#but it was for reasons that was bothering me with the other....................

[nereidprinc3ss]

promiscuous

in which spencer reid doesn't like that flirty!reader is going on a date. he makes that known. (bandages universe)

flangst, 18+ for discussions of sex warnings/tags: gn!reader I think, mentions of going to a bar/going for drinks, very suppressed mutual pining, jealousy from Spencer, reader implied to engage in casual sex, reader calls themself a slut somewhat disparagingly but like as a joke, it all gets resolved, he is very sweet, he rambles when he's nervous a/n: oh God I love them so much they are like so in love and they literally have no idea at all because they're so dumb... but WE can tell.. turning point for them

“Penelope wanted me to confirm that you guys are coming to drinks with us tonight?”

It’s something of a standing tradition for the BAU on the last Friday of every month, and usually you’d agree, but tonight, you have other plans. 

“Raincheck for me,” you say, sliding some files into your bag which you do not plan on reviewing. “I have a thing.”

“What thing do you have on a Friday night?” Morgan asks skeptically. You don’t bother looking at him as you hide a smile. 

“A date, Morgan. You jealous?”

“You’re going on a date?”

You’d nearly forgotten Spencer was in the room until he spoke—he’s been in one of those quiet moods of his where he sort of floats around everyone else and makes himself insubstantial. As you cast him a sidelong glance, trying to figure out his tone of voice, you see he’s frowning. Nearly grimacing. His brows are drawn so tight you’re worried he’ll give himself a headache. 

“Uh, yeah. I am.” Suddenly, your parade feels a little rained on. 

“With who?”

You pause, looking back down at your desk with a new frown of your own and shaking your head as if you could clear it that way. “Just… some guy from OT.”

“Dalton?”

Ding ding ding. Somehow he got it right on the first guess, and for some reason, you wish he hadn’t. You don’t want Spencer knowing who you’re going on a date with. It feels wrong. 

“Does it matter?” You evade, shoving your things with a little more force into your bag. 

“Well Dalton is an idiot, so I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you’d go out with him.”

“And if it’s not Dalton?”

“Then I’d tell you all the guys in OT are idiots and you shouldn’t waste your time on any of them.”

“Alright—” Morgan passes between your desks, placing a friendly hand on your back as he does. “I’m gonna let you two hash this out by yourselves.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised, unsmiling, that means, go easy on the kid. It makes you feel terribly guilty. And more than a little defensive. 

“Night,” you call halfheartedly. He only waves as the glass doors swing shut behind him, leaving you and boy genius alone in the bull pen.

Silence falls, cloistering you as you finish packing up together. It seems to magnify the buzz of the overheads. You notice him intentionally lingering, and you sling your bag over your shoulder with a sigh. 

“Okay,” you say, turning to face him with your whole body. He seems uncomfortable with that, but you’re not letting this go. “What is this? Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” he mumbles, refusing to meet your eyes. “I just think—”

“Yeah. You’ve made your thoughts abundantly clear. I don’t know why you’re judging me for going on a date.”

“I’m not judging you! I just think you deserve better than a guy who looks like he… snorts protein powder for every meal and has less capacity for intelligent conversation than a mealworm.”

“Okay. Do you have someone in mind?”

The words come out a little sharper than you’d meant for them to. A little louder. Spencer looks like a scolded puppy as he swallows. 

“Not specifically. Just—someone more like you.”

He just doesn’t get it. You fold your jacket over your arm. 

“Yeah, well, until someone more like me comes along and asks me out, Dalton is the best I’ve got. I know he’s not my soulmate, Reid. But he asked me to drinks, and I said yes.”

The room is mostly dark. Only a few fluorescents remain on to cast Spencer in an almost clinical glow against a dark grey background. You’ve been here before. It feels like an interrogation. An environment where you’re practically begging for the truth without saying please, but there’s only room for measured dishonesty. 

Spencer speaks under his breath, fiddling with the strap of his own bag. “He’s not good enough for you.”

“What do you want me to do?” It’s an exasperated, confrontational sigh. Your arms raise and fall heavily back to your sides. Another long grey hallway of silence that leads nowhere. When it becomes clear he doesn’t have the answer, or he’s not comfortable sharing, you straighten. “I’ll see you Monday, Reid.”

Your spirits are completely dampened as you trudge to the elevators. What once seemed like an exciting opportunity now only serves as a depressing reminder that you’re wasting your time with a man who isn’t what you want. Maybe you should just call the whole thing off. 

“Wait,” Spencer calls, half-jogging to catch the open elevator. His bag bobs with every step, pens and things jingling around inside. It’s endearing, even though you’re upset with him. Your arms remain stubbornly crossed, but he makes it anyway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your mood.”

You laugh dryly. “Yeah, well…”

“It’s just that…” he sniffs and looks down, hair falling in front of his face. He really is sweet, even when he’s kind of a dick. He’s full of so much sincerity he doesn’t know what to do with it all. “I know how you are—you’re special, and funny, and intelligent, and, and Dalton—all those qualities are wasted on him. He looks at you and he just sees a pretty face. It may sound trite, but… he doesn’t deserve you.”

You sigh again, heart squeezing. The glowing light on the panel of floor numbers flickers. “I know your heart is in the right place, alright? But it’s not about who deserves me or who doesn’t. I’m not a prize. I’m a person, and people like to feel wanted. Sometimes, it’s just—it’s about who’s there, and who likes me enough to say it to my face. Sometimes that’s all I need, and I know you didn’t mean it like this, but when you say he doesn’t deserve me, it really seems like you’re not considering what I might want at all. Maybe Dalton is what I want.”

God—this elevator ride is like, comedically long. 

“Is he what you want?”

At least he has the bravery to ask. 

You glance over at Spencer, washed out bloodless and looking like he’s prepared to flinch, like he doesn’t know if he’s ready for the answer. The doors ding and slide open, and stale air whooshes from the chrome compartment into the lobby like a held breath finally exhaled. You swallow. 

“I don’t know why it matters to you.”

“Because you’re my friend and I want to see you happy,” he insists, trailing after you as you speed walk through the lobby. Every click of your heeled boots echos. 

“Then shouldn’t you be supporting me?”

“I’m not going to support you in making the wrong choice.”

The conversation spills out into the bitter-cold parking lot. You turn around to face him. 

“Respectfully, you have no idea what’s right or wrong for me. I don’t like whatever this is,” you say, gesturing with a finger between the two of you, as if the conflict were a tangible thing—a phone line hanging between your hearts. “I don’t know if it’s, like, jealousy, or some misplaced feeling of possessiveness, or protectiveness, or—”

“It’s not like that!” He splutters. 

“Okay—so what is it like? If you want to see me happy, why don’t you support me in pursuing the things that make me happy? And if that’s meaningless sex with some guy from operational tech, so be it! You are not in a position to give your two cents on who I sleep with!”

“I wasn’t trying to—I wasn’t even thinking about—about sex! I don’t care who you sleep with!”

He’s turning increasingly pink. 

“Fine. But if you weren’t thinking about sex, if you thought I was under any illusion that Dalton was going to be my fucking Prince Charming then clearly you’re not equipped to have this conversation. I know he’s an idiot. I’m not looking for my soulmate—thank you, though, for reminding me that it’s completely fucking pointless to even pretend. I love you, Spencer, but grow up. And stay out of my business.”

And with that, you’re turning on your heel and marching toward your car. Spencer calls your name—once. Twice. The wind lashes against your bare arms and stings your eyes as you fumble with your keys. 

It’s just the wind. 

Nothing else. 

-

Maybe you’re simply not meant for love. 

It’s a narcissistic thought in the sense that everyone has it at some point in their lives—everyone falls victim to the delusion that they are so uniquely wretched, so singularly incapable of being understood by another person. It’s the universal illusion of solitude. And you’d thought yourself above it for a long time. In college, there was fling after fling. Your bed was never empty if you didn’t want it to be. In your young adult life, you have other priorities—but you rarely have to be alone. 

Now, though, as you sit on a rickety metal stool deep in the bowels of the Bureau’s records room, banished to sort through files in search of one that had been mishandled during a cold case and is now supposedly relevant again, (although you’re not sure it actually exists) you’re pondering the nature of those connections you’d been so sure your life was full of. Were they all artificial? Designed by you subconsciously to manufacture a sense of complacent satisfaction? To stave off the aching, gnawing loneliness in your gut that you’re only now becoming aware of and has been eating you away in bigger and bigger bites since Friday night?

Morgan was supposed to be just as arm-deep into a box of dusty manila folders as you are now, but he talked his way out of it, and you’re sitting in an awkward twenty-minute-long-so-far silence with Spencer. Which isn’t helping anything. 

The tension comes and goes like the moon pulling the tides. It’s like you can sense it wafting off of each other—you feel it in the prickle on the back of your neck and the buzz in your stomach when he’s about to say something, and you glance over, and he’s already looking at you with his lips parted, and then he doesn’t say anything after all, and the silence reinforces itself. 

It gets frustrating. 

Not to mention this task is equal parts mind numbing and infuriating. Maybe Hotch just hates you. 

Eventually Spencer clears his throat, and you welcome the distraction. 

“What year are you on?”

You give him a long look which he doesn’t reciprocate, because you want to say, really? But eventually you pick up the edge of the box you’re sifting through and double check. 

“Uh… June 1979 through August 1979.”

He nods matter-of-facts. “They should be making us wear gloves.”

Your incoming tangent spidey senses are tingling. It’s not exactly an opportune time, but it’s better than silence. 

Plus—you’re pretty sure this is his idea of a peace offering. 

“Why’s that?” You mutter, flicking through yellowed papers. 

“Wood pulp paper contains an alum-rosin mixture to minimize ink bleeding, but in the presence of moisture such as that introduced in trace amounts by our fingertips it generates a diluted sulfuric acid solution. They didn’t start adding alkaline buffers into paper until 1986, and the cellulose chains that comprise the structure of the paper inevitably shorten and break down over time, so we’re actively degrading these documents by touching them without gloves.”

“Did you say sulfuric acid?”

“I said a diluted sulfuric acid solution,” he clarifies, utterly missing the point of your question as he so often does in that disarmingly endearing way of his. “Sorry, by the way.”

You look up from a photo of bloodied bell-bottom jeans. He’s caught you by surprise. 

“For what?”

“For—”

He struggles with the words—you watch his lips form a few silent ones before he gives up on the nonchalant act and sets his file on his lap. He can’t seem to tear his eyes from it, but you don’t mind. 

“For everything on Friday. I… I know it was none of my business. I sometimes struggle with… keeping my thoughts to myself. Especially when it concerns someone I care about. But I wasn’t judging you, I swear. What you said about—about sex, I—” he sighs, obviously frustrated with himself, and pushes a bit of hair out of his eyes. “That’s not where my mind was at, at all. Whatever you… do, or don’t do, is none of my business. Obviously. You don’t need me to tell you that. You don’t need me to tell you anything. I just really wanted to clarify that I wasn’t shaming you or judging you for—”

“Spencer,” you say gently, cutting him off and reeling him in before he can dig any deeper. 

“Yeah. Sorry.”

He glows under the canned lighting, a soft aura of white blurring the edges of him. The stale room buzzes. It’s otherwise quiet down here. Peaceful, almost. 

From anyone else, you might consider it overstepping. 

You wouldn’t have been willing to forgive them in the first place. 

But it’s not anyone else. 

“Thank you, for apologizing. I really appreciate it.”

He glances up at you, sort of hunched—always trying to make himself smaller than whatever force created him had intended. The deep brown of his eyes is melted and swirling and sweet and nervous. He’s not naturally good at these interpersonal things, but he’s always trying. He’s always pushing himself for you.

Do you ask too much? 

Do you offer enough in return?

Struck by sudden insecurity, you look away. Go back to your files. 

Perhaps you made a mountain out of a molehill and told him to climb it. 

“I mean, I am kind of a slut. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking so,” you laugh airily. “Maybe it was a good reality check.”

A trailing silence. An air conditioner kicks on. 

“What? That’s not—that’s not at all what I was trying to say.”

“Spencer, it’s fine.”

His stool squeaks as he sits up straighter. 

“No, I really want you to understand. Even if I cared or thought about how many people you might sleep with—which I don’t—and even if I determined that you were… sexually promiscuous, I wouldn’t assign a moral value to that judgement. Sexual promiscuity is observed all the time in the animal kingdom, it’s biologically sound and justified and in less misogynistic cultures where bonds forged between humans weren’t socioeconomic arrangements dependent on women being viewed as commodities first and foremost, it’s completely unremarkable. But I haven’t made that determination. All I know is that… you’re you. And that’s all that’s ever going to matter to me.”

Silence falls. Your voice gets stuck in your throat. 

How does he so casually show you more kindness than anyone else has ever managed to show you in your life?

Spencer takes pity on you. 

“And… we’ve talked entirely too much about something that’s none of my business today.”

It’s wry and earns a chuckle from you. Even Spencer manages a chagrined smile. That same strand of hair falls loose as he looks down. Light bounces from his self-effacing smirk. 

You fiddle absentmindedly with the fraying corner of a folder, and you’re about to open your mouth, about to speak into the sparkling cloud that the easy laughter and the melted tension has left in its wake, and tell him how much you appreciate him and how kind he truly is and undoubtedly whatever you say will be made more beautiful because of it—because of the affection you have for each other—and then you stop, eyes catching on the case file between your fingers. You frown. 

“Wait—what’s the case number we’re looking for?”

“91 18 00063 7.”

You hold the file up, eyes alight. 

“I found it.”

Spencer frowns and takes it without asking. You watch as he reviews the number in tiny black typeface along the top of the document. His brow scrunches in disbelief. 

“I genuinely didn’t think we were ever going to find it,” he murmurs after leading through the photos and glances back up at you. “We had thirty years of boxes to look through and you found it in under an hour. You’re like magic.”

It’s impossible not to smile. You feel all warm and sparkly as you snatch it back from him and stand, straightening your jacket. 

“Will you tell that to Hotch?”

“I… will tell anyone who will listen,” he assures you, and you’re confident he’s following as you make your way through the maze of stacks. “Are we not gonna clean up our mess?”

“There are people who will take care of that later.”

“Yeah. Like me. During my lunch break.”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to be well rewarded for your efforts today.”

“What does that mean?” He mumbles, and you can practically hear his blush. 

You smile to yourself. 

Still got it. 

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

[taddymason]

I know these two shows have nothing to do with each other but I hate so much the argument that "Jay couldn't continue being an inventor because there were too many characters with that role", when in shows like arcane you have like 4+ inventor characters and they all feel like special in what they do. Just make him a mad scientist and I'll be happy

[hottakehoulihan]

Hey, you're like me! I go by Houlihan but you can call me "hey you!" if you're talking to me and I see no reason for you to talk about me with other people really so there's no need to remember my name

and I actively encourage you not to bother remembering my name and saving that space for cool facts about stuff that we can talk about.

if somebody you knew for a year said "listen. im just gonna be honest here. i know ive known you too long to not know your name. but i simply do not. i dont know how this happened. im reasonably confident you told me your name at some point. could you remind me please" how would you react

[maybefae]

How do others perceive you?

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Tips!

Pile 1

Tarot: Page of Cups, The World (Life on Earth), Queen of Cups, The Hermit (The Cosmic Tree), The Chariot (The Spirit Plane), Page of Wands, The Star (The Veil), Four of Wands, Death (Past Lives), Wheel of Fortune (Life Map)

There is an air of being from the energy of the Earth itself. Not necessarily in a grounded way but in a more light way. People definitely think you have a beautiful smile and you have a laugh that almost sounds like bells ringing. I don’t remember if there’s a scene like that in the Tinker Bell movie or if her voice/laugh sounds like bells, but that’s a message. 

They think you’re really connected to Earth, to the energies that be, and that’s something maybe you don’t even notice about yourself. Since I’ve pulled the cards, I had a feeling of “they don’t even believe it” even when they were telling me all these lovely things. This feeling is something I wish for you to feel, and you can! Especially since it’s your energy. 

There is a feeling of familiarity with you. You flitter in and out of people's lives for brief moments, and if you believe in past lives (since energy is continuously recycled), you probably have met a lot of the people you come in contact with in lives before this one. There’s a safety, like stopping by a fire on a long journey. Strangers may get reminded of loved ones when they meet you. 

They see you as a healer. And this may be something you notice about yourself actually. You may get tired easily because it seems like you have to help people all the time or people ask a lot of you. And I do wish you returned this energy to yourself, even if it’s for a small time in the day. Set boundaries. This could also be a reason why you filter in and out of connections with people. 

I also wanna add that this deck was really excited and wanted to be the first in line. People are probably really excited to see you and talk to you. You may have a really bubbly energy and like being a social butterfly. You may also be the subject of friendship crushes, like people really wanna become friends with you.

Pile 2

WARNING: This pile was more on the “negative” side. If negative readings aren’t for you, I would suggest not reading this one.

Tarot: Three of Wands, King of Wands, Queen of Swords, Two of Wands, Eight of Swords, Five of Swords, The Star, Seven of Cups, The Magician

Before I even pull cards, there is an air of seduction. It’s like I made eye contact with a feline in the wild or a snake just slithered in. A large portion of the deck was in my hands but the other half was stuck in the box and fell onto my desk very noisily. You probably don’t give a lot of tells right away and it takes a lot of time for you to show your other self. The air of mystery is what makes you seductive; people want to figure you out. And, from experience, this could drive you absolutely insane because once they figure you out, they leave.

I’m going to be honest, I think a lot of people perceive you as “bitchy.” It could honestly just be because your stubborn and you know what you want, you go for it, and achieve it. A lot of men see you as a threat just because of your strong personality. In some ways, you could be seen as selfish because you won’t bother looking from someone else’s view. If you are an ex-people pleaser, this could be an absolute compliment. You know your worth and you want to achieve your dreams, people being threatened by it are none of your business.

If you are actively being selfish and not bothering to have empathy, well…I would do some self reflection.

Something about this pile seems so angry? There’s an aggression about this reading. Some people could take you as someone that constantly feel like you have to defend yourself, in an angry way, or you’re someone that has a hard time taking accountability. 

I’m getting Kat from 10 Things I Hate About You, “Planet Look At Me, Look At Me.” Some people think you have to be the center of attention. They acknowledge that you definitely can get whatever you set your mind to, but they might not think you deserve it.

There is an air of being very misunderstood, my loves. For the people that don’t mean to come off this way, I feel like you have probably gone through a lot in the past. You’re defensive due to past hurt. You honestly may not even love yourselves and it comes off as anger to others. I couldn’t move on to Pile 3 because I kept over thinking. You may feel really bad with how you react…There’s heartache. I wanted to come back since I felt the need to hug you all. For readers (and you don’t even have to like this series or author), but you give me Nesta vibes (iykyk).  

Pile 3

Tarot: The World, Three of Swords, Five of Cups, Seven of Swords, Page of Swords, The Hermit, Knight of Pentacles, King of Cups, The Star, Ten of Cups

Ah, this is my melancholic pile. People see you guys as troubled, wounded from your past. You are well loved! But I think you have a hard time accepting it or you don’t see it. There is a feeling of always having to fight, sword raised, but you are very tired from battle. I’m getting the image of a knight falling to their knees after a battle is over, some with their heads looking up at the cloudy sky and others with their heads lowered. 

There had been a painful heartbreak where you went into hermit mode. You turned into yourself so you don’t get hurt again. It’s not that you aren’t friendly! But you certainly keep everyone at arms length. You’re constantly looking at the past, at the empty cups, at what you don’t have anymore…I don’t even think you’d even see new and beautiful things and people that will come into your life. You could, unfortunately, have had things pass by you without realizing. 

You are ones to focus on the material world. I don’t necessarily see back-breaking work, but enough to get by. You’re numb and can only exert as much energy as you can. You don’t have any battles with others, more of the battles come from yourself. You beat yourself up. But you don’t realize the potential you have.

There is an older man here. A wise man. This could be someone in your life or someone who has passed…he watched over you. He has so much love for you and it pains him to see the turmoil you cause yourself. He wishes to share the burden with you. He wants you to talk to him and seek his comfort. And honestly, he could offer you very good guidance/advice. 

Decks Used: Ophida Rosa Tarot by Leila and Olive, Ethereal Visions Illuminated Tarot Deck by Matt Hughes, White Numen Tarot: A Sacred Animal Tarot Deck by AlbaBG

Dividers: @inklore

[cadaveerie]

cw: child abuse and non-sexual grooming

VEILGUARD SPOILERS (from lucanis' writing, a mission towards the ending and a little general)

About Lucanis and the Antivan Crows...

after finishing datv, I can finally say for sure that despite the fact that i find this game was overall fine, there are several things about it that have disappointed me. one of those things is about lucanis (and it's not even the only thing about lucanis that bothers me, but we'll leave that discussion for another time, because there's a lot to say about the writing).

in this game, Caterina Dellamorte (lucanis and illario's grandmother) is portrayed as a woman that's cold and demanding. not particularly nice, lucanis fully acknowledges that she's not exactly the loving type, and it's easy to assume things about her and about their relationship based on that... but for some reason it's never addressed that she abused lucanis when he was a child, by beating him and starving him. this is something that you can read in lucanis' story in tevinter nights, the wigmaker job, which was lucanis' introduction.

"Memories of sweat-filled days without food or water came unbidden Lucanis’s back tingled from where his grandmother’s cane had bruised his flesh for letting his guard down or fumbling his footwork. For years, he’d hated her. But his time as a Master taught Lucanis that Caterina’s cruelty was her way he was prepared for this life—that he survived."

I was waiting to finish the game before I said it, because I expected him to mention at some point but... no, nothing. I don't know if there's anything in a codex or something specific I missed, but even if that's the case, I expected it to be significant at all. it wasn't.

i'm not even going to get into what lucanis should feel about this. before the game came out i talked about some of my hopes for him based on the info we had about him, and imo there was not even half of that level of depth to his character. but i wouldnt have minded if the game went in another direction, or if lucanis simply just wasnt open to discuss it, or if he came to the conclusion that it was fine. i won't get into how "problematic" thinking that is, because i could understand that he tells himself that, and as a fucking assassin, i understand that he's come to terms with it because otherwise he probably wouldnt have survived in such a dangerous enviroment. i won't get into it bc as i said, i can understand it. my problem is that lucanis never says it. he never tells rook or anyone else that caterina abused him, or that the crows overall are very abusive and that they do this to children and break their minds basically in order to become emotionless living weapons. and if this is said in any banter, then i missed it in my 91h of gameplay, and i had lucanis in my party every single time we went outside. or it might be in a codex entry, idk. the point is that even if that's the case, that's not a great way to tell this info, especially when in the story theres no other way to learn anything like this about the crows. ppl that i talked to that didnt read tevinter nights didnt know this fact abt caterina and lucanis' past, they simply didnt cause how could they. I just wanted to say this because I think it's important to know if you like lucanis, or the antivan crows, and it's never even actually implied.

I also have many other issues with his writing, but the antivan crows are unfortunately also whitewashed. at least if you've played dragon age origins you know this, but our first antivan crow companion, zevran, talks about how he was taken as a child by the antivan crows. how he was literally bought by them as an orphan, and forced to become an assassin, and when he tries to flee, they attempt to murder him throughout the game. he even talks about how apparently some crows even made their members go through blood magic rituals to acquire abilities (SOUND FAMILIAR? IT'S LITERALLY WHAT ZARA DOES TO LUCANIS, ISN'T IT. HOW FUCKED UP). i think it's so disrespectful to dragon age's worldbuilding and so appalling that they simply... ignored all of this. I'm very upset that this was completely whitewashed. i wont get into it, but i assume they didn't show the crows being awful because, well... they have to be the good alternative for government in antiva. the bad guys are the antaam, and that's it. but one of the things i always loved about dragon age is how they treat these sort of political things. as i said, in origins the crows were more of an antagonistic figure, but at least it made them feel more real and serious. and people loved the crows like they were, fucked up assassins. in this game... idk, am i supposed to believe the assassin guys are nice? why hide the ugly? of course it's gonna be there, and it's ok. irl it happens a lot that oppressed people have to rely on groups that are less than ideal for their liberation, and a lot of times citizens are kinda ok w it bc no one else will stand up for them, so they have to work w what they have, and they're just relieved theres someone there for them. and it also shows that people are not perfect victims. if you're putting ppl in a corner, at some point ppl are rarely gonna care about being "good", and it's only human. and im not even gonna get into being an antivan crow rook because... sigh, it's more of the same. just disappointing. rook even mentions that theyre an orphan. and im pretty sure in the final mission about treviso, at least if you helped jacobus, he is like "i'll take in orphans and give them a chance". oh man, yeah. cool. please tell me how you'll raise them to be, im so curious to see how you won't groom children and abuse them into becoming mindless cold soldiers. that's fucking insane. this feels like fucking US army levels of propaganda and grooming. i love when we normalize child soldiers that's so fucking awesome i love this "woke" game when it's pro-military and anti-fucking-questioning-anything-a-military-force-does.

i even wondered if all of this has been retconned or simply ignored. i dont have a problem w retconning overall, and it's only natural it would happen in a franchise that's as old as DA, but the thing is... why would you do it. it literally just makes them flatter, it doesn't make any fucking sense.

so yes. im VERY disappointed in this game and the writing. this is one of the many things in the writing that disappointed me. the antivan crows are an organization that bring hope, and im perfectly fine with them being portrayed as "saviors", but im not ok with them conveniently not addressing any of their very bad issues. it's unrealistic. it's disrespectful to our intelligence, to dragon age fans and to dragon age origins. it's disrespectful to characters like zevran, who got into an insane war with them for a fucking reason. it's disrespectful to every antivan crow character to be honest. and im sorry, i dont even think this is insane to ask from them. like.... im literally just asking for consistency. they had it already, i dont understand why they did this. i had faith in them, but perhaps that's on me. im so heartbroken.

and i promise i actually think the game overall is ok. it was fun. definitely one of my least favorite games, if not my least favorite, but still. i appreciate it, and LOVED. LOVEEED some scenes. in fact, it might have at the very least one of my favorite scenes from the whole franchise. i think this game has very low points, and very high points, so it's hard to say what i think about it in few words.... but there are so many things like this in the writing, and it's just SO upsetting and disrespectful. im sorry. im truly sorry, you don't know how much i wanted to love this game and the writing. you have no idea. but i have self respect, and i don't lie to myself when i see something i dont like. it feels like they're whitewashing the crows cause we'd be too stupid to understand complex political issues. i thought this game was mature and could handle mature themes, but it doesnt seem like it's the case anymore. perhaps bioware is dead. i still want to believe they can come back from this but......... the post credit scene doesnt reassure me AT ALL. sigh. im just upset and sad. and as i said, this is only one of my many issues. i'll talk about the rest in the future, but im writing all of it down and i need time for that. i hope you understand that this comes from a place of genuine love. sorry i can't be happy about this game, but some of the stuff i see just ruins the rest for me.

edit: someone told me that apparently theres a banter when you go to dellamorte's villa and lucanis *implies* that he was beat by his grandmother (at least to another antivan crow rook). this whole post still stands though. i think that should have not been a banter that i (and im sure others) missed. and again, it also ties to how i think the crows as an organization and their methods were whitewashed. even if it's not particularly a lucanis problem, it could have been to some extent addressed by him.

[eroticcannibal]

It's still a minority view (plenty of varied viewpoints do get conflated with those things though, by people who have also grown up with the criticism of men = man hate line and internalised it in the other direction). It's still heavily exagruated by bad actors. Have you not actually talked to these people? Have you not looked at what they feel is man hate? Have you seen the examples the radicalised will list? Evil radfems saying all men are scum on twitter is a *tiny* fraction of what they feel attacked by and is almost never what they feel *most* attacked by.

I saw an intelligent, reasonable, compassionate, previously explicitly feminist man become *violently* (and I do mean violently, I was the target) antifeminist overnight because I expressed on Facebook I was having a trauma response (wariness of men) after an assault. And you know what else? Not a single man in that room defended me from *actual violence* because to them, fear looked like hate. Anything that made them uncomfortable looked like hate. This was during a time where publically discussing online your experiences with sexual assault was first becoming a Big Thing, the original #MeToo (interesting that it had to happen twice), and there really wasn't anyone going all men evil, just all men can be scary because we don't know who will hurt us. There was SO MUCH EFFORT to add nuance to the discussion, to let men know hey! We aren't saying *youre* bad! And they would not listen. Why? Because they'd rather listen to other men saying we are man hating feminists who are calling them all rapists even when we explicitly say the opposite! And that got me assaulted by a friend. The same shit fucking led to elevatorgate ffs. How dare a woman say she is uncomfortable, that's man hate, ignore all evidence to the contrary.

And yknow I did see an uptick in *performative* man hate at the time, but it was purely reactionary and it was a *test* (and a lot of current supposed "man hate" is still a relic of this era). Since you can make clear you don't hate men all you want and they will still say you do, "yes all men" became a sort of password. If you could here that without being a little bitch about it, if you knew the context because you actually bothered to listen, then you were cool. You knew no one actually meant that because you bothered to listen to them instead of people lying for political gain.

This is a tactic that has been going on since *before feminism even existed* and it is effective! It relies more upon the constructed belief that feminism is anti man which has become very well established over the years than it does the actual behaviour of feminists. I would strongly encourage you to look at anti-feminist sentiment throughout and predating the history of feminism (starting with the votes for women movement, that's the earliest I am personally aware of, there may be earlier examples) and see how we got to this point. Convincing every feminist to never again say "men are evil" will not create any change. (Which is not to say people *should* do it, but just that it's not the true root of this kind of radicalisation). Actual examples of it are *convenient* but not necessary for this tactic.

I would never *entirely* discredit the viewpoints of someone who has escaped cults and cult tactic using groups (I've been through that, I get it), but I would encourage caution with how much you trust the narrative of the *whys* from someone who has escaped. Leaving is quicker than undoing the thinking, and I really do believe that user isn't quite there yet. Best case scenario, that user is right about *them*, but it is not correct of radicalised men in general.

Because you can be as gentle as you like to these people getting radicalised, you can have all the nuance in the world, you could make it so that no one, not even as a joke, says anything about hating men, and you know what will happen? Just like has always happened, they will listen to who they want to listen to. They will listen to the people promising them superiority, they will listen to the people giving them a reason for their economic suffering (we must remember how much economics plays into radicalisation), that reason being evil feminists. They will see the man hate regardless of if it is there or not. Because they have been told to. Because it is convenient for them. And even if you convince them that we don't hate *men*, now you've got to convince them we don't hate them for being *white*. The point is not the hate they perceive but the superiority they seek and the power they desperately want.

Radicalisation and cult tactics do not rely on facts.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[hannieehaee]

Svt telling their s/o they’re tired of them? Angst to fluff pls

telling their s/o they're tired of them

content: established relationship, mentions of arguments, angst to fluff, fighting, making up, etc.

wc: 1706

a/n: i wrote this incredibly dramatic for no reason lol i hope u enjoy though!!

masterlist

seungcheol -

it'd be done in the heat of the moment. he wouldn't mean it, but he'd say it specifically with the intention of hurting you, which he'd realize in the moment but would regret the moment you walked away with a huff. he'd have to sit on it for a while ruminating on what happened. it'd take him a while to actually go to you to apologize due to his stubbornness, but he'd eventually realize how badly he fucked up when his messages began to go unanswered.

after a while, he'd literally just have to push his pride aside completely in order to apologize. he'd realize the error of his ways and be honest in the fact that he didn't mean it and was just being petty and vindictive. would understand if you needed some time apart or if he'd damaged your trust. he'd realize the error of his stubbornness after this incident.

jeonghan -

it'd be said in a moment where too many things are bothering him, just constantly jamming into his mind and adding more and more problems into his life and driving him insane. you'd interrupt him in one of these instances, causing him to snap at you and immediately regret it when your face fell, completely unexpecting of your sweet hannie to speak like that to you.

he'd drop whatever he was doing the moment he realized what he'd said and cry and coo at you as he apologized, insulting himself over and over about what a bad boyfriend he was being and how horrible he was for speaking to you like that. would encourage you to be mean to him in return, getting you to laugh at his insistence.

joshua -

it was said in a petty, bitter way. he wanted to chase you away for a bit, but not too terribly. this was enough to just get your lip to quiver a little, but he'd regret it immediately. whatever anger or frustration that was in him would leave him the moment the words left his mouth. he only said it so he could be left alone for a moment, but he didn't think he'd genuinely hurt your feelings.

you wouldn't really be able to react before he began apologizing, reassuring you that he was an idiot and could never be tired of you. he'd pout and whine and maybe make it into a lighthearted thing to avoid things escalating. would promise to make it up to you.

jun -

he'd be stammering apologies the moment the biting words left him. you wouldn't even get to react before he went to try and fail to explain himself. he'd know that if it were the other way around, he'd be heartbroken by his s/o telling him they're tired of him. because, really, how could he say that to you? he's not tired of you. he could never be! he wants you all the time, even if you're fighting.

he'd say all these things to you in the form of a ramble, literally unable to stop until you interrupt him. he'd be so innocently apologetic and regretful that it'd be impossible to not kiss and make up.

soonyoung -

he's been said to be kind of scary when angry, so this would be said in the heat of the moment. maybe you'd had a terrible argument and that was just the last thing he'd said, stubbornly wanting to get the last word in. he'd be too stubborn at first to allow himself to admit that he'd been petty and that he'd genuinely hurt you for no reason.

when it finally dawned on him, he'd grovel endlessly, already crying when he went to approach you to apologize. it'd be hard and it'd be painful for him to apologize, but he still would feel the need to do so. he's a sensitive guy, so he understands what it's like to be hurt by someone's words. would promise to never fight again, and specially to never deliberately try to hurt you through his petty words.

wonwoo -

it is very hard for me to imagine him saying something like this, but if he ever did, it'd have some context behind it. not just a mere 'i'm tired of you' but instead something like 'i'm tired of you doing/saying x thing'. he'd still hurt your feelings, but nowhere in his mind would he have thought that that'd be the effect of his words.

he'd be the type to sit you down and want to talk about it further. he would apologize and open a conversation about what he meant by his words and how he'd never say anything to deliberately hurt you. he'd also be genuinely sad at the thought of his words doing any type of damage to you.

jihoon -

he'd just mutter it under his breath without realizing, much less noticing that you heard him. you'd been insisting he takes a break and trying to get him out of his studio for a bit when he'd said it. he'd be so immersed in his work that he literally would not notice that you left with a huff. it'd only be until hours later when he noticed he wasn't getting your usual text messages throughout the day that he'd realize something was off.

coming home, that's when he would have the epiphany. the air would be cold and your mood would clearly match the atmosphere. he'd go to you with his tail between his legs, having to grovel and make lots of promises about how he'd never disregard and offend you like that. he'd take this as a lesson to himself.

seokmin -

nope sorry i just cannot imagine him doing this ever lol

mingyu -

the only way i imagine this happening is it he's dealing with an imaginable amount of stuff on his plate and he's already had a few people snapping at him already so he accidentally dished it out on you when you caught him just at the worst moment.

his reaction to what he said would depend on your own reaction. if you were angry and stormed off, he'd curse at himself and let you cool off on your own before apologizing. if you cried or looked hurt, he'd gruel and even go as far as getting on his knees to apologize, telling you that what he said was not aimed at you but it just came out bc you were closest and that he'd never mean to disrespect you like that.

minghao -

he's usually pretty zen and in touch with his emotions so him snapping at you and telling you he's tired of you would just be all the more dramatic. i don't think he'd ever say it with the intention of hurting you but more so because of built up frustration. he'd immediately realize his mistake, though and know he'd need to apologize as soon as possible.

if you walked off, he'd let you leave to cool off and sit you down later to formally communicate and apologize, but if you reacted more sad than mad, he'd stare at you agape at his own snarky comment before shaking himself out of it and hugging you, ensuring you he's not tired of you and that he was completely out of line.

seungkwan -

he's a very emotional person, and maybe sometimes that gets the best of him. he always treats all his loved ones with the biggest of affections, but just like anyone else, sometimes things get too much and might make him snap at the wrong people. or at least that's what he told himself in order to make himself better at the dejected look on your face when he suddenly snapped at you. you'd interrupted him as he tried to manage some work stuff, but the fault was all his.

he'd grovel on his own for a while, scared to face you because he'd never expected himself to snap at you like that and didn't know how to move forward. he knew he'd have to apologize to you, but he felt like he didn't deserve to speak to you until you decided it was time. however, he'd have to man up eventually and go to you. he'd approach you with his tail between his legs, mumbling apologies. when you heard him out and accepted his apology (after lots of hugs and groveling), he'd be so thankful.

vernon -

he's usually such a laid back person, but sometimes things just got too much and he'd find himself more stressed than usual. it would just be unfortunate that you'd catch him at the perfectly wrong time, earning a frustrated 'don't bother me right now, i'm tired of you' that'd have your face falling in a way he'd never seen before. when you walked away without saying anything, ignoring him when he tried to stop you, he'd know he fucked up.

he knew you needed time on your own, but he'd still try to be around you as much as he could throughout the day. he wouldn't be able to focus on anything else, looking to you like a sick puppy until you snapped at him and told him to just say whatever he wanted to say. that's when the stammered apologies would come in. he'd admit complete fault, telling you it wasnt your fault that stress got the better of him. you'd have a very productive conversation about it and make up within the day.

chan -

it'd happen so suddenly and unexpectedly he'd even shock himself in having said it. he can have a bit of an attitude sometimes, but he'd never actually say something so hurtful to you. your fights never involved any insults or purposely hurtful words. this would be a rare moment, shocking the two of you.

when you immediately stormed out, hurt and angry, he'd understand. he'd be too scared to deal with it all day, so he'd let you cool down on your own, but really it'd be only out of fear of you getting even angrier at him. he'd have to grow some balls in order to actually come to you and apologize. it'd be full of grueling and regret, with chan terrified he might've disrespected you too far for forgiveness.

[mxzero]

DULLED HIM

Synopsis: Zoro found it difficult to detest you any longer

Count: 3003 wrds

a/n . . slightly rushed ending due to motivation loss?

He didn’t like you.

The very moment Luffy deemed you one of the crew, it took core strength not to make a fuss about it. As much of a fool he could be, a Captain’s decision would always be final. Still, that didn’t mean he had to like you. Zoro failed to perceive what you brought to the table, what made you useful other than your place as another bland decoration on the Sunny when he walked by. If he paid much attention, he’d see your effort—perhaps if he squinted hard enough. Your existence was but a bother, and overtime, he’d gotten sick of saving your hide in the midst of a fight all because you couldn’t sense the enemy’s approach quick enough. 

Zoro resisted complaining, as it’d ruin his image. The great swordsman, destined to be the best of all time, complaining over a crewmate that couldn’t even hold a sword correctly? Foolishness. He’d covered Nami and Usopp’s asses on days end, and you'd have to be no different. Of course, there were various aspects of you that he couldn't ignore completely. Like your captivating smile that tended to rival Luffy’s when you were happy enough. 

..Not that he glanced at your face long enough to view it. No, not at all. 

You'd prove to be a liability in no time. Then they'll see. They'll all see how much of an extra, useless weight you were to carry. Alas, it appeared the swordsman was incorrect himself, and for once, doubted his judgment. 

“Roronoa!”

“Hah?”

Zoro had taken it upon himself to venture into the green depths of the island’s forest, departing from the docked Sunny with little to no awareness of his surroundings. Had he stayed put to listen, he would've known a sheet of frigid snow would make its appearance on the island. It was bad enough he had a poor perception of his surroundings—to navigate through weather as severe as this was but a death sentence. Zoro wandered aimlessly, and unfortunate for him, not even his sharpened blades could fend off the chilling breeze that ravaged his body. The fire of determination is what kept his soul warm. 

The utterance of his name is what pulled him from his concentration.

Swiveling his head around, his available eye zeroed in on you in no time. His hand had instinctively fallen to the hilt of his sheathed sword, his reddened nose wrinkling with mild annoyance. “Thought I told you to quit callin’ me that.” He grumbled, though instead of acknowledging his dissatisfaction, your ears focused on the evident frog in his throat. Unlike him, you came prepared for the weather that Nami forecasted, clad in a lengthy, pink wool coat, insulated bottoms, and a pair of boots ensuring your feet stayed protected. 

The snow crunched underneath your boots with every pounding step you took, a look of relief filtering through now that you'd confirmed the swordsman’s well-being. Not that you doubted he could fend for himself. Zoro, veiling his confusion underneath the impregnable walls of his unwavering resolve, stared at you with puzzlement. Why were you out here in such conditions? “I was looking all over for you!” You smiled, the warmth of it stumping the swordsman further, though he brushed it aside. He squinted, his fingers tightening around his sword with suspicion. “What for?” He quirked a brow, challenging your reasoning head-on. He didn't need a pansy to guide him back to the ship, even if he had passed the same frail tree five times now. The slashes he'd carved into the bark made it obvious. 

“Well, you hadn't returned from when I last saw you leave– and I didn't want Luffy to eat your dinner because you didn't show up.” You explained your reasoning, but even then, Zoro didn't budge. You paused mid-explanation to spot your crewmate’s unusual flaws within his appearance. Speculating he might've caught a cold from enduring the icy breeze all this time, you did what anyone with sympathy would do. Zoro’s grip loosened up, observing with caution as you removed the flowy scarf that ornamented your choice of attire. 

His stoicism wavered once it made its home around his neck. 

The soothing fabric hugged his neck, and with you looping it around his broad shoulders to ensure he stayed protected, an unfamiliar warmth hugged his heart as well. “You should be more careful, marimo.” Your voice had always been the epitome of euphonic, but with the lack of obnoxious voices from the rest of the crew to drown it out, it was almost a rich noise to his ears. He wasn't even upset you called him out of his name. His fingers curled around the fabric, pulling it up to shield his nose from being further assaulted by falling snowflakes. While you didn't have the gall to admit it aloud, you thought the garment was worn nicely by him, especially it previously belonging to you. 

Zoro would soon come to know your generosity didn't cease there. 

The hairs of his nape stood at the atypical brush of your thumbs against his flesh, working your fingers to cover up his exposed skin by grasping his coat, closing it up as best as you could. “Nami says you’ll have trouble getting back, so lemme help!” Your confidence brooked no room for objection, sealing the deal with the way you began to drag him along by his wrists. It felt odd, but not once did the swordsman even begin to struggle against your touch. Despite the sickening fuzzy feeling inside, your words only then registered.

“She said what?”

“Walk faster!”

Dinner. 

It went the same, per usual. The liveliness of the kitchen seemed vacant, quiet enough for Zoro to catch the sound of bubbles surfacing in the blue depths that kept their ship afloat. He hardly discerned the ringing clinks of cutlery against their plates, as though such clamorous sounds that once grated on his nerves no longer existed. Even plucking a scallop from his plate made little to no noise, the swordsman beginning to wonder if it was the work of some paranormal activity. No, he doubted it. That cotton candy-haired pest was far away from him. 

Zoro’s eye lifted from his plate at last, and as it did, the food he chewed caught in his throat. The mouths of his crewmates, they certainly were moving—fast enough to where he couldn't read their lips no matter how hard he tried. From the way Luffy and Usopp’s chests oscillated from their laughter, Brook’s obnoxious movements that had him out of his seat—there should be nonstop racket ricocheting off the walls at lightspeed. But no. 

Their boisterous captain pulled his infamous party trick; shoving chopsticks up his nostrils and proceeded to make faces no regular human being could possibly manage. While most erupted into muted cackles, Zoro's heart threatened to leap out of his chest the very moment a single voice ripped through the quiet cursed upon his ears. 

It was you. 

Zoro’s attention snapped toward the one seated across him, the scallop that lodged itself in his esophagus hitting the pit of his stomach like a bullet. The way you laughed wasn't anything he had ever heard before, and he came across many adversaries that sparked the desire to dice the meat of their tongues just to silence them. The droplets of mirth that made your eyes glossier reeled him in like a damn fish, the hand that tried to cover that widening smile while you laughed useless. He hadn't the foggiest idea as to why the golden sound that was your amusement was what called out to him, but in a way, he didn't wish to hear anything else at that moment. 

Hearing his own thoughts then, Zoro pushed himself up abruptly from the table, resulting in the shaft of his encased swords knocking Robin’s glass over. The sound that finally transferred through was the glass shards scattering across the floor. Not only that, but his faltering breaths that made his chest tight became a pounding disturbance to his eardrums. Silence shrouded the kitchen then, the beady eyes of your crewmates including your own now locked with the startled first mate. 

“Watch it, one-eyed wonder.” Sanji hissed, the cook having already moved to clean up the mess. Zoro, not one to take such insults, opened his mouth to retaliate. “Zoro,” It was your voice that rose instead, his lips pressing into a straight line. That concern in your tone, it was nothing more than pity. He loathed it. With a sudden jerk of his ankle, Zoro smashed a shard underneath his boot until it crumbled into meaningless particles. More specifically, until the reflection of his scrunched face of confusion was no more. 

The swordsman retired from the suffocating room without an exchange of words, his posture as he exited a silent request he be left to his own devices. Smartly, no one rose from their seats, left to pick at the leftovers on their now lukewarm plates. Luffy, on the other hand, happily extended his arm across the table, prepared to swipe Zoro's leftovers if it weren't for Nami’s chopsticks pinning his rubbery hand to the table. 

You stayed behind to help Sanji with the dishes, even though the lovelorn chef insisted you get your rest. Truth be told, you wanted a distraction. Zoro valued his alone time, they all knew that. It was practically a virus how much you wanted to help him—even though you weren't entirely sure as to what his troubles stemmed from in the first place. You weren't a tough fighter like the swordsman, the captain, or the cook. But at the same time, you hardly backed out either, knowing you were a weak link. Still, you made it a personal mission to prove your worth to them all. 

You still had a debt to repay, after all. 

So caught up in your thoughts, Sanji’s constant calling of your name didn't register until now. “Y/N!” The cook’s voice startled you, the dish you'd just finished cleaning flying from your hands. Sanji moved twice as fast to retrieve it, the plate balanced on his erect knee while his arm saves you from quite the fall. “Sorry..” You were quick to apologize, though the accepting smile on the cook’s face cleared up your guilt. “You're losing your edge tonight, Y/N. I'll finish up here, just get some damn good rest.” His advice was the best course of action, it seemed. With a short nod of understanding, you dried your hands off with a nearby towel. Of course, the thoughts of dinner didn't quite leave. 

“I don't think Zoro's feeling well.” You sighed, folding the towel up once more and placed it back on the counter. Sanji bent his cigarette between his fingers, mulling over your concern with a fraction of a contrasting feeling. “I'm sure that muscle-head is fine..” He scoffed, tendrils of smoke billowing in the gap between you both. The cook's words did little to console you, especially when you had a strong gut feeling that you were correct. Noticing the flame in your eyes that refused to be extinguished, Sanji sighed. “..but it wouldn't hurt to check on him,” He added rather late, his hand giving your shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “You're good at that.” His words then gave you enough courage to set out in search of your troubled first mate. 

You were grateful for your suitable choice of wear, otherwise, you were certain you'd keel over from the unbearable chill just beyond the door. Stepping out onto the deck, you drew in a breath, bracing yourself for what could possibly come. Zoro would be found and consulted, you swore on it. With your goal in mind, you began to wander the Sunny, caring not for the snowflakes that began to teem from the star-spangled sky, for such minor inconveniences wouldn’t keep you from doing what felt right.

The frustrated grunt somewhere behind you piqued your interest.

Your eyes snapped that direction in an instant, but to your disappointment, there wasn’t anyone there. Until you looked up, that is. The crow’s nest, and within the dome-shaped hut, the training room where Zoro released his pent-up frustration. You felt foolish for not thinking to look there first. 

And so, with a sudden surge of energy, the bottom of your sandals slapped against the floorboards to reach the ropes surrounding the mast. You scaled them with efficiency, not that you were the best at climbing such wild ropes, but your determination kept you going. Soon enough, you reached the hut and poked your head through the entrance within the floor. You dodged the flying attack by the skin of your teeth, ducking in time to avoid being diced like the training dummy just behind you. Before you knew it, the clatter of swords hitting the ground nearly had you fall out of shock. 

It was the sudden, unyielding grip on the collar of your shirt that kept you from plummeting to the deck far below. 

Your gaze gradually lifted, wantonly zeroing in on the beaded-sweat chest before ultimately meeting the scowl of the first mate you were in search for. “..Thank—” But before you could proceed with expressing your gratitude, you were dropped onto the wooden floor with little warning. Naturally, you rolled, and as you did, Zoro’s foot that stamped your back, albeit gently, kept you from hitting a dumbbell. “What, long-nose?” He spat, but instead of acknowledging the venom, your attention was drawn by the moniker. “I'm not Usopp.” Your mouth formed a slight pout, Zoro's eyes narrowing at the sight of it. “With the way you stick your nose in other people's damn business, you might as well be.”  

You found yourself incapable of retorting, as he did have somewhat of a point. 

Of course, to bicker wasn't what you came here for. “Ror– Zoro,” You cleared your throat, a relieved exhale leaving your lips once Zoro's foot lifted from your back. He looked down on you with a glint of an emotion you struggled to identify. The question you planned to ask, it had been answered. Zoro's eyes squinted, a sudden tension gripping his face. That reddened nose of his twitched, and before long, the imminent eruption that was his sneeze rattled his bones. You climbed to your feet in an instant, but the swordsman’s hand that revealed his outward facing palm forced you to a halt.

“I'm fine.”

“Your ears turn red when you lie.”  

Zoro quirked a brow, his hand instinctively moving to cover his jewelry-ornamented ear. His face flushed with annoyance at the sight of your smug smile, the realization that he’d be duped being rather humbling. “You think yer funny.” It wasn’t a question, more of a bold statement of a fact—not that he’d admit such a thing. You weren’t above referring to yourself as a comedian when appropriate, but now wasn’t the time. “This is why I told you to cover up!” You frowned, and his scoff that dismissed your evident concern irked you further. Zoro’s eyebrows seemed to crease, for the sound of your words being sautéed in venom was a harmony hadn’t heard. He didn’t like it. Your clenched fists let up, your eyes beginning to follow his hand movements with a sense of caution. 

The swordsman swiped his swords from the ground, sheathing them effectively. The tautness of your face eased up at the sight of Zoro unraveling your gifted scarf from around his arm, just underneath his bandanna. How you hadn’t noticed it before, it was a question left unanswered. The swordsman extended it out to you, yet your declining of what belonged to you baffled him on the inside. And so, he took action. Your muscles stiffened as you processed the encircling of strong arms around your leaner torso, pulling you into his bare chest with little to no warning.

“You worry too much. S’just a cold.” Roronoa grumbled, but as he spoke, you took the time to swathe him in the scarf, wrapping it around his neck carefully. “You’re a fool.” You murmured, nose twitching as the scent of sweat-slicked skin infiltrated your senses, caused by the close proximity. “Why’d you leave dinner early?” At long last, the million dollar question fell from your lips, and it seemed his nose began to burn brighter. He planned to pull apart from you then, but it was useless once you wrapped your arms around him as well, drawing him closer.

“Didn’t like the food.” Zoro shrugged, though the both of you seemed to know what a lie that was. Breathing a sigh of exasperation, your hands slid up his brawny back, up to cradle his cheeks in your palms. The gesture puzzled him, enough to briefly shatter the intricately crafted facade of collectiveness he bore. “Don’t lie to me..” You playfully warned, feeling the way he subtly leaned into the touch of your hands, thumbs smoothing along his cheekbones. Zoro’s expression softened, chewing the bottom of his lip with mild annoyance. However, as your thumb brushed against the bottom, thumbing the swelling with a tender touch, he found it difficult to resist.

In a swift motion, his lips met yours in a messy, fervent kiss, gradually softening into something tender and affectionate. Instinctively, your fingers wrapped around the back of his head to pull him impossibly closer, granting him the wish of claiming your lips so hungrily. The fingers of your free hand traced the broadened chest before you, your occupied hand cradling the head of the man you wanted. The two of you parted reluctantly, Zoro’s tongue sweeping across his lips to savor the sweet taste of your own. 

“M’not lyin’,” Zoro breathed, pinching your chin to tilt your head up further, “..but it tasted better comin’ from you.” The smirk tugging at his lips sent a warm flush creeping up your cheeks, unable to resist the smile that made your cheekbones ache.

[trashytracktales]

Fade to nothing | CL¹⁶

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none of my works are available for reposting on other platforms.

© trashy track tales, 2024

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𐙚 summary ──── Maybe the summer break on the French Riviera fried their brain cells, because they've finally decided to simply not care anymore if someone sees them together. But when she catches the wrong stares, she starts spiraling. Now, Charles has to switch her focus back on him.

𐙚 pairing ──── Charles Leclerc x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, secret relationship going public, fluff & smut, overusing French terms of endearment, descriptive language, mature/sexual content, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, lots of teasing, reader dealing with insecurities.

𐙚 word count ──── 5.5k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 10, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Foaming at the mouth, because I find it so very offensive that I don't have my own personal Charles Leclerc. Anyway 😤. As Daniel Ricciardo said, enjoy the filth. Wait, no. That's me 🤍🎀

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THEIR DAY ON the French Riviera begun in a golden haze. Hand in hand, they strolled through picturesque streets, enjoying every moment together. In public. For the first time.

They walked across the town like they were the only two people left on Earth, passing by quiet art galleries and stylish boutiques. For the most part, all she focused on was the pure excitement of being with him, holding his hand had, taking pictures and making memories. But as the day went on, her awareness of the curious looks she caught grew stronger.

The sun is now slowly setting, painting the horizon in a warm orange glow just as they return to Charles' boat. As though nothing could possibly bother them here, Charles puts his arm around her and guides her on board. Then, he offers her a gentle smile, his gaze full of warmth while telling her he's heading over to make some drinks.

The girl watches him for a moment, allowing herself to take in the serene comfort he exudes, and wishing she could absorb even a small portion of it. She always feels it when she looks at him, and this time around, nothing is different. On the contrary, somehow, it's as if everything she feels for him comes together in a tiny, small point, a singularity so powerful that it makes her feelings collapse on top of each other.

She rushes to the cabin to change, but her hands start to shake halfway through, and she can feel the doubts weighing her down. She keeps thinking about the subtle judgment she saw in their eyes, which serves as a reminder that many people might believe they jumped into this too soon and that she is only a fling — a stand-in for his previous relationship.

Even though she tries to push the thought away, the sadness comes too quickly, and tears start to well up in her eyes. Suddenly, she feels small, so out of place, as though she’s a visitor in his life rather than someone who belongs beside him.

Which sucks, because she really, really likes him.

She was always confident; she thinks that was one of the reasons why Charles noticed her in the first place. But now, it is as if all her confidence has evaporated under the gaze of some random people she doesn't even know.

They both agreed to keep the relationship a secret in the beginning, just as they both agreed that today they won’t care if anyone sees them. They've stayed hidden from the world for far too long, but now she wonders if they should have waited just a little bit longer because, all of a sudden, she starts feeling too unprepared for the wave that is about to hit, which sends her spiraling.

Because it takes her too long to return, Charles comes to check on her, finding her in the cabin, sitting on the edge of the bed, half naked and clutching one of his shirts to her chest. Usually, he's not the type to intrude, but the soft sound of her quiet sobs fills the small room, piercing through him like a sharp, unexpected ache.

Without a second thought, Charles sprints over, kneeling down in front of her, his gaze steady, filled with raw concern, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

She feels his hand on her thigh, which brings her back to the present moment, way too fast. Her breath is slightly shaky while her hands try to instinctively pull away from his gentle grip to wipe her cheeks, in order to hide any trace of her tears.

Looking down at him, she manages to let out a choked word that holds so much weight for her right now, “Us.”

“Us?” Charles raises an eyebrow. “What about us, mon cœur?”

She smiles, pressing the shirt closer to her chest, wiping the tears again with the back of her hand.

“I want you to have it all,” she admits, “And I'm starting to think that, maybe, I won't be able to give you what you need.”

He wants to immediately deny her statement, because in the four months they've been together, she gave him everything and more.

“What? What do you think you don't give me?” he asks, taking the same hand she wiped her tears in his palm.

She shrugs, “I just think… I sometimes think you deserve better.”

Better. The idea twists in his mind, disbelief and frustration tightening around his heart like a claw. He lets out a small scoff — not to mock her, but because it's hard for him to believe that she's doesn't think she's enough for him. It breaks his heart, because she cannot be further away from the truth.

“Where is this coming from?” asks Charles in a quiet, but firm tone.

She shakes her head, wishing she would've never opened her big mouth, “I was just thinking,” the girl repeats, letting out a dry chuckle. “It's nothing, really.”

Charles’ eyes travel across her face, taking in every micro expression, “You're crying, mon amour, so it's not nothing. Where is this coming from?” he asks again, “How much ‘better’ do you think I deserve?”

Her fingers start fidgeting in his grasp, eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder, “Everyone loves you, especially your fans. You deserve someone who matches that, someone who belongs in your world, without feeling so small next to you.” She pauses for a moment, the words weighing her down, “I saw people staring today,” she explains, “I know we’ve both agreed to not care about what they think or if someone gives a fuck about seeing us together, but I realized how out of place I must look beside you. That’s all.”

Charles needs superhuman powers to ignore the frustration that’s slowly creeping around his shoulders. His eyes are intent, fixed on her, desperate for her to see what he does. He knows that her feelings are valid and very real to her, but that doesn't mean that they tell her the whole truth. At the same time, he doesn't want to make it worse by explaining why people's opinions shouldn't affect her the way they do. Instead, he gently grabs her hips, pulling her down to sit on his lap, so she's now straddling him, their faces inches apart.

“Listen to me,” he says, his voice low, “You see me, beyond everything everyone else sees, and that’s why you are more than enough. You are the realest thing that has ever happened to me, do you understand? You're not just a phase, and I'm so sorry I didn't show you enough how important you are to me. Because you are, bébé.”

She bites her tongue in order to stop herself from contradicting her boyfriend. Deep down, she knows she’s flawed in ways she can’t easily mend, no matter how much Charles wants to reassure her. A part of her wants to believe him, but even now, wrapped in his warmth, she knows the doubts will find their way back.

Charles’ hands drop on her waist, resting there while holding her close on his lap. He feels her doubt, understanding that she's struggling with more than what she lets him to see — another dagger to his heart.

“I'm with you, love,” he adds, rubbing his thumbs in small circles on her bare skin, “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Not if I have any say in it, is that clear?”

His voice sounds far too bossy, which makes her flinch a little, recognizing too late that he is far too blunt for the situation they both find themselves in.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”

“No, don't apologize,” Charles rushes to say, pressing her head against his chest. “I’m glad you told me, but I want you to care about what I say, and not what people might say.”

He envelops her completely in his arms, and it’s like he’s just now realizing how small she feels against him, her body fitting perfectly against his. She feels that, too — the warmth and steadiness of his arms around her, the way he grounds her, making her feel safe.

“I never doubted you, you know,” she clarifies, “I was just thinking that, if I can't handle pressure, I don't think we should…”

He tightens his grip around her waist, refusing to let her finish her thought, his heart screaming in agony as she tries to move away. “Don’t go there, please,” he almost implores her.

“Why not?” she whispers.

“Because it’s not the case, I promise.”

“But—”

“Because you'd be so wrong. Because I love you,” he continues, as if it's the most casual thing ever. Like it is as obvious as tomorrow. As easy as breathing. As automatic as blinking. As if it's not the first time he ever says it to her face.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The words are ricocheting against her skull like he just put a spell on her. Of course Charles loves her. He showed her this through every little gesture along the way, and she knows he means it, because for the first time since they got back, she realizes she doesn’t want to run from this, from him.

She was so blind, but the next time she looks at him, her fingers tracing his cheek, she simply knows. Charles lets out a small sigh, leaning into her touch, then taking her hand back in his, pressing a gentle kiss on top of her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Tell me you see it,” says Charles, exhaling a heavy breath.

His gesture makes her feel warm inside, “See what?”

“That you are everything to me,” he answers softly, caressing her hand with his thumb. “That I want you exactly as you are.”

For a moment, understanding dawns in her eyes — the realization that they are real, in spite of what she might think — like a light that is breaking through the doubts that had clouded her mind for so long.

“You are mine and I am yours, and I won't have it any other way.”

She exhales slowly, nodding in his direction. Even though he's able to see the relief washing over her face, he still needs a confirmation, so he can anchor himself to it.

“Say you understand.”

“I understand,” she parrots, sinking her teeth into her lower lip.

He sees the hesitation, closing his eyes for a moment. “You understand, but you don't believe me,” Charles concludes, his voice full of wonder. He sucks in a breath while freeing her lip, brushing his thumb against it. His eyes lock on hers, “You really think there is someone else out there who makes me feel the way you do, hm? Who else is going to be this responsive, baby?”

To show her what he means by that, he pushes his thumb inside her mouth, Charles' soft voice sending shivers down her spine. She opens up more, instantly, gazing back at him, realizing how right he is. Meanwhile, Charles is slowly pushing his thumb further, watching her lips closing around it.

His mouth curls up into a smile, “That's it, mon amour. Oui, see that? I don't think there is anyone else out there who can be this good for me, so eager to submit to everything I do,” he laughs, “Hell, I don't even have to tell you what to do, you just know, baby.”

She closes her eyes for a split second, sucking on Charles’ thumb, her hands gripping tightly on his forearm. It makes him feel in control more than usual, which awakens something primal in him. He ends up caressing the side of her face with his fingers as he pushes his thumb deeper, pulling it out with a soft pop, before shoving it back in.

“So fucking good for me, and you think I deserve better? What’s better than this, mon cœur?”

As a response, she moans slowly around his deliberate, slow movement. He finds it so satisfying to see how easily she listens, understanding exactly what she needs from him in return — patience, kindness, reassurance, and trust.

Charles pumps his thumb one more time before pulling out, using it to leave a wet trace down her neck. His hand tightens around it for a brief moment, bringing her back to him. She opens her eyes, still under the spell he put on her earlier with just three little words. Her eyes are dark as she looks up at him through her eyelashes, the desire in her eyes sparking like fireworks.

“You need this, don't you?” he asks curiously.

She nods, which makes Charles smirk. It’s easy to notice the subtle shift in her energy — the way she presses her body closer to his, and the way her breathing deepens. Charles sees the vulnerability in the way she looks at him, but he knows is different now; she’s not hesitating anymore.

Something flickers inside of him as her hand lightly but purposefully caresses his chest; she wants him to take the lead. She isn't seeking power or domination, but asking him to guide them both through this. And Charles understands she’s giving him the space to be the one to move them forward, because this is more than just a physical need. It's about how she decides, here and now, that she trusts him completely.

They stand inches apart, the air between them heated and taut with silent yearning. Every part of their bodies is tuned to each other in a way that feels so delicate yet urgent, and Charles can feel her heartbeat synchronize with his, both of them pounding in anticipation. Her lips are slightly parted as her eyes glide up to his, a silent invitation he cannot refuse. The outside world seems so far away, as if all that remains is this common understanding that neither of them is willing to let go of.

The kiss begins shyly and slowly. At first, his lips are gentle against hers, a slight touch that seems to carry the weight of all they have been resisting. She reacts swiftly, her hand slipping into his hair, drawing him in and intensifying the kiss.

Then everything changes — the pressure grows desperate, almost vital as the intensity increases. She melts into him, pressing every inch of her body against his as if she can't get close enough. It drives him wild, forcing him to tighten his grip on her. 

Slowly but surely, their make out session turns into a silent cry for something more profound, as her fingers tighten in his hair to pull him closer. Their chests heave and their foreheads rest against one another until they eventually split apart, panting for one more breath of air.

“Forgive me, mon amour,” says Charles, trying his hardest to regain his composure.

“Forgive you?”

“Because I made you doubt us. Doubt me, and how I feel about you,” he clarifies, breathing wetly above her skin. “Will you let me show you how sure I am about this?”

She nods again, smiling, her hands still resting on his chest.

He gets up to lay her carefully on the bed, positioning himself between her legs as he unbuttons his white shirt. Meanwhile, Charles’ eyes glide over her bare chest and the way her wavy hair spills over the pillows, making her look like an angel.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers as he leans over to kiss her neck, then going further down, sucking bruises all over her chest on his way to her stomach, claiming his girl with every flick of his tongue against her skin. He cups her breast in his palm, squeezing her enough to feel him all over her body, his lips reaching over her panties. “In case I wasn't dead fucking clear already,” Charles adds softly, almost like a promise, hooking his fingers on the lace material before pulling it down her legs, “I only want us. Like this. Always.”

She moans softly, anticipating his fingers to send her to another realm, far from any doubt. And her world does, indeed, change completely the moment she feels his tongue at her entrance instead. So hot and soft and warm against her, that her fingers curl instantly into his hair while his tongue slips between her folds, as if that is its rightful home.

“Charles,” his name comes out of her mouth in the form of a whine, sending little jolts towards his already hardened cock.

“Putain,” he chokes out, raising his head to look at her, “Nobody tastes like you do, baby. So sweet and wet for me.”

“Charles,” she whines again, her chest rising and falling with burning intensity. “Please…”

“Patience, bébé,” Charles chuckles, his voice vibrating hotly above her, “Let me worship you, so you won’t question me ever again, yes?”

He would have heard her agreeing with him, if Charles hadn't slipped his hands under her until his palms gripped her ass to pull her closer to his mouth. As a result, he hears her moan louder than before, smiling as he connects his lips back on her pussy, sucking on her clit with a newfound thirst.

His grip on her is so strong that even if she wants to push her hips further, she can't move an inch. Which drives her crazy, because his tongue works her with such frivolous movements, bringing her so close to the edge, but she still needs more.

“Baby,” she moans painfully, getting too agitated that it makes her get up, proppting herself on her elbows to watch him. “Fuck, Charles,” she adds, admiring how beautiful he looks between her legs, lapping at her with one goal in mind.

She tries to rock her hips back against the pressure again, which just reminds Charles of how good he makes her feel. The thought drives him mad and, even though it’s all about her right now, he can’t stop fucking his hips down so he can rub his aching cock against the bed, searching for any sort of friction.

“I feel you, baby. Don’t hold back,” says Charles, his voice sounding muffled between her legs.

His tongue is enough to make her come all over his face, he knows that, but he can't deprive her of his fingers when she needs him the most. So, he uses his hand to split her further under his mouth, making sure he touches her sweet spot again and again. And again, until a wave of pleasure hits her like a tsunami, shaking her to the core as she cums involuntarily. She tries to pull him out of her legs, because she knows how messy it gets when she comes that hard, but Charles drops his mouth back on her, driving her through her orgasm as his tongue finally stops at her entrance to catch the rest of her release. Then, he swallows her sweetness, letting his forehead drop on her thigh.

Their breathing is the only thing that can be heard in the entire cabin for a while, her palm resting on his cheek to caress him gently as they both recover slowly.

“So fucking hot, mon cœur.”

She sighs, still too sensitive from the pleasure that reverberates throughout her body, “Come up here,” says the girl, patting Charles’ head.

He pushes himself up, still half dressed and very much hard in his boxers. Charles lays his weight on her, exhausted, like he's came ten times by now. Gently, he rests his head on her chest while her arm wraps around him and his palm curves around her breast, pinching her nipple lazily between his fingers.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, enjoying the way she gets covered in goosebumps under his breath. “So perfect and so mine.”

She can't say anything to him without her voice shaking, so she gently grabs his chin, bringing Charles on top of her to kiss him. She feels her own taste as their tongues collide, causing her to moan softly into his mouth. Even if this kiss is much, much tamed than the previous one, just the thought that he was between her legs makes her pussy tighten, as if she's been set on fire from the inside out.

“Can I return the favor?” she finally asks in a breathy voice once their lips part.

Charles hums at the mental image of her mouth around his cock, but decides to push the thought deep into his mind, “Who said I’m done with you, mon amour?”

Charles' hand travels to her pussy once again, his middle finger gliding lightly over her wetness. Her eyes close in pleasure, while her arms wrap around his neck, before she realizes what he's actually doing. Her eyes snap at him as he reaches the letter 'R', Charles grinning proudly from above her.

Their faces are so close she can see the twinkle in his eyes, and their breaths blend together in a sweet warmth.

She laughs, “Did you just spell your name on my clit?”

His expression instantly lights up when he hears her. “Planned to do it with my tongue, but I didn't expect you to come that hard,” he admits, joining her in laughter.

She blushes at his statement, remembering how true it is. It's impossible for Charles not to notice that, but he loves it when her cheeks and chest become so rosy as a result. He also loves the sounds she makes when she's turned on, so he's not wasting any more time before teasing her wet entrance with his finger, pumping it slowly, until he feels her clenching around it. Just to make her forget the shyness, of course.

His flemish gaze sweeps over her entire body and, seeing her so vulnerable and willing beneath him, makes him want to run his tongue over every inch of her, to cover her in kisses and love marks until it's too much, so that he can come all over her pretty nipples just at the sight of her.

“Fuck, if you could see yourself right now,” says Charles, exhaling sharply. “You make me lose my mind, you know that? I almost forgot I still have to show you how mine you are. You want that, baby, don't you?”

“Yes,” she returns to whining, because apparently that's all she knows recently.

And she does it again, when his fingers pull out of her way too soon for her liking. She follows Charles, getting rid — fucking finally — of his shorts and boxers with a quick movement, poising himself again in his place, right between her legs.

She swallows hard at the sight of him, her mouth drying up in record time. She remembers the first time she saw Charles naked and how it didn't even occur to her that they would even fit. Of course, he made it work, because that's what a man with a huge cock does — it makes it fit.

The girl follows Charles as he wraps his dominant hand around the base, then runs his hand along its length, massaging the tip to spread the pre-cum. He made her feel so good, she didn't even take into consideration how torturous it must have been for him. But the little hums he lets out as he positions himself at her entrance are enough of a signal for her to push her hips against him.

Unfortunately, the man meant every word when he said he wasn't done, so he won't simply let her have it, just because she’s so willing to take him. She has to understand, once and for all, that this is it — she is it for him.

Slowly, Charles taps the head of his cock at her entrance, teasing mercilessly. It's almost like a punishment for thinking so low of herself, for doubting him, his feelings for her and what they've built together so far.

A lot can change in four months, especially feelings.

He lets out a shaky breath as he parts her folds with his tip, but instead of pushing inside, he fucks his cock up between the lips of her cunt. Once. Twice. Three times, until he's leaking on her clit, coated in her wetness. It is a sinful feeling that makes them both moan in unison, an ecstatic duet between two souls who found each other at the right time, no matter what people would say about it.

Fuck people. All of them.

She throbs against him, the feeling of skin on skin settings her atoms on fire. His hardness feels so good between her folds that she needs to anchor herself to something, and the sheets are far too fragile for her grip.

“Yeah, you feel that, ma vie?” asks Charles rhetorically when he sees her losing herself. “Of course you do. The question is, did you feel it before?”

“Charles…” she whimpers, pushing her hips against his length in order to find the sweet friction she craves. “Need you. Please.”

Her eyes are watering as she feels the knot in her stomach, waiting for a release that seems so far away — he’s not even inside, fuck's sake.

“So pretty,” hums Charles, ignoring her pleading. “You're gonna look so pretty taking me, ma belle. You always do.”

She raises her head only to let her eyes wander down Charles’ body, from his flushed face to his toned abs, down to where his cock rests hardened between her pussy lips. His eyes are locked on where they're making contact, the image so intimate and powerful it makes him want to scream. She realizes that this is a punishment for him as much as it is for her, but he enjoys it more since he's the one in charge.

She gasps in surprise when Charles grabs her thighs, her head falling back down on the pillows. He pulls her closer as he leans over to seal his lips with hers, having no intent to be soft this time, the passion that burns between them pushing him so close to the edge.

Charles’ tongue tastes her in a rush as he pushes forward, his cock pressing deliciously on her clit, making her break the kiss with a pathetic whine.

So predictable.

“Can you, please, fuck me already?” she says, frustration evident in every word she utters.

Her pleas are so close to get him, wanting nothing more than to bury himself so deep inside her, until he feels her coming on his cock all over again. But Charles groans loudly, hovering above her chest to take one of her nipples in his mouth, biting her gently.

At that, her frustration only grows bigger, forcing her back to arch against him.

“Charles,” her tone is demanding now, motivated to make him understand she's done playing.

“Don't worry, I’ll fuck you so good, baby. Turn over for me,” he replies, anticipation tugging at the edge of his patience.

She does as instructed without saying another word, feeling his hands grabbing at her waist to pull her against him. Then, Charles pushes his palm gently between her shoulder blades until her face is buried between the silky pillows. She lets a muffled moan while his knees are pressing down into the mattress on either side of her thighs, his cock resting hard against her ass.

“Did I mention how pretty you are?” he asks, not expecting an answer in return, while he finally guides himself toward her needy cunt. He pushes in, slowly at first. Deliberate and calculated, as if their initial contact is meant to gather as much data as possible, so he can choose the perfect setup for what's about to come — the position, the angle, the pace. “Such a pretty girl,” he adds with a tamed moan, “Opening right up for me. Every single time, baby. Taking me so well.”

She tries to get up by doing a weak push-up, but her head drops heavy between her shoulders as she fucks back against Charles' length, the pleasure overwhelming her.

The feeling of having him like this makes her squeal, failing to find a single thing worth more in this world than Charles thrusting from behind.

“Oui, have my cock, baby, like that,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss on her shoulder, managing to hit her deeper from this angle.

Charles' touch is still gentle, though, like he's testing the grip, desperately wanting to find the perfect balance as he eases into a rhythm made just for them. He takes every gasp and every shiver of her body as signals, relearning what makes her pulse race and using everything in their favor.

She turns her head to the side when Charles leans over to clasp the edge of the mattress, his knuckles whitening with the force he's putting into it. The veins on the back of his hand look like they're about to pop at any moment, bulging from his skin and snaking up his forearm, finally out of her view as they reach his elbow.

He's so hot and she is so turned on that she could come again just by looking at his arms.

Charles' pace begins to build, the intensity in his breathing growing more labored with every thrust of his hips. Each one is bolder than the last one, like he's reaching the apex of a corner, pressing into her just enough to feel the thrill without losing control. As a response to his movements, she starts breathing in short spasms, the world around them becoming a blur.

“That's it, bébé. You're so fucking good for me, I'm not… fuck,” his voice almost gives out, feeling how close he is to cum from fucking her like this, so he decides to pull out completely in order to prolong the feeling.

Charles learned from an early age that every race is unpredictable, so he has to adapt to any condition.

It makes her cry at the emptiness, her pussy clenching wetly around nothing while he looks down, curious too see how bad she needs him.

Her head falls back between the pillows for the hundred time, too exhausted to scold Charles any more. So, she guides her hand between her legs, firmly massaging her clit, feeling her thighs start to shake. However, the pressure is not nearly as good, which makes Charles chuckle at her weak attempts.

Patiently, he grabs both of her wrists to keep them pinned to her lower back as he uses his free hand to rub the head of his cock against her throbbing hole.

“Chaaarles,” she whines loudly, pressing her cheek deeper into the silky fabric under her, mind too numb to protest further more.

He buries himself back in with a strong thrust, making her gasp at the fullness. Somehow, it feels so much better than before, her body so sensitive in all the places they make contact.

With every shift in pressure and pace, Charles reads her reactions as if they are telemetry data on his steering wheel.

“Please don't... Don't stop again, please,” she lets out another cry, feeling her walls clenching so sweetly around him. “You feel so good, fuck, I… I'm so close.”

He knows that. That's why he stopped in the first place. But now he's ready to give her exactly what she needs, freeing her wrists as he watch them fall next to her body as if they're lifeless. Charles then grabs her waist with both hands, thrusting into her so hard that the sound of their bodies slapping together drowns out both of their moans.

“Want to fuck you for the rest of my life, amour. Please, let me fuck you for the rest of my life,” he implores, panting aggressively.

“Oh, yes,” she agrees, squeezing her eyes in pleasure.

Charles pulls out again, making her grunt at the loss. But before she gets the chance to protest, he flips her over, shoving his cock back in while searching for her eyes, a smug smile hanging from the corner of his mouth.

She moans in relief, pulling him closer, wrapping her hands around his neck to bury her fingers in his messy hair.

“I almost started barking at you,” she admits, rolling her hips with his.

“I know, baby. Just wanted to see your face,” he explains, finding his pace once more.

“Oh, yes. Yes, feels so good,” she begins to moan uncontrollably under his weight, just as Charles leans down to rest his forehead against hers.

“I know, I know. I've got you, my love,” he kisses her again but it doesn't last this time.

Their mouths remain parted, breathing heavily against each other as she comes around his cock, gazing into each other's eyes as if they could see what shape their soul have. Seeing her face changing in pleasure, makes Charles fucking into her faster, following so closely after her.

His moans sound so melodious in her ears while he rides their orgasms, that she starts believing honey is dripping from his lips, because he cannot be real.

Charles is about to pull out when she stops him with a hand on his lower back.

“I only want us, too. Like this. Always,” she repeats his words from earlier, more determined than ever. “And I think I love you a tiny bit more,” she continues, running her hand up his spine. “That's why I was so scared.”

Charles shivers under her gentle touch, “You still scared?”

“Terrified,” she replies, giggling, pulling him in to capture his lips in a loving kiss.

The kind that makes the rest of the world fade to nothing.

thank you for reading!

reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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The world only saw Lando Norris, the quick-witted Formula 1 driver. They didn’t know about the side of him I knew—warm, caring, fiercely protective. Our relationship had been a secret for almost a year, something we wanted to keep safe from the prying eyes of the public and the pressures of the racing world. But I never expected someone to test the strength of our hidden romance as Franco Colapinto did.

The paddock was buzzing after Williams announced that Franco would be replacing Logan Sargeant. Franco had a boyish charm, that easygoing confidence that made him instantly likable. I was happy to see him get his shot in Formula 1, and I had no reason to think he’d be anything other than friendly. But from day one, he turned his attention to me in a way that was impossible to ignore. At first, I brushed it off as him trying to make an impression, especially as he didn’t know about Lando and me. But as his flirtation intensified, it became harder to ignore—and harder for Lando to tolerate.

One afternoon, I was in the paddock waiting for Lando to finish a debrief when Franco walked over, wearing his Williams team shirt and a lazy, almost arrogant grin.

“Y/N,” he greeted, giving me a once-over that felt more invasive than flattering. “You look stunning today. I bet you bring good luck to whoever you’re with.”

I laughed politely, shifting uncomfortably. “Thank you, Franco.”

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I mean it. I’ve noticed you around, and let’s just say… I’m determined to make sure I see a lot more of you. Maybe a date after the race?”

I tried to play it off with a polite smile, but it felt slimy. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He laughed, not at all deterred. “Why not? I’ve got plenty to offer, Y/N.”

The unsettling feeling in my stomach grew as Franco took a step closer, his eyes raking over me. I had a sinking feeling he wasn’t used to hearing the word “no.”

I was relieved when Lando finally emerged from his meeting. He took one look at Franco standing so close to me, and his whole expression changed. His jaw clenched, eyes darkening, and he strode over, positioning himself protectively between Franco and me.

“Is there a problem here?” Lando asked, voice tense.

Franco’s smile only widened as he shrugged. “No problem at all, mate. Just getting to know Y/N a bit better. Can’t blame a guy for being interested in a beautiful girl.”

Lando’s hand tightened around my waist, his jaw ticking with restrained anger. “Maybe you should focus on your driving, Franco. Y/N’s not interested.”

Franco gave him a dismissive look, his smirk unwavering. “That’s funny, Norris. Just because you say she’s not interested doesn’t mean it’s true. I think she deserves to make her own choice.”

I could practically feel the fury radiating off Lando as he squared up to Franco, not bothering to hide his protectiveness anymore. “Back off, Colapinto. I’m only going to say this once.”

Franco laughed, clearly amused. “Touchy, aren’t we? I didn’t know she was already spoken for. But tell me, Norris… are you sure you’re giving her everything she needs? Because I’m willing to bet I could do better.”

Lando’s fists balled at his sides, and it took every ounce of restraint I had to pull him away before things got physical. “Lando, it’s not worth it. Let’s go,” I said softly, trying to defuse the tension.

Reluctantly, he let me guide him away, though I could feel his entire body still wound tight with anger. Once we were alone in his driver’s room, he paced back and forth, struggling to calm down.

“Who does he think he is, talking to you like that?” Lando muttered, his voice sharp with frustration. “He’s just a rookie. No one even knows his name, and he thinks he can just… just take you from me?”

I moved closer, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “Lando, he doesn’t know about us. That’s why he’s acting this way. Just ignore him. He’ll get over it.”

But Lando shook his head, his expression hard. “I don’t care. I don’t care if he knows or not. I don’t want him near you.”

-------------------------------------

Race day arrived, and Lando seemed more tense than usual. Even as he prepared to get into the car, his eyes kept flicking over to me, as if making sure I was out of Franco’s reach. I tried to stay out of sight to avoid more confrontation, but Franco didn’t make it easy. Just before the race started, he found me in the garage, that same smirk on his face as he strode over.

“You know, I’m still serious about that date, Y/N,” he said smoothly, grabbing my hand before I could pull it away. He brought it to his lips, holding my gaze in a way that felt more like a challenge than a gesture of admiration. “Imagine the life we could have together. You don’t have to settle for second place.”

“Franco,” I said firmly, pulling my hand back. “I’m not interested.”

But he only chuckled. “That’s not the vibe I’m getting.”

Before I could respond, Lando caught sight of the scene from across the garage. His eyes blazed with fury as he marched over, grabbing Franco by the shoulder and yanking him back.

“I warned you, Franco,” Lando growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Stay. Away. From. Her.”

Franco just laughed, clearly reveling in Lando’s anger. “Calm down, Norris. You’re making a scene. What, scared of a little competition?”

“Competition?” Lando’s voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper. “I’ll show you competition.”

With that, he turned on his heel, stalking off toward his car without another word. I knew he was furious, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end of it.

The race was brutal. Lando drove with a relentless aggression I hadn’t seen before, overtaking at every opportunity, refusing to yield an inch of space. When he finally closed in to lap Franco, I held my breath, watching as he drew dangerously close, almost forcing Franco off the track. Then, in a split second, Franco’s car veered off-course, spinning out and crashing into the barriers. The gasps around me were drowned out by the sound of metal grinding against concrete.

The cameras caught every second of it, but I knew immediately: it hadn’t been an accident. Lando had pushed him, and Franco’s car was totaled. Word quickly spread that Franco had injured his wrist, an injury that would keep him off the track for weeks.

When I finally found Lando after the race, I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Lando, tell me you didn’t do that on purpose.”

He looked at me, eyes still blazing with the same anger I’d seen earlier. “He was asking for it, Y/N. I warned him. He wouldn’t leave you alone, and then he had the nerve to say he could treat you better? I wasn’t going to stand for that.”

I stared at him, torn between anger and an unsettling sense of pride. “But Lando… you could’ve seriously hurt him.”

He pulled me close, his expression softening just slightly. “I’d do anything to protect you, Y/N. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else thinking they have a claim on you. I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

My heart softened, even though I knew he’d crossed a line. “Lando, you can’t just—”

But before I could finish, he kissed me, right there in the open, in front of cameras and crew. Our secret was no longer hidden; he was making it known to everyone, Franco included, that I was his.

As the days passed, Lando’s apology came in small gestures—a handwritten note slipped into my bag, flowers on my doorstep, a quiet apology over dinner. He promised me he’d try to control his temper, and slowly, I forgave him. Because, in the end, there was no denying that he’d done it out of love, fierce and unyielding, a love I couldn’t resist.

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Hi,

There's a stray cat (very friendly, no collar or anything) wandering our street and he's very skinny so we were thinking of trying to put out food for him and hopefully in a couple months take him in (or at least bring him to a vet to be neutered and released if not).

I was wondering if you had any advice / stuff to watch out for from your experience taking care of Diesel?

Not really. Cats that are socialised young enough are generally pretty easy to bribe with food over time, in my experience; if he's friendly, he should fall in love with you pretty quickly. (Cats that are unsocialised young will very occasionally socialise themselves but are almost always a waste of time, but it sounds like he's been socialised so you shouldn't have problems).

Don't touch him before he wants you to unless there's some kind of emergency (in which case, use a cat trap, but if there's no emergency don't bother); that's a great way to make him wary of you and also get bitten by his horrible plague mouth (cat bites are very prone to infection). Cats are generally easy beasts to deal with if you respect their autonomy and their personal space.

If he's outside and starving, he might have various fleas, internal parasites, and other minor but treatable health problems. Cats are particularly prone to a variety of worms, as well as eye infections. Your vet will tell you how to deal with these, and explain to you how to give him a dewormer and bathe him if he needs bathing (most cats don't ever need bathing, but if he's young and filthy he might need one when you take him in.)

Most socialised cats like to sleep inside where it is safe and warm, so if you feed him for a bit then there's a really good chance that you can just open the door one day and let him into your house. This is especially likely if he's lived in a house before. Some socialised cats who have secure lodgings already in some drainpipe or basement or something will avoid this, but in the vast majority of cases a friendly cat will happily just come inside. So you shouldn't have any trouble "catching" him, unless you have other cats or dogs in there that he might want to avoid.

The one thing that I would warn of is that most outdoor cats I've dealt with have had some level of PTSD. When Diesel started hanging out with me I had to watch him carefully to learn what sorts of things would make him panic (sudden movements or approaching him from specific angles, touching him when he is asleep), and what sorts of things triggered his hypervigilance and put him on high alert. The triggers are different for different cats; some hate enclosed spaces or heights (things that most cats love), or won't eat without somebody standing guard, or need to be able to see the door to the room at all times. These quirks are generally not hard to deal with; just don't do stuff to your cat that upsets them (unless you have to, like for medical reasons) and you'll be fine.

If you want information on anything complicated that shows up with him (unlikely; cats are generally very easy beasts to deal with), there's a wealth of great information from cat fosterers and rescuers on youtube.

[rekino2114]

Messing with the chainsaw man girls hair

This was requested by @shikitohnoskk

The request:Hey, is it okay for me to request it again? I've noticed that most of the Chainsaw Man girls (Makima, Asa, Kobeni, and Quanxi) wear a ponytail.

Headcanon: Have S/O see their hair down and compliment it, and perhaps personally tie their hair into a ponytail.

Note: for the other girls who haven't ponytailed or short hair like Power, Himeno, and Fami (does Yoru count since she is in Asa's body)?. What are your ideas on them?

A/n:I couldn't come up with a good title that fit all the girls' scenarios, so you get that. Also, sorry if I posted this later than usual again. School sucks

Makima

Living with makima, you've gotten used to the morning routine you have. She always wakes up before you and prepares everything you need. She wakes you up with a kiss, and you do your morning routines together, helping each other get dressed, washing your faces, and putting each other's ties on. It's a really sweet and domestic moment that you love.

Doing this so many times, you started to notice something, whenever you woke up makima already had her hair done, even if she was still in the lingerie she wore to bed.

You weren't surprised. Her ponytail looked like it took a lot of time to get done, and she probably didn't want to "bother" you, but you still wanted to see her with her hair down, so one day you woke up by yourself, without needing her to kiss you.

You yawned and stretched, then made your way to the bathroom where you saw just what you wanted to see, your girlfriend in front of the mirror messing with her hair.

She noticed you behind her in the mirror but did nothing and waited for you to come near her, you did and hugged her tightly, still a bit groggy

"Good morning darling, why did you wake up early today?"

"Wanted to see you"

Makima giggled at your sleepy tone but turned around and hugged you back kissing you in the process

"Your hair looks beautiful like this"

"Does it? I think it looks unkempt"

"It's still beautiful"

"Thank you love"

She kissed you once more and pulled away from the hug, turned around again towards the mirror, and grabbed her hair tie

"Do you want me to help you?"

"Hm?"

"I can help you tie your hair if you want"

"That would be wonderful, my love, are you sure?"

"Of course, I'd love that"

Makima smiled brightly at you and handed you the hair tie. You took it and gently grabbed her hair and started to tie it up, trying to imitate the form you always saw it in.

"You're amazing, my darling, i don't know what I'd do without you"

"What do you mean? You do this alone every morning"

"No, I meant in general. You give me a reason to wake up and get ready every day"

"That's so sweet to hear, but you know you'll always look beautiful to me, no matter what"

"Thank you sweetie, but I still want to do this, you really didn't have to"

"But I wanted to"

"And that's what makes you so wonderful"

You finished tying her hair, and she looked at it. She thought it was even more beautiful than when she made it

"It looks amazing thank you so much"

"Don't worry about it, it's the least I could do"

She turned around one last time to kiss you, even more passionately this time. When she pulled back, her beautiful golden eyes looked back at you with so much love

"I don't think words can describe how much I love you"

"The same goes for me makima"

Power

"Get your hands off of me, filthy human"

"......power please calm down"

You and the rest of division 4 were supposed to attend a meeting with makima and some important members of the government, so your boss advised you to dress nicely, this was no problem for you and your other friends, but it kinda was for your girlfriend power.

She only accepted to take a bath when you joined her and even then didn't wash very well and she struggled a lot while you were helping her put her suit on.

"Ugh! This is so uncomfortable"

"I know, but you have to wear it"

"Said who?"

"Makima"

"...........ok"

She sat in front of you again as you put her tie on

"OK I'm done"

"Finally!"

She started to get up but you stopped her

"Wait, we're not finished, you have to tie your hair"

"What? Why?"

"I dunno, I guess it makes you look more....... civilzed"

"Are you saying I'm not civilized normally?"

"Listen, we need to make a good impression, or makima is gonna dock our pay. Just put this on, please,"

The blood fiend pouted and turned around dramatically

"Never! I refuse!"

"I'll give you cuddles when we get back"

"..........."

"With meowy"

Power turned towards you again, still pouting but with a blush on her face"

"Fine, you win"

"Thanks"

She grabbed the hair tie you were holding in your hands and looked at it for a while before trying to tie her hair.....unsuccessfully

"Do you.....need help?"

"O-of course not! How dare you say that!"

She proceeded to continue failing to tie her hair

".........can you help me?"

You giggled but quickly got up and went behind her, taking the hair tie and starting to tie her hair

"Have you ever tied your hair before?"

"Y-yeah but it's really hard doing it alone"

"Don't worry, I get it. You can ask me for help when you're struggling"

"R-really?"

"Of course, I'd love to"

"......thanks"

"It's no problem"

As you finished tying her hair you looked at it and smiled

"You look beautiful like this"

Hearing this power smugly grinned and turned around to look at you

"Of course, did you have any doubts the great power would look beautiful in any hair style?"

You laughed again and kissed her cheek, causing it to glow red

"No, I definitely didn't, now let's go, denji and aki are waiting for us"

Himeno

After waking up and doing everything you needed to, you were waiting for himeno to wake up as she usually slept late. You heard a big yawn coming from your bedroom and knew that she woke up so you waited patiently for her to come out of the bathr-

"AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

You immediately sprinted towards the bathroom

"Himeno, what's wrong?"

"O-oh hiiiii y/n, n-nothings's wrong I just-"

"Why are you covering the left side of your head?"

"......whaaaaaat? No I'm not"

"Seriously hime, what's wrong you know you can tell me"

Himeno sighed and took her hand off of her hair

"OK, just don't laugh"

She turned around and you started staring at her hair, at first you saw nothing wrong but then

"Wait, is the left side of your hair completely cut off?"

"Yeah"

"How did that even happen?"

"I-i dunno I was drunk last night and-"

"You had scissors while you were drunk? You could have hurt yourself"

"I know.....sorry"

"It's fine, at least you're ok"

"Yeah, my hair isn't though, you think I'd look good with a hat?"

You both laughed softly at that, you put a hand on her head and started stroking her hair

"While I think you'd look good with anything, I don't think you need to put one on"

"Hm? Why? You got a solution?"

"Maybe, what if you cut the other side too so it's even, you have shot hair anyway so it'll grow back fast"

"I guess that could work, but to be honest, I don't really trust myself with scissors anymore, even sober me"

"I can help you"

"Really?"

"Yeah of course"

"Awww, thanks so much baby, you're the best"

"It's nothing just go sit somewhere, I'll grab the scissors"

Your girlfriend gave you a thumbs up and grabbed a chair to sit in while you took the scissors. You then stood behind her and started cutting her hair carefully

"This is just like being at an hairdresser"

"Don't exaggerate, I'm not a professional so it may come out ugly"

"Please, if you do it, then it possibly can't be ugly"

"You're giving me too much credit"

"Nah, it's you who's giving yourself too little credit"

"Well thanks"

"No problem"

After you finished cutting her hair, you told her so, and she went to the mirror to see how it looked. After she stared at herself for a few seconds, she smiled widely and went to hug and kiss you

"You're amazing y/n, this looks great"

"Oh please it's not-"

"Hey! Stop that. You're amazing, ok? That wasn't a question it was a statement, so don't try to argue with it"

"Hehe, alright thanks, I'll accept it"

Himeno smiled again and kissed you passionately

"Great, because I'll say it as many times as I need to"

Kobeni higashiyama

(The person who requested this actually sent me this picture saying it inspired them to request, I really appreciate that so thanks)

You put the keys in the door of your shared apartment and turned them, as soon as you opened it, kobeni weakly walked through the living room and let herself fall on the sofa heavily sighing in the pillow

"The mission was hard wasn't it?"

She got up and turned towards you, her expression softening a bit but still clearly irritated

"Yes, well, the mission itself was supposed to be easy, but power was insufferable. She kept being so loud and annoying and reckless-"

You quickly pulled her into a hug, which caused her to relax and nuzzle in your chest

"I know I know, don't worry I'll ask makima to pair us up together next time ok?"

"T-thanks"

"How about we just relax now, let's cuddle and watch a movie"

"Yes please, I'd like that"

You two smiled at each other, and you went to the kitchen to get the snacks ready while kobeni changed into something more comfortable. You came back after a while and brought the blankets with you, you saw kobeni with her pjs on

"You look good"

"E-Eh?"

"I'm just saying, you look cute when you're comfy, I like seeing you relaxed"

She blushed and looked away for a moment before smiling again at you again

"Thank you"

You smiled even brighter as you sat near her and you started watching the movie

"Why do you still have your hair tied?"

"Hm?"

"I thought you'd let your hair down, to help you get more comfy"

"I-i guess"

She raised her hands to her hair, but you grabbed them and held them in yours, kobeni started blushing but looked at you with confusion

"No, let me do it, I want to"

"W-what?"

Before she could protest, you started untying her hair and grabbed her hairpins, putting them on the table along with the hair tie

"There you go beni"

"O-oh thanks"

"It's nothing, I just want nothing more than to help you relax in any way possible"

"You're really the best I love you"

Your girlfriend started to relax more and laid her head on your shoulder. You smiled at this and started playing with her now free hair

"Your hair looks beautiful"

"U-uh? Oh, thanks, really"

"Every part of you is beautiful to me, especially right now. You're always so stressed and tired, I love seeing you like this"

Kobeni turned to look at you a bit surprised but quickly smiled as she felt her cheeks getting even hotter

"Thank you really, thank you so much, I cannot describe how much I love you"

"Me too beni"

Quanxi

"I'm taking a shower. Do you wanna join me?"

You looked up from your phone to see quanxi starting to take her blood-soaked suit off

"Oh no, thanks, I'm not really in the mood right now"

Quanxi nodded silently and continued to take her clothes off in front of you, something you had gotten used to as she had little to no trouble walking around the house in very little clothes

"Then can you wash the suit? The blood got in pretty deep"

"Yeah sure"

You got up and grabbed the clothes she threw on the ground, you started walking but were stopped by quanxi, putting a hand on your shoulder

"Wait"

She untied her hair and shook her head, making her white hair flow and fall behind her head, despite her being in nothing but her eyepatch, her hair was still the thing that caught your attention the most.

"You don't need to wash this, just give it to me when I'm done"

"OK"

She smiled at you and gave you a kiss on the forehead

"Thank you, sweetheart"

After you put her suit in the washing machine, you resumed doing what you were doing before while you listened to the water fall in the bathroom until the sound stopped, and you heard the door open.

"Love, can you give me the hair tie back?"

You looked up again and saw your beautiful girlfriend in a tank top and shorts and still with her hair down

"Oh yeah, here you go"

You got up again and handed her the hair. she rewarded you with another forehead kiss

"You look beautiful"

"Uhm?"

"Your hair, it genuinely looks beautiful like this"

"Oh, thanks, I guess I don't let them down often, so I'm glad you like it"

"Do you mind if I tie your hair?"

"Sure"

Her answering with such little hesitation confused you a bit, as did her handing you the hair tie and turning around as well as bending over a bit.

But you quickly did what you wanted to and tied her snow like hair, admiring how genuinely beautiful it looked

"You really like my hair, don't you?"

"Yeah, I love it, like every part of your body"

"I'm glad"

When you finished your job, quanxi turned around and suddenly kissed you passionately and wrapped one of her arms around you, sliding the other one under your shirt, feeling your stomach

"I love you so much, my sweet"

"I love you too"

Asa mitaka/yoru

Having two girlfriends in one body sometimes made it difficult to distinguish who was in control of the body in one specific moment, but you found a method to do it. If you can't see the face directly, because the scars and eyes would give it away pretty fast, you look at the hair, if it's a ponytail then it's probably asa and if they're down then it's probably yoru.

For some reason, one of the first things yoru does when she takes over is untying her hair and throwing the hair tie somewhere in the room making it hard for asa to find it later, one of this occasions resulted in you currently tying asa's hair

"Thanks for helping me"

"It's nothing, don't worry, you should probably get more hair ties though, how did this one end under your bed anyway?"

"I don't know ask yoru"

The girl said in a passive-aggressive tone, hoping to get the attention of the devil in her head who just ignored her

"I guess I could try to ask her to be more careful about it"

"Please do"

"Hehe, ok, I'm finished by the way"

"Thanks"

"You're welcome"

Asa stood up and turned towards you but was surprised to see your lips approaching hers, and before she could react, you kissed her. After a bit of confusion, she reciprocated your kiss that lasted for a bit before you pulled back

"So do you wanna eat something? I have some chips if you want"

"Yeah thanks"

You gave her a thumbs up and went to the cabinet, grabbed the bag of chips and two bowls and put it on the table, you looked back at asa only to see her......with her hair tied down

"......yoru? What are you doing here?"

"I took over"

"Yeah why?"

"I wanted to see you"

"*sighs* OK....but take the hair tie back"

"Eh? Why?"

"Cause then asa will have to spend hours searching for it"

"Fine, here"

She handed you the hair tie she surprisingly still had

"You didn't throw it away?"

"No....I heard what you said"

"Oh thanks"

Surprised by her thoughtfulness, you kissed her like you did with asa, which caused her to blush slightly but kiss back quickly, more aggressively than her host. She let the kiss go on for a few more seconds before she pulled back

"I'm gonna tie your hair now"

"Why? I like them better like this"

"Cause asa just tied them, I don't want her to have to do it again"

"It's always asa this and asa that, what about me? I like my hair like this"

"It's not your hair in the first place"

"..........ok that's fair"

"I'm glad you understand"

The war devil reluctantly turned around and let you tie her (asa's) hair again. After you finished, she turned back only to not have the scars and ringed eyes anymore

"Oh hey, welcome back asa"

"Thanks"

"I'm surprised yoru let you take over"

"She didn't, I think she's still yelling at me in my head"

"Oh, you're fighting over me?"

"We kinda have to when we share a body"

"Well, I'm flattered"

"Thanks for tying my hair again by the way, I know it can be annoying"

"Oh no not at all, I love it"

"I'm glad, I really love everything you do for me well for us"

Fami

A/n:So, since we're talking about hair and fami, I wanted to bring up something I've been thinking about for a while. What color is fami's hair actually? I always thought it was pink (maybe because i associate her with kirby) but in the volume cover she's in, you can't really see the color because the lighting is weird (or they're more purply) and in the fanart I've seen she's with either pink, purple or white/cream colored hair similar to quanxi. I guess we won't know for a while, but I'll still keep writing her as if she has pink hair. Also, sorry if this is shorter than the other ones, I didn't have that many ideas

"Fami can you......take off your hat for a while?"

You had been staring at the famine's devil hair for a while, something that she noticed but didn't seem to mind. You were confused by it and wanted to confirm something, which prompted you to ask the question

"Why?"

"I just wanna see your hair"

Fami shrugged and did as you told her, revealing her pink hair full of crumbs and stains

"What........happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your hair is dirty, like really dirty"

"Oh yeah, some food fell on me"

".......how?"

"I was trying to get it in the cabinet and it fell on me"

"......*sighs* I'll go get a hairbrush"

You went to the bathroom and took a hairbrush out of a cabinet, going back to the living room and standing behind fami while she was still eating, starting to brush her hair carefully

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to clean your hair"

"Oh........thanks"

"No problem, just tell me earlier next time"

"Ok, I just didn't want to bother you"

"You could never bother me. In fact, I love your hair, and I love brushing them"

"......thanks again"

"It's really nothing but geez, a lot fell on you, I think we'll have to wash it"

"I guess I don't mind if you join me"

"*sighs* sure if you want

[purplepixel]

The point was, even tho I do not like how this turned out, maybe someone else would.

I drew this while sad, hurt, and frustrated from completely unrelated reasons and afterwards I wasnt even happy with how it turned out. I see it and notice every single flaw. From how flat the rendering looks, to how that left leg bothers me, to how my values just don't pop the way I want them to. It wasn't perfectly imperfect like my other recent drawings. And I didn't have the mental energy anymore to problem solve it.

Instead of hiding it in the depths of my iPad like I normally would, I shared it anyways. Not mentioning a word on how much I disliked it. Until now 24 hrs after the fact.

I don't like it. But 200 of you did. Some of you told me why you liked it in the notes and reblogs. And some of you were other rise artists and fic authors that I follow. Funnily enough, out of the recent five sketchy paintings I've made THIS IS THE ONE YALL LIKE THE MOST????

So I guess my point to myself is, maybe you should be sharing more of your art instead of having it collect dust somewhere. Even if something isn't your level of perfect, there's someone out there that will still appreciate it. And who are you to deprive them of that?

[the---hermit]

09|11|2024

What a week. I finally got the behated wisdom tooth removed, and tho at the moment I am in pain I am happy I finally did this. It's been bothering me for so long, I finally feel free. I won't lie to you it has kind of kicked my ass because I wasn't feeling at my best to start with so in the past few days I have just been super tired and in painTM. I cannot wait to be able to eat comfortably again. I also have a couple of study progress news. I have finished working on a couple of articles for my history of Sabaudian states class, and after checking the other additional articles I have decided I will not be working on those. They aren't mandatory and they are just context based articles I think I can work without. Then of course if while studying I realize I really need them I will work on them at that point. This leaves me with only the geographical maps as new materials for that class, and I will be focusing on that as I reread and review my notes. This means I can finally move on working for another class, and here comes the new problem. I am second guessing which other exam I want to do in January. I was very much set on working a class called "spaces and places of knowledge", but then I realized my history of political insitution class might not have exam dates in April. For some reason no dates for the exam of this class have been made public yet, so if on Monday I still can't find anything I will be emailing the professor. In case there are in fact no dates in April I will be taking my political institutions exam in January and the other class in April. You'd think thatby the middle of the first semester we'd have all the important info but nope. Anyway I am happy I am mostly done with the materials for a class, and I am quite confident I can take two exams without having to rush at the very end.

📖: The Adventures Of Amina Al Sirafi

[drarry-reccage]

Grounds for Divorce by @tepre

Tags: slow burn, pining, jealousy, egypt, lemons

He looked like he’d flipped his long hair over to one side and messily tucked it behind his ear. There was a pot on the stove. He was cutting something very finely. The table was already set. A stumpy old candle, fished out of God knew where, stuck out from the neck of an old bottle that stood in the middle of the table. The wireless was on, softly playing scratchy old tunes. “Oh,” Malfoy said, noticing Harry. He halted a little, seemingly unsettled. “Hello. How did your exams go?” Harry frowned at him. At the kitchen, the candle. “Fine,” he said. “Good, maybe. I don’t know. What’s this?” Malfoy put down the knife, wiping his hands on the towel. “What’s what?” “This,” Harry said, gesturing around him. “Well. Dinner.” Malfoy turned to stir at the pot as he added, talking fast, “I thought you’d want to celebrate, you see. And I was bored, and I’d gotten these lovely mushrooms and it was a good excuse to clear out the kitchen for once, and for. . .” “I’m—” Harry frowned, blinking quickly. “I’m having drinks with the others. At a pub.” He licked his lips. “I can’t have dinner.” “Oh, well, then,” Malfoy peered into the pot. He gave Harry a short wave of a gesture, as though dismissing the topic altogether.

Okay, look. Look. I know, this is not some obscure fic that no one's ever heard of. But I would never feel complete if I didn't post it in my recs here. And there are people who haven't read it! This situation must be rectified.

I also know that not everyone is as feral about this fic as I am. If you can't stand Harry being a jerk to Draco, well, then you aren't going to enjoy a good portion of this book. (For whatever reason, this doesn't bother me. See also I do not love you, The Man Who Forgot, Ship of Theseus, among others)

But if that's not a deal breaker for you, I beg you to read this. The writing is exquisite. The pining is painful. The angst is angsty. But the happy ending makes it all worth it.

There is not a podfic of this fic, but when I say I'd give my left arm to have the permission to make on, I mean it. (Not my right arm, because that's where my GfD tattoo is.)

rec by @sweatersinthesummer

[tkomptgoedluv]

icantbelieveiletyougetaway.

joost klein x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, they’re so in love with each other it hurts but can’t admit it, joost just wants to be her everything, angst, hurt, comfort, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 4,156.

warnings: very brief allusion to drugging, heavy and frequent references to SA, violence, vague mentions of non-specific mental illness, rpf.

notes: in my head this takes place in 2021-2022 when joost had that really short, almost buzzcut like hair? like the wachtmuziek era. also, very sorry this is late!! it’s still only been half-proofread and i’m not even sure i like how i wrote the ending but here she is anyway. i love her and i hope you do too 💋.

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

with shaking hands, you fumbled around the bathroom floor to find your phone. your chest was heaving, the cries that you struggled to keep quiet were getting all caught up in your throat as you fought meekly through the nausea. you wiped at your face again, desperate to clear your vision and leaving behind a mixture of tears, snot, and smeared mascara on the back of your hand.

the room itself was dark, barely lit up by a singular dim, yellow light, though despite the shadows you could still see how everything was spinning. you couldn’t remember how many drinks you’d had — it hadn’t felt like a lot, you weren’t a lightweight by any means but you didn’t know how else to explain the state you were in. you couldn’t stand up even if you wanted to, your legs strangely numb to the touch and the pounding in your head made staying on the floor all the more appealing anyway.

face down on the grimey, tiled floor you found your phone laying just underneath the sink. you ignored the low battery warning as you swiped through your contacts, squinting through your tears at the screen as if it would actually help you see any better. you were only looking out for one name; the third out of the four that were listed under the letter ‘J’, and the only name to have an emoji next to it.

over the sound of the heavy, techno bass that seemed to shake the walls and the buzz of a hundred different people all talking amongst each other, you heard the line start to dial. it didn’t make sense to call him out of everyone else that could possibly help you; he was infamously known for never picking up the phone. it was ironic for someone so notoriously attached to their screens, his face typically glued to either his phone or his ipad.

but still, you hadn’t so much as thought twice about it as you clicked on his contact and then the call button. With your head tilted back against the wall and your knees curled up tightly against your chest, you prayed to any god listening that by some miracle, he wouldn’t be busy.

“hallo?”

you let out a whimper at the mere sound of his voice, a small, pathetic noise that quickly turned into a cry that you didn’t bother to stifle. he called out your name for a second time, though now in a tone that was much softer than the one before it.

“i’m sorry, i know it’s late.” you paused to take a breath, your voice having cracked like glass as you spoke. “but i need your help. i don’t…joost, i don’t know what to do.”

“it’s okay, just take a big breath for me.” for just a moment you heard shuffling around on the other end of the line. with each of his footsteps the background noise grew quieter until it disappeared completely, following the sound of a door being shut. “where are you?”

“i’m at…i’m at this house but i uh, i really don’t wanna be here anymore. do you think you could…can you just come get me, please? i’m sorry.”

over the sound of a drum and bass beat that played so obnoxiously loud, you struggled to catch all the whispers from joost’s side of the phone call. there was another voice there, that much you could hear, and you struggled to place it despite how familiar it sounded. you tried to concentrate on the faint muttering, straining your ears to hear it over the song that blared just below you.

but then you jumped when the banging started. a sudden flurry of fists pounding against the wood and making the bathroom door rattle within its hinges. from the deep laughs that followed, chances were it was just a group of guys trying to be funny, probably thinking it was one of their friends getting lucky on the other side. and yet still, you found yourself gasping for breath as you choked back fresh tears, all the blood that ran through your veins turning cold.

“schatje? did you hear me?”

you could only hum back in response.

“i said i need you to send me your location, okay? and then i’ll come get you, i promise.”

it was the moment you figured out how to do so that your phone finally gave up on you. after hitting send, the little map displaying your whereabouts popping up in yours and joost’s text chain, your screen began to freeze. in a moment of panic you managed to choke out that you were locked away in a bathroom before it all went black, leaving you to stare at the taunting dead battery symbol.

you weren’t oblivious to the irony of it all. in a house crammed full of people, perhaps even a few too many than it was built to hold, you felt alone. just a few minutes ago that was all you wanted, to be by yourself, but now it left you with a ringing in your ears. the absence of joost’s voice was enough to throw you inside what felt like a black hole, where time seemed to slow the longer you waited for him.

you found a brief comfort in watching the time pass on the old, analog clock that hung high on the wall opposite you; you figured it was a better thing to focus on besides the sharp ache between your legs. it helped keep you distracted from the way everything just hurt now, whatever it was that was in your system already starting to wear off. without it numbing you to the pain of it all, you could feel the headache brewing behind your eyes and the sting of your split lip.

with each minute that dragged by, the slow, high-pitched tick of the clock echoing inside your ears, your mind began to slip further and further away. every time that you closed your eyes you could see it happening all over again; you could feel his hands back on you, ripping at your clothes and bruising your skin.

all the tears that you had only just managed to blink away came rushing back, continuing to decorate your face with more long, dark streaks of black. surely, this was going to be the thing to finally break you. there would never be any redemption or recovery for you — he’d get to live the rest of his life without burden whilst this was bound to be the death of you.

the more you unravelled, the more erratic your cries grew with hiccups racking your body and a deep burning in your eyes. for once you found yourself grateful for the music’s mind-numbing volume, though somehow it still wasn’t enough to mask the sound of a soft tapping against the bathroom door. like a coward you froze, failing to answer back before you heard your own name being yelled out to you, followed by a harsher knock.

“hey it’s me, it’s joost. can you open the door please?”

as you steadily climbed to your feet, using the edge of the sink to help push you up, your knees began to shake. they threatened to buckle out from under you with every step that you took, each limp towards the door sending a short stabbing pain up to your abdomen. the sensation made you wince, your jaw clenched and a grip on the door handle so strong that it turned your knuckles white.

it was almost sardonic how despite being in a house so loud, everything went quiet as soon as that door swung open. the music never stopped nor did anyone dare to change its volume, but all joost could hear was his own heartbeat thumping in his ears as his eyes met yours. all he could do was swallow, pushing down the bile that was quickly rising up his throat.

even in the low, warm light of the bathroom, he could see the streaked mascara that painted your face and the bloodied lip that was still trickling down your chin. your favourite shirt, the one that he himself had bought you, was torn and just about hanging off your shoulders. it exposed a trail of black and blue spots that started along your shoulder and went all the way down your arms, a couple even dotted down your legs.

joost uttered your name, his voice barely audible over the music downstairs. the corners of your frown twitched, your bottom lip quivering as you shook your head, already answering the question he hadn’t even asked yet. from where you stood he could see you shaking, your knees weak and barely holding you up right. he didn’t hesitate to pull you into him, an arm locking around your waist as his hand found the back of your head, keeping you hidden in his chest.

“jesus christ, what happened to you?”

you couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the right words to even try and explain what it was you had gone through. you could only weep into the fabric of joost’s jacket, so exhausted and overwhelmed that you didn’t have the strength to hold yourself together in front of him. but it was more than enough of an answer for joost who just held you tighter the harder you cried, fighting back tears of his own.

pulling away as gently as he could, joost still kept you in his grasp. his hands cupped either side of your jaw, calloused thumbs wiping away stray-fallen tears as his eyes danced over your face. with a gaze so intense, you could see his eyes growing sadder the longer he looked you over in the dull light of the bathroom.

“i left stunts outside — he’s still in the car. we could…we should go to the hospital.”

“no!” your own dramatic change in tone caught even you off guard. you couldn’t help it, you were panicking now, pulling joost back by his sleeve as he tried to guide you out of the bathroom. the action made you wobble and almost trip over your own feet, flinching at the sudden cramp you felt deep in your stomach. joost’s grip on you hardened, not nearly enough to hurt but enough to keep you from falling back and hitting your head on the sink. “not tonight. please, i just wanna go home. i’ll be fine.”

“you can barely fucking stand, schatje. you need help.”

“then i promise i’ll go in the morning! but right now i just really need you to take me home, okay? i’m begging you.”

perhaps if joost had a little bit more of a backbone and wasn’t so hopelessly head over fucking heels for you, he would’ve had the courage to say no. he would have been able to look you in the eye and still say that he was going to get you to a doctor, whether you wanted to go or not. but no matter how much he wanted to, how much he hated what you were asking of him, he couldn’t. feeling you trembling in his hands and hearing the fear that shook your voice meant there was longer a single thing that joost wouldn’t do for you.

you were his best friend just as much as he was yours, regardless of all the very non-platonic things the two of you had done together over the years. as far as you were concerned it was just something that you’d do sometimes, only ever as friends. there were never any conversations about it the next morning, never any acknowledgment for what it was you had done the night before; it was almost like it never happened until it would undoubtedly happen again. you always liked it like that though — as long as it meant that you never had to think about how you really felt.

joost, on the other hand, was painfully aware of what he felt about your situation, about you. it was never just sex for him, not even once, and he wanted to talk about it. and he tried to, a couple of times, spending the first few mornings after trying to coax you back into bed just so he could hold you skin-to-skin for a little while longer. but you never wanted to stay and you never wanted to talk about it, either, so joost stopped. he let it become another pain he had to live with and spent each day telling himself that he was okay with that.

it was with only a slight hesitation that he nodded before standing back up straight, slipping his big black jacket off his arms and draping the material gently over your shoulders.

you let joost take on most of your weight as you leaned into his side, letting him guide you back through the house as you focused on just trying to make it down the stairs without tripping. to say that the place was packed was an understatement. people were crammed into every room like sardines, dancing and grinding against each other with stiff, swinging jaws. you hadn’t even heard what it was that had been said over the music, its volume still just as loud and disorienting as it had been when you first arrived.

but joost had heard every word, somehow, despite the sound of his own song polluting the room. it made him freeze on the spot, pulling you to a stop right along with him as he slowly turned to face the group of guys that were standing just in front of the front door. you felt your throat start to close at the sight of him amongst them, standing front and centre with a sick grin plastered across his face, his eyes darting between you and joost.

“what did you just say?”

it might have been the gruff, nauseating voice that you recognised, or maybe it was those ring-heavy hands of his that you could still feel pressed into your skin. you didn’t know, and it didn’t matter, because you knew it was him.

“i said good luck with that one, dude. she doesn’t go down easy; kept trying to fight me the whole time.” his stare then fell from joost onto you, his tongue gliding over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. “but we still had our fun though, didn’t we schat?”

the crack of joost’s knuckles colliding with his jaw was something you heard before you saw it; the thud of him hitting the ground following soon after. a chorus of screams and cheers rang painfully in your ears as you watched a small circle quickly form around you. anyone that could still see straight had either ran from the fight or pushed forward to get a better view of it, their phones held high and already recording.

“bet that made you feel like a man, huh? forcing yourself on a girl half your size. you piece of fucking shit, i should fucking kill you!”

in all the years you’d known him, you had never seen joost like that before; his voice low and angry as his shouts drowned out the music. he hadn’t waited for him to get back up before throwing another punch, the sharp crunch of his noise breaking making you wince and your eyes water.

you went to step forward, your hands already reaching out to grab joost’s arm when one of his friends pounced. a shriek was ripped out from you when a fist struck joost right across the cheek, knocking him into you hard enough to almost send you both tumbling to the floor. any chance for you to try and intervene again vanished when you were pushed back before you could get close enough, joost quickly shoving you behind him as he swung for the other guy.

a strong pair of arms wrapped your middle and pulled you further back as you cried for them all to stop, keeping you locked against their chest no matter how hard you thrashed. distance was put between you and the fight when you were picked up and half-dragged out the door, joost’s blond hair disappearing from sight amongst the growing crowd around him.

the bitter air of the early morning stole your breath, your chest tight and aching as the cold consumed you. small flakes of snow drifted down from the paleing sky, dusting each rooftop and the old, cracked pavements in a thin layer of white. still, there were a handful of people gathered on the house’s front stairs, clad in various leather and latex, that only stood and watched as you were hauled away from the party.

“get the fuck off me! we’ve gotta go back, we can’t just leave him! stuntje, please!”

your feet only met the floor again once you were next to stunt’s car, safely across the street. even from there, you could hear the childish chanting of ‘fight! fight! fight!’ and the occasional glass break from inside.

“martijn -”

“- stay here; i’m gonna go get him.”

you weren’t allowed to argue, so you just did what you were told. for four minutes you sat waiting in the back of the car with the heaters on full blast and still shivering as you nestled yourself deeper into joost’s jacket. after another minute you saw them heading back your way, their pace fast as they slipped past the last few people that loitered on the steps. in the glow of the streetlights you could just about make out the soft shade of purple that was joost’s eye, and the deep scowl that contorted stuntje’s face.

neither of them spoke as they joined you in the car but for joost, you never really gave him the chance to. his seatbelt hadn’t even clicked into place yet before you were turning away from him, desperate to pretend that he wasn’t there burning holes into the side of your head. if joost knew that you could see him staring from the corner of your eye, he didn’t care. if anything, he probably would’ve hoped that it might have made you look back at him, because then that at least would’ve been something.

but seeing joost storm out of that house with a violet eye and raw knuckles, having just risked everything for you without a second thought, it scared you more than you wanted to admit. he was only supposed to come find you, and bring you back home. you never wanted a fight, never wanted joost to wind up with a black eye over you. so no, you couldn’t look at him — couldn’t even talk to him, either.

except your silent treatment didn't last very long, did it? it couldn’t, because joost wasn’t going to let you get away with it this time. for as long as he had known you, you always had this habit of internalising what you felt and shutting down. it never mattered what it was you were going through, you just wouldn’t talk about it.

this time though, he wasn’t going to let you disappear in on yourself again, and he wasn’t going to let you shut him out, either.

as soon as the car came to a stop, joost was up and already outside your car door. with a sweet smile, gentle hands were pulling you up and slowly helping you onto your feet before you had the chance to protest. there was a part of you that wanted to, now too proud to admit that you still needed his help. already, he had done more than enough, even too much, for you.

still, you didn’t dare to fight it — or him, rather. besides a small goodbye to stuntje, no words were spoken as he slipped an arm under your knees and pulled you up to his chest. it was like that, that he carried you up the three flights of stairs of your building, glancing down at you every so often with soft, worried eyes. it was miraculous how he managed to open your front door with you still in his arms, his very own key to your home dangling from the clip on his jeans.

it wasn’t long before the soft leather of your sofa was dipping underneath your weight, its cushion beneath you feeling cold against the bruised flesh of your thigh. joost left you for only a second, just to switch on a couple of the lamps you had dotted around and to dig out your old first aid kit from the bathroom.

you still weren’t really looking at him, not even as he perched on the edge of your coffee table and carefully took your jaw in his hold. the brush of the alcohol wipes along the small cuts that marked your face stung and made you wince, your nose scrunching up at the pain. a string of quiet apologies followed as joost concentrated on cleaning you up, wiping away each and every smear of blood and smudged makeup.

the longer that you sat there whilst joost devoted all of his time and energy to you, the more teary-eyed you felt yourself becoming again. it felt almost…foreign to feel so loved after everything, like you were still somehow worth saving. there was no way that you could possibly deserve it — nothing you could’ve done to deserve having someone adore you so unconditionally without earning it.

and yet here he was, your joost, doing anything and everything to try and help, and you couldn’t even fucking look at him.

the only thing you could do was cry. the way you clutched your mouth did little to muffle the sounds of your distress and it drew back his attention after he turned away only to throw out all of the dirty, used wipes. it was the guilt that was doing this to you, the guilt of knowing that you were the reason why joost now had a black eye. that joost had risked his whole career by starting that fight, and you had been the one to punish him for it.

a warm hand squeezed your knee as another tucked fallen strands of hair behind your ear. it took a few tries of quietly calling out your name to finally get you to meet his eyes, but eventually you got there. nothing could have prepared you for just how sick he looked, the bags under his eyes seeming considerably darker than before and a deep frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

“i’m sorry i did this. i never should’ve gone with him, i know i shouldn’t have because i know that i know better but i still went and i should’ve done something more, i could’ve hit him harder or yelled, and i’m sorry i called you because your eye, that was me, that was my fault and i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i -”

with your face pressed flat against his chest, his sudden embrace almost swallowing you whole, you couldn’t find the rest of your slurred, blubbering words. somehow, at some point, joost manoeuvred you both onto the sofa and with his arms around you, kept you curled up against his side. a few fingers moved up the back of your neck to scratch your scalp as others held onto your hip.

it was the only thing he could think to do to shut you up, to calm you down enough to take big, slow breaths, in and out.

he didn’t have it in him to let you finish that sentence.

delicate reassurances were mumbled into your hair, quiet ‘you’re okay’’s and faint ‘it wasn’t your fault’’s becoming mantras that helped soothe the pain in your chest. you wanted to believe him and knew that you didn’t. you knew that as the deep baritone of his whispers slowly lulled you to sleep, you’d wake up with that pain still very much there.

but joost wasn’t going to stop trying anytime soon, noor was he going anywhere. it was one of the few things you’d actually let him do for you, making himself a home on your sofa whenever you would have one of your episodes. he’d sleep there, eat there, work there. sometimes joost would spend entire weeks of his life in your living room just so that he could know for sure you were still alive and breathing.

he was the only thing offering you the slightest bit of comfort. you could feel his fingers running through your hair as you curled up even further into his side, his voice still low in your ear. it was becoming to struggle just to keep your eyes open, but you knew that he wouldn’t mind.

you could fall asleep just to wake up with that same ache in your heart still there, but joost would still be there too. for now, that was all you needed.