#destroying what little is left of my mental health

[capricioussun]

Been on the brink of a full blown meltdown all day and couldn't figure out why I've been so out of sorts but it's art fight. It's 100% art fight. I'm stuck on the final parts of the second attack and I'm just getting more bent out of shape the longer it draws out and I've just gotten slower at making stuff lately so I'm really upset I haven't gotten more done yet this month.

That's why I've been so completely stressed out and miserable. Deadlines

[vaguely-concerned]

lucanis' last question when interrogating zara's corpse -- whether illario also asked her to kill caterina -- is so telling. because if illario had done that, I actually do think lucanis would have killed him. (his standards are predictably wild and hilarious in a dark sort of way. listen I can forgive you for killing me that's fine understandable even but there's a limit to everything illario.) which is why he saves that question for last: it's the one thing he really does not want to know the answer to. because if the answer is yes, it's going to need action from him that would be so psychologically catastrophic that nothing the ossuary could do to him would compare, that would have been the end of him too, I feel, even with rook and the team there to try to catch him or pick up the pieces. I love how if you pay attention you can trace out the underlying hurt/logic already here, before it gets spelled out in inner demons. the logic lucanis' brain operates on is very sad and very consistent the whole way throughout the game.

[lupawolfe76]

!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m free baby!!!!

I got into another uni!!! No more clinical supervisor with a grudge (turns out arseholes don’t like people who are friends with people who call out their homophobic bullshit) who’s fucking the Degree Supervisor!!!!

Does this put my plans back 2 years? Yes.

Is it better than killing myself within the next 12 months? Fuck Yes!

I’m shaking, I’m so happy!

🥳🎉🥳🎉🥳🎉🥳🎉🥳🎉

[adieutristana]

Well, reader and Jinx matching rings (maybe even wedding rings), and when Caitlin shoots Jinx's finger, she destroys this ring. Jinx’s honest reaction?

of course! thank you for the request <3

i decided to make them promise rings since she lost her middle finger. i hope that’s alright!

summary; jinx’s promise ring being destroyed, and fem!reader comforting her after the fact.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of war/combat, mentions of poor mental health, medical talk ig? (patching up), s2 spoilers

men dni.

you’re sat in jinx’s hideout watching her tinker away with… something. a new type of explosive she’s experimenting with, she says. something that only requires one hexcrystal instead of two or three, since she can’t keep using so many. she’s unceremoniously hunched over the workbench, goggles over her eyes as she messes with the piece of scrap metal in her hand.

“having fun?”

you ask, sitting back in the chair she got you.

“mm… this is more difficult than i thought it would be. who knew this could be so challenging? but i like a challenge.”

she smirks to herself, not taking her eyes off of her project.

“well, you’ve never let ‘difficult’ stop you. you’re a right genius.”

“oh, stop. you’re biased!”

she teases, but she’s got the lightest rouge dusting her cheeks. got her. your gaze continues to follow your girlfriend, the way she moves so freely and carelessly. getting her face impossibly close to power tools, using her nails to clean up dirt, teeth capturing her bottom lip when she’s particularly stumped.

“alright! that’s enough for right now.”

she proclaims, standing up and placing her hands on her hips.

“already?” it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes since you asked her how she was doing.

“yeah! besides, i’ve got something for ‘ya.”

jinx springs up from her seat and skitters over to yours, quickly turning it around. you hear cheerful humming from behind you as she shuffles through piles of belongings, clearly looking for something.

"a-ha!"

she spins you back around, both hands on your seat and quickly rises. she's got something clasped in her left hand, but won't reveal it, not yet.

"what's that?"

"you have to be patient, toots! i've got a speech prepared, don't distract me!"

a speech? jinx never gave speeches. was she breaking up with you? so many thoughts began swirling through your mind as your palms began to sweat, gripping the chair- and then jinx revealed what she was hiding. a wooden box. a... ring box?

"isn't it a little soon to be getting engaged, jinx?"

you chuckle dryly, looking up at your girlfriend. she playfully rolls her eyes, and shakes her head, blue bang swaying.

"yes it is, that's why we're not getting engaged."

she clears her throat.

"not yet."

she turns her attention back to the box, and she opens it. inside lays a thick silver ring, with a circular blue gem in the middle. it looked eerily similar to a hexcrystal- but carved into a gemstone. 'JINX' is shakily engraved on the inside, something she undoubtedly did herself.

"this is a promise ring. i've been working on it for a while, and well... it's kind of stupid." she looks off to the side, sheepishly. "but this is me promising myself to you. to show you that i'm serious about this, ya know?"

you look over the ring for a moment, taking it in for all that it is. it's obviously unprofessional, the metal is a bit dull, and the shape isn't precise. but god dammit if it isn't the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. you glance back to your girlfriend, noticing her observing you- likely for any signs of disapproval. poor girl. as much as jinx had improved since meeting you, she still had the habit of expecting the worst. you didn't think that part would ever go away.

"jinx, it's beautiful. i- you made this?"

you ask, your eyes flickering back to the ring she's holding out. noticing how her grip is becoming a bit less stable.

"with my own two hands."

you chuckle, giving her a little grin.

"well? come on, put it on."

jinx doesn't need to be told twice. she gently takes hold of your left hand, removing the ring from the box and slowly slipping it onto your finger.

"there! it's on your middle finger, so your ring finger is open for the real thing."

not an ‘i do,’ but an ‘i will.’

you hold your hand up to the light, admiring how the ring catches it, before leaning forward to press a flurry of kisses to jinx's face.

"ah- hey! stop, you goof!"

she laughs, arms coming to wrap around you as a fit of giggles erupts from her.

"nope! i get to do this!"

it's not a week later when you arrive to jinx's hideout with a promise ring of your own to give her. a thick gold band to contrast the silver jinx had given you, with a rose quartz to accompany your own hexcrystal. pink and blue… she had a theme going, didn't she?

it wasn't handmade, but held the same sentimental value. you weren't as handy as jinx, and you'd learned to accept that a while ago. you had strengths in other areas, one of them being finding perfect gifts. it didn't take you long to find a jeweler in piltover who had exactly what you needed.

"oh, my god- you didn't have to do this."

she gasps, rosy eyes blown wide. both hands are on her cheeks as jinx gently approaches the open box in your hand.

"you promised yourself to me, didn't you? this is my promise to you."

jinx lets you put the ring onto her own left middle finger, her eyes never leaving your face. watching you so intently, she can feel her heart fluttering in her chest. what did she do to deserve you exactly? she could never quite figure it out, but that doesn't matter right now. you glance back up at her, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"i… you're too good to me, toots. really."

"i am not. i love you, remember?"

"mm… i love you too. i still think you're too good to me, though."

you let out a low chuckle.

"c'mere."

you bring the girl into your arms, tilting her chin with your index finger to gently bring her closer to you. pressing your lips to hers in a slow, gentle kiss.

oh- and of course, your name is engraved on the inside of the ring.

✧.*

you're posted at your girlfriend's hideout, going over notes in preparation for an exam. it's nerve wracking, sure, but the odd tranquility of jinx's desk is useful in its own way.

jinx swings open the door to the hideout, and as soon as she steps onto the panel of the wind turbine supporting her hideout, you can tell she's in hysterics.

the girl is wailing. she's pacing back and forth, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. but most importantly, her hand is gushing blood. you immediately drop your notes, papers scattering across the desk to rush over to your girlfriend.

"jinx? jinx?! what the hell happened, oh my god..."

you kneel down in front of jinx, taking her hand to examine it. her middle left finger is completely gone, blood rushing out from the wound. it seems to be a clean cut, at least, you won't have to deal with any extra bits to clean up.

"the ring, the ring, it's gone-"

she sobs, a hiccup following and her free hand clenching into a fist at her side. you gasp, looking up at jinx, then back down at her finger.

"jinx, seriously? you just lost your finger and you're worried about a damn ring?!"

you breathe out, exasperation and worry weighing heavy on your voice.

"the ring is important! it's- it's our promise!"

she cries, hanging her head low. jinx is so ashamed, it hurts your heart to see. you let go of her hand and frantically sweep along her workbench for anything. you knew you had a first aid kit somewhere, you'd gotten it after seeing jinx patch herself up in a way that would make any doctor shiver. but god damn it, where was it?

there.

you quickly swipe the kit and a bottle of peroxide from her workbench, rushing back over to jinx. you take one of her wrists and quickly guide her over to her beaten-up couch.

"sit."

"but-"

"sit."

jinx huffs and sits down on the couch, you sitting down beside her. you open the kit and bottle, pouring peroxide onto a cotton square and taking her hand into your lap.

"this is going to sting. a lot."

jinx winces at just the thought, but nods slowly. keeping her eyes on what you're doing-

"agh- fuck!"

she yelps, tossing her head back as you press the square to the wound, holding it there to both disinfect and stop the bleeding.

"i'm sorry, baby, it'll be over soon. i just need to stop the bleeding."

you coo, trying to do anything in your power to calm her down. yet it's obvious the injury itself isn't what she's upset about.

"that- that fucker vi is with shot it off, she shot the ring off..."

jinx seethes through gritted teeth, trying to keep her composure as you hold the peroxide to her wound. ah.. that makes sense. caitlyn was never fond of jinx, especially after the stunt she pulled with the council room. part of you was simply grateful that she didn't just take jinx out, as much as you knew she was probably trying to.

jinx was always putting herself in so much danger, both for the sake of necessity and the fact her ego was just so damn inflated. she said it herself- she just can't seem to die. but she got impossibly close way more than you would've liked her to.

you take out a roll of gauze and begin to wrap it around her hand, the wound being in the center of it all. it's far from professional, but this will have to do until you can get her proper medical attention. which you were trying to avoid talking about, since jinx was the last person to ever admit she needed help.

"jinx, i'm just happy that you're alive. i don't care about the ring right now. what if she had shot you somewhere more... vital?"

"then i would've gotten to keep the ring."

god damn it. she could not be serious right now. you finish wrapping her hand, bleeding having come to a halt and wound disinfected. you'd grab some painkillers in a moment. you quickly take both of her cheeks in your hands, forcing her to look you directly in the eye. the cold metal of your own ring against soft skin.

"jinx. again, i'm happy that you're here, and you're alive, and losing your finger was the worst thing that happened. i will get you a new ring, first thing tomorrow. okay?"

she sighs, her lips coming into a slight pout. at the very least, she's not crying anymore.

"but..."

you press your index finger to her lips, shushing her.

"no. just because you don't have the ring anymore doesn't mean the promise went out the window, okay?" you whisper, brushing your lips against her forehead. "i still love you, and still have promised myself to you. that won't change.

jinx closes her eyes, and leans into your kiss. she seems to have finally resigned, and is snaking her arms around your waist.

"i just- i love you so much..."

"i know, baby. i love you too, which is why i'll get you a new ring. a better one, even."

your hand still cupping her face, you lean in to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

"just stay here, with me. you've had a hell of a day."

[ganondoodle]

( OC, Eadrya, they/them, water demon )

"Oh don't look at me like that, is this the first time you've drawn blood or what? do it again! had a nice sting to it-" (Eadrya to Shargon, likely the first time Shargon's ever dared to fight them instead of fleeing immediately like his life depended on it ... bc it did)

finally gave Eadrya their deserved post character arc design (instead of doing what i should be)

since i know my handwriting isnt always readable, heres a short an overly long explanation of the context (oops)

(recap, the demon world was invaded and is believed to be destroyed, Eadrya lost a fight for the first time in their life to a celestial and survived by sheer luck and kindness of a little fishing village in the human realm, which kind of broke their pride and kickstarted their arc- (here i drew the lady in charge of the village before, though Eadryas design here is also a little out of date again ..)

-skipping alot in between that and the end of their arc bc that would jsut be too long for this post)

Eadrya helped other Lords and Shargon (with Midas and Idri) escape from a trap set by hunters but was captured themself, since it was the first time hunters managed to catch a Lord they 'researched' alot about demons using them .. by torturing them (demons are not considered sentient by people at large)

they managed to escape but were hunted down immediately, even Eadrya with their immense magic overproduction and abillity to recover was too drained (both literally of their strength -since the most effective way to hurt/immobilize a demon is draining them of their magic/blood faster than they can recover it- AND mentally) to easily avoid them and instead turned to killing, making them relapse into their old bloodthirst which lead to them spiraling into thinking that it is all they are ever good for and they will never be able to change-

Thor (with Idri) were on their way to free them after being informed of Eadryas capture ( Thor is Eadryas best and only friend ) but when they arrived it had already escalated so far that they went after killing Thor as well, now firmly believing Thor was never their friend but was simply trying to tame them out of fear of their power (not completely wrong ..). despite Thor with his two hearts being able to give Eadrya a second chance they decide to go for killing him twice, unintentionally missing the second time but doing enough damage for Thor to .. essentially fall into a near death condition; thinking they actually killed him everything starts to fall apart further as they realize over time they have changed after all but it is too late now-

Eadrya then flees into a snowy mountain range far away and lives there in complete isolation for several months (as a sort of .. self punishment and convinced of that being the best choice for everyone, they are a danger, they have no one left anyway etc trying to cope with it all) and thus grows out their fur (yes they always had fur, just short and slick like a seals fur) which they keep even after reuniting with Thor and everyone else later down the line

(the golden rope they wear in the picture was made by Thor during the time he was recovering and searching for them with the solar pirates (long story..), its not a good quality but he tried his best ... the two beads on it symbolize Thors two hearts (thunder and fire, blue and red)- Eadrya treasures it dearly)

so funnily enough, despite looking much wilder now they are actually much better in their self control and general health :P

[zorostitties]

Aurora, 3 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 6k

A/N: Happy one week anniversary to this fic!!! Three chapters in seven days??? I don't write this much or this fast since I was like 15. Oh God. Hyperfixation go BOOM Thank you everybody that left comments last chapter!! Reading them makes my day!! Without further ado, let's hear Alucards thoughts. Enjoy! <3

⤕  Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

The fast passage of time never failed to surprise Alucard.

The way the pages of his favorite books would get yellowed and frail without him noticing. How stone pavement would get slippery, worn out, after years of feet walking on it. How quickly a small village with only a few families could turn into a city bubbling with thousands of lives. How a small seedling would turn into a tall apple tree laden with fruit before he could take notice of it. The way fashion changed rapidly; how his clothes would get outdated and he’d be forced to acquire new ones in order to fit better into society.

How fast humans aged.

He didn’t like to ponder too much into it. Not anymore. It always made old scars ache again. However, as he looked at Juste Belmont, he couldn’t stop himself.

A part of his brain still expected to see a skinny and clumsy boy when Richter mentioned Juste. After all, that was his last memory of the Belmont, although he knew it was impossible. And yet… when Alucard laid eyes on the man, he couldn’t help but be shocked. He knew he’d see an adult, yes… not an elderly man with white hair, beard and deep wrinkles, a man that looked older than him (even though he was in much better form than the average human his age).

How many years had it been since Alucard last saw Juste...? It was around the time his grandfather passed, if he wasn’t mistaken. Was it around 50 years ago, perhaps?

Hell. Only 50 years had passed, and Juste already looked like a raisin.

Half of him knew that was part of the beauty of human existence: its fleetingness. Every human had a clear and direct story: beginning, middle, end. Their will to build, transform, adapt, improve and sometimes destroy, despite the little time they had on Earth. That was why human society changed so much in all those years. They had limited time: they were in a hurry to do everything they could with what they got – and that’s why Alucard admired mankind so much. Despite their immortality, vampires didn’t seem as willing to make significant changes, always choosing complacency or destruction instead.

The other half of him – the half where his deepest scars where hidden – hated this fact about humans. Even felt bitter of them, although he wouldn’t admit it out loud. Humans came and went before he could notice. They marked his life and left him alone before he could even prepare himself.

Alucard inherited the human heart that an immortal shouldn’t have. That was one of the small curses he carried for being who he was.

“Why don’t I come to Paris with you?” Juste argued with Richter, which honestly humored Alucard a bit. The younger man was acting as the adult, coming with up with rational reasons, while the elder was eager to join the fight with them. There it was… humans’ will to do something despite everything.

The white-haired vampire watched the scene in silence, sitting on a tree trunk with Annette by his side. The morning fog over the lake and around the clearing made him keep his guard up despite his relaxed demeanor, as it could hide spies easily; in fact, he was almost sure there was someone out there, but he couldn’t tell exactly where. The smell of burnt wood, ashes and vampire corpses was disorienting.

“Are all Belmonts like this?” Annette wondered out loud with a quirked eyebrow.

“Irritating? Oh, yes.” Alucard knew that it was a genetic trait inherited by every Belmont (other than their clear blue eyes). “To be honest, it’s been years since I’ve had much to do with them.” He admitted. Even so, it seemed that things hadn’t changed much in this aspect. “But if I can’t stop Erzsebet, I’ll need a Belmont to finish the job. Or a revolutionary witch, of course.” Annette opened a small, bashful smile at his last sentence.

Richter started to list reasons to why Juste should stay in Machecoul – he owed it to Maria’s mother, he didn’t care if Juste wasn’t great with teenage girls, all the usual Belmont family drama. Well, something else that time hadn’t changed. Alucard almost had a deja vu, as it wasn’t the first time he witnessed a scene like that.

So he decided to lay his attention elsewhere.

Ruby was standing at a good distance from the rest of the group; she had a focused – slightly annoyed, even – expression on her face as she analyzed the pairs of boots in front of her. She had taken them herself from the corpses before the three men collected the deceased vampires to throw them at the fire burning in the Belmont’s now ruined cottage.

She took a boot and placed it next to her barefoot feet, measuring it. Apparently, it was too big. She sighed and did the same with the next pair.

Alucard had been paying much attention to her. He’s one to always focus on the task at hand – said task meant to stop the impending doom hovering over mankind on Europe – however, from the moment he entered her room through her window, things took a different turn. Got more complicated.

The white-haired vampire knew she wasn’t lying. After you live that long, you learn how to pick up the mannerisms of deceit, especially in humans. They blush, blink, avoid your gaze, stutter, their voice gets higher. It takes a lot of practice to get rid of these involuntary quirks. From the moment they first met, Ruby seemed absolutely honest in her fright; in fact, it was as if she couldn’t lie even if she wanted to. As if… she was trained to never lie.

However, it wasn’t enough to make Alucard less suspicious of her. Too much was at stake to let himself be carried away by her story. He knew he was too old to get fooled, but he also knew to never say never – thus why he kept his attention on her, even if he didn’t show it.

He was trying to understand her. Get a glimpse of what was really going on.

Ruby kept silent during most of the way to Juste’s cottage – and that was a lot, given they walked the entire night. She barely made questions. She didn’t ask to rest, to get some water, didn’t complain about her tight shoe (Alucard could feel the faint smell of blood coming from the scratch on her heel). She kept her head low most of the time. Well… she did promise that they wouldn’t even notice she was there, but Alucard didn’t think she was so serious about it.

It made him feel bad for her, to be honest. He could tell it was another thing she was trained to do.

Three moments of their long walk towards Juste’s location caught his attention the most.

The first was during one of their few stops, when Ruby stood apart of the group and stared at the sky for quite some time, in complete silence. She had a focused expression he hadn’t seen her show yet; one that didn’t somehow look pained. The second was when she caught glimpse of a squirrel – the tiny animal ran up a tree so fast that Richter and Annette didn’t notice it – and gasped, her eyes widened, as if she’d never seen a squirrel before. When the two asked what happened, Ruby brushed it off in embarrassment.

The third moment was while Annette explained what they were going to retrieve in Paris – Sekhmet’s mummy which contained half of her soul. And… Ruby didn’t react.

Alucard remembered that both Richter and Annette got confused at what a mummy is. Ruby didn’t. As if she already knew what it was.

That put a question mark in his head.

Alucard wanted to trust her. She seemed genuine. He got really worried about her at the forest, when she learned about Drolta’s death; there was no way she could lie about that. But… how could he trust someone whose own mind was untrustworthy?

Ruby measured her feet with another worn out leather boot, knee-high and with a very short heel. This time, it seemed to match. She put on the pair. Tip-toed, turned her ankles around, took some steps. Finally, she opened a tiny satisfied smile and sighed in relief. “This will do,” she muttered to herself.

Alucard narrowed his eyes slightly.

There was a time – a long time ago –, when he was young, Alucard would trust her in a heartbeat. He wouldn’t even question her. He’d let himself be carried by his inexperience, his naivety… and his inherent taste for beautiful, delicate things. Because yes, Ruby was beautiful like a flower. She reminded him of a weeping begonia – graceful, colorful, yet with a certain melancholy to it. He’d offer help, cook for her, give her a shelter. He’d even offer himself to carry her on his back the entire way due to her hurt heel.

But Alucard wasn’t naive anymore, and there was too much at stake to have faith in her like that.

Of course, one could argue that if that’s the case, then he shouldn’t trust Richter and Annette as well, given he barely knew both. But Richter was a Belmont – and like all Belmonts, he carried his heart on his sleeve; Richter was incapable of deceit. Annette was mature, much more than someone her age should be, due to her past; Alucard could recognize someone with a strong sense of justice and pride like her. There was nothing complicated about them. Ruby was complicated. Ruby meant mystery in a situation that demanded clarity.

Ruby was their upper hand against Erzsebet, but she was also a problem.

“Annette,” the white-haired vampire called quietly. The girl looked at him immediately, understanding his quiet and serious tone. “I’d like to ask you a favor.” She nodded. “Try to… stay close to Ruby. She might feel more comfortable to talk with another woman.”

Annette narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. It might’ve sounded that he was just caring for Ruby, but the suspicion in his expression told her otherwise.

“Do you think she’s lying?” she asked in the same quiet voice.

“No,” Alucard said. “But she doesn’t remember anything from her past, so it doesn’t mean much. Perhaps… the real Ruby hidden in her memories might not be who she seems to be.”

Annette appeared hesitant – Alucard knew she had sympathy for Ruby – but nodded anyway.

The white-haired vampire sighed, tired of hearing the Belmonts talk, and got up.

“Richter. We need to go.” He was about to call Ruby as well, but she was already running towards them.

“Did you find one that fits?” Annette asked as she also got up. Ruby nodded.

“Yes. It doesn’t even smell bad, either.” She appeared so content with something so simple. Annette sent her a small smile before frowning and crossing her arms.

“What happens if we get to Paris and the mummy doesn’t hold any power, it’s just some old corpse that was stolen hundreds of years ago?” Annette wondered – but Alucard didn’t really pay attention to it.

Richter hugged Juste. Ruby watched it in silence – and the faint happiness she held seconds ago for finding good boots immediately faded away, being replaced by… longing. It was like watching a flower wither in front of his eyes.

A weeping begonia, indeed.

It was another one of those moments when Alucard wished he didn’t have his human heart. One of the few things that the fast passage of time hadn’t been able to change.

“Then at least it’s no use to Erzsebet, either,” he answered Annette’s question and turned around, not waiting for anyone to follow him.

When the great flowing river appeared, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of excitement.

Rivers and lakes kept frozen most of the time in Erzsebet’s country. It amounted to your pile of new experiences. In 24 hours, you’d already seen and done much more than during your time in imprisonment.

You tried not to gasp. This river was much larger than the one you’d seen a few hours ago, during one of the stops you’d made to drink water. The sound of the serene current was hypnotizing; it reflected sunlight beautifully, its surface shimmering with the glow of a million diamonds. A bit of fog still hovered over the nearby trees of the river bank.

“The river will take us much of the way from here,” Alucard explained. Since leaving Juste’s clearing, he had taken the lead and resumed himself to not talking much. Richter and Annette were carrying all of the conversations, to be honest, as you decided to also keep quiet.

Since you left the ruins at Machecoul, you noticed that Alucard was a bit… aloof. Or at least, he decided to act this way due the current situation – and you could understand that. The half-vampire wasn’t being rude, and never once did he appear annoyed anytime Richter and Annette made questions; in fact, he was more than eager to debate their plans or to explain how his hunt for Sekhmet’s mummy went over the years. And at the same time… his expression stayed nonchalant all throughout the way.

Well. You couldn’t expect anything less from a man that stayed extremely calm as he invaded Erzsebet’s chateau.

Nevertheless, it made you feel a bit… weird. You didn’t want to say lonely, but that’s more or less how you felt. Alucard was the one to talk to you at the forest after all, and Richter and Annette… they seemed too enthralled in each other, so you didn’t want to interrupt. You didn’t have the courage to initiate a conversation with Alucard either, scared to bother him. So to you, the entire travel had been a long, weird silence.

There was also the fact that you were in panic of attracting any attention to yourself. They must be extremely confident to walk around at night, you thought; how many vampires could be lurking under the moonlight, between the shadows? As much as the sights amazed you – heavens, you even saw a squirrel! –, you couldn’t help but also shiver whenever one of them stepped on twig.

“We won’t be stopping, so if you need provisions, get them now,” Alucard continued. “Keep out of sight. For sure, we’re being followed.” There it was. Just as you were thinking of vampires lurking, he confirmed your fears. And yet, instead of taking a fight stance or getting tense, he just furrowed his eyebrows and completed in an annoyed tone: “I’m always being bloody followed.”

Richter looked back. Then, you saw as his chest bubbled with excitement.

“Are you going to turn the tables on them, surprise them and then take them out with your flying-sword-thing?!” he asked on the same beat, not taking a second to breathe, his blue eyes shining with anticipation.

Alucard stared at him an embarrassingly second longer than normal.

“...I’m going to find a boat.”

And walked away.

Annette covered her mouth to muffle her laughter. Richter’s face got redder than a tomato. You looked down, unable to hide your chuckle as well. He seemed… very impressed by Alucard, you noticed. Once again, excited like a child. It was cute – and you got surprised at yourself, because you didn’t remember thinking anything was cute before.

Richter recovered from the embarrassment in a second. “I’ll hunt, you gather,” he said, pointing with his thumb. “I mean… you could hunt, too.”

Annette giggled once again. “I’ll find some mushrooms.”

They started to walk into the woods while talking about mushroom types.

For a second, you stood in place like a scared cat. Should you follow Alucard? Would that annoy him? Should you follow the other two? Would you annoy them? Didn’t they said you’d have to keep under watch at all times? But what if you became a burden? What if–

“Why aren’t you coming, Ruby?”

You jumped.

Annette and Richter stopped walking to look back at you. The girl had a little smile on her lips. “Do you like mushrooms?”

Oh. Right.

You ran to reach them. “I do,” you said awkwardly. The only good thing about living under Erzsebet’s enclosure was that you were, in fact, well-fed. It wasn’t always like that… but after you became obedient, you were served good food – and creamy mushroom soup was one of the dishes you liked.

“Let’s just hope that Alucard likes it, too,” Richter pondered, holding his chin. “If he even eats at all.”

“Of course he eats. Why wouldn’t he?” Annette raised one eyebrow.

Richter shrugged. “Well, I’m not an expert in half-vampire anatomy to understand his physiological needs.”

You clasped your hands behind your back, taking courage to speak up. “Is he… always like that?” You knew Alucard must’ve been far by that point, yet you still lowered your voice, as if afraid that he might hear it.

You didn’t even need to explain what “like that” meant. Annette pursed her lips. “I can’t tell. To be honest, we know him as long as you do.” That took you by surprise; you mean that Alucard trusted Richter and Annette without even knowing them?! The girl in yellow smirked and sent a teasing look towards Richter. “I mean, I didn’t know him; Richter right here knows everything about Alucard.”

“Hey– it’s not like that,” the boy blushed yet again and scratched the back of his neck. It seemed to be a quirk of his whenever he felt embarrassed. “It’s just that my family knows him for a long time, okay? I’ve… always heard stories about Alucard.”

“And is he what you were expecting?” Annette asked. Richter hummed, taking a second to answer.

“...Not exactly.” He crossed his arms. “I always imagined he’d look older. I mean, if you heard the stories they told me when I was a kid, you’d expect to meet a giant, like five meters tall.” Annette chuckled.

“Why does your family know him?” you asked Richter. He sighed.

“The Belmonts… we’re a long lineage of vampire hunters. Hundreds of years ago, my ancestors helped him defeat Dracula.”

Hundreds of years ago? So Alucard was that old? You shouldn’t be surprised as you knew that vampires didn’t age, keeping the same appearance they had when they were turned. Yet, since Alucard was only half vampire, you thought that he actually was the age he looked to be...

Annette narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think she knows who Dracula is. I didn’t know.”

“Riiight.” Richter nodded awkwardly. “Well, Dracula was considered by many the Vampire King for a long time. He was extremely powerful. And he almost wiped out life on Earth. Lovely guy,” Richter shrugged. “There’s also the detail that he was Alucard’s father.”

You widened you eyes. That meant that… Alucard had to kill his own father?!

“Does that make him the Vampire Prince?” Annette wondered, not appearing to care about what the blue eyed boy just stated at all.

“That’s one of his titles in the legends, though I don’t think he likes it,” Richter crossed his arms. “Well, he does look like a prince.”

The girl opened the most playful, devious grin you’ve ever seen – in fact, that was the most emotion you’ve seen her show up until now. Annette was somewhat serious and her reactions were very contained, so you were a bit surprised by that. It seemed that only Richter could evoke these reactions from her…

“Oh, God. Are you going to ask his hand in marriage? When you do, tell us previously, so we can leave the room,” she playfully elbowed his ribs.

“Wait– That’s not– What I meant is–“ Richter stumbled over his words, his cheeks redder than ever – and this time you couldn’t help but giggle with Annette, covering your mouth. It also seemed that only Annette could get Richter flustered like that…

“Alright, lover boy. This seems like a good place,” she stopped walking, pointing to her right side. “Let’s see if we can find some good ones. Take care to not get hurt by your dangerous rabbits,” she sent him one last playful look.

Still blushing, Richter smiled, shook his head and kept walking ahead.

Her eyes lingered on his figure. For a second, you wondered if she forgot you were even there.

Finally, she looked at you. “Shall we?”

You nodded, following her into the woods.

And… back to silence.

Awkward silence.

You didn’t really know how to start conversations. You didn’t even know if you should. That might annoy her, you thought. I’m not her friend like Richter. It’s better if I just keep silent to not attract unwanted attention.

With the corner of your eye, you observed Annette.

Richter commented that Alucard looked like a prince - and talking about royalty… you also thought that Annette looked like a princess. Her features were delicate; she was soft spoken, polite and intelligent. Her round brown eyes reminded you of kindness and warmth, although you could see they were clouded with some sadness and distress. The way she matched her yellow vest with the golden hair rings and earrings reminded you of a sunflower. Earrings… looking at them made you feel the ghost of a familiar pain. Whenever they dressed you up for Erzsebet’s night balls, they’d have to pierce your ears to put earrings on them. Every single time. And the skin would constantly try to heal around the earring, making them itch uncontrollably until you’d finally rip them off–

“Oh! Looks like we found some,” Annette cut your line of thoughts before they could spiral. “Well, that was fast…”

She pointed towards the ground nearby. There was a tree with a couple of mushrooms growing near the roots. Annette took a small wooden bowl from the shoulder bag she carried across her chest and knelt down in front of the tree.

You narrowed your eyes as you got closer to the tree…

“These aren’t edible.” You blurted out.

Annette looked back at you.

You stepped closer, shyly pointing towards the mushrooms.

“They’re… too white. The gills. Poisonous,” each word that came out of your mouth made you frown more.

The girl in yellow looked down at the mushrooms, softly pushing them with her fingertips to see under the cap better. Then, she looked back at you.

“You’re right,” she got up, watching you in silence.

You looked back at her in silence, too.

Silence.

“I didn’t know I knew that,” you admitted in a whisper.

Annette cracked a small smile. “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

“Why?”

“You remembered something.”

You remembered…?

You were sure of one thing – never once in your life have you ever went mushroom picking under Erzsebet’s imprisonment. Your memory could be a mess, but of that you were sure. So why would you know how to spot a poisonous mushroom?

Was that… was that really a memory?

“You look very shocked,” Annette pointed out. You realized she was already some steps ahead of you looking for another tree. You ran to reach her.

“I… well, I… do you think this could be a memory?” You didn’t like how high pitched your voice sounded.

“Of course it’s a memory. What is knowledge if not a collection of memories?” she said softly.

You felt excitement bubbling within your chest, making your heartbeat increase and you grab the fabric of the skirt.

“Then I think I had another memory past night.” This caught Annette’s attention. “I… I saw a squirrel.” She quirked one eyebrow up, confused. “See, back in Erzsebet’s castle, I was always locked up. And it’s a cold place, there’s always too much snow. Even if I’d go out, I don’t think I’d ever see a squirrel.” You looked up at her, eyes gleaming with excitement. “B-But I saw a squirrel yesterday and I knew what it was, you see? It’s the same situation, isn’t it? A… a knowledge?”

Annette chuckled, but you saw in her eyes – they were very honest – that she didn’t find the situation funny at all. It was… maybe similar to what you saw in Alucard’s eyes past afternoon. It had sympathy and, again, a hint of sadness.

Oh… you let it slip the part about being locked up in a castle.

She was probably feeling bad about you.

“It might be,” she spoke, once again, in that soft tone. “Perhaps those things are common to you, and now you’re beginning to remember.”

Right.

Right, right, right. She was right. Your heartbeat kept up its fast pace as a million ideas flooded your mind. This was the first time you weren’t being mistreated and tortured. When you weren’t being tortured, you were under the constant anxiety of when it was going to happen next. That’s why you slept so much. This was the first time you refused to sleep in order to take in everything happening around you, even the smallest things. What if it was somehow healing your mind?

What if you used to live in a place with mushrooms and squirrels? What if it was a cottage like Juste’s, near a clearing? What if it had trees all around? What if… what if you had relatives that would hug you like Juste and Richter? What if they taught you the difference between an edible and a poisonous mushroom? What if you had parents?

What name did your parents give you?

What was your name? Your actual name, and not this mockery Erzsebet named you that night?

Ruby. That beautiful necklace, bejeweled with diamonds and a big ruby stone that you hated so much. It seemed to burn your skin, seemed to weight tons. But yes, it had the same color of your blood; the necklace got soaked with it whenever Erzebet’s fangs sank in your throat, it’d soak the collar of your dresses, it’d paint your body in that color, it’d paint the Vampire Messiah’s lips–

You gasped and flinched away when you felt a hand on your arm.

Annette looked at you with worry.

“I’m sorry. I called you a few times but you didn’t listen…”

You gulped, putting your hand over your chest and feeling your heart thundering nonstop. The way she was looking at you…

It happened again… just like yesterday, with Alucard…

You hated how your hands were shaking. You hated that you could feel your vision get blurred. You hated all of it, and you hated how a simple thought could make you drift back to her.

You also hated that this thing happened, yet again, with someone to witness. Heavens… you didn’t want to appear weak. These people already had enough problems; all you had to do was not bring them more trouble, to be as unnoticeable as possible, but how could they not notice you if you kept embarrassing yourself like that over and over again?

“My apologies.” You managed to speak somehow. “I’m fine.”

Annette pressed her lips together. Oh, you hated a bit how genuine her eyes were… she couldn’t hide any emotion at all. She felt bad for you. She was worried. You didn’t want to worry anyone.

The girl let out a deep sigh. She held the wooden bowl with both hands, pressing it close to her abdomen, and looked down. For the first time, you noticed the symbol burned on the skin of her right hand… it looked like a flower. Was she branded…?

“I… understand how you feel,” Annette started in a quiet voice. The way she somehow sounded fragile took you off guard; it was the first time you’d seen her like that. “I really do. Those people… they keep haunting you. On your sleep, or even when you’re awake…”

Wind swayed the trees above, played with Annette’s hair, made the golden rings around her locs tinkle softly. In that moment, she looked very young… no. She was very young. Yet, it was the first time you noticed it. She always kept a certain posture, a certain way of speech, that didn’t let this fact be noticed easily. Her fragility almost made her look child-like.

Oh…

The sadness in her eyes… it didn’t have much to do with you. Your state just reminded her of something painful.

“I am not saying that it’s easy to get over it. I still struggle myself,” she admitted quietly, as if she wasn’t proud of it. “And I am not saying that you should be embarrassed to feel this way. It’s… natural.”

Finally, she lifted her head, looking at you once again.

“I don’t know exactly what you went through. But what I can say is that… to be truly freed is to not be afraid. Because when you’re not afraid anymore, they can never hurt you again, even in your mind.” She opened a small, dimpled smile. “And when we defeat Erzsebet, justice will be done. You will be entirely free.”

Sunlight that breached through the leaves touched her face softly. Made her golden earrings glow; lightened her deep brown eyes, making them look caramel. The hint of sadness was still there, but they also shimmered with something else: hope. Courage.

You wondered what Annette must’ve been through; you weren’t brave enough to ask. You could see that life hadn’t been kind to her… her eyes didn’t lie. And even so, she was walking towards indescribable evil to fight against it, even though she had her own demons to face. She was taking her time to offer you encouraging words.

Annette was really like a sunflower; despite the darkness of the world, she chose to face the sun.

You didn’t even know what to reply.

“Thank you,” was all you managed to say now that your heart had fallen into a slower pace again. Luckily, Annette didn’t seem to expect you to elaborate. It’s like she knew you couldn’t.

She nodded and tapped the side of your arm. “We still have mushrooms to pick. And it’s better if you find them… I was about to poison us all, apparently,” she managed to jester, earning a chuckle from you.

When Annette came back, she had the weirdest expression on her face.

After you finished picking enough mushrooms, she went to look out for Richter. Although you were still uneasy, she declared that there was no danger nearby, so you could rest a little if you wanted – which you accepted to do, sitting under a tree for a while. It was nice being alone for some moments. You tried to hear your own mind; maybe it could whisper new memories…

However, Annette came back barely five minutes later with her eyes widened.

You got up immediately. “Did you find Richter? Is everything alright?”

The girl blinked several times. “Y-Yes, I found him. Everything’s alright.”

Annette… stuttering?

Then you noticed… she was blushing.

What…?

“We s-should reunite with Alucard,” she sounded a bit exasperated and rushed. “Richter’s still hunting, but I bet he–“

That’s when you heard the sound of the explosion.

The floor shook beneath your feet. The loud noise came from close by, followed by a loud grunt. Richter’s voice.

Your entire body got tense. Your eyes widened. Your breath hitched.

But, before you could say anything, Annette looked at something behind you and widened her eyes.

“Get down!”

She didn’t need to say it twice.

You dropped, covering your head with both hands, one second before a scrawny looking vampire could stab your temple with a knife.

The thing hissed – and for a second you got desperate thinking, Annette is going to die.

Only for one second, though.

It was the time it took her to kill him.

With a quick gesture of hers, the knife the vampire held melted into somewhat a formless pulp mid air and floated to her hand, where it was reshaped as a spear. With a groan of effort, Annette pierced through the vampire’s skull as if it was butter.

You looked at her in absolute shock.

“Nice reflexes!” She said. But you heard Richter’s voice again, the sound of flames whooshing in the wind, and other unknown voices; the sounds of a fight. “Let’s go!”

She grabbed you by the wrist and ran.

Your most primitive instincts wanted to run in the opposite direction; hell, you’d barely recovered from whatever just happened a second ago. Your worst fears became true; there were vampires deep within the forest, hiding in the shadows even during the day. And you were alone in the woods… if Annette had taken a minute longer, you’d have been knocked out. Maybe that vampire would’ve taken you and ran back to Erzsebet’s entourage. Was Alucard nearby? Did he heard the fight? Was he coming to help you three–?

All your thoughts disappeared.

Richter was fighting two vampires at the same time with his bare hands. You watched, in shock, as he switched from fire to ice to lightning, covering his punches and kicks in blue elemental magic, not showing any sign of struggle at all.

He managed to knock two of them – but didn’t notice as a third short vampire was ready to shot him with a shotgun. Annette was faster. Once again, she controlled the metal of the bullet, disintegrating it before it could even touch Richter, and forced the projectiles to ricochet back at its shooter.

Richter looked at you and Annette.

“I would’ve dodged that,” he complained, pouting.

“Is ‘thank you’ so hard?” Annette retorted.

The blue eyed boy looked at you. “Stand behind us, yes?” As if he needed to say it. Another tall vampire wearing an armor sprinted at them as they took their offensive positions.

You were in such a deep shock that you couldn’t even be scared anymore.

They… they weren’t struggling. At all. They were just human beings, fighting against vampires and winning, winning with the help of magic. They predicted the vampires’ moves and broke their attacks like it was nothing. They were so overwhelmingly superior that the enemies barely even noticed you were there, too focused in trying to survive.

Now you understood why Alucard trusted them without even knowing them well.

They didn’t even need Alucard’s aid.

Annette fought against a tall and skinny vampire. She controlled the blades he used on his sleeves, preventing him to run away; she then reshaped his blades into a sharp spear. After exchanging a few blows, she launched the spear with a scream of effort – and hit bullseye. Quite literally. The spear pierced into the vampire’s eye through his skull, killing him immediately.

Richter had ran off after the last vampire, disappearing from your sights.

“Where’d he go?!” she asked in a rushed tone. You pointed towards the direction he sprinted on, unable to speak.

She didn’t need to ask you to follow her.

When you reached him, the situation seemed under control. Richter had retrieved his whip, and the short vampire was down on his knees.

Richter smirked confidently.

“I hope the vampires in Paris are better than this bunch of blood wankers,” he boasted in a cocky way…

But the vampire smirked as well.

With a puff of black smoke, he turned into a small bat.

“Richter!” Annette called. At the same time, another vampire appeared from within the shadows.

The blue eyed boy didn’t know which to chase – but the new enemy seemed faster and more dangerous. His whip got involved in blue fire; with a single whiplash, the vampire was killed.

But the bat had already disappeared.

“The little one’s escaped!” Annette groaned. It was the first time she looked even slightly annoyed at Richter. She had a breathless scowl in her face, her nose slightly crunched. “Great! Now they know where we are going!”

Richter was distressed. He looked around, his cheeks flushed either because of the physical effort or sheer embarrassment. “Let’s– Let’s look around for him, he mustn’t be far!”

“A tiny bat flew away between the trees, Richter. We won’t find it.” The girl put her hands on each side of her waist.

They started arguing on what they should do next. You didn’t have it in you to interrupt.

Now that adrenaline was slowly fading away, you felt… pretty useless. All you could do was stand there like a frozen statue while these two fought like beasts. At least you didn’t disturb them or made the situation more difficult.

The bigger part of your brain was still frightened. A tiny part of it was… a little excited.

“I suppose we should tell Alucard,” Richter admitted defeat after apologizing over a hundred times, shoulders dropped and a flushed pout on his lips. Annette sighed.

“Let’s not. It probably won’t matter.” Maybe she had a point… these vampires didn’t look like Erzsebet’s servants. No cloaks, no moon symbol on their foreheads. She crossed her arms. “And I don’t want to give him another excuse for that ‘oh, you children’ look he does.”

You wanted to disagree, but you didn’t feel that you had the right… not after what you saw them do.

And… you couldn’t judge them for hiding something.

You were hiding something, too. Something you didn’t want to talk about – at least, not yet.

Three memories of yours awakened that day.

You knew what a squirrel was. You knew what poisonous and edible mushrooms were.

And...

I don’t think she knows who Dracula is, Annette said back then.

She was wrong.

You did.

[girlgenius1111]

echoes of her

fluff x angst. implied sexual content? 18+ anyway. warnings: mention of unhealthy past relationship.

alexia and r are out, r sees alexia with another girl, who happens to be r's ex. r acts up, until alexia drags her home, prepared to punish her for being a brat. before she does, r breaks down, tells alexia what was really going on.

You did a double take when you noticed just who your girlfriend was speaking to at the bar. Your blood ran cold at the sight of her; your ex girlfriend. How, why, was she here?

She was, truly, an awful person. Incomparably so. Your time with her had been awful for you, completely destroying your mental health. Despite this, Alexia hardly knew anything about the other woman. She knew there was someone before her, when you were still living in London, and that it hadn't ended well. You'd kept that ugly part of you locked away from your girlfriend. Partly because you didn't feel like bothering her with something that was so very done, but also because you didn't want her to see how shattered that girl had left you.

Alexia had walked away to get another drink for you a few minutes ago. It was taking longer than you expected, so you turned away from the conversation you were having with Mapi, and looked around for the blonde head of hair you were so familiar with. There she was, stood at the bar, making conversation with another blonde you were rather familiar with. What this woman was doing in Spain was beyond you; for a moment, you wondered if you were being crazy; that couldn't be her.

Then she turned, catching your eye and sending you a smirk, and you knew this was no accident. Her, in this club, talking to your girlfriend. You felt like you were being torn in half; you felt like sprinting towards the nearest exit, away from the girl standing at the bar. At the same time, you wanted to run towards her, to pull Alexia away, to protect her. You were paralyzed, a million different thoughts running through your head as you caught Alexia's eye. Her smile fell, eyes squinting slightly as she caught the very panicked look on your face.

"Chica!" Mapi called, waving a hand in front of your face. This broke you out of your stare, and you jumped a little, turning towards your friend. Her and Patri were looking at you, concerned, having witnessed you go from relaxed to completely tense in just 10 seconds.

"Yeah?" You asked, clearing your throat, glancing back at where your girlfriend had been standing. She was on her way back to you, and you dug your nails into your leg. Alexia would come here, and everything would be fine.

"Are you okay?" Patri asked, resting a hand on your shoulder. You repressed a shudder at the contact. Everything was setting you off, everything suddenly too loud, too bright, too close.

"Yeah, yeah. Just got dizzy for second. I'm fine." You promised, putting on a smile that you hoped was convincing. Before either girl could question you further, an arm was wrapping around your abdomen, pulling you back into your girlfriend's body. You curled into her and she tightened her arms around you, rubbing her thumb up and down your stomach lightly.

"Bién?" Alexia softly whispered in your ear. "Are you feeling ill?" You weren't sure how Alexia could tell you felt nauseous, seeing as though the lights in the club were multicolored and dim. You turned to look at up at her, and caught your ex girlfriend, only a few feet away, clearly intending to come speak to you.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around Alexia's neck, pulling her down into a kiss that could only be described as one too filthy to be had in public. Alexia allowed it for a minute, pulling back when Mapi and Patri started making loud retching noises from next to her. She gave you a look, one that told you to behave, before turning to your friends and rolling her eyes at them.

"No seas dramática. As if I have not seen you both make out with girls in clubs until my eyes were burning."

Before they could respond, you raised a hand to Alexia's cheek, turning her head to look back at you. Your ex had stopped moving closer, but she was still watching, a frown set on her face. You needed her to stay away, stay far away. Alexia had been looking forward to this night out, though, and the only way she'd agree to leave early was if you gave her a convincing reason to. Of course, you could have just told her what was going on, but that didn't really feel like an option to you.

"Dance with me?" You asked Ale, a plan beginning to form in your head. Get Alexia turned on, get her to take you home. Get your ex to leave you alone, all at once.

Alexia got the familiar dreamy expression on her face that she got when you asked her for anything, and she nodded.

"Sí, if you want."

You took her hand, puling her towards the dance floor. Behind you, out of your line of sight, Mapi and Patri exchanged amused looks; never before had they seen their stubborn captain so easily agree to dance. She would do anything for you, though, as was evident.

Your and Alexia's dancing remained innocent for less than a minute, before you were turning your back to her, pressing your ass back into her, and grabbing her hands in yours. You trailed them all over your body, grinding backwards to the bass of the song. You didn't need to hear Alexia's hitch of breath to know how she was feeling about this.

You were pushing her, you knew. Alexia was possessive; she didn't like anyone to see you the way she did. This little performance you were putting on was drawing some attention; it was a gay bar, after all, and your tight outfit hugged you perfectly, your body swaying gracefully against Alexia's. She clenched her jaw tight, sure you were going for a reaction, and not quite wanting to give you one.

Her resolve broke, though, when she caught the blonde she was talking to earlier at the bar staring at you. It seemed to Alexia that you were looking right back at her.

"Vamos, mi zorrita." Alexia whispered lowly right into your ear, wrenching her hands out of yours, instead placing a possessive hand on your back, and leading you towards the exit. As she passed the woman who had been looking at you, she made eye contact, glaring hard. You were hers. She thought she felt you tense up as you passed by her, reaching back to lace your fingers with hers, but she didn't linger too long on it, already planning what she was going to do with you when you arrived home.

You passed by where your friends were gathered, ignoring their knowing smirks as Alexia practically dragged you out of the club. So close, you were so close to being safe, to Alexia being safe, far away from her.

-----

Alexia gave you the silent treatment in the car, knowing how crazy it drove you. You needed contact with her, though, anxiety still swirling inside of you. You couldn't ask for her hand right now, without explaining why yours was inexplicably shaking. Not now, when Alexia was preparing, deservedly, to punish you.

Instead, you let your hand rest on her thigh, letting your fingers rub small patterns in to the fabric of her tight leather pants. She scoffed at you, as if daring you to continue teasing her, but she still didn't say anything. It was fine, you were almost home. Alexia would make you feel good, replace every thought in your mind of her, with the feeling of your girlfriend all over you. It was fine.

-----

The minute you were through the door, Alexia had you pressed up against the wall of the entry way, barely taking time to shut the door behind her. You reached for her, but she grabbed your hands with hers, pressing them back into the wall.

"No no, you wanted to be una zorrita, I will treat you like one."

"Alexia-"

"Cállate." She growled, moving her lips to your neck, working marks into the skin. Her teeth nipped at your skin, and you shuddered at the feeling. You were turned on, obviously. How could you not be? Alexia was biting at kissing at you like she wanted to eat you alive, pressing up against the wall, clearly preparing to fuck the brattiness out of you.

You weren't in the right headspace for this, though. Your brain was already flashing to times with her times that had been fueled with rage, and a passionate hatred. Times that were definitely not healthy. Alexia needed to stop. Now. Your breathing was quickening, your hands were starting to shake, and you needed her off, off now.

"Stop. Red, Alexia, stop" you managed, taking your hands and physically pushing Alexia away. She was off of you in a heartbeat at your words, her hands raised in the air, swollen lips falling into a concerned frown.

"Okay, okay. Stop. We stop." She assured you, taking in the way your whole body seemed to vibrate with anxiety. She had mistaken your body's reaction as being one of arousal, when it had been one of panic. "Mi amor? Talk to me." She pleaded softly.

You reached a shaky hand out towards your girlfriend, and she took it instantly, latching on and squeezing tight. You were unsteady, mind in overdrive. All you knew was that Alexia was safe, and you needed safe. You tried to take a step towards the blonde, but you were shaking too hard, and your legs practically gave out from under you. Alexia caught you easily, carefully lowering you to the ground. She made a movement as if to give you space again, not wanting to overwhelm you with her touch.

That was the opposite of what you needed, though, the feeling of her hand in yours being the only thing keeping you somewhat grounded.

"Ale," you gasped out, clinging onto her shirt.

"Está bien, está bien, te tengo." Alexia promised, allowing you to scramble closer into her arms. "Shh, shh, you are okay, amor, todo está bien."

You were a pile of limbs on the ground, just in the entry way of the house, a shaking mess collapsed against your girlfriend. You pressed your face closer into her neck, her loose blonde hair tickling your skin lightly. You couldn't get close enough to Alexia, would have preferred to climb into her skin if you could.

"Tighter," you mumbled.

"¿Qué?" She whispered back, her lips pressing a soft kiss into your hair.

"Tighter, please,"

Alexia tightened her arms around you, until it was almost painful, but it was exactly what you needed. Being surrounded by her was working, the scent of her perfume and her laundry detergent invaded your senses, one of her calloused hands sliding up under your shirt and moving slowly up and down your back.

"Mi bebé, estás a salvo, lo prometo."

Alexia wasn't sure what this was. One second, you were kissing her back, teasing her in the car on the way home, the next you were looking around like you weren't sure what was going on, or who was touching you. She thought she knew what you needed, but evidently, she was wrong.

You had calmed down significantly after a few minutes, settling into the feeling of Alexia's nails gently running through your hair.

"You back with me, amor?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah." You inhaled deeply, leaning away and looking, guiltily, at your girlfriend. "I'm so sorry, Alexia, I didn't mean to freak out like that."

Alexia immediately shook her head. "No, I am sorry, amor. I should have checked in sooner."

"Alexia you were just kissing me, there wasn't time to check in sooner." You dismissed, rising unsteadily to your feet, and holding out a hand to help the blonde up as well. She still looked like she disagreed with you, but she took your hand anyway, allowing you to help her to her feet.

You knew a conversation was imminent, and you began to walk into the living room. Alexia caught your hand, though, pulling you back into a tight hug. You melted into it, pressing your face into her shoulder and inhaling deeply. After minute, Alexia released you, tilting your chin up to look at her.

"Better?" She questioned.

"Yeah, much better."

Alexia nodded, laying a soft kiss on your forehead, before pulling you towards the living room once again. You sat slightly away from your girlfriend, mentally preparing yourself to tell her what was going on. The blonde frowned, but didn't move any closer.

"Amor. Did I do something to make you so upset?" Alexia asked, rushing through the question like she was terrified of your answer.

"No, no. It wasn't you. I got... overwhelmed. Tonight was a lot."

"Why was it a lot? What got you so riled up at the club? You were acting normal one second, and then you were all over me the next."

"I saw you at the bar... talking to that blonde girl? With the red top?" You trailed off, looking down at your hands. Alexia misunderstood.

"Bonita, I did not mean to make you jealous, I was just being nice."

"I wasn't jealous, Ale. I... I knew her. That girl. I knew her."

The midfielder took this in, nodding slowly. She was watching the expression on your face, carefully guarded, with just a hint of hurt peaking through.

"What did you know her from?" She wondered cautiously.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. "I used to date her. Back in London. Before I moved here."

"Oh... Oh. She is that ex. The one it did not work out so well with."

You let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah. Not so well."

"And seeing her made you very upset?" Alexia continued. You nodded. "Can you tell me why?"

"That relationship wasn't good. At first, she was fine. We worked well together. She got... controlling and manipulative pretty fast. It was awful. We were together 6 months, and in that time she completely destroyed me. I was unrecognizable." You paused, peaking at the blonde. She was looking at you, sympathy written clear across her face, giving you a small nod to tell you to keep going.

"I don't think I really realized how bad it was until I met you, and you were so different than she was. Always so sweet to me. And seeing her with you, I don't know. It set off my fight or flight. I needed to protect you from her, and myself from her, and at the same time I wanted to prove to her that I was doing well, that I was happy. I wasn't happy, for so long after we broke up, and every time our paths crossed, she always seemed so pleased with herself. I needed to feel like I was yours, and the only thing I could think to do was the get you to take control, and get me out of there." You finished, eyes locked on the fingernail you were fiddling with.

Alexia was quiet for a while. So long, in fact, that you were starting to get nervous.

Finally, she spoke. "Well, first, mi amor, I am so sorry that you were in such a destructive relationship. You deserve so much better than that. You are... you are perfect mi niña, and I am so sorry that she did not see that, and that she was so awful to you. I would like to talk more about this, later."

"But you should have told me, amor. What was going on, who I had been speaking too. I would have gotten you out of there if I knew you needed to leave. You have to talk to me. When you do not feel safe, whatever it is, you tell me, and I will take care of it. Always."

"And, amor, there are other ways for me to make you know that you are mine, than trying to get me to have sex with you. We do not mess around like that when you are not feeling right." Alexia said firmly.

You found that, suddenly, you could not meet her eyes. Hesitantly, the blonde slid closer to you, leaving her hand open on the couch next to you, an invitation. You took it appreciatively, feeling inexplicably safer when her large hand completely encapsulated yours.

"I am not mad, bebita. I promise. Can you tell me what was going on in your head when you pushed me away?" Alexia felt you tense next to her, and opened her mouth to withdraw the question. Before she could, you spoke.

"We always used to have sex after a fight, once we'd made up. It wasn't healthy, and we shouldn't have been doing it but we did. I was remembering that, one of the last times. I didn't realized how unsafe I felt around her until I was with you, and I felt so safe. My body couldn't decide whether it was safe or not, it was really confusing."

Alexia sighed deeply, and you prepared yourself for her to get angry. You were surprised she hadn't yet, but it was only a matter of time. Wasn't it?

"If something like this ever happens again, you have to communicate with me, yes? You should always feel safe with me. Can I... can I ask why you did not tell me?"

"I didn't think you'd want to hear about it." You confessed, meeting Alexia's confused gaze.

"Why?" The midfielder responded, sounding completely bewildered.

"Why would you want to hear about my ex girlfriend, Alexia?" You scoffed.

"Because it was upsetting you. And she hurt you. I want to hear about those things. You are mine amor. Not hers, I know that. I want to know when something is upsetting you; it will never make me upset with you. Never."

You looked so unsure, Alexia rested a hand on your cheek, stroking gently back and forth with her thumb. "You can tell me anything, amor, anything. You do not need to worry about my reaction. All I care about is you being okay, not being jealous of your awful ex girlfriend."

You nodded hesitantly, placing your hand over Alexia's, keeping her hand on your face as you leaned into the contact.

"Mi amor," she murmured. "I am sorry tonight was so hard for you. How are you feeling now?"

"Better." You lied.

"Better, but..." Alexia said, looking at you expectantly. You wished you could be annoyed with how well she knew you, but you couldn't. It just made you feel that much more loved.

"But... seeing her again, it was like I was back there, in her little apartment. She made me feel so worthless, and I felt that way again. Like I was nothing, worth nothing." You admitted, turning away briefly to rub at your face, very tired of crying this evening. Alexia didn't let you get far, though, wrapping a muscular arm around your shoulder and pulling your right back into her.

"No. No. You are worth everything. Everything I have to give you and more, bebé, all of it."

"What did I do to deserve someone as good as you?" You wondered aloud, almost accidentally. You didn't realize what you'd said until Alexia frowned, looking into your eyes intently. You got lost in the warm hazel there, as you always did, almost forgetting your question until she spoke.

"You are good. You deserve good. I will only ever give you good, amor. Only ever the best for my girl." Alexia declared, leaving a light kiss on your nose, and then one on your lips. Her gaze when she pulled back was so intense, you felt yourself blushing heavily.

"I love you." You said shakily, managing a watery smile.

"I love you more." Alexia promised, leaning in for another gentle kiss.

Another thing about Alexia; when she told you something, you believed it. She had a way with speaking with such conviction, that when she told you she loved you, you were instantly convinced that she did. And if Alexia loved you? If someone as good, as perfect as Alexia loved you? You must have been deserving.

-----

did this win the poll? no. had i already started it when i posted the poll? yes. in conclusion, the results of polls are meaningless unless you pick what i want you to pick :(

[chosos-mascara]

all my love, suguru

chapter 1

summary: after an unexpected night spent with your close friend, you find yourself pregnant, and unable to tell him so. will you be able to come to terms with this news, or will it destroy the delicate relationship you'd had left?

chapter warnings: pregnancy, mentions of declining mental health (suguru), mentions of unprotected relations...

masterlist

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"She's acting strange, I'm telling you." 

Satoru speaks through the gritted teeth of his smile, waving widely toward you while Shoko sees you out. What had been another work week filled with training and teaching had ended with drinks; this week's rotation leading the four of you to Shoko's apartment. Though of course, much like last week's invitation, you declined, instead choosing to return to your own home with promises of an early night.

Only once you're safely down the corridor, the door firmly closed behind you does Suguru turn his head to reply to his friend. A weight lifts from his shoulders, and he stands a little straighter once he's sure you're not coming back.

"Seems fine to me." He attempts to throw Satoru from the painfully strong scent, forcing a nonchalant demeanour as he takes a sip from his newly opened bottle. There's been an obvious awkwardness and distance wedged between the pair of you and the group, though Suguru couldn't fault you alone - he's equally to blame for this uncomfortable situation.

"For once, I agree." Shoko steps away from the door, shoes kicked to one side to join the other pairs in a messy pile. Although she'd grown comfortable with taking them off on the carpet while seated on the couch, Suguru's constant remarks of her apartment's disorder had gotten to her. Not because she'd cared all too much, but because it was beginning to grate at her; though this new habit did mean she'd had to clean the floors less. But, she wouldn't tell him that. "Something's up with her." Her eyes move from the heap shoes to her friends.

Suguru stalls his reply, taking an unwanted swig of beer while his heart picks up it's pace. He tries to reassure himself that there's no way they could know, that they're just too curious for his liking. It would've been unlikely you would indulge in sharing that sort of information with the others, you'd always been closed off unless it had come to him, and even then, he'd had to push. He's sure he could end this conversation now... he just needed to think of a good enough excuse. 

"Probably just work, right Sugu?" Satoru pats his back a little too hard, turning to follow Shoko into the front room while Suguru lags behind. He's grateful this is coming to a close with little work from himself, and allows himself a moments reprieve.

"I don't think it is." Shoko places the keys on the scuffed coffee table, throwing herself onto the couch. Her own drink sloshes in the bottle with her thoughtless movements, but thankfully not enough to spill over. Her eyes move upward in thought, attempting to make sense of Satoru's initial concerns, linking the possibility of your recent absences to a conversation she'd shared with you a few days prior. 

Shoko considers letting the others know, and although she does stop to consider the effects of sharing what should probably be kept between the pair of you, she decides this is better said than left secret. 

"She asked if we had pregnancy tests in my office the other day." 

Suguru tenses. He can't tell if the others notice every muscle in his body hardening, or his skin growing cold. There's a stagnant air left in place of their reactions and Shoko doesn't look to either party, trying to suppress the simmering guilt she feels for sharing what was probably personal to you.  

"It's probably nothing, though." Shoko affirms herself more than her friends, brown eyes finally flickering up from the coffee table to gauge the damage she'd incurred. She winces at both of her friends' expressions, each of them displaying some depiction of shock with slack jaws and wide eyes. "I mean, she'd have told me if it was positive." 

Satoru moves first, taking a seat beside Shoko on the couch, arm outstretched to rest over the back cushions. Suguru doesn't feel ready to take a seat, his emotional state wavering, but he knows he needs to avoid suspicions from the other two. They'd moved on, he needs to too.

"Yeah." He speaks, an attempt to convince himself that Shoko's statement is true while he sits down in the loveseat in the corner of the room. His eyes scan over various bits of clutter that seem to decorate it; Shoko was rarely home, and rarely cleaned at that. Books are stacked in various piles, a few pieces of stationary here and there, a mess of clothes pushed to one side. 

He tries to focus on his surroundings, but his gaze turns hollow as he's distracted with imaginary scenarios, consequences of an unplanned pregnancy riddled with fear. He couldn't share his inner battle with them, because half of your quartet is blissfully unaware of an evening he'd willed himself to forget. 

But it feel useless when no matter how hard he tries, he can still remember everything.

"Just crash here, it's fine."

Sleeping at Suguru's hadn't been part of your plan, though neither had staying beyond the bounds of Saturday. You look down at your phone, and with the time glaring back to reflect the early hours of Sunday morning, you agree to stay over with some reluctance. Although you'd stayed at Suguru's plenty before, there's still an uncomfortable twist in your stomach when you're sleeping beneath a blanket that smells like his washing, on a couch that smells like him. You're sure this will end as the others always had - with a bad neck and a hangover.

"See you later." Shoko raises a hand while Satoru wraps an arm around her, his much larger frame bending forward to bear his weight onto her smaller one. He smiles wryly, attempting to imitate her good-bye, though voicing only incoherent nonsense. She rolls her eyes, forcing him to take steps toward the door.

Suguru brings through a few blankets, throwing them over the arm of the couch. His hair is free over his shoulders, gentle waves flowing freely instead of tied in their usual bun.  "Need anything else?" Now the others have left his voice feels weaker, and for the first time this evening you focus on his eyes. They look tired, almost downturned, hanging lower than usual with purple blotches under the skin. 

"Could I get some water?" There's some guilt in your heart as you watch him slowly moving toward his kitchen. You're sure he's likely stressed about work, there'd been an influx of curses as of late, and he worried about his student's wellbeing much over his own. 

The TV is on - flickers of light and quiet chatter as some old movie was on, and you take a seat in front of it. It looked to be something to do with war, as uniformed soldiers carrying guns run amok. Suguru returns with your water, placing the glass on a side table next to you. You lift it up, bringing the cool liquid to mouth and taking a few gulps before placing it back over the wet ring that had been left without the use of a coaster. 

He stands beside the couch, eyes locked to the screen, lips rested into a frown. "Suguru." You pat the couch to your right, legs moving to accommodate him beside yourself. At first, you think he isn't going to move, though he eventually begins to plod toward the spot, and the cushions move beneath his weight. 

"Are you okay?" The question leaves your mouth in a hushed tone, a small waver in your voice as you watch his stoic face turn to face yours.  "Hm?" His aloofness concerned you, and with an arm outstretched you place a worried hand over his forehead. It feels warm beneath your fingers, but not enough for him to have a fever. He looks to you in his confusion; you aren't usually so maternal with him, and touch wasn't something you often choose to give. At least, not as of recent. 

He has distanced himself from you, from everyone, as of recent. The sudden closeness between the pair of you felt much more intense given that context, and he realises his breath has caught in his throat. Being a sorcerer was difficult at the best of times, but as of recent it had felt like wading through water each time he would grow closer to the school. He thought he'd kept it under control, but as you inch closer to him, he realises he hasn't. 

Perhaps leaning toward him wasn't the right thing to do, but with your hand on his cheek, you're not able to hold back any longer. 

Smooth lips lock with yours, and your once concerned hand fell mellow against him, slipping back to lace beneath the dark waves of his hair, a gentle tug. There's a subtle taste of whiskey on his lips as you continue to kiss him delicately. The subdued motions are returned, palms finding your hips to move you toward him. You set on your knees, though he tugs more, and you find yourself seated within his lap.

Suddenly, the lull of the television is drowned out by the sound of your own heart racing within your ears, the quiet smacking of lips, the slow breaths from your chest. Everything feels heightened, leaving you with a sense of both belonging and urgency - you want so much more of him. Want overpowers any other logic in your mind, and although you suspect you will come to regret this in the near future, you can't help but entertain the thought of spending more time like this, within his arms. 

Suguru's tongue finds your own in a ploy to deepen this kiss, and you shyly accept. To begin with, the motions are a little sloppy, though you're soon dancing against one another in a languid pace. He raises his tongue and glides against you, and you gracefully repeat the action, growing closer, chest to chest, hands locking one to the other as desperation grows with every drag of his lips over yours. 

When your mouth is left bare, his finds itself at the nape of your neck, open mouthed kisses and nips igniting spark under skin. His fingers tilt your head backward to allow himself more room, and a soft bite at your flesh gives rise to a groan in your throat. His fists tighten over your shirt. 

He tugs at the fabric, palm kneading bare skin before deciding to discard of the garment altogether. Soon enough, there's a trail leading just shy of his bedroom door, and he finds himself asking the question; "Are you sure?" 

You don't allow yourself to think twice, to consider the consequences that may arise from sleeping with a close friend, and ignore the bubbling in your stomach. There's a voice telling you to take it slow, though it is overpowered by want. Years had been spent beside him yearning to be more than just friends - this would prove his loyalty to him, wouldn't it?

"I want you." You feel sure of it, even if there could've been a date first, a confession of longing. If this is the opportune time, then so be it. 

When you wake the next morning, there's an empty space beside you. It makes sense, you're just friends after all, but it still stings all the same. Your skin is bare beneath the blanket, and when you sit up to glance around the room, you notice your clothes folded into a neat pile at the foot of the bed. 

When you're dressed and up Suguru isn't in the apartment, and you realise what this is. He's unhappy, and you were just caught up in his sheets after he'd needed stress relief. 

You don't wait up too long for him because you're sure he doesn't want to see you. In your last moments you look naively for a note he may have left for you, hoping for the promises of breakfast - though of course, there wasn't any. There's no text either, and you're back at work soon enough, trying to ignore the fact he won't even look at you anymore.  

Weeks later, you're teary eyed and looking down at the result you didn't want to see. Of course, you're pregnant.

It's difficult to come to terms with the positive before you. Out of many imagined scenarios you played within your mind since childhood, finding out you were pregnant within the staff toilets of Jujutsu High had been the last of your predictions for what should be a magical moment within your life. 

There were suspicions that led you to this moment, and perhaps you could've done this at home, maybe taken some time to discuss with someone other than your rapidly racing mind, but you simply couldn't take it anymore. Your period was a week late, you felt tired, your stomach weak - it was evident without the test that something was up. The two pink lines had simply confirmed your fears. 

Your fingers shake, eyes welling with tears that you wish wouldn't fall. It wasn't supposed to happen this way, you'd planned on speaking to him about that night, to admit those feelings you ignored for far too long. Before then, there'd been little progression on the budding crush you harboured throughout your adolescence, though now you felt stupid for ever growing close to him.  

There's a few options that cross your mind among picturing yourself telling Suguru the news. You hadn't even built the confidence to tell him your feelings, how would you tell him you were carrying his child?

This was something you were hoping to reserve for a lover, for someone who'd adored every fibre of your being, who would love and support you through the difficulties of carrying and raising a child. As much as it pained you, you weren't that person to Suguru.

Your heart pulses in your chest, and you try to picture a life with him, one the pair of you would make along with a third, though you can't help but remember his lack of passion for you following those moments entwined with him. Because since that night, he'd done nothing to display any form of fondness toward you. 

You would have to deal with this on your own. 

You put the test in your pocket, pulling yourself together and placing your hand on the stall's lock before stepping out into the hall. It's a near silent journey back to your classroom, the sound of your beating heart and uneven breaths your only soundtrack, a whirring in your head that you don't seem to notice until you're at your desk, putting the test into the opening of your bag.

"You're still here?" Satoru's voice causes your body to jolt, eyes wide as you glance to your classroom door. His arm rests at the frame, head cocked to one side. You wonder if he'd seen anything, though you're sure he would've reacted by now, so you stay quiet. "Are you drinking with us tonight?" There's a smile on his face, one that hasn't changed through the years you'd known him and it takes you back to the innocence of your junior years, before any of you had really harnessed the power of the cursed energy that resides inside you.

You think of the child you hold, of their energy. Would they take after you, or their father?

"No," You clear your throat. "I've got a bunch of paperwork to fill out." It's a lie, but you sell it well with an open gesture to a pile of paper next to you. It's mostly student reports and letters, but you rely on the fact he won't notice. "Eesh." He sighs exuberantly, exaggerating his expression with bared teeth. "Sucks to be you!" His exclaim is followed by a creek of wood as pushes himself from the frame, turning. "See you tomorrow."

You sigh with relief, though it's only temporary - you have a lot to think about. 

tags - @animeisforkings @emikisses @boredwithwrath @karazorel7 @tomiokasecretlover

please let me know if you would like to join the taglist. please note, i will not add blank blogs. please show your support through reblogging.

[cheriladycl01]

Pushed Down and Down - Grid x Driver! Reader Part 2

Plot: Suffering with mental health issues as a driver isn’t easy - but when people actively don’t help it can only get worse.

Based on that one tiktok edit sound.

A/N: as someone who struggles with her own mental health this was a true comfort for me to write and reread. Drivers who talk about their mental health and how they do struggle literally have my whole heart (Lando, Lewis etc)

Warnings: Talk of mental health, depression, anxiety, etc, all drivers are a little mean to Y/N

"Hey Y/N this is just me checking up on you as we haven't heard much from you for a while! I just wanted to maybe catch up if you're in Monaco anytime soon? Quadrant have done really well, and we were wondering if maybe you wanted to join as one of the athletes, we've got loads of stuff planned and ... yeah! Just call me when you get a chance okay?" Lando's voicemail plays on your phone outloud.

You'd spent most of the off season at home, training, getting better, spending time on the sim. You had rarely seen your family or friends and everyone was worried.

Your mum and Lando had been in contact with one another, Lando being the first one to reach out when he hadn't heard from you over Christmas like he normally did. But then you didn't reply to his birthday message to you at the start of January and he just felt like something was off.

"See baby, they care for you" your mum says, sat on the edge of your bed running her fingers through your hair. Today was a bad day, where you'd seen loads of driver changes. It was lucky really that you still had your seat with Red Bull and you didn't have to worry about the 2025 season.

You were worried Christian was going to make you leave the team, considering that Red Bull didn't win the constructor's championship last year. You thought he'd replace you with a rookie that loads of teams had offered to come in the places of experienced drivers.

Lando was incredibly close to being the world champion last year, and part of you hoped as you got to the last few races that maybe he would, but as it got closer and closer and you were forced to hold position to save both the contructors and drivers championship which in turn left you with some races out the points and stuck behind drivers a lap behind you.

"Of course he does mum..." you sigh. You'd been crying in bed all day and the voicemail left by Lando had been the only thing to make you reach out to your mum for help.

"Come on lets get you out of this bed, god knows whats growing in their" you mum jokes as she looks at the state of your tear stained face and messy hair.

"Mmmhm" you say as she helps you out of the bed you'd been in for god knows how long. She helps you into the bathroom where she leaves you to shower while she cleans up the bedroom a little bit. She waits outside the bathroom, despite hearing things no mother ever wants to hear.

Your sobs came from the bathroom, loud and clear and your mum's heart broke for you. Your dad was always the one that was a little more soft, he was the one you feld to when your first boyfriend broke up with you. Or when you failed a test at school. And now he wasn't here.

Your mum was obviously a caring woman but she never held the bond with you that you and your dad did. You guys got closer after he died but sometimes you just needed the man who called you Pickle.

"Baby" she says with sadness written all over her face as you eventually step out the bathroom all clean and washed.

You slop into her, hugging her tightly as you cry into her.

"Baby, you arent okay! You're destroying yourself in this career! Where's my happy little girl who always had a Stracciatella Ice-Cream after every karting race huh?" she says hugging you just as tightly.

"I don't know!" you sob, feeling lost and like you didn't really know what you were doing anymore.

"I think, I don't think just the journal is working anymore sweetheart. I think we need to get you back with professional help, with a therapist" she says and you nod, still crying into her.

She sits there with you for a while before you feel her texting on her phone. You look up to see her texting your old therapist asking if you can start coming back.

"So... how do you feel going into the 2025 season? Confident, Nervous, maybe some Resentment?" the therapist asks notepad in hand.

"I don't really feel anything anymore ..." you admit, curled up on the armchair clutching the pillow.

"Mmmmm, so you don't enjoy racing anymore?" she asks cocking her head to the side.

"Not when my team don't think im good enough" you admit.

"Is it that they don't think you're good enough or is it that they trust the driver whose worked behind them for 5+ years?" she asks and you shake your head angrily.

"Look at Oscar and Lando, Oscar's given equal fights last year and it was his second year! Other teams do it so why not mine. It's not fair, it makes me feel like shit and to top it all off, i get blamed for it all" you burst out, standing up of the chair.

"Lets just calm down" she said to you, making you nod an apologise for your actions before sitting down.

"From what i've seen your driving is incredible and you're a great team player, why don't you wait around and see what options come to you this year? Just enjoy it, you have a seat, find the joy in racing again, even if its not against Max... there's 18 other drivers to race against. This is your career, there's going to be peaks and troughs that life, but find why you enjoyed racing in the first place"

So you did.

"Hey Lando, I'm in Monaco and want to hear all about Quadrant. Fancy a Coffee?" you left him a voicemail before going cleaning up your Monaco apartment you hadnt been to in months.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[sushiyuzu]

Hiii, I was wondering if you could make smth with a fem-reader who gets super angry, like destructive when mad bcus she lacks self-control rlly bad (for me I'm mentally ill lol) so when she gets mad her s/o usually walks in to her room destroyed with a crying reader in the corner, especially when she hasn't been taking her meds it ends up like that, and can you do this with Megumi, Yuta, and Sukuna

a safe comfort 🤍

a/n: thank you so much for trusting me with this request! it was my second time receiving and writing a fanfic request, and i truly appreciate the support! please remember to take care of yourself, especially if you're struggling with mental health—your well-being is so important! <3

warning: this story includes themes of mental illness, destructive behavior, and emotional distress. please proceed with caution.

megumi fushiguro

it starts as a small thing, the kind of annoyance you’d usually brush off. but today, something feels different. it’s as if the tension has been building for days, winding tighter and tighter until finally—something snaps. and when it does, you can’t stop yourself.

your hands are trembling as you shove the lamp off your nightstand, the crash of broken glass loud in your ears. the sound echoes in your head, but it doesn’t register—not really. you’re already grabbing at the books on your desk, hurling them across the room as frustration wells up inside you, fierce and unrelenting.

the anger takes over everything. it’s all-consuming, suffocating, like a weight on your chest you can’t escape. and when it’s over, when the room lies in ruins around you, you’re left standing in the middle of it all, gasping for air, your hands still shaking as the reality of what you’ve done hits you.

you drop to the floor, curling into yourself, the tears coming fast and hard. shame burns deep in your chest, the guilt crushing you as you try to breathe through it. you don’t want to be like this—you don’t want to be the person who destroys everything.

you don’t even notice when megumi walks in. he’s always quiet like that, slipping into your space without making a sound. but you know he’s there when you hear his voice—soft, steady, calm.

“hey,” he murmurs, and the sound is so gentle it makes your chest ache. “it’s okay.”

you can’t bring yourself to look up at him, too ashamed of what he must be seeing. you’re a mess. the room’s a mess. but megumi doesn’t seem to care. he steps carefully around the broken glass, the scattered papers, and kneels down beside you without a word.

for a long moment, he doesn’t say anything, just sits there with you, his presence grounding you in a way that nothing else can. his hand hovers near your shoulder, not quite touching, as if he’s waiting for permission to get closer.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he says softly, his voice filled with quiet reassurance.

you finally lift your head, and the moment your eyes meet his, the tears come faster, harder. you choke on a sob, unable to hold it back any longer, but megumi’s arms are around you before you can even process it. he pulls you into his chest, holding you close, and for a second, you forget about the wreckage around you.

his grip is firm but gentle, his hand running through your hair in soothing strokes. he’s not one to overwhelm you with words—megumi knows that sometimes silence speaks louder. instead, he just holds you, letting you cry against him, offering a quiet strength you can lean on without fear.

“we’ll figure it out,” he says after a while, his voice steady, like a promise. “whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together.”

you know he means it. with megumi, there are no empty promises. just the quiet certainty that no matter how bad things get, he’s going to stay by your side. and somehow, that makes it a little easier to breathe.

the minutes stretch into what feels like hours as you sink into his embrace. with every ragged breath, you can feel the tension start to dissolve. megumi’s warmth envelops you, a safe haven amidst the storm of emotions raging inside.

as the tears slow, you begin to notice the little things—how his heartbeat thrums steadily against your ear, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air, the gentle way he holds you as if you’re something precious. it’s a comfort that seeps into your bones, reminding you that you’re not alone in this chaos.

“i know it feels overwhelming right now,” he says, his voice low and soothing, “but it doesn’t define you. you’re stronger than this moment.”

you nod against him, trying to internalize his words, but the guilt still lingers like a shadow. “i don’t want to be like this,” you whisper, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“i know,” he replies, pulling back slightly to look you in the eye. there’s a determination in his gaze, a fierce protectiveness that makes your heart swell. “and you’re not. we’ll find a way to help you. just take it one step at a time.”

he wipes away the tears on your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his touch featherlight yet grounding. in his gaze, you see understanding—an unspoken agreement that you don’t have to carry this burden alone. with megumi beside you, it’s easier to believe that healing is possible, that you can face whatever darkness lies ahead.

as you sit there, the room still in disarray, you realize it’s okay to be broken. it’s okay to ask for help. because with megumi by your side, you know you have a safe space to fall apart and rebuild. you’re not just a collection of shattered pieces; you’re a person, and that person deserves love and understanding—even in the midst of chaos.

“thank you,” you murmur, feeling a glimmer of hope rise within you.

“always,” he replies, a soft smile breaking through the worry etched on his face. “now, let’s clean this up together, okay?”

you nod, and for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can find your way back to yourself.

yuta okkotsu

the anger hits you like a tidal wave, sudden and overwhelming, and before you know it, everything around you is falling apart. you’ve tried to hold it back—tried so hard—but the frustration is too much. your hands move on their own, knocking over anything within reach, the sounds of things crashing to the floor blending together in a chaotic blur.

you don’t realize how far you’ve gone until the room is a disaster—books torn from the shelves, clothes scattered across the floor, furniture tipped over in your frenzy. it’s only when the last bit of anger burns out that you see the mess you’ve made, and with it comes the crushing guilt. the shame.

you collapse to the floor, pressing your palms to your face, hiding from the destruction you’ve caused. your heart races in your chest, your breathing uneven as the tears come, slow at first, then uncontrollable.

you don’t hear the door open, don’t realize yuta’s standing there until you feel a presence near you. when he speaks, his voice is so soft, so filled with concern, it breaks your heart.

“hey,” he calls your name gently, kneeling in front of you. “what happened?”

you can’t answer him, can’t even look at him. the shame is too much. you’ve done this again—let yourself lose control, let everything spiral. yuta doesn’t push you for answers, though. he just watches you for a moment, waiting for the right time to step in.

“it’s okay,” he whispers after a while, reaching out carefully, his hand brushing against your arm in a tentative gesture. “i’m not mad. i’m just... worried.”

his words hit you in a way you didn’t expect, and before you know it, you’re falling into him. yuta catches you easily, pulling you close to his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively. he’s warm, gentle, his hands soothing as he rubs slow circles against your back.

“we’ll get through this,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice steady. “whatever’s going on... we’ll handle it together.”

his embrace is firm, but never overwhelming. he holds you just tightly enough to make you feel safe, his chin resting on the top of your head as he lets you cry into his shoulder. yuta’s always been like this—soft, gentle, never pushing too hard but always there when you need him most.

“you don’t have to be afraid of this,” he adds, his voice low. “we’ll take it one step at a time, okay?”

you nod against him, even though you still feel the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. but with yuta’s arms around you, the world feels just a little bit less overwhelming.

as you pull away slightly, just enough to see his face, you can’t help but notice the concern etched in his features. his eyes search yours, looking for any sign of reassurance. “you didn’t have to hide this from me,” he says softly, brushing a thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear that has slipped free. “i’m here for you, no matter what.”

the sincerity in his voice ignites something inside you—a flicker of hope amidst the storm of despair. “i just... don’t want to be like this,” you admit, your voice trembling. “i don’t want to keep losing control.”

“it’s okay to feel angry sometimes,” he reassures, his expression unwavering. “but you’re not alone in this. you don’t have to handle everything on your own.”

you take a deep breath, allowing his words to wash over you. it’s a reminder that while this moment feels insurmountable, it doesn’t define you. yuta doesn’t judge you for the chaos you’ve created; instead, he’s offering a lifeline, a way to navigate through the darkness together.

“let’s clean this up,” he suggests, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “but first, can we take a minute? just to breathe?”

you nod again, grateful for his understanding. yuta guides you back to the corner of the room where it feels a bit safer, sitting beside you on the floor amidst the wreckage. he takes a moment to simply breathe with you, matching his inhale and exhale to yours. in those shared breaths, you can feel the tension begin to ease, even if just a little.

“you’re strong, you know,” he says softly, looking at you with such intensity that it warms your heart. “even when it feels like everything’s falling apart, you’re still standing here. that means something.”

his words wrap around you like a warm blanket, grounding you further. you manage a small smile, a flicker of gratitude in your chest. “thank you for being here.”

“always,” he replies, the sincerity in his voice bringing a sense of comfort. “let’s start with one thing at a time. how about we pick up the books first?”

you both begin to clear the room together, moving through the remnants of your outburst. with each item you return to its place, you feel a little more in control, a little less lost. yuta’s presence is steady by your side, and as he laughs softly at the absurdity of some of the mess, you can’t help but join him.

“what a tornado you’ve created,” he teases gently, picking up a shirt and throwing it playfully at you. “it looks like a fashion disaster.”

“hey! don’t make fun of my style,” you retort, a laugh bubbling up despite the heaviness of earlier. the sound feels good, like a small victory over the lingering despair.

“i’d never!” he exclaims, mock-indignant. “your style is unique, and it needs to be respected.”

as you work together, the atmosphere shifts. the heaviness that had settled in your chest begins to lift, and with yuta’s playful banter, you start to find a lightness you thought was lost. you realize that even in moments of chaos, you can create something beautiful—like the bond you share with him.

once the room is tidied up, yuta turns to you, his expression serious again. “remember, it’s okay to ask for help. i’m just a call away, and you don’t have to face anything alone.”

you look at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “i really appreciate you, yuta. for everything.”

“anytime,” he replies, reaching for your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “let’s take care of each other, okay?”

as you sit together in the aftermath of the storm, you know that with yuta by your side, you’ll find a way through whatever challenges lie ahead. the world feels just a little bit less daunting, and that’s more than enough for now.

ryomen sukuna

it happens fast—too fast for you to stop it. one moment, you’re pacing around the room, frustration boiling inside you like a pressure cooker, and the next, your hands are smashing into everything within reach. you’ve never been able to control it, this anger that builds and builds until it spills over, consuming everything in its path.

furniture crashes to the floor, papers scatter across the room, and the sound of breaking glass rings in your ears. you’ve wrecked the place, torn it apart with your bare hands, and now, standing in the aftermath, all you can feel is the hollow emptiness left behind.

your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, tears blurring your vision as the weight of what you’ve done settles in. you sink down to the floor, curling in on yourself, the world around you too much to handle. the anger is gone now, but the shame remains, thick and suffocating.

then you hear him—sukuna. his voice cuts through the silence like a knife, sharp and unmistakable.

“well, well,” he drawls, his tone laced with amusement. “look at the mess you’ve made.”

you flinch, expecting the worst, but when sukuna steps into the room, there’s no mockery in his eyes. he surveys the damage with a raised brow, but instead of berating you, he simply smirks, as if he finds the whole thing more fascinating than anything else.

“you always did have a flair for destruction,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “but this... this is something else.”

you don’t respond. you can’t. the shame is too heavy, too overwhelming, and the last thing you want is for him to see you like this. but sukuna doesn’t leave. instead, he walks over to you, his boots crunching against the broken glass, and crouches down in front of you.

he tilts his head, his red eyes gleaming with something almost like curiosity. “are you done?”

you nod, though it’s barely a movement. your throat is tight, your eyes stinging with unshed tears, and sukuna just watches you for a moment longer before sighing. without another word, he reaches out and pulls you into his arms, not caring about the mess around him.

you’re too tired to resist, too worn out to push him away, and sukuna just holds you there, his grip firm but not painful. there’s a warmth to him, a strange sort of comfort in the way he wraps his arms around you, despite his usual roughness.

“you’re a disaster,” he mutters, his tone teasing but not unkind. “but i suppose you’re my disaster.”

you don’t know why, but his words make the tears come harder, and before you know it, you’re sobbing against his chest, your body trembling with the force of it. sukuna doesn’t shush you or tell you to stop. he just lets you cry, his hand resting on the back of your head, his fingers gently tangling in your hair.

“let it out,” he says, his voice soft now, quieter than you’ve ever heard it before. “you’ll feel better after.”

and somehow, with him holding you, the world feels just a little bit less chaotic. sukuna may not be gentle, but in this moment, he’s exactly what you need. the weight of his arms around you, solid and unyielding, keeps you anchored, keeps you from spiraling any further.

he’s not one for soft reassurances or whispered comforts, but his presence alone is enough to ground you. he lets you break down in his arms, lets you be vulnerable without judgment or impatience. there’s something oddly calming about it—being in the presence of someone so powerful, so utterly in control, when you feel like your world is falling apart.

after a long while, when your sobs finally subside, sukuna pulls back slightly. he tilts your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. his red eyes bore into yours, sharp and unwavering.

“feel better?” he asks, his voice low, his expression unreadable.

you nod, not trusting your voice to speak. he studies you for a moment longer before he lets go of your chin, standing up and brushing some debris off his clothes as if none of this bothered him in the slightest.

“next time,” he says, his tone casual, as if offering advice on something trivial, “try not to destroy everything. or at least wait until i’m around to enjoy the show.”

there’s a teasing lilt to his words, and despite yourself, despite everything, a small, tired smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

“come on,” sukuna says, offering you his hand to help you up. “let’s get out of here. you need to clear your head.”

you hesitate for only a moment before taking his hand, and he pulls you up effortlessly. as he leads you out of the wreckage of your room, there’s a strange comfort in knowing that, for all his arrogance and rough edges, sukuna’s still here—still willing to stay by your side, no matter how many times you break.

and somehow, with him, that’s enough.

[nomsfaultau]

Philza Malewife Competition Round 20

Lambs: W-why did you do this?!

Reunion: That shot was for "Tommy". You taught him how to not flinch, so he would react too late when you slit his throat.

Lambs: That isn’t my Tommy! It’s a monster!

[BANG]

Reunion: He’s a child. And that’s for “Wilbur”. Poor little illusionist thought you could show him what real love was.

Lambs: I-if you don’t hurt me, I’ll be convinced doppelgängers are safe. Then I’ll have no reason to hurt the “children”. Please!

[BANG]

Reunion: For “Technoblade”. You know you’re just like my Technoblade? Manipulating a loving family for months? They’re children. You’re planning to murder children. My children.

And finally...for family.

Reunion: Because in every. single. universe. but mine, I am loved. Even ones whose sins far outnumber mine, who my murders pale before their massacres, who mutilate the children I have dedicated my entire life to protecting. And yet even the monsters are forgiven, while I am left to rot.

You can’t imagine how it feels to look at every possible life you could have lived and known every version but you has the only thing you’ve ever wanted. You can’t. Because you’re the worst Philza of them all, Lambs. You have a loving family, and you want to destroy it.

So that’s why I left you for last. Because I had to make your death slow.

Previous rounds under cut

Cleaning. Cooking. Decorating. Karens. Sick Day. Eggs. Hugs. Venting. DIY. Gifts. Valentines. Bullies. Field Trip. Mental Health. Hide and Seek. Eating their kid's cooking. Accusations. Sentencing. Reveal. Current points: The Lambs Wolves Wear (3), Lighting Lanterns (1), Weight in Gold (3), Golden Apples (2), Fault (3), Lord! (1), Babies? (3), Mandatory Family Reunion (2). And an honorary point to qsmp for a guest appearance.

For a quick synopsis for the fics I’m referencing- those are here

[fallendev0tionvn]

Im slow.. when it comes to lore of Clive lmao but hey its interesting, so may i ask what's Nietzsche philosophy.. so like i can watch his philosophy, so i can understand! :D

i've been stalking your account to understand Clive but I just realize i am slow when it comes to lore LMAOO, oneee... question that is a Slight NSFW (Maybe..?), is Clive gentle when it comes of Him and MC do it for a first time?

(i just realized i change topic to add one question which is not related to Clive's lore :P)

I'll answer the second question first, Clive is always gentle! He only wants to bring you pleasure, not pain. The only time he gets a little rough is when he's feeling jealous🏃‍♀️.

ANYWAY.

I'm SORRY for the person I'm about to become, but get ready for a LONG yapping session (I was Dostoevskij in my past life) that probably won't make sense (keep in mind that I wanted to be either a comic artist, a psychologist or a philosophy professor...explains a lot). Half of this is from my notes when I was studying for my graduation exam💀

First of all Nietzsche is one of the most misunderstood philosophers. Why? He's either "idolized" by those red pill/looksmaxxing guys without realizing that he actually goes against their morals, or edgy wannabe "nihilists" for the quote "God is dead." (Nihilism is a form of extreme pessimism, in simple terms, it's the belief that there's no true meaning in life, nothing can be known or communicated. But if Nietzsche is telling you to destroy the old meanings of life TO create your own instead of listening to what others say, would he still be considered a nihilist? Sure, active nihilism is a thing- but in my opinion he is NOT a nihilist).

His philosophy has also been used historically for the worst things that I won't even mention. Why? his sister edited some of his last unfinished works based on HER own beliefs when he ended up in the asylum. Many think he was a "....", when- let's be real and study a bit of history- if Nietzsche's mental health deteriorated the year THAT political figure was born (1889), how could he possibly be associated with him? Literally, tf.

The reason for this is because I think many don't read or study his philosophy in the correct order, nor do they know the timeline of his ideas.

To understand the concept of the "Übermensch", you have to start from the very beginning, when he first mentions the Dionysian and Apollonian spirits- the übermensch is supposed to bring back the rebirth of the "tragic spirit". (Übermensch= overman, the highest version of oneself a person can become, the "better" version of you, basically).

What key concepts did I take inspiration from? (I say inspiration because not everything is directly related to Nietzsche, I started from his main concepts to create characters, lore etc.)

ETERNAL RETURN:

(Bad ending: The cycle ends here)

See Clive's necklace? The symbol on his bicep and the main menu? The ouroboros.

It's such a deep concept and it asks: "What if every moment of your life had to repeat itself endlessly, in the exact same way, forever?"

This means everything, every pain, every joy, every regret, would return again and again and again. This NOT about whether it's scientifically true, we don't know if we're destined to relive the same life after death. It's a thought experiment, a way to ask yourself "would I still want to live my life if I knew I'd relive my worst moments forever? How would I act?"

If your answer is no, you're not affirming your existence. If yes, you're embracing life fully. In a way, you'd try to be more yourself and live with fewer regrets, right?

DIONYSIAN VS APOLLONIAN:

(The intro of the game, Silas and Clive's conversation)

To simplify it: Think of the two hemispheres of the brain.

Right brain = Dionysian (chaos, passion, music, imagination, intuition, emotion). This side is emotional, creative, raw, deeply human. It's the spirit Nietzsche believed humanity lost.

Left brain = Apollonian (logic, structure, rules, order). This side is rational, clear, less human.

Why did Nietzsche use greek gods to describe this? Because he rejected the "classical and elegant" image of Greece we learn about in school. To him, archaic Greece was the perfect society because it embraced chaos, suffering, and the tragic. (That's why I added greek mythology :3)

He also saw greek tragedy (a form of ancient drama/theatre that expresses human suffering, fate, and moral conflict) as the perfect fusion of the Apollonian and Dionysian. This fusion created a form of art that embraced life in all its beauty and suffering.

With Socrates (ancient greek philosopher), the Dionysian spirit was killed. We began to exalt reason over everything, meaning everything had to be explained, justified, or made logical. This made humanity obsessed with truth and control, disconnecting us from the fullness of life.

"And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music."

Clive tried to force himself to lean more towards the Apollonian, he suppressed his emotions, tried to follow "moral rules", and tried to look "normal".

To explain the change between his younger self and current self there's an iconic quote:

"Become who you are" In the sense that in life, we constantly follow models that are necessary- because we grow through imitation. Children grow by watching, by imitating. But then, we must detach from this imitation and become who we truly are, a process of self reckoning.

After his "death", Clive starts being himself. There's a balance now, but you can still influence him to lean more towards his Dionysian or Apollonian side.

To live a full, healthy life, we need to embrace both sides:

"The tree that grows to heaven must send its roots to hell."

GOD IS DEAD:

(Who helped Clive?)

Nietzsche's most misunderstood quote.

Saying "God is dead", as he writes, implies that God once existed, or at least, that he was once central to the way humans explained the world. After all, only something that has existed can die; things that have never existed don't die. That's why Nietzsche has this declaration spoken not by an atheist, but by a madman. The atheist and the believer ARE part of the same system aren't they? One says "yes", the other says "no", but they're both within the same structure of thought, a world where God is STILL a reference point.

The madman on the other hand, speaks from outside that system. When he says "God is dead", he's not just denying the existence of God- he's saying that the world is no longer ORGANIZED around God. There was a time when everything was explained through God, when God gave order and meaning to existence. But today, that's no longer the case.

We must understand that Nietzsche, often read in an oracular and overly dramatic way, is actually a profundly coherent philosopher. His thinking is rigorous; If churches are now empty, if they became museums, tombs for god (visiting them for the "Affreschi", example: "La cappella sistina"), it's because he is dead. We killed him, or more precisely, we forgot him- because already with the scientific revolution, and even earlier with Renaissance, man placed himself at the center. We no longer live in a world explained through God, but through human reason, science and self determination. (That's why I chose literally the "forgotten God" from greek mythology. If you figure out who he is, you'll learn he actually died.)

Now if you want to learn more about Nietzsche:

His philosophy goes through THREE major phases;

- The youthful phase: Influenced by Schopenhauer (another amazing philosopher, highly recommend reading about him too), celebrated ancient greece, wrote "The Birth of Tragedy", Introduced the Apollonian and Dionysian spirits.

- Enlightment phase: Distanced himself from religion and idealism, embraced critical thinking, dismantled traditional values, wrote "Human, All Too Human".

- Mature phase: Developed his core concepts -> eternal return, übermensch, death of god, wrote "Thus Spoke Zarathustra" "On the genealogy of Morality" "Ecce Homo"

[balljointeddragon]

I wanted to ask more about your villain!Jentry AU

What led to her deciding to become a villain? How did her friends react? is this before or after the death of Gugu? If Jentry's the villain, who is left to challenger her- Stella? Michael? ED?

I really should make a proper post explaining this AU, huh? I've been far more active in discord than here lmao.

Small warning, my AU sketches are mostly drawpile doodles, so there are some things that look awful right now that I plan to redraw sometime soon.

Anyways! We'll start at the beginning. Spoilers, of course.

What Stayed the Same?

Episodes 1-5 remain completely the same with the main exception of Jentry taking things to heart more than she does in canon. Gugu revealing she's hidden a huge secret from her her entire life (basically), Riverfork's focus on Jentry's past mistakes, and then the students turning against her when it's revealed she was the one who caused the fire cuts a little deeper than it did.

What Changed?

Episode 6 is where I really break away from canon in this AU. By this point in time, Jentry has noticed Gugu's habit of lying to her, noticed the way she shifts the conversation when it comes to things like the Emperor's Robes. And it's pissing Jentry off.

She just wants the truth! She is tired of being so hurt in this place where she's suffered so much trauma. When she's certain she's alone, she trains herself and tries to feel out the limitations she has, which inevitably leads her to becoming stronger than her canon self (or, at the very least, she has a deeper understanding of her powers).

She's also got Kit on her tail the entire day, trying to talk to her and yet constantly being interrupted. Skip ahead and she's rushing into the giant cowboy to set it ablaze. As happens in canon, Jentry's locket is destroyed, but in my au, it's a little different.

I heavily picture Jentry bending back while in midair, inhaling as much air as she can (air that is tainted by smoke and flame). Her locket floats up, beginning to be consumed by the flame. And then the thread/rope piece snaps. Jentry jerks forward to curl into a ball, screaming until she can’t scream anymore, letting herself cry and feel. Her powers lash out and the locket is snapped into two before being consumed by the flames. She is transformed by the very powers that she so despised.

First Steps into Villainy

When Kit saves her, she recognizes immediately that he has lied to her the entire time, and she's furious. She shoves him back, yells at him to tell her the truth. To Kit's credit, he does. The entire truth, what he can tell her in their current situation, anyway. She studies him after he's finished talking and asks, "Is this what you've been trying to tell me all day?" "Yes. I've been trying to talk to you alone, but." he'd gesture with his hand. "Clearly that didn't happen."

Then Jentry reaches forward, cups his face into her hands, and asks him slowly, "Do you swear to tell me nothing but the truth? Do you swear to never betray me from this point on?" You see, Jentry messing around with her powers led her to discover that she has the ability to make others swear oaths that are then magically enforced. Whoever breaks the oath is killed. It is considered to be her first real step into villainy here. But Kit doesn't mind. If anything, he is overjoyed as it means she intends to keep him around, regardless of his true self.

The episode plays out the same - Kit disappears (only after Jentry tells him to text her that night) and Jentry goes home.

Into the Zhong is really where things take a turn for the worse, for Jentry's mental health and her future. See, Gugu hiding the whole Mr. Cheng issue was bad enough, but discovering that she's also cashed in a favor to have some shapeshifters lie to her to cover up yet another lie makes Jentry freak the fuck out. Making a long story short (because this post is already pretty long), Jentry refuses to go back to Gugu's place and instead goes to Kit's. There, she plots her next steps, which she is quick to follow through on.

For starters, she's so sick of Mr. Cheng by this point. He's messing with her, he's messing with Kit, and he's something that Gugu should have dealt with but didn't, leaving Jentry to clean up her mess. So Jentry (in her worsening mental state) decides she doesn't care anymore. She uses Ed's huge platform (which he was reluctant to help with but went along with regardless) to issue a warning.

Everyone in Riverfork needs to evacuate, or they will be burned alive within it.

Jentry's friends obviously try to talk to her, but she warns them again to leave before she sets the whole town ablaze; nothing is stopping her, and Riverfork certainly didn't have a good enough reason not to burn it down.

Most people think Jentry is just crazy, bluffing. No way she'd do that... right?

3 days later, Jentry begins to burn the place down. She does this in a calculated manner, burning only one edge of the town and moving the fire somewhat slowly so those who were finally realizing that she was being serious could escape.

Stella's parents forced her to leave, she was not given a choice. Michael tried his best to pull the 'This isn't you' card, but Jentry merely responds that he's right. This isn't the Jentry he knew.

The Jentry he knew has changed into a whole new person.

Michael ends up injured, but not dead, and his parents pretty much take him while he's unconscious and books it. By the time he wakes up, they're settled in a new town and the news is reporting the massive fire that has spread across hundreds of miles; 15 towns were directly effected, with many more witnessing side affects.

Believe me when I say Michael tries to get Stella involved, to go back and fight for Jentry. However, their friendship is not as strong, and witnessing Jentry actively hurting people has changed their viewpoint of her. Stella is nice, but Jentry hurt Michael. That alone speaks volumes to her changes.

Back in Riverfork, Jentry taunts Mr. Cheng out. As a means of further mocking him, she is wearing the Emperor's Robes, albeit they are more tattered than before due to a mini fight between Jentry and Gugu.

Jentry, of course, won. If there is a canonical method to trapping a ghost, Jentry did that to keep Gugu out of her way.

While Jentry is far more hardened here than she was in canon, she is still very empathetic to what happened with Xiao Lan and Cheng. So, Jentry revives Xiao Lan here.

This is not a favor to Cheng, nor is it done with good intentions. Jentry actively knew that pulling someone from the dead can only lead to misery.

She wanted Cheng to suffer for what he did to her.

So she brings Xiao Lan back, only to falter when she sees how scared she is. How desperate she becomes. At some point, Jentry's anger cools and she helps Cheng become his human self again, then buries both Xiao Lan and Cheng (with Kit's help).

The mogui is burned before it can get a word out to Jentry, meaning that she does not, in fact, find Moonie. Since I have a post showing that Jentry would not take kindly to her mother being alive in general (since again, a big lie Gugu told), it is safe to say that this is for the best.

Now, Ed frees Gugu and they try to get to Jentry to either convince her to go back to her normal self or to take her down in the event she refuses. Jentry, angered by Ed's betrayal, freaks out so much that he runs off (similarly to when they fought, but he's actively afraid for his safety and Jentry is not holding back). Gugu ends up once more sealed away, her words falling on deaf ears.

Business as a Villain

I call Jentry a villain in this au for a reason, which are heavily showcased in these doodles:

Jentry is not a good person in this AU.

After defeating Cheng and burning Riverfork to the ground, she makes something similar to the hidden Daoist market that we saw in Episode 6. Lots of shops, lots of illegal trade, lots of violence.

Jentry and Kit take up residence in a much nicer home, the only one still standing after the big fire. They set up operations there, which involve extortion, intimidation, and, most entertainingly (to me), games.

She is, in essence, a mob boss. She maintains control over various properties, runs illegal and legal businesses to expand her wealth, and resorts to physical violence if crossed.

Those who lie to her are given two chances to tell her the truth; if she asks you a question and you lie, that's your first strike. If she asks again (to confirm) and you choose to lie again, she becomes violent. Unless you are her spouse, the second chance (if the victim chooses to lie) will result in maiming or death.

As an example (as I discussed this within the discord), Jentry uses Kit or other people close to her to feel out for spies or those who wish her harm. She was told a girl who she had befriended, Mary, was a spy sent to kill her. Jentry asked Mary once where she was - Mary lied. She called Mary over and threatened to physically harm her if she did not tell the truth. Mary lied again. Jentry proceeded to keep her promise, harming her and ultimately killing her. Mary's friend, who was also a spy, begged for forgiveness and was tossed into the games.

The Games

So, what are these games I speak of so fondly? Why, child games turned gruesome. Call me edgy, but I'm just having fun!

You see, Jentry grew a bit bored, and despite what she's become, she's still Jentry. She loves karaoke, hanging out with friends, all that jazz (just uh... don't betray her... ).

Darling Darling - This game is a horrifying twist on Karaoke. Music will play over speakers that Jentry will sing to. In an arena below her, 'players' (prisoners aka people who have lied or tried to backstab her) are forced to keep track of the music. Why? During her singing, Jentry will use her powers to create those chains we witnessed in canon and will effectively use them as whips. If a player is hit, they tend to either become gruesomely maimed or are killed on impact. The winner is the 'Darling' of the game, and can have one of two endings depending on Jentry's mood. Either they are shuffled back to their cell to await the next game, or they are burned alive by Jentry.

Free Fall - In a series of platforms that hang from the ceiling, players are placed on the lowest level platform. They must make it to the top, which becomes increasingly difficult due to the platforms shrinking the closer to the ceiling they get. To add difficulty, the lowest platform drops to the ground after a certain period of time, and Jentry will be dancing with one of her spouses, causing shockwaves to be released, shaking and tipping the platform. It is every player for themself.

An Arm and a Leg- This game is specifically for Kit and is typically reserved for those who have tried to backstab Jentry or get her killed. It is a simple card game with high stakes. Players bet a body part, and if they lose, they lose the body part. Stakes start small - teeth, nose, eyes. Then gets bigger - fingers, arms, feet. Those who win don't really win, obviously. Kit is very good at the game and has never lost.

Other games include Red Light Green Light, where Jentry uses her powers to try and make the players flinch (those who do are killed), and a few others that I forget at the moment or will discuss in a separate post.

Jentry plays these games sparingly, mostly because she doesn't want to run out of 'players', but also to create hype when the next game comes along.

There is so much more to this au that I've been turning over in my head, but I cannot think of much more atm AND this post is rlly long. But I hope you guys enjoy my insane AU!

[the-witty-pen-name]

Nothing But Trouble (1)

Billy Hargrove x Shy!F!Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Synopsis: Billy has done everything in his power to completely destroy his life- like his goal is to crash and burn before he even gets a chance to start. Assigned as his peer tutor at Hawkins Community College, begrudgingly you are slowly helping pull himself up out of the hole he dug for himself. Somewhere along the way, he falls for you and in a turn of events you’d never predict for yourself, you fall for him too. 

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI (nothing in this chapter, but will be in later chapters); mentions of abusive parents (Billy's Dad); struggles with mental health; seeking help for mental health; flirting; some fluff

A/N: This is my first time writing for Billy so please let me know how I did- and what you'd like to see next!

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! And requests are currently open :)

No one expected Billy to have stayed in Hawkins following graduation. Furthermore, no one expected to see him enroll at the local community college. His plan had always been to get the fuck away from Neil and flee to the furthest place he could conceivably go. It had been his plan to escape for as long as he could remember. The Hargrove household was never a place he could ever call home.

No one knew the reason he stuck around. People theorized he stayed because of lack of money, or because he was a big fish in a small pond in Hawkins, etc. He stayed for Max- a plan to get his shit together and save her too. He didn’t believe it himself. No one would believe him if he ever admitted it anyways. 

Stupid fucking pipe dream that he’d never amount to- moving back to California and bringing Max and Susan with him. He’d swear he’d get his act together and step up for them. He’d change and be a big brother- step up and be the man of the family. However, Billy wasn’t that guy- he didn’t know how to be that guy. He was stuck in a spiral of hatred and self-destruction. He knew who he needed to be, but it wasn’t who he became.

Most of the time, Billy, if he did show up to class, showed up hungover or sleep deprived or just couldn’t get his shit together. He’d snap at his professors and peers. Mandated by the Dean by threat of being expelled, he began sessions with the school therapist- which turned into a referral to one mental health counselor after another until Billy felt he’d been turned from the inside out and dissected until he had nothing left to disclose. 

It was unlike him, very uncharacteristically so, to go along with all of it. He doesn’t know what possessed him to spill it all- break down in the stuffy little office on east campus. He felt like he was pushed off of a precipice and he kicked and screamed the whole way down. It all came out- every emotion he bottled up- all of his anger. All of his deep rooted, ignored until it was bigger him, true fucking sadness just ruptured and he couldn’t stop it. 

He’s broken- so fucking broken. But he’s willing to change. He needs to change. He’d decided that he won’t become Neil. He won’t be anything like that bastard. He needed to turn his life around or this fucking bullshit would consume him like he’s let it go this long. 

So this is how in the beginning of his second year- two semesters away from his associates, he’s stuck spending his Tuesday and Thursday afternoons with a tutor. Amidst the revelation for self improvement, he’s realized he should probably start to get his shit together. Almost too late in the game, as he coasted with mostly C’s and a few well deserved D’s and now he’s desperate to get his grades up.

Valedictorian of Hawkins High, no one expected you to stay in Hawkins following graduation. You were destined for greatness- the one to break the working class cycle. You were the one with the one way ticket to university and you were supposed to be leaving nothing behind but tire tracks. Yet, you’re here. No one understood why. Enrolled in your hometown community college and rumored to stay in Hawkins for the rest of your life. 

Both of you wanted to be anywhere but here. Which is why for the past 3 sessions of tutoring, Billy never said one word and you didn’t either. Your initial questions were met with shrugs and silence, but you were fine with that. You could wait it out- the school paid you either way. It made no difference to you whether or not he passed or failed. You just didn’t understand why he kept bothering to show up. 

Billy never bothered you the same way he got his long list of enemies at Hawkins High. Surprisingly, he left you alone. You’d have thought you’d have been an easy target- nerdy, shy and awkward. Billy and your paths didn’t cross often. You’d see him at parties occasionally, but it was nothing more than a glance from across the crowd. You couldn’t even really call each other acquaintances. 

You’d sign his paper he needed to give back to his academic advisor, proving he came to tutoring. Then, you’d both leave. Both of you would show up the next week on time, sit in silence and the cycle would continue. Until it didn’t. 

You didn’t show up on time, and Billy sat in the library waiting for you. He would check the clock, watch the door, and then check the clock again. Where the fuck were you? You walk in, late and looking flustered. You look like you’d just run here, but he doesn’t ask. You take your usual seat across from him and flip your binder open. He notices the grease on the front of your sweater. 

“Car trouble?” He asks, and your eyes snap up to look at him. 

“He speaks,” you say with shock. You settle back against the chair. “Um, yeah, my car has been giving me a lot of trouble,” you admit. 

“How’d you get here?” He asks, and he’s not sure why he even cares. 

“I took my bike- well, I stole my brother’s bike which was at one point mine so…”

Billy smiled. You don’t miss it. A little crack of light seeping in from his gruff exterior. He won’t let you see it for too long, but you enjoy it while he does. You’re amusing him, but you don’t feel like the butt of the joke. Maybe, just maybe, he’s warming up to you. Silence falls between the two of you again, the only sounds that fill the void are the turning of the pages in your binder. 

He knows he’s wasting his own time, and he’s also wasting yours. He can’t find it in himself to legitimately ask for your help. He doesn’t do that- Hargroves don’t do that. You figure your shit out on your own because no one else is going to care about you, he picked that up from his dad quickly. So, he settles for silence. He’ll flip through the pages of his textbook that he’s still pissed he had to buy, and steal glances at you as you study for yourself. 

He remembers you from Hawkins High, and he’s sure you remember him. He wants to know why you’re even still here- last he heard, you were supposed to be going off to one of the Ivy leagues like Harvard or some shit like that. How did you get from there to here? He shouldn’t care, but it’s the most interesting thing he’s had to think about that didn’t revolve around him. 

He’d thought about asking you out before, back in high school. He never did. You intimidated him. He didn’t know how to navigate you like he did other people. He also knew with that good head on your shoulders, you’d reject him. And he didn’t want to admit that rejection was something he couldn’t handle. Things aren’t that much different now, except this gift of time together which he’s choosing to squander away. 

“Do you want a ride?” he asks as you hand him back his sheet with your signature. The question surprises you, it was something you wouldn’t expect from him. “I could take a look at your car if you wanted- that is something I actually know,” he smirks. Where did this come from? You wonder. 

“Uh, yeah- that’d be great,” you say, and he can tell the question caught you off guard. “Will the bike fit?”

“Should,” He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

You follow him back out of the library to the parking lot. After you unlock the bike from the bike rack, he walks it over to his car for you. He’s able to maneuver it into the truck with just a little effort. Then, he walks over and opens the passenger door for you. 

Okay then. 

The ride is pretty much quiet except when you need to give him directions. The radio is playing and he taps his fingers on the steering wheel along with the song playing. You don’t live too far from the school, not that Billy cared. You’re watching the houses pass by out the passenger window and you don’t see Billy sneaking glances at you occasionally when he thinks he can get away with it. He’d imagined this scenario a few times with you, you in his car with him- maybe he’s driving you home after a date or something,  but he’d never admit that. That would show weakness, and he’s not weak. 

“You can pull in the driveway next to my car,” you instruct- pointing to your house. He backs in, so it’s easier to get the bike. He doesn’t get your door this time, but he instead goes to get the bike out of his car for you. He rolls it to the side of the house, and rests it against the side carefully. You walk over to your car, and get into the driver’s seat so you can pop the hood. 

“Get me rag?” Billy asks, looking over the engine, pulling the dipstick out from its holder. “Have you checked your oil recently?”

“Uh nope,” you admit, a little embarrassed. You disappear into the house for a moment and return with some rags. You can’t help but feel a little nervous- a little ashamed. You didn’t like not knowing things. This was an area where you really didn’t have any confidence and you were anxious that Billy would see that. You were worried he might judge you.

“C’mere, I can show you,” he says, “It’s really simple.” You step closer to him, flush against his side so you can see where he’s working. “Make sure your car has been off for a while so the oil settles in the tank- this is the dipstick- it will show you the level of oil. You wipe it off clean.” He takes the rag and wraps it around the stick and then pulls it through the rag to wipe it completely. 

He shows you the end of the stick. “Those two little dots? When you put the stick back in, you want the oil to be somewhere between them. If it doesn’t reach there- you know it’s low.” He puts the dipstick back in position and lets it sit for a few seconds and then pulls it back out. Oil coated the end of the stick and it didn’t come up to the first dot. You frowned. 

“Your car probably has a sensor that stops you from starting the car when the oil is low,” he explains. “Which is a good thing, so I think your car is fine.” 

“That’s it?” You ask, dumbfounded. “Is it that easy?” He chuckles. 

“Yeah, I mean- pretty much. Just need to put more oil in,” he shrugs, pleased with himself that you seem to be impressed by him.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, “I’m sorry you came out of your way for something so simple-”

“Don’t even worry about it,” he grins. “Least I can do.” 

He shows you how to add more oil- even though he knows you’d be able to piece it together yourself. You’re thankful for his instruction anyways- you tend to get nervous about things you’ve never done. Granted, he’s right that it was easy- but still, you didn’t want to mess up your car. You just felt better with him here. When you’re both done, he reaches up to close the hood and you do your best not to stare. He starts your car and the engine roars to life. 

You literally jump up and down with excitement. When Billy steps out of the car you don’t even think about it when you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His arms wrap around your waist and he smiles, not sure what he did to deserve this much praise- not that he would ever complain being close to you like this. Once you realize what you did, you panic and break away. You stare at the ground, nervously. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, suddenly shy. You shove your hands into your back pockets just to give them something to do. Billy smiles, enjoying all of it far too much. He bites his lip watching your body language. He liked that he made you a little nervous. It gave him a little boost of confidence. 

“Don’t be, sweetheart,” he flirted. 

You open your mouth to respond and your words fail you. This is just so new, this feeling that is beginning to bubble up. This is a side of Billy you don’t think anyone knew existed. It’s making you look at him in a new light, and you don’t know why you are beginning to feel this way. His eyes trail up and down, like he’s sizing you up. It makes your breath hitch. How did you end up like this? You tug anxiously at the sleeves of your sweater. 

“So, um,” he licks his lips. “I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “See ya. Thanks again.”

TAGLIST:@sunshinepeachx@downbear@fanlifeaamt@exploding-bonbon@losingmygrasponreality@skiddypiddy@andvys@djodirt@moonlightsolo@kyga01@sheisjoeschateau@melaninjhs@v3lv3tf0x@purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles@sunshine-mrk@danymunsonharrington@mrsjellymunson@fanficfantik@the-unforgivenn@punkrockmlchael

[idksmtms]

'tis the damn season (Modern!Aegon Targaryen x reader) - evermore series

A/N: Hiiiiii! I am finally back after way too long omg! While I am still stumbling my way through getting back into my writing, please enjoy this next instalment of the evermore series! I will slowly be coming back and trying to post a lot more often, but just bear with me while I navigate my writing journey. Enjoy!!!

Summary: Three years ago you left home behind to pursue university. You left Aegon. Now, you’re back and faced with not only the destroyed relationship you had once run from, but all the thoughts and feelings you have been dwelling on and refusing to face over the years you’ve been away. 

Word count: ~3.9k

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, angst, post-breakup, Aegon being heartbroken (past), breaking up, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of drug addiction, mentions of mental health issues, mentions of rehab, rehab recovery, breakups, heartbreak, just painful and difficulty reunions, owning up to your mistakes and too-late realisations, angsty but hopeful (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

The smell of mulled wine wafted gently across your face, carried by the warm air blasting from every heater in the manor. Cinnamon, and close, star anise and a hint of cherry, Mrs. Targaryen’s personal twist that made the recipe oh so coveted. 

The door was unmanned, a rather surprising thing given how much Mrs. Targaryen loved to flaunt the servants and security guards. Perhaps you really had been gone too long. 

You deposited your clutch on the little side table and divested yourself of your coat, first one arm, then the other, a quick pat of the pockets, a little fling onto the coat rack so the heavy black felt thing was situated just enough not to topple the overflowing rack over. You brushed the hem of your dress down, fingertips catching on the glistening red sequins before brushing over your black tights. 

You picked up the clutch again, a matching red sequin rectangle, and turned to the ornate mirror hung on the wall above the end table, gold edged and running the length of the wall. You took up only a sliver the size of you, and clasped your hands around the clutch to press it to your stomach. You straightened up, shoulders back and spine relaxed. You stretched your lips here and there, weird grotesque smiles and pouts and bared teeth to check for the millionth time that the slash of red lipstick had not strayed. You batted your eyes at yourself before turning away and beginning a gentle walk down to the splash of light in the hall from which a daunting array of chatter, clinking glasses, and soft instrumental seasonal tunes emitted. 

When Mrs. Targaryen heard (from the mouths of your parents no less) that you had finally returned after three years of university (“not even one visit during all that time?!” she had inquired to your mother - who then promptly explained that they went up North to you instead), she had impressed upon your mother that if you declined to attend her annual holiday party that she would take it as a personal affront. 

So here you were, fashionably late (only due to the almost clinical level of overthinking you had engaged in from the moment you began to dress to just a second prior) and ready to show your face in what you and Helaena had affectionately dubbed ‘high society’ once more. 

It’s not like you had cut off ties with everyone when you left. Almost everyone who had followed you on instagram was still there, nestled in your private profile (except the select few that were occasionally pruned on days you were bored). You still responded to messages, were still in the group chats (despite never once contributing), facetimed friends, et cetera, et cetera. Just because you didn’t return didn’t mean anything (except, of course, that it did). 

You stepped into the room, slow but steady, and took a moment to gaze around the ballroom. You were unsurprised at the continuing theme of green. Dark green curtains cinched back at each bay-style window, sashes and bows of the same fabric framing the tops. Dark green, satiny, tablecloths draped carefully over the standing tables dotted all around. The Christmas tree near the back towered over everyone, glowing with yellow lights and gold, silver, and phthalo green baubles. You still remembered how Mrs. Targaryen said that coloured tree lights were tacky, one of the more posh things you had heard from her in your early teen years. 

You dropped your gaze to the people. You could see some familiar faces, girls you hadn’t spoken to since the end of school, but whose instagram stories still diligently kept you up to date on their lives. Other people who had dropped off your radar completely and now brought vague and somewhat touching memories to mind of moments shared in classes, laughs and jokes once given and received. 

You caught glimpses of Mrs. Targaryen’s auburn hair through breaks in the crowd, a delicate hold on a flute of glass filled with non-alcoholic cider. Since you had known her she had refused to partake in drink, something that had earned your respect once upon a time. Before… 

You caught sigh of Aemond in the corner, a shiny black suit doing well to blend him into the shadows. He was gently grasping a flute glass in long elegant fingers, and his eyepatch was a perfect match to his suit, pressed perfectly to his face and over his neatly combed man bun. 

His ever watchful eyes caught you quickly, a spark of recognition, a little lift of the brow, the careful deposit of his glass on the table as he began rounding it. You smiled, lifted your hand in a little wave and waited for him to find you. 

His progress was interrupted, though not halted, by his sister gliding into view and smiling brightly as she gently grasped your arms for a moment before pulling them away. The most hug she could ever give you with her aversion to physical touch. You had never once minded, you had grown up with Helaena just the way she was, gentle Helaena as you often called her. 

Though she couldn’t handle touch, she stood as close as possible without it and beamed at you, the most unabashed grin you had ever seen from her. 

Her cheeks were rosy and her beautiful hair was gathered into a beautiful braided knot at the back of her head. She wore a dress of green and silver, emphasising the pale silveriness of her skin, no doubt a mutated form of the gown her own mother was wearing. 

“I can’t believe you’re back!” She said in an excited little voice, husky and gentle. You resisted the urge to clasp her hands in yours and instead held tighter to your clutch. 

“Me neither, it's been a long time,” you sighed. You could see the touch of seriousness twinge Helaena’s face, but you looked over her shoulder and beckoned Aemond closer before she could voice it. 

“Hello Y/n,” his soft whispery voice had not changed since you’d been gone. “Finally returned?” 

You smiled at him, pulling him into a little side hug before threading your arm through his and pulling yourself tight to him. It felt familiar, homely. You had been forcing the poor boy into cuddles since your families had been connected. 

“Yes, Mr. Dragon,” a teasing but rare nickname that made his remaining eye twitch in annoyance. “Back for now.” 

“I’m your elder, you should show some respect,” he gritted out, trying to shake you off his arm halfheartedly. You simply clung on and pressed a quick teasing peck to his cheek. Though it was technically true that you were younger than him (though only just about), you had been at just the right age to gain all the siblings’ friendship rather than becoming a patronised younger hanger-on. 

Aemond huffed but stopped his attempts to detach himself from you. You had always been a little too loving for his tastes. 

Helaena leaned her elbows on the standing table the three of you had gravitated toward and gently began fiddling with the clasp of your clutch which you had thrown down at the first opportunity. Your eyes drifted to the crowd again, as if you were looking for someone, and Helaena cleared her throat. 

“Have you seen him yet?” She asked in that quiet halting way of hers. You snapped your eyes back to her, felt Aemond stiffen a little in your grip. You wanted to think of something witty and gently humorous to say but there was the hint of a lump in your throat so you just shook your head with a pathetic little smile. 

“Ah,” Aemond nodded and then pursed his lips, swallowing and then gazing down at the table. 

“I’m a little scared to,” you whispered, now fiddling with the other end of your clutch. 

“Because you broke his heart?” 

“Aemond!” Helaena exclaimed, glaring at him as you took the glass out of his hand and sipped from it. 

“Because I’m scared I regret it,” you blurted out, exhaling long and slow. Helaena smiled sympathetically and reached forward to awkwardly pat your hands twice. 

You could see Mrs. Targaryen over her daughter’s shoulder, making her way closer and then setting her eyes on you. She smiled that polite and reserved smile she always used, then pulled you into a gentle hug when she got to you. She issued you on the cheek then lightly grasped both your arms to look at you properly. 

“How are you, my dear? It has been far too long.” You smiled and nodded, brushing a piece of your hair from your face. 

“I’m alright, thank you, Mrs. Targaryen. Just trying to relax for a little while right now.” SHe nodded along to your words and smiled softly, the way she had once done when you were little and thanking her for letting you stay over for a sleepover with Helaena. 

“Congratulations on your graduation, dear. I’m so proud of you. I always knew you could achieve great things.” You felt the bashfulness burn under your skin and bowed your head in thanks. 

When you looked up, you caught sight of him in the distance behind her. He was talking to someone, one hand grasping a drink and the other safely tucked into his trouser pocket. His hair was a little shorter than before, slicked back so it only flicked up at the ends by his neck. You could see an earring, his constant, and an array of rings on his hand. You wondered if he still wore the one you got him all those years ago. He was smiling, chuckling at whatever the other person had said, and you felt something clench somewhere inside of you. 

He looked… clean, well put-together, comfortable in his skin. You hoped he felt that way. His eyes flicked towards you and you turned your attention back to Mrs. Targaryen, nodding and smiling as she filled you in on all the changes about the place before she ultimately found another person that needed to be met. 

“I’ll just go say hello to Daphne, but I’ll find you again soon, dear.” She kissed you on the cheek and paused just as she was about to leave. She looked you right in the eye and gave you the most sincere smile you had ever seen from her. “It;s very good to see you again.’ And then she was off once more. 

You turned back to the table with Helaena and Aemond and motioned for one of the waiters to come over. You grabbed a drink off his tray and instantly began taking quick little sips from it. The side of your face burned and you couldn’t tell if it was because he might be staring at you or because you were simply aware he was on that side of the room. 

Suddenly the sting became agitation and you knew you needed fresh air right at that moment or you would start blabbering whatever words popped into your head and you were not interested in handling that particular panic symptom. 

“I’m gonna go out for a smoke,” your voice was abrupt, curt, as you began reaching for your clutch and picking it up. 

“You don’t even smoke,” Helaena exclaimed quietly. 

“There’s always time to start,” you mumbled as you turned away and walked out of the room, heading back the way you had come only such a short time ago. 

The air was brisk, like cold palms being laid flat against your skin as you shivered on the doorstep. 

You could just leave now and go home. You had shown your face at the party, there was no need to stay. You also knew that if you left before dinner, Mrs. Targaryen would be annoyed beyond belief. And leaving without telling Helaena felt like a betrayal anyway. She would understand you needing air for however long you wanted but she would expect you back in at some point. 

For now, you could just shiver on the doorstep, gulping in the lungfuls of icy air and thinking deep philosophical thoughts. 

The door opened a moment later and you turned toward the sound. He was a silhouette in the golden backlight, like a sign from god. You just stared at him as he slowly came outside and shut the door behind him. Your arms wrapped tighter around yourself. 

He didn’t say a word, just continued looking at you as he lifted his arm and held it out to you, your coat proffered in his hand. You gently took it from him and he watched you slip it on. 

“Y/n,” he said your name so evenly, no emotion, no indication of his thoughts. You sort of hated that you could no longer tell what he was thinking. His voice had not changed, you thoguht, then scolded yourself because why would it have? 

“Aegon,” you whispered, chewing on your lip as you glanced toward him then away then back again. You could only accept him in small doses right now. 

“You’re back,” he responded, showing his hands into his pockets as he looked out onto the gravel drive then back to you. You could see his truck parked by the garage on the far side, near the hedges on the property line. It was just as garish and hold as it had always been. Just as full of memories. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, biting your lip a little harder until it stung. 

“You didn’t say,” and he sounded almost offended, as if you hadn’t just ignored him for the past three years. 

“Should I have?” You mumbled, glancing back at him then away again. He was staring, unabashedly, at your face. 

“No,” he shook his head slowly, back and forth, then popped his lips. “Nope.”

In the silence that followed, you felt the pressure of the air on your brain. Your eyes stung and your throat clogged and you could do nothing but let the waves wash over you. You turned to him, stared at his blurry outline through the tears and felt your lips begin to shake with the sobs threatening at your throat and tongue. He was quick to pull you in, to wrap his arms around you and tuck your face in against his neck. 

He was so warm, as he had always been, but leaner now, less soft and more defined muscle. He smelt clean too, like fresh ocean-scented laundry detergent and cold cologne and his weird spicy shampoo. He clung to you tightly and gently hushed you and you wanted to hit him, to pummel him on the chest and slap him across the face. 

How dare he be so nice? How dare he comfort you when you deserved none of it? How dare he be so kind when all you had done was break his heart when he deserved the pain the least? You sobbed harshly against his shoulder, wrapped your arms around him and clung tightly. You could feel the damp fabric under your face. You only pressed closer until the sobs became quiet little blubbers and you could feel the drip of a tear against the back of your neck, the press of his pursed lips against your hair. 

You pulled away quickly, turned your back to him as you began hurriedly wiping at your cheeks and praying your waterproof mascara worked. You could hear him sniffing behind you, and you paused, closed your eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then whispered, 

“I’m sorry.” He waited for a beat. 

“For what?” 

“I-” you swallowed, turned back around, looked into the bright, shiny, achingly beautiful blue of his eyes, the little line of water balanced precariously behind his eyelid. “I don’t know. A lot of things.” Your voice was clogged and pain-filled and you swallowed again. 

“Let’s be specific then,” he breathed out, smiling the joking little smile when he was feeling sarcastic and teasing, but a sadder, waterier, version. 

“For leaving when I did, for not explaining properly and maturely, for not calling.” You paused. “For letting myself believe I didn’t love you that much. For thinking that leaving also had to mean leaving behind.” You brought your hand up and began chewing on the side of your finger. He was quick to bring your hand back down, a gentle press on the forearm to force your arm back to your side. You cleared your throat and wrapped your arms around yourself. You looked off into the distance, into the black night by hedges. 

“Helaen told me you got out of rehab last year.” You began chewing on your lip. He cleared his throat. 

“Yes,” he nodded, “one and a half years sober now.” 

“Congrats,” you whispered. “You look good, sobriety suits you.” You paused. Gulped. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. What does that even mean…” you glanced at his face and the smile he was trying so hard to repress, the mischievous glint in his eyes. A breathless laugh escaped you, a pitchy little giggle that was most likely insanely unattractive but made you feel freer, a little lighter. 

The sudden bursting wish that he would kiss you was blinding. And sobering. You cleared your throat and looked away again. 

“It’s ok,” he finally said in a sigh, strolling closer. “Well, I mean, as ok as getting your heart broken by the girl you thought you would marry can be.” You shot him a glare. 

“Don’t joke about this.” 

“Why not? I’m the one that got heartbroken if I remember correctly.” “Aegon.” 

“Alright, sorry,” he hugged, but the smile said he really wasn’t. You clenched your hands together. 

“I was wrong,” you finally blurted out. 

You hadn’t been expecting to do this tonight. You had sat in your bedroom a week after you had returned and thought about how you would get in contact with him. A text message perhaps, a letter passed through Helaena if you were feeling old school, something to let him know you wanted to talk. And then you would meet him at a coffee shop, or maybe at the park where you used to force him to take walks with you so he wouldn’t sit in his room thinking about all the drugs he could be doing. 

But then Mrs. Targaryen had bumped into your mother and you had been forced into attendance, and you suppose the unavoidable is as the name suggests… unavoidable. 

Aegon didn’t say a word. 

“I was wrong in so many ways that I actually don’t even know where to start now…” you shifted a little, fiddling with a coin you had left in your coat pocket.

You could almost see the argument play out in your mind’s eye like a movie. The university acceptance letter crumpled in your hand as you both stood in his room. You were looking at him apprehensively, at the darkness in his eyes as you told him how excited you were, how you had to start packing and booking flights and… You could hear him asking what would happen between you two, what would become of the beautiful budding little thing the two of you had cultivated in the midst of all the troubles of your lives. 

“I don’t know,” you had said hesitatingly, looking down at the paper in your hands. You were young and irrational then. Though you had only grown three years older since (a blip of time in the grand scheme of things), so much had changed since. 

You could remember the way you had said you were going, as if he had ever mentioned stopping you. How defensive you had gotten when there had been no attack. 

“What about us?” He had asked. “What about me?” And the stupid, angry, words you had said. How you weren’t going to let anything hold you back. Not even this. 

It had felt so right at the time, to tamp down the feelings you had for the chance at an exciting, independent life. Not knowing… Not knowing what he had been going through. Not knowing that he hid those dark, struggling, parts of himself from you so you would only ever see the sunny side of life. Not knowing that he was just sitting there and taking all that shit from you because he would do anything to make you happy. 

And you, spoilt and ignorant you, had just up and left and taken three years to realise that while you enjoyed your life away from home, it could only have been better with him still in it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about the drinking and the drugs? Why did you let me say all that shit to you?” You looked at him, feeling the tears burn again but ignoring them as you reached out and grasped his hand between yours, gently running your fingers across his own. 

“I don’t know,” he mumbled in return, bringing his other hand to do the same across the back of your hand. 

You supposed it didn’t matter. Both of you knew, even if he didn’t say it. And it didn’t really need to be said anyway. 

You moved even closer, gently cupping his cheek. He closed his eyes, nuzzled his face into your palm and took a shaky breath in, then out. You ran your thumb across his cheekbone, back and forth, feeling the barest hint of stubble come in. 

“Aegon,” you mumbled, pressing a little closer so that more of you touched him, so that more of you could nuzzle into his warmth. “I can’t promise that I’ll stay here,” you began hesitantly, “but if I leave again, will… will you come with me?” 

Aegon opened his eyes and looked at you. Deep into your eyes as if he could see to the very dark core of your soul. 

He could see the first time the two of you had kissed, awkward and gentle in the darkness of the Targaryen manor kitchen when you were getting water late at night during a sleepover with Helaena and he was sneaking back in from a party. 

He could see the text messages where he had shyly asked you out on a date despite already having kissed you. The quick response you had sent, eager and unafraid. 

He could see all the little dates between the highs and the drunken stupors. He could see the times you had sat in his room, studying at his desk while he lay on his bed, still a little buzzed, thinking about the next party or dwelling on the way his mother had yelled and called him a failure, compared him to you, only a few hours prior. 

He could see the years of silence. The news that you had packed and gone off to university, left him behind like he always knew you would. Your number, still in his phone, left untouched. Radio silence. 

He looked at you now, teary eyed and so pained, so apologetic. At your shiny and sparkly red dress. At your lips. 

He pitched forward and pressed his mouth firmly to yours. He kissed you like he was drinking water. He kissed you like he had not taken a breath in three years… and you were air.

[c0eu4]

CL16 | Depress girlfriend ☁︎

Summary: Charles comes back to his shared house after three weeks of intense race. But the thing he didn't expect is to find her girlfriend having a relapse.

Warning: Fluff, depression, hurt/comfort

A/N: Here, we talk about depression and some things that it creates : lack of hygiene, not taking care of yourself..

MASTERLIST requests are open

Depression, that thing that destroys life.

She's under the covers, the rain is hitting the living room windows and her eyes are heavy. Her legs hurt and her stomach growls.

She would scare anyone. Her eyes are red from tears, her lips irritated, her hair messy and dirty. Anyway. She's depressed.

The door of her apartment opens, and she knows it's her favorite Monegasque.

He opens the shutters and sits next to her, giving her a big hug.

''Have you relapsed?'' He asked, softly to not fear her. His hands moving up and down in her back and hair.

She doesn't answer and puts her forehead against his shoulder. She feels tears coming back in her eyes and cry, again. She sob uncontrollably, her body shaking and releasing all the stress she accumulated during the few weeks ago.

His grip around her gets tighter and he puts his cheeks against her hair, knowing that he just has to wait to let her calm down. He keeps rubbing her back until she finally manages to cry less. She separates from him, keeping her head down and can't even look at him in the eyes.

''I-I'm- sorry..'' She said with a weak and shaky voice. Charles put his hand on her cheek, lifting her head up.

''Mon amour.. There is nothing to be sorry about..'' She restarted to cry like a little baby. Charles kissed her tears until they finally stop.

''Have you taken your medicines princess?'' He asked her, trying to not put pressure on her.

She shakes her head as a no. His eyebrow frowned.

''Why bébé ? Talk to me please..'' He stoked her hair with his right hand, keeping his left hand on her cheek.

''I-I..'' She gibberish, tears coming back in her eyes.

''It's ok.. take your time..'' He tries to reassure her and make her talk to him. He hates to see her like that. Since she no longer takes her anti-depressants, she sometimes has days when she feels low. But this time, it's a big relapse. Especially since Charles wasn't there for her because of his three intensive weeks of racing.

She takes her time like he said, taking deeps breaths to calm herself down.

''The reason is stupid..'' She finally managed to say.

''Nothing is stupid when we talk about your mental health chérie.'' He stokes her cheek with his thumb.

''I.. uhm.. It's just that... I had a lot of homework to do and I was lost.. you weren't there to help me and it was like.. I was just incapable of doing my homework.. And I got a very bad grade... then another one... And here I am now..'' She said, trying to not sob again.

He kissed her forehead.

''It's ok chérie. It happens to have some bad grades.''

He retakes her in a comfortable hug and strokes her hair.

''When was the last time you ate ?''

She takes a little time to answer him.

''Maybe two or three days.''

His eyes widened and he put his hands on her shoulders, pulling him back from the hug.

''This is really bad y/n.'' His voice was more firm than he expected. She immediately cried again, looking at the ground, ashamed.

''I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...''

He takes her again in his warm arms, whispering sweet words to her ear.

''No no no no, don't cry chaton.. It's ok.. You know what ? I'm going to carry you to the kitchen and make you a delicious dinner, ok ?''

She nodded against his shoulder, feeling one of his arms going under her knees to lift her up from the couch. She moaned slightly in pain because of her weakness, her whole body hurting.

He walked her to the kitchen, making her sit on a chair, in front of the wooden table. She looks at him making some pasta, her eyes heavy and half closed.

''Mon amour, don't sleep, you need to eat.''

She keeps her eyes open. Charles talked to her the whole time he was doing the pasta, to keep her awake. He knows how much she usually likes his voice and his french accent. Especially when he was talking directly to her. He talked to her about his weeks. When him and Carlos went to paddle, when he was doing his track walk, all the fans he met...

After about twenty minutes, he placed a plate in front of you, full of pasta with tomato sauce. He gives you a fork and a spoon. He put a glass full of water up to your plate.

''Try to drink a bit before eating.'' He sits in front of you with his own plate full of pasta.

She took the glass and slowly drank the water, her throat hurting her.

She caught and started to eat her pasta, Charles looking at her with love in his eyes. Even when she was at her lower, when she was looking like a zombie, when her hair was dirty and messy, when her lips weren't healthy, he was still loving her.

They eat together, slowly. She feels her empty stomach full of food and it makes her feel better.

After their little dinner, he takes her to the bathroom. He undresses her, with her consent, like if she was a little child. He undresses himself and makes her sit in the bathtub filled with warm water. He sits behind her, her back against his chest. He keeps her close to him, stroking her waist and thighs. He helped her to wash her body and her hair.

When they were done with the shower, he dried her hair with a dryer and braid it. He brings her underwear, a short and one of his hoodies, her favorite one. She put everything on, without help this time, feeling already a bit stronger than this morning.

He carried her with his big arms on his shoulder, making her giggle and chuckle. He was so happy to hear her little laugh after so much time away from her. He put her down in their bed, laying next to her. She quickly hugged him and he hugged her back, his hands stoking her back. She bury her nose in his neck, smelling his scent.

''Good night mon chat.'' He kissed the top of her head, nuzzled his nose in her hair.

''Good night Charlie.'' She kissed his neck with a warm and wet kiss and quickly fell asleep in the arms of her lover.