#nshots

[winecovered]

also this + supported someone who was calling people the r slur (though they can reclaim it, people asked them to stop...).

There are various other things prn has done, but they arent super confirmed / lacking screenshots and this is all from showing my friend in our dms LMFAO

Id also like to note that im not spreading hate, and nor am i trying to spread rumours. I want people to be aware of villyth, though how people react to this is not my fault. Please dont spread hate to prn, i dont want to be involved in that 😭

hey I just had a quick question! What’s up with the whole Villyth thing? I’m sorry if you don’t know but I’ve been seeing some posts abt them & im super confused.

@azure-swordsman, since you also asked!

Prn had a post a while before this talking about how prn "didnt care" about palestine, although i lost the screenshot. wether you do or dont take my word on that is up to you, but heres a screenshot of me talking about it two months ago LOL

[awrkive]

Hi hello yes

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGevHJGf6/

ITS JOEVERR💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞

[normalcannibalism]

meow :3

meow! hi hershel.. my friend herhsel layton. meoww

[autistickfigure]

it looks like tumblr has moved the "Oh no youre using an adblodker!" below my taskbar?!?!?!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Undercover || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!detective!reader Summary: When reports of a crime sends Charles into your path you could never imagine what an effect it would have on your life and the case that you lived to solve. Warnings: 18+ only, mentions of s*x traff*cking, g*nshot wound, reader injury. Enemies to friends to lovers WC: 7.2k

F1 Masterlist

“You do realise it is my day off? That means I don’t need to answer my phone, and definitely not at,” you pulled the glaringly bright screen back to see the time, “two in the morning.”

“I know, I know,” your boss sighed apologetically. “I’m really sorry to do this but I know you were working anyway.”

You sat up and rubbed your bleary eyes to see the pages of reports scattered across your bed. Once again you had fallen asleep working on your own time. “Shut up.”

Chief Conti gruffled a dry laugh knowing he was right and you heard the blinds on his door rattle as he closed it. The sound set you on edge and you tossed the blankets back to start getting dressed as you tucked the phone between your shoulder and ear.

“You are at the station. What the hell has happened?” The only time the Chief was at the station outside of nine to five was if there was a national emergency. Your eyes drifted to the papers on your bed and a slither of hope started to creep in. “Did they find-”

“No. Still no word, I’m sorry,” he said, dashing the hope as soon as it started. “It’s a high profile case so I need to come in.”

You swallowed down the disappointment and grabbed your keys off the nightstand. “Alright, be there in five.”

When you arrived at the police station there were reporters with cameras filling the lobby and they even overflowed onto the front steps that you avoided by skirting around the building to the staff entrance. You were already annoyed with the case and you hadn’t even swiped your access card to the offices - but it was disturbing the air that helped you to focus.

“Ah, Detective, thank you for coming in,” Chief Conti greeted formally as he handed  a large mug of coffee over and waved a hand to the man at his side. “This is Charles Leclerc.”

You took a big gulp of the hot drink, burning your tongue without care, and willed the caffeine to work its magic quicker as you stifled a yawn. “I don’t think he needs an introduction, boss, everyone knows who he is. But, I don’t do babysitting, that’s rookie work.”

“He doesn’t need protection.”

You turned your attention to the Ferrari driver and noticed all the small details, from the way his shoulders hunched in on themselves to how his eyes darted around the room. Something had rattled his confidence and trust and you felt sorry for the man. “What can I do for you, Signore Leclerc?”

He cleared his throat and looked at his shoes with a hint of embarrassment colouring his cheeks. “My watch was stolen.”

“Your watch?” you asked slowly as you glared at the Chief, all sympathy gone in an instant. “I was called in because of a stolen watch.”

Your boss sent you a warning look and you sighed as you swiped the manila folder from his waiting hands before turning and sauntering off to your office. “Follow me.”

You didn’t look back to confirm he was following since the cheap linoleum floor made it impossible for anyone to walk quietly and you held your door open, closing it behind him as you pointed to the cushioned chair opposite your desk. You dropped down into the chair without spilling the coffee and moved enough papers around to find space for the cup to sit while you picked up a new report that had been deposited on your desk since you left last night. 

“Are you going to take my statement?” Charles asked quietly, breaking the silence that had filled the last ten minutes.

The new information you were reading didn’t serve to help your case as much as you wished it did and it was hard to keep the bitterness of that knowledge from leaking into your tone. “I have everything I need.”

“I haven’t told you anything.”

“You don’t need to,” you said looking up from the photo you had been scanning. You closed the folder and crossed your arms as you rocked back in your squeaky chair. “You were targeted by adept thieves, two at least, near la Darsena di Viareggio while you were signing autographs, given the ink stains on your fingers. The watch is worth at least 250k, which they knew since they neglected to take your wallet from your back pocket or the, what is that Cartier?, diamond necklace you have tucked under your shirt.”

“APM…” he corrected with his mouth agape. “How did you know that? I didn’t even get to explain that to the Chief.”

“There is a strip of green confetti on the sole of your shoe and last night was the celebration of the croce verde services. Then, there is the fact you were at the Red Corsair - their bouncers use ultra-violet stamps. I can see the reflection of it on your hand. Both point to la Darsena di Viareggio. Chief wouldn’t wake me for anything less than grand larceny and the rocks on that chain around your neck would have been easier to take, same with your wallet.” You grabbed a pen and spun your chair around to see the sleeping city out of your window and longed to go back to sleep too. Turning back, you tapped the pen against your lip and tilted your head inquisitively. “So tell me, Signore Leclerc, what can you add that I have missed?”

“Are you always this rude?” he asked, his eyes looking to the door like he was wishing someone would come and rescue him.

“No,” you said as you returned to the photo and lifted it up to the lamp on your desk to get a better look, “but I am tired and I have far more important things to focus on than a spoiled rich kid whose watch costs more than my apartment.”

Charles pushed himself up from the chair and you glanced up as he spoke. “I see. I’ll let you get back to your evening then.”

You frowned as his brows pinched a little in recognition and you moved the photo to see his eyes following it. “You know this man,” you surmised as you stabbed your finger at the pixelated face.

Charles leaned closer and shook his head. “I don’t know him, but I have seen him before, in Monaco.”

“Sit,” you said as you snapped your fingers and pointed to the chair. “Where does he go, how often, who does he speak to? Tell me everything.” The desk vibrated as your knee bounced excitedly beneath it and you grabbed a notepad, flipping to the blank page.

“Are you still going to look for my watch?” Charles asked as he crossed his legs and sat back with a small smirk.

“I have been looking for this man for ten years, but every time I get close to the cockroach he goes into hiding.” You opened another folder on your desk and grabbed the stack of portraits, tossing each one down on the desk. “Clarice, Shannon, Dakota, Brenna, Aliah…the list goes on. All missing on a night out along the coast, from Livorno to Sanremo. They had all just turned eighteen and wanted to have fun until they met him.”

“No offence but you don’t look old enough to have been policing for ten years.”

“I never said I was.” You stared at the portrait still in your hand and gently traced the smile that graced her lips before sliding it across the desk. “Her name was Kayla. She wanted to have a quiet night in but I begged her to go out for a few drinks. Her mother still calls me for updates and you know what I have to tell her?”

Charles swallowed as he shook his head.

“That I am too busy tracking down pickpockets because a rich boy got robbed. I have to tell her that her daughter's life, my best friend's life, has been calculated by the department and it is worth less than a 250k watch - along with the 16 other missing girls linked to this trafficker.” You grabbed your cell phone and found Mrs Ricci’s number before offering the device to Charles. “Do you still want me to look for your watch? If so, would you like to make the call and tell her yourself?”

Charles shook his head and turned the ring around his index finger, a nervous habit that you had quickly noticed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Don’t apologise, just tell me everything you know about this bastard.”

The dive bar was thick with cigarette smoke and the haze only added to the sleazy vibe that it was renowned for. Nodding to the bouncer as he let you pass, you snaked your way through the crowd of delinquents and criminals that frequented the place to the bartender.

“You’re not meant to be here, not tonight,” he growled as he looked around the busy room.

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly my idea of fun,” you scoffed as you accepted the bottle of beer he placed in front of you, “but it beats bringing the whole force down here, don’t you think?”

“Just don’t break the pool sticks again, they are new.”

You saluted him with the bottle and made your way to the doors that led to the back rooms that very few people outside of the family were given access to. You hated this side of the job, balancing on the knife edge that was morally grey, but sometimes a little oversight on a report may be in your favour at a later date. You hoped that was going to be the case this time.

This bouncer was unlike the one at the front door and he had no qualm about you seeing the revolver on his hip when he lifted his hand to rap on the door. It cracked open an inch, a thick chain glinting in the fluorescent light, and the bouncer’s whisper of warning carried along to you, “ghisa in casa.” 

The door closed and you had no doubt the men on the other side were quickly hiding whatever illegal items they were inspecting before the chain rattled off and the door opened.

“Ghisa, we weren’t expecting another visit so soon,” Vincenzo greeted, as he plucked a fat cigar from his lips.

“I’m here to call in a debt,” you said as you stepped inside and rolled your eyes at the careless job they had made of hiding half a dozen guns.

“A debt?” he chuckled. “I didn’t know we had a debt, but I can do you a favour.”

“Cut the bullshit.” You pointed to a roof tile that wasn’t quite back in place. “I don’t need a warrant to search if I have probable cause, wanna call my bluff?”

“It’s always a pleasure to deal with you,” he grumbled and took a seat, pointing to a seat that was quickly vacated. 

“A necessary evil, unfortunately.” You sat down with your beer and nudged the overflowing ashtray further away as you cut to the chase. “Richard Mille-”

Vincenzo huffed and interrupted you with a gruff, “never heard of him.”

“Funny, it’s a watch. A very expensive one too. Now, I know pickpocketing isn’t your MO but I figure scum knows scum.” You took a swig of the beer and he digested the words.

“So, my men get this watch for you and then you owe us.”

You nearly spat the mouthful of beer as your laughter filled the room. “Giacomo was there for his daughter’s birth as a free man, now he gets to see her grow. One word from me and that could have weekly visits for the next seven years.”

“He might be wishing for that now,” Vincenzo joked, earning a round of chuckles from the other men. “His wife is a bitch at the best of times but without sleep and having a newborn, prison doesn’t seem so bad.”

“I can make it happen,” you offered with a smirk. “So?”

Vincenzo cast his eyes around his men and nodded with a wave of his hand. “Go. Start with the whores, see if anyone’s come into money or wearing the Leclerc watch.” Your eyebrow curled up and he returned the look. “What? I see the news now and again. Forza Ferrari.”

“Didn’t pick you for a racing fan,” you admitted as you pursed your lips. “I figured you stuck to sports you could fix.”

His face split in a wry grin, cigar hanging from the corner. “Who said it wasn’t?” 

The country liked to put their faith in God but you found the devil was always better at getting results and Vincenzo pulled through not even a day later when a small mysterious box landed on your desk. You debated calling security but figured a bomb would have been bigger as you pulled open the bow and found the Richard Mille watch nestled on top of a note. Curiously, you picked up the watch to get the note and gagged as you found a finger underneath.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered with a shaky breath as you turned the paper over and read the promise. Slippery fingers no more, V.

It wasn’t a pleasant task to do but you wrapped the finger up in tissues and buried it at the bottom of the bin of confidential paperwork to be incinerated before pocketing the watch. You felt the weight of it the entire walk to your car where you made a phone call you didn’t want to be overheard.

Chief Conti didn’t question your sudden request for leave and you were grateful for it as you stuffed some clothes into a duffle bag and rushed down the stairs as your ride arrived. The moment the sleek black car pulled in you wanted to slap yourself. You didn’t think you really needed to tell him to be inconspicuous but obviously that was an oversight on your part as the Ferrari came to a stop.

“You stick out like a nun in a whorehouse.” 

“Hello to you too, how have you been? I’ve been better, thank you,” he muttered as you slid into the passenger seat and dumped the bag at your feet.

“Yeah, yeah, pleasantries aside - what the fuck are you driving?”

“My car. How else are we getting to Monaco?”

You looked out the window at the standard black sedan you were given by the department, the police lights not as noticeable as a police car but also not well hidden. “This is going to be a long drive,” you muttered under your breath as he started to pull out of the street. 

“Not as long as it would be in your car,” he joked but his smile disappeared when he looked across and saw your lack of amusement. “Oh, come on, lighten up.”

“I’m a little stressed alright, I need this to work.” You sighed and watched the city pass in a blur as you twisted the friendship bracelet on your wrist. “I need this to work.”

“You want to know what I do when I’m stressed?” 

You wrinkled your nose at the question and cast your eyes over his body. “You’re a man, so I’m sure I can guess.”

His laugh filled the car as he shook his head and reached for the stereo. “Music, it soothes the soul.”

“How old are you again?” you asked, the words dripping with mockery. 

“Did you always want to be a cop?” His curiosity had you sit a little straighter and you dared him to continue with the lifting of an eyebrow. “Most I have met are a little more…empathetic, nice?”

“I can be nice,” you huffed as you crossed your arms. Granted it wasn’t your strongest trait, it might have been if your life didn’t come to a screaming halt one night. Now your entire future was fixed on solving this one case, maybe then your conscience could give you a break. 

“A pâtissière,” you broke the silence and Charles glanced across with a look of confusion. “I was training to be a pastry chef.”

“That…wasn’t anything close to what I was expecting.”

“I quit and joined the academy when the case went cold. I wasn’t going to let Kayla be another unsolved file in a box on a dusty shelf in the basement. She deserves better than that. They all do.”

Charles’ knuckles tightened around the wheel until they turned white and you watched the muscle in his jaw clench as he turned to look at you. He may have been dubious about your plan before but now he had the same determination as you did. “We’ll catch him.”

Charles' apartment was exactly what you had imagined it would be. White walls, light furnishings, framed race tracks in lieu of artwork and memorabilia lining the shelves. The only surprise was an upright piano against the living room wall, though on second reflection it wasn’t all that surprising. The long drive had been filled with an eclectic range of music, including classical pieces.

Taking a seat on his couch while you paced the room, he leaned forward and began playing with the rings on his fingers. “Okay, what do you need me to do?” 

“First of all, stop that,” you said pointing to his fingers. “If you are nervous he will pick up on it. You need to look confident.”

Charles rolled his eyes and sat back in the chair, draping an arm along the back as he crossed one leg over the other. “I can be confident.”

You nodded at the change, a little impressed by how naturally it had come for him. “Play pretend a lot?”

One side of his mouth tipped up in a cocky smirk and even his eyes seemed to darken as they followed you across the room but just as suddenly as the act was switched on, he returned to his comfort of twirling his rings. “Enough to know I can do this.”

It was a little disconcerting how convincing he could be but you didn’t have the time to read too much into the problems the driver was going through internally. Maybe at another point in time you would have asked why he faked his confidence so much but that wasn’t your priority now. “Good. I’m counting on it.”

The items in the bag you had packed weren’t strictly legal since the department didn’t know you had taken them from the station but you were beyond caring. You were so close to catching the cockroach that there was nothing going to stop you. 

“Shirt off,” you said as you tipped the bag upside down on Charles’ coffee table. 

Charles frowned in confusion as he looked at all the cords and equipment. “Why?”

“I’m putting a wire on you, so strip.”

He stood up and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it onto the couch where he had sat. It was impossible not to appreciate the sight before you tore your eyes away and returned to untangling the electronics that had been packed in a rush. He was just another informant you were prepping for the job, being fit and handsome didn’t change that.

Charles jumped a little as you ran the cord down his sternum and goosebump began to prickle across his tanned skin. “You couldn’t have warmed your hands up first, could you?”

You made a show of rubbing your hands together before continuing. “Don’t you take ice baths?”

“Don’t you have a bedside manor?”

“Sure, when the guy is in my bed.” You laughed as his eyebrows rose in response. “What? Surprised a cop can get laid or just me?”

“No, no, nothing like that, you are very good looking, I just…I’m used to women being more reserved. It surprises me to hear you talk like that.”

“The station is 95% men,” you explained as you tore a piece of tape off and stuck the wire to his chest. “If I want to fit in I have to be just another one of the boys, and they love to talk about sex. Turn around.”

Your eyes traced the straps of muscle that ran down his back to a point at the base of his spine where two dimples sat above the jeans that hung low on his hips. There had to have been dozens of people you had prepared for undercover work but none had been a canvas as perfect as this. Biting off a larger piece of tape, you secured the small battery pack and recording device to his lower back before clearing your throat.

“Where’s your closet?”

 Charles turned back to face you and you hoped he didn’t notice any change in you as you avoided his inquisitive eyes. “Down the hall, but I think I can manage getting dressed on my own.”

“Congratulations, you’re a big boy,” you muttered as you rolled your eyes. “I’m more worried about the wire showing through. Let’s go.”

He led the way through his home and into his bedroom, the bed made with a haphazard attempt to just toss the blankets down that left the corners untucked and crinkles rippling across the top. His eyes flickered around the room before his foot slyly kicked a pair of boxers under his bed and you laughed at the attempt.

“Don’t worry, I’m not your mother,” you teased before pointing to the bedside table. “If I was, I would totally shame you about the tissues and moisturiser over there.”

“I wasn’t expecting to bring anyone home,” he muttered as he opened the drawer and shoved them in before slamming it closed, making the lamp nearly fall over.

“Rich, good looking guy - figured you always had the place ready to bring a hookup back.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” he said a little bitterly as he picked up some pairless socks and tossed them in a hamper. “One night stands aren’t my thing. I prefer to have a connection with someone if I’m going to let them come into my home.”

“Connections.” You wrinkled your nose at the sentiment and started opening his drawers in search of clothing that wouldn’t interrupt the sound feed. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Been better,” he admitted, taking a seat at the end of his bed and catching the white tank top you tossed at him. “But I haven’t given up.”

“Hopeless romantic, I should have known from the sad songs you played so much.”

Charles stood up and started to pull the singlet over his head as he spoke, “It has to be better than the bitter spinster act.”

“Who said it was an act?” You caught the hem and carefully eased it over the microphone so it didn’t tug off the tape and found Charles watching you intently. Ever the perfectionist, you ran your palms down the material to erase the creases and bumps that may have given away what was hidden underneath. “I see the worst humanity has to offer every day. I see what love does to people.”

You turned away from the pity in his green eyes and walked into his wardrobe, skimming your fingers over the dress shirts that hung neatly on the racks. “I see what people do to the ones they supposedly love,” you murmured as you selected a crisp white linen shirt and held it up to his chest when you saw he had followed you into the narrow space. “I’d rather be alone.”

“That isn’t the only option,” Charles said as he took the shirt and reached past you to return the empty coat hanger, his body coming close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. “You could find someone who would cherish you for the rest of your life.”

“It’s a nice idea,” you smirked up at him, “for a five year old. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage. I remember the nursery rhyme.”

Shaking his head, he gave up on arguing as he swung the shirt over his back and began buttoning it up while you moved onto the line of tailored trousers, then the ties. “Can you do this yourself?” you asked as you selected a rich sapphire tie that matched the pants you held. “Or do you normally have an assistant.”

Charles swiped the tie from your hand as you bit your lip to stifle the laugh and you watched his fingers thread the tie around his collar. He gave a satisfied smirk as he finished the basic knot but the smile fell at your unimpressed stare. “What? It’s perfect.”

“If you’re a 50 year old man,” you scoffed as you untied in and started over. “I’m thinking a Trinity knot will suit you better anyway, given the size of your neck.”

“Do you get off on insulting people or just me?”

“You have a thick neck, that is a fact that I’m sure saves your life given your profession. It is not an insult,” you stated plainly. “Would Usain Bolt be offended if I said he had big calves?”

“You basically called me a 50 year old man,” he huffed as you tightened the knot around his neck and pulled the collar down over it.

“No, I said the Windsor knot is perfect for a 50 year old man.” You secured the tie with a gold pin and patted his chest with a nod before you grabbed his shoulders and turned him to the full length mirror. “Looks good,” you said as you peeked around his body to see the reflection. “You’re on your own with the trousers. I believe you can manage that: zip up, belt on, done.”

Charles rolled his eyes but a small smile played at his lips as he finally stopped seeing everything you said as an insult. “Thanks for the faith, I hope it isn’t misplaced.”

“It must feel quite strange to have a voice in your head,” you whispered as you watched Charles arrive at the exclusive restaurant where you were already seated.

“Not really, this part actually feels familiar,” he replied quietly.

“That’s good, I won’t have to worry about you touching it then.” The earpieces only had a short range but you planned to stay close enough that he wouldn’t be alone while he attended the soiree in the private room above. “What is Couilles De Mouton?”

“Mutton testicles,” Charles answered with amusement thick in his tone. “A delicacy, you should try it.”

“I don’t understand how a country with such exquisite desserts can have such disgusting mains. Who saw a sheep’s testical and thought, you know what? I bet that tastes good. It’s sick.”

“Charles, good to see you again.” 

You could barely breathe as you heard his voice for the first time in almost ten years. You had memorised that sound in case you ever heard it again but imagining and hearing it were vastly different as your heart began to thump wildly in your chest. 

“Are you alright, my friend?” Ferdinand asked and you started to rise from the table as you feared Charles had frozen up.

“Charles?”

“Sorry, I was distracted by all the beautiful women here,” Charles answered, though you weren’t sure who it was aimed at. 

You heard the quiet slap and rub of material like Ferdinand had clapped Charles on the back. “You have a good eye, they are indeed beautiful. Come, I’ll make some introductions while we eat.”

“No, no that won’t be necessary,” Charles chuckled nervously and this time you did leave the table only to stumble as you heard his smooth lie. “I am actually in a relationship.”

“I won’t judge. What’s a little secret between friends?”

Your finger stabbed the elevator button over and over as time seemed to drag and Charles' answers grew weaker and weaker as he struggled with the discomfort he was facing. He had never noticed how the man he thought was just another rich part time resident of Monaco, wanting the perks of the tax haven, was always surrounded by young women. He never noticed that upon closer inspection they all held a vacant stare in their dull eyes though their smiles were permanent and bright.

“There you are, honey,” you greeted as you placed a hand on Charles’ back and rubbed it softly, slow circles to calm his racing heart. “I was looking for you everywhere.”

“Who is this?” Ferdinand asked with a smile that made you shiver. Those pearly white teeth were akin to a shark’s, ready to sink into your flesh.

“My girlfriend,” Charles said as he curled his arm around your waist and pulled you closer while you scanned the dozens of pretty faces before landing on the one that mattered most. Your throat constricted at the almost emaciated frame and how she would’ve hated wearing the cut out dress that hung off her once-enviable skeletal figure. “Amour?”

“Kayla…” you whispered as you took a half step towards her before a hand caught your shoulder, squeezing tight enough that the pain broke through the daze you were in.

“You look familiar, have we met?” Ferdinand asked as his nails dug into your skin. You didn’t even think as your hand slipped between the slit in your dress to grab your handgun from the thigh holster. 

“Yeah, when you made the biggest mistake of your life,” you spat as you drew the weapon and aimed it at the centre of his chest. “You’ve pissed off a lot of people, Ferdinand. Even the Cosa Nostra doesn’t lower themselves to sex trafficking and they are very keen to have a little talk with you when we get back to Vaireggio.”

You waved the gun towards the elevator as some guests noticed the guns and screams erupted. “Let’s go, now.”

“Aren’t you going to arrest him?” Charles asked as he took a step back, the movement catching the others around your periphery. Ferdinand didn’t appear worried because he had more than enough security to stop you from leaving with him.

“You’re just a cop,” Ferdinand laughed and Charles winced as he realised his mistake. “I bet you don’t even know anyone in the Cosa Nostra.”

Your lips curled into a dark smile that made him hesitate. “I have made friends far and wide to find you, some high,” you nodded your head to Charles, “and some low.”

“Friends are just weaknesses to exploit.” Ferdinand thought for a moment before flicking his hand with a signal. “I’ll call your bluff.”

A glint of metal beside Charles had you throwing your arm out and knocking him to the ground before the gunshot rang out. In all the movies you had seen, none of them ever truly captured the sound of a gunshot. The initial explosion of the firing pin hitting the bullet was deafening in a confined space and dozens of people fell to the ground clutching their ringing ears.

For you, it was painless. 

Numb. 

Silent.  

You felt your heart beating. The pulse of it throbbed in your brain and heat spread along your arm with each lub-dub until the pain became white hot fire licking your skin and your fingers came away wet and red. 

Time had warped in the second that the bullet had fired, slowing down enough you were certain you would be able to see a hummingbird's wing beat if one were to pass by. You saw the individual specks of dust dancing in the rays of light before the sun dipped beneath the horizon. You saw the doors exploding into shards of wood as blackclad police infiltrated the private room like an arm of death. 

“Chief?” Your vision started to swim and you were sure his presence was merely a mirage as he rushed in behind the Armed Offenders Squad. A pair of arms caught you as you stumbled back and you found tears in the green eyes that appeared above you. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Charles said with a shaky voice as he pressed his palms to your shoulder, your blood staining his skin. “Thanks to you.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Charles laughed but it broke with the tears that leaked down his cheeks. “So you have something to make fun of me about later.”

You hated how he disappeared from your view but medics had arrived with Chief Conti and Charles backed away to let them through.

“Hey, Chief,” you greeted with a groan as the initial shock wore away and even more pain rushed in. “You stalking me now?”

“You haven’t taken a single day of leave in all the years I’ve been working with you. I knew something was up, and this old dog was right.” Chief watched as Ferdinand, and the armed men linked to him, were led out of the building in handcuffs while more medics arrived to check the women he had brought, along with the innocent guests like Charles who were in a state of shock. “Is that her?”

Every little movement sent waves of pain across your body but you followed his line of sight to Kayla where she was wrapped under a thermal blanket looking dazed and nodded. 

“I’ll ride to the hospital with her,” Chief promised as he looked at the reason why his best detective had ever joined the force. She was the reason so many young women were going to go home where they belong. “I’ll check in on you soon.”

“Thank you, Chief. Shit,” you swore as you remembered the promise you had made to Kayla’s mother. “I have a phone call to make.”

Charles was already there, reaching for your handbag that had fallen to the floor as the medics packed the gunshot wound and lifted you onto the stretcher. “I’ll call her mum,” he promised as he walked by your side, translating what the medics were saying along the way. He looked a little ashen as he listened and he leaned against the elevator wall as it descended to where the ambulances waited. “The bullet is still inside there so you need surgery.”

“Oh, that’s why it hurts.”

“No, it hurts because you took a bullet meant for me.” Charles pushed off the wall and swayed a little before following the stretcher to the ambulance and climbing into the back with you.

You hissed at the sudden flash of pain that sent stars dancing around your vision as the van rattled to life. “I think, ow fuck, any bullet would hurt, to be honest.”

“Is there anyone I can call for you?” he asked as he sat where he was directed and took your hand in his, the blood on his palms sticky to the touch. “Your parents?”

“No, it will just freak them out.” A tube of gas was passed over and you shoved it between your lips to inhale the pain relief. “This isn’t working.”

“Keep breathing,” Charles murmured and you laughed around the tube after inhaling another deep lungful of the gas.

“I wasn’t planning on stopping, thanks.”

Charles rolled his eyes and dropped his forehead to your joined hands. “I’m glad you can joke at a time like this.”

“If I don’t laugh I will cry and I’m an ugly crier, like really ugly.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Charles whispered too quietly to hear, except you had the earpiece still firmly plugged in your air and it picked up the whispered words. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re pretty alright yourself,” you whispered back, his head shooting up as he heard you loud and clear. You raised a shaking hand to your bag and pointed to it. “I got you a present.”

“Me?” You rolled your eyes and nodded to answer his question before he opened your bag and spotted the little box. He tugged the little bow open and lifted the lid, a loud laugh erupting as he saw the gift. “Thank you, I needed a new watch,” he said as he leaned in and kissed your cheek. 

You hadn’t been able to resist buying the ferrari-red Spiderman watch from the corner shop on the walk to the restaurant but you weren’t sure the children’s sized band would fit around his wrist as he tried it on. 

“You’re welcome,” you chuckled as you painfully opened the front zip on your bag and held it open so he could see what was inside. “But you might like that one more.”

“What? How did you…” Charles was gobsmacked as he reached for his Richard Mille watch and slipped it on next to the cheap plastic one.

“Called in a debt,” you said with a yawn as the pain faded away and you closed your eyes as the swaying of the van made you nauseous, “it’s no biggie.”

You were almost certain you felt a hand stroking your cheek but almost everything was going numb. “Why don’t I believe that?”

Your head was starting to spin from the laughing gas and you were incredibly sleepy all of a sudden, with all thought and reason slipping from your mind. “Because you can be pretty smart…and pretty…annoyingly pretty…that face…hidden by a helmet…unfair.”

Three Months Later - Viareggio The double shot of espresso warmed your fingers as you sat on the terraced rooftop along the waterfront and watched the seagulls gliding on the wind above the yachts. The chair beside you was quickly occupied and Charles apologised for being almost late as he placed a kiss on your cheek. 

“I ordered for you,” you said after spotting the waitress arriving with his macchiato- since it wasn’t race week he could enjoy the extra calories. “I also said you would pay, since, you know, I took a bullet for you and got fired for it.”

“Technically, you got fired for stealing surveillance equipment,” he recalled as he pulled his wallet out and placed a few notes on the bill holder. 

You waved a careless hand. “Let’s not argue semantics, it’s too early in the morning.”

He chuckled as he took your hand and laced his fingers with yours. “You do realise bakers start before dawn?” 

“I’m used to working weird hours.” A small frown crept onto your forehead as you tried to remember the long shifts but they seemed like a lifetime ago. 

Charles’ thumb caressed your hand and it pulled you away from the memories that felt like an oil slick on your brain. “Do you miss it?”

“No, it was never my dream - just a necessity,” you answered slowly as you tasted the truth on your tongue. “I’m excited to start training again, it’s like I can finally start living again instead of surviving. Chasing every lead, the highs and lows when they went cold, I don’t miss that at all.”

“How is Kayla doing?” 

You swirled the espresso around the small cup, watching the thick golden crema coat the walls as you shook your head. You visited her every week but progress was slow as her body weaned off the drugs Ferdinand had used to keep her and the others docile. “Some days are better than others.”

“She’ll get there, amour,” Charles promised as he lifted your hand to his lips. “She has the most supportive friend who never gave up on her, and never will, right?”

“Right,” you nodded as he lightened the mood as he often did when he came to visit between the trips to Maranello for work. “Can you stay the night?”

Charles chewed on his lip that threatened to curl up in amusement. “I don’t know. I’m a spoiled rich kid whose watch costs more than your apartment. That would damage my reputation.”

You chuffed a laugh as you slapped his arm but the range of movement tweaked the bone that wasn’t completely healed and you froze at the sudden pain. Concern instantly erased the amusement and Charles helped ease your arm back down as his brows furrowed, guilt in those green eyes. “It isn’t getting any better, is it?”

“You worry too much,” you said as you reached out and brushed away the frown lines from his forehead before cupping his cheek. “I’ll be fine, the physio seems to be helping but I might never have full rotation again.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, leaning his face into the warmth of your palm.

“I’m not, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You made a cute French maid.”

“Monégasque,” he corrected with a smile. “I’ll do a lot of things for you, but I’m not going to wear a little maids outfit.”

“That’s a shame,” you laughed. “I arrested a man who sold photos like that on the black market, made a fortune.”

Charles’ nose wrinkled at the idea over the rim of his mug and he almost choked on the mouthful before he swallowed it. “Always good to have a backup plan if my racing career ends earlier than expected.”

“Just skip modelling and go straight to OnlyFans. Solid business plan, babe.”

“No, I know what I’d do,” he said as he cast his eyes over the busy beach below. “I’d invest in a little coffee shop, one that has a reputation for the best pastries in town.”

You smiled at the idea and played along with his hypothetical plan. “You know, all the best coffee shops have an old piano for anyone to play.”

“Of course, and ours would too. Then, at the end of the night I’ll play it for you while you close the shop. I would offer to close it for you so you could get off your feet, but it has to be perfect and you are bossy.”

“You’ve really thought this all out,” you laughed as he was absolutely correct.

“I’m always thinking about you. The long nights without you drive me crazy otherwise.”

You were about to correct him on how he spent his nights without you, acts involving lotion and tissues, but there was a growing audience who had noticed where Charles was.

“Time to go undercover,” he said as he grabbed his sunglasses from the V of his shirt and he placed them onto his face.

“You are never going undercover again,” you scoffed at his charming attempt. “Last time was a nightmare and now I actually care about you.”

“You cared about me then too, especially when you called me pretty,” he said with a lopsided grin. “We had a connection, don’t deny it.”

“That was clearly the drugs talking.” He laughed at the lie and kissed your hand as he pinned you with those green eyes that you saw whenever you closed yours. “Fine, I thought you were hot as fuck. Happy?”

“Very much.” His laugh warmed your temple before he kissed it and you started to walk faster at his sweet whisper in your ear as he promised you the night. “I’ll be even happier when I get you home.”

“Me too,” you smirked as you bit your lip just thinking about getting him out of the clothes he wore. “Then you can show me this ‘connection’ you speak of.”

His smile was blindingly bright as he waved to a few fans, but his hand tightened in your grasp. “It goes very deep.”

“The deeper the better.”

Tagging: @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @starwarssavy23 @fdl305 @faeb1tch42069 @sweetestrose569 @pleasantducktimetravel @zendayabelova @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @belennasif @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19 @destourtereaux @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3 @bangtanxberm @ohthemisssery @eviethetheatrefreak @kimi240302 @formula1mount @storyteller-le @dakotali @daddyslittlevillain @elijahslover @formulas-bitch @faithm120601 @ynbutbetter @allabouthappiness @simpingcorner @chasing-liberosis @jspitwall @sociallyinepludi

[deathofacupid]

hello!! can you please do one with mcu peter parker where reader survived a bad mass sh00ting, and they're somewhere in the city, someone pops fireworks and reader gets scared cuz it kinda resembles gunshots and peter comforts her? thanks 🫶

promise | peter parker

hi, darling! thanks for requesting, i hope i did it justice! (this took a little longer than anticipated to get out, sorry!)

summary: the pain of the past is a tricky thing, even more so when it's traumatic.

warnings: mass sh00ting, themes of vi0lence,mentions of bl00d, g#ns/g#nshots, panic attack, ptsd

pairing: comfort!peter parker x hurt!reader

word count: 2.3k+ words

the festival is big, it's bustling with life. happy couples, children, and families roam the area, food in hand, smiles on faces.

lights stream from booth-to-booth, which there are row and rows of. you're walking hand in hand with peter, giggling about something he said.

after a long couple weeks, this is exactly what the two of you need. alone time (well, not really alone). just something to bring spirits up.

you pass by another couple, where a girl is holding the cutest teddy-bear. it's a soft beige, with darker laced bow around it's neck. he sees you eyeing it, grin on his face.

peter is thinking exactly this; "i'm winning that for her."

he drop your hand, to which you complain, and strides up to the couple. "hey, man. what booth did you get that from?"

the man looks up at peter, smile on his face, "all the way in the back, it's red, last row, i think."

peter nods, thanking the guy. he walks back over to you, grabbing your hand again. by the look on your face, he can tell you didn't hear.

he kisses your cheek, then pecks your lips. "wanna come find out?"

you nod like it's obvious, but peter likes teasing.

he's always liked teasing you- no, loved. he fell in love with the way your cheeks turned pink when he did so, all that power in his hands. somewhere along the line, he fell in love with you too.

if someone were to ask him when, he wouldn't know. he's always had that feeling for you, since the day you met. it just got stronger as time went on.

peter pulls you to the back of the large park where the festival is set up, all the way to the back. "peter!" you laugh, "slow down!"

you bump into many people along the way, apologizing to each one. but after a while, you give up.

he takes you to where the guy said it would be, and sure enough, there's a red booth, a row of teddy-bears in the prize cabinet. "i," peter declared to you, "am winning you that."

you squeal; you've got no doubt he can. "really?"

"yep."

you're already thinking of where to put it. the nightstand by your bed would look nice, or maybe the bookshelf. finally, you decide you'll keep it in bed with you.

peter steps up to the booth, and it's one of those ping-pong-in-the-cup ones. his spidey senses won't even make him break a sweat. he pays and the lady gives him three small balls. he weighs them in his hand, calculating how much force he'll need to use.

you're clearing excited, making him equally giddy. "ready, baby?" he asks, stealing a kiss for good luck.

"yeah!" you exclaim, with a clap of your hands.

peter glances at the cups, then back at the balls. he squints, aims, and makes the shot.

that's one.

"go, peter!" you cheer.

aims, and then makes the shot. it's almost too easy.

that's two.

he makes the shot.

that's three.

it's over so quickly, that the lady is suprised. nevertheless, she takes the bear out of the cabinet and hands it to peter, who in turn, hands it to you.

"aww!" you gush, "it's so cute!" throwing your arms arounf him, "thanks, petey," you nuzzle your nose to his.

"anything for my angel."

you kiss him, and hold the bear close to you. there's a small group of patio chairs and tables, and for the most part, it's empty. "can we sit down for a bit?" you asked, and then smiling, "not everyone has spider-man stamina."

he laughs, and you're sure it's the prettiest noise you've ever heard. you and peter move over there, and he pulls of your chair. "god," you half-swoon, "may really did raise you right."

"didn't she? i'm so charming. and chivalrous. and-"

"good in bed," you say, it's off-handedly, he can't help but blush. met by his silence, you over at him from across the table. "oh, sorry. i though we were listing things. you can't forget the most important one, can you?"

peter rolls his eyes, still flustered, "so you wouldn't be with me if it weren't for that?"

"hmm," you joke, drawing this out. it's fun, it's a distraction; you love it, and you love him. "well, it's cool you know tony stark."

"then go date him," peter says, playing along.

"maybe i will," you pull the bear to your chest.

peter makes a face, kicking you gently from under the table. "he's, like, 50!"

"well, maybe i like that. he can be my sugar-"

"okay, yeah, we're done. no- we're done."

"you sound jealousss..."

"no, i'm throughly concerned. mr. starks' about 30 years older than you!"

you sigh, "what about captain america?"

"that's worse! wait, you know he's a hundred-something, right?"

"even better. and he doesn't even look it."

"y/n. no."

"fine, fine- oh, wait! have you seen bucky? god, i just want him to bend me-"

"i don't wanna hear the rest of that sentence."

"i suppose i'll settle for spider-man," you say. "too bad he's not super-old and rich."

he kicks you again, and you giggle, falling into silence. you're having something of a staring contest with him, but you lost ages ago. your eyes trace his facial feature, and he's so pretty. you open your mouth-

"you're so pretty," peter says, leaning against his hand.

"aw. you stole my compliment. i was gonna tell you that."

"well, y'know, you still can."

"okay. you're more prettier."

"seriously? 'more prettier?' aren't you literally majoring in creative writing?"

"it's my off-day. now take the compliment."

"thank you. but you're the prettiest."

"you're max pretty times infinity. so... take that."

"and that's why you aren't a math major."

"boo-hoo. i win."

he sighs, long and exaggerated, "i can't argue with the basic, ever-true fundamentals of math."

"no, you can't."

you bicker back and forth, before you know it, it's gotten dark. peter scoots his chair next to you, arm slung around you. "isn't it nice?"

"what?" you asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

"spending some nice time together."

"oh. yeah. it is. it's been some time since we've had this much fun."

"mm. after this, do you-"

and it's so quick and unprecedented, you don't even notice it. it's a short pop, and instantly you've broken into a cool sweat.

because, god, it sounds so much like-

there's screaming. so much of it. it's never-ending, buring into your ears. it's everywhere, coming from everyone, and now it just sounds like a one big siren-y noise.

it feels like you're back there in a blink, feet glued to one spot as people run away.

"pe-peter," you choke, "you said- you said there wouldn't be fireworks!"

he looked around, almost frantic. "no, hey, breathe. the website said there wouldn't, and i double checked with the staff. it might be some kids-" he thinks that was the only one, but just a second later, loud pops and crackles go off - a whole series of them.

peter figures that it's some stupid teenagers down by the dock, which isn't far from here, but that's not his main priority right now.

his main priority is you.

you tune it out, the rest of his sentence because suddenly, it's not fireworks anymore.

you can see the bodies from where you're standing, darky, inky, red liquid spilling. they aren't bodies, not really, but lumps of clothing, a corpse inside.

you think you might be sick, but you can't feel anything.

or maybe you're feeling everything, but it's too much, so it doesn't feel like anything.

peter's holding you tight, you're aware of that, but you can't breathe. it's like your stomach twists itself into knots, like a rubberband being stretched and pulled.

your hands are clammy, your heart rate is speeding up, and your breath is getting shallow. you feel like you're going to burst.

honestly, it's not a great sensation. it's sickening.

you want to focus on what peter's saying to you - something along the lines of breathe - but you can't. you're sucked up into the past. but it doesn't feel like the past. it feels like the present.

someone knocks into you, and you fall onto your shoulder. you're wearing a sleeveless shirt, and your shoulder is rubbed up against the hard granite of the ground. you can faintly feel the blood that's there. though, you can't get it out of your mind that it's nothing like the body just 50 feet away.

you should move, probably, get up.

you can't.

you're frozen, all but for you're trembling breath, just as you were then.

peter grabs your chin, making you look at him. "y/n - can -" it's choppy, not enough to ground you.

and just like that he's gone again.

you never looked at any news reports, but you're sure that there were hundreds killed.

why weren't you one of them? it wasn't that you wanted to die that day, but it didn't seem fair.

children, parents, significant others, grandparents, babies...

they told you that you were lucky.

you don't feel lucky.

he squeezes your shoulders, "hey, hey, can you tell me three things you hear?"

you knows he's trying to help, but you want him to shut up. he seems to know this, but presses on, "three things you hear, angel,"

you're hyperventilating, "music," you choke out, it's the cheesy tunes, "the- the-" you're trying to think, "laughing, there's laughing. i h-i hear you."

"brave darling," he says, "can you do another on for me? two things you smell?"

"um," is it working? you can't tell. "food- food?"

"that's right," peter coos. "one more."

"your cologne."

"last thing, last one, lovie. one thing you taste."

"blood." it's short, you bite it out.

wait- blood?

"blood?" peter asks. he's concerned.

you swipe your tongue over your teeth, there's that distinct metallic taste. you bit your tongue, and you didn't even realize how hard.

he gently grabs your jaw, "no- hey, don't do that, my love."

you press your tougue against the roof of your mouth, trying to will the blood away.

peter wipes away a hot tear you didn't even know was there, "my love, breathe. you're safe, you're okay."

you bury your face into his chest, clutching his shirt. your hands are sweaty, but your lungs are doing there job better.

your breathing slows, and you're left sobbing. he tells you that it's okay, he tells you that you're safe. you know that in spider-man's arms you are, but it doesn't slow the cries.

his heart aches, seeing you like this. you've been getting help, but the hurt doesn't go away all at once.

peter knows this better than most.

he also knows that sometimes there isn't anything anyone can do to help (even though this is all he wants to do).

all he can do is sit there and hold you, let you know you'll be okay.

your crying stops, leaving you with hiccups. you're beyond glad that there isn't really anyone here, expect for an eldery pair. out of the corner of your eye, you can see they're concerned.

you feel like you can sense the dried blood on your shoulder, and you want nothing more than to scratch it away. you feel so filthy.

on impluse, you pull away from peter slightly, brushing that shoulder off. you can see the scar that it left, making you want to throw up. there's a patch of warm saliva that coats your toungue, and you can feel the burn in your throat, but barfing in public is the last thing you want to do, so you swallow it, gagging.

your head hurts, and suddenly, the festival isn't fun.

"oh, pretty girl, i'm so sorry," your tucked back into the safety of his hold, silent. "'s some dumb kids. i promise you, i had-"

"i know," you sniff. you're tried, exhausted.

"do you wanna go home?"

he reads you well, you think.

in response, you nod meekly. "okay, honey, we can go home. do you want a second?"

you shake your head; you wanna get outta here.

he helps you up, arm wrapped around your waist.

his main priority is to get you home, where you'll be content tangled in sheets. it's a quiet ride home, his hand is on your thigh, you're holding on tight.

you're asleep by the time he gets home, so he gently scoops you up, making his way inside.

peter sets you on the bed, going to the bathroom to get makeup wipes. he's sure you don't want to sleep in that.

it's the cool wipe that wakes you up, your eyelids fluttering open.

"petey?"

"hm? you're okay. we're home. 'm taking off your makeup." he pulls one of his shirts out from his drawer, moving back over to you.

"help me take this off?" he askes, tugging on the hem of your shirt.

you comply, and he takes it off, replacing it with one of his. you shimmy out of your shorts, and he tosses them somewhere, along with his own shirt. he quickly changes into something comfier, sliding into bed with you.

"feeling better?"

"yeah. i'm sorry- i-"

"don't you dare apologize," peter lightly scolds you, there's a soft type of stern in his voice.

you let your mouth fall shit, you aren't winning this. instead, you tuck yourself into his side, shielded from all your pain. when your so close to peter, all you can focus on is his scent, his love, leaving no room for everything else.

you sigh into his touch, and he holds you softly. "do you feel better?"

you're quiet, you don't have to put up a wall with him, because it's easy around peter. "yeah," you reply after a moment. "i feel better. 'm just tired now."

"okay," peter kisses your forehead, "then we can go to sleep, pretty girl."

to you it's a simple thing to say, it's sensible. to him? no.

to peter, it's a promise.

it's a promise that he'll always be by your side, that he's gonna be here to work it out, to put a smile on your face.

yeah, it's a promise.

[simplydannie]

Hi ! Can you write a Velvet centered fanfic ? Maybe where she gets hurt and doesn’t say anything until it gets bad because she doesn’t wanna been seen as weak

Haii!!

Okay you got it! Forgive me if it takes awhile by the time I post this lol I wanna make sure it’s decent for you! I also work on the fics off and on as I have other stuff too 😊 Okay let’s see how this would go:

TRIGGER WARNING ‼️ Mention of blood and g*nshots

The twins are on the run. A gang of Rageons hunt them down. Velvet finds herself injured, but she keeps it hidden… she needs to be strong, she has too…

They ran and ran. They could hear the screaming and yelling coming from behind them…

“Damn succubi get back here!!”

“Don’t look back! Keep running!” Velvet yelled as she pulled her brother.

“Where? Where are we running?” Veneer asked nearly tripping as his sister pulled him by his sleeve.

“ANYWHERE!!”

She maneuvered them into an alley. She followed the twists and turns hoping it would lead to a way out…. Dead end.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” She murmured. Glancing up at the wall there was nothing for them to climb…

“A window!” Veneer exclaimed. He got near, bending down, holding his palms together, he motioned for his sister to go up first.

“What about you?”

“Pull me up when you’re through… JUST HURRY! They’re coming!”

Their pursuers footsteps could be heard echoing down the ally way. Veneer boosted his sister up through the broken window, she reach out to grab her brother pulling him in.

Thankfully, the building was empty. She grabbed his wrist and lead him through the dark abandoned building. Velvet knew it would be a matter of time before they figured out where they went. They best not be there when they did.

It felt like hours, but the twins finally made it out of the building and through the front door. Velvet let out a sigh of relief… they were in the clear… for now. She stared up and around what was the city of Under Rageous. A scowl came across her face…she couldn’t believe she was back. She couldn’t believe the life of luxury and fame was over. What’s worse, the thugs of the under-city knew who they finally were…. No, not pop sensation super stars Velvet and Veneer…. The daughter and son of one of the most ruthless crime lords in the under-city….and now bounties were on their head.

“We need to get the hell out of here.” She declared, “Let’s make a run for the border… I know a way we can escape.” She said.

Veneer frowned, “Vels there’s nothing but the woods surrounding us, you know how dangerous that is?”

“Nothing different than what we’re facing here Ven!”

“….. Maybe we can go back to….”

“No.”

“But…. He’s our dad. He’ll…”

“I said no! I’ll be on my death bed before going back to him again! After all he’s done and treated you Vennie, you still want to go back?”

“….. he’s our dad…..”

“He’s a nobody!”

“Now, now, what will daddy think if he hears you talking like that?” The voice startled them. They turned and a saw the Rageons had finally caught up to them… they lingered to long. The twins backed away until they saw they were surrounded…. There was no way out.

“Just leave us alone!” Velvet demanded placing a protective arm over her brother.

The Rageon smirked, “Don’t you know how famous you two are now in the under-city? I mean you did want to be somebodies after all didn’t you?” He took out a knife and waved it in the air, “You think your daddy would mind if we sliced you up a bit?” He reached over and grabbed Velvet by her wrist.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” Her brother lashed out but was grabbed by a second goon behind him.

“Let us go!!” She kicked and fought against her captor. He pinned her to the floor hovering over her, a scowl of disgust on her face.

“You’re feisty, and cute…. I like that combination.” He smirked at her, running his finger along her cheek.

“In your wildest dreams!”

SMACK!!

She headbutted the goon straight in the nose. He screamed and fell back holding on to his nose for dear life.

“She broke it! Little bitch broke it!!!”

Velvet reached over and grabbed the knife he dropped. She ran to the Rageon who still held her brother and stabbed him square in the leg. He yelled in pain dropping Veneer to the floor.

“HURRY UP! RUN!!” She began to pull him again. They didn’t make far enough when they began hearing it…

BANG! BANG!

The twins could feel the bullets buzz by them. Pulling Veneer she dove underneath an opening that lead into another alley way…

Thats when Velvet felt the scorching pain on her side. She fell to her knees… but she didn’t cry, she didn’t scream… she sucked in the pain…

“Vels!” Veneer called out trying to pull her to her feet.

“I’m fine. I just tripped.” She lied as she stood up, “Keep going come on!” She gripped her side as she ran.

They really had no sense of direction, they just ran until they could feel they were safe. Eventually they came upon an old abandoned factory.

Velvet lead them inside. She saw it was an old mining factory, containing numerous levels. They could easily find something and hide for the night at least. So, she kept walking.

The more she ran, the more she was walked, the more pain scorched her body. She leaned against the wall, “Wait, let catch my breath really quick.”

Veneer nodded, “I’ll look ahead just a bit more okay?”

“Whatever.” When she saw the coast was clear, that her brother wasn’t near, she removed her hand from her side….a bullet wound….blood. How much has she bled out? She looked back from where they came from… Crap. There was a small trail of blood… she’d lead the goons right to them. But she couldn’t tell her brother. He’d freak out. He was relying on her for strength, she just couldn’t do that to him. She peeked making sure Veneer wasn’t coming back. Taking a piece from her skirt, she wrapped it around her wound and pulled it tight, hopefully good enough to stop the bleeding… at least momentarily.

“Come on!” She hears her brother call out as he approached her again, “A little bit further. Maybe we can find like a break room we can stay in.”

“Let’s just go.” She pushed past him as she lead the way….

…. They walked…. And walked…. And walked…. They walked until Velvet felt like she couldn’t anymore. The pain was to much. Nausea began to over take her. She peaked inside a room, “Let’s just call it a night here. We’ve gone far down enough.”

“Okay.”

They secured the door behind them, and as soon as they sat down, exhaustion took over. Veneer looked at his sister as she was sitting a ways off.

“Vels?” He patted the spot next to him.

“No. I want my space.” She told him…. Truth was, she didn’t want him to see the mess she was in. Hopefully the bleeding would stop soon enough; maybe some rest would make her feel better. Veneer just frowned as he looked at her..

“Good night.” He said, but she didn’t reply…

…. She waited until he was out cold before she tore another piece of her clothing to wrap the wound some more. Velvet tied the knot tighter, allowing for more pressure on the wound.

“Dammit.” She said to her self. How could this have happened? Her eyes darted around the room… no cabinets, nothing… no first aid, no cloth… empty. Velvet curled herself into a ball hugging her knees. She leaned her head against the metal beam near her….

In the morning, she had to find something that would help her, at least until they could run into someone willing to help them. For now, she would rest. Velvet didn’t realize how tired she was until she finally let her body relax…within seconds, she shut her eyes… and was out cold.

Veneer woke up with a yawn and stretch. He rubbed his eyes. Being so deep under ground he couldn’t tell whether it was still day or night… he would have to check somehow. Veneer looked to where his sister slept; she had fallen asleep leaning on the beam. He crawled over to her to silently wake her.

“Vels.” He called to her….. she didn’t move.

“Velvet, wake up.” He whispered again….nothing.

“Wakey, wakey. Come on.” He reached over to touch her…that’s when he felt the coldness in her body.

“Vels?” Frantically he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, her head dropped motionless to the side, her lips were pale.

“VELVET!” He began to cry. How? Why? He looked at where her hand lay, clutching her side. “Oh no, no, no!” He removed her hand to see the wound that had bled out. How long had she been like this? Why didn’t she tell him anything? “Velvet please!” He begged.

He gently positioned his sister on his lap. Moving his head to her chest he stood quiet…..

THUMP….THUMP….

Her heart…. It was barely there, but he could feel her pulse…. She was alive….barely.

“It’s okay Vels. I got you. I got you.” He hugged her as tears streamed down his face… was this how he was going to loose her? How long did she have? Veneer held her tight as he thought what he could do to save her…. He had an idea… he knew someone that would help them… someone who would save her….but he knew she would hate him for it… he knew she’d rather have died… but Veneer didn’t want his sister dead, he needed her, she was his pillar…and right now… he had to be hers…

… He had to get word out to their father somehow.

[capitalisticveins]

time to play “Fireworks or G*nshots”

[steddietogo]

Made With Love

Steddie TikTok au: Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

———

Bobin_Buck Posted 20 mins ago

———

Caption:

Get ready with me: Date night edition

———

Robin and Eddie are rooting through Robin's closet for a perfect date outfit for Robin. Steve has been banished to the bed due to conflicting opinions. He pouts and complains about it for a long time.

"You should totally do that, you'll get so much more views then," Robin says after Eddie suggests that Steve should make a suggestive thirst trap male chefs on the cursed clock app can't stop making.

"I'm not smacking a chicken thigh to get more views, thank you very much." Steve protests, lying upside down with his head hanging off the side of the bed.

"Oh don't act like your above it, Steven, we all know about your several slutty exploits-" Steve launches a cushion into her face, making her scream bloody murder.

"You could make one wearing just your apron," Eddie suggests and wiggles his eyebrows at Steve, making him snort out loud.

"Ew. that would be so embarrassing," Robin fake gags.

"Well, unlike you Buckley, I can appreciate a good looking man-" In the background. Steve rolls over to hide his face in the pillows as Robin and Eddie continue to bicker.

———

Eddie is holding the phone, filming himself. "Passing the phone to someone who acts like dog with the zoomies after a single cup of coffee,"

Cut to Robin, who says, "Passing the phone to the someone who routinely gets bullied by kids several years younger than him,"

"Passing the phone to someone with chronic foot-in-mouth disease and was too scared to talk to their crush that they hid in men's bathroom for a full ten minutes." Steve says, sending a withering glare to someone off camera.

"Passing the phone to the person who got chased by a damn poodle into the- HEY!" The phone gets yanked out of Robin's hands halfway through her sentence.

"Passing the phone to Tinker Bell who is dying because he isn't getting enough attention." Steve says, then shoves the camera towards Eddie who is dramatically pouting on the couch then immediately perks up when he's given the phone.

———

There's a montage of Robin showing off different outfits. Eddie and Steve are sitting on the couch with table tennis racquets on their hands with 'YES:) and 'NO:(' scribbled on each side to rate each of her outfits.

A green sweater vest with a white shirt underneath gets an immediate no and Robin walks back into her room like a sad tom cat. A blue crushed velvet shirt under suspenders gets a maybe. The winning combo is the one with a black suit vest underneath an oversized pinstriped suit jacket and high waisted pleated pants.

Eddie leaps from the couch, exclaiming, "I know what this outfit needs- chains!" then bounds off to his room to pick some out.

———

Bonus clip:

Robin and Steve are piping cream puffs and Eddie walks past them, takes one look at it and says "Me, when I- when-". The video loops back to the beginning just as the three of them dissolve into cackles.

———

Comments:

user 80085: Slutty exploits??? We need details

Corrodedfan: Did Eddie publicly announce getting creamp— *g^nshot*

Dustin H: Goodluck with your date Robin!!

———

[isadora16aslani]

Piastri was in front of Sainz when exiting the pit and I had war flashbacks, I mean I heard g*nshots and b*mbs going off, people were screaming

[multifandombitxh]

Holy Ghost

Pairing: Ghost x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff(?)

Warnings: Mentions of g*nshots, blood, bullet wounds, suggestive themes, adult language

Summary: After escaping the firefight with Graves and the Shadows, Y/N doesn't quite make it out unscathed. Ghost does his best to tend to their wounds as they wait for Soap to join them at the church.

A/N: I told you I'd fuckin do it again. Taking requests for this man, working on some fluff as well :)

18+ MINORS DNI

"Just get here alive," Ghost commanded with his head tilted downward, his voice echoing from your own comms. You were busy patting down a bullet wound- barely grazed, but enough to be trouble. Blood was drawing lazy rivers down your bare arm, pooling at your fingertips and dripping to the floor.

Graves' men had good aim, you could give them that much. But not good enough.

"Soap's still out there," Ghost said to you over his shoulder. You responded with a nod.

"That's good," You replied, wincing as you began removing the soaked fabric from your wound. You'd been applying pressure for what felt like ages and it just wasn't enough. When red bubbled and gushed out of the gash you grunted, biting down on your lower lip and tossing the saturated scrap to the ground. "We need him if we're gonna finish this."

"Still bleeding?" He asked.

"Like a stuck pig," You said with a small laugh, tearing another piece of fabric from your shirt you'd decided had run its course. When it becomes life or death, things like walking around in a tank top are incredibly trivial. Your gear was sitting in a pile in the corner of the tower, some of Ghost's accompanying it.

"That's quite the biohazard," Ghost quipped, eyeing the bloody rag you'd just discarded. "Had your Hep B shots recently, by chance?"

"If you're not gonna help, you could at least shut up," You snapped, rolling your eyes and ripping another chunk of material from your shirt. You folded it into a square as best as you could and hovered over your wound, mentally preparing yourself for the pain. Holding your breath you pressed it against your skin, squeezing your eyes shut and releasing the air in your lungs.

"You're not applying enough pressure," Ghost declared, sounding very sure of himself. You weren't sure when he'd crossed the room to stand beside you, but whenever he did it, he was quiet as a mouse. "Here, I've got ya."

Ghost's gloved hand closed over yours before you could ask what he was doing, his fingers clamping down on your skin and his palm pressing hard into the wound. You had to admit, he was definitely more well equipped to apply pressure to a wound, but it didn't make you feel any less weak.

At the same time, it also hurt more.

"You'll need to share your weights routine with me sometime," You joked, keeping your gaze to the floor below. "I'll never understand how a person can gain that much muscle."

"That's an odd way to dish out a compliment," Ghost replied, a lilt to his voice. "But I'll take it."

Silence fell over the room, the sounds of rain pattering against the stained-glass windows of the church giving the whole place an eerie feel. Feeling yourself grow lightheaded, you pressed your palm to your forehead, groaning softly and blinking several times. A sick feeling settled in your gut, and for a moment you thought you were going to puke all over the floor. Next, sweat broke out over your skin in a sheen, and your eyelids felt heavy just to keep open. You couldn't possibly have lost that much blood, could you?

"Still with me?" Ghost asked.

"Physically, maybe."

"Mentally?"

"Mentally, I'm in Tahiti."

Ghost chuckled at your remark, a sound you'd never heard before. A small smile formed on your face, but then you felt your knees buckle, forcing you to stumble forward in order to catch yourself. He was quick to bring you back upright, the hand that wasn't keeping your blood inside you gripped your waist and hoisted you upwards.

"Can't have that," He sighed, glancing around the room for anywhere to help you sit down, but there was nothing. "Right, I'm gonna help you down, you just follow my lead, yeah?"

"Sure," You nodded, not fully aware of what was happening. Ghost released your bicep and knelt down, hooking his arm under your knees and pulling you up into his arms bridal style. You did your best to hold onto him as he lowered you both to the floor, keeping you in his lap as he went down. If you hadn't been a bit off from the blood loss, you probably would have questioned him about it.

Instead, you welcomed the embrace, leaning into his chest and letting out a soft sigh as you settled in. More blood trickled from your arm and anxiety finally set in. It wasn't stopping, even with Ghost's help. Sensing your tension, he caught your attention by leaning forward to whisper against your forehead.

"It's slowed down a bit," He reassured, reapplying the compress to the inflicted area, using his arm that was keeping you upright. His other arm was lazily draped over your legs, fingers balled into a fist near your bent knees. "This oughta help."

"At least we're in a church," You said dryly, "Quick funeral. Maybe Soap can conduct. You think he knows any bible verses?"

"Don't even joke about it," Ghost warned, his tone firm. "You'll be fine, just sit still."

"Sorry, Lieutenant," You said, dropping the lightheartedness for a moment to properly apologize.

Soap came through on comms again, as if stating his name summoned him. Ghost talked him through how to craft himself some weapons and defenses, and you felt bad that he was out there all on his own with no help at all. Thankfully, Ghost wasn't an amateur, and was able to assist to a small degree.

"Think he'll make it alright?" You asked after he finished his guerilla warfare lesson with Soap.

"He doesn't have a choice," Ghost replied, "He either makes it here in one piece, or he dies."

You shifted uncomfortably in his lap. "You're quite the optimist, sir."

"You can feign ignorance all you want," Ghost grunted, adjusting you to sit more comfortably on his thigh. "Doesn't change the circumstances."

"You have to pull out your Thesaurus for that one?" You asked jokingly, smiling to yourself. "Those are some big words, Lieutenant. You know they don't pay us to be scholars."

"They hardly pay us at all, Y/N."

"And yet, here we are."

A few minutes passed and your upper arm was starting to ache, the wound pulsating under Ghost's unrelenting hold. He hadn't let up for a second, keeping so much pressure on the spot you were sure you'd have bruises where his fingers dug into the skin. Rolling your neck, you softly moaned at the satisfying crack, then let out a small sigh.

"Enjoying yourself?" Ghost asked simply.

"Oh, yeah, I've always fantasized about being trapped in an old, dusty church with my Lieutenant, bleeding to death in his lap while our friends have been kidnapped or hunted down," You said in a monotone voice. "Really gets me goin'."

"Glad I could make it a reality," He scoffed, "Doesn't take much to please you then, does it?"

"I'm a simple creature, sir," You replied.

"I'll keep that in mind."

At long last, he finally released his grip on your arm, leaning forward to eye the damage. The wound had finally stopped gushing, thank the heavens, but was so caked in dried blood that it was hard to make out exactly how bad it was. Clicking his tongue, he turned your arm over in his hand to get a different angle before releasing it altogether.

"Sit tight," He said, gently sliding you off of him and standing. His knees popped as he rose from the floor, but you were too busy surveying your bloody arm to make any jokes about him being a grumpy old man. Just as you suspected, several fingertip sized spots were dotting the space around the gash, red and blue and angry. Smudged blood hid them a bit, but it was clear as day that he'd left several marks.

Ghost rifled through his bag for a bit before pulling something free, turning it over in his hands. He nodded to himself, tossing his bag to the side and returning his attention to you.

"You're not gonna like this," He warned, turning around to reveal a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You shivered at the sight of it, knowing exactly what was coming next. "But I can't have you dying of an infection on me. Shitty way to go."

Cursing the Shadows who did this to you, your nervous eyes found the ceiling as Ghost approached. Your back was pressed flush against the brick wall behind you, and you took several deep breaths. You heard the sound of him unscrewing the cap of the bottle and mentally prepared yourself for the inevitable sting. He sprayed some of it on his own hands, rubbing them together before looking back at you.

"Eyes on me, yeah?" He said, his voice low and soft. You squeezed your eyes shut once before turning your attention to Ghost, who was kneeling in front of you with one hand on your thigh and the other clutching the alcohol. His gaze was intense, but still, you nodded, pulling your lower lip between your teeth.

He didn't warn you before he began pouring the liquid over your arm. Despite your efforts to remain still and silent, your body lurched forward against your will, a strangled, drawn out groan rumbling in your chest. Lightning shot through your whole body as the clear fluid coated your wound, your nerves screaming and tears forming at the corners of your eyes. The burning sensation overpowered everything, and for a moment, your vision went white.

Instinctively, your hand flew up to stop the pain, closing around Ghost's wrist to try and pull the bottle away. Grunting, he pried your hand free and forced it to the side, pressing your hand down into the floor as hard as he could. His hand engulfed your own, covering it with ease as he pinned it down beside you. Wriggling against his hold, you let out a soft, unintentional whine, squeezing your eyes shut tight as another wave of alcohol flooded your wound.

"I know," Ghost reassured, "Focus on me, Y/N."

"It fucking hurts," You croaked, cringing at the weak tone in your voice.

"Amputation and sepsis hurt worse," He replied, eyeing his work for a moment before returning his attention to you.

Considering just how much blood and dust and bacteria had invaded the slice in your arm, Ghost was thorough, squeezing the bottle to control the flow. It felt like years, and you couldn't take it any longer. A strangled cry ripped its way out of your throat, your head falling forward and your chest heaving. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, your limbs locked up and your brain in survival mode.

A loud crash echoed through the church and you both jumped, two voices filtering in from the foyer below. Just as they burst through the front doors, your anguish was just starting to manifest through groans and sobs, but Ghost was quick to shut it down. The hand that had been keeping you still quickly clamped over your mouth, effectively muffling any sound that could come out.

"Shadows," He stated, "You need to relax or they'll find us."

Breathing hard through your nose, you maintained eye contact with your lieutenant, your eyes misting over as the pain finally started to subside. He placed the bottle on the floor nearby, then used his now free hand to grip the back of your neck. With one hand covering your mouth and the other drawing you closer, Ghost stared straight into your soul.

To try and bring yourself back down to Earth, you gripped the front of his shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric and clinging to it like your life depended on it. Ghost drew in a sharp breath as you latched on, his eyes widening for a moment before narrowing again. It looked as if he was concentrating hard on something, searching your eyes and quickly glancing down at his hand that covered your mouth every few seconds.

The look in his eyes was intense, and the hand on the back of your neck felt foreign, but welcomed. Any closer and your foreheads would have been touching, and for a split moment, you thought about doing just that. It wasn't the first time you felt compelled to show some form of affection toward him, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Ghost slowly removed his hand from your face, fingers gently sliding over the skin of your cheeks and jaw. Your mouth fell open as you sucked in shaky gulps of air, trying to stay as quiet as humanly possible. Both of you were caught in some sort of trance; the world around you falling away until all that remained was Ghost and his prying eyes.

Not that you minded.

"Keep lookin' at me like that and I'll give you something else to scream about," Ghost whispered, looking shocked at himself as the words left his mouth. You shivered involuntarily, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

In that moment, he was no longer your superior. He was just a man in a mask with dreamy eyes and a velvety smooth voice that sent your heart soaring. It didn't matter that the Shadows were just downstairs, or that your arm was stinging to high hell, or that you were stuck in that stupid church until Soap could find his way to you. All that mattered was Ghost and his tempting words.

"They'd find us," You reasoned, your voice barely above a whisper.

"They'd get a nice view before they die, then."

The Shadows noisily searched the church below, their voices traveling up to the tower. Windows shattered and benches were turned over, echoing throughout the building. It took what felt like centuries, but after a while, they finally gave up on their search and exited the building. It wasn't until the sounds of their boots became distant that either of you moved, but once they were gone, Ghost acted quickly.

As quickly as he could, he all but ripped his mask up enough to reveal his hidden mouth. You didn't have long to memorize what it looked like, because before you knew it, his lips were on yours in a heated kiss. The hand on your neck deepened the kiss as Ghost tilted his head to the side, lips aggressive and harsh against your own. You happily returned the gesture, sighing into his mouth and letting your eyes flutter shut. Your shaking hands reached up to cup both sides of his face, adrenaline coursing through you until your body felt light as a feather.

The moment your hands connected with his skin, he let out a sound you couldn't quite place- some sort of growl mixed deliciously with a moan. Boldness bloomed in your chest at his reaction and you let your hands wander downward on their own, taking note of how tense he became wherever they went. His heaving chest, the center of his ribcage, his hard stomach, his abdomen-

"Careful," He warned slowly, breaking the kiss to mutter in your ear.

"I thought this is what you wanted," You replied, withdrawing your hands.

"You have no fucking clue how badly I want you right now," He hissed, his hands abandoning your neck to grip your waist. "If it were up to me, I'd already have you underneath me on this filthy floor, trust me, love."

"What's stopping you?" You asked, anticipation building in your gut and his words going straight to your lower half.

"I'm not a religious man, Y/N, but the good Lord doesn't need to see what I'm gonna do to you."

"Should I consider this a confessional, sir?" You asked jokingly. "Usually there'd be a wall between us."

"There's something between us, that's for sure," Ghost quipped, his mouth turning up in a small smile.

"Lt?" Soap's voice startled you both, but Ghost was quick to respond, immediately regaining his composure.

"Go ahead, Soap," He said into the box on his chest.

"Hate to ruin such a lovely moment between friends, but if you could at least turn off your comms, the Shadows and I would appreciate it."

Your stomach dropped like a rock and you covered your mouth with your hand, eyes wide. Ghost cleared his throat and held your gaze as he spoke to Soap again.

"Message received," He said in a flat voice. This time, he made sure to flip the microphone switch, then returned his full attention to you.

"I'll wring his neck if he ever mentions it," Ghost declared, the pad of his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "Let's finish cleaning you up, yeah?"

[puturti]

Lit²le awkward 😔

scre²nshot that I found on Pinterest:

[awrkive]

OMG you make tlp!mingyu sounds so yummy & caring… ARE U TRYING TO MAKE US TEAM EDWARD VS TEAM JACOB ALL OVER AGAIN ISTG–

me about me:

[iiwaijime]

lina im losing my marbles in everyone’s asks they’re all over the floor rolling away and ur the next target

HI *EXPLOSION* *B*MB* *G*NSHOTS*

sending a recovery squad ur way <3

i regret every second I didn’t interact w u bc the moment u mentioned the mcu in that ask our souls got intertwined

REE DO NOT PLAY W ME RN I AM LITERALLY SHAKING AND SWEATING AND SOBBING (the first two at least;; last one is a hyperbole😞)

more after the cut bc i TALKED.

BUT BUT BUT I JUST GOT HOME FROM SCHOOL YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME AGAIN okay normaling again. FIRST OF ALL,,,, WHAT. WHY. I FELL TO MY KNEES. ur going to make me go back to my irondad spiderson fix it fic era. OR make me write that. LIKE??? AND THEN IT'S ATSUMU SO I WAS LIKE :) :) :) BUT THEN THE THIRD ONE?????? guys it was NOT casual and i hate that scene so much im like ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 every time i watch it it just hits right in the feels

thank u for the recovery squad tho i cackled so hard i had to sit down and then my cats judged me like BRO u cannot just look at me like that when u know u threw up in my room this morning where do they get the fucking audacity

i will be that aunt when my sister has kids trust🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

if u lose ur marbles i will pick all of them up for u. fr. 🫂 AND I KNOW RIGHT I SHOULDVE MENTIONED IT SOONER LIKE I AM NAWT PLAYING WHEN IT COMES TO MCU IVE WATCHED EVERY MOVIE UNTIL MULTIVERSE OF MADNESS LIKE THRICE EACH I LOVE THEM SM☹️☹️☹️☹️ its also how i found tumblr in the first place so!!!!! thanks guys!!!!!!!! AND LIKE ANY TIME U WANNA TALK MCU JUST DM ME BRO!!!! I WILL PULL OUT ALL THE FANDOM.COM ARTICLES THAT IVE SHOVED DEEP INTO MY BRAIN AND WE CAN 🤲 CONVERSE anyways sorry for yapping!!! this is captain america and his wife and also an owl on our roof even tho its 4pm (ignore the spray paint)

[jaybleu25]

i used to not mind stuff like this in media but as ive gotten older and things have happened in my life that view has changed

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

i never used to be scared of loud noises, but then my family began to yell and now i jump at every little thing

i never used to be scared of g-ns, but then someone in my family was killed by one and now anything that sounds like one terrifies me

growing up i never really understood death and its significance. but now that im older, and i actually understood what was happening?

it hurts a lot.

the idea that someone can just out of nowhere just...be gone. they'll never wake up. you'll never be able to talk to them again. you'll never be able to see them again.

and what confused me even more is that i barely knew this person; she and i barely ever interacted, only at family gatherings (and we barely did those), but when i was at her funeral everything just hit me and i just kept crying and crying

it felt like i lost a part of me even though i barely knew her and i didn't understand. i still don't

the funeral was all the way back in november but i still cant handle anything related to what happened. it's gotten to the point where i hate fireworks even more now because i cant tell if theyre actually fireworks or if theyre g-nshots

and the only way i can know is if i look out my window and that terrifies me, because what if it's the second thing??

what if they see me and try to hurt me like they hurt her??

i havent really been the same since then. its been harder for me to make things like scripts and videos because everything just feels like too much sometimes. ive been trying to take a nap whenever i feel overwhelmed but it's just made me feel tired all the time and i hate it because then i feel like i'm wasting time and i'm not being productive when i should be

i just wish the world wasnt so scary

why do people have to hurt each other

why cant everyone just be nice to each other

[daedriyth]

Tw: g*nshots, death

So, I've moved a lot in my life. This last year (2023) I moved in with my bf in July. Prior to that I was in the same neighborhood for like 7 years. It wasn't a good place. If you google the name all you get are shootings, robbing, and murders.

So tonight is NYE, and there are a lot of fireworks. Waay less than in the hood where I was but still some. I'm just trying to keep my heart rate down and breathing even.

Its not gunfire, its not gunfire

They like to shoot off a Lot of guns at midnight where I used to live

Thats been my mantra all night. Just trying to breathe.

2023 was hard, lost 2 furbabies and my aunt, had to end an engagement but stayed together as a couple. Had multiple medical procedures not work to help with my back pain. There was good too, like moving in with one of my boyfriends and his family (different partner than previously stated, we're poly) and finally living somewhere safe. My mom having a successful spinal surgery. Me getting all my furbabies back.

Idk where this post is going, kinda treating it like a journal entry I guess.

Anyways, I'm hopeful this new year will bring good things. If not then, I'll just keep pushing along.