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lilies-n-slander · 7 months ago

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Hazbin Hotel would be so much more interesting if charlie’s naïveté and surface-level kindness were treated as the actual flaws they are and didn’t work. Heads up, this kinda just turned into a text wall of charlie neg and ranting so don’t read if you don’t want to see that.

How she currently is, she just doesn’t make that much sense in the setting. I’ve seen ppl say that charlie is a fresh take and contrasts the edginess, but I just don’t see how she is possible. You’re telling me she’s been in hell for 200 yrs but still has this childish and naive personality, is still disgusted by the sinners being cannibalistic, violent, and even just horny, and is so detached from those she calls “her people”? She was born in hell, shouldn’t that make her more used to the sinners’ depravity and not less? She doesn’t seem to have a good grasp on what the sinners want or how they behave. It would make more sense if the show leaned into the toxic positivity white savior nepo baby angle (or rather, actually portrayed it as a *bad* thing) and rather than naïveté, her ignorance was out of self-centeredness and/or lack of true empathy for the other sinners. She would be more interesting as a character too imo.

She looks down on the other sinners (and honestly so does the show?? When she’s showing lucifer around and introduces him to her friends, they’re framed as unappealing as a joke… these are the characters the audience is also supposed to care about.. and many of the bg chars, such as the cannibal town residents, are portrayed as simple-minded brutes), there’s a lot of condescending “….ooookay” type of lines and she constantly has to think of nice ways to frame the clearly negative things she thinks about others. So why does she want to save them so much? The more reasonable explanation is a sense of white savior-ness than actually caring about them.

She’s eager to excuse whatever sir pentious did (which I’m assuming she doesn’t know?) and let him in, despite how he makes the other residents (including her own gf!) uncomfortable. And yes I say excuse, because she never inquires about his past sins or discussed him repenting. It seems to start with sorry, but also end with sorry too. This could’ve been made interesting if she simultaneously looked down on but also excused all sorts of heinous acts. Like val is the most openly manipulative and scummy character, he licks her arm, and yet she’s still apologetic about ruining things (Side note, if she’s genuinely apologetic, then she’s actually an idiot because why is she talking to the boom-mic employee *while they’re filming???*).

She doesn’t know what she’s doing and has no concrete plan but gets incredulous at ppl who don’t blindly trust her. Angel has to leave in ep 4 and she gets SO frustrated over it, like you seriously expect everyone to drop all of their other commitments for you? She has her webster definition notecards for the meeting with heaven and has to improvise and rely on angel being good at the club but she gets mad that lucifer isn’t 100% behind her plan?

Also, trust falls? Really? Then she goes “why isn’t this working? We’ve tried everything!” But on that note, the actual episode portrayal is kinda exactly what I’m going for. Not only do the trust falls not work, charlie says, “I love all of you so much,” pulls her puppy eyes, and only vaggie catches her. It’s surface level and shallow, and does not win anyone else over.

In contrast, vaggie’s attempt at building trust, throwing everyone into a battle, *actually works* (despite vaggie only being in hell for 3 years and being heaven-born, she already knows how things work better than charlie!) and yet charlie talks about it as though it already failed. She says “we work best as a team,” with the underlying message being “I can’t trust you to do things on your own.”

If she was waiting so long to reconnect with lucifer, then why hasn’t she called him in years?? Altho I’m currently rotating lucifer in my brain so I might be a bit biased

“If angels can do whatever and stay in the sky” they can’t?? Your dad is RIGHT there. I. What

She has a power dynamic with every other character except lucifer since she has her demon powers, not to mention she’s giving them a place to stay. When vaggie says she appreciates that charlie doesn’t use her powers, charlie doesn’t say “it wouldn’t be right,” she says it would be too *mean.* But if someone pushes her buttons, who’s to say they wouldn’t slip out (see her flip on a dime after val hits angel. Obv it’s justified in this case, but it shows that she’s willing to use her powers on sinners)? Again, it would be interesting if the show actually leaned into this angle. Imagine if she put on a nice front, never swore, seemed genuinely touching and understanding, but the second someone annoys her she annihilates them and becomes threatening and violent. Then she turns around and is nice again. Too much like alastor? idk

Also, many characters refer to her by calling her lucifer’s daughter, so clearly ppl know that if they cross her they’ll face his wrath by proxy (this also fits in thematically with what lute tells her in the first episode, that she’s exempt from the exterminations bc nepotism privilege). So realistically, everyone else would be a bunch of sucking-up yes-men bc they’re afraid of her. Which they kind of are when push comes to shove?

At first, she doesn’t help at all during the war and lets everyone else fight for her. Doesn’t want to get her hands dirty ig, even though all of this was caused by her in the first place. She only starts fighting at vaggie’s urging.

Like husk points out, every meeting charlie has with the angels makes things worse for all the sinners. Despite lucifer’s warnings that the meeting with heaven won’t work, and against vaggie saying to calm down, charlie basically picks a fight with heaven at the risk of *everyone else EXCEPT HER.*

What were charlie and lilith doing to stop the exterminations before lilith took her 7 year leave? Hell, what was charlie doing during those 7 years? Why does she have 0 connections outside of vaggie, who she only met 3 yrs ago? Why does she have to introduce herself to rosie, rather than her already knowing her name?

Also in ep 7 she says to alastor “I can’t believe how you can do exactly what you told me you would do!” (standing by and watching everyone fail at redemption) almost like she wasn’t paying attention to him at all.

“Why would vaggie hide that she was an exterminator” -> Rosie asks “how did that make you feel?” “It made me mad and doubt if she loves me” like I get it, it was a betrayal, but IS she stupid

Ready For This is charlie manipulating a town of ppl to join the army. Her pitch includes “on the way to the hotel the scenery is nice and you can make friends :3” and “have you ever wanted to die for a cause? Notably I myself am spared from being killed but uh that’s your problem.” Alastor pipes in that you can eat the angels and that’s what actually moves the crowd, because he understands them.

Her perspective on violence and where she chooses to draw the line is really confusing. Why does she care about sinners being violent to each other if they’ll just respawn? She stops alastor from beating up sir pentious at an arbitrary point, but is fine with him eating and presumably killing the gangsters who come after mimzy. (Edit: forgot to point out yet another example, that she was fine with vaggie tossing sir pentious and angel off the balcony but stops her from tossing niffty as well for no reason.) Why is she so apologetic to the angels actively killing sinners but was distraught over vaggie having partaken? Why was she opposed to the CANNIBALS being eager to eat the angels and saying “idk, they seem kinda murder-y” WHAT. What? I’m struggling to even begin to describe how ignorant that is during a WAR. What did she think was going to happen, that she wouldn’t have to fight anyone herself? Why did she stop her dad from killing Adam but doesn’t react strongly to Niffty finishing the job? If it mattered so much to her, the lack of reaction seems strange to me.

Isn’t it just so poetic that her weapon in the war is a shield that she uses exclusively on herself, which she hardly even needs due to her contractual immunity?

Why doesn’t she think to use her powers to build and maintain the hotel? That doesn’t require any violence or domineering. Yet when lucifer comes over it’s run-down and falling apart. Or ask lucifer to help her build it? She was concerned that asking for the meeting with heaven was such a big ask—why not start with this small thing? Father-daughter bonding.

Why does the show end w lucifer + the sinners congratulating her, and in particular, rebuilding the hotel? Hell doesn’t know that sir pentious got redeemed, so from their pov charlie’s idea didn’t work at all.

Can you tell that I’m writing this while I’m rewatching the show?

Aaand that’s that. Her char has always come off to me as somewhat condescending/fake, but I keep finding more and more things to dislike about the way she’s been written. Unfortunate. Honestly tho I might enjoy watching her more if I read her through this lens. You could probably write a similar post for most/all other chars in the show, limited only by the amount of screentime they get lmao

#ps it would have made a bit too much sense for the character fucking named ANGEL to be redeemed at the end of the season #he was the one charlie was making her entire case about in ep 6 #like sir pentious was never brought up #and angel was one of the ogs of the hotel #and had ep 4 #but ig the show thought better of it #rewatching the pilot and angel would’ve been so much more interesting ;u; he’s so one-note now…#hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel #meta #charlie morningstar neg #honestly with lucifer as my blorbo I probably shouldn’t be shittalking charlie #he’d annihilate me #sorry man I just want your daughter to have a bit more confidence… yeah that’s it #.txt

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shaarlslec · 2 years ago

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me and the devil

words: 6717

introduction/part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5

warnings/notes: charles leclerc x reader, friends to enemies to lovers type of a thing, blood, slow burn!!

inspired by: Soap&Skin - Me And The Devil, The Neighborhood - Afraid, The Academic - Why Can’t We Be Friends?, lovelytheband - i like the way, The Wombats - Turn , Wallows - Pleaser

masterlist

“I meant every touch, always.” Charles nodded, placing his forehead on yours for your breaths to meet, both hot and heavy, both lusting to be cut by a clash of mouths.

Three hurried knocks to your door made your spine shiver ten minutes after Charles left the room, “I told you I don’t want to ta-” You annoyingly roughly shouted, thinking about the hopeful likelihood that Charles turned on his way back to your door.

Hopeful, that was what your mind was when it came to him, and yet the mouth muttered quite the opposite. Get out, leave – your coping mechanism was showing, always avoiding talking to him about this matter of feelings, always wanting him to leave when all you really sought was for you both to beg the other to stay and figure things out.

And yet, the voice echoing at the other side of the door was not Charles’, “It’s me.” Your manager said in a worried tone, “Are you dressed?” They asked, wide opening the door after your affirmative loud response, “We need to go.” They uttered, making your eyebrows frown in confusion as their tone altered.

“What happened?”

“Disciplinary meeting.” They simply replied, and your blood started to boil.

You disobeyed the team; you know that obviously they were going to grouch you – but could have not they waited for another day or two? Winning the race, taking the first spot in the championship and almostkissing Leclerc was enough for you that day to burst into flames or at least to shut yourself from the world that day, and now you had to deal with this bullshit disciplinary meeting as well.

It went exactly how you would have expected it. You, your manager, and part of your team standing face to face with the team principal and the head strategists alongside with your race engineer and Xavi. Them, congratulating you for your win and thanking you for grabbing important points for the team, and right after that keeping you accountable for your disobedience.

“You cannot pull these moves on us, Y/N.” Fred said, and although you knew how good of a human he is – everyone feared Charles’ words over his. Your team principal had to do his job, Fred was not allowed to let his drivers kill each other on or outside the track. And yet, you were angry – you have been angry for quite some time, and they were all about to witness that type or range that comes from a woman sick of being told by men what to do.

“But Leclerc can.” You simply clearly and coarsely spoke back to him, “It is okay when your first driver does it, but God forbid I do it too.” You almost spit in between your teeth, causing a grimace on Fred’s face.

You knew you were putting him in a very uncomfortable position, but that was a spot in which Ferrari placed you for two whole years. You needed some sort of revenge, you were only sorry that Fred and the others who were not Charles Leclerc had to go through it – to feel your range, to see your darkened face and to hear your untamed tone. And yet, they helped Charles, they cheered for their “predestined”, and they were the ones who collectively ruined him before Leclerc has decided to turn into the devil.

“Whatever is going on in between you and Char—” Fred begun, and yet his words failed by being cut short.

“Nothing is going on.” You sharply spoke, looking somewhere anywhere else in the conference room and not at him and the people you were disappointing now with your unforgiving insolence. You are turning into me, Charles said. Were you ready to embrace that idea? You pondered that thought, switching glares from one person to the other within your team that were apologizing without words but just enduring eyes. Were you ready to give them hell just as Charles has been doing for the past years? How much was their fault and how much was Leclerc’s? Was the devil made or born? Your chest ached, millions of thoughts rushing through your mind – all about him.

“I hate to bring this up, Y/N.” Fred kept on going, “Your contract ceases at the end of the season.” He almost warned, perfect – another person at Ferrari threatening you, “We would like to extend it for another two.” Your team principal breathed, “That is if you do not cause any more trouble.” Fred highlighted, and you could hear Charles’ words as if they were sitting on the tip of Fred’s tongue.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in, “What if I told you that I was not able to hear the radio coming in?” You spoke, glare on your race engineer now, “What if I told you that from now on, I am choosing what to hear or not? What are you going to do? Kick me out and replace me with someone else?” You intoned, fingers jabbed on the desk’s edges all tensed up in anger, “Hire yet another driver to be Leclerc’s bitch?” You added, widening all eyes in the room including your manager’s, “I would like to see you try.” You then wrecked, and you loathed yourself at that moment for sounding just like him, for rolling your tongue in the same way as him as you spoke the words, for rousing the same type of fright as Charles Leclerc.

“You are not—”

“You are treating me like I am.” You replied, eyes back on Fred who dared to talk, “Let us race fairly – and you will see who deserves the title of being your first driver.” You exhaled, relaxing your muscles underneath their looks.

Charles was not called into the meeting, though your teammate was very much aware of it happening. He was the one who told Xavi that he needed solutions, and Xavi was more than edger to provide them to him even if they were not the ones to be executed on track. Xavi had its influence within the team, acting like a shadow of Charles whenever the Monegasque had to solve politics. Xavi called for the disciplinary meeting, and Fred was more than edger to not upset his preferent race engineer and driver – the whole team was.

Leclerc’s engineer stood quiet the whole time as you and Fred spoke, mentally noting all the details so they can be shared with Charles. You were aware of that happening, that is why during the meeting your looks would fix Xavi’s the most, as if Charles was watching through the engineer’s eyes. Fierce, unbothered, and ready for whatever Charles was scheming next. You already beat him at his own game on the track, how long will it take until you crack him open outside of it too?

You left the conference room angrier than you had entered it, announcing in a hurried rush towards the accommodation’s exit that you needed to be alone. No celebrations for tonight regards your win, no other interviewers, and no media presence around you. You wanted to clear your head and you knew exactly the way to do it – you were just hopping for no one to remember Charles’ answer to the first question about you during the quiz.

Your teammate watching you leave from afar after Xavi rushed to him and spilled the beans in a mouthful, seeing your poor worried manager trying to keep up with you but giving up once you reached the exit.

Leclerc watched you from one of the windows as you went in your car and heavily pressed the acceleration, zooming out of the parking lot in meters of seconds. That was enough time for Charles to dial one of your very well-known common friends, and family.

“I need you to do something for me.” Charles spoke, and he could basically already envision Arthur’s eyes rolling through the highs of Heaven and then back into the pits of Hell, “It is about Y/N.”

Arthur softly breathed at the end of the call, “What did you do now?” His brother asked, moving further from the group of friends who were celebrating his P6 in today’s race at one of the bars downtown, “Forget that – you are not going to tell me anyways. What do you want me to do, then?” Arthur intoned, knowing very well that no matter how bad Charles fucked up towards you, he was not going to be the one to whom his older brother admits.

Charles’ ego was too gigantic for that, and Arthur was not planning on touching that. You were what was important, little Leclerc was more than edger to help especially after you were not returning any of his congratulatory texts that afternoon after the race.

“I will send you a short list of restaurants that I think Y/N is heading too now.” Charles spoke as he watched your car completely disappear form his sight now, “Meet with her, she needs a friend.” Charles bittersweetly spoke, knowing damn well that he would have preferred for that friend to be him, “No matter how much she will say that she is fine and that she does not need someone to talk to – she does.” Charles pinpointed, remembering all the times when you called for him after something has happened to you, good or bad.

And yet, the circumstances were not allowing Leclerc’s wish to become true. He was the reason Fred threatened you with the termination of your contract, how stupid of him with it be to want to comfort you?

Arthur took a glance over his group of friends, “I am with someone now – why can’t you be there for her if you think she needs a fri-” Arthur stopped at the end of the sentence, friends was not exactly the word to describe your relationship now. Not never, Arthur speedily thought, “Ok then, what do you want me to tell her?” He added, fingers pressing on the ends of his forehead.

“Tell her that –” Charles paused, not finding himself honest to speak the truth to even his brother. She is brave, and fearless, and nothing like me – and I am half of a man for wanting to deprive her of what she truly deserves due to the greediness that lays so still inside my being. That her happiness subjugates mine, and that I have yet to learn how to come to terms with that to not get scorched at the end of it all. Neither she nor I.

“That what?” Arthur annoyingly asked, being feed up already by Charles’ pause that had to be taken for his brothers’ train of thought to derail from its route, “Come on Charles, I do not have all day to argue with you over the phone.”

“That she needs to keep her distance.” Leclerc lied, thinking about what just happened minutes ago and then back in the hotel room – about how much he would have wished to kiss you and touch you, and to convince yourself and him that it was not just for the fun of the game but to tame unspoken long-awaited longings, “On track, I mean.” Charles clarified, and he could feel Arthur’s smile over the huff at the end of the call.

“You are so insufferable.” He spoke, “But then again, like I said – I don’t have all day to argue with you. Send me the restaurants, I must go and get your girl since you are such a scaredy-cat.” Arthur argued, pressing the end of the call on the screen before Charles even got the chance to mutter something back to his brother.

“Y/N is not my gi—” Charles has begun, the phone’s screen returning to normal before he got to finish his sentence. My girl, Charles had to recognize that had a great sound to it – only if you were not the girl he was fighting on track.

Arthur was surprised to find you exactly where Leclerc has indicated. The first two restaurants that the little brother went to were unsuccessful, and yet the third one was just the right one: a hidden Parisian sort of a boutique right across the corner of an unnamed street in the heart of the city. Charles knew your post-race rituals, but you were not expecting him to remember the names of the ones you frequently visited. And yet, Charles did – he has been always paying the best of attention to your rambles when you were getting along and hang out together after your races in cities you happened to be at the same time.

“Why do you like these tiny God-forgotten places so much?” Charles would ask when you first took him to one of the hidden-gem restaurants you found back in Azerbaijan after one of your F2 races during your what was your winning championship.

“First of all,” You excitedly begun as you went through the menu’s pages, “These places have the best food you could taste in the entire city. They usually have ten to twelve recipes that they perfect – and they are cheap as well.” You intoned, finger pointing to one of your favorite deserts, “Second, the staff is really nice, and you don’t have to be worried about people recognizing you and asking for autographs.” You pinpointed, glaring over the space to see only two table occupied beside the one at which you and Leclerc stood at.

“Oh, I see, you are right – you would not want for people to recognize you all the time when you are going to be the most well-loved driver on the grid.” Charles argued, scooping through the menu with big curious eyes.

You chuckled, “I was not speaking about me, Charles.” You paused, relaxing into your seat as you were watching him, “I am talking about you – il Predestinado.” You teased, loving how everyone was catching more and more that nickname for him after his Monza win, “In a few years or so when we come back to this city and you will be the one to restore Ferrari’s legacy back into its place, everyone will want a photo or an autograph from you – I am thinking ahead.”

Charles stopped his search through the menu’s words, “Do you really think so?” He buoyantly asked, and that was one of the times in which you saw the hope that faded from the irises of the boy’s eyes being replaced with anger and greed.

You gently cupped Charles’ wrist into your hand, “I know so.” You affirmatively answered as you rubbed your thumb across the back of the boy’s hand, “Don’t worry, you will do just fine.” You added, retracting your hand from his right when Charles turned his to cup yours within the hold of his fingers that were now just brushing against each other. You placed yours back into your lap, and he reminded still for a while with his fingers longing for yours.

Charles nodded, “I was not joking tough,” The man begun, eyes on yours that were awkwardly paying attention to your lap rather than him as you were rubbing your hands together now in nervousness, “You are going to be the most well-loved driver on the gird once you get your rightful seat.” Charles intoned, “You have this loving heart and pure intentions, and everyone can see that.”

You chuckled, turning your glare on him now, “What’s best?” You wondered with your hands now back on the table catching Charles’ glare on them, wondering exactly what Charles was thinking in the back of his mind – that was to catch your hand into his, “To be the most well-loved driver or the most feared one?”

Charles contemplated your words for a bit, both of you knowing well where he stood at that time. His name representing the hope that all fans had for Ferrari’s return, everyone loving his humbleness and softness.

“The most loved one, for sure.” Charles finally spoke as he released a heavy breath of air from between his ruddy lips, “Why would you want people to fear you?” He simply asked as his fingers turned the pages of the menu not seeing you smile at the other side of the table before you whispered a short Yes, you are right – you are always right.

Turns out, Charles is not always right. You said now in the back of your mind, years later and alone at what was a very similar table in an alike restaurant. You wanted to understand him, you really did so. Where did the sweet and caring Charles that you knew went? Where did his compliments and wise words vanish? And – was all of it worth it? You shook your head as the waitress places your drink in front of you, snatching away from a conversation that now seemed to be one from a faraway time and from another world.

“Hello gorgeous.” A voice similar of the one ponding in your mind resounded, and yet quite not the same.

You lifted your glare from the table, “Arthur, what are you do—” You paused with a dry throat, “Don’t tell me Charle—” You stopped again, but not because you could not find your words but because Arthur was the one to interrupt them.

“No, no, no.” The little Leclerc announced you as he slid at the table on the seat across yours, “I was with a couple of friends downtown and I saw you through that little window,” Arthur spoke, pointed out what was indeed a little framed window at the end of the restaurant through which it would have been very improbable that you could have been spotted inside. Yet, you were not in the mood to argue with yet another Leclerc, “Do you mind if I sit?” He questioned with care.

Yes. “No,” You spoke, I want to be alone, “I could use a drinking buddy.” You playfully placed your words, ordering another of the same drink you were having for Arthur, watching him enthusiastically clapping both of his hands together after congratulation you on your win today and scolding you for not answering his texts.

Ten minutes after chit-chatting with Arthur and you realized that you, in fact, never wanted to be alone. You needed someone to talk to about what happened today at Ferrari, and someone who understood how fucked up of a situation that was. Also, someone who knew Charles Leclerc as you did – in some matters, even better. You ranted; Arthur was more than keen to listen.

“Where that leaves me now, I ask you.” You gasped throwing your hands in the air, “I shall behave and act like a good lieutenant for your brother just because he demands that so from the team?”

“No, most definitely not.” Arthur replied, what was with you and taking advice from the Leclerc brothers, anyway?

“That is exactly what I thought.” You added, ordering few more drinks with the idea of getting wasted that evening and yet knowing that Arthur was not quite the man to hold his liquor – neither were you.

“He is troubled now, Y/N.” Arthur gently spoke, thinking about all the times where he saw his brother deep in thoughts regarding the season, racing but mostly especially the ones about you, “Having his hand forced by you might be exactly what he needs as a wake-up call regarding his goals.” Arthur added with softness in his eyes, “I love my brother, but Charles cannot keep this persona for too long – he is too good of a human for that, even if now it might seem like he forgot that.”

You nodded, “I know.” I love him too, you would have wanted to say. Instead, you took a deep breath in, “Enough about me, what is going on with you?” You smiled, wanting to keep your head away from Charles even for a bit now that Arthur was the one standing in front of you, “P6 today in a McLaren! That’s huge.” You winked, patting the man’s shoulder across the table, “You are really planning on getting them back on track.”

Arthur’s eyes rolled, “That is if they were not so stubborn in praising Norris so fucking much.”

You laughed, the on-track banter in between Arthur Leclerc and Lando Norris was the next best thing that excited people during this season besides you and Charles. For the next couple of hours, you talked shit with Arthur – you loved to talk shit with him, you two had always been gossiping besties. Besides that, you drank way too much for both of your own good during all the talk.

Hours passed, evening was now gone, and the city was covered in full-blown darkness split by the streets’ illuminating system. You decided to walk back to the hotel you and Arthur were both staying in by foot to dozen off the alcohol, and that happened to be one long excruciating trip back.

And yet, you loved every single piece of it. Charles was right, although you were not to know what they two talked. You needed a friend, you needed someone to talk to, and Arthur was just right for the job.

You laughed until your stomached pained by the time you made it to the hotel, telling stories about your junior years and making impressions of anyone you could not stand on the grid (current or not).

“Change your fucking car.” Arthur intoned, and you could not help yourself but not to laugh as he was imitating Horner’s voice.

“What a troubled man.” You said in between your chuckles, “Remember that one time when he was riding a horse and his wife said something about the horse being Bottas?”

“Bottas would eat Horner alive.” Arthur almost shouted, and you mimicked a short “shh” to him as you found yourselves at the entrance of the hotel, “We need to behave, little one.” You mumbled, your words as well as your feet stumbling as you were trying to look normal for the people at the reception desk to not figure out that you were simply wasted.

“Ok here, here,” Arthur spoke, taking your shoulder within one of his arms to stabilize both of your bodies, “You walk right, and I walk left.” He drunkenly explained, “In this way, our bodies will lean on each other, and we will look like we are walking in a straight line.” Arthur further clarified, erupting in laughter as the plan was not making any sense.

People at the reception desk were already staring at you from inside, knowing damn well that you two were not sober. They rubbed shoulders, and one of them even took their phone out to take a picture of you.

“Imagine that” They whispered, “Y/N arm in arm with Charles’ brother – they must be complotting against him, or are they having an affair behind his back?” They proudly spoke, almost shooting the shot before his phone was snatched from his hands by the one, they were so proudly talking about.

“I can assure you that both of your theories are utterly wrong.” Charles spoke with a grim on his face, “Not a word about this.” He threatened, placing the phone back on the counter with dreadful eyes, “Now will you be a dear and pretend you have something else to do in the back with your colleague?” Charles harshly intoned while switching glares in between the two employees who were perplexedly looking at him staring back at them as if he was going to do heavily damage right then and there, stepping away from the reception desk to go outside through the sliding doors and meet you two: his dear brother and his girl.

Charles had heard your laughs from the first floor where he occupied whole for himself and his crew. Frankly, the man has not gotten that much sleep due to the events during the day and once he had heard that you were not in want of a celebration for that evening, he knew you will spend most of the evening with Arthur. That made him worry in ways he was unable to elucidate. Charles’ fear was for the evening not to turn into the night, and for you not to search comfort in the arms he pushed you in without any of your knowledge. Therefore, Charles stood awake, and he waited by the widow for you to come back. Kinda stalk-ish, maybe Arthur was right. Oh, how Charles disliked being lectured by his little brother.

Arthur was the one to first glance at his brother at the entrance while you were clinging to the man’s chest with your eyes pressed together in tears due the laughter evoked. But then, when you heard Arthur’s little “oh” and felt his chest lifting in a sigh, you followed his glare and meet Charles coming towards you.

“Oh,” You muttered too, laughter ceasing to exist as you frowned at your teammate, “You again.” You spoke as soon as Charles was able to hear your words.

“Looks like you are having fun,” Charles said looking down at Arthur’s hand now cupping yours for better stability, “Acting like teenagers in front of people who can and will recognize you.” Charles scolded, and you could visibly see Arthur’s vein popping up at the edges of his forehead.

“Oh look Y/N, dad is here.” Arthur spoke in a harsh tone, and that was for the first time you and Charles exchanged a short, worried glare. Arthur was wasted, even more wasted that you were. And perhaps, that was the only time when he would ever joke about that. Charles let out a sigh, and you slightly shook your head with the idea of sobering up a little bit – you only done yourself worse.

You patted the Arthur’s chest, unclasping your hand from his, “Come on, let’s get you into your room.” You mouthed, acting as if Charles was not even standing two feet away from you.

“Let me take care of that.” Charles interviewed, grabbing Arthur from one of his shoulders so he could depart him from you. Yet, Arthur was reluctant of the idea as he snatched away his shoulder from Leclerc’s grip and tightening even harder the arm that was around you, fingers gripping into your skin with such force that it almost hurt you.

“No, I want Y/N to do it.” Arthur replied, stepping away from Leclerc and grabbing you with him too without any warning causing a harsh balance of your feet.

Charles was quick to react to that too. His hand went immediately on your back, as Arthur’s arm was still locking your shoulders but was unable to react stumbling on his feet as well. Your teammate annoyingly breathed, so close that you were able to feel him on your face and to engage in the man’s scent.

“Your room, now.” Charles spoke, one step away from you now as you regained your balance, “We have a plane to catch in four hours straight to Monaco, you need to sober up.” He added, eyes still on his brother’s grip on you.

Arthur laughed, “You were the one to send me to her – now you don’t want to see us together?” He added in a mockery tone, “Fuck, make up your mind brother.” He added, loosening the strength of his arm around you, letting you out of the grab underneath Charles’ attentive glare.

You shifted away – from both. Crossing your arms at your chest, switching glares from Charles to Arthur and then back on Charles, and with your mind intoxicated with alcohol, you were unable to control your anger anymore.

“So, you lied to me.” You calmly first spoke, pointing your finger to Arthur, “I knew you did lie from the moment you sat at the table, but covering for your brother after knowing what he had the team do today and pretending like you really wanted to be there for me?” You huffed, squinting your eyes at him, “Do any of you even care about me at all?” You asked, eyes fixing Charles now, “Or is this just some sort of a twisted game of throwing ball that you two like to play with people?”

Arthur was the one to speak while Charles remined silent, “Of course, of course, of course we do care – I mean, I do.” The younger Leclerc spoke, taking both of your hands in his, “You were not answering my texts, so all Charles was doing was to help me get a hold of you.”

Rolling his eyes, Charles’ mouth opened to speak, “Do not listen to him, Y/N – it was not like that.”

Your hands were left empty in the air now as Arthur turned to his brother, “Are you really going to tell her the truth or what?” Arthur provocatively spoke, “Do you want me to do that as well instead of you?” Arthur added, and you were more than edger to hear Charles’ response to that inquiry but sadly, as you were expecting for him to act, Charles became avoidant of the question and now only – your teammate eluded your looks as much as he could do so in the presence of a very pissed off little brother.

“Like I said,” Charles paused, placing one of his hands on Arthur’s shoulder to snatch him even further from you and closer to the hotel’s entrance, “Let’s get you to your room, Arthur – we are leaving tom –” Charles repeated, but his sentence was unable to be finished as Arthur took a bold move of punching his brother right in the face.

A loud thump as Arthur’s fist slammed Charles’ jaw, and one heavy breath coming from Arthur after realizing what he has done, “Don’t act like you can control anything and everything at once.” Arthur advised, fires coming from the youngest Arthur’s eyes towards his brother, “Grow the fuck up, brother.” He spoke, untensing his fist.

You gasped before covering your mouth with both of your palms; Charles seemed to be unfazed by Arthur’s swift move, “You are drunk, brother.” He added in a soft tone, “We will get you to your room, alright?” Charles breathed, looking now at you who remined speechless inches away from them.

Arthur felt sorry immediately after punching Leclerc, and you could see that on the boy’s face right away. You nodded towards their direction and the three of you entered the hotel, you quickly glanced over the receptionist desk wondering if anyone saw what happened outside as you worriedly walked behind the two of them who were now exchanging short whispers, you could gather the words, I am sorry and I know.

“I took care of that.” Charles announced, looking over his shoulder to catch your stare on the boys’ backs – and Charles’ split slightly bloody and bruised bottom lip in the well-lighted hotel’s hall.

You felt guilty all the way to Arthur’s floor because you caused that, you caused the punch although you were not the one to throw it. You were the one to be silent now, although you would have wished to scream from the top of your lungs. And yet, causing yet another fight might not be the best solution. You shortly hugged Arthur goodnight before Charles slammed the door shut, but not before hearing Arthur whispering into your ear, “My part in Charles’ wake-up call.” He giggled, embracing your body tightly despite Charles’ unpleasant look.

Charles followed you to the elevator so he could take you to your room too, your teammate had to make sure that you were getting the right one. You stood in silence, in a deep-oppressive silence as the elevators’ doors closed. Taking a short glance at Leclerc’s lips, Charles caught you lurking.

“Brothers fight.” Charles simply spoke, trying to wipe the blood at the corner of his lip with two of his fingers, “No worries,” Leclerc paused as the wound was twitching and you could clearly see the discomfort on the man’s face, “It happened before too, none of us like to be told what to do – especially when we are drunk.” Charles clarified, remembering all the times in which either him or Arthur threw punches at each other.

You sighed, “That does not seem very healthy.” You spoke, and hearing your voice was everything Charles was in need to ease the pain.

Charles smiled, turning his face to you to take a better look at what he would like very much to call “his girl” out loud and not just somewhere hidden in the back of his mind, “It was not your fault, just so you know.” He added, and the door clicked – you have reached your floor and had to go. And yet, you stayed and oh, how that made Charles’ heart flutter.

“Can I,” You paused with a shortened breath, “Can you at least let me take care of that so I can feel less guilty?” You answered, pointing out to Charles’ bottom lip.

Charles nodded without hesitating, which was very unlike him, you thought. And yet, seeing you with Arthur pleading so you could take his little brother to his room, made Charles realize that his jealousy unmeasurable at the thought of you being with someone else in a hotel room.

And now, you were inviting him into yours. You went straight to the bathroom to get the medical kit, and Charles watched you searching for that as he took a seat on the sides of the bathtub. The split of his lip was not even that bad, Arthur was unable to punch his brother using full force and of course. Charles could have taken care of the wound on his own and yet, now, how could he say no to the opportunity of you making room in between his legs so you could tap his bottom lip to disinfect it?

Charles looked up at you while you were trying to keep your calm. One of your hands went to his shoulder for better stability. You were still quite drunk, and using that excuse was working. You smelled like negroni, and fresh cooked bread. Judging by that, Charles already was guessing what your order was for that dinner. That made him slightly smile, making your job even more difficult. The warmness of Charles’ body so close with yours engulfed you, and it took you to a whole different reality again – one in which you were not racing with the other, one in which you would have pressed your lips against his right then and there, not thinking about any form of a consequence.

“Up.” You breathed, your fingers going from Charles’ shoulder to part of his neck to sustain him.

Charles obeyed, “I have to apo-”

“Shut up.” You quickly spoke, and not because talking would harden whatever you were doing to heal the wound, but because hearing his voice so close to your ears drove you insanely crazy.

Charles obeyed again, this time with a chuckle.

“I told you to shut up.” You insisted, eyes now on him as you were placing small transparent patch over his cleaned grievance, “You really send Arthur to find me?” You questioned, hand retracting from his neck for a split of a second before Charles’ covered yours with his, grabbing you by the wrist. Don’t, don’t depart yet. Charles would have wished to say, but let the eyes do the talking.

“I did, I just –” Charles paused, and amongst all of the pauses he took while speaking to you all day, this one was the longest and it drove you the craziest because he was now looking at you as Charles used to do back in the days – no greed, no jealousy, no fear into his eyes, just sparks of hope, “I know it will sound thoughtless, but I wanted to make sure that you were alright after what happened during the day.”

You sighed, “You could have asked me on your own.”

“You told me to get out of your room.” Leclerc replied, hand still on yours, chest still aching.

“And now I invited you in.” You nervously laughed as you patted Charles’ skin with two of your fingers, leaving your mark, tracing him, making him want more and more as you shifted even closer to his body in between his legs, “It seems like none of us can make our minds about the other – even after all this time.” You slowly spoke, “Were you jealous of him?” You teased even further, your other hand leaning on the man’s tight that was rubbing yours.

Charles nodded; you were having him wrapped around your little finger now – just as he had you this afternoon too, “My brother or not, men calling you “darling” or not.” Charles intoned, as his other hand went on your waist to hold you dearly to him, “I am always jealous.”

A thrumming smile showed on your face as you felt Charles’ fingers uncovering your back and touching your skin without the fabric of your t-shirt standing in-between the two, “I was always jealous on your girlfriends, too.” You finally confessed, feeling like a rock has been lifted from your chest, “Long-term or not, just a fling or not.” You continued, breathing heavily as Charles’ hand went up your spine, “Fuck, Charles.” You breathed right into his ear, feeling him heavy and hard underneath your touch on his crouch, “We can’t.” You paused, getting your hands out of him.

“We shouldn’t.” Charles agreed, lips close to your chest that he kissed, lips going up to your neck and lingering for a bit on the side of your jawline before not even inches stood in between your mouths, “You have been drinking,” Charles stopped right before your lips brushed against each other, “And I, punched in the face.” He then laughed, with his fingers travelling your spine in such fashion that made your entire body crumble, “We need to think this through.” He pondered, and yet it was too late to think – all you ever did was thinking.

“You are right.” You breathed, glaring up at him as he straightened his back to stood up now, “I am drunk, you are in pain.” You added with an unconvincing nod watching him dissipating the distance that still existed in between your bodies with a step and a cup of face within his palms, “Do you mean this?” You asked with big eyes, touching both of his wrists with your hands as you were looking dearly at him.

“I meant every touch, always.” Charles nodded, placing his forehead on yours for your breaths to meet, both hot and heavy, both lusting to be cut by a clash of mouths, “I have a plane to catch early, Y/N.” Charles added, gulping each of his words.

“Excuses.” You nudged, lips searching for Charles’.

“If I don’t make excuses, I will want to kiss you.” Charles softly spoke, breathing as if he was into your lungs now, “And if I kiss you, I will want more.” He added, eyes closed, hands going from your face on your shoulders where he rested his head for a while too, avoiding your lips as much as his cravings allowed, “And If I get more,” Charles whispered, lips caressing your shoulder as he spoke, “I will not be satisfied if I don’t have it all.” He muttered, and you could feel your knees shake and already envision your body falling to the ground, “I want it all, Y/N.”

By all, Charles meant to fully be able to call you, his girl. No games, no flings, no sweet nothings whispered just to swipe you out of your feet. That was – for now, at least – unmanageable to attain. You knew what he meant, and yet the reply you had to give him shattered your insides.

“And you can’t have it all.” You breathed in the same fashion as him, “That will cause more friction on the track, more chances to lose your beloved championship.” You spoke, hating every single word you were spitting, “Go get some sleep for your early flight, Charles.” You hardly spoke, feeling him departing.

One more glance at him and Charles was gone for good. No kisses goodbye, no kisses at all. Just hard feelings shared in silence in between two people in one random hotel bathroom close to midnight. You and Charles, always caught up in between feelings, hotel rooms, and midnights.

#i changed the ending two times #hope i made the good call #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fiction #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female reader

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appleflavoredkitkats · 2 months ago

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youve gotta let us know all your fave cfundy fics...the people need it...

hello anon . u have been bestowed a pin that says "best anon" for enabling me to talk about this fox a bunch more

1. banks of newfoundland by honeydowo

genuinely life-changing. writing style alone, i want to put it in my mouth.

but what makes the fic a genuine standout is that it's one of the first i've seen that encapsulates the concept of fundy as nationalism/l'manberg in a way that's super profound and super, super sad.

i love how fundy is portrayed in this. there's so much emotion in this fic, but it's explained in a very low and casual way that makes you feel more terrible for this guy. it's a cyclical showcase of fundy's tragedies, and how he can't even react to it in a visceral manner because it happens so frequently.

genuinely one of the most beautiful fundy fics out there. three years later and i still come back from this fic crying

2. be my home by neg_nancy

this one's a newer gem i found, one that portrays las nevadas as a "family" without making it fall into stereotypical family dynamics. i was simply put in awe by how well the author writes the connections and relationships the characters have with each other, imperfect and untrusting yet ultimately united for the same base causes

i specifically love the way they portray quackity. he's cunning and perceptive, knowing how to extract what he wants from his members without asking them directly. but what i absolutely love is how compassionate he is behind the sternness, and wow, i'm just absolutely floored by how he mobilizes fundy by the end

3. there is a quiet passing into silent, desolate pain (and no one is allowed to see) by readinglass

this one's depressing, but definitely unique. essentially, it's a fic about tommy witnessing fundy clean schlatt's grave. there's a ton of original, religious imagery in there, which i thinks taps into desperation in ways we don't often find with fundy

i love anything that looks into fundy and schlatt, and this not disappoint. it utilizes fundy's desperation and endless devotion to someone as a way to emphasize his ultimate loneliness. it is just so depressing, and the addition of tommy as both a character and a mirror to what we might be thinking is also so great

4. pandora's box by rabbitsintheclouds

saboo i miss u come back /j /lh

for real though, i know this is more of a c!dream fic more than anything, but the way fundy is used in the latter chapters is honestly so fascinating. the juxtaposition between fundy's optimistic, goofy, and unconditionally loving self and dream's charred-ness, memory loss, and pessimism makes for such a lively yet tense dynamic.

i promise you, this does not water down dream's abusive character to anything but that. but fundy reminds dream of what he's uncapable of being, which somewhat pacifies him a little. it hurts to see them relive dream after dream depicting end-world scenarios, especially considering how peppy and depressingly cheerful fundy is in these scenes

those about are my favorite fics but i suppose i can advertise my own as well. love of the fox is my ongoing one atm, a fix it of sorts that focuses on fundy and schlatt during las nevadas. i have 5 other fics, but i mostly stand by the fics "last resorts" and "one less sleepless night" the most. im too lazy to link those but just check em out on my ao3 :3

#asks #dsmp #fundy #dream smp #cfundy #c!fundy

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wayfayrr · 10 months ago

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Can I get a Christmas Pudding with a spiked eggnog to eat in?

Ps. love your work also when i checked your event gingerbread and candycane were a bit odd and didnt mention characters.. (as of 23:28 on dec 10)

order up - I hope you're happy with it <3

Yandere first 👀? It's been a minute since I've written for him but he's such a fun link to play with. I'll drop a warning for this though - he's got a few issues regarding divinity and theres a bit of blood/gore in it (although I know some people prefer that)

[Event masterlist]

It’s nice being in a village again since who knows how long. Having another link join us was a nice surprise, even though he’s a bit more awkward than the others. Just a shame his ‘Hyrule’, despite it not being named yet, was so terrible. So empty and dead, full of abandoned villages, at least those that are more than charred remains.

“If you’re overwhelmed by the crowds we can go back to the inn if you’d prefer.”

His grip on my hand tightened as he seemed to think it over, he’s clearly uncomfortable but there seems to be something stopping him from simply admitting it. I could force the issue and change the question, maybe that could get and answer from him.

“I was planning to go back anyway, might as well make the most of having a private room for now, right?”

“I suppose that it is getting late now.”

I know that links sacred form is a wolf, but does he really have to lean into the clingy puppy side of it? Not even the rancher is this bad as wolfie, and he’s a literal dog at that point. He isn’t asking to share a room with me though which is nice, even though he’s a link and kind at that, there’s something off-putting about him.

“Mhm, I’m definitely certain, it’ll be nice to call it early for once too.”

“Right then dear.”

How is he already so comfortable with using pet names for me? He’s known me for less than a week, yet he already sounds like he sees himself as my lifelong partner or something. All of the others have those types of names for me too, but with them? It took a while for them to warm up to me, I wouldn't have stayed with them half as long if they were like this.

“You remember where your room is right?”

“Actually dear, I wanted to ask if I could come to your room in a moment, I’ve gotten you a gift and I think it’s a good time to give it to you.”

…A gift alone in my room, what is he planning?

“I saw it in town earlier and I was just going get it for you so I could keep it a surprise.”

“You really don’t need to get me anything link.”

“I want to though, it’s the least I could do for you.”

Just a hum. I’m not going to be able to convince him one way or the other, am I? Really though, am I overthinking this, what harm could a gift cause after all?

I don’t have to wait for too long though, taking the time to sort through my belongings and practice some of the stitches legend and wars taught me to mend my clothing. If I had to guess then I was only waiting for about thirty minutes till there’s a knock on the door.

“Link you -”

“Why are you covered in blood?”

He’s just smiling. Smiling and holding a package in his hands.

“I was just getting you a gift, my deity.”

“I-”

There’s no time to even respond as he’s shoving it into my hands as he walks in. I have so many questions but so few answers, why is he so bloody, why is it dripping, why is it warm? He’s looking at me so adoringly though, waiting for me to open it so politely. You know how to untie a knot [name], you can do this, you’ll only make it worse for yourself if you don’t open it.

“Do you like my sacrifice for you, my deity?”

It’s a freshly butchered heart. Dripping with blood in my hands. He’s killed someone and torn out their heart to give me wrapped up as a gift. And now he’s looking at me for praise, he wants me to praise this. I feel like I’m about to throw up.

“You I… I don’t….”

“He was looking at you and trying to court you earlier and if there’s one thing that I learnt from hylia. It’s that gods adore sacrifices in their name.”

“But… I - I’m not…I’m not a god link.”

He doesn’t believe me, he’s got a sickening smile on his face like he’s done a good thing. Wait - why is he? The feeling of his blood sodden hand stroking my face is even more sickening than the heart still in my hold - why haven't I dropped it - he doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong. He’s proud.

…What have I gotten myself into.

#moss✦writes #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #yandere link #yandere first #lu first x reader #lu first #yandere legend of zelda #legend of zelda x reader

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heartofwritiing · 1 year ago

Text

and you just can’t say goodbye.

paring: (zombur) William Godwinson x fem!reader

summary: Wil gets bitten, and angst ensues.

authors note: HUGE thanks to @ax-y10 for the help because originally this fic was gonna end a lot more agnsty but then they gave me an idea that was more on the happy side! I've never written a zombie apocalypse setting before so please excuse anything I get wrong. I've only watched other people play The Last of Us and I've briefly seen one episode of The Walking Dead so you can see how this will probably go. lol. The Sorry Boys zombie video is brain-rotting in my head rn I've watched it about four times now. yes. I love Zombur, so here's a drive-by of me throwing this fic at you and then skirting off with smoke from my tires. enjoy the brainrot :p (I'm so sorry this took me so long to get out, I've been procrastinating finishing it because I'm having some self-doubt at the minute but I hope you guys like this anyway even though it's a mess lol)

warnings: zombie apocalypse au, angst, death, violence, swearing, lots of kissing, characters use guns, the writer doesn't know anything about how guns work lmao, sort of happy end? super unedited!

"shit! I'm out of ammo!"

You pulled the trigger on the handgun once more, but nothing. It was luck that you had even found one. Even so early on in an apocalypse. A month had gone by since the first day of the outbreak. Though it was likely that you should've died on the first day, you don't know why you've survived this long. you should be dead.

At first, you thought staying in your apartment was the best chance you had of surviving. Big mistake. That strategy turned south when your front door was barged in after four days of no disturbance from any outsiders. Your boyfriend Wil had grabbed everything you could carry, and you hadn't stopped moving ever since.

Now, you and Wil found yourselves trapped in an alley with no escape. A pack of infected had cornered you, slowly closing in while making menacing noises. Wil bravely stood between you and the horde, fighting them off to protect you.

"Climb up the fire escape!" he shouted back at you.

You looked around until you spotted a ladder conveniently placed on the side of the building within reach. Infected were dropping like flies as Wil's shots echoed through the air. The ladder shook as you climbed, heart pounding in your ears. You glimpsed down to check and see if Wil was following, to find he was surrounded on all sides by infected. Your heart dropped when you saw one of their mouths was too close to his wrist. By the time you called out his name, it was already too late.

'Fuck!' Wil screamed as the infected bit through his skin and charred his flesh. Blood gushed down his arm and around the infected's mouth. You cry his name as he reeled back his fist and punched the infected repeatedly until it staggered off of him, but it was too late. Your eyes were fixed on him as he quickly climbed up the ladder, gasping for breath as he did so. He seemed in immense pain as he pulled his body up the ladder, slightly struggling.

Upon reaching the roof, you found a roof access leading to a floor with multiple doors, revealing it to be an apartment complex. Wil was already feeling the effects of the infection. His skin was sticky with sweat, the bitter taste left in his mouth tasting the blood rising in his throat, and the sudden vertigo he got just by rushing down the stairs was enough to make him nauseous.

You came to the floor with all the apartment units and quickly kicked in the door of the closest one. It took a few attempts to kick the door, and then bam! The sound of splitting wood and the door bouncing off the wall made a delirious Wil jump.

You entered the small room, helping Wil through the doorway, and setting him down gently before closing the door. You searched around for something to barricade the door with. Just in case of any infected find you. The only thing that looked heavy enough was the dresser tucked into the corner. Using all your muscles, you pushed the object across the room with the bottom of the dresser scraping against the wood, grimacing at the loud noise.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you knew you were safe for now. You dusted your hands off and turned back to Wil who was slumped against the wall on the floor, clutching his bitten arm. Wincing and squirming from the heat burning through his skin spreading throughout his veins.

The room was dim, and you noticed the sweat beading down his forehead. You quickly took your backpack off your shoulders and strode over to him. Taking out the first-aid kit you had for emergencies, you pulled out the tiny bottle of anti-septic cleaning solution and the roll of bandages.

You gazed down at his wrist, which was curled against his chest, shrouding you from looking at it. The ring of teeth marks oozing out the color of maroon as black vines protruded around the area, extending over his skin. His head lulled to the side as he let out a moan of pain.

"No, baby, keep your eyes open," you tried to lure him back to consciousness. Take his hand and position it palm up in your lap. He whines like a wounded animal in response.

Unscrewing the cap, you quickly prep the cotton pads. Then you quickly realize you should've put on gloves beforehand. Muttering curses under your breath you shake your head at the thought, There was no time.

"What are you doing?" Wil's voice slurs. He sounds groggy, like something is trying to creep up his throat to escape, not him. It scares you. You refuse to look at him.

"I have to clean the wound before it gets infected," you say nonchalantly.

With the little strength he has left, Will reaches out his unbitten hand to catch yours. You stop your movements in disbelief of his actions, tears brimming in your eyes as you try to save his life, but he stops you again. You both know what's inevitable, you just can't accept it.

"Wil-" you try to pull out of his grasp. You reach out to touch his wrist again this time, he is the one who pulls away.

"Look at me," he pleads. You can't bring yourself to shift your eyes to his, knowing this was inevitable. You had to try. He had to let you try.

"just stop."

Wil tries to grab the items from your hands, but you move too quickly for his shrinking reflexes to keep up. Moving beginning to be too strenuous.

"I can't- Wil-" You struggle to fight against him, too scared to hurt him. Though he's already dying.

"Stop, honey..." he quivers.

"Just let me save you!" you cry. It echoes through the room. The air is tense, and you finally meet his eyes. His skin is sickly pale, eyes bright with red veins and glossy. Purple hues outline under his soft doe eyes as they peer into yours. He fists the hem of your shirt, inviting you closer. Your breaths mix together as he presses his forehead to yours.

The words hang between you, but you bite your tongue. You want to tell him how much you want him to stay and not give up. Deep down, you already know it's not enough.

"It's too late for me darling, leave me here.”

“I'm not leaving you,” you say sternly, shaking your head.

You were determined to stay with him, no matter how difficult things got, you were unwilling to abandon him.

“Please, I don’t want you to see me turn into a monster.” his voice wavered. Your heart sank. No matter what, he would always be your Wil. Sweet, caring, and lovable Wil. Whom you adored with every fiber of your being.

You reach up to cup his face with your hands, but they feel cool against your clammy skin. His cheekbones are slowly becoming more prominent. You stare into his eyes, but the urge to tell him to be quiet becomes harder as anger festers in your chest. However, it's not anger towards him, but rather frustration towards the universe.

Instead, you snuggle up next to him to demonstrate your lack of fear and your trust in him. You want to be by his side and provide comfort. You understand that it's unrealistic to expect him to recover from this infection given his history of being sick and having a weakened immune system. It's best to accept the inevitable outcome.

It's unclear how much time has passed while the two of you remain in that position. His arm securely around your shoulder holding you close, with your arm laid across his lap where your fingers provided soft circles against his hip bone. The room grows darker as the sun sets. The air feels eerie yet comforting all at once with Wil by your side. Nothing but the sounds of his raspy breathing and occasional coughing fit to surround you. He whispers through the dark against the crown of your head with horse words. Sweet nothings, promises that make you curl into him further so he can't see the single tear you shed.

He lifts his hand to gently cup your cheek, tilting your head to meet his gaze. Selfishly, he leans in for a soft kiss. You whine at the metallic taste in his mouth when he groans to part his lips so his tongue finds yours. It makes your head spin like a top how this man makes you feel. His lips are chapped, rough, and fast as he indulges in you for maybe the last time. You gasp and reach up to tangle your fingers in his locks to reel him closer to you. His hand finds the underside of your thigh, digging into your flesh. The mere touch of his hand sets your body ablaze and sends shivers down your spine.

It's frantic and passionate, your love for him shown physically. When you disconnect, suddenly remember you need to breathe. his eyes are hazy and his pupils are blown. You are sure you look like a flustered mess.

"I love you," he says sincerely, and you believe him.

It stings in your chest, you can't stand it.

"I love you more," you reply.

You tuck yourself into his neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and outdoors, and it's calming. Wil rests his head on the crown of your head. You neglect how his breathing has slowed as you drift off to sleep.

The next time you open your eyes, the sun peeks through the window, casting a golden glow over the bedroom. Your bones crack when you sit up to stretch from sleeping in the same position all night. You knew you'd regret it later when you had back pain for days. You turn to Wil, who doesn't stir when you move. Your heart dropped when you noticed something different about him.

Around his eyes were a darker color than the previous night. His cheekbones were completely sunken in where you could almost see the bone. his lips were a blueish color and his chest was rising and falling.

This was your fault. You should have stayed awake.

Tears streamed down your face as you called out his name, gently shaking his body, but he didn't respond.

"Wil!" you wailed, begging for him to come back.

You slumped forward, cradling him against your chest, pressing kisses to his temple, and muttering apologies against his cold skin. You felt your heart break as you realized he was gone, and tears rolled down your face as you held him close to you. You felt a deep emptiness settle in your heart. You knew you would never fill the void his death had left. You sobbed, gripping him tighter, and whispered your final goodbye. You held him close, cherishing holding home one last time. Knowing that you would never be the same again.

You're too distraught to move. You don't want to leave him here, but you don't have any other choice. The urge to keep on and survive was slowly fading now that you had no one left in this cruel world.

Wil felt heavy in your arms to the point where your arms were falling asleep, but you refused to let go. If you were to leave now, you may be tempted to never return to the person you once were. Allow your sorrow to consume you. The one good thing left in your life was gone.

You suddenly felt hands grab your lower back, causing you to yelp in surprise. Fingers gripe harshly at your skin through your clothes. Wil's chilled breath glides up your spine as he lets out a deep groan against your collarbone. He was alive? How?

His lips ghosted across your collarbone, pressing his nose directly into your pulse point. His hot breath fans across your exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your body. Then, you feel his teeth nipping at your skin, and your eyes widen realizing his intentions.

You jerk away and shove him off you roughly. Crawling backward, quickly shuffling away from him, your heart pounding, until your back hits the opposite wall with a thump. You wince in pain from the impact and notice Wil gradually beginning to crawl toward you. A fixed gaze over his sheer white eyes, almost glowing like moonbeams. Chills ran down your spine as you gazed at your former lover, unrecognizable.

You froze as he approached, shrinking in on yourself. His body lazily dragged itself across the wooden floor, scrapping and groaning with every floorboard. Once he was close enough, his hand unexpectedly reached to grasp your ankle, and you screamed in fear. Nails harshly dig into your skin and create recent moon shapes that make you cry out.

He yanked you with a surprising strength until you were laid beneath him, overbearing you. You are powerless as Wil, or not Wil's body leaned over you and cadged you with his arms. Tears flow from the corners of your eyes and into your ears as his face inches towards you.

"Please," you whisper. Again, he tilts his head in curiosity at you.

"William?" Your eyes bore into his, trying to find some trace of life left in them. You observe his eyes returning to their natural color and a look of terror crossing his face as he regains consciousness. He staggers back and moves away from you frantically, clutching his chest and struggling to breathe.

You both sit on opposite sides of the room against the wall, he stares into the floor burning holes into the wood, avoiding your eyes. You just blink blankly at him in shock, knees tucked against your chest again.

Wil cradled his skull, clutching fist fulls of his hair, squeezing his eyes shut, and heaving breaths of panic puffed out his mouth. Mumbles of "I'm sorry," repeated like a mantra over, and over out shakily.

You let out an unsteady breath, His eyes quickly flicked over to you and fear flooded your senses once again.

"Darling?" he tries, his voice hoarse. He moves towards the center of the room, positioning himself a safe distance from you. “I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me..." his voice trails off.

He noticed your tense reaction upon watching him inch closer to you, and it broke his heart to see you trembling in fear due to his prior actions. He could never forgive himself for causing you such distress.

"is it really you?" you asked.

"I don't know," he says honestly. "I don't feel like myself, It's like I'm trying to grab hold of a stearing wheel and fight for control right now."

Your heart sank at his words. You let them maul over in your head for a moment. It sounded like your Wil, but you hesitated in reaching out to him. So, was he alive? He didn't look it, his skin was still deathly pale and almost decayed. Nose now dripping with dried blood that ran down his lips.

His head hangs low as he silently sobs. He didn’t want this. Now he was dead and was leaving you to defend yourself. He swore he would always protect you and he’s failed. He knows its selfish to ask you to stay with him, you should just leave him here to rot. Still, he begs you.

“Please, darling dont leave me,” You shake your head and crawl towards him. He might be an undead zombie now, but you still loved him more than anything else is this life. You would do anything for him. You take his face in your hands to tilt his head up but he avoids your eyes. “look at me,” his eyes shift to yours.

“I wanna help you baby, and im sure as hell not gonna leave you, not now, not ever.” you proclaim. “So don’t you dare ever try and push me away, because im staying. No matter how complicated things get.”

You bring yourself to kiss his forehead, your warm lips making him sigh out from the touch. He holds you for what feels like hours. Eventually you both know you’ll have to leave this abandoned apartment, whether you run out of food or more zombies show up. move on, then figure things out. Whatever it takes you would stay together, no matter what.

taglist: @trashcanduck @merakiwi @addxms @ax-y10 @scenefaez @starsyoubreaklikesugardust @drop-of-void

#wilbur soot x reader #fanfiction #zombie apocalypse #sorry boys #wilbur soor x fem!reader #agnst #x reader #writing #fanficton #zombur #zombur x reader #zombie au #c!wilbur soot x reader #outbreak au

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mymegumi · 1 year ago

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selene hihi darling, for your ask game can i request megumi and a “meet ugly” > < just some sort of frenemies thing — idk why i think megs would hate us at first glance 😭

no bc why do i feel like i’d see him in public n bully him bc i thot he was cute. i be doing that to ppl i like bc idk how to deal w my emotions 💀 ty for req pretty thing n i hope u enjoy hehe lowkey longer than i intended but is ok lul

send me a char + a prompt, n i’ll write ~100 words!

megumi thinks he could burn you to the ground with a single glance right now.

you’d just taken his coveted caramel mocha latte off of the starbucks counter—and drank from it, no less—but now, you’re trying to pawn off your stupid black coffee on him. he’s insulted to think that he even looks like the type of person to enjoy a coffee black, because he’s tired but he doesn’t hate himself.

“um, no, i want my drink.” he deadpans, watching you with a wary eye as you move his cup of coffee towards your lips again. “i paid, like, thirteen dollars for that. how much was yours?”

“okay, first of all, who the hell spends that much money on a coffee,” you scoff, handing over his drink with an indignant look, “and second of all, i paid a reasonable five dollars for mine.”

he rolls his eyes, but takes a sip from his drink and almost melts into the floor. he’d been needing his daily boost of caffeine and you had been the only thing standing in his way. “exactly. i’m not about to take your shitty black coffee and let you take my eight dollars of hard-earned cash.”

you eye his coffee, scanning up and down the cup with a quick look as you sip gingerly from your hot cup now. “well, hypothetically, if i asked you what you ordered, would you tell me?”

he rolls his eyes—just typical you’d steal his coffee, try to steal a couple bucks off of him inadvertently, and then try to ask what his coffee order was. it was like some sort of meet-cute gone wrong. “caramel mocha latte with almond milk.”

you scrunched your nose up. “almond milk? why not just drink whole milk, or oat milk.”

“i don’t know, it tastes best with almond milk.” he wants to stamp his foot on the ground in protest but he sighs, looking around at the people filtering around you, trying to sneak past the both of you as you bickered to get their own coffee orders. “if we’re gonna argue, can we at least sit down while we do it?”

you motion to a free table, putting your bags and coat over the back of one of the chairs and gesturing for him to take the other one. sitting down, he’s realized he’s argued himself into a sort of date—at least this is what gojo would consider a date, and megumi’s not sure if he’s the best model for scale.

“oh, by the way,” you tilt your head to look at him and furrow your brows, “what’s your name again? i saw heard it when the barista called our names, but i forgot it.”

“megumi,” he says idly, knowing that this won’t be the last time he sees you, and being weirdly glad that it won’t be, “what about you?”

#megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi #jjk megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi imagine #megumi x you #megumi fluff #megumi x y/n #txt!writing #txt!ask game #ask!wishmemel #ෆ ; mutual love

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navybrat817 · 1 year ago

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Fall Like a Rose Petal

Pairing: Soft Dark!Scott Huffman x Female Reader Summary: Your normal routing leaves you unhappy and you can't figure out why. Word Count: Over 1.4k Warnings: Gaps in memory, gaslighting, coercion, creepy vibes, Scott Huffman (yep, he's a warning) A/N: Scott and Rose's Intro for my Disturbia AU! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You enjoyed living your life according to a schedule. It wasn't that you didn't like spontaneity. You just looked forward to accomplishing tasks each day. Checklists were a thing of beauty and crossing things off one by one were your mini victories. You tried to get the toughest things out of the way first to create and keep your momentum throughout the rest of the day. By the time your head hit the pillow, you had a sense of fulfillment.

Happiness.

So why do I feel like I'm going around in circles?

You stared at your "To Do" list after you set the table for dinner. Scott would be home any minute with the expectation of a warm meal prepared. Instead of crossing it off like normal, you grabbed the pink sheet of paper and went to the sink. You watched dispassionately as you took a lighter and set the corner of it on fire. You dropped the charred paper in before it could burn you and turned the water on. It didn't make you feel any better.

The smell won't mix well with the delicious food I cooked. A good wife takes pride in her work.

Sniffling when you heard the car pull into the driveway, you quickly went to light a rose scented candle before you fixed Scott a drink. A lawyer who fought for people who couldn't fight for themselves, you admired your husband and how hard he worked. He cared about what he did and you supported him.

But what do I want?

You couldn't explain why you felt moody all of a sudden. Today was exactly like how every other day was. You did your chores like normal and gave Ruby some tips on cooking a casserole. It was nice. So why did you feel off?

What did I used to do to relieve stress before I moved here?

You hissed at the sudden sharp pain in your head. As fast as it came on, it went away into nothingness. The way some of your memories did. You wondered if you liked making lists because you were a forgetful person. But that didn't seem right.

"I'm home!" Scott announced as he walked in.

You smoothed out your dress and smiled as you went to greet him. "How was your day?" you asked, giving him a gentle kiss once the door was shut. His lips lingered before he pressed them a little harder against yours. You accepted it, both pliant and eager.

A good wife is always happy to see her husband.

"It was good," he said, handing you his briefcase as he took the drink you offered. "How was yours?"

"I'm glad you had a good day," you said, biting your lip as he waited for you to answer his question. "I don't know."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "You don't know?" He asked slowly, setting his drink on the hall table to focus all of his attention on you. "Did something happen?"

"No. Nothing happened," you said, leaning into his hand when he touched your cheek.

A good wife doesn't worry her husband.

"Was there anything out of the ordinary today?" he asked, his blue eyes searching your face for some sort of explanation. "Rose, talk to me."

"No. Nothing. I just…" your face scrunched up, frustrated that you couldn't pinpoint the problem. "Do you ever just wake up in a weird mood for no reason?"

Scott nodded after a moment. "Yeah, I think we all have those kinds of days. There's no specific reason why we're upset. We just are."

"Yeah, exactly," you said, happy that he understood.

He knows exactly how to read me.

"So, you're having an off day. That's okay."

"But I don't know what to do about it," you said, an unexpected tear slipping from your eye. "I tried to think of what to do to make myself feel better and nothing came to mind."

"What about what we used to do?" he suggested.

You furrowed your brows, not sure what he was talking about.

"You don't remember?" he asked, a touch of hurt in his voice. You wanted to apologize, even though you didn't do anything wrong. "We used to sit on the floor in my office while we ate. You'd say one good thing about the day and I'd say something else. We'd go back and forth until we ran out of things."

There were bits and pieces of flashes in your mind of sitting with him on his office floor, but not a seamless memory.

"I thought that meant something to you," he whispered.

Which prompted you to burst into tears.

A good wife doesn't make a scene.

Scott said something to you, but you didn't hear him over the sound of your crying. You let him take you to the sofa and collapsed in his arms. "What's wrong with me?" You sobbed.

"Nothing. There's nothing wrong with you," he promised, wiping at your cheeks with his thumbs.

"Something has to be," you mumbled, gesturing to the room. "I do my checklist every day and something feels like it's missing. Like there's a void."

Where's my real sense of purpose?

"I'm going to make a phone call," he said, brushing away another tear. "Give me just a second, okay?"

"Okay," you replied, not sure how a call would help, but you didn't voice that opinion when he stepped out of the room.

A good wife doesn't pry.

You toyed with the hem of your dress and looked around the room. It was like something out of a magazine. Everything had its place. A home built with love.

Right?

"Hey," Scott said when he came back a few minutes later. "I think I figured out part of the problem."

"You have?"

"When's the last time you've done anything for yourself?" he asked as he sat next to you. When you couldn't give him an answer, he nodded. "Exactly. You're so busy taking care of our home and me that you neglected your needs. No, I neglected those needs. And for that, I'm sorry."

"It isn't your fault. You work so hard," you said, putting your hand over his. It was strange how you wanted to make him feel better when you were the one upset.

A good wife puts her husband's needs ahead of her own.

"But I should know when something is bothering my wife," he said, clenching his jaw. "I won't let it happen again."

"It's okay, Scott."

"No. You need to get out of the house more. Spend quality time with the wives. Have fun," he said, a smile spreading on his handsome face. "Which is why we're going to get a part-time maid."

"A maid?" you questioned, a tremor running through your body. Why did that frighten you? "No, we can't get a maid. What would everyone say if they found out? They'll think I can't take care of our home."

A good wife doesn't argue with her husband.

"They won't say anything. Andy's the one who recommended her and everyone knows you run our home with pride," he assured you, which calmed you down slightly. "Not only that, but you help the other wives without a second thought. They admire you and your helpful nature, Rose. I know Bucky's wife will, too."

You smiled a little. Bucky's wife was the talk of the neighborhood, though you hadn't met her yet. "I don't want anyone judging you."

What I do and don't do is a reflection on him.

"You have nothing to worry about. And since the maid would be part-time, she'll only do some of the chores. You pick and choose what you want to do and she can do the rest while you relax or pick up a hobby. You deserve that."

"Can I think about it, please?" you asked. A stranger in your home made you nervous, but if Andy and Scott trusted her, that helped.

Scott wouldn't do anything that caused me discomfort.

His jaw clenched again, but he smiled before you could dwell on it. "Sure," he said, kissing your forehead. "Do you feel any better?"

I don't know.

"I think so. Thank you," you said to appease him. "Why don't we eat on the floor in your office? We can talk about the good things."

He smiled like you handed him a gift. "That's a great idea."

Maybe you would take him up on his offer for a maid, if only to regain a sense of yourself.

As long as I keep Scott happy.

Remember, everything is FINE. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Scott Huffman Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #scott huffman x reader #scott huffman x female reader #scott huffman x female!reader #scott huffman x you #scott huffman x y/n #scott huffman #soft!dark scott huffman x reader #scott and rose #disturbia au #scott huffman imagine #scott huffman fanfiction #scott huffman au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x female!reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan

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kyokikia · 11 months ago

Text

Dine and dash!

Pairings ; Portgas D. Ace × fem!reader

Request from @luvfzw : heyy can i request a female reader and any one piece char of your choice with a platonic partners in crime trope? (With a smidge of romance if you want)

(thank you for the request! And my night is going great, ty for asking as well!)

Type, fluff and platonic, partners in crime trope

Warnings, cursing (both in dialogue and in the actual story) and thats about it, y/n is used 2-3 times

Likes and reblogs are very appreciated!

alr so ik the main storyline is dine and dashing, but ive never actually dine and dashed.. so uhm, i'll just work with what i think is how it works! Im really sorry if i got it wrong, feel free to send over an ask or a message if i did anything wrong and i'll fix it!

You and Ace were what some people would call partners in crime. Did that mean you guys committed crimes together a lot? Yea of course, you were his best friend after all. You and Ace had each other's back unconditionally, and everyone could tell. You both were always together, honestly knowing he knew your weaknesses better than you did your own, and vice versa. Both of you also seemed to be in sync, so much so that it was worrying. You both always knew what the other wanted when together, which meant you mostly knew what the other felt most of the time, and this included whenever you both felt hungry. Which led you to today.

You and Ace walked around an island that the ship decided to stay in for a day and a night, just to resupply some necessities, take a break, the usual. And you and Ace took this time to wander around the island's city, turns out this island was quite well-of and sort of large, a few shopping districts, good housing, very nice restaurants, an actually nice hospital, and good-looking hotels. Walking all over the city had both of you hungry after a few hours, so both of you started looking for restaurants to eat in.

Both of you agreed not to go for too much of a fancy restaurant, but not too bad of a restaurant either, you wanted good food after all. The pair of you chose a restaurant that was kind of crowded, and thankfully it wasn't those kinds of restaurants where you needed reservations and all that. You both found a table and after ordering, you both didn't wait too long before getting your food served.

You were both seated at a table not too far from the exit, but not the most easily noticeable or seen by the staff. You contentedly watched Ace as he was satisfying his near bottomless stomach while you also ate to your heart's content. The two of you conversing about stupid stuff, and also more silently, talking about how you're gonna get the fuck out of there without paying this time. This wasn't your first time committing these kind of not so harmless shenanigans with him.

The food was good in your opinion, but you both made sure not to spend too long there and when you both finished up, you got up, and left, after telling Ace to come in a few minutes, which he did not listen to. "Ace what the hell!" You whisper-shouted with no serious anger laced in your voice as you watched him exit out of the diner's doors just a minute after you left.

"Why'd you leave so soon!" You whined, bickering with him with a slight teasing manner. He looked at you while smiling with his usual grin, before replying with, "well, because i know I wouldn't get caught!" His response got him an obvious facade of being offended, "I? You deadass think only you wouldn't get caught?" You remarked, with a fake scoff leaving your mouth right after.

His grin grew larger at your scoff, before he quickly answered with, "Yea well I don't think you would get caught but I'm ju—" "just better than me?" You interrupt him, with a knowing smile on your face, before he looks straight in your eyes, "yea. i'm better than you." You look at him and his eyes as he says that, before deciding to turn away frohe freckled man, and you started distancing yourself and walking away from the restaurant and Ace, with him quickly trying to catch up, "hey! y/n! you know i was only joking!"

After he says that, you stop walking and say, "Yea yea i know! But—" the last part of your sentence, you purposefully pause and whispered. Before continuing it with a, "Last one to the ship actually has to pay for the next restaurant visit we go to!" You exclaim with a joyful grin before taking off, running back to where you came from. Ace takes a moment to register what you said, and why you're running off, and what'll happen if he loses. And once he does take it in, his eyes quickly widen before he takes off after you.

"y/n! This is unfair! You got a headstart!" Ace complained, running after you as he quickly tries catching up, the two of you running back to the ship. Eventually, you run out of stamina and start to tiredly walk, Ace not as run down on stamina as you are. "Alright alright Ace! We're done with the race—" you mutter while out of breath, the both of you were close to the ship anyway.

He slows down to match your pace, letting you regain your breath and you both approach the ship, "well, looks like i win!" Ace exclaimed cockily, "yea yea whatever." You replied in frustration at having to pay for the next meal, especially with his bottomless stomach.

"Don't worry about paying for the next meal, i'd rather not pay at all" he assured, "but.. you and me, we go out and steal for a hefty load of berry the next stop we have, alright?" He declared, and to which you gladly accepted. It's free money, and you get to commit crimes with Ace, win win for you all the way!

Alright so sorry this is kinda trash, first one shot i really finished that i'm actually gonna post! I dont know how dine and dash works so i also apologize for that, and im also sorry if you wanted something more intense in the sense of partners in crime! I'm really sorry if you wanted something like robbery or something like that, my brain just couldn't figure a storyline for anything other than this. Please let me know if its to your liking!

#ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece #ace x you #portgas ace x you #one piece x you #op x you #one piece fluff #op x reader #one piece oneshots #kyokikia #platonic #platonic x reader

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tranakin-skywalker · 9 months ago

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*sits down n snatches a french fry off ur plate* tell me more about groundwater

Ok so, consider this:

You're Darth Vader. You've just saved the life of your son on the Death Star pt II Electric Boogaloo, and have died from electricity induced heart failure/your shitty body finally giving out on you.

You expect to become one with the Force if you're lucky- maybe find yourself in some sort of Hell if you're not.

Instead you find yourself standing over a woman who looks painfully familiar but you can't place- holding a baby who won't stop staring at you. The baby too seems strangly familiar and for one heart-stopping moment you think Luke!

Then you look closer, and realize the woman is your mother- younger than you've ever remembered her. And that means the baby must be...

Then you realize that you don't have a body anymore. Not really. You're burning without heat in a blue fire that doesn't catch- nova bright and yet the only living thing around you that seems able to see you is the infant version of the person you used to be.

You try to flee, and realize you can't. You don't even make it out of the building before something stops you from moving, and you realize you're bound to this boy and his mother, and that this might be Hell after all.

You're Anakin, and all your life you've been followed by this strange spirit. Sometimes it looks like a man, sometimes it looks like an animal, sometimes it's a suit of armor or a burning corspe or an imploding star or a black hole.

All you know is that it's angry, and also very very sad. You wonder why it's trapped here, if maybe it's cursed, or maybe it just can't move on.

You're the only one who can see it.

It doesn't talk- sometimes doesn't even look like it's aware of where it is. But it follows you. And it protects you and your mother.

Other people might not be able to see it, but they can feel it. And it keeps the worst of them away from you and your mother.

Then the Jedi come and take you away. You hope that the spirit will stay on Tatooine and protect your mother, but it follows you instead. It's never spoken to you (or if it has, you've never been able to understand it), but you think it wishes it could stay with her too.

None of the Jedi can see the spirit either, but it can see them. You don't think it likes the Jedi very much.

It's with you as you learn how to be a Jedi, and you realize that some of the things the Jedi teach you, you already knew. Obi-Wan tells you you're a natural with a training saber, and you don't tell him it's because you feel like you've already learned all this before.

You're spirit hates Chancellor Palpatine, and that makes you nervous.

You're fourteen when the dreams start. They're hazy, and hard to explain, but they wake you up in a cold sweat and leave you with a feeling of impending doom. Something bad is going to happen. You don't know what.

You tell Obi-Wan about them, but the advice he gives you is useless.

The dreams get worse.

You start seeing your mother in them. You see her die in your arms.

You beg Obi-Wan for the chance to go see her, to make sure she's alright. He tells you it's a lot more complicated than just hopping in a ahip and going to Tatooine. That they can't just run off without authorization. That he’s sure your mother is fine.

That night you wake up to the spirit crouched over you in your bed, a face half melted off with bones and wires poking through the char, a living funeral pye with a mouth made of void.

"Your mother is going to die" it tells you, and you believe it.

You take the saber you built with your own hands and cut off your padawan braid, leave it with a note for Obi-Wan to find. You steal a ship, and set coordinates for Tatooine.

You're going to save your mother.

You are Obi-Wan Kenobi, and you woke up one morning to find your entire world has ended. There is a note on the kitchen counter, and beside it, a burnt, braided lock of hair. You already know what the note is going to say. You have to read it three times anyway.

You chase after your padawan, because if anything happens to him, you will never forgive yourself. You can't leave immediately, you're not allowed to. There’s process, and procedure, and though the Council is understanding, they won't let you just go gallivanting off to the outer rim. (Like your padawan did, you hear in the pointed silences). They assure you that Anakin is smart and resourcful and that you have trained him well, that he'll be fine.

You want to scream at them.

When you do finally leave, it is far far later than you would have liked, but you have a place to start looking at least. Tatooine. Mos Espa. A junk dealer named Watto.

It takes you much too long to find the shop, and seeing it for the first time, it hits you- this is the place your padawan grew up. This is where he was owned. Then you meet Watto, the one who owned him.

You ask about Shmi Skywalker, and Watto tells you that he sold her. He refuses to tell you who he sold her to. You ask him about Anakin, and he squints his eyes at you, and tells you he hasn't seen the boy since he lost him in a bet five years ago. In the Force, you can't tell if he’s lying or telling the truth.

You spend almost a month on Tatooine, looking for your padawan. You never find him.

Eventually, you are forced to return to the Temple, though you tell yourself it is only temporary. You're never going to stop looking.

And you don't. Every chance you get, you are searching for Anakin. All your friends too, when out on missions, keep their eyes out. None of you ever find anything.

Then, two years after your padawan disapeared in the night- you feel your bond to Anakin snap.

It is the most painful thing you have felt in your life. You realize, one heartbreak at a time, what that means.

You stop looking after that.

Then-

Footage is released of an uprising on Tatooine. Jabba the Hutt is dead. His executioner is a Sith.

You realize who killed Anakin.

You want to be one of the Jedi sent to Tatooine to investigate. You killed a Sith before, after all, you can do it again. The Council does not allow you to go. They send Quinlan and Aayla instead.

Before he leaves, Quin makes a promise to you. "I'll find out what happened to him."

While they are gone, more planets revolt, more footage leaks. You see that Sith, in that horrible, monsterous mask, that red blade. You see other masked beings, with their own blades. Colors you have never seen on a lightsaber before.

The Outer Rim is buckling, or maybe- it is transforming. Nal Hutta is razed, and slave worlds are liberated. There are reports of a fleet, and army. Every day it grows bigger. Like a spreading infection.

(Or maybe, you think- remembering that junk shop and things like ownership- maybe it’s something like hope.)

There are planets talking of seceding, of forming their own government. That talk has been going for years now, but something about this, about the unrest in the Outer Rim has made it a roar.

There is talk of war.

And all the while, more and more planets in the Rim go dark. The Freed Worlds, they call themselves, who want nothing to do with the Republic or this new Confederacy. The Republic and the Confederacy both feel threatened by them all the same.

Quinlan and Aayla and the other Jedi sent out return. They find very little, if anything at all. "We weren't allowed to get close. They didn't trust us. Any of us," Quin explains. "Somehow they knew."

The Republic reaches out to the Freed Worlds for a peace talk. They don't want a war on two fronts. Only, you think, some of them do.

The Freed Worlds agree, tenatively, but they agree, and send representatives to Coruscant. They don't seem aware that their arrival coincides with a vote on whether or not the Republic will form in army.

You are there when the representatives arrive at the Senate Dome, a bizarre collection of species and ages and appearances, none of them looking anything like the senators you know. They follow behind a young man, too young you think. Then you get a closer look at him, and your world ends and begins all over again.

"Anakin?"

#wow this got a lot longer than i intended #pardon any mistakes i wrote this on my phone at work #fic: groundwater #im leaving. a LOT of things out plot-wise #but heres a little taste

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