domestic fluff #Like what if he relaxed #that would be nice

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fictionalmenxyn · 1 year ago

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What it’s like to date, ¡Alejandro!

When I tell you this man is thee man for romance he is. You can’t tell me otherwise.

His cooking is thee best, so expect dinner dates at home and he’ll set up the table, have candles lit and some of your favourite beverage ready awaiting for you to drink.

I’d say his love language is physical touch. He can’t go a day without giving you at least a kiss or a hug. So when he is away he really misses you but you both make up for that.

He loves when you both are in the kitchen dancing and singing to music while making a meal together. It just brings a smile to his face every time.

He loves morning cuddles especially if he had just came back from a mission. He loves the smell of your freshly washed hair and the familiar smell of both the smell of your perfume and the smell of the fresh sheet on the bed. It just brings him comfort.

He loves seeing and teaching you speak Spanish and talking to his family in Spanish. He’s enjoys that your willing to learn about him and his family so you would do anything to make him and his family happy.

You like to wake up before him and make breakfast so by the time he comes into the kitchen you’ve either made it all or you are almost done.

This made is in heaven when he sees you in his clothes. Nicely outlines you and makes you look even hotter than you already are. Sometimes if it’s old and he doesn’t wear it as often he’d probably let you have it.

If you do or don’t know it he will still do it and that’s let you wear his cowboy hat. If you know what it means I bet you’d wear it with pride an all. But obviously won’t wear it in front of his parents.

His parents love you! Like I mean when it comes to your birthday, except the most outstanding present ever. And especially if you go get married. I feel like they’d be decently wealthy, but very humbled if you get me. I bet his mother would even teach you every single homemade recipe she can think of. And she’d even tell you stories of little Alejandro and show photos. Classic mum. But overall he is very close to his family and very grateful you have found a special bond with them.

In the mornings, if you choose to stay in bed he loves seeing you peacefully sleeping or smiling at him. He pulls you closer and kisses your forehead and whispers a good morning to you and you stay in the comfortable silence for a bit before getting ready for the day.

In the night he likes to cuddle and talk about anything. Either it’s how both of your days went or what your plans are tomorrow. He likes this time to talk as it’s peaceful and easy to talk.

Overall, he is a 10/10 and so is the relation ship. You are able to trust him and love him.

Hope you enjoyed!

Make sure to request/message me if you want

Have a good day/night!🫶

#task force 141 #cod x reader #task force 141 x y/n #cod mw2 #cod headcanons #cod modern warfare #y/n mw2 #alejandro call of duty #alejandro x reader #alejandro mw2 #alejandro cod #alejandro x y/n #alejandro x you

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 7 months ago

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Hi! I just want to say I really love your work especially Yves bro- I don’t careee bro is my number one ☝️

I can’t stop re reading every work about him it’s getting insane I love it

But- like you can Ignore this completely if you don’t take requests anymore

I was thinking about you said that’s Yves knows the readers body down to the T- and also how he can pick up on everything well..

How would he be when him and reader first meet and reader is getting comfortable with platonic affection with Yves, but readers body constantly cracks and make popping noise every time they bend any joints- like their knees, elbow and back cracking every single time. It doesn’t hurt the reader bros body is just stiff very stiffy

I can just imagine Yves cringing a small bit every time he hears the pop or crack, and trying to hold himself back from being your own chiropractor because you two just started to talk. Bro probably has an arsenal of herbs and (drugs) that will help loosen your body tbh

ANYWAYS- I love Yves please keep posing about him 🫶

Who's to say he wouldn't spike your meals with the much needed supplements and drugs? Even before your official meeting with him? Yves is as quiet as a mouse when sneaking around and he is unbelievably proficient in trespassing private spaces undetected.

It could even be years before you two officially met, perhaps on the day where you locked eyes with him, your joints would be well-lubricated and silent.

But then, he could have just let the clacks fester as a part of some grand plan of his to win you over.

Yves has a knack for making people cower before his presence, yet they desperately try to get his approval. Perhaps, on day one, he would have commented on the stiffness and sounds. Expressing his concern over that as a decent person, wanting to know the parameters around it so he could do everything in his power to help.

You would be embarrassed, yes. But upon hearing that he has a strong background in orthopedics, you might think his input is valuable. Or maybe not, you could be offended over it and begin clamming up around him.

It doesn't matter, the end is always the same: somehow you would consent to him feeling you up as your personal chiropractor, it could be sooner or later in the relationship. Regardless of whether you're as pliant as a piece of clay, or as stubborn as a mule, Yves will successfully feed you whatever drugs he thinks is good for you.

And you will be grateful, because you would have noticed a dramatic improvement compared to the state before you met him. You can move, you can bend and you can stretch without feeling like a wooden plank. This will subconsciously associate Yves with this healer figure, just like how he wants you to see him.

You wouldn't realize it if no one is actively pointing it out, but you will automatically seek him out if anything bothers you in your life.

Every step he takes is a deliberate one with a role to play. Never brush the smallest touch or the most inconsequential of words as "just something that he does" or underestimate Yves simply because he appears human.

Everything has a purpose. You are lucky that you are the love of his life, his light and his reason for his clandestine data vault.

'Hell' would be a gross understatement when it comes to describing your life if you were Yves's enemy.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere male #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #male yandere oc x reader

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bloody-bee-tea · 8 months ago

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IntiMarch 2024 Day 19 - Trust me enough

The prompt for this was "I'm here for you"

Suguru is an insanely private person, Satoru had enough time by now to realise that. Sure, Suguru talks about what he likes and dislikes and he shares funny little thoughts with Satoru, but he never ever talks about his childhood, his parents or any other relatives.

Satoru knows that Suguru is living alone, even though he’s never been to his place, and that’s all, really.

It’s not that he minds it, much. Suguru is his best friend, despite the obvious holes in his lives and even though he never talks about any of that Satoru doesn’t feel as if he’s being kept out of the loop or if Suguru is keeping secrets from him.

Suguru is still the person Satoru trusts most. It just seems like maybe Satoru isn’t the one Suguru trusts the most because he very adamantly does not want to talk about why he looks like shit.

“You sleeping okay?” Satoru asks well into their evening, when Suguru is half asleep on the couch, listing more and more towards Satoru, his eyebags so deep that for a moment Satoru thought it was make-up.

“Sure,” Suguru’s non-answer is to that and Satoru rolls his eyes.

“Bullshit,” he whispers, which makes Suguru tense for a moment, before Satoru simply pulls him closer towards himself. “Sleep here if you can’t at home,” he decides and Suguru doesn’t even seem to have the energy to protest that, because he goes heavy against Satoru and then that’s that.

He doesn’t even wake when Satoru drags him over to his bed and that, too, is worrying.

It’s not often that Suguru stays over, but it’s by far not the first time they share a bed, so Satoru has no qualms about sliding in right behind him, already thinking about what he could make Suguru for breakfast tomorrow.

These days he’s always buying food for two, because he wants to be prepared for when Suguru drops by without a notice and looking as if he’s ready to keel over at any time.

Satoru is not much of a cook, but during that time period where Suguru lost a few pounds for no reason whatsoever he learned how to cook decently well. It’s still not one of his favourite things to do but he knows enough by now to make balanced meals that won’t kill the both of them in a week or so.

Suguru had regained his weight with Satoru’s constant pestering and so mostly Satoru doesn’t even feel bad about it.

Except for the fact that he needs to pester Suguru in the first place because he’s not taking care of himself. Or he’s trying too hard to take care of himself.

No matter what, Satoru knows he’ll have to bring it up and rather soon, because seeing Suguru waste away in front of him like that is not something he enjoys doing.

But that is a conversation for the next morning.

~*~*~

When Satoru wakes up, Suguru is already awake. He’s still in bed though, and he does seem marginally more rested than the night before so Satoru counts it as a win.

“Had trouble sleeping?” Satoru asks, lazily stretching and daring to throw a glance at the clock.

It’s fucking early and Satoru falls back into bed with a groan.

“No, not when I’m here,” Suguru gives back and it has Satoru perking up, because that is more than he usually gets out of Suguru.

“Listen, Suguru,” he starts and watches how Suguru almost immediately clams down on him.

“Don’t, Satoru,” he warningly says and Satoru shakes his head, his hands reaching out to tangle in Suguru’s shirt.

“No, you will listen,” he orders him and he’s not afraid to stare him down.

Other people might be scared by that gaze but not Satoru, never has been and never will be. Suguru really should know better than that.

Suguru stays stubbornly quiet, but that’s fine since it’s what Satoru expected to happen in the first place and it’s not as if he needs Suguru to talk anyway.

“I just wanted to say, that no matter what, I am here for you. If you ever feel like talking about what the hell is going on with you, then I’m here. You can tell me anything, though I hope you already know that. I just—” Satoru bites his lower lip as he reaches out to push Suguru’s bang away from his face. “I just want you to be okay. And if I can help in any way, then you’ll let me know, alright.”

Suguru continues to stay quiet, which is fine and all, so Satoru gives him a small smile.

“That’s all. Now, any special orders for breakfast?” he then asks as he untangles himself from the blanket and from Suguru and gets out of bed.

“Put some fruit in whatever the hell you’re making, you always eat too much sugar,” Suguru says as if Satoru isn’t the one who has been in charge of keeping both of them healthy lately, but he still nods.

“Sure thing, boss.”

“And Satoru?” Suguru calls out for him, just as he’s about to leave the room.

“Mh?” he asks and turns back, surprised to see the serious look on Suguru’s face.

“Thank you. I—can’t, yet, or maybe ever, but—thanks.”

“Always, Suguru, I promise,” Satoru replies, his heart fluttering in his chest, because this is the very first time that Suguru even so much as hinted at the fact that something might not be okay.

It’s a start and Satoru will gladly take it.

~*~*~

Suguru’s health continues to decline. His face is gaunt, his eyes are tired, the bags are permanent and his appetite is almost non-existent.

Things have never been perfectly fine for Suguru, Satoru knows that because he was already working a job by the time they met and it was more than clear the he kind of needed that one to stay alive but this is reaching new heights.

New worrying heights, Satoru despairingly thinks as he watches Suguru push the food on his table around instead of eating it.

“Suguru,” he carefully starts and Suguru is so out of it that he only gets a weak grunt in reply. “How many jobs are you working?” Satoru wants to know because he suspects it’s no longer just one.

“Two, sometimes three,” Suguru lifelessly replies and Satoru is honestly just waiting for the moment his head drops forward, right into their dinner, like in the movies.

There are a lot of things Satoru wants to ask, wants to know, but he definitely knows that if he pushes too hard or goes on and on with his questions, Suguru will clam up again and he doesn’t want them to fight.

Suguru is so much more prone to fights lately, his temper short and bad and Satoru blames the sleep deprivation and the malnourishment.

So Satoru doesn’t say anything more, and instead puts a few vegetables on Suguru’s plate. He loves those, usually, and Satoru hopes that maybe like this he’ll at least get a little bit of food into him.

It doesn’t work and even though Satoru’s heart sinks, he lets it go.

At least for now.

~*~*~

Suguru’s hands are shaking as he picks up his glass of water and Satoru notices it with worry. Suguru is running himself ragged with whatever the hell he’s doing and Satoru can hardly stand to see it.

“Suguru, are you okay?” he asks, out of the blue and in the middle of a rather dramatic monologue in the movie they are watching but he couldn’t care less.

He only cares about Suguru.

Suguru gives him a warning glance but when Satoru doesn’t back down he lets out a deep sigh.

“I’m staying safe,” he says as if that’s any kind of answer to the question Satoru just asked and so Satoru leans forward, closer into Suguru’s space.

“Okay, but. Are you okay?” he asks again and just like that Suguru bursts into tears.

It’s so surprising that it takes Satoru a few seconds to react but then he’s quick to pull Suguru in his arms.

He shakes and he sobs and he cries for a very long time, and it feels as if Satoru’s heart is being torn into two.

Suguru should never be like this, should never be as desperate and defeated as he is now and Satoru wishes he would just talk to him so that maybe Satoru can fix it.

When Suguru’s sobs die down, Satoru nuzzles the top of his head and asks: “What do you need?”

“To not work three jobs,” Suguru bitterly mutters, his voice still heavy with tears and Satoru nods.

“Okay. Do you need to do that for rent?”

“Among other things,” Suguru cryptically gives back and Satoru sighs.

“If you were to live here, would that make things better?” he asks and curses under his breath when that makes Suguru pull away.

“Satoru,” he warningly says, but his face is still read and there are tear tracks on his face, so there is no way in hell that Satoru is going to back down right now.

“Answer me.”

“I—I could maybe drop one job,” Suguru finally admits, “but I can’t do that, Satoru, you don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me. Why can’t you?”

He’s not asking for the reason Suguru is working three jobs, or what ‘other things’ even entail; all he wants to know is why Suguru cannot move in with him and not bother with rent anymore.

“What if you get sick of me or we fight or something? I’d have nothing.”

It’s a valid concern, even though it makes Satoru wonder what Suguru had to go through so far to have to worry about something like that, but it’s also an easy fix.

“We’ll write you in the lease. That way it’ll be your apartment, too, and you have a legal right to be here, even if I should want kick you out. How’s that?”

“And I pay half the rent?”

“No rent,” Satoru shakes his head. “Absolutely not. It’s not as if—you said one job. Living here with me would only allow you to quit one job.”

“Yeah,” Suguru says, already closed off again and Satoru knows that he’s not getting any kind of explanation as to why he needs the jobs in the first place.

“What if—what if we do the same thing with my bank account?” he asks and Suguru stares at him with huge eyes.

“Huh?”

“I mean—you know I have more money than I reasonably know what to do with thanks to my family, so—why not use that? We can make it a shared bank account and you can take as much or as little as you need. We’d pay the rent from that account too, so it’s almost as if you’re paying your share and then you don’t have to worry about money again.”

“Fucking rich people,” Suguru mutters under his breath but some of the desperation has left his eyes and that’s all that matters to Satoru right now.

“I’d still want to work one job and save that money up in case—”

Things with us go wrong, Suguru doesn’t say but Satoru hears it loud and clear.

“Suguru, I don’t want you to stop working at all, not if you enjoy doing it. I just want you to stop working three jobs at once and killing yourself over it.”

Suguru works his jaw, clearly thinking things over and Satoru—for once in his life—is content to wait him out.

It’s important that he doesn’t push him too far too soon, because he definitely doesn’t want Suguru to shut down on him again.

“I’d—have to think about it,” Suguru finally says and Satoru lets out a breath of relief.

That’s better than he dared to hope for, if he’s being honest.

“That’s fine,” he immediately agrees and tries to pull Suguru into another hug again, but he stops him with a hand on his chest.

“Satoru, I might not ever tell you,” he warns him, without elaborating but Satoru understands anyway.

“That’s fine, Suguru,” he gives back and tugs on Suguru’s arm until he gets the hint and crashes into Satoru’s chest. “You either tell me all of it, or just some or none at all and it’s all fine. If you don’t want to talk about it, then that’s fine, just know that I’m here. If that changes, I’m here.”

“It—it’s not just me, Satoru. I can’t—it’s not just me. If I fuck up, it’s not just me that’s going to suffer.”

A thousand questions are at the tip of Satoru’s tongue at hearing that but he swallows them all down. He already pushed enough for today, Suguru’s admission is proof enough of that.

“Okay. Think about it. The offer stands and it has no expiration date.”

It’s all Satoru can do, at the moment, besides being there for Suguru.

Suguru opened up more to him than ever before and for now it has to be enough.

~*~*~

Satoru wakes up to incessant knocking at his door. He groans as he rolls around to check the time and then he curses when he realises it’s the middle of the night. Satoru has half a mind ignoring whoever it is that’s disturbing his sleep right now but the knocking doesn’t slow down and there’s no way Satoru can get any more sleep like this.

So he rolls out of bed, disgruntled and mad, and he hopes both those emotions show on his face as he yanks open the door.

Only to freeze completely in surprise when he spots Suguru at the other side, with a little girl in his arms and one standing behind him.

Suguru looks scared and tired and weary and both girls are silently crying.

“I’m sorry,” Suguru says when Satoru can’t find his voice fast enough and it finally jolts Satoru into action.

“Come in, come in,” he steps to the side, motions for them to get in, and only barely catches the girl still standing when she falls forward as her support moves away.

“Fuck, Nanako,” Suguru mutters, but Satoru hoists her up in his arms and the girl is asleep before her head hits his shoulder.

“I’ve got her. Let’s put them down in my bed. Do they need something?” he asks, gently pushing Suguru towards his bedroom.

“No, they just—sleep would be good.”

Not just for the girls, Satoru suspects, and so he nods.

“Alright, off we go then.”

They get the girls situated quickly and silently and when Suguru wants to leave the room with Satoru, Satoru stops him with a hand to his chest.

“You, too, Suguru,” he says with a nod towards the bed.

“I need to explain,” Suguru protests and Satoru narrows his eyes at him.

“Is anything you want to explain to me time sensitive? Do you have to be somewhere tomorrow, is something going to happen if you don’t do something on time?” he asks and waits until Suguru shakes his head. “Then off to bed you go,” he says and pushes Suguru back towards the bed. “I’ll be here and we can talk after you got some sleep.”

“Fine, fine,” Suguru mutters and then pulls Satoru into a hug. “Thank you.”

It’s not as if Satoru has done a whole lot yet, but he still hugs Suguru back before he shoves him towards the bed again.

Satoru is burning with questions but Suguru seems ready to keel over at any moment and an explanation can wait until the next day.

~*~*~

Satoru wakes up to the smell of coffee. His back hurts something fierce from sleeping on the couch but he drags himself up anyway because the coffee smells exactly like he usually takes it and he’s not surprised to find Suguru in the kitchen, most of the breakfast already done.

“Good morning,” Satoru says, making a beeline to his coffee and Suguru briefly turns away from the stove to give him a small smile.

“Morning.”

Suguru quickly finishes the last two pancakes before he drops everything on the table and sits down opposite of Satoru.

“Are you awake, like, truly?” Suguru asks and Satoru would be offended if it wasn’t such a valid question.

Suguru has had whole conversations with him he doesn’t remember a word of because he was still half asleep at the time.

“I am truly awake,” Satoru promises him and Suguru sighs.

“Okay, explanations then,” he whispers and Satoru’s hand shoots out, covering Suguru’s with his.

“If you want to. You are under no obligation to tell me anything,” he reminds him because it’s important that Suguru knows that.

Sure, Satoru can’t deny that he has a million questions but if Suguru doesn’t want to answer a single one, then Satoru would rather take a no than make Suguru do something he doesn’t want to do.

“I know,” Suguru quietly admits. “I know that, Satoru. I want to. It’s long overdue anyway, I shouldn’t ever have kept any of this a secret.”

Maybe, Satoru wants to agree, but it’s not his place to say and Suguru will have had his reasons, so he bites his tongue and stays quiet.

“The girls were fostered in the same family that I was,” Suguru starts. “Nanako and Mimiko. I—they are eight now. My foster parents got them shortly before I moved out and I talked to the CPS about it but they didn’t listen. My foster parents—things weren’t nice there,” Suguru admits and doesn’t quite dare to meet Satoru’s eyes. “I didn’t want the girls growing up there but no one was listening to me.”

“So you kept in touch,” Satoru guesses, focusing on that instead of anything else Suguru just said. The girls didn’t seem like they were afraid of a stranger last night. They seemed to trust Suguru.

“I tried to keep visiting,” Suguru agrees with a sigh. “My foster parents quickly caught on and demanded money in exchange.”

“You had to pay to see them?” Satoru asks for clarification and lets out a long breath when Suguru nods.

That certainly explains the three jobs he was working.

“I wasn’t ever allowed to see them at home, though, they always dropped them off somewhere. Nanako and Mimiko are bright girls, lively and wonderful, but they got quieter and quieter the more time passed. They wouldn’t talk to me anymore, wouldn’t mention what was going on at home at all. It worried me.”

“And I’d guess rightfully so.”

“Yeah. I went there, yesterday, without prior announcement. I still know where they keep the keys, so I got in. Satoru, you don’t know—” Suguru breaks off with a sob and Satoru moves around the table to hug him.

“They kept them in a cage,” Suguru hisses out between his tears and Satoru goes cold all over.

“What?”

“There was this huge fucking cage in the living-room, like a kennel. They kept them like dogs!”

“Fucking hell,” Satoru whispers because what else is there to say, really.

“I tried to get them out but my foster parents came home before I found the key. They attacked me with a knife for it.”

“They did what? Suguru, are you hurt?” Satoru frantically asks, moving away to flutter his hands all over Suguru’s body, trying to spot any injury.

“I’m fine, Satoru, I’m fine. A paramedic already checked me out, I got one surface slash; it got bandaged and that’s it.”

“You called an ambulance?”

“And the police, too, after I knocked both of them unconscious. All of this happened in the afternoon; I’ve been at the station since maybe 4pm,” Suguru tells him and it’s no wonder that he seems absolutely exhausted.

“What’s going to happen now?” Satoru asks because if the police is involved things might be difficult for Suguru.

“The girls said they want to stay with me, and I also said that I’m amenable to that. I can foster them, no problem.”

“But?” Satoru asks because he senses a big but coming.

He knows Suguru too well after all.

“I—” Suguru awkwardly clears his throat. “I might have told the police that I’m moving in with my boyfriend and I gave them your address for any further correspondence.”

Satoru’s heart threatens to beat right out of his chest but he forces himself to appear calm, even though he feels anything but.

“Suguru, you don’t have to, you know that, right? My offer stands, no matter what and if we have to move to a bigger apartment to accommodate all of you in separate rooms, then that’s no problem. You don’t have to do that because you think you owe me or anything.”

“What if I’m doing it because I’m in love with you?” Suguru gives back and leans in, almost close enough for their lips to meet. “What then?”

“Then I’d say you’re moving in with your boyfriend,” Satoru whispers, before he closes the distance between them. “But I just need to make it clear that you can change your mind at any time. The last few weeks must have been hell for you and I just want you to be okay, no matter what. If this isn’t what you want—”

“Satoru I’ve been in love with you since basically the moment I met you,” Suguru interrupts him with a chuckle and Satoru gapes at him.

“I see,” he finally mutters, darting in to press a kiss to the corner of Suguru’s mouth. “Alright then.” One more kiss. “Are the girls okay with sharing a room or do we have to move?”

“I think for now they are okay with that,” Suguru replies and pulls Satoru so close that he doesn’t have another choice but to sit on his lap. “Thank you. Seriously, Satoru, you’re the best. I don’t know if I could have done any of this without knowing you’d have my back.”

“I always have your back, no matter what.”

“And me coming with the girls now is not too much?”

“Hell no,” Satoru immediately says because he honestly means it that no matter what, he’ll always be in Suguru’s corner. And if he allows it he’ll always be by his side, too.

“I love you,” Suguru sighs out at hearing that and drops his head to Satoru’s shoulder.

“I love you, too, kids and all,” Satoru replies, burying his hand in Suguru’s hair, and pressing a kiss to it as well.

There will be a lot of phone calls to make—changing the lease and the bank account, first and foremost—before they get Suguru’s stuff from his apartment and buy things for the girls, but for right now, Satoru enjoys this quiet moment in his kitchen.

It’ll likely be the last for a while, he thinks when he hears the tell-tale squeak of his bedroom door opening, but as long as Suguru is here, Satoru couldn’t mind that less.

#bt writes #jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #no curses #angst #hurt/comfort #referenced child abuse #getting together #found family

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elisysd · 1 year ago

Text

Ferrari - James Hype

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

You still make my heart beat fast, Ferrari

Charles had naturally insisted on helping Lyanna unpack her things and assemble her furniture in the new flat. And Lyanna had naively agreed, thinking she would be spending a sweet, loving moment with Charles. Which she bitterly regretted. Charles was a walking disaster. He had already dropped the box containing the crockery, which had spilled out onto the floor, shattered into a thousand pieces.

Lyanna asked him to leave her boxes alone and advised him to start assembling the furniture instead. Charles had boasted that she wouldn't find anyone better than him with a screwdriver and a spanner, and she'd trusted him. Second big mistake. She was busy in the bedroom tidying her clothes and organising the drawers when Charles, all proud, came up to her with a big smile on his face, twirling the screwdriver in his hand.

“Your bookshelf never looked so good. I even took the time to put the content that was in the bookshelf box on it.”

“Thank you! You’re the best!”

“Told you. Do you need me to assemble something else while I’m at it?”

Lyanna was about to reply when a loud crash was heard in the living room. She and Charles rushed to find the source of the noise and Lyanna was shocked to see her bookshelf and all its contents on the floor. She heard Charles swallow and out of the corner of her eye saw him rubbing the back of his neck.

“You know what? I think you will be more useful if you just sit on the couch and let me do all of that.”

Finally, Lyanna had managed to assemble her furniture without the help of Charles, whom she had left to tidy up the things she owned that were neither made of glass nor important. By the end of the afternoon, most of the work had been completed. Charles had left a few moments earlier to do some grocery shopping and had just returned. The two of them went into the kitchen and cooked together, even though Lyanna was more concerned with making sure Charles didn't hurt himself than with getting on with the cooking.

“Charles, did you boil the water for the pasta?” she asked

“Why?”

“Please, reassure me, you know that to cook pasta you have to boil the water, don't you?”

“Who do you think I am? Of course I do! In fact, I was just about to. I was just making sure the pan was clean. Do you put a lot of water in it?”

“Uhm, Uhm…” she replied doubtfully. “One liter of water is fine for the pasta.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was going to do, I was just making sure…”

“Yeah, sure. You can admit it you know, you’re a mess in the kitchen Charles, there is nothing wrong with that.”

“I’m not a mess! I can cook decently well.”

“You’ve never cooked for me.”

“That’s false! Do you remember that time when I took you out for dinner on the boat? I made you pasta Bolognese.”

“Sure, if you call reheating a pre-prepared dish "cooking yourself" then fine.”

“I didn’t come here for my cooking skills to be bullied, love.” Falsely complained Charles.

“Oh, my poor baby. Did I hurt your ego?” teased him Lyanna.

“Nothing a kiss can’t fix.”

Once the meal was ready, Lyanna served it onto two plates that had miraculously escaped Charles' slaughter. They spent the evening laughing and teasing each other between kisses when Charles received a notification that the interview they had done with Lyanna a few weeks earlier was finally online. Both curious, Lyanna cleared away the plates before settling down on the sofa next to Charles. While they expected to see each other on screen, they were shocked to see that the interview was in fact moments of complicity between them stolen between takes with their voices over the top. However, the Scuderia had taken great care to keep only the moments when Charles was talking about Lyanna and vice versa. They didn't know how or when, but there was even footage of them during the last Grand Prix, just before Charles's crash, including the one where Lyanna witnessed it. They didn't like seeing their relationship exposed in this way against their will. Charles turned to Lyanna and promised that he would sort it out. He didn't know how, but he would.

“Or maybe we could try to be more public about our relationship? I’m not saying that we have to overshare but if we control what we post and how we want to post it, then we own the narrative and Ferrari can’t do what they want about us.”

“We don’t have to, Lya. I know how you feel about letting people in in our relationship.”

“I prefer to control how I let them in rather than let Ferrari decide it.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am Charles. I am.”

But Lyanna barely had time to get used to her new surroundings before she had to leave for Modena. It was on a beautiful but cool morning in the middle of February that she and Charles set off. Charles was on his way to Maranello, where the presentation of the SF-24 would take place in a few days' time. Lyanna would accompany him. But in the meantime, she had work to do. She had recently received the final version of the Ferrari script and since then she had spent a lot of time taking notes and learning her lines.

Charles had seen very little of her, as he too had a lot of work to do and was much in demand by the media. But as soon as he picked her up, he immediately noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

“Lya? You okay? You look like shit, baby.”

“Great. Because I feel like shit as well.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t get my lines straight. I tried everything and it just feels so out of place when I say them. I can’t get the right intention and it’s stressing me out. I’m missing something, I know that, but I don’t know what it is.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine. You are putting too much pressure on you. Relax, okay?”

“Easier said than done.” She mumbled while looking away.

“Do you want to come to the car presentation with me? I can give you a tour of the factory and there are many resources there, like books, press articles and pictures, maybe sit can help you?”

“Do you think people would mind? Because that for sure could really help. Thanks, you’re a life saver.”

“They wouldn’t care as long as you return them which you will.”

The long hours of driving passed in total silence. Lyanna had dozed off shortly after setting off, and given the state she was in, Charles had no wish to wake her. It was almost late afternoon and pitch dark when they arrived at Charles's flat in Maranello. With a delicate touch of his hand he tried to wake the actress, who grunted a little before turning away, letting a small laugh escape from his lips. She sank a little further into the seat and pulled up her jacket, which was slipping off her shoulders.

“Lya, love, we’re here.”

“I’m sleeping… go away.”

“I can’t let you sleep in the car; it would not make me win the boyfriend of the year award, right?”

“I don’t care, you have already won it in my opinion.”

“Come on, love. Wake up.”

Willy-nilly, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Charles got out of the car and took their things. As Lyanna was settling in for the three months of filming, she had packed a lot of stuff, whereas Charles only had his travelling suitcase, which he used when he went racing. As soon as they had entered the flat and unpacked their belongings, Lyanna took out her computer to continue working.

“Lya, maybe take a break? You are stressing yourself out, love. Put that thing away for tonight.”

“I can’t Charles… I still have a lot to do and nowhere near ready. Filming start next week and I’m just not ready at all.”

“Yeah, but it’s making you sick and I don’t like that.”

“It’s just… you understand. I know you do. It’s Ferrari, we can’t mess up. There are going to be expectations, the movie will attract a lot of attention. It’s going to be demanding, I know it will and it’s just so hard. I don’t know if I can handle such pressure.”

“I know you can. Do you know why? Because they did not cast you by chance or pure hazard. They did it because they thought you were the best. They believe in you as much as I believe in you and how amazing you are going to be. I can’t wait to see the movie. Not only because it’s Ferrari but because I’m going to be able to walk out of the theater and tell people that the incredible Lyanna Michel is my girlfriend and I’m so lucky. I’m going to brag about you so much that it’s going to make people sick. But I don’t care because it’s your time to shine. So please, Lya, take all the shine of the spotlight because baby, it is made for you.”

“You’re so damn good with words…”

“That’s one of my many talents, indeed. But does it work?”

“Whenever I think you can’t be more perfect you prove me wrong.”

The following day, Charles spent his last day before starting the season with the presentation of SF-24, helping Lya to rehearse. This was a welcome distraction for the young woman, as it allowed her to approach her work in a different way from what she was used to. Charles made her laugh with his clumsy attempts and dramatic acting. He was so bad that it made him cute. Still, it took the pressure off Lyanna and allowed her to approach her character in a much more relaxed way.

And then came the day of the car presentation. Charles and Lyanna had risen early to travel to Maranello and by the time they arrived, a crowd had gathered outside the factory, shouting Charles's name at the sight of the Pista. The driver took the time to roll down his window to collect gifts, sign autographs and take photos. They were surrounded, and to help Charles, Lyanna in turn lowered her window and gathered the gifts from those who were not on the right side of the car. She could hear the thank-you in Italian, the only words she knew in the language. She soon found herself dizzy with the noise and the crowd and glanced at Charles, who also seemed overwhelmed. But he still took the time to say a few words to each person. After what seemed like an eternity, they were finally able to park inside the factory.

“Is it always like that?” asked Lyanna as they stepped out of the car.

“Pretty much, yeah. Thanks by the way for the help.” said Charles, taking her hand in his.

“I must admit that I was not expecting that. I mean, I saw firsthand on races that you had your fans but here, it’s like another dimension.”

“They are pretty committed and passionate. It’s nice to see.”

“Definitely. And I have to say that hearing you speaking Italian makes me feel things that I wasn’t expecting to feel.” She confessed while nudging him.

“Oh, really? Then I must speak more in Italian…” he teased her making her blush.

“Coming from you, it sounds as sexy as indecent.”

He laughed and winked at her. They were greeted by Fred himself, who gave Charles a hug before doing the same with Lyanna, which surprised her greatly. Charles was then quickly taken aside by Mia and Silvia, who had to brief him on how the presentation was going to work and what was expected of him. He barely had time to place a kiss on the actress's lips and whisper a "see you later" before he disappeared, leaving her alone with Fred.

“I did not know you were coming.” He said to her while guiding her to the break room. “Coffee? Tea? Hot Chocolate?”

“Coffee, thanks. Well I’m in Modena for a new project starting very soon so… and we want to spend as much time as possible together before he leaves.”

“New project in Modena, hum? Tell me, or not because maybe you can’t but, I know a movie about Ferrari is going to be shot in the area. They asked for authorization a few months ago to film here in the factory. Do I guess correctly if I say that you are part of it?”

“You’re not wrong. That’s also why I’m here, for research purposes, let’s say. I thought that it could help me understand everything a bit better. And Charles told me that there were articles and books that I could borrow… if it’s possible, I mean.”

“I can’t see why it would be a problem.”

Fred poured her coffee and sat down opposite to her. There was an awkward silence. Despite his jovial face, Lyanna still found Fred intimidating.

“I know that we don’t know each other that much, even though it feels like it with how much Charles talks about you, but I never got the chance to thank you.”

This took Lyanna aback.

“But why? I mean, I’ve never done anything.”

“That’s where you are wrong. I really saw Charles improvement with the way he raced when you were there. At least before... you know. He changed. He is much calmer and confident since you’re around. I think he finally found the balance between his racing life and his personal one. He is at peace. Finally. And I know the boy since a very long time. I basically consider him as my son.”

“I think… we balance each other. He gave me a lot. Much more than what I gave him, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, make no mistake, Charles might be too proud to admit it but I do think that you gave him a lot to. He has always been very closed off with his feelings. Well, the negative ones, at least. He doesn’t like to talk about certain things, I’m sure you know what I mean. But last time he was here he was talking about Jules, but not like how he used to. He was joking about something that was about Jules. It never happened. Whenever Charles was talking about him it always gave me the feeling that he was he was tasked with a mission that was far too heavy for his shoulders. Sometimes, I wonder if he really allowed himself the time to grief. Grieve Jules and grieve Hervé. That’s what I mean when I say that now he seems in peace. You, somehow, helped him heal. That’s all pure speculation, of course I’m not in his head. But I know him and I don’t think I’m wrong.”

“We both helped each other, I guess. If I make this movie, it’s thanks to Charles. He believed in me and he always knows exactly what I need to hear. I’m lucky. So lucky. And now, I won’t say that I believe in myself as much as he does, but I’m on the right path. So, if I can give him back just maybe ten percent of what he offers me daily, then it makes me happy.”

“It’s way more than ten percent Lyanna. Way more.”

The discussion was interrupted by Fred's phone ringing to tell him that the show was about to start and that he was expected on the stage set up near the runway. He motioned for Lyanna to follow him and she took her place with the engineers and other staff at Maranello. Some of them recognised her as Charles' girlfriend, which to her surprise did not bother Lyanna. Then the show began with the Italian anthem, followed by Charles and Carlos and Fred on stage. A few words to explain their excitement to finally discover the car and to be able to try it out, before thanking all those present today on the site or in front of their screens.

Half an hour later, it was over. The show would resume in a few minutes, just long enough for the pilots to get into their racing suits so they could try out the SF-24. Lyanna took the opportunity to have a chat with the people present. She could feel the passion not only for their work but also, and above all, for the brand. She also learned a lot about the history of Ferrari by asking questions here and there. The Maranello employees were an inexhaustible source of knowledge.

She found Charles much later when she was in a room that a woman had shown her where there were photos, trophies, and lots of objects from Enzo Ferrari's time, as well as biographies.

“Hey, you’re here. I was searching for you.”

“I found Ali Baba’s cave. This place is a goldmine. So, how do you feel?”

“I want to be cautious because we have to wait for the pre-season testing in Bahrain… But it felt great. For the first time in a long time I really feel like we could have a winning car, Lya. A real chance at the championship. Can you imagine?”

He sounded like a child during Christmas.

“But now, we have to improve on everything else. Not fucking up the evolutions, not make bad strategic calls. I don’t wat to get my hopes up.”

“Trust your instincts Charles. Most of the time, they are not wrong.”

And indeed, the tests in Bahrain confirmed Charles' first impressions. The SF-24 was on a par with Max's Red Bull, which meant that the competition would be close. Unless Red Bull was playing a clever game. Lyanna was the first person he called as soon as he got back to the hotel. He'd only been gone a few days, but it already felt like an eternity. He missed her terribly and the idea that they would see very little of each other for the next three months made Charles feel nervous, which he didn't like.

So it was a stressed Charles that Lya found on the phone as she returned from a day of location scouting and lunch with the crew.

“The car is good, Lya. Really good.”

“So why do you sound so sad about it? Should’t you be excited?”

“Because the last time I was excited by the car it all went downhill very quickly.”

“It was another time, Charles. Where Fred was not there. And you know you have Fred in your corner.”

“Yeah... the media are a pain in the ass as well. They couldn’t stop asking me questions and it was way worse when they started to see the performances of the car. It’s just… I always thought that I could handle the pressure. But today… I just want to be alone. I just want to race and not having to deal with the bullshit.”

“Maybe you could talk about that to Silvia?”

She could hear him sigh from the other end of the line.

“She thinks the opposite. Now that we seem to be back at the front, she wants us even more in the media. I wish you could be there. You would make everything more bearable.”

“You know that if I could snap my fingers and teleport to your side, I'd do it in a heartbeat. You know I would.”

“You’ll watch the race, right?”

“I’ll be cheering you on so loud that you’ll hear me from the other side of the world.”

====================

author's note: I almost cried writing Lya and Fred conversation. I love this chapter. And I love Lya and Fred together, it's a duo that I never thought I needed but it just feels so write. As usual, let me know your thoughts and don't forget to comment / use the ask box if you are too shy / like / reblog. It supports the story and let me know that you like it. taglist: @zendayabelova @purplephantomwolf @ru-kru @dakotali @blueflorals @aundercover @ruleroftheuniverse @fangirlika @writerscurse @elijahmikaelsonbitch @leclerc13 @karmabyfernando @stargaryenx @pitlanebabe @boiohboii @reengard If you are tagged but did not receive any notifications, please check your settings because it means that Tumblr didn't let me tag you.

#writing #charles leclerc #fiction #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #cl16 #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x female reader #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x oc #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader

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noxexistant · 1 year ago

Note

Having more Delancey Thoughts so naturally I bring them to you:

(I'm in the "Morris is older" camp so feel free to substitute this with Oscar should you choose)

Jack doesn't like stealing, but he'll do it if any of his boys needs something and they can't get it any other way. Usually he doesn't get caught.

Until Morris catches him. Morris, whose pockets are also crammed with stolen food and a bottle of medicine from the apothecary.

Neither knows what to say. It's too awkward a situation.

"You gonna call a cop on me?" Jack asks.

Morris can't. He doesn't like the newsies, none of them, but he knows the struggle of trying to care for your younger sibling. Because Oscar hasn't had a decent meal in six days and he's been in pain all over for twice as many. And Morris doesn't care what he's got to do to make sure his brother gets what he needs.

"...We keep this 'tween us." Morris offers, "I don't like you, Kelly. But I know what bein' a big brother's like."

Jack doesn't know how to respond. The Delanceys don't show charity like this to anyone.

"You go home, you feed your brothers. You forget you saw me here, you don't mention it tomorrow at work."

Jack can't bring himself to ever thank a Delancey. Morris doesn't want to be thanked.

as always, i am eating your delancey thoughts eagerly. i am personally so deep in younger morris camp that i could not crawl out if i tried, BUT may i offer you:

jack and morris near collide with each other in the back aisle of a general store, far enough away from the lodging house that the clerk don’t watch them like the ones closer that know them do. jack’s got a couple combs stuffed into the waist of his trousers, a few pairs of socks stuffed down his shirt, toothbrushes, a specific kind of soap ‘cause buttons is allergic to the one they got, and one of them little sewing kits in a tin ‘cause there’s too many holes in all the boys’ clothes and they been out of anything to fix ‘em for way too long. winter’s setting in, jack’s stocking up.

morris don’t hardly look like he’s stocking up. he’s only got one thing, clutched tight in one hand - tight enough that jack can see the colour washing from his bruised knuckles. it must sting, but morris don’t seem to mind. his focus is single-minded, though he seems startled now. scared. reminds jack of when he knocks one of his boys out of a bad dream.

morris seems to get like that a lot. daydreaming. he’s been worse with it lately, while oscar’s been nowhere jack could ever see him. he has half a mind to ask where oscar’s been, but asking if morris is gonna snitch seems like a better question. and morris don’t say no - don’t say anything - but he at least sure don’t look like he’s gonna call the bulls. he looks awful, hair in tangled curls beneath his hat pulled low, eyes all sunk like he ain’t been sleeping, hands shaking. he’s glancing at the door, restless, squeezing one trembling hand around the little bottle in his palm.

medicine, jack realises suddenly.

something os won’t take, morris knows. he won’t take any medicine, swears it’s what took pa, and morris don’t often try to push the issue but oscar’s been bad, especially the last few days. can’t even get out of bed now. wiesel’s getting mad, and morris is tired, hungry, scared. he wants oscar better. wishes he knew what to do. almost wishes he could ask kelly - he’s got a lot of brothers, always seems like he knows what to do, surely must know what to do if any of his boys get sick - but morris can’t do that any more than he can ask the chemist he stole from.

jack’s talking more, morris thinks. he ain’t listening, can’t process a bit of it. it’s like he’s in another room.

“you gon’ call th’bulls on me?” morris finally manages to ask, stilted, cutting off jack mid-word without even realising. he doesn’t care anyway. he doesn’t like jack. he just wants to leave, wants to get back to oscar.

and jack ain’t stupid, despite what plenty people might think. he’s got brains enough to put together the puzzle of oscar delancey disappearing and morris delancey stealing medicine. and brains enough to understand and take advantage of morris clearly not caring about the stuff clearly shoved in jack’s pockets.

“you go get your brother better,” jack tells him, “i still got scores to settle with ‘im.”

morris needs no more encouragement. he disappears out the door, head bowed, back hunched.

it’s weeks later that jack sees oscar. it’s a different store - jack ain’t stupid enough to target the same place twice in a row. and maybe oscar got told by morris which store he used last time, because he’s here now too and this time it’s oscar with his pockets stuffed. his trouser pockets and the pockets of his woollen work coat are swollen with food, he looks like he’s got some socks or something stuffed up his sleeve. jack wonders if maybe he’s got some medicine too, because this time jack does - it’s all he’s got this time. sniper’s been hacking and wheezing.

“fancy seein’ you here,” jack says, just to be obnoxious. oscar bares his teeth, snarling like a dog, but he’s quiet and still.

“we’se even,” oscar tells him lowly. he only elaborates when jack gives him a confused look. “las’ time. mo told me ‘bout your little run-in. you kept it quiet then. so don’ squeal now either an’ we won’t have no issues.”

“what, we got a deal?” jack huffs, laughing, looking around the apparent no man’s land of the general store. an innocuous space where the delanceys won’t be themselves for once. “this a truce?”

oscar don’t laugh.

“i know what it’s like to be a big brother,” he forces out. jack stops laughing too, the bottle of medicine suddenly feeling heavier in his hand. “so you go home, an’ you get your brothers better. an’ i’ll get mine fed. an’ we both forget we saw each other here.”

oscar glances pointedly at jack’s pockets like his own ain’t filled to bursting, but jack supposes it makes sense when it’d been the reverse the last time. morris’d probably exaggerated it too, made it sound like jack was robbing the place blind.

“i don’ like you,” jack tells him. “an’ your brother neither.”

“i’on like you,” oscar says right back. “so we’se even. an’ hopefully we won’ never see each other again outside a’ work.”

jack knows there are only so many stores within their very specific radius to steal from.

“see you at work,” he says instead of saying that, bidding oscar off with a two-finger salute and a grin. oscar glares and goes, straightening himself up and walking with the intent to scare.

jack glances at the medicine in his pocket once he’s gone. the same kind - near enough - as morris’d been stealing that night. must be decent stuff, if it got oscar back to this.

jack takes it.

#answered #whistlingstarlight #morris delancey #oscar delancey #jack kelly #my writing

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hiraeth-ink · 1 year ago

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Rhyngom (Between Us) - Chapter One

Chapter one - Rhoi Ffidil yn y Tô.

Pairing - Frankie Morales x reader.

Series summary - Dipping your toes in the dating pool again after taking a break, you find yourself disappointed once again. What happens when you meet the perfect man in Francisco Morales? Can two people, scarred by their pasts, work through their issues together?

Warnings - swearing, sexist/misogynistic comments, mention of Andrew Tate (ew I'm sorry), mention of cheating.

Four dates. Four failed dates in the last month. Four failed FIRST dates, none of them were decent enough to want to see again. One failed date a month. Four men. Four boys? Whatever they were, they were not worth the time spent on them this last month.

One of these failed dates was happening right now. He was handsome, tall with dark hair and dark eyes; he was your type. Well, he was your type physically, his personality was very quickly turning you off, he was talking incessantly at you, not even bothering to ask you anything about yourself, clearly his life was way too interesting for him to want to hear even a tiny morsel of information about yours.

“....yeah but it’s really not worth it you know, especially if I can’t have a beer afterwards,” Jack(?) continues to ramble on and you force a chuckle, which you doubt actually convinced him that you thought what he said was funny, or even that you were listening to anything he was saying.

Jesus Christ, what a boring guy.

So boring that you had already mapped out the exits in the dimly lit restaurant. There was the main entrance, only a few tables away, all you would have to do is walk to the bar, maybe pretend to ask the bartender for a drink, wait for your date to pick up his phone, no doubt to text one of his friends to boast about trying to take you to bed tonight (not happening), and then rush passed the happy couples sat at the candlelit tables, bright smiles adorning their lovestruck faces. Unfortunately, that was the only exit in sight, but your date’s rambling was tempting you to get up and leave without an explanation. Regret was quickly travelling through you, as if it was seeping into your pores, covering your whole body, entering you seamlessly and asking the question, why the fuck did you agree to this?

You were trying. Trying so hard to take your therapist's advice about putting yourself out there again, Dr Williams had said it would be productive for you to go on dates, dust off the high heels or whatever she’d said. You had been taking a break from dating, a long one, from men in general, dubbing them not worth the trouble, the pain, the time. But apparently, avoiding dating, intimacy and men in general isn’t just being independent or a ‘boss bitch who doesn't need a man’ as you’ve chanted in the mirror countless times, it’s just deep intimacy issues. Apparently, you're scared of intimacy, of opening up to people, of showing yourself too closely, just in case they change their mind, no longer like what they see and leave.

“...and you know what, if I’m paying for all the dates, then yeah I expect the woman to do my laundry and the dishes and all that, you know? Because it’s not even about the money, it’s…,”

These last four dates were enough to take you right back into a long break from men, or this time maybe you would just give up. This guy, Jack, or was it Jake? Anyway, this guy’s blatant misogyny was too much to listen to so you chugged your glass of wine and, cutting him off from expressing his riveting opinion on so-called 50/50 while dating, mumbled a half-assed excuse to leave halfway through the meal. Ignoring the shocked look on his face, you rise from your chair, ignore his protests and leave the restaurant, not feeling one ounce of guilt for leaving him with the bill. If you had more energy, maybe you would have lectured him on his obvious sexism, tell him to skip the Andrew Tate videos on his feed, but you needed to get out, distance yourself from him, from his voice, from his gaze that shamelessly wandered down to your cleavage at the end of every sentence.

Back at your apartment, you’re in your comfiest clothes in bed, with a glass of wine, determined to at least try and enjoy what is left of your Friday night. After sending your best friend Ava a text, filling her in on the abrupt ending of the date with the self absorbed asshole, you turn on a crappy dating show and half listen to what they’re saying. A loud knock at the door interrupts your trash tv session. You push back the duvet and, with great confusion, make your way to the door. You glance at the clock on the oven on the way, which reads 20:45. You definitely weren’t expecting company tonight, your mind races with possibilities as to who could be standing on the other side of the door as you cast a glance into the peephole. Your mind is silenced when you see the familiar dark curls of your closest friend, Ava. Her dark hair, unruly but graceful, elegant in the way it falls down her back and frames her face. Her eyes, also dark, are kind and honest, you know them as the eyes that always searched you out in the parties she’d drag you to back in college, the eyes that no matter what she told you; good news or bad, would gaze softly into yours, with enough compassion to soften any blow. Ava has been there for you through it all; when the sunny sky disappears and you're alone in the rain, Ava shelters you, so really it’s no surprise that she heard about your shitty night and came straight over, bottle of wine clutched in her right hand and a bright smile on her face when you open the door.

“Couldn’t leave you all alone after you just got up and left a date. I can’t believe you did that, before you would have just sat there all quiet, waiting for it to be over,” she says to you over her shoulder, after pushing into your apartment and taking off her coat, the ease with which she does this evidencing the amount of times she’s burst through the door, treating the space as if it was her own.

“I’m so proud of you Fig! I mean you just, you weren’t happy so you left! That's how you need to be in this game, don’t waste any time,” she continues as she grabs two glasses from the cupboard and begins generously pouring the wine.

“Yeah well, thought I might as well end my last date with a bang,” you say through a half hearted chuckle, and immediately regret it when she looks at you, eyes full of pity as she raises her glass to her mouth, mumbling a you don't mean that.

“I do Ava, I really do,” you sigh, frustration evident in your tone. You gulp from your glass and continue, “I would rather be single forever than go on another date with some guy who calls himself a high value man, who’s actually just a raging sexist hiding behind traditional values,” you exclaimed, voice straining with annoyance and hands flying up to mimic air quotes. You were truly exhausted. Exhausted of trying to find someone you were compatible with, someone you could enjoy the simple things with. Exhausted of only finding men with no feminist bone in their body, no emotional intelligence, no empathy, not even basic conversation skills. You were just looking for love. At your core, you wanted to be loved. Sure, you’d had relationships in the past, you’d been in love, but you hadn’t received the love you wanted. You gave the love you wanted to receive, but it was never reciprocated. Or if it was, it was taken away just as quickly as it was given, handed to you and then snatched back to its rightful owner. You wanted laughter, soft kisses in bed at night, you wanted to let someone in, allow them to see the deepest parts of you and be loved all the more for it. You wanted tight embraces in the morning, you wanted to feel their grasp loosening reluctantly, accompanied with whispers of just five more minutes. More importantly, you wanted this consistently, not just for the first few months of the relationship, not just until they show their true colours. Not just until they find someone new and give them the love you craved.

It’s what you want, but how can you even look for it? How can you look for such light when the darkness is so overbearing? It seemed easier to give up all hope.

“Ok, look,” Ava cuts in, as if reading your mind, “you can’t give up because I know a guy that I think you might really like. Nothing like the guys you’ve been on dates with lately. He’s respectful, kind, and actually, doesn't really talk all that much. I can guarantee he wouldn’t fill an entire date with constant jabbering about himself.”

“I don’t know Ava,”

“Did I mention he’s cute?” She hurriedly exclaims before you can fully shut her down. “Curly dark hair, dark eyes, broad shoulders, he’s very strong looking. And… I have it on good authority that he’s good in bed. It’s always the quiet ones, you know?”

You watch her as she tries to hide the smirk growing on her lips, bringing her wine up to her mouth and taking a long sip. She’s obviously proud of herself, her convincing nature once again swaying you into saying yes.

“He sounds nice Ava but I can’t do another blind date, I don’t have it in me.”

“That’s ok, babe. Just come to the little get together Benny’s hosting on Saturday. He’ll be there. You should wear that purple dress you look good in, you know, the one with the flowers under the boobs,” she says while gesturing to her underboob aggressively. “You never know, you might get lucky. Finally break that dry spell you’ve got goin’ on.”

You ignore her dry spell comment, there's nothing you can say to combat it, she’s right. It’s been a while, a very dry while since you’ve even met a guy that made you want to have sex. So instead you ask how she knows the guy she’s planning on setting you up with.

“He’s been friends with Benny for years, they served together.”

This new piece of information steered you towards saying yes, you knew Benny well. He was an amazing partner to Ava, treated her well. You liked Benny, you trusted him. He wouldn’t be friends with anyone you’d want to stay away from, right?

You sighed and asked, “What’s this guy’s name?”, and drank the last of your wine. You were about to hear the name of the man who would effortlessly weave his way into your life. You were strangers at that point in time, as you stood in your kitchen, ready to completely close yourself off. But you would soon walk the paths at which strangers cross, and this path turned into the path you walked together. No longer strangers, lives intertwining.

“Francisco Morales.”

#francisco morales x you #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x reader

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murdersinthemaking · 9 months ago

Note

“Aren’t you glad you’re actually being useful for once?”

Aaron smiles behind his mask, a thoughtful present from a friend that obscures the lower half of his face, showing nothing but black bone and gold fangs where his mouth ought to be. He doesn’t like to have something on his face while he’s working, but needs must. It wouldn’t do to be caught like an idiot just because he forgot to hide his identity.

Murdock sits in the chair, tied down and beautifully bloodied. They’d had a disagreement just a few hours before, and Aaron had finally decided that the other man had outlived his usefulness. What was the point of keeping someone around if they couldn’t even properly entertain him?

Thankfully, their disagreement had been in the midst of fucking, so that had saved him the effort of having to cut his clothes off. The only thing Murdock was wearing was a gag that was not coming off. Aaron really wasn’t in the mood to deal with his smart mouth anymore. He himself was only wearing some jeans, but it was unlikely that those would stay on for the duration of this… playtime.

“I’ve missed doing these,” he announces, talking a little more loudly and theatrically than he normally would. He had an audience to entertain, after all. “I bet y’all missed me too, huh? Yeah, I know.” He steps away from his computer and from the camera, red light blinking in the darkened room. Familiar names flash across the screen, and Aaron laughs. “Bunch of freaks.”

He’s set everything up so he can get a good shot of his victim, naked and glaring daggers at him, even if everything else in the room is obscured. It’s not his first rodeo, he knows what he’s doing.

“I’m so glad you can’t hear him yap, trust me, he would have gone on for hours. Pretty pathetic,” he tells his viewers, making his way back to Murdock’s side and grabbing his hair, pulling his head back to give everyone a good view of his battered face. “I’ve got a special one for us today. What do you think? Pretty boring, no?” He chuckles, and shakes his victim’s head harshly, making the man groan. “Now, this might be controversial, because of professional courtesy and all that bullshit, but this guy right here went around as the Jackal, believe it or not. Ring any bells? I know, I know, he barely looks like anything decent.”

He whistles as the comments flood in, not reading most of them, just comforted in the fact that yes, his audience knew exactly who this was. Of course they did.

“Get a good look at his face, guys, not every day I can bring you a catch like this. Not the ugliest fucker I’ve seen, pretty eyes,” he hums analytically, before letting go of Murdock’s hair. “Not a great lay, but you guys know where my standards are.”

With that, he walks around his tied-up meal and goes to grab a knife from his work desk. He can feel Murdock’s eyes on him, glaring, probably calling him all sorts of things inside that head of his, but Aaron doesn’t care anymore. He’s done with Murdock, and when he’s done with something, that something has got to go.

“I won’t be taking suggestions today,” he tells the camera bluntly, toying with the dark knife he’d picked up. “It’s a self-care day today. You’re all just invited to watch.”

Turning to Murdock, his eyes glint mirthfully. “All mine now. Shouldn’t have pushed me so much, Jackal. Weakling whore.”

Aaron, without hesitation, sits down on Murdock’s naked lap, back turned to the camera, feeling how his body tenses, wanting to fight or flee and being unable to do either. Delicious. He laughs and runs his nails down the man’s chest, as if this was just another hookup and not their last moments. The arm with the knife hooks around the other’s neck so he can sit more comfortably while his other hand firmly grasps his soft cock.

“You could have been so much more,” he murmurs so only Murdock can hear, teasing him to hardness. He can tell it’s not something the other wants, which only makes it better. So good, when the body betrays the mind, and the victim is left feeling helpless and broken. “You could have kept your mouth shut and not pissed me off. And now look at what you’ve done. Such a weak little pathetic man, making me do this.”

He squeezes Murdock’s cock, while his other hand, holding the blade, leaves a deep cut in the man’s shoulder. There’s no screaming, not yet. Despite his mocking, Aaron knows Murdock isn’t a weakling who’ll fold in the first five minutes.

It’s sad he has to keep his mask on. He wants that blood, wants it badly.

Pulling away, he lets his viewers get a glimpse of the man’s state: pathetic as was his usual. Cock hard and weeping, face bruised, blood running down his chest, while he still can’t move either arms or legs.

Aaron’s getting off on this. Of course he is.

He hums as he lets the knife slide all the way across Murdock’s chest, easily parting the skin, and finally getting some agonized noises out of his dear victim. Pity the man talks too much, he would have liked to hear those screams without being muffled by the gag. The knife continues its dance, stopping just short of Murdock’s throat. Not yet.

“Best he’s ever looked, isn’t it?” Aaron asks his audience, but he doesn't care about whatever they’re saying. "You should have seen him sucking cock, really desperate type of thing." He reaches down and squeezes his own cock through his jeans, trying to relieve some of the pressure so he can make this last longer. “Fuck.”

His knife work is his pride, and he follows the lines of Murdock’s body flawlessly, leaving trails of blood and exposed muscle, sometimes nicking bone out of spite. All throughout, he can hear Murdock screaming, unable to escape or even beg for mercy. He gives him no quarter, alternating cutting and caressing the uninjured parts of his body. And when his victim is in too much pain to properly show how much he is enjoying Aaron’s touch, well, a quick jab of a needle fixes that immediately. He can tell Murdock hates every second of it, angry, humiliated, pained tears finally falling.

Aaron talks through all of it, though even he has his limit. Murdock’s bleeding too much, and Aaron’s way too fucking horny to just let him die by passing out.

He grabs Murdock’s hair and pulls his head up, so the audience can get one last good look at his face, before he’s letting go and straddling him. His jeans have been rising low for the pas thor, and it only takes him a few seconds to pull them down and roughly sink himself down on Murdock. The body under his jerks, and there’s a keening whine, but he ignores it, because he’s full and so fucking close already. The knife is almost forgotten as he rolls his hips, back arched and head thrown back, stroking himself until he comes with a strangled moan. The pleasure runs down his spine and makes him curl his toes, squeezing around the dick still inside him.

“Shit,” Aaron pants, glancing at Murdock’s glazed expression, “should have used you like a toy more often. This is the best you've ever looked, a used-up, weak little slut. Bet you enjoyed that, too, like the fuckdoll you always were.”

Grunting, he gets up, front covered in blood from where he’d leaned into Murdock as he rode him, and his own cum on his stomach. “That scratched that itch,” he sighs as he stretches, making the bare minimum effort to pull his jeans up. “Yeah, I think you’re done.”

Walking around the chair, he leans down to press the tip of the knife to the side of Murdock’s ribs. “Don’t worry, though, Jackal,” he says, loud enough for both his victim and his viewers to hear him, “we won’t be done with your corpse for a few hours yet. You just get to enjoy these last few minutes.”

With that, he slashes the knife across the man’s stomach, letting everything spill out, and he makes sure to angle Murdock’s face down so he can see himself spilling out on the floor for a few good, long seconds, before the knife is coming up and slashing his neck open.

Panting, Aaron stands back for a moment, shuddering from the adrenaline, before he has the presence of mind to actually look at his comments. Most of them are pleased, some suggesting further things he could do with the body. Some are disappointed he didn't make it last longer. Can't please everybody.

“You want to see his eyes? Sure, let me just get a smaller knife for that. Could have sworn I had my scalpel around here...”

I love you apis

#Apis you have my heart forever #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #cruelly acquainted

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suomeen · 7 months ago

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Chapter 6: Cold Waves and Warm Welcomes

On January 2, Russia launched 99 missiles on Kyiv and Kharkiv, leaving dozens wounded and dead. A part of me felt guilty for not being there, even though it would have done absolutely no good. But it also reminded me I made the right call.

Meanwhile, the temperature outside dropped to up to -35 degrees. Apparently, this was unusual even for Finland and a record for the century. I’m glad I had a very thick and warm down jacket with me because I can’t image what I’d do without it. At one point, I had a doctor’s appointment and I miscalculated the distance to the clinic. It turned out to be a 8-minute walk and not 3 so I was genuinely concerned I might get a frostbite because I wasn’t feeling my hands or face. I had to seek refuge in the nearest door, which turned out to be a musical instrument shop with a cool staff.

Our apartment with white beds and plastic cups felt more like a hospital ward. We took very little with us, so we needed all kinds of things, big and small. You don’t really realize how many things you need in your daily life until you have to start anew. Mops and can openers, brushes and scissors, kettles and curtains, - there are so many things you don’t think about but the absence of which makes life very uncomfortable. So we took to the flea markets and consignment shops. We were building our life from the ground up. But we had to still consider the fact that we could be moved any time so we shouldn’t get anything big or costly. Make it cozier but don’t get too attached. From now on, you don’t have a home.

About a week into the year, another young woman moved in. Tetiana is from the Western Ukraine, though she spent the past 10 years working in Poland. At first, I wasn’t sure if we would get along. She seemed a little chaotic, very alert and a kind of territorial. But soon I realized it was just the result of her life experience. She’s working class and spent years working odd jobs, in factories and cleaning, often having to share rooms with very questionable people. She got fucked over a lot so her apprehension became very understandable. Once she felt she was in company of decent friendly people, she relaxed and showed a very different side. She’s not educated, but very curious and hard-working and also quite childlike when you get to know her. She proved to be an excellent cohabitant.

Tetiana also knows how to grip life by the balls so she gets around quickly. There was a middle-aged Ukrainian man living on the first floor. We soon learned his name was Uncle Sasha and many people would come and ask about him. We didn’t know him but it wasn’t hard to connect the dots. Uncle Sasha knows things and how to get things. Soon though he was moving out because his children moved and the apartment was considered too big for him and his wife. He had to clear out the apartment, including furniture. This is how we got an old but comfy sofa and a bunch of teen boy clothes. Our standard of living took off.

It took some time to get used to our new arrangement but after a while, the 4 of us formed a loose but stable bond, keeping a healthy distance. We were always very polite and supportive to each other. We often shared meals and occasionally drinks. We gave each other space when he felt someone needed it. It really worked.

Sharing an apartment and a life with strangers… It’s not something I would ever choose but it was nice to live through. It’s amazing how in such a short time you can develop a rather close companionship. It felt like a blessing.

One day I had a talk with one of the social workers from the reception center who came over to install new locks. Not many of them speak English well so I took the opportunity. She was incredibly nice and kind. We had a warm earnest talk and she told me they were there to do everything they could to make us feel at home and give us everything we need. I told her I would love to give back in some way and that I’m doing my best to learn. She said I could take my time, there was no rush. I nearly cried. I asked her for a hug before she left. And I am not a hugger. At all.

Once we finally got our IDs and prepaid cards, my mind was finally somewhat at ease. There was some sort of stability.

But of course, this was just another illusion and it made the upcoming reality check even harder.

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