#sorry i was thinking about the decline in quality of living again

[bish0ps]

While I think it's dramatic (and false) to say we're witnessing the death of creativity, I do think we're in an age where self expression will be smothered and discouraged moreso than if it were simply "going against the norm" on account of uniqueness not being profitable enough. Once we are free from this movement encroaching on every aspect of life, I think culture will flourish. I'm depressed that the remainder of my youth will be spent in an age where the demand to capitalize is only increasing

[wood-white-writer]

"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [5/...]

“Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down, I'll be there on their side. I'm losing by their side.”

— Mitski, "Bet On Losing Dogs"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. 

It's been a few weeks since the events in Orange Town, and Luffy notices something that others do not. So, he decides to ask you.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, LA!Verse, No (fully bodied) Buggy this chapter, Luffy being the precious cinnamon we all love and must protect above all else, flashbacks about Shanks, past discussions, Luffy and Reader have a heart-to-heart.

A/N: I was initially going to write them going to the Baratie this chapter, but it became too long so next one for sho.

Taglist:@kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk, @notyuralycat, @angeli-fucking-cat, @machinema7k (If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or leave a comment :))

You're sitting by the table in Party's bar, nursing a cold glass of rum against your cracked lips as you observe to the kid - Luffy - demonstrating his newfound Devil Fruit powers without any regard for poor Makino's furniture. 

You don't get him, at all. Then again, you don’t get kids. 

You've never thought of yourself as someone who easily got along with them ... or people in general. Shanks has always been the better-suited one for that kind of work. Whereas he is smiling and grinning at the kid’s mischief, you've barely offered him more than a glance at most.

Your crew has been positioned in Foosha village for the better part of the month, stacking up on resources and food in preparation for your next job. Incidentally, the Red-Haired Pirates also happened to be in town for similar excursions. You rarely see Shanks nowadays since you parted ways several years ago, but whenever you happen to come across one another, you share a drink on his tab.

While your crew is around and about, replenishing their strength and vigor for the work to come, you're content with just sitting here at your leisure. When you're not plundering or fighting or attacking Marine bases, you can't find it in yourself to do much of anything anymore. 

Nothing adds any purpose to your life save for what keeps you fed and clothed, which in the life of a pirate, simply means pirating.

"I've heard you had good fortune on your latest heist," Shanks says from where he's sitting opposite of you. "For your efforts, the Marines have granted you among the highest bounties in all of the East-Blue."

You hum noncommittally in response, not offering much to the conversation in terms of merriment. "The quality of the Marines has been in decline. It says more about their effort, or lack thereof, than mine."

"Do you know what they call you nowadays?"

"They call me a lot of names, you got to be more specific."

"'Cross-Hairs, the Beast of the East'. It's got a certain ring to it, don't you think?"

"Sure."

Shanks smiles the kind way he always does. Always has done.

"Gum-Gum Pistol!" 

The sound of yet another chair breaking has you rolling your eyes without even looking, and poor Makino ages ten years in seconds across the bar counter. 

"Luffy!"

"Sorry!"

Shanks laughs heartedly at the display, only to cut it short upon noticing Makino's even glare sent his way from across the bar. 

"You were careless," you state matter-of-factly and take another gulp from your drink. "You should've kept the fruit hidden more securely."

"Now, in my defense, I didn't think the lad would searching through my loot."

"Well, you should've." You slam your glass down, strong enough to leave a dent in the wooden surface. "What kind of captain leaves his loot undefended and unsupervised? Especially when it contains a Devil Fruit?"

Shanks doesn't argue with your statement and settles with taking a gulp of his own drink, letting your words simmer in his head. "You're right, I should've been more observant. Now, it'll be more difficult for him to achieve his dream."

"His dream? Of what? Becoming the King of the Pirates?" Try as you might, there's no suppressing the snort that escapes through your nose. "There's only ever been one King, and we all saw what happened to him. What do you think is going to happen to a kid who can't even swim?"

"Oh, come off it!" He gives you a playful nudge to the rib, which you reciprocate with a glare. He remains undeterred. "You mean to tell me you've never thought about finding the One Piece? Not even once?"

"I have no interest in whatever plunder Gol D. left behind." 

"Then, what does interest you?" He rests his elbow on the edge of the table and leans over to your side. "What is your dream?"

You grit your teeth under your lips, a flash of blue circulating in your head. "Dreams are for fools and children," you point your head to where Luffy is currently sitting, trying to put the chair back together with a half-empty tube of glue and little luck. 

"Come on, I know you better than that. Surely there's something in this world you want more than anything?"

"What I want is ..." You have half a mind to tell him the truth, whereas the other half wants to push the idea further down to the bottom of your chest. "Is another bottle of rum."

You raise your arm to Makino to gesture for another one, but Shanks is quick to lower it with a gentle shove of his arm. You flash him a scowl and brush off his hand, but unlike your crew or anyone else, he's not afraid.

"The point which I'm trying to make before you're completely pissed," he starts. "Is that no matter how much opposition one faces, it's that dreams are never out of reach if you have the will to reach for them."

He inclines his head over your shoulder, and you turn around to see Luffy successfully putting the chair back together. You don't know how he did it - it looked pretty busted minutes ago - but there it is, wholly intact.

And when the boy smiles, it's so vibrant and full of joy that it's almost blinding. He proudly runs over and shows the repaired chair to Makino, who proceeds to pat his head and hand him a plate of food.

"See?" Shanks grins. "Nothing is impossible."

"You can hardly consider putting a chair back together the same as achieving an impossible goal."

He shrugs. "Maybe not, but you won't know unless you try. All it takes is a little spirit."

You watch Shanks for a couple of minutes in silence, processing his mythic words, then shift your attention over to Luffy who's preoccupied with shoving an unholy amount of food into his mouth. If this is to become the future King of the Pirates one day, then it'll be an interesting future indeed.

"A little spirit, huh?" 

— — —

You're sad.

Luffy first notices it when you leave Orange Town, and it lingers throughout your voyage. 

For as long as he's known you, you've always been a person of relatively few words; never speaking unless you feel the situation requires it, and only acting when necessary. Even following the Kuro situation™, getting the Going Merry, and adding Usopp to his crew, he can tell that you're not all there anymore.

Not to be mistaken, you're not conspicuous with the way you behave. You still act like usual, talk like usual, however little, and commit yourself to your work on the ship, almost to an excessive extent. 

All in all, nothing’s changed about you. However, he’s gotten used to your face and general lack of expression most of the time, and though it doesn't seem to alter, he still catches onto the fact that you're sad. 

"Hey," he asks the group and props himself in the kitchen, legs crossed atop his seat. "Do you think she's any different?"

"Who? Your friend?" Nami asks, raising an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Well, I think she's sad."

"Doesn't look any different to me," Zoro supplies while polishing his swords on the table. 

Usopp's in the middle of munching a piece of loaf, and answers with his mouth still halfway occupied. "Dunno how she usually is, but she's kinda terrifying if you ask me."

"No, she's not," Luffy dismisses lightly. 

"What's her position on the ship, anyhow? How'd you come across her?"

"She's always been with me," Luffy answers without any thought. "And she’s a good fighter.”

Zoro — to everyone’s surprise — nods his head to this in concurrence.

Their Captain claps his hands together to get the subject back on track. "But anyway, I just think she seems kind of down now."

"How can you even tell? With eyes like these, —” Usopp puts both of his index fingers at the crow’s feet of his eyes and draws them back to imitate yours. It’s borderline shameful, truth be told. “— I can’t tell for shit what she’s feeling or thinking.”

“I just can.” Luffy shrugs.

“Has she said anything?” Nami asks. “Anything to make you ask?”

“No, not really.” He heaves a sigh and props his hand under his chin, contemplating. “But she's been different since we left Orange Town.”

"If you ask me," Zoro speaks up. "You should ask her about her relationship with that fucking clown."

"Who? Boogie?"

"Buggy," Nami corrects. "Didn't you notice that at the end? They have a history, it's obvious. They know each other, and I don't know what pirate customs are like nowadays, but I doubt you'd touch the face of an enemy unless there was something going on. Has she said anything about it?"

Luffy shakes his head. “No... but then again, she never does tell me much about anything unless I ask.”

The tangerine-haired girl blinks as if the answer to this whole predicament is obvious. She quickly comes to realize that, to Luffy, it’s not.

“So…” she prompts slowly.

“So…?”

She rolls her eyes at his inability to catch her drift. “Go ask her.”

It’s like the thought never even crossed Luffy’s mind in the first place because truth be told, it hasn’t. He lights up like a candlestick on the spot. “Yeah, I should just ask her!”

“Ask me what?”

The members of the Straw Hat pirates (save for Zoro) withdraw in various unique positions, having not heard you make your entrance before you speak. 

You’re standing in the doorway to the kitchen, eyebrow slightly quirked at the Baroque-esque scene in front of you. Deciding not to address the display, you simply ask, “Anything I should know about, Captain Luffy?”

Usopp doesn’t even dare to answer, because he knows you sure as hell don’t see him as a captain in general, much less your captain. He swears he notices you briefly look in his direction at the mention of the title, and a shiver runs across his skin. Like static electricity in the air.

“Oh, yeah,” Luffy turns to you, not an ounce of fear in his eyes as he pops the question. “Are you sad?”

You blink once, then twice, like the inquiry on its own is of unfathomable origins to you. “Do I look sad?”

The boy in the straw hat nods. “I think you do.”

“Then I’m not.” It’s not only an answer, but also a sentence that marks this subject as finished on your part. One that does not permit any subsequent additions.

You incline your head to the deck above. “We’re going to have company soon, likely Marines, and they seem to be in supply of heavy fire this time.”

———

The situation with the aforementioned opponents temporarily distracts the crew, yet Luffy maintains a close eye on you, taking note of anything that can point him to the source of the unknown problem. You talk relatively little with the other crew members, but you seem to have developed an amicable enough relationship with them compared to when you first met. 

Before, you could care less about getting to know them. Now, you’re actively going out of your way to ask Nami about her cartographic skills, even giving her tips for additions to her geographical detailing. You provide Zoro pointers on self-developed defensive techniques and ways to paralyze opponents in certain spots (which he seems appreciative of).

You even give Usopp a short nod when he tells you one of his fantastical stories, even knowing that they’re full of shit.

Luffy’s happy, but he still sees that you are not.

It’s all in your eyes. They’re hollow somehow, like the end of a barrel. He doesn’t know how he knows, only that he knows, and he’s known for a good while now.

So, that night, Luffy finds you in the kitchen by the windows, absentmindedly snacking on a red apple while you gaze into the dark nothingness outside. He also discovers that he’s subconsciously become quite observant of your habits as of late. 

For example, you specifically pick red apples above any other color when they happen to dock someplace, not even paying any mind to the green or yellow ones. Just the red ones.

“Hey,” he positions himself next to you on the bench, a piece of loaf tight in his hand. “Why are you sad?”

You turn your head just a fraction to the side to look at him, not annoyed, but not appreciative of the focus he’s settled on as of late. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? The Vice-Admiral looks a little weary as of late, after all. Are you sad about it?"

"Nope."

“So why do you insist that I’m sad?”

“Because you are,” he states like it’s obvious.

You huff humorously and return your attention to the window that supplies no real view. “How can you tell?”

“I just can.” He takes a generous bite of his food and continues talking, oblivious to the crumbles that fall while doing so. “When I’m sad, I—”

“Eat?”

“Well, yeah.” He swallows the bite down. “But I also like to talk about it with someone I trust. Shanks used to say that true friends are the kind of people you can share your heart with and not get hurt.”

This annoys you, that much he can tell. A nail digs into the apple you’re holding, leaving a crescent-shaped indent on the red skin. “Shanks said many things, and not all of it's true.”

This doesn’t deter him from pressing on the matter. “If you keep all the hurt inside, it’s going to turn bad. You know, Makino said that if you leave a piece of ham in the fridge too long, it’ll get sour and people can’t eat it.”

“Only you could find a way to compare this sort of thing to food.” You withdraw your finger from the apple and end up leaving it alone altogether. A minute or ten of silence waves between you, laced with unspoken questions and denied answers. “Tell me, Luffy, just how much did Shanks tell you about his past?”

He thinks for a moment, mimicking your movements by putting his loaf aside. “Just about his adventures with the Red-Haired Pirates, and a little about the time you served with him. Is it true you were strong enough to throw a three-hundred-pound man to the ground when you were thirteen?”

He swears it’s a snort that he catches leaving your throat, but it’s hard to differentiate it from your more-than-usual scoffs. “He exaggerated.”

“Really?”

“The man was two-fifty, at most.”

Luffy grins with genuine admiration, so much so that your face tilts back slightly, being overwhelmed by the mere brightness that is him. “Wow! You must’ve been quite a beast when you were a kid!”

He notices it again, the sadness that latches onto your eyes like insects to sour meat. Whatever brief smile adorned your lips moments ago disappears like it was never there at all. Thinking he said something wrong, Luffy prepares to apologize when you speak again.

Your voice is soft yet faint like you’re afraid speaking too loudly will make something bad happen. “It wasn’t just me and Shanks, back then, you know.”

The Captain of the Straw Hats thinks it’s almost unnatural of you to be this demure, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“Buggy was there, too. It was the three of us, together.”

“Oh, yeah.” He remembers it now. “He did mention that in Orange Town. You served the same crew.”

“… He did, did he?”

“He said you and Shanks betrayed him, but I didn’t believe him.” Luffy knows you and has known you for longer than he’s known a lot of people in his life. You’re one of the few permanent people he’s had, and he knows with a certainty that you’re not the kind of person who leaves anyone behind, not without reason. 

Even if you did have a reason for leaving Buggy, it must have been a good one.

Your mouth opens and shuts several times in the span of a minute like you’re hesitating to talk about the past. You’ve never been one to talk about it, except to share some details about your time as captain, and even that was limited to the bare minimum.

Still, Luffy, being in no hurry for you to reach an answer, waits patiently by your side until you do decide to talk about it.

Talk about what he believes is the reason for your sadness.

“We were close back in the days,” you begin slowly. “Me, him, and Shanks. It was us against the rest of the world, and we were going to sail together to the end of the seas one day. It was our dream.”

“Then, what happened?”

You put your palm over both your eyes and rest your elbow on the window frame, heaving a sigh that resembles someone who’s spent too much of their life working and working and working without catching any breaks. Pure, simple exhaustion weighs you down, Luffy can tell. 

When you speak next, you sound tired too, and perhaps a little strained. He can’t see your eyes, and so, he can’t truthfully tell what you’re thinking now. “The thing is, I don’t know what happened. All I know is that he decided he didn’t want to stick around.” You breathe through your nostrils. “Our captain was gone, and so was the crew, but we three were still together, and I thought we were going to stay together.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No … We didn’t. I don’t know what happened, but one day when I was talking with Shanks about what to do next, Buggy came in, and it … He looked at me like … Like he hated me.” You exhale. “He did hate me, and I don’t know what it was I did, but he practically told me that we were done … And then he left. I never saw him again, up until Orange Town.”

Luffy doesn’t require your eyes this time to tell that you’re sad now because you are. You’re so sad that it’s destroying you from the inside, and even that is an understatement on its own. There are no tears trickling down your cheeks, no quivers or thickness to your voice, no nothing to base his assumptions on, but he knows.

He stays silent for a short while, doing nothing but look at you. You’re one of the strongest people he knows. He’s seen you fight; seen the strength you possess, the fire in your eyes. You’ve stayed with him ever since Shanks left Foosha Village, you’ve looked after him from the sidelines when you thought no one was watching. 

You’ve been with him throughout everything, and seeing you like this makes him feel blue on your behalf. You don’t express it yourself – you never do. You carry your weight with the same kind of strength you always do, never letting anyone see you beyond just that, and sometimes, he wonders if you’re lonely because of it. 

At least, now he knows why you’re so sad. You’re heartbroken.

He’s never been acquainted with the feeling himself, has never felt any particular inclination toward it, but he can tell it’s your heart that’s hurting now, and it’s not as easy to heal as that cuts he received on his chest from the butler.

His hat seems to itch the harder he thinks about it, as if there’s something digging at his scalp through his hat. He thought Nami patched it up for him. He tries to scratch at it, but for some reason, it doesn’t cease. Maybe he’s got lice? 

He ignores it. “It’s weird. Bunky seems to think you were the one who left him for Shanks.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know. You’re not that kind of person.” He says it so easily, without a smidgen of doubt or hesitation. You look at him through your peripheral vision, and your eyes slightly widen at his statement. “But, do you know what happened between them? Shanks and Bonky, I mean?”

“No, I don’t.” You admit with a shake of your head. You’ve tried to figure it out for years, and at some point, you decided to give up. “Shanks never told me, but whatever it was, it was enough for the stupid clown to leave for… He chose a childish rivalry over me.”

“Then, there you have it. It’s all just a big misunderstanding, so why don’t you just tell him if you meet him again?”

“You seem awfully defensive of the guy who destroyed an entire village and almost drowned you.”

“Yeah, but talking about him seems to make you happy.”

You freeze for a bit, snort, and turn your back to the window frame, leaning back and crossing your arms across your chest in silent resignation. “I tried to explain things to him back in Orange Town, and a fat load of good that did. Like I said, he hates me, and he’s sure as hell not my favorite person at the moment. If we do meet again, it likely won’t end any better than it back in Orange Town.”

“You know, –” Luffy takes another bite of his bread. “It didn’t sound like he hated you.”

“Hmm?” You raise an eyebrow, halfway curious and halfway skeptical. 

“He still remembers that you like red apples and that you hide knives in your shoes. Is that true?”

You raise both your eyebrows and look at Luffy like he’s just grown a second head. Without a word, you pull your left foot up until it rests on the bench, and withdraw not one or two knives, but four. Small and subtle, hardly enough to turn any heads, but in a flash, you throw it across the kitchen until it lands on a specific spot on the opposite wall. 

Bull’s eye.

“We used to have knife-throwing competitions,” you reminisce idly, staring at the knife lodged deep into the wall. “I was good, but Buggy was better.” Your lip tilts up an inch or two. “We made bets, and whoever lost would have to steal a bottle of whatever liquor we happened to find in the next town we docked at.”

“Oh?”

“I ended up snatching quite a lot of bottles, but once every blue moon, he would have to snatch one instead.” You smile. It’s an actual, genuine, honest smile this time, and Luffy can’t help but marvel at the sight. It’s a rare thing for you to smile like you’re doing now. It’s usually brief or sarcastic and never seems to reach your eyes. 

This one does.

He thinks you look pretty when you smile. It’s your smile, and it’s so warm that he wishes you could do it more often. He tells you as much, and a red color falls over your cheek. You promptly turn your face to the other side to save face, and it makes Luffy think.

When he thinks about his dream of becoming King of the Pirates, he can’t stop himself from smiling ear to ear. So, that begs the question: “What is your dream?” 

What makes you smile?

“My dream …” You reach for your apple and hold it against your face, the uneaten side of it shining against your face. “Is unattainable.

“I don’t think it is,” Luffy says without missing a beat and takes your hand in his, determined to make you see that. “I think that no matter how much stands against us, dreams are never impossible if you have the will to reach for them. All it takes is a little spirit.”

He doesn’t know where those words come from, but he’s heard them from someplace, and judging by your staggered reaction, you’ve heard them too. 

“A little spirit, huh?”

“Exactly! So, please tell me, what’s your dream?”

You look straight ahead into the room, resting your elbows back on the window frame without a word. He thinks you’re about to decline his question or ignore it altogether. However, he’s surprised to hear you actually answer this time, truthfully too.

“My dream was to sail the seas with him again.”

Suddenly, the itchiness on his head stops, and it stays that way.

[otomefiend]

Alfons Sylvatica

1st Year Birthday Story: A hollow mirror hides the truth in momentary pleasures.

So much goodness of Alfons' inner monologue. We learn more about him in a roundabout way. I just love the mix of naughty, sexy and sad. That cg is so pretty, I could have a full feature of Al and Kate making out with that backdrop. OOPS forgot to mention it's NSFW. 👀

I spent forever tinkering with some lines, and I'm still on the fence with how much of Al's formal speech I want to incorporate so here's a general comment that I might edit this and other stories.

~~~

Alfons: "You said you wanted to celebrate, didn't you?"

Kate: "I've never heard of celebrating with alcohol and hookah in a place like this..."

Sitting in a corner of a small, dimly lit private room of the local 'watering hole,' Kate chastised me in a hushed voice.

Alfons: "Ha-ha! Did you really think you were going to have a wholesome birthday party in a cake shop?" 🎶

Alfons: "Now, move closer if you'd be so kind."

Kate: "..... what? Why do I have to get on your lap ......?"

Alfons: "Because it's more fun this way, of course. You're so uncouth."

Alfons: "I'm a selfless man, but... you sincerely wished to celebrate with me."

Alfons: "I'm sure I'll make you feel thoroughly entertained."

Kate: "....ugh!"

(How sweet of her not to curse at me this instant)

Until now, dear 'Robin' had to lead a truly peaceful existence in that good world of hers.

(I have no idea how she found out about my birthday or why she wanted to celebrate it)

I had no reason to refuse if she just wanted to have a good time.

(Even more so if it is a moment of entertainment to comfort her in her challenging life with the crown)

Alfons: "If you want to celebrate with me, forget all the difficulties and think only of pleasure."

I wrapped my arms around her waist and let my fingers roam her spine, making her squirm and look flustered.

Kate: "Ah... no, you can't...! Not in here."

Alfons: "Oh? But it's good because it's 'here'."

Kate: "Eh...?"

Alfons: "You didn't follow me because you thought I was a gentleman who would protect your chastity, did you?"

Alfons: "Dressed so cute, you're like a cake on display."

Kate: "That's because you said we were going to a party."

Alfons: "I wasn't lying, 'Party' is the name of the venue."

Kate: "Wha.... nn!"

A strong shiver ran through her body as I moved my fingers over her bare arms.

Alfons: "Heh... I like your body. It's honest."

Kate: "Ugh, I'm going home."

Alfons: "You're so cold. Then, let's say I spend my birthday alone."

Alfons: "I declined all invitations for tonight because you said you would celebrate with me..."

Kate: "...um."

(Well, it's not true)

I wouldn't make any special arrangements with anyone just because it was my birthday.

Kate: "...will you promise me that you won't do anything indecent?"

Alfons: "I can't promise that. I'm often told that even my presence is indecent."

~~~

Later, after laughing at her choking on hookah and providing her with the most indecent step-by-step instructions, we arrived at home---

Perhaps it was the sweet and easy-drinking quality of the coctails, but their hefty alcohol content left her completely drunk.

~~~

Alfons: "Right. Here we are, Kate."

Kate: "Mhm.... thank you..."

After carrying her into her room, I slowly lowered her onto the bed.

As I gently brushed her hair away from her flushed cheeks, she narrowed her eyes in pleasure.

(Ah, so defenseless...)

(You're a bit too soft to live in the dark)

(Even if you're cautious, you'll still get hurt the moment you stick your head out)

I was sure there would be a lot of turmoil in her life from now on.

( ...... I can at least accompany you on a momentary diversion like today's)

Kate: "I'm sorry... Alfons... your birthday..."

Kate: "Happy birthday, congratula...tions."

Alfons: "Ah, you're slurring. Please, say it again cause it's awfully cute."

Kate: "Ugh... you're horrible..."

(What're you like... Since you're comfortably drunk, I should leave you alone, though...)

I sighed, looking at Kate, now dazed and shaking painfully.

I took off one of my gloves and gently touched her hot nape.

Alfons: "You are not drunk. Your head is clear, and you don't feel dizzy."

Kate: "....., .....ah....."

As I twisted reality with my power to forcibly alter perception, Kate's eyes immediately became clear again.

Kate: "I'm... feeling better, thank you."

Alfons: "To be clear, you just don't have symptoms. That doesn't mean I got rid of the alcohol from your system."

Kate: "This ability... It's really amazing."

She pondered on something in silence, then looked straight at me.

Alfons: "... what is it?"

Kate: "Do you use it to make everyone... feel at ease?"

Alfons: "Yes, well. Depends on the situation."

Kate: "Won't they become... over reliant on you, when you're showing them convenient illusions in times of distress?"

Alfons: "People like that certainly exist amongst them."

Kate: "...What do you do in such situations?

Alfons: "I have a contingency plan."

Kate: "Which is..?"

Alfons: "I just walk away."

Alfons: "People are surprisingly forgetful when you distance yourself."

Alfons: "Though I'm careful not to get them to the point of dependendency. It's too much trouble."

Kate: "...Still, why are you showing illusions like these...?"

Alfons: "One needs a little bit of entertainment in life, don't you agree?"

Kate: "... This sounds strangely altruistic."

Alfons: "Indeed. I'm the epitome of altruism."

Kate: "But it's irresponsible to run away."

Alfons: "Yeah, I'm also an irresponsible arsehole."

Kate: "Seriously..."

Kate: "That's how you keep me from getting too involved."

(---ah)

(She's far too observant)

Her direct gaze made me flinch at times.

Ever since she arrived at the castle, her heart has been busy with worries and fears.

She tried to confront things far too seriously, considering that, after all, it was only for a limited time.

Despite being fragile and soft, she had the strength to face her fear of getting hurt...

I was envious and, at the same time, a little --- scared.

Kate: "I thought I'd get an idea of who you are by asking you about your birthday memories, but..."

Kate: "With alcohol and hookah... and your indecent pranks... you managed to dodge it, didn't you?"

Alfons: "I like the term 'indecent pranks'. The way it sounds..."

Kate: "... see? You're doing it again..."

It couldn't be helped since the truth was nowhere to be found.

(Even the fact that today is my birthday I made it up on the day I met El)

I didn't even know my real birthday. Or where I was born. Not even my real name.

But I had no intention of seeking the truth.

(Whatever the truth is, eventually --)

Kate: "I'm... very interested in you."

Alfons: "Isn't it natural to be interested in indecent things?"

Kate: "No, it's not! That's not all...!"

Kate: "It's because sometimes your face looks empty --- just like now."

(... empty face)

(Mine...?)

Kate: "Therefore...... I'm curious as to why."

(-- ah)

(As expected, she's scary)

For a moment, I felt like I was about to be exposed, so I deliberately took a step back.

Alfons: "I'm touched that you were concerned about me."

She pursed her lips in frustration, as if she sensed that I was not going to answer her question.

Kate: "...I guess I didn't get to celebrate your birthday much today."

Kate: "Before we call it a day, is there anything you would like me to do?"

That was at least something I could respond to, feeling a growing sense of danger, heightened by her strong, searching gaze.

(I want her to have a hard time)

(I don't want her looking straight at me anymore)

Softly reaching my hand out, I touched the unprotected nape of her neck.

Kate: "... what---"

Alfons: "`Isn't it customary to kiss someone when celebrating their birthday?`"

Her strong gaze wavered and became dull.

Kate: "....ah,... "

Kate: "Yes, you're right... Sorry, I don't know how could I forget?"

(Yes, this is good)

(Once she wakes up from this illusion... she will have no desire to search for the truth about me)

Alfons: "It can happen to anyone... Now, come here, please."

As I lay down on her bed and invited her to join me, I could see Kate's throat go up and down.

She straddled me, lifting up her pretty, cake-like dress.

Alfons: "...passionately, please?"

Kate: "....yes....mn..."

A kiss with the sweet scent of a hookah.

When I pushed the tip of my tongue into her mouth, her shoulders shook in surprise --- followed by her enthusiastic response.

As I teased her inside, she reacted with honesty, guiding me to her pleasure spots.

Kate: "ah....ha.....?"

Her eyes wavered in confusion as I reached under her dress and stroked her thighs.

Was she already accustomed to 'indecent pranks' or had she become less vigilant?

Maybe it was because of the innocent wish to give me a passionate birthday kiss...

I was able to caress her body with little resistance.

(....how far will she let me go?)

(I only made her believe it was 'okay' to kiss me)

Kate: "Mm.....nn, n....!"

(She's so adorable)

I traced over her secret area through the underwear and slid my finger into the gap where the fabric had been shifted.

The kisses became more and more intense as I teased her wet spot ---

Kate: "Nn, no...!"

The moment I slipped my finger inside her, she recoiled and pushed back my chest.

Kate: "Birthday celebrations... are supposed to be just kisses, right!?"

She said so in a loud voice --

Kate: "....huh!? T-that... I-I..."

She seemed to realize the abnormality of her statement and suddenly put her hand over her mouth.

Katie: "What am I......doing now?"

Alfons: "What, you ask? Isn't it obvious...? It's a kiss to celebrate my birthday. Very passionate, I might add."

Kate: "What!? Why..."

She looked down at her body with a mixture of turmoil, pleasure and shame.

Kate: "Please remove your finger..."

Alfons: "Are you sure? Where it is right now... says not to pull it out."

Kate: "You used your ability....?"

Alfons: "Yes. I just fancied you to do my bidding."

Kate: "...!?"

Kate: "....You wanted me to kiss you?"

Her eyes twitched slightly in anticipation of the truth.

(...Please, don't look at me like that)

(You know it's going to hurt)

Alfons: "--No? I only wanted to toy with you using my power."

Kate: "...."

She glared at me with eyes still moist with pleasure.

(Pathetic and cute)

(I want this terrible experience make her forget about my birthday)

(I won't let her in)

Into my past, into my future, into my heart.

If I let her, who was fragile and gentle, step in too deep ---

I'm sure I would leave her with scars that never fade.

(There's only room for momentary pleasures between us)

(It's best for me and her that this doesn't go any further)

Alfons: "You have my sincere thanks for the birthday wishes."

In a daze, she watched me leave the room.

~~~

The reflection of my lips on the windowpane showed traces of her rouge.

(She went so far as to put on beautiful makeup just because she was going to a party with me... how adorable)

Why did I make her kiss me when there were other ways to keep her from getting too close?

Kate: "....You wanted me to kiss you?"

(... not a chance)

Alfons: "Impossible."

Traced with my fingertips, the red colour spread to the skin,

From the mark that would disappear by tomorrow morning --

I couldn't take my eyes off it for some reason.

~~~

The letter

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

So I just thought about the dementia scenario with Yves and I’m like “would he also be this way with someone with a another terminal illness?” Like would he also try to prolong their life as much as possible despite the suffering and pain they are going to because he quite literally cannot pull the plug.

I guess in his mind, letting the reader die would be going again his promise to protect you but what if the reader is lucid enough to be able to actually TELL him what they want and how they just want to be at peace even though he has good intentions, he’d quickly be looked at as the villain in this scenario. Then again he could just drug the hell out of the reader in order for them to not feel anymore pain or stress while he tried to prolong their life 🤔 srry for zhe angst, I was just thinking about this while driving to work today fr

Do not be sorry, I eat angst for breakfast, lunch and dinner AND supper.

The ask in question

Tw: dementia tingz

Do not get Yves wrong, he isn't there to be a hero for you; he is your caregiver. Although he would rather not be seen as the villain, he doesn't mind being one if he thinks it will earn you (and him) the best possible life.

Actually, he was supposed to let you die. You're not supposed to live past a certain age as your quality of life will only decline exponentially despite the round-the-clock care Yves would provide. So his intentions to keep you alive as long as possible is anything but good, it was for himself.

He couldn't let you go. Even when it felt like a million daggers have pierced his heart during those moments of lucidity, where you beg and beg for him to put you out of your misery. But Yves can't. He can offer his tears and apologies, his eternal attention and love, his unyielding care, but he cannot possibly consider the idea of cutting your life short when he knows he could prolong it.

If you insist, all he could do is to gently hush you as he cradles your frail form in his arms. Yves would stroke what's left of your hair and give you some remorseful kisses on your forehead. Yves would absolutely increase the dosage of your drugs to alleviate your distress, but only to a certain extent.

Yves would sing to soothe you, and it works. But he couldn't soothe himself, so he held you closer in his arms.

Closing his eyes, mumbling earnest apologies against your temple as you doze off again. His hands caressing your wrinkled face, you're still so beautiful in his eyes.

He sniffles, letting his tears of anguish wet the clothes Yves carefully sewn to maximize your comfort.

Yves simply cannot let you go.

[hiskillingjar]

Hey! I hope you're having a nice day. I'm the anon that asked about the inside names a while ago, I really appreciate you getting out of your way to answer me! <3. I was thinking, could you please write Ren x Strade where Ren gets jealous of one of the new victims and Strade "consoles" him by letting him watch TV with him in the sofa and *maybe* having some fun only the two of them? I firmly believe that Strade canonically did those kind of things (even if we didn't see it) to keep Ren closer and not make him want to escape. You're free to decline the request btw, no pressure intended! Hope you have a great day (:

huh…the poison really DOES drip through (that's a succession reference because i enjoy quality television)

1700+ words, she/her for a fem mc

Ren had grown accustomed to his new routine in Strade’s domain, for lack of a better word.

In the mornings (or early afternoons), he’d wake up, make breakfast, clean up after himself, then maybe, occupy his time with a new show or his filtered internet access. Mid-day, he’d eat lunch, take a nap, and, of course, try not to get himself killed (an important task!) In the evenings, if he made it that long, he’d make dinner, clean up, and maybe have a bath to balm his new wounds, before going to bed.

Then the cycle would start all over again, day after day.

It was easy, despite the danger, and it was stable, and though he was smart enough to know that this wasn't what a life should be, living like a captive animal, too scared to make even one mistake lest he be punished for it, there was a certain comfort to knowing exactly what he was going to do, every day for the rest of his life.

Hence, his irritation when a new pet had come in and fucked all that up.

And hence why now he was cleaning up after a dinner he hadn't even made (or enjoyed enough to warrant his exchange of chores. She was a vegetarian, for god's sake.)

He seethed silently to himself, dragging the metal scouring sponge up and down a greasy frying pan, sticky with brown sauce and burnt tofu, turning the dishwater a muddy brown colour.

This was just about the chores, he told himself, this was about the disruption to his routine throwing him out of wack and disorientating him, it was just that.

His anger surely had nothing to do with the beaming smile Strade gave her when she presented dinner, reminding the young man of a husband and a new (inexperienced) wife, or the way he pet her hair all the while as he ate, or even the way he complimented the meal, commenting that she should make dinner more often, because "Ren's got a routine about his cooking" and he’d grown bored of it.

It was nothing to do with that, surely.

No way. 

“God, I can see that scowl from the other room.”

Ren let out a surprised yip when he heard Strade’s voice, dropping the pan in the soapy water and soaking the front of his tank top.

He always had a way of sneaking up on him.

“S-Strade,” Ren replied, looking over his shoulder to the older man, who was idling in the doorway of the kitchen, picking his teeth. “Sorry, I, um…I’m just doing the dishes.”

“I can see that,” Strade replied as if it was obvious (and it was) before he crossed the threshold of the kitchen and paced towards the younger man. "You're looking pretty dour, Ren. Why the long face, hm?" He then asked, raising a brow and leaning against the kitchen island, his hip slightly cocked.

"It's…it’s nothing," Ren murmured softly, his gaze going back and switching between his shaking hands, bunched up in the front of his murky grey tank top, and the dirty dishwater where the pan was still waiting to be cleaned.

"It's not nothing, otherwise you wouldn't be in such a mood," Strade retorted with a huffed chuckle. "Come on, tell me what's on your mind. I can’t deal with you acting bitchy for the rest of the evening."

"I just..." Ren sighed, forcing himself to relax. He had a tendency to be on edge around Strade, though. 

“Just?” Strade drawled out. “Don’t lie to me, Ren. You know how bad you are at it.”

"I…” Ren’s voice was barely a whisper as he glanced off to the side, his face heating up and feeling hot. “I miss you, I suppose."

"You…miss me?" Strade sounded genuinely surprised as he took a step closer, encroaching on the younger man’s space, as he so often did. "Well, that’s pretty silly. We live in the same house, buddy. I see you every day."

"You know what I mean," Ren replied quietly, biting his lip, his sharp, little fangs hooking over his lips and marking them with stark indentations, about to bleed. "It’s like….since you picked up the new girl, it's just been...different, ya know. Like, with everything and not just…mm, between us."

Strade was quiet for a good while, his golden eyes drifting upwards with thought, before he let out a good-humoured chuckle (low and pleasant and rumbling), shaking his head fondly as he stepped even closer to the young man and slid his big palm along the exposed skin of his back. 

"Are you jealous, Ren?" Strade murmured, his voice low and almost teasing.

"Of course, I'm fucking jealous," Ren replied openly (he was never good at lying anyway), his voice an irritated rasp as his extremities bristled with nervous (quietly delighted) energy at being touched so intimately. "I’m all alone and you've got a new...thing to play with. She's even doing all my chores, like...like you're husband and wife or something"

"Mm," Strade hummed with subdued amusement, resting his stubbly chin on Ren's shoulder and rubbing at the space where his skin and tail met. It was incredibly sensitive. "See, I always thought you didn't like my games...you fought back hard enough that I thought that way, anyway..."

"I-I don't," Ren said, his fingers curling into tight fists, trying to ignore the little jolts of pleasure that shot through his back as Strade pressed his thumb against the nub of flesh at the base of his tail. "But I, ah...i-it was worth it when you were nice to me, you know. Now, you just...ignore me. I hate it."

"Hmph," Strade huffed out a chuckle, so effortlessly charming, so easily likeable, no wonder he had no trouble picking up new prey. "Come now, there's no reason to be jealous. You know you're my first, don't you, fuchs?"

Ren said nothing but shivered as he felt Strade lean in even closer, felt his hot breath on his skin, the warmth and lowness of his accent when he said his pet name for the younger man enough to make every part of his body throb with desperate, needing want. 

He was a sucker, that was for damn sure. 

"You'll always be my first. Having someone new here doesn't get rid of that." Strade's hand ran further down, stroking over his tail before landing on his backside, giving it a firm grope. "There really is no reason at all to be jealous of someone new...though I have to admit, it's incredibly cute."

"Strade-" Ren whimpered, shaking hands gripping the edge of the marble counter (expensive, bespoke, how much blood had been spilt for him to afford this kitchen, this house, this life?)

"If I were a worse person, I'd use that to my advantage, you know." He continued, his fingers greedily palming Ren's ass before slipping beneath his shorts and reaching to the front. cupping and squeezing his slowly hardening cock as he pressed his cheek to Ren's, stubble-dotted skin against his, smooth and youthful and ripe for the taking. "Take this opportunity to see you really rip into my new pet, tear her apart, just for you to prove how loyal you are to me."

Ren bit his lip hard enough that he felt the slow trickle of blood bead down his chin, but the pain didn't deter him from shifting his hips forward and seeking more of Strade's warm grip.

"But, well..." The older man mused. "I'm pretty bad, but I'm not that bad."

"Mm," Ren moaned, bringing his fist to his lips to keep himself quiet (and to wipe away the blood) as Strade worked his cock to full hardness, his knot swelling with blood. "You're awful..."

"Ah, I don't think you mind," He quipped with another low chuckle, pressing his lips to Ren's cheek and squeezing him a little tighter. "Otherwise you wouldn't be jealous."

"Ngh-" Ren's hands went down to Strade's, his weak grip pulling at his wrist and his hips shifting forward even more, desperate for any degree of attention that the older man would give him, no matter the cost.

"You're my boy, Ren," Strade reminded him, his lips trailing down his trembling jaw, in a gesture as close to a kiss that someone like Strade could manage. "My number one. I'll never be able to replace that. You do know that, don’t you?"

"Mmhmm, yeah," Ren stammered, his voice weak and quiet and so utterly submissive that it made his legs (and cock) twitch. "I'm...mm, I'm your boy..."

"Yeah, you are," Strade growled indulgently, pushing his own hips forward and letting Ren feel the growing hardness of his cock through his khakis. "I hope you don't forget that, fuchs...I'd hate to have to remind you."

"Mm...n-no, sir," Ren replied quickly with a jerked nod of his head. "I won't forget, promise."

"Good boy," Strade praised, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head (right next to his twitching ear) and prying himself away, idly groping his cock as he did so but looking as casual and easy and so fucking untouchable, like he always did. "Hey, how about we have a night together, just us two?"

"H-Huh?" Ren looked towards the older man with a confused look (apparently unaware or uncaring just how much his cock was tenting his loose shorts).

"Yeah, I've got one of those, ah…those nature shows you like recorded." He beamed, just as he had with the girl when she'd made dinner, and it was enough to make Ren’s heart hurt. "How about it? Boy's night?"

Ren didn't care about nature shows. 

But Strade did, and it was one of the few things they actually did together, before the girl had interrupted their peace. 

So, Ren smiled back, his tail wagging and his ears perked up high on his head.

"Y-Yeah! That sounds...really great." He nodded eagerly. "Um, let me just finish the dishes and then we can...yeah, watch it."

"Wunderschon," Strade laughed handsomely and crossed his thick arms over his chest. "That’s great, I'll get it queued up.” He turned to leave the kitchen. “But don't take long, buddy, or I'll start without you."

"Sure, won't take long." Ren smiled to himself again, turning back to the dishes.

"Oh, and Ren?"

"Hm?"

"You really should warm up to our new guest already, hm? I never said I minded sharing her with you...and she's a better fuck than you probably give her credit for~"

[baekgufiles]

sunghoon’s love languages as your bf !! (pt. 2)

pairing: sunghoon x reader (not gender specific !!)

genre: fluff | slice of life (i guess?)

word count: 0.8k words

warnings: mentions of weight and self awareness, pet names, rlly cutesy again

a/n: omg the first part got like 60 notes real quick even though my profile is basically empty??? Tysm 😭

QUALITY TIME he’s the type to say “i miss you :(“ even though you see him like almost everyday. Would stick around as much as he could possibly could.

«hey»

«open the door»

those were the texts you read as you hesitantly open the front door of your apartment. a very smiley sunghoon received you with the phone still in his hand.

"what are you doing here?" you scolded and rushed to hug him at the same time.

"turns out our flight took off way earlier that we thought and I had some spare time so…" he shrunk his shoulders.

"so? you’re spending the night?" you were very excited to spend time together after enhypen’s 3-month-long tour on america.

"i am" he confirmed as he took your hand "but first I’m taking you on a date"

"sunghoon you don’t have to do that, you must be tired" you tried to decline.

"are you joking? i just got off a 13 hours flight. there’s nothing i would like more than going for a walk" he interrupted, quickly. maybe he was even more excited to see you.

"okay, okay, we’ll go. i’m getting us coffee ice cream" you announced, picking up the house keys.

"by the way, why didn’t you open with your own set of keys?" you curiously asked.

"i don’t know, maybe because last time i tried that you almost broke my rib?" he said, ironically.

"oh, yeah, that. sorry" you answered, smiling like an angel "on my defense, it was dark and you were supposed to arrive 3 days later"

sunghoon giggled "i missed your excuses so much"

your eyes soften as you replied "i missed you too"

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION i feel like he would struggle the most with this one idk why. bro would drop some random phrase like “you’re really pretty. not as much as me obviously, but still pretty” for sure

with a heavy sigh you blocked another account from your dms. ever since a sneaky photo of you with sunghoon was filtered, some crazy fans have managed to found your user name.

at first it wasn’t that big of a deal for you, you were well aware of how far people can go for their idols. but lately it had became more and more hurtful to receive insults daily. they would criticize anything about you; your smile was ugly, you were overweighted and even your nose turned out to be crooked and you had never noticed before.

the self awareness, more than ever before, was a commonplace now. You dropped the phone, creating accidentally loud noise as you collapsed on the sofa. you always kept pretty well with criticism but this situation was taking over you.

"baby, are you okay? I think I heard something" his voice sounded careful as he leant to the living room. the preoccupied expression appeared as soon as his eyes met yours, glossy from tears. sunghoon rushed towards you, embracing your figure as you hipped from the crying.

a couple minutes later, sunghoon spoke again in a whisper "can you tell me what happened?"

"it’s… it’s not that big of a deal really "you said between hiccups.

"sweetie, if it wasn’t that important you wouldn’t react like this" he rubbed your back, gently.

instead of talking, you passed your phone to him, the inbox open. sunghoon quickly scrolled throw the screen, his face becoming reddish and his eyes darkening.

"this is what has been bothering you?" he suddenly turned towards you. too embarrassed and still sensible to talk, you burried your head on your arms, but still nodded to let him know.

"y/n you can’t be serious" he spoke, carefully raising your face with one hand "they don’t know shit about me! how could they know what it is good for me?"

"but they’re your fans, they know-"

"they are not my real fans if hating you looks like a good idea for them. they don’t have any right over my relationships" both of his hands were resting on your cheeks now, keeping your eyes from avoiding him "listen. we both know words are not my strong, but i could keep going forever when it comes to you and i will if you don’t start to behave as my cute, confident girlfriend right now"

you lightly laughed, rubbing your eyes one last time. sunghoon felt the pressure on his chest dissipate as your breathe calmed down a bit "thank you for that. it’s just that, you know, you’re so talented, comforting, handsome and everything. sometimes I feel like you deserve so much better than me"

"you’re not perfect and neither i am! but you know what? we don’t need to be perfect to be the perfect couple. and let me tell you," he continued, fully serious, hugging you one more time "i have yet to see a pair that looks nearly as good as you with me""

@ baekgufiles

[songofsaraneth]

4, 21, 36

4. Favorite science fiction book(s)

Ooooh i think my Favorite piece of sci fi is actually a novella but i feel like no one is likely to ask the 'favorite novella' question so I'll list it here anyway: Silently And Very Fast by Catherynne Valente, which is available to read online in full from Clarkesworld. It's weird, it's emotional, it's a little sad, it blurs the lines about what it means to be human/a person: and that is my favorite combination of things.

Similarly, the Murderbot Diaries series as a whole is high up there for me, for their combination of fun romp, meaning of being a person, and closed-off character learning to open up.

Actual novel-books. I feel like if I read it now I would probably go "hm" about some parts that I'm sure have not aged so well but Snow Crash was formative to me as a young teen as well as to the direction science fiction itself as a genre, so i'm giving it a spot on the list.

And lastly, even Douglas Adams agreed that he was not really writing sci fi but just using a sci fi setting as a backdrop, but I can't discount my years of enjoyment from Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy either. Some runners-up (runner up's???? idk): I really enjoy the Vorkosigan Saga books though the later ones sort of decline in quality i think. But the first ones following Miles as a main character, The Warrior's Apprentice and The Vor Game, especially were a bright ray of sunshine when i was drudging through "classic" sci fi novels in 2017. Loved the Imperial Radch books because we have found again an example of my favorite trope: an AI/robot sort of entity becoming A Person (im just a sucker for nonhumanity themes). I also did really like Ninefox Gambit and The Three-Body Problem for hard sci fi, but liked the following books in their respective trilogies less. Also not a 'book' but the multimedia sort of webcomic 17776 is another story i love. ok i have to cut myself off or i'll go on forever

21. The book(s) on your school reading list you actually enjoyed

I think the book I had the most fun reading in class was in 4th grade when we did The Westing Game. It was a little mystery story and it was one of the few times I didn't just read the whole thing ahead and we'd really talk about what we thoguht was gonna happen next, whodonnit, motives, etc. And at the end my class (which was actually only like 7 people because it was the advanced reading class) all dressed up as a different character and brought in props for them and other classes came in and could talk to us and read little synopses and try to guess who did the murder themselves. Except since there were more than 7 characters we also had to make a bunch of dummys of the missing characters to sit in those chairs and afterwards the lifeless yet life-size plushie of Sydelle Pulaski lived in my basement for like. 8 years. no idea what happened to her... sorry Sydelle!

36. Your absolute most favorite character(s) from any book you've ever read.

ooouurrghhhh... this is so hard but i think just due to how immediately and profoundly i imprinted on her, and how the archtype of her character played out similarly in subsequent books and every time it ruined me like an earthquake, i have to go with Rachel from Animorphs. she's angry! she's violent! she's afraid of what that means she might become! so she lets herself become a tool for the war so she doesn't have to dwell on the question because if she does, it might break her, and they can't afford that so she shuts away those fears into a little box. uhg every time i reread the series i get 1000 emotions about her all over again.

[sakebytheriver]

Unpopular opinion time:

They should have only brought back Catherine Tate to Dr Who and left Tennant's doctor out of this

I'm sure the story is gonna be like he goes specifically back to her because of this weird repeat regeneration, but that's flimsy at best and easily could have been reworked to make it so that Ncuti Gatwa's doctor has to go to Donna for plot reasons instead, I think revisiting Donna's story is smart, there's a lot that can be done with the unfinished threads they left her with and she's a fan favorite so using her to introduce us to a new companion which turns out to be her daughter is honestly pretty clever and I really like that idea, but I know that the only reason they're doing it is because people really loved the dynamic of Tate and Tennant and are banking on the nostalgia factor along with Tennant's now incredibly famous name bringing in viewers rather than writing a good story to introduce us to the new doctor, Ncuti Gatwa, and his companion and their connection to the show that preceded them. Do Tate and Tennant have a wonderful amount of chemistry together that was definitely my absolute favorite dynamic of the show? Yeah one hundred percent. But if you're gonna try and tell me Ncuti Gatwa and Catherine Tate wouldn't also have an equally unique and electric kind of comedic chemistry together absolutely on par and cleverly purposefully similar to the dynamic of Donna and 10 that makes the veiwer feel a sense of weepy nostalgia without needing Tennant there for one single bit to make it all work then I'm sorry, you are not allowed to speak to me

And honestly, the return of Tennant and Tate has really only served to completely overtake the entire conversation surrounding Dr. Who and in turn the first female doctor, Jodie Whittaker, and the first black and queer doctor, Ncuti Gatwa, are both being overshadowed by two white faves from the less enlightened past of the show and the fandom in a way that just gives me flashbacks to the antiblackness that was the entire Martha Jones companion era, I feel like I'm being transported back in time to my youth watching everyone go gaga for Rose while pretending Martha either didn't exist or worse while I couldn't understand for the life of me what was so special about blondie when Martha was twice the character she was, but then again she was also given arcs and plotlines that were less than half as well written as Rose's so like the audience isn't the only one sharing some blame here

In conclusion I guess my point is that they should have left Tennant to Good Omens and only brought back Catherine Tate, because they didn't bring back Tom Baker when Sarah Jane made a guest appearance during Tennant's era and the only reason they're doing it now is for a cheap cashgrab twist that'll never live up to what might have been if the writers and producers actually decided to put in the actual work of writing a good launching off from Jodie into Ncuti and the return of Catherine Tate's Donna Noble and I shall weep with thoughts of what could have been for two actors who deserved better, Jodie Whittaker and Ncuti Gatwa deserved to have eras and debuts that went down in history, but as of now due to the decline in writing quality over the years the producers and writers have decided that instead of fixing that they will go for the cop out of nostalgia bait instead and the worst part? It's going to work.

[neil-neil-orange-peel]

What was the rick mayall comedy with ade that rheyre two old fucks living in an apartment together... ik thats so vauge but im trying to remember the name of it to watch it again 😭 i just re watched all of tyo and neeeddd to find it again lol

Also hope your doing well its been awhile since ive been on tumblr to see or ask about ur page but i think abt u occasionally and im like yeah i hope theyre doing well keeping the tyo fandom alive

Also is there no charictor limit on these asks now????

Hi! Sorry it's taken me a while to answer this.

It sounds like you're describing Bottom, the '90s sitcom where Rik and Ade played two broadly middle aged bastards at the bottom (get it?) of society, loafing about, being pervy, and causing chaos. It isn't quite as surreal as The Young Ones, but it does feature lots of slapstick violence - Richie and Eddie have at least one very creative physical fight per episode - and there are occasions where something extra mad will happen, like the ceiling caving in, underpants being filled with custard, and fire farts (to name a few examples). Christopher Ryan also appears in a few episodes as one of Eddie's mates, Dave Hedgehog.

One of the original inspirations for Bottom was Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot, which Rik and Ade both loved and thought was funny. It was one of the things they bonded over at uni, and the two of them got to star in a run of it in the early '90s (again, with Christopher Ryan).

There were three series of Bottom from 1991-1995, totalling at 18 episodes. All episodes were available on Dailymotion the last time I checked - in fact, I have a post somewhere on this blog with links to them, though it may very well be outdated by now. If you have a mooch around online, you should be able to find them.

The reason I'm guessing you mean Bottom is because Richie Richard and Eddie Hitler live together in a (disgusting) flat in Hammersmith, and there are some episodes set entirely within this horrid hovel. However, Filthy, Rich and Catflap also sees Richie Rich and Eddie Catflap sharing a (not quite as disgusting) flat, but these characters were a bit younger - and, to be honest, Bottom is the more highly regarded of the two sitcoms, though I don't think FR&C is anywhere near as bad as some critics made out.

Rik and Ade made five live stage shows for Bottom (Bottom Live) between 1993-2003. In fact, the fifth Bottom Live was the last substantial work they did together. All five of these have been available on YouTube for some years, so I assume they still are. I personally just slightly prefer the sitcom (or maybe I'm just jealous I can't go and see Bottom Live 😂), and I think a general rule of thumb is the quality does decline a little across the five (apologies to my comedy gods, although I think Ade might agree with me), but they are all absolutely worth a watch. Rik and Ade break character in them from time to time, and they're allowed to say fuck.

They also made a Bottom film in 1999 called Guest House Paradiso, which features Simon Pegg. Rik and Ade play the same characters, but now they run an appalling hotel on the Isle of Wight and their surnames are different (which Ade acknowledged when I went to see him touring with his autobiography was inexplicable). The film is not for the weak of stomach, certainly not for anyone with emetophobia, and unfortunately it does suffer from the curse of most sitcom movies apart from Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa in that it doesn't quite translate. To be fair, they didn't have a massive budget, and it happened only a year after Rik's accident (they were both meant to direct it, but Ade took on full directing duties as a result of this). Still, it's not unfunny, and I think it's available on Dailymotion; if you like Bottom, you should give it a watch. I wonder what a Bottom film set in the original world of the sitcom would've been like...

I have an inking who you are, although I might be wrong. I hope you're well, anyway. 😂 I'm fine, just trundling along, coming up to my last semester as an undergrad. Tumblr may well have changed the character limit on asks, though I honestly couldn't say for sure.

Thanks for the ask!

[secundus-cinaedus]

https://www.tumblr.com/secundus-cinaedus/752933230490091520

Your tags… it’s obvious you don’t know much about European history lol

get off anon you fucking coward put your money where your mouth is

for anyone who doesn't to pull up the post, this is the tag

i'm sorry, anon, literally what the fuck about this tag is incorrect?

(7000 years was entirely incorrect tbf lol i wasn't thinking and pulled the number from OP talking about writing in europe not the minoans, that was so obviously incorrect i should have caught it but i think i wrote this response on the shitter so my bad. sometimes i'm retarded. so, correction, ~3000 years after)

the main thesis of my point is literally correct though. it's not as if every civilization in europe (or even in greece, or even on the island of crete) had sewer systems once the minoans came up with them. that's not how technology words. there's a great number of civilizations (who even predate the minoans in areas of the middle east/indus river valley) that archaeologically have proof of having had a sewer system, that when you look at later civilizations in the area, after the earlier civilization fell, don't have sewer systems.

literally all you need to do is look at the decline of living standards in roman europe after the roman empire fell. sewer systems, aqueducts, standards of sanitation, were not maintained, especially in fringe regions like roman britain. quality of life, both within urban centers and outside of, declined. technological advancements become lost until a centralized power forms again and prioritizes advancements again. this has literally been the cycle of history for the past 6000-ish years of civilization

eternally upset you'll be too pussy to come back into my inbox again to try and justify why you called me wrong because i really want to know lmao

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hi i just need to put this into words and possibly get an outside perspective that isnt from my friends and such

I dont know if i can call what i went through as a teen neglect.

This is pretty long sorry, just skip to the end if necessary

TW: Alcoholism, Neglect? Sorry if i missed anything

To explain fully, i was taken out of school in 7th grade due to mental health issues and one very abusive and ableist teacher. That left me alone at home for 80% of the week, which was fine i had plenty of food and such to eat and i preferred being alone to recover from everything. I never went back even once i was "recovered"

But then when i was about 16, my mother's mental took a nosedive. She started having hospital level panic attacks. It wasnt that bad at first, cuz despite everything i still atleast had food and such for when she had to spent a day or maybe two at the hospital, which was rare. I could survive on my own with the limited help i got.

It sucked, my quality of life went from "meh could be better" to "okay uh we're surviving in decent comfort atleast?" In the span of a few months. But it wasnt the worse

Then the new year rolled over and it became worse. My mother took up drinking to cope and that spiralled fast

To the point her hospital visits became weekly almost daily, my life went from "okay i can life like this but i rather not" to "haha, im gonna end up in the hospital too-" in less then a month

I basically lived with my grandmother for a month and, she barely had any food there because they always went out to eat, food wasnt allow upstairs unless you were sick, beds felt worse then wood floors, and she didnt respect my issues

I was pushed aside, i didnt eat more then a mini bag of chips most nights because the only things to eat where expired, take out from places i didnt like, or things i literally cant eat either cuz textures or allergies.

When everything went back to almost normal, there was barely any food at home, i slept in my mother's closet because my old stalker tried breaking into my room while we were gone (also bugs overtook my room because the window was jammed for the rest of the time before we came home because of that) and my mother didnt want us to share her huge bed because i apparently violently slapped and kicked her awake till 3am when we tried (i didnt go to bed till 5am the one week when we tried, and she always woke up at 6am for her meds and such especially during this also we both slept on the very edges)

My mother would sleep all day, only waking up to take her meds and eat and stuff.

Dinner went from a "happens most of the week" thing to "you'll be luckly if you found a warm thing to make and eat"

Basically, i kinda starved often till things calmed down later in the year. I think a broke college student ate and slept better then me that year.

When i was 18 it happened again but i had a job so it wasnt as bad.

I dont blame her for like 40% of that hell, her and my father where going through the 5th messiest divorce of our closeish family has witnessed (tho it was actually kinda tame compared to the top 4 so idk the actual severity), and her mental health was already on decline for reasons that are not mine to tell

But like can i call what happened neglect?? It sounds like it but idk i actually can call it that.

Like yeah i starved most of my time as a 17 year old, slept in a cramped closet during said time, developed back issues cuz of that, was barely able to care for myself due to depression, was subjected to to smell of weed and the smoke from it often despite the fact it makes me extremely sick, was very suicidal, was told i was a burden and was making the situation worse cuz im autistic and was basically the new family afterthought

But like, does it really qualify as neglect and can i call it that if it is? Most adults i talked to at the time, even my old therapist said no because i was "17 and should already know how to care for myself on my own. And shouldnt take the words said in a probably drunken state to heart" but like there no way i could care for myself?? Atleast not without taking less then ideal options. Also that doesnt excuse the extremely hateful things yelled at me???

So im really conflicted here, was it neglect or am i just being overdramatic??? Every therapist ive been able to go to says im just being dramatic but my friends says im not so ????

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what you've been through. You can most certainly call these experiences neglect if that is a term you would like to use.

Neglect by definition is to fail to care for properly, and by legal definition it's "the failure of a parent or other person with responsibility, for the child to provide needed food, clothing, shelter, medical care, or supervision to." Not only were you not provided sufficient food, but it seems likely that your emotional needs may not have been taken care of either, with an unavailable mother and a disrespectful grandmother. It also sounds like you were not given adequate shelter and medical care, considering where you slept, the bug infestation, and how that affected your development. So yes, in many ways, your experience aligns with neglect.

I think it's important to remember that it's common for trauma survivors to feel like they're being dramatic when they validate the severity of their trauma, and that it makes sense to be in some level of disbelief that it's worse than you initially thought. Please know that you are valid as a trauma survivor, and remember to be patient and gentile with yourself as you explore what this means for you.

Ultimately, it may be helpful to work with a mental health professional such as a therapist, if you can access or afford it. A therapist, especially one who specialized in trauma, can mediate your healing journey and help you find ways to make sense of, process, and cope with your experiences.

If anyone has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[optimisticapocalypse]

Thank the tumblr deities for the ability to filter out tags.

Dear my beautiful artists of tumblr that I love-

Y’all could be revolutionaries. Instead you argue, at times quite passionately, against each other, in favour of politicians. I’m not saying anything new by pointing out- they are both liars out for power, and don’t have the peoples best interest in mind let alone at heart.

Imagine a world where an independent, grassroots, real individual won, or- if communities united to peacefully to decline the ruling of an overreaching, abusive, authority that doesn’t represent them.

But my opinion doesn’t matter, I’m not even American.

I am disappointed by the objectively authoritarian actions of my own current government. I can’t do much about it aside from aspire with my fellow Canadians to exist in small parallel systems. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The point being, it makes me sad to see people who are on the same ground antagonizing over which candidate is least shitty. The top two parties are bloody actors, and the same organizations that have, will continue to underly all of it.

Down to discuss, open to debate. I usually get a lot of comments in offence to the right for the sake of the left. Either way- It takes a a team to achieve higher quality of life, and I can’t work with a team that doesn’t stop shouting ag each other. Don’t assume anyone knows everything- not even you. How could anyone, know everything, with certainty? I been there- but I’d been wrong too lol.

I’ve censored he tags perpetuating the propaganda. Sometimes I peek- thinking, maybe it’s chill. It’s never chill. I’m then I open my big mouth again. 😅 There’s enough of that stuff on twit- I mean X… And Facebook, and Instagram, and everywhere else. I’m here for human works of fictions gosh dang it! The Artistry! And slice of life from creators, cause y’all are cool people, even when we don’t theoretically agree. In practice, in our real lives, I’m sure we have lots of things we agree on.

Thank you, and preemptively, I am sorry. ✌️ 🇨🇦

[pymvere]

ugly

an, when i was younger, what i wanted was to work in the media and travel the world, to celebrate my achievement, to marry an amazing intellectual. well i still want to do all of that, but sometimes i feel embarrassed thinking about that. i feel like it was important to me then to prove that i was not just an ordinary girl, i was a special person. i wanted to be rich and famous. but i was very lonely and alone at that time. but then again, i feel like i was luckier than most people in the world. 

and i was thinking, why should anyone be rich and famous while other people live in desperate poverty?

an, sometimes, when i was on my way to the office i was thinking –i don’t know if you will agree with me or not– the failure in our life is general.

civilization is presently in its declining phase day by day, and it was showing the ugliness of modern life. i’m sorry, but you will agree with me on this, cars are generally ugly, right? cars are ugly, buildings are ugly, the mass product is designed very ugly. 

our quality of life has declined. oh ya the air we breathe is very toxic, hence the allergy and the sore throat i got every 6 months. don’t forget the water we drink is full of microplastics, the food is contaminated by cancerous substances. 

and along with it, our mainstream music and cinema are basically just semi-porn and not so family-friendly. visual art and statue is primarily a commodity market for oligarchs. stttt… they even killed the archaeologist. those bastards. i’m sorry an, i have to!

you think the world ceased to be very beautiful after the fall of the new order era and the fall of the soviet union? an, i’m sorry but i believe the fascist political movement is trying to get back from the dead.

but i kinda understand, if that makes sense? i mean it makes sense that people are looking back to a time before the natural world started dying, before capitalism killed our cultural forms and degraded it into mass marketing products.

but an, do you ever experience a sort of personalized version of those feelings? as your own life, your own world slowly to dim, to become an uglier place for yourself? you feeling adrift from the world with no home? or is it just me because we’re getting old? i don’t know.

[eunoiaastralwings]

Hello!! Beautiful writing! May I please request a fic with Egalmoth x human reader where he’s in love and trying to show it to the reader be they don’t know elvish courting signs and they agree to accompany another elf to a ball in Gondolin and Eaglmoth gets jealous but kinda sulks in silence and the reader sees and goes out to comfort his and he just bursts out how he feels. Reader feels the same and is shocked but of course agrees to court him! Thank you so much!

Misunderstandings- Worth Your Time

characters egalmoth x reader

fandom tolkien- the silmarillion

a/n hi- am sorry for the wait. life is happening. i hope you like this- thank you endlessly to @theladyvanya and @i-did-not-mean-to for helping me out and having my back💗

Egalmoth watched you freely talk with Idirl- the princess, as he was thinking.

He tried everything he possibly could the past 2 months- but not any of those times did you show any bit of interest in him.

He complimented you constantly, bought you new exquisite hairpins, flowers, books- anything the lord of the heavenly arch could put his mind to.

He even made sure any dresses/robes you required were made to the highest quality- but no matter what he did you still didn’t show any interest.

Egalmoth always had the strongest confidence.

He was so sure you would accept him.

But his whole world suddenly shattered — when you didn't.

Egalmoth wanted to give up- but he couldn’t. How could he when he was so sure you were the one?

It was hard to accept the person you loved — didn't love you.

You have been living in Gondolin for some time – a friend of the princess.

Ever since Egalmoth first laid eyes on you- he had fallen deeply- how you talked, smiled- oh and your eyes seemed to shine every time spoke with passion.

He wanted to be the source of that shine one day. . .

He lived those moments— falling deeply in love with you.

It was obvious to everyone else— Egalmoth didn't just let anyone into his life and company.

He dared even ask you if he could braid your hair—you politely declined, however.

That’s when Egalmoth thought he should really give up- you had shown it you clearly weren’t interested.

He should have seen it before – but his head was too high in the clouds to understand.

Egalmoth sighed and turned away to continue on with his work.

It was evening- when you suddenly rushed into the office, looking happy and giddy.

Egalmoth raised an eyebrow- what had gotten you so excited you couldn’t stand still?

“Egalmoth!”

You chirped cheerfully.

His heart skipped a beat- he wondered why you still stuck around him even though you rejected him multiple times.

“What?” He asked- Egalmoth for the first time in his life didn’t- or couldn’t find the energy to return the same cheerfulness.

He was in too much agony.

“Aldon has kindly asked me to the ball.”

At that- Egalmoth froze.

This is what you wanted to tell him- after rejecting him so many times?

He wanted to ask you- but after you so clearly rejected him, Egalmoth knew it was useless.

But now you freely and cheerfully say about how that- silly Aldon was able to take you to the ball?

With his little to no effort.

“Why him?”

Egalmoth slowly turned to you.

“Is he worth your time?”

You laughed- you thought it was his sense of humor again.

“Well, of course!- Why else would I accept?”

Was that your way of saying every thing he did wasn’t worth your time?

“What did he give you to take your hand for dance?”

Egalmoth asked- he already knew that ellon didn’t pay attention to customs- especially to humans.

That was why Egalmoth never liked Aldon- Aldon considered you unvaluable.

But Egalmoth saw you as the purest and rarest of gems in his eyes- and he would have shown you that, if you had given him the chance.

“He didn’t need to?”

You answered- confused.

“He asked and I accepted. . .”

You shrugged- like it was so simple.

If it was that simple for Aldon- did it seem impossible for Egalmoth to win you over?

But of course- you weren’t some trophy he wanted to show around- you were a pure, kind hearted human he ever had the privilege of knowing- but unfortunate enough to never receive your love.

Egalmoth half listened to you when you explained Aldon approached you earlier- after you left Idril.

You seemed so happy and cheerful- it broke his heart.

Did you even know how he felt?

Finally — when he found someone . . . did they not want him anything more than just a friend?

Did you truly not see him anything more than as friend?

The day of the event you dressed yourself in one of his favorite dresses/robes- you owned.

It was harder and harder to take his eyes off you- Ecthelion and Glorfindel had noticed it.

But neither of them commented- probably for the best.

It was unlike Egalmoth to be this silent- especially at an event.

But as much as he hated to admit it- he was heartbroken inside and seeing dance and laugh with that Aldon only made matters worse.

What did you see in him?- Egalmoth had many things!

What was he lacking to win your affection?

What did Aldon have- he didn’t?

Some part of him wanted to punch the measly ellon- who clearly didn’t respect you or customs.

Just because you were human- doesn’t mean you didn’t deserve to be accepted to the elvish customs.

Egalmoth sighed and gulped down another drink.

He raised an eyebrow when you suddenly turned to notice him- it was almost 30 minutes already.

Usually, you would try to spot him for 5 minutes in- what had changed?

Were you really courting Aldon? – That made his blood boil.

You approached him with a sweet smile- Egalmoth redirected his anger.

“Egalmoth!”

You cheered.

He looked at you.

“Why are you sulking away in the corner?- You’re always the centre of attention at these events!”

Egalmoth almost glared- but he quickly rolled his eyes.

“Am not some entertainer, Y/N. . .”

He sighed and grabbed another drink.

“Is everything alright?”

You asked.

You wondered how many times he had refilled his glass- he was an elf- more advanced and stronger than you- but you still couldn’t help but be worried about him.

“I think Aldon requires your presence again. . .”

He muttered and left.

You sighed and went after him- through the long hallways and tall archways.

“Egalmoth- this isn’t like you!”

This was different from the Egalmoth you knew- he wasn’t afraid to be the centre of attention- in fact he loved it.

He made himself known- flirting his way through the crowds and boasting about himself.

It was fun to watch- he was so confident in everything.

So- why suddenly is he sulking around and leaving early- too early?

That wasn’t the Egalmoth everyone knew.

You tried to keep up with his long strides.

“Please- Egalmoth, could you slow down?”

“What do you even see in him?”

He suddenly turned around- he was towering over you.

You blinked.

“What?”

“What do you see in him, Y/N?- Aldon?”

“Ald-“

“I gave you all signs and gifts known to all elves!- But instead you’re willing to court some measly little elf that wouldn’t even offer you anything!”

“Court?”

“So enlighten me, Y/N. Why is he so worth your time?”

Egalmoth was breathing hard- staring into your eyes.

He was desperate for the answer.

“Egalmoth. . . Aldon and I aren’t courting. . .”

You meekly replied to him.

He frowned.

“Then why did you agree to go to this ball with him?”

You shrugged.

“No one else asked. . .”

“I would have asked you- if you hadn’t rejected me. . .”

He sighed.

You blinked- shocked.

“Rejected you?”

What was he talking about?

“I offered you my courting gifts- but you had rejected all of them.”

“What?- Those were courting gifts?”

You frowned.

“Yes- why else would I give them to you?”

“I-. . . I didn’t release what you wanted to. . . but am human?”

“And?”

He asked- like it mattered little- and yes, he didn’t care if you were human or elf.

The confusion and shock written on your face made him understand.

“You didn’t understand, did you?- Not even when I wanted to braid your hair with that new hair pin?”

You mumbled a low no- with a shake of your head.

“I thought you were friends with the princess?”

“Yes. . . I am. . .”

“Neither of you spoke about elvish courting rituals?”

“Well. . .- it never exactly came up as a topic. .. yet. . .”

“Yet?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Well. . . I don’t know. . .”

You shrugged again- too embarrassed to admit you were talking about crushes to the princess and Egalmoth may or may not have been brought up a few times by yourself.

“Now that you know. . .”

Egalmoth smirked and stepped closer to you.

You gasped and almost stepped back.

But Egalmoth wrapped a hand around your waist- the other caressed your coloring cheeks.

“What is your answer now?”

You thought back to all the time Egalmoth talked to you- or brought you something.

Looking back you realized how dumb you were- Egalmoth was always there trying to win you over.

But then again- it wasn’t your fault you didn’t know elvish customs.

“You could have told me. . .”

Egalmoth rolled his eyes.

“It was obvious to everyone but you!- I even asked if I could touch your hair.”

“I know but. . “

“Then enlighten me with the human courting customs.

You shook your head with a smile.

“They aren’t as beautiful or extravagant.”

“So is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

You smiled.

Egalmoth didn’t waste a moment- he quickly dipped down and kissed you- senseless.

form for taglist

tara's taglist: @mslizziesblog @wandererindreams @spidergirla5 @aeonianarchives

silm taglist: @doodle-pops

[harley-sunday]

North Star [02]

Summary: “We were never bad, Charles, we just lost each other somewhere along the way.” It’s been two years since you and Charles broke up and you have been trying to find your way ever since. Will seeing him again make you find your true north?

Pairings: Pierre Gasly x reader (best friends) | Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: Mentions death of a parent/parents. Mentions Jules Bianchi and Anthoine Hubert. Please see masterlist for general warnings.

Word count: 6.7k

AN: Sorry for the long wait on this, lovelies. I had most of this chapter written but then decided I didn’t like where it was going and so rewrote most of it. I know. I like to think I make up for it with this long AF chapter that includes tons of backstory... Also, did I make myself cry while writing this? Maybe. Definitely. So, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Still, I hope you’ll enjoy :) 

[Flashbacks in italics]

Masterlist

Les Côtes, December 29, 2021

Are you surprised to find Pierre’s mom already in the kitchen by the time you make it downstairs? No, of course not. The kitchen is Pascale’s domain and even though almost everyone knows exactly what’s expected of them whenever they’re on the roster, Pascale is always around to make sure things go according to plan. Quality control, you and Pierre like to call it, often teasing Pascale about it. 

“Salut, ma puce,” Pascale says as she greets you with a kiss on your cheek. “Sleep well?”

“I did.” You take the cup of coffee she hands you with a quiet, “Thank you,” wrapping your hands around the mug and softly blowing into it to cool it down a little. You were so tired by the time you went to bed last night that you fell asleep pretty much the moment your head hit the pillow, not waking up until your alarm went off this morning.

Katerina walks into the kitchen then, freshly showered and looking much more awake than you ever will at this time of day, especially because you’re still in your pajamas. “Good morning.” 

“Mornin’,” you croak back, your voice still a little rough from only having woken up a few minutes earlier. “How did you sleep?”

“Oh, amazing!” She shakes her head, “It is so quiet here-”

“I know,” you agree, because it really is. It’s one of the reasons why you love coming here so much. 

“Here you go,” Pascale says, as she hands Katerina a cup of coffee.

“Oh, no thank you,” Katerina says, making a face to tell Pascale she feels bad about declining. “I don’t really drink coffee.”

You throw Pascale a wink before you turn back to Katerina, “It’s the taste, right?” 

“Yeah,” she agrees with a shrug, “it’s just- It’s too bitter, I don’t-”

“You should try Pascale’s coffee anyway,” you suggest, pointing at your cup, “she puts a little cinnamon in the coffee as it brews and it’s just-” you bring your fingers to your lips, “-chef’s kiss.”

Pascale smiles, “You know who I learned that from?” 

You shake your head and watch as Katerina takes the cup from Pascale, smiling when you see a look of surprise pass over her face once she’s taken a sip, “It’s good, huh?”

Katerina nods, “It is.”

“Your mother taught me that tric,” Pascale says then, smiling at you. “Said it was the way she got your father to stick around after their first date.” 

You just nod, not trusting your voice right now because all of a sudden there’s a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes. As much as you love learning new things about your parents, about their lives and what they did before they had you, it’s at times like these that you’re reminded of just how unfair it all is. How you’ll always have to rely on other people to give you this sort of information because you’re no longer able to ask them yourself.

“Oh, ma puce,” Pascale says then, hurrying towards you and wrapping her arms around you. “I’m sorry.” 

“No,” it comes out barely above a whisper and so you shake your head to get your point across. “It’s just-” Your voice breaks then and tears start trailing down your cheeks and so you reach around Pascale in a futile attempt to dry your eyes. “I didn’t-” a sob escapes you, “I didn’t know-” 

“I know, ma petite,” Pascale lets go of you and cups your face with both hands, her thumbs wiping away the tears, “but I should know better than to just blurt out these things like they don’t matter.”

You shake your head, “No, no, please-” you try to take a deep breath, “-I want to- I want to know these-” another sob then, “-these things. I just-” You let out a ragged breath, “It caught me off guard.” You try to smile but it just brings on a fresh set of tears and so you pull away in search of some paper towel  so you can blow your nose, “God, I’m sorry.”

“Go,” Pascale’s voice is soft. “Katerina and I will finish here.”

“No, I’m ok,” you try, but you’re still sobbing and there are still tears running down your cheeks so you’re not very convincing.

“Pierre’s in the living room,” Katerina offers quietly.

You look at her and nod, feeling even worse when you see how distraught she looks. “I’m sorry,” you say again, but both Katerina and Pascale tell you it’s nothing and dismiss you with kind smiles.

XXX

Rouen, Bastille Day 2014

Pierre sighs as he turns onto his stomach, “Can’t we just stay here?”

“And have both our parents mad at us? Four people lecturing us about how family always comes first and how, when we agree to something, we should see it through? The whole ‘We don’t ask for much just that you make it back in time for dinner’ speech again?” His best friend scoffs, “Remember what happened when we were half an hour late last year?”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, the scolding the two of them had gotten not only from his parents but from her parents as well still fresh in his memory. He pushes himself up on his elbows, “We should probably go then.” 

“Hmmm,” she hums in reply but doesn’t make any move to get up and he knows what’s coming next. “Five more minutes?”

“Fine,” he lays down again but then flicks her upper arm, “but I’m blaming you if they get mad.”

“Fine,” she echoes, making herself comfortable again. 

Pierre tries his best to drown out the sound of screaming and laughing children around him, the public pool in Petit-Quevilly always a popular summer hangout but even more so on the French national holiday. Coming here on Bastille day has been a tradition of sorts for both his and her family, one the two of them continued long after their parents decided it was no longer necessary to escort them here. From age ten and upwards they have been coming here on their own and always by bike, but not this year. This year he has gotten his driver’s licence and so he drove them here in the car his parents got him after he graduated high school. 

He knows she’s a little jealous at the sudden freedom he has now that he can go wherever he wants, whenever he wants, and so he has been counting down the days to her eighteenth birthday with her. She’s been begging him to let her have a test drive in his car in the parking lot behind the Carrefour supermarket but he knows her parents have organised for her first driving lesson to be on her birthday so he has to keep telling her he’s not allowed even though there’s nothing he’d rather do. 

A quick glance at the big clock on the side of the diving tower tells him the five minutes they gave themselves have passed and so he pushes himself up and hears her join him with a loud groan. Grabbing his t-shirt from her tote bag before he puts it on and slides into his flip flops, he waits for her to put on her dress and shoes before he holds out his hand and takes her towel from her without thinking, having done so for so many years already. Whenever they would bike here she would be the one carrying the backpack filled with drinks and snacks while he would be in charge of making sure the towels made it to and from the swimming pool safely.

She giggles as she hands him her towel, “Do you remember-”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, effectively cutting her off, not needing to be reminded of the time he was a bit too careless and one of the towels ended up in between the spokes of his front wheel, sending him flying over the handlebars, with her falling off her bike because she was laughing so hard and his mother more upset about the ruined towel than the scrapes and cuts on his hands and knees. 

“Come on,” he says, not waiting to see if she joins him towards the exit. He knows she does. When he reaches his car his phone rings and when he sees the caller ID on the screen he can’t help but laugh, before he holds the phone up to her to show her, “Probably wondering where we are.” He presses the green button and wedges the phone between his shoulder and ear as he opens the trunk and drops both their towels inside, “We are on our way, maman.” 

“Pierre?” 

His mom’s voice sounds pinched and distant and immediately he’s on edge, “What’s going on?” 

Flo looks at him with a questioning look and mouths, “Are we late?”

He shakes his head because he doesn’t think they are but he doesn’t know what else is going on either.

“Pierre, I need you to come home right away.” 

“Yeah, we’ll be right there,” Pierre says as he watches his best friend get into the passenger’s seat. 

“No, mon chou,” his mother’s tone of voice is more urgent this time, “now. I need you to come home now, ok? Drive safe, but please get back here as fast as you can.”

“Is it Mamie?” He doesn’t know why he asks, doesn’t know why his mind goes there, but his grandmother hasn’t been too well lately and so it seems the most obvious that maybe she got taken to the hospital, or-

“Just come home, Pierre.” 

It takes him a moment to realise his mother has ended the call and when he does he pockets the phone and takes a few deep breaths, determined not to panic, and so when he gets into the car and Flo asks him what’s wrong he just shrugs and says, “Nothing.”

“Pierre,” there’s a warning in her voice for him to tell the truth, because of course she knows there’s something he’s not telling her. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, ok?” He looks at her then and tries to smile, tries to reassure both her and himself in the most futile of attempts, “I just know that my mom wants us to come home as soon as possible, so I don’t know. Maybe something happened to Mamie, or-”

“Oh, Pierre,” she puts her hand on his arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze, because she also knows he’s been worried about his grandmother, “I’m sure it’ll be alright.” 

He just nods and starts the car, pulling out of the parking lot a little faster than he normally would but neither of them comment on it. The drive home takes long, too long even though he’s slightly going over the speed limit in an attempt to make up for whatever time they seem to have lost already. 

All too soon and yet not soon enough he finally turns onto their street and he can hear the quiet, “Oh,” that escapes her when they see the police car that’s parked in between their houses. Pierre’s heart drops then because he knows from all the TV shows and movies he’s watched that this is bad news and so he parks rather haphazardly, his seatbelt already unbuckled before he has even turned the engine off. He’s out of the car in a matter of seconds, not waiting to see if his best friend follows along because quite honestly, he forgets about her in that moment, and sprints to his house where his mother is already waiting for him in the doorway. 

He ignores the two uniformed men that stand a little to the side and instead looks at his mother expectantly, hoping that, by some miracle, she’ll tell him it was all one big misunderstanding and that everything is going to be ok. 

What she tells him instead is much worse. 

It’s like someone has punched him in the chest and so he’s still gasping for air when he hears his mother tell the two police officers that, “Their daughter is in the car, but please let me-” her voice catches then and he can tell she’s crying, “Let me tell her?” 

He remembers then, remembers his best friend who he left behind and who still doesn’t know what is going on. When he turns around and sees her standing on the pavement, looking at him in the way she always does when she’s unsure whether or not she can interrupt, he just shakes his head. He wants her to stay there, wants her to not know for just a few moments longer, but it’s then his mother brushes past him and he knows that from now on there will always be a before and an after because he’s about to watch his best friend’s world fall apart and there’s nothing he can do to stop it from happening.

XXX

You find Pierre in the living room, like Katerina said you would, and before you even have a chance to say anything he’s up and out of his seat, walking towards you with his arms outstretched. 

“Oh, Flo,” is all he says as he wraps his arms around you, but it’s enough to get you going again and so you’re burying yourself in his hug, crying not only because you miss your parents, but also because you are so incredibly grateful for Pierre. He doesn’t say anything else, just holds you and lets you cry, not at all bothered by the wet stain that has formed from where you’re crying into his hoodie. 

You don’t know how long you stay like this but after a while the tears stop and your breathing becomes steady again and so you pull back a little and look up at him, “I’m sorry, this is not how you wanted your morning to-”

“Stop it,” he says and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You know I’m always here for you.” 

“I just never thought it would get harder, you know?” You shake your head, “I thought that it would get easier after a while, but it seems like it’s only hurting more and more the older I get.” You can feel the tears starting to come back and so you close your eyes for a second, trying to keep them at bay, “I just- Your mom told me that the cinnamon she puts in her coffee is because my mom used to do that. And I didn’t- I didn’t know that and-” You shake your head, “There’s so much I don’t know about them and it just hurts, you know? That I need other people to tell me about them because-” 

“Flo,” Pierre warns with a shake of his head. “Don’t. Don’t blame yourself for this. You were seventeen when- Of course you don’t know everything about them. And I hate, hate, that you don’t get to ask them anymore, but maybe just ask other people, you know? I’m sure they’d love to tell you but I think maybe they’re just afraid they might hurt you if they- If they suddenly start talking about your parents out of the blue, you know?”

“Yeah,” you nod because once again Pierre seems to know exactly what is going through mind. “Thank you.” It’s then you hear Pascale and Katerina quietly talking in the dining room and so you whisper, “Does Katerina know?”

“Yeah, is that-”

“No, it’s ok, it’s just-” you pull back and let go of him so you can dry your eyes. “I sort of lost it in the kitchen so-” you shrug and make a face, “I don’t want her to think-” 

“Oh, shut up,” Pierre says and gently pushes you backwards. “Only you think you come across as mentally unstable whenever you cry. Everyone else just thinks you’re human.” He throws his arm around your shoulder then and presses a kiss to your temple, “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Thank you.” 

“Come on,” he says as he walks you to the dining room, “let’s go eat.”

XXX

“So, that was Issoire,” you tell Katerina as you pull out from the parking lot, ready to start the drive back to Les Côtes.

“It’s cute,” Katerina agrees, turning towards you in her seat. “And that dress you found is just absolutely gorgeous.” She smiles then, “Thank you for doing this.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you say with a wave of your hand. “It’s nice to get to know you a little better,” you laugh then, “and to have some peace and quiet before the mayhem starts.”

“Is it really that bad?” 

“There’s just a lot of them,” you simply state as if that explains it all. Then again, it kind of does. “Four brothers, plus their wives, a whole lot of kids,” there’s a smile creeping up on your lips when you realise you’ll see them all again in an hour or so, “and the Leclercs.”

“And you’ve always celebrated New Year’s Eve together, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “it was just Pierre’s family and mine at first, I think the Leclercs joined us-” you quickly try to do the math, “-fifteen years ago.” 

You can see Katerina nod, “Pierre told me he met Charles through karting.”

“Yeah, I think they started racing each other when Pierre was eight or nine.” You can’t help but smile when you think back to those endless weekends spent at race tracks all across France, “It was always the four of them, you know, Pierre, Charles, Anthoine, and Esteban.”

Katerina reaches for her purse then and takes out the two water bottles you got just before, opening one and handing it to you as she takes a sip from the other, “Is that when you and Charles got together?”

“Thanks.” You shake your head, “No. No, at time I thought all boys were stupid-” you laugh then, “-well all of them except Pierre.” You shrug, “Then I grew up. I mean, it still took me years to admit that I saw Charles as more than just Pierre’s maniac friend, mostly because of everything that happened in between, but by then it had been brewing for quite a while, you know?”

“Hmm,” Katerina agrees quietly. “Pierre told me about all the-” she hesitates, looking for the right word no doubt.

“Yeah,” you smile at her to let her know it’s ok. “It hasn’t been easy for any of us, Pierre and Charles included, but somehow we made it through and-” you sigh, knowing that what you’re about to say couldn’t be any more true, “I guess that’s why the breakup with Charles hit me so hard, you know? We had been through so much together already, even when we weren’t dating, that I thought it’d be easy for us. He had seen me at my lowest already when my parents- And then Jules had his accident a few months later and then- Then his father-” You let out a shaky breath, “We sort of found each other in our grief, if that makes sense?”

You see Katerina nod and take that as your cue to continue, “The cruel thing is that we also lost each other there again.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Anthoine passed away it was-” you shake your head, trying to keep yourself together. “I’m not saying Charles did anything wrong because he didn’t, but we both dealt with our grief in such different ways that I felt like we were slowly drifting apart, you know? He kept going and I just- I stopped. I was a mess and-” you let out a huff of air, “-I guess I couldn’t keep up with him. All I wanted was to hide away somewhere and not come out for a while. Pierre understood that, and I’m not saying Charles didn’t but I think he was just too caught up in what everyone expected of him, you know, to keep going, keep pushing, all the time.”

“He won that race at Spa, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, and Monza the weekend after and so I guess that sort of proved to him that this was the best way of dealing with everything,” you shrug, “and so he just kept going. We broke up six weeks later.” 

“Do you think you gave up too easily?”

Her question surprises you, reminding you of the sort of questions Pierre tends to ask, a little out of left field but always very much on point and it makes you happy to see he seems to have met his match in that regard. You take your time to answer it, because you’re not sure. Do you think you were the only one to blame for the breakup? No. Would things have gone differently if you had made more of an effort? Maybe, but how would you know? And so in the end that’s what you tell her, “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, I think we both sort of let it happen, you know?”

“Do you think it would have been easier if there had been a fight?”

You can’t help but smile at Katerina, “I can see why Pierre likes you so much.” You take a moment to think about your answer before you say, “Maybe. I mean, that would have gotten us, or at least me, some closure, but now we just sort of slowly went our separate ways until we lost each other completely.” There’s a sad smile playing on your lips when you remember Pierre’s words, “Yesterday, Pierre said it felt like a ‘right person, wrong time’ kind of thing and I guess part of me agrees, but part of me doesn’t want to agree, you know?”

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” Katerina turns towards you again as she speaks, “because if it really is that, then I think that, in the back of your mind, you always wonder if the next time you’ll see him it will be the right time.”

“Exactly,” you agree, “but does that then mean I should put my life on hold? Or get my hopes up every time he comes back into my life?” You let out a sigh, “I don’t think I can live like that.” 

“You shouldn’t,” Katerina’s hand is on your arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe just see what happens this weekend first? It’s the first time you’ll see him again after your breakup, right?”

“Yeah.” You laugh then, “That was why I was so jumpy all the time in Qatar. I just- I didn’t want to run into Charles.” 

XXX

Monaco, October 21, 2019

He risks a quick glance at his alarm clock even though it can’t be more than five minutes since he last checked, the glowing red numbers confirming his suspicions making him roll his eyes even though no one can see him. He turns onto his side and sighs, debating whether or not he should just get up and start prepping for his flight to Mexico that leaves in a couple of hours. Or maybe he could go for a jog, or-

“Charles?” Her voice is soft but way too clear for her to have just woken up and so he figures they both must have been awake for a while. “I think we should talk.”

“It’s three-thirty-,“ he starts, but then thinks better of it and reaches behind him for the light switch instead because he’s not sure the conversation they’re about to have should be done in the dark. 

“Leave it off,” she tells him quietly. “Please?” 

There’s a rough edge to her voice that is only ever there when she’s been crying, the sound of it like a punch to the gut, and so he reaches in front of him instead, gentle fingers finding her face in the dark as he cups her cheek, not missing the shiver that runs through her at his touch and his heart, oh his heart feels like it’s about to break into a million tiny pieces. He knows what’s coming, of course he does, because he hasn’t missed the way they have slowly started to drift away from each other, with her coming to a slow stop and him just trying to move on and do what everyone expects him to do. Show up, sit pretty, and win races. 

He runs his thumb over her cheek and moves a little closer, until their noses almost touch and he can feel her breath hitting his skin in irregular puffs, a quiet sigh escaping him, “Oh, ma belle.” 

She nods against his hand, “I’m sorry, baby, I-”

“Shh,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead to let her know he understands. 

“It’s not-”

“I know.”

“Charles.” She puts her hand over his, “You’ve got to let me say it.” There’s a sob then and he thinks he can actually feel his heart slowly starting to break, tiny cracks that rapidly grow bigger when she tells him, “I love you. I just- I want you to know that.” He can feel her take a deep breath and he wants to tell her it’s ok, that he understands, but he doesn’t trust his voice right now and so she gets to continue, “I love you but I don’t think-” she shakes her head. “It’s not enough.” Another deep breath then, although it’s a little rougher than the last one, “I feel like I’m holding you back, I- I feel like I’m holding myself back. I don’t know how- I can’t really explain it and I know that’s not- It’s not fair to you-”

“Hey,” 

“It isn’t, Charles.” She shakes her head again, “I just- I lost my way and I-” He can feel the tears sliding down her cheeks onto his fingers but he doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, knowing that this is the least he can do for her. “I think-” She sobs. “I thought I was ok, you know? Graduated college and then started travelling the world with you- Because being with you- I,” she sighs, “-I never felt-” another sob then, “-but then Anthoine- And- It just sent me spiraling again and it just hurts so much.” She lets out a quiet whimper then and it pains him on an almost physical level and so much so that he can actually feel his breath hitch in his throat. 

She takes a deep breath, “I think I’ve been lost for a while now, maybe even- Maybe even before we started dating and- I need to find myself again.” She wraps her fingers around his then and gives them a gentle squeeze, “I guess I’m asking you to let me go. Let me find myself.” 

He is a lot of things, he realises in that moment. Some people call him Il Predestinato. He likes to think he is a proud Monegasque, and a mama’s boy who still misses his father more than anything, he knows he is fearless, and brave, and a Formula One driver and two-time race winner. And now, at three-forty five on a random Monday morning, he can add ex-boyfriend to that list because above all, more than anything, he is a martyr, and so he quietly tells her, “Ok.” 

XXX

“You ok?” Katerina asks as you pull up to the house and put your car in park.

“Yeah, I think so.” You take a deep breath, “Might as well get it over with, right?”

“You’ll be fine,” she tells you as she gets out of the car. “Two years is a long time.”

“And yet it still feels like yesterday,” you say as you round the car and open the trunk so you can take out the shopping bags. Following Katerina towards the house you try to prepare yourself for the absolute chaos you’re about to walk into and you weren’t wrong because when she opens the front door it’s like you are walking into a wall of sound. 

The house has suddenly come alive and there’s laughter, and screams, and a baby crying somewhere, and it distracts you just enough that you don’t see Charles walking towards you and so you’re a little surprised when all of a sudden he steps into view.

Katerina mumbles something about going to find Pierre and makes her way towards the living room, leaving you and Charles behind in the now empty hallway.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. You try to smile, try to act as if your heart hasn’t just skipped a beat or two but you doubt you’re fooling him and so you can’t help but shrug, “I’m sorry, this is just-”

“A little weird?” He chuckles and nods, “Yeah.”

“So,” you start, not sure where you want to go next. You decide to keep it on surface level, “How have you been?”

“Uh, yeah, good,” he replies, sounding a little surprised. He clears his throat then and you can tell from the way he clenches and unclenches his fists that he’s about to ask for something big, “Do you think we could-”

It’s at that moment the door to the living room opens and one of Pierre’s nieces comes running at you, “Auntie Flo!” 

You have to drop the bags you were holding so you can catch her because you are sure she would have run straight into you if you hadn’t. Lifting the little girl up in your arms you kiss her cheek, “Salut, ma puce. You have gotten so big!”

The little girl turns around in your arms then and yells, “Lottie! Justine! Auntie Flo is here!” 

You make a face at Charles, hoping he’ll understand that whatever he was going to say is going to have to wait until later because for the next hour or so you'll be too busy catching up with everyone else to continue this conversation in peace.  

He just nods and takes your bags, nodding towards the living room, “Go, I’ll put these in your room for you.”

XXX

Dinner is an even longer affair now that there are more people even though you’re still four adults and a couple of kids short. The two oldest of Pierre’s brothers, Nicolas and Cyril, and their families don’t arrive until tomorrow, but still there’s a big difference with yesterday when it was just the five of you. 

You’re tucked away between Charles’ oldest brother Lorenzo and his mother Pascale, who everyone refers to as Pasa to avoid confusion with Pierre’s mom, with Charles sitting a bit further down on the opposite side of the table. As much as you try to focus on the conversation around you, you can’t help but stealing glances in his direction. He looks good, you decided early on, but there is something different about him that you can’t quite put your finger on. His hair is a little longer and he’s a little more tan but you don’t think that’s it. Or maybe it is and you’re just imagining things. 

By the time dessert is served it’s almost ten and most of the kids have already been put to bed and so at least things have quieted down a little. You are happy to sit back and just listen to the stories around you, with Jean-Jacques reminiscing about Pierre’s Monza win on your left and Pasa and Pascale debating whether or not they should prepare the vegetables for New Year’s Eve already tomorrow or if it’s better to wait until Friday on your right. 

Pierre, who’s sitting on the other side of the table, nudges your foot with his then and when you look up at him he raises his eyebrows at you, his way of silently asking if you’re ok. You nod and smile, holding up your glass of red wine to show him you’re fine. You know Charles has caught the interaction between you and Pierre from the way he looks at you and so you smile at him too, if only to let him know that really, you’re fine. 

Or you pretend to be anyway and apparently not doing too good of a job at it, because Pierre shakes his head at you then, letting you know he doesn’t buy your bullshit. You just stare back at him because now is not the time and he should drop it. He grins back at you, which tells you he won’t and he’ll get back to it later and so you take a sip of your wine while you keep looking at him to tell him that you’ll see about that. 

XXX

It’s almost eleven when the last of the plates are finally cleared away, with some people disappearing into the kitchen for their dishwashing duties and some disappearing into the living room so they can enjoy a nice glass of Cognac in front of the fireplace. Even though you’re not on the roster you decide to help out in the kitchen anyway, mostly to avoid Pierre and his promise of a serious conversation, but also because you feel like you haven’t really done anything today yet.

When you get back into the dining room a good while later you find Pierre, Katerina, Arthur, Lorenzo, and Charles playing a very heated game of Monopoly, with Pierre getting up out of his seat to move his piece across the board and Charles sitting on top of the table, one leg folded in front of him and the other dangling off the side. 

Katerina looks like she’s about to give up and when she sees you walking in she actually mouths a quiet, “Help me.” 

You can’t help but laugh, “I’m sorry. I should have warned you.” You point at the four boys in front of you, “Things get pretty intense around here.” 

“I’m about to give up,” Katerina says, pointing at what little money she has left. “They buy everything they land on before I even have a chance and all I do is pay them rent.” She nods towards Pierre, “I’ve never seen him like this before.” 

“Oh, sweetie,” you say and walk over to her, putting your hands on her shoulders and giving them a reassuring squeeze, “don’t worry. I’ll give you some insider tips tomorrow, ok? You’ll have them beat in no time.” 

A chorus of, “No,” and “Don’t you dare,” rings out around you, the boys looking at you like you’ve just committed treason. Arthur even drops his head in his hands rather dramatically and says, “We will never win again if there is two of you.” 

“The last time anyone beat me was New Year’s Eve twenty-fifteen,” you explain with a shrug. A wink then, “Apparently it’s a thing.” 

They’re too far into the game for you to join them, but not far enough along for it to be over soon and so you’re about to tell them you’re off to bed when Charles looks at you, “We could use a banker.” 

“Yes!” Arthur pipes up, “Please Flo. Please take over from Charles because I am almost one hundred percent sure he is cheating.”

“I am not cheating!” 

“You are a bit shady, mate,” Pierre joins in, laughing then. “You did buy a lot of streets with very little funds in your past few turns.”

“Oh, come on,” Charles groans, looking at you for help. “Will you please do it so I can beat them without being accused of cheating?” 

“Fine,” you round the table so you’re opposite to Charles and sit down on top of it as well, mirroring his pose. Your reach for the money just as he pushes it towards you and so your fingers touch and you can actually feel your heart skipping a beat. Next to you you hear Charles drawing a sharp breath and you hope no one else has noticed. A quick glance around the table tells you Arthur and Lorenzo are too busy discussing their strategy to take Charles down to have seen anything, while Katerina is reading over the rules. The only one who's looking at you is Pierre, one eyebrow raised and with that shit-eating grin you both love and hate so much on his face. 

“Alright,” you say then, effectively ignoring Pierre even though you know he won’t let it go and will for sure corner you somewhere later. “Let’s play.”

XXX

By the time the game’s over and Lorenzo has been declared the winner, albeit under heavy protests from both Pierre and, surprisingly, Arthur, who claim the older Leclerc has somehow cheated, most of the other adults have already gone to bed and so the house is quiet except for your little group saying their good-nights.

Instead of going upstairs you head to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea because after all the wine you’ve had tonight you know you need to hydrate if you don’t want a hangover tomorrow. Are you surprised Charles follows you there? No. Not really anyway, but still you’re a little nervous.

“Finally some alone time, huh?” He says as he leans against the kitchen counter, leaving a bit of space between you.

“Yeah,” you nod, busying yourself with the electric kettle in a way to delay the inevitable a little longer.

“How-” he hesitates and so you throw him what you hope is an encouraging smile from over your shoulder, telling him that it’s ok. “How have you been?”

You want to tell him that you have been good, that you’ve been doing well on your own but you both know that’s a lie and so you decide to just be honest, “Getting there.” 

“You’re back in Rouen, no?”

“Yeah,” you nod and turn around so you can face him. “I uh- I left after you and I-” you shrug, “I got a job in Strasbourg but, I don’t know, it just- The pandemic hit shortly after and I just- I felt so alone there. But I kept the house so, yeah, moved back there in November.” 

“Good,” he nods because he too knows how much you’re tied to Rouen. 

“Haven’t found another job yet, but-” you shrug, “That’s for later, I guess.” You look at him, “How about you?”

He takes his time answering and you can tell by the way he looks anywhere but at you that he’s debating what to tell you. When he finally looks at you there’s a sad smile tugging on the corners of his mouth as he repeats your answer, “Getting there.” He shakes his head, “Last year, the season, it was not good. I was all over the place and my head just wasn’t- I kept blaming the pandemic but- I don’t know, I think it finally all caught up with me, you know?”

“Yeah.” You watch the races, of course you do, and so you know last year wasn’t a great season for him. This year though seems to have gone a bit better and so you ask, “And this year?”

“More good races than bad ones,” he admits easily enough, “so that’s something.” 

“Hmm,” you agree quietly as you turn around to grab your mug and fill it with hot water now that the kettle’s done. You smile even though he can’t see you as you dump the tea bag into the mug rather unceremoniously, “Still not a big fan of tea?”

He chuckles, “No, thank you.” 

It stays quiet then, with you pretending to pay the utmost attention to getting your cup of tea and him maybe a little lost in his own thoughts as well. 

When he does speak again he surprises you, “Are we-” he clears his throat, “Are we good?” 

A simple yes would have done the trick, you know that, but this is Charles and you’re nothing if not always completely honest with each other and so you take a deep breath as you turn around, not surprised to find him standing a bit closer to you, “We were never bad, Charles. We just-” You smile at him and shrug, “We just lost each other somewhere along the way.” 

He just nods and takes you a little by surprise when he leans in and whispers, “We’ll find our way back.” There’s a kiss on your cheek then, followed by a soft, “Good night, ma belle,” before he walks out of the kitchen and all you can do is stand there and try to process what just happened. 

[heyhoneyybunn]

No Promises [2]

Relationship: Mafia!Kuroo Tetsuro x f!Reader

Warnings: fluff, profanity, lil suggestive,

A/n: so surprised at the amount of people that wanted a part two so here’s this crap 😭😭😭 

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Bonus | Bonus 2 |

With head in hand as you rested on the glass bar, once again, you found yourself in a familiar setting, one that you were confident in navigating despite the classy people and the expensive drinks. As the pretty jazz singer finished his piece, his final notes washed over you, pulling you out of your trance. Shifting slightly, the silver floor length gown – that was a gift – reflected the coloured lights as the audience broke out in applause. The quality of it was good enough that it helped you blend in with the target patrons.

“Isn’t it dangerous to be wearing that and sitting all alone?” A wistful voice greeted you – your prey for the evening. His hair was slicked back with too much gel giving him a greasy image, a dark tattoo peaked out from the sleeve of his suit jacket.

Huffing a laugh, you played along, “What if I’m looking for danger?”

“Then allow me to help with that.”

Your lips pursed in contemplation as you bit your lip purposefully, “No feelings attached?”

“No feelings,” he confirmed.

His hand extended to you, an invitation you wouldn’t be able to decline. Slipping into his hold, you allowed him to lead you away from the crowd and to the desolate parts of the building. Without warning you were shoved into the cold brick wall, hissing in a pain that was short lived as his lips were immediately on your skin. Responding with a less than equal fervour, you gripped his suit jacket, prying it off and chucking it into the distance.

With needy hands trailing down his back, he made a muffled sound of surprise, “mph,” as your hands gripped the round of his ass. It didn’t deter him however, as he soon began to trail his sloppy kisses down to the collar of your neck.

“It’s cold in here,” you chattered, body shaking slightly to emphasize the words.

With a grimy smirk he assured you, “I’ll warm you up.”

The incessant chime of your phone blared through the night waiting for attention, with an apologetic sigh, you took the call. With a few noncommittal hums and nods your expression morphed from desire to immense panic as you shouted at the caller, “What?! Which hospital?”

After a few more moments on the call you paced back and forth before shouting, “Fuck!”

“Everything okay?” The man you were supposed to be spending the night with asked with a raised brow, you shrugged him off chucking your phone back into your clutch bag.

“Sorry but I really need to go, like right now,” you said through quick breaths as you fixed yourself up as best as you could. Without even waiting for a response you ran out the establishment into the crispy night air like a crazed woman and jumped into the sleek black car.

The tall man didn’t spare you a glance as he sped off, his eyebrows pulled down angrily and his lips were set into a stern line. His arms tensed deliciously every time he turned the wheel and flexed for every gear shift, tearing your eyes away was a challenge.

“I got it. Plan went smooth with no hiccups,” you told him pulling out the key card from your clutch. Kuroo inspected it closely before tucking it away, you shivered thinking about all the places you had to touch that man to find the blasted thing. His silence remained heavy…strange.

“What? No congratulations?” You teased trying to lighten the mood as he snapped at you, “Not now Y/n.”

Taken aback by his attitude your own temper flared raging hot, “What’s up your ass?”

“Think it was enjoyable for me to listen to you both all over each other through the ear piece?”

“That was the safest way I could get the card from him, otherwise he’d be suspicious!” You exclaimed, “You know my method of stealing better than anyone else.”

“What happened to ‘I’d rather choke on my own spit than share saliva with him’,” he mocked, raising his pitch and mimicking your voice terribly.

“I never let him kiss me on the lips you douche.”

“Whatever.”

The car had rolled to a stop at the temporary traffic lights due to road works, the four-way system in place would make it a while before you could continue your journey leaving you to sit tight, the shocking red of the light bounced off the wet pavement.

“Yeah? And what does that have to do with you huh? I did what I thought I had to and it worked so I don-”

He leaned over the centre console, pulling your face to his as he effectively shut you up, with a rough kiss filled with burning anger that melted into pleasant passion. By the end your growing rage had simmered into baby glowing embers. The honking of a car behind and the shimmering green light tore you apart breathlessly as he began to drive again. Thoughts raced around your head untamed as you studied the roads.

“Where are we going?” You asked as he headed straight instead of the planned right turn.

“The dress you’re wearing,” He said as his grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles white as they held on for dear life, “I want you to wear it for me not him – I’m taking you out to dinner.”

Your previous teenage like worries of ‘did he even like me?’ or ‘how awkward would it be if he rejected me?’ drifted away as you smiled out into the window in attempt to hide your burning cheeks and cheesy smile, but from his knowing smirk, you knew he had seen it.

“Okay, I guess we’re going to dinner.”