#female sniper tf2 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slashycassy · 12 days ago

Text

•TF2 SNIPER X OC

PILOT CHAPTER: "Rifles and Baccarats"

AN: There we go with the pilot of this story i hope you will enjoy it. This chapter is mostly to introduce the lady of the story but also to set up a plot that we will use later English is not my native language please excuse my mistakes Trigger Warning: none, just some very light suggestive description Word count: 2,100 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

March, 1987

The night is young, golden crescent moon in the sky, little to no cloud and a soft chill wind passing in the air. Chatter and laughs are heard from the main room of the casino, warming the place. Fizzy wines, soft jazz and the clicks of glasses and heels are the soundtrack from this sweet evening at the “Royale”.

Most of the people there are seated are the tables, playing cards and gambling. Tonight’s great entertainment: The Roulette. The tiny bead rolling over the red and black numbered tiles, gaining gasps of anticipations, groans of defeat and cheers of victory.

The other tables were busy too, masters of card games, especially Poker, were testing their most efficient strategy to ensure the most successful combination of strong cards.

The men were mostly the one gambling in the hot and glamorous atmosphere of the casino, wives and maybe mistresses around them, blinded my the money they could offer them.

Non-players were scattered around the casino, the bar counter almost full of fortunate guests, the smoking room less crowded but still allowing smokers to chat among themselves.

Tonight is a special night, it is the Casino’s fifth anniversary since the owner changed, Mann Co had finally conceded this old building in downtown Santa Fe, previously being the Builders League United weapon warehouse, leading the land to go on neutral grounds between the two teams, in theory.

Today, the “Royale” is known as one of the most prestigious casino of the southern states, after the ones in Las Vegas and Los Angeles, not only for the quality of the place but also because of its owner. That loud mouth, strong minded, landlady that made her way by herself in the game industry. She is as hated as loved by a lot of people, some idolize her, some envy her.

It was a rare sight. It was not everyday a young french immigrant woman could made such a journey through success this quickly, especially in those times. She had arrived in New Mexico five years prior with money, ambition and the will to become someone: a true believer of the American Dream who believed just right.

Her appearance might have helped a bit, some describe her as a “Siren for success, luring everyone that could be helpful to take her to the top”.

With a puff of tobacco-scented smoke, she is looking at the moon, leaning on one of the balconies’ railing. Her face shows nothing but indifference to the party going on inside her place. She’s too used to that, and it is becoming boring and uninteresting, but it’s also important for her to keep the casino busy with the elites having fun.

Well, the said-elites are the mostly the ones making those parties “boring and uninteresting”, all of them acting as snobbish as they can act, flaunting goods they don’t even need.

She maybe looks like them, by the way she dresses, the size of her house or by her net-worth, but she can’t help kind of despise them, because unlike them, she knows how to stay humble. She was taught to be.

She takes one final drag of her cigarette, dusting the last ashes in the nearest ashtray and sliding her stilettos heels back one before returning inside. The once muffled noise is now returning to her in full volume.

Carefully going down the stairs to the main room, she gets a few astonished looks from the latest guests. Taking in how her long sleeveless red velvety dress was hugging her skin, how her neat black hair was falling on her shoulders. The tattoos on her arms and back on display. She puts on her polite smile.

She grabs a flute glass of a purplish sparkling drink from a silver tray held by a waiter. Seeing him now holding an empty plateau, she kindly dismisses him, allowing him a little break. She walks in the crowd, smiling and waving at the guests. She’s heading toward a very particular room of the casino, where her ‘special guests’ were waiting for her.

On her way, she makes the time for small talks with a few polite people that interrupted her walking. One of them was a tall older woman in a purple suit, she had congratulated the red-wearing lady for how much of a success this evening was. With a thank and a handshake, they parted their way, but the landlady could still feel her eyes in her back.

The French girl finally arrived at her destination, a private lounge. A bar and a single bartender were stood at the end on the room. In the middle sat a large poker table, with seven men around it six players and one dealer, playing cards. Their wives were quietly chatting, drinking and now eyeing the European entering the room, they kind off keep and suspicious feeling about her, because of how close she was to their husband.

“Messieurs*”, she says, the french word rolling on her tongue, alerting the men of her presence.

“Ah! Here is our lady!”, one of the men shouts.

He had ditched out his suit’s vest, to be more comfortable. He passes his hand in his grayish hair to comb it a bit.

“Good evening to you too, Mister Richards”, she responds with a heavy french accent that she cant’ get rid of, going to shake his hand.

She then looks at the other men and greets them one by one. “Raileigh, Oswald, Sinclair, Salvador, Decaro..” They were the other Casino owners of the southern States, big bosses in the game industry, her included, being the only woman.

She then turns to the wives.

“Ladies”

They answer with a polite smile.

She looks at the dealer and dismisses him. He stands, nods and leaves the lounge. She then sits at his place.

“You don’t play?” Salvador comments.

“Please, sir Salvador, the owner doesn’t play in their place, you told me so”, she adds with a playful wink.

She distributes the card to them, playing the dealer for them.

The play was going on well, lots of money were dealt and lots of drinks were downed. She stays focused, arbitrating the business men. The seven of them were talking about work and some partnerships and maybe organize a tournament, maybe in Las Vegas.

She notices the suggestive looks she gets from her male associates, how one of them was discretely touching her feet with his own under the table.

“All in for Sir Decaro, any calls?”, she announces.

“Fold.”

“Fold”

Sinclair raises the bet.

The mind game between Decaro and Sinclair began as she examines the two men. One of them a good player, the other is only here by luck. Decaro reveals his cards.

“Three of a kind for sir Decaro”, she declares

Sinclair sighs, a mischievous grin on his lips as he reveals his own cards.

“And a Flush for sir Sinclair, making him the winner of this game”, she adds, while Decaro was starting a fight with Sinclair, calling him a cheater.

She kicks a the annoying foot under the table, glaring at Oswald for his disrespectful behavior, knowing his wife was behind him, so was his mistress in the main room of the casino. She swears this man’s only wish is to have her knelt before him, giving him an oral treat. He’s a perverted men. Like her other colleagues in the room, but they were more subtle about it. God she hates them.

Being a business lady was an incredible job, but her associates were.. let’s say.. pains in the ass, but it was the routine after all.

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

The moon is still fully in the night sky, but the scenery is not the same. The same wind feels cooler than before, no lights to be seen in the badlands. Some coyotes are howling their guts out to prove they exists.

Well hidden in a secluded plain area, some laughter are heard coming out from a building. Eight men are enjoying their victory from well-fought battle against competition. Here was the Reliable Excavation Demolition team, also known as the REDs. This team was composed of nine mercenaries, each of them an expert of their class, making them strategically balanced.

They were enjoying a nice game of card with a few beers, their chatter a symphony of multiple accents.

The youngest of them was throwing a tantrum against the wisest who had removed his construction helmet, blaming him for his obvious defeat in the card game, while the alcoholic one was drunkenly making fun of him for being a ‘cry baby’. Around the table were sat two other of the nine men, a tuxedo wearing one, smoking a cigarette and clearly annoyed by the young man's behavior, next to him, a gas-mask wearing one, they never really know who this one was, they just knew that he? She? Them? Whatever. This one liked to set things on fire.

In the same room, on the couch watching a quiet show, were sat three other men, the tallest and broadest one, a glasses wearing one, dressed in a white dress shirt, a beige vest and a red tie. They were pretending to listen to their loud colleague, his iron helmet covering his eyes but to the other mercenaries’ dismay, not his mouth. He was rambling about a certain Sun Tzu and how he said a lot of war-related stuff.

The eight of them.. eight? Yes one is missing.

The last mercenary of the team could be considered as an introvert or a loner, someone who enjoys his times alone. Even if every one of them had a room for themselves in the base, this one prefers to stay in the intimacy and quietness of his van.

That night, he had decided to trade the evening with his teammates with a tranquil wandering in the dark badlands. He had parked his camper next to a nice spot and had started a little campfire outside of it, to keep him a little warm in chilly weather.

He was cleaning his beloved rifle, piece by piece and humming a song by The Who, coming from his van’s radio. He had a solo mission coming up, the contract laying next to his sitting form as he looks at it from time to time. It was a simple elimination, nothing more, nothing less, something he already did a thousand times since his beginning as a mercenary. He knew how immoral this job was, his parents kept on reminding him, but at least he could win his life the best he could.

He brings a cup of coffee to his lips and sighs after taking a sip. The song changes to a Beatles song.

He starts to reassemble his rifle with precision and professionalism, he is after all, a professional. Once his rifle was back in one piece, he took his stuff and went back inside his camper van, closing the door and letting the campfire slowly die in the cold badlands air.

He locks himself inside before removing his boots and climbing up on his makeshift bed, laying on it and observing the ceiling of his van. A few photos were glued to the little walls of his ‘bedroom’, some of his teammates, his parents, one childhood photo of him holding a wooden bow, and some animal pictures he took in the Australian Outback.

He picks up his pack of cigarette, takes one and lights it, opening the little window over his head. Taking a drag of it, he looks at some magazines he had next to his bed, a lot of animal and wildlife magazines, some guns and rifles ones and a two or three.. private ones. Maybe he could peek into those later.

Finishing his cigarette and crushing the end in his ashtray he yawns. Maybe he should have stayed with his colleagues for at least one game and a beer. They aren’t mean to him, he actually enjoys spending time with them, but sometimes they are a bit too much, too loud, too annoying.. He was just used to loneliness, even in battle when he stays nested up on a tower for sniping, he stays most of his time alone. And he likes it.. right?

With a final sigh he removes his brown pants and takes off his red shirt, tossing them down the floor of his camper van, leaving him in his white tank top and boxers to be more comfortable of the upcoming night of sleep he will certainly oversleep.

Being an assassin was indeed a good job, but sometimes it gets quite boring, alone with his thoughts. It’s the routine after all.

(*messieurs = gentlemen)

8 notes · View notes

mxbo · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! If it’s no trouble for you, could I request a little story about Sniper and a daughter reader? Just some wholesome family fluff ^^

Thanks so much in advance! No worries though if you’re swamped!

HELLO!! “No worries though if you're swamped” JHSHG THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST EVER, I'M SO EXCITED. And also nervous because I don't want to mess up (that's why I took 5 days to write this) (I wrote it, left it be for a couple of days, read it again, went like “wow this is garbage”, fixed it and THEN posted it).

The request was left a bit ambiguous, so I have a BUNCH of notes and then the little story (which is, btw, not the full length of what I wrote because I accidentally gave Sniper anxiety, so I cut that from the actual story because I feared it wasn't wholesome ahsjah) (if you see “…” in the middle of two paragraphs, yeah that was something that I cut out AHSHh). I REALLY DON'T WANT TO DISAPPOINT, I'M NOT CONFIDENT AT ALL WITH MY WRITING AND DIDN'T THINK I WOULD EVEN GET A WRITING REQUEST, I'M SORRY IF YOU DISLIKE EVEN ONE WORD *explodes*

[First picture: Carl from San Andreas with his hands on his head, except it's me saying “I forgot, I forgot how to write oh no”] [Second picture: Sponge Bob crying, except it's me saying “I promise I'll do better”]

SOME NOTES

English is not my first language, sorry if some things don't make sense TT (let me know if you see any mistakes pls!!)

My requests were mainly open for stamps, userboxes, blinkies and stuff like that, but I did say I'd share my writing if someone asked in my pinned post, so I only have myself to blame heh. And this was actually fun and I enjoyed it, so now I want to do more writing requests. Aka, they're open fr this time HEHE

You're Sniper's daughter, but the story is almost mainly told from the perspective of Sniper (still written in third person for him and second person for the reader, tho, it's just that the story follows Sniper's actions more because idk how to write from the POV of a kid)

I have family issues so if family interactions are portrayed inaccurately that's why, haha /hj

I wanted to write about how Sniper's daughter got to the base and THEN her interactions with the rest of the team, but I've been working on it for 5 days already. This is only the first half, how the reader got to the base TT [I'll continue it if you wish] AND AAAAH THE SECOND HALF IS WHERE I HAD PLANNED MOST OF THE FLUFF AND MOMENTS CATCHING UP WITH SNIPER AAAA (I'm so angry at myself)

CW: Not much, mentions of death because it's TF2 (nobody dies), and the word “fuck” is said like once, but that's it, can't think of anything major

More notes in the end because it's mostly not mentioned/doesn't matter/was cut from the final version

MEET THE SUNSHINE

“Yeah, Mum, I get it. I'll visit when I can,” he muttered.

“Your daughter misses you, you know,” his mum said.

Sniper sighed. “I know, Mum. But I take my job really seriously, and the battle hasn’t ended yet—”

“That battle has been going on for more than three years now!! And we decided you can’t just come home on holidays and expect us to raise your child the rest of the year.”

“We sent her to you” his dad interrupted, “She should be arriving any minute now.”

Sniper's eyes widened, and he nearly dropped the phone. “YOU DID WHAT!? THIS IS A BATTLEFIELD!!” He tried to argue.

They were his parents and he respected them a lot, always trying to get their approval, but were they actually crazy? What did they even consume to think that sending his own daughter, their own granddaughter, to New Mexico, alone, while there’s a fight currently happening there, is a good idea!?

“Oh, don’t worry about that, after speaking to your boss through a nice lady called… Miss Paula? Pauline? She assured us she’ll be safe.” No way Miss Pauling, one of the few people he —and everyone in the team, really— trusted. No fucking way.

Before he could process this bombshell, a commotion erupted outside his room. The “INTRUDER ALERT. BLU SPY IS IN THE BASE” alarm was set off, and it was followed by Soldier shouting “A BLU SPY IS IN THE BASE!?”.

He hung up, not even saying goodbye, because he had the feeling that wasn’t a BLU spy. Actually, he knew it wasn’t a BLU spy, chained to a respawn machine. He had to get to the entrance first and stop the other eight mercenaries from killing you.

…

“WAIT!” He shouted as he pushed Soldier to the side.

He wasn’t the only one in the room; Scout, Spy and Medic, who were faster than Sniper, were also there, also trying to explain to Soldier that this was a child, not a BLU spy.

“Sniper?” asked Spy, a bit curious about why he seemed so scared.

“That’s not a spy…” He said, trying to catch his breath.

“Yes, we figured,” Spy said before getting interrupted.

You slowly opened your eyes and removed your hands from your ears, seeing as the scary man with the big weapon directly pointing at you before didn’t fire and you didn’t explode.

“That’s my-”

You looked around and that’s when you see him! You didn’t get the directions the nice purple lady gave you wrong!!

“DAD!!” You scream as you run over to your dad and hug his legs.

As you squeeze his legs, finally seeing your dad after so long and feeling safe, he doesn’t know how to react.

“-daughter,” he finished his sentence. He’s so relieved you’re ok. He doesn’t know what he would have done if he had found you hurt or worse.

“No frickin’ way…” muttered the Scout.

Soldier, Spy, Medic and also Engie and Pyro, who entered the room after the Sniper, were just as confused as Scout. Well, maybe not Pyro, because it understood something completely different (one shudders to imagine what inhuman thoughts lie behind that mask). But the rest of them were, and, with their eyes, they asked for an explanation. Demanded, even, in Scout’s case, because he couldn’t fathom the idea of Sniper of all people to get a girl, potentially a wife, before him.

…

Scout sighed in relief hearing that Sniper did not, in fact, get a girl before him. That he had found you as a baby one day when returning home and adopted you.

Everyone else just nodded in understanding (Heavy, Pyro), asked him questions (Engie, Medic, Spy) or praised him for doing the correct thing and not leave you to starve (Spy, Soldier, Demo). All while you were drawing in a corner with a pen and paper your dad gave you.

You stopped drawing once your dad had finished talking and introducing you to his team. Maybe he would introduce them to you next!

This was going to be your home for a while, after all.

NOTES P.2

Timeline:

Three years into the gravel war (for the main group of mercenaries’ pov).

You were adopted roughly a year before Sniper was hired. Your adopted family doesn’t know your birthday, but they estimate you’re 4-5 y/o.

Fun fact: I was considering at first (aka the first five seconds of thinking about the request) making the daughter a teenager and then remembered Sniper is 27-ish here so uuuh, nope.

About Sniper in this AU:

He’s a good dad… the three or four times a year he can visit you.

He doesn’t want to be an absent dad, but he’s too dedicated to his job as an assassin for RED.

He tries to convince himself he’s not that absent because he cares about you, talks to you at lest once a week through the phone and makes sure your grandparents treat you correctly.

He wouldn’t have accepted RED’s offer if he had known this job would drag out for so long. He can’t quit now.

About his daughter (you!):

She/her as was requested :D

Not much else to say, you're 4-5 years old so you behave as one.

[Backstory, this is explained in detail during the actual story so spoilers hehe] You were found in a dumpster (sorry lmao) This was not, in fact, mentioned in the story above, so I'll just paste it here:

“

As he ran downstairs, his mind was flooded with images of how you came into his life, how he tried to raise you but had to go to this stupid war over a worthless piece of land. He thought it was ok, though, because once it was over he’d make up for the time he was away.

But he wouldn’t be able to do that if you died to one of his own teammates right now.

…

Mick was driving home after a long day under the hot Australian sun, a bit tired from hunting animals down all day but with a smile.

He did a small deviation to pass by a nearby gas station because the fuel gauge hovered dangerously close to empty.

Once the tank was full, he glanced at the convenience store and couldn’t resist grabbing something to eat for the rest of the long ride. He doesn’t remember what he bought, and it honestly doesn’t even matter.

As he was leaving the store, he heard a sound, apart from the flickering neon lights, and he stood there for a second trying to identify. Someone crying, high-pitched voice, coming from the side of the building. “From the side of the building? Next to the dumpster?” He thought.

And he was disgusted that he was right, that someone just got rid of a baby like that, but also glad he found you.

He didn’t know what to do, so he brought you home and asked his parents for help. They all came to the conclusion that they must have abandoned you after noticing that you didn’t grow a moustache like the rest. Mick saw himself on you because he also wasn’t born like most Australians. He remembered having a difficult time as a child trying to adapt without having any facial hair or Australia-shaped chest hair like the rest of the kids and, being an orphan? He knew your childhood would be even worse than his.

„

#tf2 sniper #child reader #female reader #team fortress 2 #tf2 #writing #i'm not paranoid at all about sharing this #request

17 notes · View notes

cannedsyrup · 4 months ago

Text

#female sniper #fem sniper #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 fanart #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 engineer #blu medic #red medic

80 notes · View notes

lubby-beez · 2 years ago

Text

I BET YALL DIDNT EXPECT LADIESS!!

Do let me know which one you like the most I’m Gen curious!!

#tf2 #spy tf2 #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 art #tf2 pyro #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #tf2 demoman #tf2 fanart #tf2 soldier #tf2 sniper #tf2 fem characters #tf2 female mercs #illustration

946 notes · View notes

popawritter12 · 2 months ago

Text

Yantober; First Day

Dream

"Even a dream is capable of make me know how much I love you"

I get up.

I always get up, but after that, i think, i think a lot, i think so much that my own mind is tired of all my thinking.

But, in this big space, there's something, outside all of the biology in the books o in the society in general, that i define like a Leech, a Leech that is clinged in my mind, using it's theet to take away all of my memories, all of the people, my achievements, my mistakes, all of them, just leaving one thing, one memory, the figure, the voice, everything... And it's you, you, you and only you.

And, also, i dream, mainly, about you. The night before i dreamed i haved you in my arms, both of us in a bed, clinging into each other, covered in a silk sheet, and in that dream, i felt my mind get a rest of everything, all of my thinking, all of my worries, all of my plans, minimizing all of my pain like it never existed, and just left the both of us, both, in that silk sheet, our silk sheet.

But then, two questions appear in my mind, why do I felt like everything just fades away? Why everyone just left my side, but you stay? I don't understand, and, mostly, i have fear, a lot of fear thinking about how progressively and irreversible line of thoughs just disappear in the void, in my head, leaving just a part of nothing.

And I still getting up, and every fucking day is most disappointing that the before. Most of the days I want to swallow sleeping pills, just to be capable of taking you in my arms one more time. But the little of my sanity remains tell me that is just too fucking pathetic do that thing, telling me that I can't be that desesperate just for a fantasy, a fantasy that I am able to bring to reality if I try hard enough.

But i can't just not waking up, and just for open my eyes, for feeling the sun irrumping all of my fantasies make me feel so miserable that I just can do one thing, again and again and again; think about you.

The best of my days were when I see you; every comment give me so mucho happyness to my days that just reaffirms the same feeling that I have every day; I need you in my life, I need you here, with me, and you have me here, with you. A kiss, a hug or anything, just give me something of you.

But, all of the good things had and end, and the end of all my happiness appear in the form of that man. I see him, bringing its unpleasant presence to us, but especially, to you, talking like everything in him is good, like if everything is actually good. And I felt that hate appear in my mind like always I see him, ah, that beautiful and inevitable feeling.

That feeling is the unique feature is the first and only thing that triggers me about you; Im just too selfish to accept that anybody could talk to you, taking you, hug you, or anything. But at the same time, Im too shy to told you how much I love you, and in the previous moment of you giving me a kiss with that sweetness of yours, and telling me how much do you actually love me, just to finally reaffirm, that I I fulfilled my mission. v

And his laugh invades my ears again, with his comments ---The same you pretend to laugh in order to keep afloat a friendship that it's not that worth it--- that are just too fucking boring, make me felt tired, and even if I try to even deny it, it's because he's invading you, your space, with his touch, with his presence. And no, there's no form in this world or universe to make me not hate him, even if you fade away from his life, I will stay hating on him.

But no, you have to pretend that everything is okay, even if he's touching you, taking you, kissing you, I know who you are, I know what you do, I know that you are just pretending. And by a pair of streets, I had the feeling of hate in the bottom of my heart, trying to take all of my feelings and suppressing them until everything is over. And then I have the question, and I know that you have the answer, what the fuck are you doing? And Why are you doing it?

I can't just implore to you to stop, and I know that doing that just gonna spoil everything, and even with all of the pain in my heart, I know that I had to wait, to wait for you, to wait for your action.

Both of you enter the building, and start walking to the elevator, and one more time, that felt of hate just make me felt worst, making me think that... I just need to kill him. Even with every step I climbed, that thought was only stronger and stronger, making my hands shake, trying to supress all of my feelings in my arms, so tense that they seemed on the verge of breaking. And soon, i arrived to the floor that you were, trying to open the door with enthusiasm. With his hand in your hip, in your body.

Everything in my mind starts to overthrow, and when you opened the door of that room, I just could think about... how my own world start to collapse. Piece by piece, everything goes, leaving nothing, and eventually, There's nothing, just you, you and the hand of him in your body, a smile in your face while you open that door, ready to getting with this man, with this garbage, ready to ruin all of my efforts and mistakes to having you in my arms.

Both of you get into the room, the door barely supported in the frame, just to make all of the people know that both of you were in that room. The laughs mixed with heavy sighs make a symphony of the end of the world, the end of my world. I could barely walk, I barely reached the door, and I barely heard his mundane and rude whispers against your skin, only one reaction was possible in me: burst inside.

That leech finally had sucked all the sanity I had left out of me, all of them, there's nobody, there's no you, there's no love, there's no "us", there's just hate, in the form of that man, in that person with the playful smile, and with his awful comments going out of that fucking mouth.

And in a matter of seconds, the entire atmosphere twisted around, just leaving a body beneath me, with his blood in my hands, and his disfigured face crashing against the skin of my knuckles. I am not even capable of hear your screams, I couldn't even focus on your reaction to this wrong action, because, finally, my anger had overcome my love for you, and there was nothing left but sharp blows against a face contorted in agony.

I don't even remember how much time has passed until I stopped, but I remember that I stopped, I remember so well how he took his last breaths and moans, and I remember how he left this world, with his eyes swollen from the tears that mixed with the blood on the ground, with his attempts at breathing so irregular that it seemed like his lungs were beginning to fail, and how his eyes, filled with a fear so characteristic of someone about to die, turned a dead white.

And that memory stuck so firmly in my mind that it often resembled the trauma of failure, the mistake I had made solely and exclusively out of uncontrolled hatred, like if I was a dog releasing stress on a toy.

I couldn't come back, I couldn't even try to get me back of this moment, to get back that part of me that was previously only consumed by love, by my love for you, by all of you.

But I had to look up, and I did it; only to be met with a meeting of your lips against mine so soft yet so desperate, that my heart began to beat again, not from hatred for someone ---not for their previous death, but for their mere existence in your life--- but for you, for you and nothing but you.

And then, I wake up again.

His screams were heared in the middle of the place, echoing off the grey, old walls like an ambient noise, an annoying and unbearable one. I was upset for obvious reasons, and mainly, he was so peaceful when he slept in his chair, wrapped tenderly in ropes, that I thought about leaving him like that forever! Asleep, rested, and unable to resist my request, as kind as it was to get him out of your life.

But no, obviusly no, of course that an idiot will always be an idiot, and especially someone who was stupid enough to allow himself to be taken from his bed to any other place without any preventive measures against it.

But, as I learned so well from life, I knew I had made a mistake, not as serious as allowing you to see what I really am of course, but a mistake in any way. A mistake I swore I would never repeat again.

And that mistake was simple; fantasizing about having you when I could make a kiss of yours in mines come true if only I stopped letting myself be carried away by dreams that eat away at pieces of my sanity. Those eaten away pieces could be saved if only I stopped sleeping, stopped dreaming about you, only and exclusively to make each and every one of my thoughts I ever had about you come true, you and your existence, you and your feelings, you and only you.

Characters! That could be used in this story;

League of Legends:

-Ahri

-Akali

-Akshan

-Caitlyn

-Darius

-Diana

-Ekko

-Ezreal

-Fiora

-Gangplank

-Garen

-Graves

-Irelia

-Jarvan IV

-Jayce

-Kai'sa

-Karma

-Hwei

-Sett

-Vi

MGRR:

-Raiden

Team Fortress 2:

-Scout

-Medic

-Sniper

Stardew Valley:

-Alex

-Haley

-Gunther

Devil May Cry:

-Nero.

16 notes · View notes