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total-dxmure · 3 months

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✦ INVISIBLE STRING THEORY →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER THREE

pairings: modern!marine ellie x reader

summary: the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?

warnings: eventual smut! lots of tension building and mutual pining. ellie falls first and hard. small town girl meets a frightening, strong ex marine. TW: talk of panic attacks, ptsd episodes and death. come for the ellie smut and stay for the plot and fluff. (A/N: here we are, the meat and potatoes. the fic is really kicking off. . . and they're already flirting?! ellie is so touch and affection starved that she nearly jumps out of her own skin every time you even look at her.)

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from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

In that halfway space between waking and sleep it was hard to discern what was real and what wasn’t. Your bed felt warm, sheets still tangled around your arms and legs. The weight of your blanket on your chest could easily be confused with another’s body, and so you felt yourself smile. Warm, happy, safe-

Abby was behind you, her limbs expertly twisted around yours like she’d done it a thousand times before. . . and she had.

Slowly you opened your eyes, staring blankly ahead of you into your pitch black bathroom. You recognized the fresh scent of your shampoo, and felt the way your hair still clung to your hot cheeks- wet from your shower the night before. It was like you were suspended in a memory, everything all soft and fuzzy around you. The dots weren’t perfectly connecting, and still you were happy. For a second you just laid there, unable to look down at the hand you could feel so vividly at your waist. Would you see Abby’s knuckles when you looked down? Would you see the rubber promise ring she had insisted on wearing? Everything always had to be even and fair with her.

This morning felt familiar. Like you’d lived it before. Your breath left you in a rush when the bed creaked behind you.

“Abby,” God, she was back. She was back and she was right behind you. “Baby?”

There was a soft groan and then the arm tightened, bringing you into a warm chest. Her bicep squeezed your arm tightly against her shoulder, and all at once you were tucked in so tight. Confusion tugged at your features, and you mulled over exactly why you were clinging to her arm so tightly.

“What’s wrong?” She whispered against your hair, her voice still thick with sleep. Still, her fingers stroked at your bare stomach.

“I had a nightmare,” You mumbled, trying to recall exactly what had plagued you just seconds ago. You can’t remember now that you’re safe here. . . safe with Abby again. “You were gone and I was all alone.”

Those moments came back to you in flashes. The ache, the constant pain of losing her, the “learning to live without her” that crushed you entirely. You turned around in her grasp, nuzzling your nose into the crook of her neck. You took deep inhales, trying to still your rising panic. You could feel the steady beating of her heart against your cheek, the warmth of her bare breasts against your collar bones.

“I was gone?” She raised a hand, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, a few golden strands falling onto her forehead as she moved her head against the pillow beneath her. “You can tell me about it if you want.” She offered supportively, petting your back in slow circles.

You don’t know why. . . but you missed those circles. It felt like you’d been without them for weeks. Months.

“I-I got a phone call. . . and they told me that you’d died,” Your bottom lip quivered, your eyes filling with tears. You couldn’t help but laugh pathetically at your unnecessary hysterics. Abby was right here. Everything was okay. “It felt like the longest nightmare I’ve ever had. It was horrible.”

“You did so good though.” She whispered, her hands still stroking.

Your muscles tensed, and slowly you moved your hand up her side, fingers brushing against her skin. You pressed a soft kiss against the underside of her breast, a tear breaking free past your lower lashes. This moment suddenly felt fleeting.

“I did?” You questioned, pulling away to look at her.

She was so beautiful. Like an angel had fallen from heaven and landed right in your bed. The sun was just beginning to rise, setting the line of trees just outside of your window ablaze. She was diaphanous and golden laying there beneath you. You were so lucky. You could barely breathe when she looked up at you like that, her eyes so thick with pride and love.

“You did, baby girl. You stayed so strong.” She cracked a small smile, but it looked pained. Like she was also realizing that the two of you couldn’t exist here forever. “I need you to keep it up though, alright?” You couldn’t feel her hand on your back anymore, nor the softness of the sheets.

“Please,” You sobbed out, reaching out to cup her cheek. She didn’t feel like anything. Like your hand was molded around a pocket of open space. Nothingness. She was about the size of the palm of your hand now, her urn sitting on the mantle in your living room. “Please don’t leave me again.”

Her blue eyes stared up at you, proud and unwavering in their convictions, as they always were. . . always had been. “I’m never far. Pinky.” Promise.

And then you were in your bed again, the alarm on your phone blaring.

“Abby?” You mumbled, and you didn’t have to turn over to realize you were alone.

Ellie was good at putting pressure on herself. It had always been a form of motivation, as cruel as it seemed. She couldn’t let today be awful. No episodes or meltdowns and no long bouts of silence. You were pretty and it really seemed like you could use a friend.

Ellie could use a friend too.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d shown interest in a girl. She’d always been career driven with a one track mind. She was good at overworking herself and running herself dry. She hoped that you’d be able to use that to your benefit today. Ellie wanted to lose herself in something. . . in someone. She wanted to be useful for the first time in what felt like a long, long while.

So she woke up at the butt crack of dawn and took a shower. She kept her eyes shut tight as she washed herself and didn’t even bother to towel dry her hair before she was pulling on an outfit. Thick droplets of water stained the shoulders of her jean button up as she tied up the laces on her boots. She focused on one shoe at a time, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of you. Every once and a while her brain would wander, hellbent on self destruction, but with a small groan she’d remember the sadness in your eyes.

She’d remember who she was before the accident.

She moved down the stairs as quietly as she could, praying that Joel’s dog wouldn’t start barking once he realized that his new best friend was leaving the house. The keys to her old car were on the rack beside the front door, right next to Joel’s flashy new pair. He’d told Ellie over dinner that he’d been maintaining the beat up old Jeep the best that he could, meaning she at least had a little bit of freedom while she was back home.

She locked the door behind her, the cool morning breeze stinging against her wet ears as she gracelessly stumbled down the stairs, juggling the bulky set of keys in her hand. A huge metal spaceship that Joel had stuffed into her Christmas stocking senior year, a neon green carabiner she’d bought at one of the gas stations closest to her school, and a few other childish charms that she couldn’t place any meaning behind swung from the nearly ancient keychain. Her sense of self expression and style back in those days was tacky to say the least, but she appreciated child-Ellie nonetheless.

“You poor child.” She teased under her breath, climbing into the driver's seat and shoving the key into the ignition. She sucked in a breath and held it before cranking it up.

To her surprise, the clunker started right up, though the engine shook the steering wheel a little when she put the thing in reverse down the driveway. She hadn’t driven a car since that night at the gas station. It felt a little weird to be behind the wheel, but even stranger to be back here. Jackson was a beautiful place. . . but it didn’t feel the same way that it had before. She wasn’t sure if it was because of her age or the changes that were happening inside of her. The streets still looked the same, aside from some very minor changes to neighbor's houses. She barely paid any attention to her surroundings when Joel had driven her through town yesterday, and she was a bit scared to see the differences. She didn’t want to dwell on those thoughts or do any soul searching, so she reached out for the radio, pressing play on whatever CD had been shoved into it last.

Depeche mode began to blast over the speakers, and she let out a small sigh of relief. At least her music taste wasn’t horrible in high school.

But it was no wonder she didn’t have a girlfriend. Ellie wouldn’t have dated little Ellie either, that was for sure.

She felt a bit crazy to be driving in the opposite direction of town. Back when she lived here, town was the only place she was headed when she was allowed out of the house. It was no wonder why the two of you had never really crossed paths. She used to complain about how far off in the “middle of nowhere” Joel lived, but your farm had his ranch beat by fifteen minutes. The houses got fewer and farther in between, and despite how much Ellie truly did enjoy the city, she couldn’t deny how beautiful the countryside was. The sprawling fields, grazing animals, and splattering of wild flowers had her rolling down the windows of her car, ignoring the chill so that she could get a better look of her surroundings.

Even the air quality was better in Jackson.

She’d been down this road a few times in her life, having been in the backseat of Joel’s car every single time. She recognized your home from her memories, but your last name didn’t mean much to her back then. She slowed her car down to a crawl, staring at the large sign that sported your family name proudly.

Ellie would be proud of the farm too if it were hers. She bumped down the drive five minutes earlier than you had told her to show up, staring with wide eyes at your house. It was two stories with a balcony- white with green shutters. The wrap around porch was screened in, protecting you and any guests you might have over from bugs that thrive in the summertime heat.

Your stretch of land belonged on a painting, and for a second she worried if maybe she wasn’t the right friend for you. This house was too nice and Ellie. . . Ellie wasn’t very nice at all. She'd only talked to you for five minutes yesterday, but she got the feeling that you were a "good girl". You were wholesome, which wasn't how anyone in Ellie's life would choose to describe her. She slowly made her way up your front steps, and for a second she wondered if she should leave. It would probably be better if she did. Ellie could always just lie and tell Joel that she couldn’t find your house. . . he’d probably drop it after insulting her about her bad sense of direction.

Ellie couldn’t afford to get a crush on anyone right now either. It was horrible timing, and what would be worse is if you actually ever returned those feelings. How was she supposed to explain to you that she wouldn’t ever make a good partner? She couldn’t protect you from anything, not when any loud sounds or bright lights had her falling to her knees. She was careerless, depressed to the point where she had completely lost who she was, had a drinking problem, and was quite certain that she’d combust the second you’d touch her. She was touch and attention starved, but hadn’t remembered that she was even able to desire someone until she’d seen you yesterday-

You’d be dodging a bullet if she hightailed it right off of your property. So she turned on her heel and stared at her boots as she began walking back down your stairs. Her feet kicked up dirt as she made her way back to her jeep, hand already reaching into her pocket for her keys-

“Did I not hear you knocking on the door?” A feminine voice called out to her.

She sucked in a breath so hard that she let out a loud cough, eyes widening as she turned around to face the porch. You were wearing a pair of dirt stained jeans today, though your hair was fastened back with a white bow. Ellie, despite her previous need to protect you from herself, couldn’t fight off the urge to get closer. There was something different about you today. You were a bit manic, your hands already busying themselves with straightening out a few of the potted plants on your porch. You seemed a bit anxious, but you didn’t comment on it so neither did Ellie. Any boundaries you had yesterday with her were gone. You flashed her a wide smile, sauntering up the drive so that you could wrap her up in a tight hug.

Your arms were shaking as they weaved around her neck, pulling her in close. She froze, limbs locking up in surprise as she tried to fully grasp what was going on. You were treating her like an old friend, someone you were excited to see. Ellie didn’t know why you’d be so happy to see her. . . but then again, she was happy to see you. She remembered what Joel had said last night.

Maybe you were sick and tired of being alone.

Your bare arms were cold too- freezing as her fingers accidentally brushed the backs of them. Ellie realized that she had gotten here just in time. If anything, she cursed herself for not showing up twenty minutes earlier, if only to save you from whatever had you this shaken up.

“I probably knocked too quietly. Should have knocked louder, huh?” She mumbled, biting the inside of her cheek as she gave you a gentle squeeze.

She wasn’t used to holding someone like this that wasn’t Dina or Jesse. You felt nice in her arms. Your muscles weren’t hard or rigid like hers, you were all soft and rounded edges. Gentle curves and arms ready and willing to embrace her. Flushed cheeks and silk bows. You smelled wonderful too- sweet and floral, like Jasmine mixed with honey. She didn’t want to let you go, and you didn’t seem ready to end the hug either.

You were still quivering.

“Yeah, you should have.” You agreed, giving Ellie one last squeeze before taking a few unsteady steps back.

You hadn’t been completely sure whether or not she would show up today. Waking up this early was a lot to ask of anyone, let alone someone you had just met yesterday. Still, a part of you had hoped that she would be here. On days that were this bad you found it impossible to work, no matter how busy it kept you. You often spent “mental health days” laid out by Abby’s grave or buried six feet under pillows and blankets in what used to be your shared bed.

Ellie’s presence changed things.

So you squared off your shoulders and cracked her a wide smile, praying that it looked genuine and not forced.

“Let’s hop in my truck and I’ll take you on a little tour of the property before we get started.” You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched the woman take a few steps closer to you.

Ellie looked like she wanted to say something but was holding herself back. You weren’t sure whether or not you would be able to handle her prying or the pity that would follow.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, wishing so deeply that you hadn’t woken up at all this morning. Ellie was beautiful- gorgeous even. You would have been head over heels if you had met her years ago, before. . . well, before Abby happened. Still, her beauty wasn't enough to completely distract you from your grief. A part of you felt guilty for even finding her attractive as you slid into the front seat of the truck.

Maybe that was why you’d had such a strange dream last night. Or maybe. . . maybe it wasn’t a dream at all. Maybe it really was Abby trying to tell you that it was okay to move on. That was confusing to even think about, and it made you count the months since her death on both of your hands, trying to gauge if enough time really had passed. You didn’t want to be alone anymore, but the thought of being in love with anyone seemed like an impossibility. Everything was broken. How could you ever love anyone the same way that you loved Abby? You’d just be doing that other person a disservice.

That’s right, you were cursed.

You could feel Ellie’s gaze on the side of your face as you made your way down the dirt road, up towards the hen houses. You blinked a few times, the apples of your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Slowly you met her gaze, lips twitching up in a small smile as she quickly looked away from you, nervous over having been caught.

“My dad built ten large coops, so this whole fenced-in area right here is where the chickens graze.” You stopped the car and put it in park, keeping the old thing running like you usually did during your quick morning chores. Sometimes the poor truck had a hard time starting back up, and you’d probably burst into tears if your newfound friend had to walk a half mile back to the house with you.

“Do you guys have any problems with foxes?” She asked, keeping up with your fast pace as you unlatched the front of the fence for the both of you.

Your nose wrinkled in disgust, and you were quick to throw your arms up exasperatedly.

“Oh god, do we! I had to get someone out here to change out the fence just six months ago because one of those little fuckers had somehow managed to dig it’s way into their area. Killed seven of my poor girls.” You remembered how angry you were when you’d pulled up to the coops that morning. Burying seven dead hens wasn’t a pleasant experience for you, but it wasn’t something that was new. Still, you hated knowing that they’d suffered in their final moments.

“Jesus, I’m sorry.” Ellie looked around the area, finding it impossible not to notice how well kept everything was. The coops were freshly painted, the grass was gorgeous and plush- bright green under her feet. Truly, your farm was an oasis. She’d never seen anything quite like it before, and you'd barely even started the tour.

“Can I hold one?” She asked meekly, smiling up at you shyly as you turned to look at her. You didn’t exactly take her as the type of girl that would want to hold a chicken, but you were happy to oblige her.

“One of my mamas just hatched a few chicks. Would you want to hold-”

“Yes.” She quickly added, jogging off in the direction that you were pointing, eager to hold anything tiny and fluffy that you had to offer.

You were shocked at the laugh that bubbled its way out of your chest. A genuine, good natured laugh that you found hard to contain as she began impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for you to catch up.

“Didn’t take you for a chicken lover, city girl.” You teased, unlatching the door for her so that she could make her way inside.

The hens squawked excitedly at your appearance, realizing they’d be able to eat their fill of grass, bugs, and dried corn. A few ran over, crowding at your ankles. Rows and rows of nests were lined up along the walls. In the back of the coop were a few small rectangular doors that you could open, which was what you used to harvest eggs. Your dad’s old coops didn’t have anything fancy like that, so you grew up having your hands pecked at. You used to run back home to your mother with blood bruises and angry, raised skin.

“I love chicks.” Ellie said simply and the double meaning wasn’t lost on you.

As if on cue one of the chickens began pecking at the woman’s ankles, earning a small hiss of surprise from her. You snorted, biting your lip so that you wouldn’t laugh at her expense. “I can’t say the feeling is mutual, apparently.” You added playfully, looking around for the yellow poof balls.

“Old news.” She was smiling at you, and something in your chest began doing awful, uncomfortable flips. For a second you even felt a bit nauseous.

Ellie wasn’t Abby, but there was something similar about the two of them. The short haired girl seemed capable and strong. There was a physical sort of confidence in the way that she walked that told you that she knew how to handle herself. You watched as she shoved her hands in her pockets, shoulders squared off, feet shoulder length apart- and it had your lips parting.

Still, you remembered Joel talking about his daughter. . . saying that she was military. You couldn’t remember which branch she belonged to, but you could tell that she was well trained. You tried to imagine what Ellie would look like if she was put in a situation where she needed to protect herself, and you found a shiver running up your spine.

There was a coldness that had been in her eyes when the two of you had first met that had chilled you to the bone. You saw none of it when you looked into her eyes now, but. . . still. . . the thought terrified you. Had those capable hands ever killed anyone before?

You felt horrible even thinking that, even going as far as to give your thigh a small slap in punishment as you bent down, knees digging into the wood shavings and hay. The chicks didn’t seem off put by your small scowl. They saw you and instantly thought “food”, which had them clumsily running in your direction. You hadn’t heard her walk up beside you, only felt the sleeve of her long sleeve shirt brush against your arm as she sat back on her haunches beside you.

“It won’t scare them if I pick them up, will it?” She asked gently, slowly reaching a hand out so that she could brush it against their plush down feathers. They chirped contentedly, unaware of what “danger” even meant yet. You were guilty of babying your chickens, meaning none of them were scared of humans. They pecked at you when they were annoyed, but were never violent per say.

“Not at all. They might seem a bit unhappy, but it’s only because they’re hungry.”

You pressed your hand to your cheek as you watched the woman pick one of the chicks up, holding the tiny thing tightly against her chest so as to not drop it. There was something almost comical about seeing the woman look this gentle, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she tried not to hurt the tiny thing. It was adorable. Which was terrifying for you.

You were once again reminded of your dream. . . and you didn’t think you were ready to let Abby go. Not even when Ellie looked up at you excitedly, using her free hand to gesture towards the small creature in disbelief. Almost like she was scared that even talking would frighten it.

“So what do we do now?” Ellie asked, putting the chick down so that she could stand back up. You followed her lead, making your way back over towards the door.

“We open up all the doors and let them walk around for the day. I usually come back and get them back in their coops by sundown.” You let her know, leaving the door wide open as you moved coop to coop.

Ellie helped you, cutting down the time in half. The two of you were back in the truck in record time. You showed her the fields where you planted corn in the late summer to get ready for early fall. You pointed out the small flower garden you had taken upon yourself to cultivate, and then you pulled up to the green houses. Her jaw went slack as she took in all of the buildings.

“You do all of this yourself?” She needed to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. Sure, she was no farmer, but even someone like her knew just how much work this must be for you.

She couldn’t imagine you doing this all day, every day all by yourself. It kinda made her chest ache a bit for you. So when you nodded she took it upon herself to climb out of the truck, eager to do something to lighten the burden for you.

As the two of you approached what appeared to be the oldest of the greenhouses, she couldn’t help but realize that she’d been with you for about an hour. . . and she felt great. Better than great, she felt normal. She had been sent out here so that she could recover, and while she didn’t quite understand what that really and truly meant, being here with you felt right. Being around the animals felt therapeutic, and while Joel might have told you a little bit about her in passing, you didn’t know enough about Ellie to pass any sort of judgment or feel any sort of pity.

Even so, Ellie wasn’t sure she’d be against telling you about what happened. Something told her that you would be understanding. You knew what it felt like to lose people, and she was sure that you had regrets somewhere along the line. Everyone does when it comes to losing loved ones.

She hated that you had suffered enough to understand where she was coming from, but loved that she wasn’t alone for once.

The two of you walked in silence, and there was a heaviness in your eyes that let her know that you were thinking about something serious and sad. Ellie wondered whether your father was on your mind this morning. . . or perhaps your girlfriend. It wasn’t her place to ask, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to.

“Want to help me water them?” You finally asked, motioning towards the tables of plants.

She nodded, but quickly turned to face you. She couldn’t count how many green houses you had on top of this one.

“Do we water all of those plants too?” She felt stupid the second that she asked the question, but even more so when you began to giggle.

Sounding stupid was worth it to hear the sound, so she sucked it up.

“Those green houses are newer and have a built in sprinkler system. We just have to worry about this one, thankfully. We’d be here all afternoon if not.” You began to head in the direction of the hose so that you could turn it on, your stomach tightening with hunger.

You knew the second you got back to the house and made breakfast that you’d be nauseous though. Bad days like this were always the same. You were hungry but you couldn’t eat. You wanted to distract yourself but nothing would work. You wanted to talk to someone but didn’t have any friends that you trusted enough to actually. . . onload on, and you were sick of your mom crying on your behalf.

“So you’re staying with Joel now? For how long?” You decided to make small talk as you handed her the hose, walking along with her as she painstakingly paid attention to every sprout.

She licked her lips before answering you, eyes flickering in a way that made you think that she might feel a bit nervous.

“I was. . . sent here. It’s not like I don’t love being home, because I kinda do. It’s just not something that I exactly chose for myself.” That didn’t feel like the whole truth, but you supposed that she would tell you whenever she was ready.

You played with the raw hem of your old t-shirt, suddenly anxious that you might have put her in a bad spot. Still, you found yourself wanting to know more about her.

“Do you have an addiction problem?” You realized how inappropriate it was to be so blunt. Your mouth went bone dry with panic, and you were quick to grab her hand, shaking your head. “A-All I’m trying to say is that my uncle had a really bad drug problem for years. He’s been clean and sober since last Christmas and is doing great. I don’t judge, that’s all. I’m proud of you, if anything.”

She gulped, looking down at your hand and noticing how close your body was to hers now. She fumbled to turn the hose off with one hand, trying to get her breathing under control. It was twice now that you were touching her like this, and she hated herself for wanting to wrap you back up in a hug so bad. She was also trying not to notice how plush and kissable your lips were.

You smelled great too, which made it hard for Ellie to think.

“Yeah, I guess I have a bit of an addiction problem,” She mumbled, but shrugged her shoulders soon after, contradicting herself. “But that’s not really why I’m here.”

Ellie would have to tell you eventually, she supposed. If the two of you were going to be as good of friends as Joel wanted, then she’d have to fess up eventually. It was better to get it out and in the open now rather than later. Plus. . . if she had some sort of a breakdown then maybe you’d be more understanding if you knew why it was happening.

“My therapist tells me that I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was in the Marines and I had a really bad accident. So. . . it was hard for me to live alone.” Ellie stared down at a long-dead leaf on the ground and bent down to pick it up, gently playing with it’s crinkled edges.

“Did you have panic attacks? I have those sometimes too.” You wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone, as stupid as it might sound.

You wanted to relate to her without telling her that your girlfriend had also been a Marine. She was being vulnerable with you, and the last thing you wanted to do was make this moment about you by bringing up your deceased girlfriend.

“Yeah. . . Yeah, I have those a lot. Sometimes I lose track of time- disassociate. It’s scary for others to deal with, so my friends thought that it would be best if I were with Joel. There’s less triggers here than back in Chicago.” You could tell that she was still uncomfortable with the subject matter, but she was powering through.

Ellie appreciated that there wasn’t a hint of judgment in your tone. You genuinely seemed curious. . . and talking about herself like this felt good. Validating, even.

“What triggers you? I just want to make sure that I don’t overstep or accidentally do anything wrong-”

“No, no. You’re fine. It’s more so loud noises and bright lights.”

“So no gunshots?”

“Guns aren’t too bad. . . it’s more so car crashes. Explosions, you know?”

Your mouth went dry. You did know. It’s how Abby died, afterall. You hated that Ellie had gone through something similar. Your heart ached for her.

“Is that how you got this. . . ?” You began to brush your fingers against the scar over her eye. You froze as she flinched, guilt bottoming out your stomach as you quickly yanked your hand away.

She reached out to take your elbow into her calloused hand before you could drop your palm back down at your side, and pressed your fingers against the skin herself. Her skin was still soft, but raised and jagged. You’d never felt a scar this deep before. Still, it was warm under your touch. Alive.

The moment felt oddly intimate, and you kept your fingers there for a few seconds too long before dropping your hand back at your side. Ellie felt like she was going to explode. No one had ever wanted to touch her scar, let alone been allowed to.

“Yeah, It is.” She cleared her throat, grabbing one of her arms in her hands nervously. She was starting to realize that she didn’t mind being seen by you. “I’m legally blind in the eye now, which has been pretty hard to get used to.”

“So you can’t see at all out of it?” You questioned, beginning to walk back over towards the repotting station. You’d noticed a few sprouts that were getting a little too big for their pots, and the last thing you wanted was crowded roots.

She followed after you like a lost puppy, hot on your trail. “I can see shapes and colors. Movement, and everything. But if you held up your hand and asked me “how many fingers am I holding up”, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.” She’d practically had to relearn how to do everything again, as dramatic as that sounded. Losing the vision of one eye affected a lot more than one might think.

“Oh, shit.” You remarked, nose wrinkling up in sympathy. You couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been on top of dealing with the mental anguish of the accident.

“ ‘Oh, shit’ is right.” She agreed with a small smile, leaning her hip against the table as you began laying out the necessary supplies. She watched your hands as they moved expertly around the table, eyes locked on your fingers. “I used to be beautiful.” She joked absentmindedly, alluding to the scar that now marred her features.

“You’re still beautiful.” You said, fully concentrated on the task at hand.

You didn’t realize the weight that your words carried, nor Ellie’s reaction to them. She felt like a giddy teenager. She couldn’t stop herself from fidgeting with the buttons on her shirt. She was smitten.

You were the first person to treat her like an actual human being since the incident. This was the most alive she’d felt in almost a year. . . and she was talking about things. Not like she might talk to her therapist, it was different than that. She was talking to someone that wanted to get to know her, not just to diagnose her, but to understand her. It felt good. Really good. Sickeningly good.

And you thought she was beautiful.

“Do you want to help me repot these little guys?” You asked, motioning towards the tiny pots.

She was scared of killing your seedlings but nodded anyway, desperate for your approval. Ellie watched as you demonstrated the entire thing for her, praying to god she wouldn’t forget a step.

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder, shaking out roots and gently tucking the plants into their new homes. It was calming- melodic, almost. The constant motion, the gentle noises of the wilderness all around you. Ellie could even feel herself getting good at it. Not as good as you, of course. . . but she wasn’t as bad as she thought she would be.

You watched as she rolled her sleeves up and over her forearms, taking a second to appreciate her hands. Once again, you felt guilty for being so attracted to her. Strands of auburn hair had fallen out from behind her ear and hung in her pale face as she focused on her task. Her strong hands worked methodically. Her veins, her knuckles, her forearms and biceps- Ellie wasn’t just beautiful but gorgeous.

‘Give me a sign, Abby. If I’m not reading too far into last night's dream. . . then just give me some sort of a sign.’ You thought to yourself, eyebrows furrowing as you packed more dirt around the seedling in your hand. You felt like you were being horrifically dramatic, but what else could you do?

You felt idiotic. Delusional, even.

Beside you Ellie continued to work, completely unaware of your building turmoil. Pot after pot, she was really getting the hang of it. Pack down a layer of dirt, shake out roots, pack dirt on top- repeat.

She reached out for another one of the black plastic pots, sliding it over in front of her. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t hear the rattling. She’d been so close to covering up whatever was at the bottom with dirt, but the sunlight caught whatever it was just right.

It sparkled.

Ellie pinched the object between two dirt coated fingers, her eyebrows practically raising up to her hairline as she realized that it was a ring. A valuable looking one, at that.

“Uh. . . is this yours?” Ellie asked, showing it to you.

You blinked a few times at the ring, scared for a moment that you were hallucinating, because things like this only happened in movies. People asking for signs from the other side only for a ghostly apparition to pop up on screen.

Still, that was your promise ring in Ellie’s hand.

Your bottom lip quivered, eyes filling up with tears before you could even stop them. You reached out with gentle fingers, taking it into your hand graciously.

“Thank you.”

And you weren’t sure if you were talking to Ellie. . . or Abby.

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birrdies · 2 months

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“when I say you are killing me” (desert duo one-shot, 2.6k)

Every inch of his climb is agony. White-hot and endless, it ricochets through Scar’s body as if it bought an expressway pass through his veins like a highway. Would it have killed Grian to get an apartment on the first floor? Hell, Scar would even take something on the third or fourth-floor if he had to. Anything would be better than dragging himself, slowly and painfully, up twelve flights of rickety metal stairs. In the snow. In the middle of the night. Bleeding.

Scar’s having a bad night.

Blood dribbles between the gaps of his fingers. It’s slower than it had been, but each heave up another flight of stairs blinds him with pain and sends a few more fresh droplets of blood sliding down his middle. His shirt (whatever tatters remain of it anyway) and pants are wet and tacky, sticking to his skin like a perpetually wet bathing suit as he tries to climb the rest of the way up to Grian’s apartment.

The fire escape is an old decrepit fixture of rusting metal mounted to the brick siding with nothing more than a few loose bolts and a dream. It groans beneath his weight, the barest shake of wind causing the metal to ripple and shudder. The metal saps the warmth from his already cold, pale fingertips. He’d had gloves, but had to get rid of them as they were soaked in blood and not all-that conducive for climbing-under-the-influence (of blood loss). Scar’s not afraid of much, least of all heights, but he chooses each step up the fire escape carefully, muscle memory a crutch as he drags himself past open windows with the lights still on. Last thing he needs is another broadcast claiming HotGuy is nothing but a petty creep with a penchant for B&Es.

By the time he reaches the twelfth floor he’s shaking from head-to-to. Each breath sears through him, rivaling the sharp-edged pain of lightning, setting him alight. It burns through him, the aftershocks never ending as he pulls himself upright and grasps onto the edges of Grian’s windowsill. A pained whine catches between his teeth; he refuses to let it out.

Curled up at Grian’s windowsill as he peeks through the drawn curtains at the warm lamplight cascading through the glass, Scar finds the painful climb was well worth each and every second of agony. No better minded than a moth drawn to a flame Scar leans in to rest his forehead against the glass, the warm, golden glow from within Grian’s apartment beckoning him forward. Inside, Grian’s sitting at his desk around a cluster of books and papers strewn around as if a bomb had gone off. His hair is fuzzy and curled at the tips, as it always is whenever Grian lets it air dry after a shower. His shoulders are hunched and the sides of his face are illuminated by the blue glow of his laptop screen. Even through the glass Scar can hear the incessant clacking of his keys as he furiously types away at whatever assignment he’s working on.

It takes Scar more than one try to build up the courage to disturb him. He looks peaceful (or about as peaceful as someone working on a lab report can be), and Scar knows that peace will shatter the second he knocks, the second he barges in, yet again, on Grian’s evening and sweeps him up in his vigilante shenanigans.

Scar’s bloodied hands grasp onto the windowsill, red streaks staining the chipping white paint like a crime scene out of some gruesome horror movie Grian would have him watch. He winces at the sight; it’ll be a nightmare to scrub out. He’ll have to remember to buy Grian dinner one of these days to make it up to him and hope that Grian will have the heart, eventually, to forgive him.

“Grian,” he mumbles, startled to find his voice nothing more than a gravelly rasp. He reaches to knock, but his arms are as stiff as uncooked spaghetti noodles and don’t listen to a word he has to say. With a huff of frustration, Scar pitches his weight forward and thumps his head twice against the glass. The dull ache through his forehead is nothing compared to the feverish burning tearing through his chest and stomach.

Inside, a shadow bolts across the floor. Grian’s cat, Maui. In his chair Grian twists around at the sound. He’s wearing his glasses— Scar’s heart drops low in his stomach at the sight— and squints through the darkness to see Scar sheepishly waving at him through the glass, his breath fogging it up just enough to be seen.

He unfurls himself from his chair and comes to pry the window open. Scar comes face-to-face with his heart-patterned pajama pants, two sizes too big and pooling around his ankles. Wait, are those Scar’s?

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Grian is asking before Scar manages to start dragging himself in through the open window. It’s only for the briefest millisecond, in Grian’s ignorance, that Scar can be grateful for the starless, moonless night. The dark shields him not only from the prying eyes of neighbors, but from Grian’s scrutiny. In this dark he can’t see the blood, can’t see the tears in his shirt. In the dark, he might just look a little ruffled, no worse for wear than he usually is after a busy night patrolling. In the dark, he and Grian can pretend, albeit for only a second, that everything is normal.

But as the pain and dark corners throbbing in his periphery are keen on reminding him, everything is very much not normal.

“I seemed to have lost my watch,” Scar says as he pulls himself in through the open window. Every movement is measured, half-withheld, ginger— everything that Scar isn’t, and he’d be a fool to think Grian wouldn’t notice. He does immediately, because he’s Grian, and he’s never been truly ignorant when it comes to Scar, despite Scar’s best intentions.

Grian steps back with wide eyes. The color drains from his face as Scar holds his weight against the wall with one blood-slicked hand and struggles to stand at his full height. Every inch he tries to stand taller, the more the swelling edges of the wound start to pull and ache.

“Scar?” Grian’s face, usually so warm and vivid, especially under the light of his desk lamp, pales to a near lifeless color. He staggers toward him, hands held out in front of him as if to catch Scar. “Scar, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Right as rain, G,” Scar says, managing a wry smile. “Honest.”

“Don’t give me that.” Grian rushes forward, grabbing Scar around the shoulders and steering him towards the futon in the middle of the room. The second Grian touches him some of Scar’s pain fades, if not just because he has somewhere else to pitch his weight, to take some of the strain off his bloodied, torn middle.

The pair of them hobble to the futon, Grian whispering mumbled nothings as he lowers Scar onto the edge and forces him to sit back with firm hands on his shoulders. Scar allows himself the smallest mercy of relaxing into the cushions, his arms and legs limp at his sides as his head lulls back to rest against the back of the futon. It’s as if every string tying his marionette up, stringing him along, has been cut all at once. It’s somehow blissful and terrifying all at the same time. He’s not sure he’s ever been this roughed up, this exhausted.

And in front of Grian of all people?

Grian, whose face is drawn tight, whose shoulders and jaw are rigid as if he’s been made out of wood. Grian, who anxiously flutters at Scar’s side for a second before disappearing in a flurry toward the kitchen. Scar’s head is too heavy for him to lift, but he hears Grian rummaging and cursing under his breath before he returns just as quickly as he left. In his arms he balances a handful of small dishtowels, a first-aid kit, and a box of blue rubber gloves.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, to himself more than to Scar, as he sits on his knees on the cushion beside Scar and leans over to assess the wounds.

Gingerly he pulls the tattered shreds of his black shirt away from the wound-bed (as much as he can with some of the fabric stuck to his body with blood like glue) and winces at the gory sight. Scar’s skin is torn in jagged ridges, three gouge marks clawed from just under his ribs and down across his right abdomen. Thankfully, the worst of the bleeding seems to have stopped, dark, thick globules of blood already starting to stitch together like wads of hot glue around the wound, crusting on the skin.

Grian examines it all with a crease between his brow that Scar, after all this time, has come to know means he’s irritated. He’s always looked especially cute when he’s angry (part of the reason it’s just too easy for Scar to give into the temptation to push his buttons whenever possible), but the downturn of his lips, the whites of his eyes, reveals something far more serious. Worry. Grian’s worried about him, and maybe it’s the blood loss starting to get to Scar in earnest, but Scar finds he far prefers this sight. He can’t help but smile back at him, even though he knows it’ll likely earn him a punch when he’s no longer bleeding out on Grian’s couch.

“Scar.” Grian says his name as if he’s been saying it for a while, but Scar’s only just now hearing it. “This is bad. Like, really bad.”

Scar blinks down his nose at him, brow furrowed. “You should see the other guy,” he says with a weak huff of laughter. “Stuck him so full of arrows you could call him a porcupine.”

“Scar, this is serious,” Grian admonishes, snapping on a pair of gloves and brushing his hair from his eyes.

“But you’re gonna fix me right up, ain’t you, Doc?” Sar teases, lifting his head just enough to catch Grian’s scowl as he flicks open the first-aid kit and fishes out a small brown bottle.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” Grian says, and there he goes again— detached, analytical, dawning his ‘I’m calm and collected’ persona. He pulls a pair of scissors out of the first-aid kit and tests the snap of them. “This doesn’t look like it was from some kind of a knife—”

“Ravager,” Scar says, gritting his teeth in anticipation. “Jerk got too close.”

Grian raises an eyebrow. “Sounds more like you got too cocky.”

Again, Scar finds himself fighting (and failing) to conceal a smug little smile. “You’re worried about me, just say it.”

“I’m pissed off is what I am,” Grian snaps. He peels up one edge of Scar’s shirt and begins cutting away as much of the fabric as he can without disturbing the edges of Scar’s wounds. He winces only when the shirt tugs too sharply on the red, puffy edges of the wound. And Grian, to Scar’s surprise, nearly flinches every time he does.

“Sorry, sorry,” Grian whispers each time, sounding so unlike himself. His face is pale, and if Scar isn’t mistaken there’s the faintest tremble to his hand.

“It’s okay,” Scar says, just as hushed, as if the slightest movement or raise in his voice will spook Grian. “Do what you gotta do. I’m tough, I’m strong. I can take it.”

Grian scoffs and peels a foil lid from the bottle’s cap, dumping a bit of it onto a folded dishrag. “Yeah, okay. We’ll see how tough and strong you are once I start cleaning this.”

“Give me your worst, Doc.” Scar lets his head loll back to stare at the ceiling, taking as deep a breath as his tense, wounded chest will allow. The twinge of pain reminds him to stay awake, has his fingers curling into the fabric of the futon beneath him.

Grian doesn’t give Scar a warning, which he appreciates. The anticipation is the worst part. He grits his teeth and bares it as Grian firmly, but not violently, uses the alcohol-soaked rag to wash away the blood from his torn skin. Scar scrunches his eyes shut and breathes through it, the pain an unrelenting impulse racing through his veins like faulty circuitry gone haywire.

And as soon as it starts, it’s over. Grian sits back on his heels and tosses the now blood-soaked rag to the floor. He wipes at the sweat blistering across his forehead with his arm, taking a shaky breath in as he examines his handiwork.

“It’s not too deep,” he says, sounding the slightest bit relieved. He twists to reach for the first-aid kit again. “You’re lucky I swiped this stuff from the lab. Though I won’t begin to guess why you came here instead of a hospital. This needs stitches, probably.”

“Eh, I’m not worried about another scar,” Scar dismisses, ignoring the small beads of sweat starting to gather on his own brow. He can’t handle Grian thinking he’s caused him any more pain; the only thing worse than suffering as he is now is to watch Grian torture himself over things he can’t control. Like Scar. “Besides, I can’t exactly keep up the whole secret identity thing if I go to a hospital half in costume, now can I?”

“Secret identity,” Grian parrots mockingly, unraveling a bundle of bandages and starting to tack them down around Scar’s middle. “You nearly got gutted, and that’s what you’re worried about. Of course.”

He’s angry. Scar would be an idiot to not be able to see it, and maybe it shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does. But it’s not the anger that catches Scar off guard. It’s what lingers beneath it: Grian’s gloved, trembling hands, the way he can’t look Scar in the eye more than a second before having to look away, burying himself in sorting through the first-aid kit for the fourth time as if looking for something to help and, just like every other time, coming up empty-handed.

Grian’s scared.

Scar’s known Grian for years now, and over that time he’s been a lot of things. Angry, judgmental, infectiously funny, bright. But afraid has never been a word Scar has used to describe him.

“Grian…”

“Of course I’m worried,” Grian says, catching Scar off guard. His voice is so quiet, so hushed that Scar wonders if he imagined it. Because something so vulnerable and soft sounding couldn’t come from someone as headstrong and impervious as Grian. It simply isn’t possible. “How could I not be? Have you looked at yourself?”

“Hey.” Scar can’t dream of sitting up, but he manages to leverage himself up just enough to reach for Grian’s wrist. He’ll feel bad about staining Grian’s sleeves with blood later. For now he needs to grab hold of him, pull him in close. To reassure him. “I’m fine. I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m in good hands, yeah?”

“Scar,” Grian says, sounding like he’s about to start crying. He curls his fingers into a weak fist, as if to pull from Scar’s grasp, but he doesn’t try it. He only holds it there, waiting. “I’m not exactly qualified. I’m a bio student, not a—”

“You’re doing fine,” Scar insists, caressing the inner aspect of Grian’s wrist with his thumb. There, he can feel the furious pace Grian’s heart takes on at the touch, like his pulse is ready to leap out from beneath the thin layer of skin. He flashes a smile, just to prove it to Grian. “I’ve bounced back from a lot worse than this. I’m just glad I don’t have to do it alone this time.”

#desert duo #desert duo fic #scarian #<- just in case #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #goodtimeswithscar #grian #birdie writes #sometimes I forget I am a writer and forget to post the things I’ve been writing like a madman #blame fishbloc for making me post this one

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pixlokita · 3 months

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Hey Pix. What if....

Cassidy becomes the clingiest friend to Evan because he used to confide that he was lonely before the bite, and now he just can't get rid of her. EVER. She's a complete nuisance, and Michael's starting to get suspicious

(This is referring to Back in the Nightmare AU btw :D)

Once golden duo always golden duo 🥺💖

#pix answers #fnaf #cloud #augh TTwTT it was so sad when they got separated #can’t wait for them to reunite in the past #🥺🥺🥺🥺#beepas

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arlana-likes-to-write · 3 months

Text

You're Such A by Hailee Steinfeld

Summary: After years of being in an abusive relationship, you met Kate and Lucky and learned your worth. But when gifts start appearing at your work and apartment with no name, you start to wonder if you are truly safe.

Note: There are themes in this story that may be triggering please read all the warnings. There will be spoilers in the warnings. As always my inbox is open if you ever need someone to talk to!

Warning: stalking and stalking behavior, rape/non-con, gun violence, kidnapping, reader's ex is abusive, drinking, protective Kate Bishop and Avengers, nightmares, Gaslighting, injuries, ex family is rich but corrupt, implied sex

Word count: 4.7k

Strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush to her front. It was impossible not to melt against your girlfriend. Her face buried into the crook of your neck, warm breath tickling your skin. “Coffee is almost ready,” you spoke softly, not wanting to ruin the morning’s tranquility. “And I ordered your favorite; it should be here soon.”

“‘M sleepy,” she grumbled. You smiled and turned around in her arms. Kate returned late last night from a mission. Normally, she would spend the next day in bed or lodging around her apartment with you. However, today was Yelena’s birthday, which meant dinner at the tower and bar hopping tonight to celebrate the blonde.

“I know, baby,” you ran your hands through her hair and massaged her scalp. A smile graced your lips as Kate hummed happily. “Once you have breakfast, coffee, and a shower, you’ll feel better,” Kate smirked.

“Are you going to join me in the shower?” You couldn’t say no to that smile and her incredible blue eyes.

“Yes, sweetheart,” she kissed you quickly.

“Go sit on the couch. I’ll make your coffee and wait for the food,” you wanted to protest since Kate needed her rest, but you preferred how she made your coffee. Stealing another kiss, you walked over to the couch and sat down. Immediately, Lucky jumped next to you and rested his head on your lap. You had to thank this little guy for introducing Kate into your life. You were a veterinarian technician and walked the one-eyed golden retriever’s first check-up. It was a little embarrassing how quickly you fell for the archer; her energy matched Luck. The duo came into your life exactly when you needed them to. You found out your girlfriend of 4 years was cheating on you. Kate was everything Ryan wasn’t. Ryan was controlling, manipulative, and easy to anger.

Your phone buzzed, and you groaned, picking it up. You heard your girlfriend chuckling from the kitchen. Knowing it was Yelena’s birthday celebration, you took today and tomorrow off, but they could call you in if they were short-staffed. However, it didn’t work. It was a text from a number you still need to save. A simple hi with a smiley face. Odd. “Is it work?” Kate asked, managing to carry two mugs of coffee and the breakfast. Quickly, you stood up to help her and pushed Lucky off the couch. She gave you an amused smile at your pointed look when she knew you were annoyed she didn’t ask for help.

“No,” you sipped your coffee, moaning at the taste. You loved teasing your girlfriend that she could make an excellent barista if the whole Avenger gig didn’t work. “It’s a wrong number. I’m going to ignore it.”

You were a disgusting, sweaty mess. A mob of bodies surrounded you, and Kate’s arms were around your waist, holding you close as you danced against her. After a few rounds of shots, Kate pulled you to the club’s dance floor. This was the group’s third bar of the night, and you were feeling the effects of the drinks. There was a buzz flowing through your veins. It was a mixture of the alcohol and Kate’s lips on your neck. You moaned, her lips attacking a sensitive spot underneath your ear. “Fuck,” she groaned. “I’m so close to ditching everyone and taking you back to my apartment.” You were surprised you heard her over the song’s bass and the voices of the other people in the club. Giggling, you turned around to face her. Your arms moved behind her neck.

“I don’t think Yelena would be pleased,” you yelled over the music. “She may kill you.”

“Worth it,” she kissed your cheek. “You’ve been killing me all night in this outfit.” It was why you wore it. Teasing your girlfriend was your favorite pastime. You pulled her closer, placing your lips against hers, and she quickly depended on it. No one else mattered. She consumed all of your senses; the fruity drink she just finished was on her lips, and the faint scent of her perfume and the callouses on her fingers gripped the skin underneath your shirt. It was over too soon as a hand-pulled you away from Kate.

“I have to pee,” America whined, dragging you towards the bathroom. You laughed at the defeated look on Kate’s face. There was no one in the bathroom and no line. America stumbled into the stall and let out a sigh. “You and Kate look good out there,” she yelled as if she was still on the dance floor. You rolled your eyes and pulled out your phone. A few messages were in the group chat, and a picture was sent to you. It was you and Kate dancing together. The picture was a little blurry, but you could see your smile, and how Kate looked at you made your stomach flip. You quickly saved the photo and made it your lock screen. America left the stall, cleaned her hands, and dragged you back out. You had enough time to put your phone in your pocket.

“Someone is popular,” you entered the veterinary clinic with your bag over your shoulder and two iced coffees; one was for you, and the other was for Ashley, your best friend and the receptionist at the clinic. “You got some gifts over there.” You handed her the coffee and walked to the table with boxes, flowers, and stuffed animals. A majority had your name on it, while others had the names of your colleagues. It wasn’t rare that patients sent gifts in the form of gift cards and chocolates to show their appreciation. You preferred the chocolates over everything. Carefully, you picked up the stuffed animal resembling Lucky, even missing an eye.

“Can you divide it up between all of us?” You asked Ashley. “I don’t need all of this.” She nodded, wrapping her hands around the coffee mug, and took a sip.

“Are you keeping Lucky 2.0?” She teased. You nodded your head excitedly.

“It’s so cute!” You cooed, squishing its face against yours. “It has no name. I wonder who sent it. I don’t know who to thank.”

“Probably went with one of these gifts,” she shrugged. “Just ask the patients you see. Someone will take credit for it.”

“Honey, I’m home!” Kate’s sing-song voice rang throughout the apartment. It made you smile. Usually, it would put you in a good mood, but not today.

“I’m upstairs,” you called out to her. You heard her take the stairs two at a time to reach you quickly. When the door opened, you refused to move from the cocoon of blankets with Lucky at the foot of the bed. You found yourself spending more and more time at Kate’s apartment than your own: an extra bathroom toothbrush, clothes in her closet, and your shoes by the door. Her apartment was your safe space, so after a brutal day at work, you made your way to her bed and waited for her to come home. Her scent in the blankets tricked your mind into thinking her arms were around you. You were sure Ashley texted Kate to inform her of the day you had. A life-saving surgery went wrong, and you had to consult a grieving family that quickly turned to anger directed at you.

“Hi, baby,” you felt the bed dip under her weight. “What can I do?” You merely shrugged. She sighed, carefully putting her arm around your waist and pulling you into her chest. There was no energy in your body to fight her, and you allowed her to maneuver you until your face was pressed against her chest. Her hair was damp; she must have showered at the tower before rushing over here. “I got you, baby girl. Let go.” You weren’t used to this soft treatment. Kate was always there to pull you into her arms and allow you to fall apart. “I’m so proud of you. You did everything you could,” she praised. You shook your head. The praise felt bitter. You were undeserving of it. “None of that,” she kissed your head. “I know you, sweetheart, you did your best. We can’t save everyone no matter how hard we try.” The tears escaped your eyes, staining the fabric of Kate’s shirt. But she held you tight.

When you arrived at work the next day, a beautiful bouquet of flowers was at your desk with a note. ‘I’ll be thinking about you today.’ There was a heart at the end. You smiled, slipping the note into your wallet. You weren’t sure how Kate had enough time to set this up, but you were grateful. Texting your girlfriend to thank her for the flowers you got to work. It was during lunch that you learned Kate wasn’t the one to send you flowers. Who was it?

Something was happening. More gifts were being sent to the clinic and even your apartment. The notes that were attached had a tone of possessiveness to it. They wanted you; to them, no one else could have you. It was scary. At first, you kept it from your girlfriend, not wanting to worry her, but she found out when gifts were being sent to her apartment. All addressed to you. She arranged her Avenger duties to walk you to work and pick you up once your shift was done. During lunch, she delivered food to you, so you didn’t have to leave. It was a little suffocating and restricting, but you knew she was doing all this to keep you safe until the Avengers could figure out who was behind it.

Ashley was on her lunch, so you were asked to watch the front desk. It was a relatively slow day. Therefore, it was a no-brainier for you to help your friend get ahead on administrative tasks, reaching out to patients to confirm appointments, answering emails, and reminding them about billing issues. You were on the phone when the door opened. “I’ll be right with you.” You said, not taking your eyes away from the screen.

“Take your time,” your stomach dropped at the voice. Ryan. You glanced over the counter and saw your ex. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a few weeks, her clothes a little messy, and dark circles under her eyes. “Finish the call, sweet cheeks,” she smiled, leaning against the counter. Now you saw it, the pistol in her hand. “Go on.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” you went back to booking the appointment. “Yes, we have availability at 2 PM on Thursday.” Could they hear how your voice shook? Ryan was flipping through a calendar the clinic had set up on the counter. “Right, of course. We’ll see you then. Have a great day.” You hung up, saved the appointment on the computer, and wrote on a sticky note letting Ashley know about the call. You added Ryan’s name to it.

“What do you want?” You asked and faced her.

“I’m disappointed, sugar,” she closed the calendar and looked at you. Her smile once caused butterflies in your stomach, and now it scared you. “Everything I’ve given you and not a single thank you.”

“What-?” It hit you suddenly. The gifts. The random text messages. Was the photo her, too? You reassured Kate that it couldn’t have been Ryan. You changed your phone number, address, and even the place you worked when you ended it with her.

“You’ve always been so smart,” she smiled. “Come with me, or I’ll start lighting this place up.” You had no choice but to follow her out of the clinic. To the average eye, you and Ryan looked like a loving couple. Her arm wrapped around your shoulders, bringing you closer to her, but those who walked the streets couldn’t see the gun pushed into your side. Ryan opened the passenger door, helped you in, and kissed your hand before closing it. It took a lot of self-control to keep yourself seated. The fear of the unknown of that pistol she had. Would she use it on you? Soon, she got in the driver’s seat and let out a sigh. “Baby,” the pet names were making your stomach twist. It was sickening how much you graved them from her at one point. “Safety first,” she reached over you to buckle your seat belt. You felt paralyzed.

“Where are you taking me?” You finally found your voice to ask.

“I’m taking you home.”

Ashley was surprised to walk back into the clinic to find the waiting room filled with patients. Victoria, the other vet tech, was trying to soothe angry humans with equally emotional pets. “What happened?” Ashley asked, walking behind her desk. “Where is Y/n?” She dropped her bag to the floor instead of hanging it up.

“I don’t know,” Victoria said. “But it’s not like her to just leave without letting one of us know.” Ashley frowned but focused her attention on a woman with a very yappy Pomeranian. She smiled, apologized with her best customer service voice, and tried to put out fire after fire.

“Yes,” she said on the phone. “We can reschedule your appointment.” Ashley looked at her calendar and saw the sticky note with your handwriting. It explained that you added another appointment to her online schedule, but Ryan was written at the end of it. Why would you write her name? Unless. “Yes, sorry, I’m here.”

Ryan’s hand rested on your thigh, nails digging into the scrubs. The radio was on, filling the empty silence, but you weren’t able to listen to whatever song was playing. Your skin was on fire, and all of your nerve endings were fixated on her hand on you. “Are you excited to go back?” She asked. “It’s been a while since you’ve been.” You were watching the mileage signs, and the exists she was taking. She was driving towards Cape May, New Jersey. It was a 2-hour drive from the city, and her family owned a few properties out there. During the warmer months, you would take the drive and stay at one of the vacation homes. “Come on, sweetheart, why are you so quiet? You love this drive.” You did. Ryan always drove, so it forced her to spend time with you. You cleared your throat.

“How - how have you been?” You asked. “How’s the business?” Ryan’s family was wealthy. Her family owned resorts in a few tropical islands built long before Ryan was born. High-profile guests and celebrities frequented the resorts due to their impeccable service, stunning locations, and commitment to creating unforgettable experiences. But when Ryan’s grandparents inherited Heritage Luxury Resorts, the business began to take a darker turn. They were too focused on maintaining their luxury lifestyle and took advantage of the indigenous population and the land the resorts were built on. Ryan sighed, tightening her hold on you, and winced from the pain.

“Complicated. Mother and father are being difficult.” Before you broke up with Ryan, you overheard a rumor from the staff working in her house that her parents would kick her out of the will. The business would go to her younger brother.

“I’m sorry,” you placed your hand on top of hers. “I know how hard it is to please them.” You had to keep her happy and please her whenever you could.

“See, I knew you would understand,” she picked up your hand and kissed the back of it. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too, Ry Ry,” you had to be strong and wait until Kate came to save you.

Kate’s blood was boiling. It had been since she received the call from Ashley, and Yelena drove her and America to your work. She watched the security footage of your ex threatening you with a pistol, and you left with her. Her anger was simmering in her stomach, and all she saw was red, but there was lingering guilt. She should have pressed harder for you to take time off, but you loved your job. America placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “She must want to know she is responsible,” Yelena said. “With her money and resources, she could have hired someone to do it for her.”

“I’ll have FRIDAY flag her and Y/n’s passport,” America added. “Keeping them in the states limits the number of properties Ryan could take her.” Kate nodded.

“We have to find her,” Kate said. “Ryan is deeply unhinged.” You spent one night explaining every awful thing she did to you. “I don’t know what she’ll do to her.”

Ryan opened the front door to the house for you to walk inside. You could hear the sound of the ocean and smell the salt. It was once senses that provided you comfort. “Go sit, and I’ll make you something to eat.” She kissed your forehead and laced her hand with yours. She led you to the kitchen island and helped you sit on the bar stool. Round the corner, she began to cook. The pistol was on her back. “I can make your favorite. Shrimp scampi.”

“Sounds great,” you forced a smile. It wasn’t your favorite, but it was the only meal she could cook halfway decently. You looked around the house. It has mostly stayed the same since the last time you were there. “Is this where you’ve been staying?” You asked. Ryan nodded.

“I left for here after you broke up with me,” she flashed you a smile. It scared you. “Which was partly my fault that we broke up, but you also allowed your emotions to get in the way.” Was that her half-ass attempt at an apology? Gaslighting you to believe you acted irrationally. Once upon a time, you would have compromised and taken the blame to keep the peace. But that was before you met Kate, the other Avengers, and learned your worth.

“You’re right,” set a bowl in front of you filled with pasta and shrimp that looked like heated-up leftovers. “I should have stayed and not run.”

“See, like I said, so smart. Now enjoy!” you are as you listen to Ryan droning on and on about the legal battles her family was facing. Never stopped to ask how you were doing. It wasn’t always like this - she showed a loving and caring side for the first year and a half. When you were robed in, trapped, she showed her true colors. She made it impossible for you to leave and broke you down, believing no one could ever love you except her. Once you were both done, you washed the dishes and put the leftover food in the fridge. “I have a surprise for you.” She put her arm around you and brought you upstairs to the master bedroom. She gestured at you to open the closed door, but you hesitated. “Open the door, sweetie.” You wanted to refuse, to be stronger than her, but you needed to keep her calm. You had to make her believe you were on her side. Opening the door, you felt sick. The food you ate turned in your stomach; bile moved up your throat. The windows were covered with blackout curtains; the light bulbs were replaced, so the room glowed red. But the walls were covered with pictures. Most were solo pictures of you going to work, walking Lucky, or shopping. The other photos were of you and Kate. However, Ryan photoshopped her face over Kate’s—the dates Kate took you on, Ryan or someone she hired was there. The worst photos were the ones she somehow got you and Kate in bed. You turned to face her. “Do you like it?”

“How? Why?”

“Oh, sweet girl,” she cupped your cheek. “I told you. You are mine. No one can take you from me. I love you, and I know deep down you love me.” No. No. No. At one point, you did. You loved her so much, but now you hated her. You resented everything she did to you that broke you down.

“No,” you mumbled. Ryan hummed in question. “I don’t love you.” You pushed on her chest and ran for the door. She was quick to react and grab your waist. You fought against her, but she was still stronger than you.

“Pretty girl, please, I don’t want to hurt you,” she threw you on the bed and covered your body with hers, pinning your hands above your head. “Stop struggling.” You kept fighting. You couldn’t give up when you had people waiting for you.

“Please let me go, Ryan, please,” you whimpered, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. “I wanna go home.”

“You are home,” Her voice was sickly sweet, and she kissed your cheek dangerously close to your mouth. “You are mine. Now and forever.”

“They cross into New Jersey by the Vincent R. Bridge, and that is where FRIDAY loses them,” Sam explained. Kate found it hard to believe anyone could avoid detection from Tony Stark’s AI. They had footage of you being forced into Ryan’s car and then driving to the bridge. After that, the trail goes dark.

“The Heritages have a few properties in New Jersey,” Maria said. “A few in Newark, Secaucus, and Cape May.”

“Why do you need that many properties in New Jersey?” America mumbled. It was a far point, but Kate was stuck on Cape May. She remembered you telling her stories about a vacation home they owned there. Ryan would take you there after a fight.

“Maria, can you pull up the properties they own in Cape May?” Kate asked.

“If we limit apartment buildings and restaurants,” Jesus, Kate thought, were they trying to create a monopoly? “That leads us to four rental properties.” The front of each house was pulled up on the screen. “Satellite imagining shows vehicles at all 4 of them,” Ryan was brilliant but dangerous, and if they chose the wrong house, she should get tipped off.

“What’s going through your mind, Kate?” Yelena asked.

“She told me that Ryan would bring her to one of these houses after a fight,” Kate explained and stood up. “I just have to think. Give me a second,” she stared at the images, racking her brain for any detail.

‘I know I should hate that place,’ you told her. Your head rested on Kate’s lap with your eyes closed as you told her about your time at Cape May. ‘It was a band-aide that was placed on a serious wound. But I loved being able to walk right on the beach.’

“Remove any of them that don’t have direct access to the beach,” one house was removed. Good. It was a start. Think. Think.

‘There was a pool too. I found myself there when she was off doing god knows what.’

“Do any of them have a pool?” All three pictures remained. “Shit,” she rubbed her hands across her face and crossed her fingers behind her head. It had to be something unique.

‘My favorite part was when we would stay in the master suite, there was a fireplace. I’d love to start a fire and read by it.’

“What house has a fireplace in the master bedroom?” She saw Maria smile, and only one house remained. “That’s where Ryan took her.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. Yes. No. Maybe.

“Yes, she’s there.” You had to be.

Your body ached as the door opened to Ryan with a glass of water and a wet cloth. She had your arms bonded above your head. Your legs were chained, but she undone them before she had her way with you. Ryan whipped the tears off your face and cleaned between your legs. With even more care, she put on a pair of sleep shorts. “Here,” she held the glass to your lips. “Drink,” you refused to even though you desperately wanted to soothe your throat. Your ex sighed and placed the glass on the nightstand where the pistol was. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you not enjoying our time together?” You closed your eyes, lips quivering. “Hey,” she slapped you on the cheek, and your eyes shut open. “I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

“No,” you answered honestly. “I want to leave.” She stood up and rolled her sleeves to her elbows.

“I gave you everything,” she said. “You are nothing without me. You left me,” she banged her fist against her chest. “For a wannabe Avenger. For a washed-up aristocratic.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” you said. “She is everything you aren’t. You are a -” You let out a shaky breath. “You had your chance, and you blew it. You ripped it up, chewed it, and the more talk you prove it.” Ryan straddled your chest, hand gripping your throat.

“Keep talking. I fucking dare you.” Something snapped inside you. There was so much rage in your stomach.

“You’re such a.” She grabbed the pistol and put it to your temple. “Did you think I would let you crawl back into my life after everything we’ve been through? I’m finally doing better without you.” You spit in her face. A sheering pain rippled through your head. The face before you became unfocused, and it was getting harder to keep your eyes open—a ringing formed in your ears. You couldn’t tell if it was the concussion or if you heard the door was forced open. Suddenly, Ryan’s body was ripped off of you, and different hands grabbed onto you. You knew these hands. Warm, calloused hands. She was saying your name, and your arms were freed.

“Kate?” You whispered.

“Yeah, baby, it’s me,” you choked out a sob and put your arms around her neck, pulling her closer. “I know. I know.” Her voice shook. “You’re safe. Let’s get you home.”

For the first time in the Heritage family’s history, their money and power couldn’t protect them. Ryan was sentenced to prison, and you helped the prosecutors bring down the Heritage family and gave the land back to the ingenious people they stole it from.

Recovery was slow. The injury on your head from Ryan hitting you with the pistol healed, but you would flinch at every loud noise whenever someone touched you, and your nightmares made you believe Ryan was coming back for you. Work allowed you as much time off as needed, so you spent your days locked away in Kate’s apartment.

You were sitting on the window ledge, head resting on the glass. Your hand was running through Lucky’s fur. “Hi,” Kate said, sitting down in front of you. The archer put her Avenger duties on hold until you were better. You felt a little guilty for it.

“Hi,” you whispered, grabbing her hand and interlocking your fingers with hers.

“How’s today going?” She never asked how you were doing. You grew tired of everyone asking you, so she changed the wording but meant the same thing.

“Today is good,” you answered honestly. It was good. There was no nightmare last night that woke you up. You joined Kate on her walk with Lucky. “Katie,” you hummed in question. “You are,” you paused. Was there a singular word to describe her? “Everything. I don’t think I could get through this without you.” The archer smiled.

“Of course you would have,” she said. “You are so much stronger than you think you are. So much more than whatever lies she told you. You are my beautiful, wonderful, brilliant, and strong girlfriend.” You whipped away a few tears that escaped your eyes. “And I will remind you every single day.”

“Yeah?” You smiled. “Every single day?” She giggled, kissing the back of your hand.

“You are stuck with me, baby. I sincerely apologize,” her eyes widened slightly. “Unless you want to get rid of me, then I would understand, but I would be sad.” You giggled. With a roll of your eyes, you moved to sit between her legs. She rested her head on your shoulder.

“I love you,” you whispered. She squeaked but covered the surprise noise with kisses on your neck.

“I love you too,” she softly spoke. In your apartment or hers or at the Avenger tower, with Kate’s arms around you, you were home.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop x y/n #hawkeye imagine #hawkeye one shot #kate bishop imagine #kate bishop #hawkeye x reader

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pyramis-family-official · 1 year

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(Okay, but Nezarec both speaks French and is a halfdemon, so now there is this scene playing in my mind)

Nezarec: *speaking French gibberish just to annoy Calus*

Calus: *wields a crucifix*

Nezarec: You do know that I'm a halfdemon, so that thing can actually burn me, right?

Calus: Then it's one more reason to stOP SPEAKING IN THAT CURSED LANGUAGE!

#plot twist: nez will teach calus french and he will learn to accept it #and savathûn will be indignant because she has been speaking french for year and never managed to convert him #what can i say: golden nightmares duo for the win #destiny 2 #pyramis family #nezarec #calus #disciple quintet #nezarec/calus #golden nightmares duo #nyctophobia duo #siblings dynamic #spanish #french #spanish calus #french nezarec #halfdemon #nezarec is a halfdemon

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dayslynthesix · 6 months

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let the games begin | charles leclerc redbull!era x horner!reader

what would happen if charles signs a contract with redbull after the disastrous season 2023 was with ferrari? would it be unfair with himself to let go of his dream or would it be a jump of faith that those dreams could became real with the competition? this one is more like a platonic relashionship between charles and isabella (i got this very bad habit that i cannot write with s/n anymore)

liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, izzyhaho, carlossainz55 and 677.876 others

f1 Charles Leclerc made his Ferrari debut in 2018, racing alongside with the 4 times champion of the world, Sebastian Vettel, now, finishing his 5th year with the Scuderia and far from the results that he wanted, he leaves the team. Charles raced 100 races with Ferrari, won 5 times, including his historical winning in Monza, 2019 and 28 poles. Very good luck, Charles.

maxverstappen1 let's hope for no more inchidents, on the race

redbullracing welcome to the team, charlie!

izzyhaho now that's what I'm talking about. hey, charles, hope you like me, because you're about to hear my voice on your ear fot the next 24 races haha

user1 ok hold on mom it's happening, charles is moving to redbull

user2 it was worth nothing to be il predestinado on a failure as a team, welcome home, leclerc

user3 now im anxious to see how ferrari will perform next year

user4 hope the santander sponsor is worthy

user5 IMAGINE CHARLES DRIVING THAT ROCKET IM ON 9TH CLOUD

charles_leclerc

liked by izzyhaho, arthur_leclerc, maxverstappen1, sebastianvettel and 988.325 others

charles_leclerc for 5 years this team and this car were my dream, i have won with ferrari and i have lost with them - many times, but i still had faith in the project, unfortunately, my dream was not enough to hold the love and the wishes i had with them. thank you all tifosi out there, for the indescribably suport and love you have showed me for the past years, it was my honour. my heart will always bleed ferrari red, but it is time to breath another air.

izzyhaho "another air" redbull air, competent team air, blue air, oversteering air, im about to faint, hold on

carlossainz55 best of luck, cabron!

landonorris well, i thought i would be the one who's gonna be max's teammate

redbullracing 💙💙

user6 you'll always be our man, Charlie

user7 i dont know if this is a dream or a nightmare

user18 nightmare was what was going on at ferrari

user8 lol it is actually happening

user9 will redbull do the multi 21 all over again or they will be free to fight?

user10 KICKING MY FEET NOW

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, izzyhaho, lewishamilton and 655.985 others

scuderiaferrari it is with a sad heart that we said goodbye to charles, it was amazing 5 years. il predestinado will forever be our maranello sun. thank you, charles. good luck on your next chapter.

charles_leclerc thank you so much!

izzyhaho your maranello sun is now our sun haha

user11 isabella is so chronically online that im dying to see her liked tweets tomorrow

user12 christian horner is right now opening his 56 thousands of dollas bootle of wine to drink a good glass of the most expensive wine ever because he got his dream driver line up

izzyhaho he is, in fact

maxverstappen1 he's been drinking a glass of wine per day since charles went for a "casual talk" with him

user13 wait, so this mean that max is not christian golden boy anymore?

maxverstappen1 you wish (im scared)

redbullracing

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, izzyhaho, arthur_leclerc and 698.655 others

redbullracing say hello to our new duo for the 2024 season, welcome home, charles, we are hoping to see you shine in navy blue. see you in march.

charles_leclerc thank you for the reception, i wasn't expecting the cake considering my birthday was a few weeks ago

maxverstappen1 why did you choose this photo, adm?

redbullracing mini boss who choose it

izzyhaho yes, i did, i thought it would be funny

user14 poor christian, if he thought his life was difficult with maxiel, now he have max, charles and his daughter around

izzyhaho oh he knows!

maxverstappen1 charles is still a little shy with the dinamics, but the prank week is on!

user15 im actually very happy with charles moving to redbull

user16 i wish i had good lawyers so i could say everything i want to say

user17 charles got a shitty car for 2 seasons and jumped the boat, never gonna be a world champion

izzyhaho at least he can drive a formula one car, something you could never 😜

user18 isabella was like "don't say shit about my new friend" and went for it

user19 so, we won on the lottery, i mean, charles is on a competitive team, have a nice car, have a nice race engineer and a team principal who looks for his best interests

user20 isabella is a race engineer?

izzyhaho noooo, im a physics student, but I'll work side by side with kai (charles engineer)

izzyhaho

liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, brazilgp, danielricciardo, landonorris and 655.918 others

izzyhaho ok, i was thinking about and ill give it a go: ask me questions about f1 and life and ill answer during my waiting time

user21 where are you going, iz?

izzyhaho I'm flying back to the uk, team meeting for the start of the season

user22 what exactly is your job at redbull?

izzyhaho i mean... almost everything? usually i stay with media duties, follow the drivers around, do the posts, stuff like that, but my thing is analyzing data and im the race engineers backup, i spend most part of the fp, qualy and race side by side with hannah

user23 who's your favorite driver?

izzyhaho jenson button, there's no other answer for it, but i really like lewis and seb

user24 where and what exactly is your degree?

izzyhaho im a physics student at the MIT, but im about to graduate early next year

maxverstappen1 what are your pets names?

izzyhaho very funny haha look how im laughing, but my dogs names are ascari, mirabel and mugham, 3 border collies

landonorris what happened in bali during the summer break?

izzyhaho you wish 🤭

user25 where do you live?

izzyhaho in boston, but after i graduate ill move back to europe, probably monaco or spain

user26 why do you spend so much time in brazil?

izzyhaho do i need a reason? lol, i like the country, the people, the culture, the food, the football... but most of it is just like, so i can feel close to senna, I've never saw him race, but my dad did, and i think he was amazing, especially as a person, so i like to feel close to the country and the people and the places who made him who he was, and i have friends there too

user27 fav sport?

izzyhaho tennis and volleyball, i love both and i have some very good friends who play booth

user28 how is like to work with your dad?

izzyhaho hey pops, do you want to answer this one? it is nice, we work along very well, we usually go for the same line of thinking when it comes to races and we have a very good relationship, and if max thinks he is my dad golden kid, he is absolutely right 😔

user29 did you never consider pursuing a driving career?

izzyhaho i did, for a while, i drove for formula 4 and formula 3 but then i realized that what i like is the theoretical part of business, but i hope to drive a f1 car at least once

user30 how is your relationship with charles?

izzyhaho 🤭🤭

user31 which are the drivers you are the closest with?

izzyhaho uhhhh... im very close with max, for obvious reasons, oscar and i are pretty friends as well, charles, zhou, lewis and george, but i got along with all of the grid

user32 what are you fav tswift songs, era and album?

izzyhaho AMAZING QUESTION! fav songs: seven, afterglow, all to well, lover and call it what you want. fav album: rep, obviously abd fav era: i love her red era

user33 expectations for the 2024 season?

izzyhaho win everything that we can possibly win

redbullracing

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, izzyhaho and 766.986 others

redbullracing it's lights out and away we go for the 2024 formula one season. 1-2 for the bulls on bahrein and a great start of the season for charles, congratulations on p2, lets aim for first next one, congratulations to max for winning the opening race of the season. let's goooooooo (mini boss said we need to look more happy)

maxverstappen1 well done, team

charles_leclerc great work, let's go for saudi aiming all 44 points

izzyhaho amazing job, as the usual

scuderiaferrari congratulations, Charles!

user34 can we take a moment to appreciate how well the car married with charles? it was like watching the old times again

user35 verstappen and leclerc fighting for p1 all the race, redbull doing double stacks 2 times, no inchidents... we'll about to testify the most dominant season a team could everrrrr be

user36 the way thar charles left the car and immediately went for the team and the team was there to congratulate him

user37 this duo... let's hope it doesn't turn a britcedes 2.0

redbullracing

liked by mercedesamgf1, pierregasly, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, izzyhaho and 766.098 others

redbullracing: jeddah, melbourne and suzuka front row lockout 🔒 congratulations on charles first pole and first victory for the team, well done! congrats to max for his second win of the season. see you soon shanghai.

maxverstappen1 let's do it again next week, can we?

charles_leclerc hey adm, could i please fire isabella from being my race engineer?

izzyhaho you are saying this now that you won 2 out of 4 races just because i got i little too happy and screamed for 3 laps on your ear?

maxverstappen1 she did it with me too

sebastianvettel i think she just didn't do it with me too because she wasn't at the paddock the first time i won, but the first world championship... i can still hear her

pierregasly lil charlie is all for the team

landonorris charles is like troy bolton

maxverstappen1 that would made me gabriella montez?

danielricciardo no.

izzyhaho max, delete this, daniel is about to storm into the facilities just to cry in front of you

charles_leclerc i don't want this blond as my gabriella montez

danielricciardo hey isabella, he's talking about you

user38 100% of victories for redbull so far... im scared

user39 the way that even though we know rbr is going to win the season is good because charles and max are fighting all the time

user40 we all knew that with a good car charlie would shine

user41 no more nightmares about a understeering car

user42 no one is going to talk how ferrari dnfed 2 races and only stayed on points on jeddah?

besthorneriz karma takes all my friends to the summit

redbullracing isabella, get out of your private account!

#formula 1 #charles leclerc #formula one imagine #formula one #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #ferrari #max verstappen #redbull era charles

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fuumiku · 1 month

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Chilcille huh... ngl I was a little suspicious. like why would you do that, huh... hope youre not mischaracterizing anyone in your weird and wacky ship. a little weird. but then you said they both had flat asses and you know what? I salute you and your perfect characterization

The fact you seem to think you managed to not make this ask insulting is baffling. What the hell. Fuck off.

If you actually care to be open minded about the ship, I talk about marchil on my sideblog 24/7. Funnily enough I’m currently 4k words deep into an analysis of their character arc together in canon, but that’ll take some more days to get done. Some notable posts:

Of course without counting the analyses of Chilchuck on his own I’ve made, like my masterpost on his family situation. Or better yet you could also read my fics for them, see how weird and wacky they are here.

Wanna talk about mischaracterisation? They’re literally a comedic duo who interacts 24/7. Marchil is crazy bc ppl are like "did those shipper read with their eyes CLOSED?? They have no chemistry!" Meanwhile canon is like: "She’s obsessed with knowing everything she can about him and she reads him like a book." In her eyes he’s like that extra rare and hard and shiny unlockable dating sim character, that brooding mysterious character trope that’s thrilling to crack open and typically is at the center of the plot. The wife roleplay???? "Hey, did you know his type is blondes. Hey did you know he likes his women pretty and blonde. Hey did you know he likes her hair. Hey did you know that he teases her 24/7 and it’s one of the few things that consistently gets him grinning because he finds her reactions cute." Like a schoolyard bully pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes.

It’s not like they have any thematic narratives or relevance. It’s not like she’ll live to 1000 and has existential dread about it while he’s logically gonna be her next friend to die at 50 and wether it’s romantic or platonic it’ll terrify her to lose him. It’s not like it’s fear of death x fear of rejection so they’re both obsessed with the thought of loss looming, past and ongoing. It’s not like it’s half-elf x half-foot and there’s an inherent journey that was and still is to dispel prejudices and truly come to see each other. It’s not like he’s painfully real and raw and flawed but still a good man, that he’s not the figure of prince charming that she’s always dreamed of while still being virtuous and worth fighting for. Or you know, her hair being golden and it being the epitome of beauty to him, and his hair turning silver and it being Marcille’s worst nightmare.

Just a weird wacky ship who means nothing but shallow things to people who have weirdo reasons for liking it. Like can you not. If you’re not imaginative enough to think of reasons why this ship may have an appealing dynamic that’s not my issue. But yes, yes, they’re both flat asses to me, thanks.

#Dungeon meshi #Ask #Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #Marcille donato #chilchuck tims #Marchil #You me the parking lot after i finish and post my arc analysis #Sobbing……… we’re 20 over here in the rarepair pit come on. Like do u not see how obsessed i am. Do u think they like. Mean nothing to me #Do u think it’s all incidental and i slipped and the 10 thousands of words I write for them had no thought or feelings behind them or #Their arc is so beautifuuuuul they come to see each other and her standards become more real while he allows hope and openness #Into his heart again 😭😭 not the way two of their scenes lowkey read as a proposal…#Anyways I hope this makes it clear I’ll fight to my dying breath for them.#I don’t want trouble and i imagine you don’t either so just don’t come shitting on my doorstep #In positive news my fic Grind Me Down Sweetly recently reached 100 likes and 1k hits <3 it can also be read as just platonic so if you like #Them as a duo even as friends give it a shot #Every time I see someone shitting on marchil I start making marchil content faster btw #Not art

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sapphickz · 24 days

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minsoul + danceracha

lee minho + lee minseo 𖤐 hoseo

aka: min siblings, minmin, biglittlemin, 민남여 (minnamyeo)

it goes without saying that all of the members collectively feel like an older brother to babyseo, however this one just so happens to actually be her brother (°▽°)

hoseo are basically the same person copied and pasted but the bigger one is cuter and the smaller one is scarier. it’s all backwards.

as siblings minho and minseo obviously bicker over trivial things as well as getting along extremely well but they tend to divert typical expectations with their undying outward support of one another. you will never catch these two bad-mouthing the other even as a joke.

don’t get them wrong, minseo will always be the very first to laugh at minho’s mistakes, but she is also the very first to compliment his bare face in the mornings. “the fairest of all the land has finally risen! would you like to make something yummy for breakfast?”

and as seo’s older bro/role model, minho takes great care in always making sure miso is happy and comfortable in every situation. he’s a bit of a helicopter mom in that sense.

minseo fully uses this trait to her advantage by this point. it’s usually just forcing him to make her a gourmet meal but she could ask him for a star from the sky, and he’d do it! after rolling his eyes of course.

nightmare (blunt rotation) duo. often gang up on the other members together simply for the fun of it.

also the only members to be able to tease the other and survive.

hwang hyunjin + lee minseo 𖤐 hyunseo

aka: jinmin, tom&jerry, the dramatic and the drama

100% transparency, at first these two had no idea how to talk to each other. it was very awkward, like two kids forcibly paired on a project together, and there were a lot of contributing factors to this fact.

firstly, at the time they met hyunjin thought she was the same age as him, which lead to his very stiff way of communicating at first. this in turn made minseo (2 years younger) totally off-put with the arms length she found herself at.

fortunately miso would later grit her teeth and bare the embarrassment to act a bit more sweet and cutesy toward hyunjin in order to warm him up, and that he did. after finding out she was actually not a scary girl his age but instead the real-life blueprint for kuromi there was nothing she could do to keep him away.

hyunjin has since grown to be the thorn in her side and truly lives for the thrill of disturbing her peace despite the threats hurled his way in retaliation. they never turn out to be true, anyway, minseo finds his antics too amusing.

as for miso’s torments, hyunjin is the only member she feels actually comfortable teasingly jokingly down to, like she knows she can call him a dongsaeng and live to tell the tale. one of her favorites is the simple “hyunjin-ah.”

and maybe it’s a pisces thing but hyune is the only member seo can’t help but simp for. she tries to hide the soft spot in her ‘cold, cold heart’ for him but the occasional “cute” will slip and the facade is destroyed.

since moving dorms minseo often calls hyunjin just to ask what he’s doing and say she misses him before hanging up.

and of course prince hwang always follows up these calls by inviting her to paint or go shopping the next day.

lee felix + lee minseo 𖤐 seolix

aka: lee kids, melody & kuromi, haedal (sunmoon)

the true gamer boys of the group; seolix. whatever you do, just don’t ask them about how long they played genshin last night.

with dangerous duality and voices that don’t match their appearance, felix and minseo are the sun and moon duo of stray kids, combining their opposition to illuminate the beauty in contrast.

^^ or you could just say that they’re the golden retriever/black cat combo of the group if you’re not into whimsy ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

felix is one of the members that minseo just can’t help but smile around even when he’s not really doing anything. just his presence alone is truly like happy vitamins.

and even though miso is typically seen as intimidating first and foremost, felix finds even the scary-looking minseo cute, especially when her gummy smile makes an appearance.

there’s also somewhat of a ‘monkey see monkey do’ phenomenon that occurs between these two. felix can’t do one (1) silly thing without minseo wanting to try it out.

on the other hand, felix is always trying to imitate miso’s cool and nonchalant demeanor, often repeating things she’s said or mirroring her ‘swag’ mannerisms (his words not mine.)

they’ve also arranged the agreement that felix will bake any treat she wishes as long as she gives him company for the time being. thankfully minseo is always willing to sit in a comfortable spot and laugh as long as she doesn’t have to participate in the cooking.

nowadays since they live in the same dorm seolix often go live together for a mukbang/secret excuse to talk about the newest game they’ve played together. babyseo stay eating well ✊🏻

#𖤐 minsoul #stray kids added member #stray kids addition #stray kids oc #stray kids 9th member #skz oc #kpop oc #kpop added member #kpop addition #fictional idol community

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mourningmaybells · 5 months

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Propaganda (more detailed in the original book)

Damien Karras: A first-generation Greek immigrant who had it rough growing up in the slums of New York City. Now in his 30s-40s, he's a Jesuit priest who is also a trained psychiatrist (he went through med school and became a doctor), and a Georgetown University professor. Supposedly he's the person you turn to for guidance, but he's been having issues lately. Now that he's no longer a Golden Gloves boxer, the thing he's fighting against is the growing despair that God isn't real, or at least entirely absent. Where was God when his mother was begging for money by the fountain? When his childhood dog Ginger died and he watched helplessly? When his mother was alone and despairing in a mental hospital until her death? Once he could see love in his vocation, but it's been obscured by humiliation, grief, and disappointment. He yearns for Christ as one yearns for an unseen lover.... that sounds like an exaggeration, but the comparison happens a few times.

A lot of missing pages in his past (why does he have facial scars? why did he quit boxing? is he gay?) that we don't get answers to. While we get to see him in private vulnerability, he's outwardly very emotionally guarded to the point that no one even knew to what extent he was suffering. How can he help people mentally and spiritually when he can't even help himself?

Would 70s Jigsaw look at him and say "he just needs a few minutes in the bathroom to figure himself out or possibly die"?

Chris MacNeil: Big shot American actress Chris Macneil was once an unknown Broadway chorus girl married to Howard Macneil, and had a 3-year old son Jamie Macneil. Due to medical complications, her son died, and when her new daughter Regan was born, her husband grew jealous of the attention the mother-daughter duo got from the press. They got a divorce, and Howard basically cut himself out of Regan's life completely. Chris is kind of (?) friends with her alcoholic and extremely hateable director Burke who kept calling her butler "a Nazi pig" while wasted. She's set to star in his film about a student protest and Regan gets the idea that they might be in love (they aren't). While she is a caring mother, some people (Howard) see her as unfit because she also became a successful career woman in the 70s. She was basically the feminist nightmare that conservatives had during the Sexual Revolution. God forbid women do anything. She's even an atheist in this catholic horror book.

Just so we're clear, she really does love her daughter, and believes in using medicine and doctors. It's just that the trauma of losing her son from a prescribed antibiotic that caused aplastic anemia led her to never fully trusting doctors (trusting Dr. Mark took years) and promising herself never to love anyone to the extent she loved her son and his father. It was too much of a heartbreak.

Her daughter loves her, puts a rose on her plate every day, but it doesn't stop Chris' self-doubt. It gets spat right back at her through her daughter's mouth and from a demon's influence.

Anyways, if Jigsaw was from the 70s would he "teach her a lesson" and put her through Horrors for what is perceived as a weakness?

please reblog for bigger sample size

#saw 2004 #saw #the exorcist 1973 #damien karras #chris macneil #john kramer #the exorcist by william peter blatty #polls #horror

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underscar · 7 months

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THE SCULPTURE & THE SCULPTOR

Pairing: Makima/Female Reader

Summary: The sun was slowly setting on a brisk evening, casting a golden-orange glow over the bustling streets. The air was crisp and cool, signalling the beginning of autumn, and the leaves on the trees had started to turn shades of auburn. You met her that fall evening, and fell in love that October. Warm sunlight elapsed your memories and your love story with Makima and it all felt like a dream, until it erupted into a nightmare. The phrase "separating the artist from the art" is one that dates back long ago. Both the art and the artist can be seen as their own entities; yet, the artist has the control and power to destroy that oeuvre.

CHAINSAW MAN MASTERLIST

A/N: finished this oneshot. was shorter then i expected it to be but that’s alright. as always, i’ve been occupied with school and work and volunteering and just…life.

WORD COUNT // 3209 words

The sun was slowly setting on a brisk evening, casting a golden-orange glow over the bustling streets. The air was crisp and cool, signaling the beginning of autumn, and the leaves on the trees had started to turn shades of auburn.

The streets were packed with people going about their daily business. Groups of students hurried home after their after-school activities and cram school, their backpacks slung over their shoulders and their uniforms crumpled from a long day of studying and play.

Workers in suits walked with purpose, their briefcases in hand, eager to catch the earliest subway home to their families. Their fatigue expressions spoke of long hours spent in the office, but they soldiered on, determined to make it home to their loved ones.

And amidst the sea of people were others, simply out to get their shopping done before the night fully set in. The bright lights of the shops and neon signs illuminated the streets, beckoning shoppers to come in and browse their wares.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the city transformed. The neon signs grew brighter, casting colorful shadows on the pavement. The streets became livelier, with people pouring out of restaurants and bars, ready to enjoy the night ahead. Despite the crowds and noise, there was a sense of peace and harmony in the air.

Tokyo was a city that never slept, but on this fall evening, it seemed to slow down just enough for everyone to take a moment to appreciate the beauty of the changing season.

The multiple chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling of the pet shop also casted a warm, golden glow over the store, giving it an almost magical quality.

The shop was located just a few blocks away from your apartment in the bustling city of Tokyo, and you often found yourself wandering in on lazy evenings to browse the various pet supplies and see the cute cats and dogs. The puppies specifically were your favorite.

Today, you found yourself standing in the soap aisle, surrounded by an array of colorful bottles and containers. You were looking for a special shampoo for your new puppy, a fluffy golden retriever that you had adopted a few weeks ago, disregarding your father's displeasure. The recent adoption makes your dog duo now a trio.

As you scanned the shelves, you noticed a woman with reddish hair knitted in a braid standing a few feet away, examining a bottle of dog shampoo. A brand you recognized. She was dressed in a stylish outfit, a suit that was as sleek as a cats coat, along with a trench coat that didn’t drown her form, yet instead curved it like a cape, all complete with a perfume that smelled so strong, like greek gardens in heaven.

“That brand is rather cheap,” you blurt out. The snobby words escaped your lips unnoticed.

She turned to you with a raised eyebrow, her expression conveying a mix of surprise. “Pardon me?”

You suddenly realized how snobby and rude your comment sounded, that you even spoke at all. You didn't even know this woman, and here you were, making assumptions about her shopping choices. Feeling embarrassed, you cover your face and you quickly tried to backtrack.

“Um - uh, well this is,” you stop yourself from stuttering and clear your throat. “I actually had to return it recently. Both of my retrievers had an…uh,” you lower your voice, “really bad skin infection after using the soup. I just would never recommend it.”

The woman's expression softened slightly, but she still looked a bit guarded. "I understand," she said coolly. “But just because a product is bad doesn’t typically relate to its affordability, does it not?”

You looked down at your purse, feeling shameful. “Ah, slip of the tongue. My apologies. I misspoke.”

As a child of affluent and politically influential parents, you were constantly surrounded by privilege and power. From the lavish parties and exotic vacations to the private schools and exclusive clubs, your life was a far cry from that of the average person. However, despite the obvious perks of your upbringing, you often found yourself feeling like an outsider, rather than fitting in with those around you.

Perhaps it was the fact that you stood out from the crowd with your designer clothes, expensive technology, and sleek cars. Or maybe it was the subtle differences in your upbringing that made you feel out of place, like the way your parents talked about politics over dinner, or the fact that they were always traveling to meet with world leaders and dignitaries. Whatever the reason, you worried that people saw you as snobby or spoiled, simply because of your background. And to be honest, there were times when you felt like those labels were justified, just like now.

The women smiled. “You’re cute.”

Your face instantly burned with embarrassment.

You weren't sure how to respond, and you wondered if she was flirting with you. You looked up shakily from your purse, your eyes then meeting hers. You gasped when you noticed her exotic eyes. They were a striking yellow color, with multiple red rings within them. For a moment, you were mesmerized by their beauty, forgetting your embarrassment and confusion, being hypnotized.

Nevertheless, as the woman's stare became apparent, you realized that you had no idea how to respond to her comment. You stammered out a few awkward words, trying to come up with an explanation for your sudden embarrassment, but nothing feasible came out.

She quirked her head. “Also slip of the tongue. Apologies.”

She then stuck out her hand to you. “I’m Makima. You?”

Your lip quivered as you spoke her name. “Makima…”

The moment you told her your name, you had become hers.

You embarked on your relationship the following October, and it was during that same month that you found yourself falling deeply in love accompanied by autumn weather.

“Moving fast in your relationship”—your father spat. He wasn’t wrong, but you were loving every moment and day under Makima.

You and Makima spent countless evenings together, her walking you down the vibrant streets of Tokyo, discovering hidden gems, and indulging in the city's rich culture. She effortlessly unveiled a side of the city that had eluded you in your privileged upbringing. Not only were the experiences enchanting, but it was Makima herself who drew you closer. Her magnetic aura captivated you from the moment you met. Makima's intelligence, wit, and care for dogs made you constantly crave her company. She destroyed your perspective, forced you to question your assumptions, and told you to embrace the beauty of imperfection.

As your relationship deepened, Makima entrusted you with a secret—she was a devil hunter. Although she didn't reveal the specifics of her career, you knew she held a high position and enjoyed the benefits that came with it, evident in her lifestyle and the numerous dogs under her care. She had a contract with a Devil, but she didn't disclose the details of this arrangement, nor did she want you to be involved in her dangerous work. Respectful of her wishes, you refrained from prying for more information.

Instead, Makima had you to stay at home and keep your relationship separate from her professional life. Since you had never worked before and your parents supported your financial needs, it seemed reasonable for you to take on the responsibility of caring for her pack of dog, along with your two, now in Makima's home. After all, she had generously moved you into her house. You willingly embraced this role and followed Makima's instructions, appreciating the opportunity to contribute in your own way while living under her roof.

Thus each day fell into a rhythm.

Mornings arrived with the stirrings of sunlight, coaxing you from slumber. Always when you woke up, you were alone. In the corner of your eye you would see the bathroom light on underneath the door, where you could hear water running. This signalling Makima getting dressed. She always woke up early before you could register her leaving the bed at all. In order to not disturb her, you would use the guest bathroom.

Then, afterwards, you’d go downstairs and start to prepare breakfast for you and the hoard of dogs, their wagging tails adding cheer to the steaming kitchen. Makima however never ate breakfast at home, despite her waking up early enough to eat, she always left for work without doing so. Subsequently, as plates were made, Makima would come downstairs, to the dogs and your excitement.

Makima, adorned in her immaculate devil hunter suit and trench-coat, would depart early for her duties, her presence exuding confidence and purpose. Before leaving, she would grace you with a tender farewell before sealing it with a kiss. "Be good," she would softly utter as she crossed the threshold. To whom those words were directed remained a mystery—once you pondered if they were intended for your exuberant four-legged friends gathered by the doorway or if, in a strange twist, they were meant for you?

Once Makima embarked on her work and you found yourself confined within the walls of her home, the hours stretching ahead, blank canvases awaiting strokes of purpose from the artist—you the canvas. Yet, a familiar pattern emerged as her absence settled in.

Thoughts, ceaseless and unrestrained, flooded your mind, overwhelming you, akin to a tumultuous storm brewing within. Pondering became second nature, almost synonymous with migraines. Your rumination meandered through various facets of you and Makima’s relationship, occasionally interrupted with words of your father.

Primarily, your thoughts gravitated towards Makima—inevitable, for love held you captive in this home. In her presence, the mental restlessness waned, and your mind found solace in the assurance she exuded. Thinking less was effortless when she was near, her mere existence a balm for your turbulent thoughts. She found your thoughts cute, thoughts worried so much for her sake.

Your relationship continued to winter, and winter was cold and bleak.

"I'm scared," you admit, your voice filled with trepidation.

The reality of Makima's career as a devil hunter was something that had taken a toll on you more than you had initially anticipated. At first, you had been intrigued by her strength and determination, admiring her for her ability to face the darkness of the world you lived in head-on. However, as time passed, you began to see the darker side of her world, and it started to affect you in ways I hadn't imagined. Death seemed to linger around Makima like a shadow, both in her professional and personal life.

The constant threat of powerful devils and dangerous missions weighed heavily on her shoulders, and that weight often spilled over into your relationship. The nights when she returned from a particularly gruelling battle, covered in blood and forsaken things, were nights filled with worry and fear from yourself. You couldn't help but imagine the worst and dread the possibility of losing her.

But it wasn't just the physical dangers that troubled you. No, it was the emotional toll of her work. The secrets she had to keep, the compromises she had to make, and the people she had to sacrifice for the greater good of her cause began to gnaw at your conscience. It amazed you how she kept herself so disciplined and stable despite it all. Work, with its constant demands and unpredictable hours, easily seeped into you and Makima’s home life.

There were nights when she would receive urgent phone calls, forcing her to abandon our plans, which she did with ease. Though you would lie if you said it did not leave you feeling neglected and alone. Alone constantly in this home, lost with your anxieties and thoughts.

Makima raises an eyebrow, her expression curious. "Oh. Scared of what, my dear?”

"I'm scared of…losing you, Makima," you confess, your words laced with vulnerability. "Lately, it feels like our relationship isn't a,” the fear of possibly offending her scared you more than anything, “uh, priority to you.” You used that word carefully.

Makima's gaze intensifies as she considers your words. "So, you believe I should reassess my priorities?” she asked. “And you think you’re a priority? Is that what you’re saying?”When she worded it like that you felt awful and belittled.

You stumble over your words. "I... I mean, we're dating, and... I just want to feel like we matter to each other.” You were sheepish, like a school girl.

Makima held her chin high, looking down at you through her long lashes. "Darling, don't be afraid to express yourself. If that's how you feel, I want to understand.”

You let out a shaky sigh, your voice filled with resignation. "I understand you're busy, Makima. I just don't… want you to stress yourself too much." You force yourself to say these words to please her and in a way, end this.

“Good. I’ll make sure not to.”

The winter winds howled and pounded against the windows, rattling the panes and sending shivers down your already tense spine. The room was bathed in the soft, flickering light of the fireplace, its crackling providing a comforting contrast to the harshness of the outside world and the void that was inside this distant home. The room was in a void of silence until Makima broke it.

"Look at me," she states, her eyes fixed on the book placed in her hands.

For some reason, despite your dismay, you do what she says easily and look into her eyes.

In the corner of your eye, you could see a flicker of understanding passing through Makima's eyes as she reaches out to gently touch your hand. "I hear you," she murmurs softly. "I may have been preoccupied, but I assure you, our relationship matters to me."

A glimmer of hope ignites within you as you meet her gaze fully. "Really?"

She nods, her expression sincere.

As you take in her words, a sense of reassurance washes over you. Perhaps, in this moment of honesty and vulnerability, you and Makima could strengthen your love. “I love you,” you say with no thought but with hope.

Before she could respond to your heartfelt declaration, a familiar tone chimed from her phone, interrupting the moment like a cruel déjà vu. You hold in a resigned sigh as Makima swiftly rose from her seat, reaching for her trench coat and draping around her, shielding her from the unforgiving cold that seemed to have no effect on her. It was a stark reminder that her duty called her away once more, leaving you alone and vulnerable to the haunting thoughts that seemed to shadow your every moment.

With the slam of the door, she disappeared into the night, and you watched her silhouette retreat into the darkness, a sense of loneliness creeping in. It was a feeling you had grown accustomed to, a feeling you had faintly hoped would change after the discussion you just had, a recurring ache that accompanied her absence. Once again, you found yourself left alone with your thoughts, the crackling fireplace the only company in this wintry night, its warmth unable to completely dispel the chill that had settled deep within you.

Whining, your pack of dogs circled around your dejected figure, their eyes filled with concern, their tails arched down, dejected.

As you sat there, alone, a whisper escaped your lips, barely audible, “I wonder…if I’ve made a mistake.”

Spring had arrived with its characteristics of humidity and warmth and the scent of freshly brewed coffee, but for you, it brought not the promise of new beginnings but the sting of heartbreak.

You had chosen this place for its cozy ambiance, hoping to find comfort in each other's presence. It had been so long since you both had went on a date, after all, Makima was dedicated to her work, and you spent your whole free time, home alone. But as the conversation grew heavier, the air around you seemed to thicken, and the pleasant background noise became a distant murmur.

Makima's words cut through the serene setting like a bolt of lightning. "Let's end things."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn't believe what you were hearing. The gentle clinking of coffee cups and the chatter of other patrons seemed to fade into the background. Your voice trembled as you choked out a bewildered, "What?"

Makima's expression remained cool and detached, as if the weight of her words held no emotion at all. "Yes," she repeated, her voice devoid of tenderness, she rubbed her chin, as if she hadn’t decided already, "we'll end this...relationship."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you held them back, not wanting to break down in the middle of the coffee shop. The woman you loved, who had once meant the world to you, now felt distant and unfeeling.

"Consider this a good deed on my part," she continued, her tone as indifferent as ever. "You were an obedient girlfriend, ______. Be proud."

As her words settled in, you felt a sense of betrayal and loss wash over you. The cozy coffee shop had transformed into a backdrop for your heartbreak, the world around you now irrelevant as you grappled with the end of a love that had once seemed unbreakable. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you couldn't contain the rush of emotions any longer. Your hand moved to cover your face, fingers trembling as you tried to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape. The coffee shop around you faded into the background as your grief and sorrow spilled into your trembling hand.

Makima watched you silently, sipping the dark coffee, her gaze unwavering but devoid of any warmth or remorse. In her eyes, this relationship had lost its worth, and she believed that ending it was an act of empathy, sparing you from the emotional decay that had started to seep into your life. Meeting Denji had changed everything for her, and you were left to bear the consequences.

To her, it was a good thing, a release for both of you, though for very different reasons. In her own way, she believed that you had gotten lucky, even if it didn't feel that way in the midst of your heartbreak. She saw it as an act of kindness, despite the undeniable manipulation and use of your emotions. In her eyes, this was her way of sparing you from further deterioration, even if it meant severing the connection that had once meant so much to you.

You knew, deep down, that you would recover from this heartache, that you would eventually find a way to live without Makima. But in that moment, as you wept in the coffee shop, it was hard to see beyond the pain and confusion that had come with the end of a love that had once consumed your heart.

© UNDERSCAR 2023 - All rights are reserved to underscar. Do not repost, copy, change/modify, plagiarize, translate or screenshot my work: this will also include not reposting my writing on other social media platforms and writing platforms.

#© UNDERSCAR #not proofread #makima x reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man x y/n #chainsaw man x you #chainsaw man x female reader #csm x fem reader #csm x y/n #csm x you #x female y/n #x fem!reader #makima x female reader

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