#feel free to disagree in the *notes sorry

[wouldtheybecomeafearavatar]

Can I ask—what’s the difference between “by coercion” and “unawareness/conditioning”?

Yeah, sometimes I wonder if the wording is a bit confusing. As it's put in the intro post:

Yes, by coercion: they would go through with it, but only if threatened with a loved one's life or something along those lines.

Yes, by unawareness or conditioning: they wouldn't realize until it's too late or would be raised to be an avatar, unaware their way of existence is not normal.

To explain a bit further (spoilers for several character arcs in TMA):

Coercion means the character would be forced or manipulated into it by someone or something. It requires a degree of awareness of what is happening (otherwise they'd go under unawareness).

Robert Montauk being forced to work for The People's Church of the Divine Host to get his wife back could be an example, though I'm not sure he ever achieved full Dark avatar status.

Basira would have ended up in this category if she'd continued to work for the institute long enough to become an Eye avatar, as Elias forced her to sign the contract under threat of Daisy's life.

I'd probably put Martin in the coercion category too, since he was going along with Peter Lukas and The Lonely to potentially save Jon.

Conditioning means that the character was groomed into it by someone from a young age, or born to be an avatar. It should be noted that this only applies to people or beings who under other circumstances could have made a different choice. A being that came into existence as an expression of a Fear would be manifestation instead.

Agnes Montague is kind of the defining example of this category, though members of the Lukas family being raised into it also count.

I think Gerry Keay could be another example of this. Eye avatarhood specifically wasn't a foregone conclusion for him, but he never really had a chance at a normal life. Willingly may be more accurate; he didn't choose to get involved with the Fears, but he did choose The Eye.

Unawareness is pretty self-explanatory, though I would point out this doesn't mean that the character never realises they are transforming. That (strictly speaking) wouldn't actually work, since becoming an avatar does require an active choice at some point. In this case it's more that the character doesn't realise until they're at the point of no return and the choice they are making is between death or becoming an avatar. If they refuse once they realise it'd be "go along but stop before transformation".

Jon is an example. Coercion could also be argued, given that Elias was definitely pushing him to go further and further using the (false) threat of the Unknowing, but I think Jon was too unaware of how he was being manipulated to go in coercion.

I think Michael Shelley would also go into this category. He was manipulated into it by Gertrude, but he had no idea what was going to happen. His case is a bit of a strange one in general though, I'm not sure he even had any affinity for The Distortion to start with.

At the end of the day, these are just my opinions and you can vote however you want, but I hope this helps answer your question! (Sorry for the essay)

[masezace]

little off topic for my blog, but i started watching a new show since a friend mentioned it was good and i'd heard positive things about it, so i just wanted to talk about it a little bit (probably never again after this since this isn't a fandom blog, but it's the only one i have rn so idc it's going here)

the show is Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous, and just going on looks alone, despite my love for dinosaurs and the Jurassic Park franchise i never would have considered it. it appears to be very much for kids, and as i'm in my late twenties now i'm not particularly interested in especially kiddy media. however a friend my age enjoyed it and mentioned it has a canon lgbtq+ couple in it among the main characters, so of course i just had to watch it. i had already been hearing that despite its initial appearance and premise, it was surprisingly good for a kids' show, so i had already been curious, but i was even more keen after knowing there were queer characters, and not even the adults, the kids themselves (in a kid's show?!! what a time to be alive), so i finally sat down and watched it.

[spoiler warning, both minor and major, for the rest of this post btw, so continue reading at your own risk if you haven't seen it yet/are still watching]

the show overall

okay so firstly, i am coming at all of this from the perspective of a writer, so my observations are from a technical standpoint more so than just as a fan of the show. and honestly, it really is a well-written show as a whole. is it geared towards kids? definitely. there are plenty of jokes/gags in it that just don't appeal to me as an adult, but beyond that, there was plenty to appreciate as an adult.

the writing is actually phenomenal? there were several points in the series where i just sat back and mulled over the way a scene went, what the thought process behind writing it was like, how well it was executed, and how important it was to the characters and overall plot.

the suspense is spot on, nothing gets dragged out too long, and i will admit there have been a few scenes throughout that actually got me; i jumped! it's actually scarier than i expected a kid show to be, but i'm so glad they went where they did because it really elevated the experience.

the pacing overall is very good, adequately engaging for kids' short attention spans (and us adhd adults 🥲) but not too short either to a point where things felt abrupt or unfinished. plot arcs are well developed and tied up nicely. also, as a bit of a dinosaur nerd, the array of dinosaurs in the show is super broad and satisfying! very fun stuff.

character element

imo the real gem of this show is the character development. honestly it's just *chefs kiss*

the characters grow and change so much and so realistically over the course of the show, it's honestly so much better and more satisfying than the character growth in most adult fiction/media recently.

the growth in ben (who btw was def my favorite character by the end of s1) and kenji in particular were my favorites and, in my personal opinion, the most interesting. the way ben started out anxious, cowardly, and rule abiding to a fault, then grew into a brave, confident, adventurous little pyromaniac gremlin, then had that stint later in the series where he regressed a bit-questioning himself-until eventually ultimately striking a great balance and really coming into himself was just... peak character writing.

kenji started out overconfident, lazy, and overly concerned with money/status. but that arrogant overconfidence and laziness slowly turned into responsibility, and a desire to protect his found family, and the realization that it's the people in your life that really matter most.

honestly what i mentioned only scratches the surface in terms of those two characters, there's certainly more that can be said about them (as well as all the others) but i'm not really in the mood for a deep dive character analysis atm. just trust me tho when i say these characters are so well done and each one of them have arcs that are super satisfying to watch play out.

queer representation

and as for the queer couple? yasmina and sammy are PERFECT. it was so beautiful watching their relationship grow from one-sided to mutual friendship, to loyal devotion, then to love. they were set up incredibly well and incredibly naturally. i have like, no complaints when it comes to them. i don't even know if there's anything i can say that would add to things, they were just a really awesome couple to watch become canon, they're the beautiful and painfully needed representation we all beg for in tv and movies.

shipping, chemistry, and intent

but oh goodness... probably my only real complaint about the entire show would be how benji (ben x kenji) and kenji x brooklyn (kenlyn? brookji? idk and idrc) were handled. because for all that this show did SO much beautifully right, they really screwed the pooch here, sadly.

i'm gonna start by saying that the writing in this show, as with most, is deliberate. what i mean by this is that despite having no clue who it would be because my friend thankfully did not even spoil me as far as the genders of the queer couple, i clocked yas and sammy as the would-be queer couple as early as season one (actually it was between them and benji, but more on that later). i could already see the chemistry, because it was deliberately written in.

shipping is subjective. anyone can ship any character, and in most cases it's pretty easy to see how there could be (romantic) chemistry between fan pairings based on their personalities, their arcs, etc. and that's okay! ships don't even have to have any canon support to be valid, because shipping is for the fandom, and it's for fun (i have a few rarepairs and crack ships across different media that i just love).

but onscreen/written romantic chemistry is a lot less subjective (to clarify, it is subjective whether or not the chemistry is good, but it's not subjective about whether or not it exists). there are literally scenes written with the sole purpose of building the romantic tension and/or chemistry between planned couples (some of which even have absolutely zero plot relevance, which usually is not advised tbh, and most of which are the cliches/tropes you see in literally any romance ever written, some are just disguised a little better than others. but make no mistake, it's all the same set of cliches. there is nothing new under the sun), as well as intentional, key moments within scenes that have other purposes. they are essential to establish romantic pairings.

and typically, the foundations for these couples are laid VERY early on. always within the first or second season (well, at least they are when the writer actually knows what they're doing and has at least a rough plan/outline for the entire series & characters. this is usually a large part of what separates the good chemistry from the poor chemistry. an author who knows who the couples are going to be and has a plan from the beginning to build them up is going to be more successful in creating a believable relationship with good chemistry. one who does not plan, or makes last minute plans will almost certainly fail, and the couple is just going to suck). when the set of characters you're working with are going to stay the same for most or all of the story, you start immediately.

i don't mean to toot my own horn, because i think it's because i'm a writer so i just pick up on narrative patterns very easily, and pretty much always clock the planned couples within the first few episodes of any series, and by the end i am right like 9 times out of 10.

that being said, do you know whose deliberately written chemistry i also clocked in jwcc? ben and kenji's.

kenji and... brooklyn?

no offense to people who like/enjoy kenji and brooklyn, you are free to love them, but the way their romance was written is... quite possibly the weakest point of the show. it felt like they were just trying to appease the upsetto heteros in charge, because there was definitely another het pairing that had a lot more potential than kenji and brooklyn (hello darius x brooklyn aka darilyn, you would have actually made sense because your relationship had amazing buildup and multiple standout scenes from s1 on. dgmw, i love that we got a m/f strong, supportive, purely platonic friendship out of them, i live for those and we really need more of them. but we could have had that with kenji and brooklyn, or darius and sammy, or ben and yas, literally any other pair instead).

kenji and brooklyn as a couple came out of absolutely nowhere. i honestly think they decided to shove them together last minute, and had no actual plan for them until they were working on s4. because their development barely started at the VERY end of s3 (the abruptness of him caring about her being held hostage so much more than literally anyone else in their group despite them having like zero buildup to that point gave me whiplash), but honestly didn't really even become "meaningful" development until s4, over halfway through the series. the two spend the first 3 seasons basically not particularly gaf about each other individually, only as part of the whole group and on an equal level with everyone else. they otherwise have no deliberate narrative foundation. it just starts in s4 with no prior hinting. which makes their development rocky and difficult to believe. the funny thing is their characters literally have dialogue (in s4) trying to draw comparisons/parallels between them to say that they especially have a lot in common and like??? no? they really don't? not any more so than any other two kids in the group. their relationship just, really falls flat.

it was disappointing to see it take such a massive spotlight in the series for almost all of seasons 4 and 5, overshadowing the friendships that have been the focus of the show and should have remained so, to the point where at times it just felt like i was watching some stereotypical het highschool romance. genuinely, it made s4 & 5 more of a drag to get through. yasammy and ben and yas' growing bond (which by the way was so sweet, it had the strongest queer solidarity vibes good lord, i sure wonder why yas chose ben out of everyone to come out to first, hmmm) were some of the few things that kept me invested, otherwise i would have dropped it if it had leaned much farther into becoming the kenlyn show than it already was. especially when it was that pair so much of the focus was given to, even though we had so readily and perfectly available, the pair that could have, should have been: benji. which finally brings me to:

ben and kenji

benji's foundation was laid in s1. their interactions, the situations they found themselves in, were deliberate (on the writers' part). i'm even gonna go out on a limb here and say the pairings were fully established in s1e3, even with parallels between yasammy and benji (sammy clinging to yas and ben clinging to kenji throughout the episode), and darilyn gets the beginning of their development too.

even though they bicker a lot in the beginning, they clearly care about each other? kenji protects/helps ben multiple times, and there are definitely some looks ben gives kenji at times. at the end of s1, the one who seems the most deeply effected over ben's "death," other than darius (understandably since he's the one who failed to save him), was kenji! immediately after it happens, we get two close up shots, darius and brooklyn then yasmina and sammy. after which, we go back to the whole group with kenji in center frame, the focus is intentionally on him. it is only kenji who drops to his knees at the loss, and then we get a close up of just kenji. he was saved for last, and he was alone in frame (tbf bumpy was in frame too, but i'm talking humans here), which implies his feelings are especially important in this moment. that is the reason for solo close ups.

after ben's "death," kenji takes to always wearing ben's fanny pack, and up until bumpy--who ben cares VERY much about--got separated from them, kenji was the one who (however briefly) took over her care, ensuring she got off the monorail with them, and he's extremely distraught, more than pretty much all of them, when they can't find her, and he's last to leave when they decide to accept that ben's gone. even when they do leave, he's distant and distracted and his mind is clearly still on ben.

other than darius, kenji is the only one (if i'm remembering correctly) to mention ben/say his name after they lost him, upset because he was actually trying not to think about him. he has clearly thought about ben, probably a lot, because it's hard not to be reminded constantly when you wear something that belonged to a deceased loved one. and frankly, he appears to be the only one who dwells on him that much.

when ben reappears alive (which btw he found the group again because of kenji's butter knife, hello), the frames literally purposely focus on kenji's reaction. he's the one in the foreground every time they show him and brooklyn in that scene. he is the first one to say ben's name, the first one to go to him and hug him, and the scene takes special care to highlight kenji's strong emotions at ben's reappearance, lingering on his teary face as the focus for a bit even after brooklyn enters the frame to hug ben (because she is not at all an important element in the scene at that moment). just like when ben "died," the way this scene is written and shot HEAVILY suggests that ben holds significant importance to kenji, specifically. because again, the focus here is on kenji and ben almost exclusively, with brooklyn as only an afterthought lol. and quite frankly literally everyone else's reaction to him being alive was pretty lackluster compared to the special attention they gave to kenji on this.

and then in s3 we have the infamous hat scene, where darius and ben are in the limo and ben sees and mentions kenji's sailor hat, looking sad and sounding like... longing?? then directly after we switch to kenji realizing he forgot his hat?? the scene has no real significance tbh other than to draw a connection between ben and kenji. like, it acts as a transition to switch to the pov of the group on the boat, but it was entirely unnecessary? why not just have darius say something about the others and then show them on the boat? if there were no special relationship between ben and kenji, it would have made far more sense if they really wanted it to be ben to say something, that he sees the hat, and sadly says something along the lines of "i hope the others are okay/doing better than we are right now/etc" which implies that the hat made him think of everyone, their whole group. rather than what we got... which very much implies that he was mostly just thinking about kenji 💀 and then kenji thinking about the hat at the same time ben's looking at it and thinking of kenji. like, this is.... a very blatant connection being made by the writing/directing here.

all of that. so many deliberate connections made between ben and kenji, they had a very solid foundation laid for a romance to develop, and by all intents and purposes one already WAS developing according to the show's own subtext. which was why up until s4 obliterated the idea, i was positive the queer couple in the show was either going to be yasammy or benji. it was extremely obvious imo. but as soon we started getting the typical, loud, cliche "we are going to pair off these characters" scenes for kenji and brooklyn, i knew we were getting yasammy and not benji (to be clear, i'm not at all upset about yasammy, they're beautiful and i love how their relationship was done, i wouldn't have had it end any other way for them. but i do personally prefer benji, i just like their personalities and dynamic more. and i feel they had so much potential that got wasted to make way for a far less interesting pairing between kenji and brooklyn. why can't we have 2 queer couples, huh? and if we really needed a minimum of one hetero pairing to appease whoever needed appeasing, darilyn was right there).

but then??? their like entire bond just gets dropped (honestly ben himself gets pretty heavily sidelined for almost all of the last two seasons, which is criminal imo). mostly so that a rushed kenji x brooklyn can be established. like there are still a few small moments here and there in early s4, and one episode in s5 (ep 10), but from early s4 till pretty much the end of the series we hardly see them have any meaningful conversations or interactions, meanwhile literally every other combo in the group does.

it's so weird? why build up benji so deliberately over the course of multiple seasons just to like, fully discard it for a pairing with far less chemistry, even after the chemistry-building scenes they shared, some of which literally had no other purpose than to affirm their connection? even though they were very sparse, the moments benji had were just so blatant (kenji leaps into the rock crevice right onto the back of a saber tooth to save ben?!!?? like he literally was just willing to exchange his life for him like that?? he basically says that he wasn't really thinking, he just did it. so he moved out of what, emotional instinct, that's what we're meant to intuit from that series of events? implying that he specifically has strong emotion and doesn't think things through when it comes to ben? because he doesn't do that kinda stuff for any of the others in the group! even better, this parallels when sammy jumped on the nothosaurus to save yasmina. and then the way benji look at each other after it's over??? hello??? and then how kenji pulls both brooklyn and ben in for that hug a couple minutes later... side eyeing the writers for that choice. they knew what they were doing there and they were evil for it). i just can't see any reason to have dropped them like they were, after all the development they shared for 3 seasons. confounding. biggest disappointment of the series.

i know this probably reads to some as just "wahh, my ship didn't become canon" nonsense. but that's not why i'm bugged. this wasn't just a ship i liked and wanted canon despite no actual narrative support, as most ships tend to be. this ship did have narrative support. there was intent behind many of their scenes together, lingering looks and little things that matter narratively and are always used to signify a stronger/special connection. and it led nowhere, for no good reason. that bothers me. writing that implies and promises something, but never delivers on it. like a person who never finishes their sentences (think Dr McPhee from Night at the Museum). ultimately it's not a HUGE deal or anything, at the end of the day it's just a ship and just a kids' show. but as a writer, it's just irritating to see something like that be done. what can i say 🤷

conclusion

even despite the wasted potential between certain pairings, and even though i do think the first three seasons were superior to the last two, overall i really enjoyed the show, and for what it was, it was really well-made. the overarching focus was of course on found family and friendship before anything else, which i absolutely love, and it was masterfully done. out of 6 kids, all of them had at least one or two meaningful bonding moments one-on-one with another in the group, so every possible combination had their moment to build strong, believable friendships with each other. i'm just so surprised by how good it was as a whole honestly, good enough to binge over the course of a week. i will happily recommend jwcc to anyone willing to give it a watch regardless of age, because i definitely think there's no age limit for a good story, no matter the medium it's told in. :)

[flutteringfable]

just had someone completely out of the blue message me on genshin about how dori is problematic and a stereotype and how i could come off as racist for having her on my profile.

like. wow this is such shocking news!! hoyoverse not being good at poc characters and having lots of stereotypes??? i had noooo idea!! /sar

god forbid i enjoy media critically. explodes.

back to fontaine. i’m gonna sob.

[wyvspike]

Revisiting 123 TMAGP (CAT#) Theory

Spoilers for up to episode 16 of TMAGP.

It's been a couple of weeks since I first put together this theory for myself and I wanted to add on some thoughts. Spoilers below the cut!

Here is my updated spreadsheet:

I still feel like 1 / 2 / 3 definitely act as a categorical grouping which are not mutually exclusive, with the general theme of who / where / what respectively. But there is a bit of an inconsistency in which statements receive what categorical assignment.

To clarify categories as I interpret them:

"Who" in my mind defines an avatar, or a person who somehow has super natural abilities that are innate (and not a result of a "where" or a "what").

"Where" defines a location that either causes paranormal events, or attributes supernatural qualities to the people inhabiting that space (Pennine Tower, the garden in Infection). Looking back, this one is the one I'm a bit skeptical of now. Namely because there are two statements that I feel like still don't quite make much sense based on my personal interpretation of what a "where" is. I'll get into that in a moment.

"What" is a thing (physical, or something that you can interact with) that has supernatural traits. Saw somebody say that tattoos are hardly a thing and I disagree. It's on your skin. You can touch it, interact with it, right? Same thing with apps. I digress.

Now to talk about the inconsistencies.

Ink5oul: Episodes I'm referencing are 2, 11, and 16.

For a while, I had a theory that Ink was not an avatar and instead had a tattoo machine that was supernatural (maybe Oscar Jarrett, referenced by Ink in episode 11, has a tattoo machine that they now use or something). This would explain why they could be referenced in (and sometimes the direct cause of the events in the episode) without being considered a paranormal being. We also need to consider how their tattoos include alchemical symbols, which are clearly important in this universe. This aligns with the classifications we saw in relevant episodes.

Then we got episode 16, and now I'm a bit confused to be honest lol, because it's classified as a 1. Based on my theory that the tattoos were supernatural and were therefore classified as "3s," I'm a bit mystified by this one. So here are some explanations I have thought of (though I am sure there are other reasons):

Ink only "triggered" the classification because they were physically present. When comparing it to episode 2, they were not physically present when Daria started to change her appearance, and in episode 11, they played no (supernatural) role in the events that occurred.

Ink has become an actual avatar since the events that transpired in episode 2. There is enough of a time frame where this could have happened, and the timeline kind of makes sense? Episode 11, they obsess over the ocean tattoo and maybe they discover something about it — with alchemical symbols, a tool, I don't know — that causes them to begin their practice. Episode 2 they give a tattoo to Daria, and they're still not quite an avatar, but the tattoos sure as hell are supernatural (because of the alchemical symbols? an evil magic tattoo machine? i dunno). At this point, they would still be new at it, and this makes sense because Daria says, "They’re pretty popular these days," which implies that it's a recent thing. And now, by episode 16, they themself are an avatar.

Regardless, assuming ink is an avatar (and they don't carry a supernatural item such as the bone dice and viol-ence), I would still expect this episode to be classified as a 13 based on previous statements to account for the tattoo.

Inconsistent 2s: Episodes I'm referencing are 7 and 11 (again lol)

There are two statements that are classified with CAT#2 that I am uncertain about. I'll start with episode 7 — Hilltop Center.

I'll be honest, I definitely saw the name Hilltop and immediately made connections with TMA, and thought "it must be relevant." And when I first started to see the commonalities between statements and the three classifications, it technically fit right in – it's a place, isn't it, and a canonically significant one at that. But I feel like I may have gotten ahead of myself with the excitement from the reference. This is a different reality from TMA. The Institute is in Manchester now, why would the same qualities exist in Hilltop in this universe?

Now, while it is possible that Hilltop caused the events that occurred in episode 7, when you think about the content of the episode itself, it has more to do with "who" rather than "where." It starts with one person who is strange and uncanny who ends up bringing more and more of their "friends" who want to "help." This "person" seemed to have originated outside of this place. And the statement giver (aside from being, yknow, traumatised probably), is not affected / changed by any "supernatural" quality of the Center. So why is this episode classified as CAT#2??? I don't know.

For episode 11, I'm a little uncertain to how place is immediately relevant. 3 makes total sense — it's a weird creepy tattoo. But I feel like 2 is not immediately clear as to why it is important in this episode, but wait, okay now that I'm writing this sentence, episode 15 is started to give us a bit more to work with actually–

Okay NEVERMIND. New theory. Episode 11 being classified as CAT#23 makes total sense. The cemetery is located in Padstow, and is a place where lots of sailors were buried. In episode 15, Luke orders a beer called "Doom Bar," also from Padstow, named after the Doom Bar sandbank. On their site they wrote: "The sandbank is revered as a formidable nautical challenge that should be approached with respect and navigated with skill." So I guess, what I'm trying to say, is maybe this sandbank, this part of the coast, is supernatural in nature. But it's just not immediately clear why it's classified in that way and why it's included in this episode's classification number — we just always need more information.

Snakes: Episode I'm referencing is 14

Is the guy that vomits the snakes everywhere an avatar? Like, I'm not really sure. And the statement giver too, says she feels her throat get all weird. I guess maybe it's an infection? But does that count as a who or a what? I'm not sure.

Theories:

Finally, this brings me to the issue of how the hell these statements are categorized in the first place. Because we have inconsistencies. How can Transformation (full) -/- dysmorphic result in a CAT#3 and Transformation (snakes) -/- horde result in a CAT#1? "Dysmorphic" and "horde" are the cross reference so I feel like we can rule those out. "Full" and "snakes" are the subsections of transformation. So how do those two words result in different CAT#s?

So my current theory which is definitely a cop-out, hand wavey one because I have NO IDEA is that I feel like the tables and binder and cross reference stuff must, in some way, be supernatural because there's no way somebody created a system this...well, flexible? It would need to be constantly updating to accommodate new language (such as "influencer" since that is of the Internet Instagram Era), and seeing as FR3-D1 is an old ass system and the two seem closely related, I feel like the classification system can't be Normal.

Conclusion: I think the 1 / 2 / 3 - who / where / what (or any variation of it) has a lot of merit, I just think that, like all things in Protocol, there is more nuance than we can see at the moment. We just need to know more.

123 TMAGP (CAT#) Theory

So I haven't seen my theory about how the CAT# works on here so I'm not sure if anybody else has noticed this but I figured I should share! I'm pretty sure that whether a statement is labelled 1-2-3 defines what kind of content is paranormal in the episode.

EDIT: Spoilers below the cut

Here's my spreadsheet ordered by CAT# ("code" in the last column):

I noticed that when I put the statements in order of "code", the main focus of each episode had something in common. Looking at statements coded "1" I noticed that they all had to do with a person. Episode 6 -- Needles, Episode 10 and 12 -- Bonzo, and episode 1 "reanimation" was the zombie guy. Okay, so statements labelled with a 1 seem to have something to do with people.

Next set, the 2s. Episode 5 -- the cinema. Episode 7 -- Hilltop Centre. Episode 8 -- Pennine Tower. These episodes all have to do with place that are paranormal by nature.

Finally, the 3s: episode 2 -- a tattoo. Episode 4 -- the slaughter violin. Episode 9 -- bone dice. Episode 13 -- the app. These episodes all have an "artefact" of some kind, whether that be a physical object or something literally tattooed into someone's body, that doesn't seem to matter. It's some kind of thing or object.

Of course, as we've noticed, CAT#s have appeared as 1 / 2 / 3, but also as groups of numbers, such as 23 in episodes 1 and 11, and on the Klaus spreadsheet as 12 and 13. This indicates that statements with multiple types of paranormal presences can have multiple IDs. In the case of episode 1 "transformation," the Magnus Institute is the paranormal place, and the box might be the object. In episode 11, the graveyard and the tattoo are the two major appearances.

Here's my spreadsheet with who / where / what

I just thought it was cool! And the episodes seem to align with my theory the majority of the time (the only one i'm mildy uncertain about is episode 3, because that implies that the reason the guy turned into a tree was because of the place but it's been a while since i listened to that episode so maybe it makes sense lol).

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Frowny Face

Summary: Nobara and Itadori try to figure out the similarities between Megumi and his son. They manage to find that the infamous Zen'in frowny face is a dominant trait.

Tags: Megumi x F!Reader, Humor, Fluff, SFW, 1200 wc

Notes: I had this drafted for weeks. After seeing the epilogue and the grandkids, wish I had posted sooner, I felt there wasn't a more appropriate time for this. Happy belated-birthday 'gumi.

“No, no, look again, he definitely has his eyes,” Itadori points out.

Nobara lowers her face towards the baby currently blinking at the two of them from the comfort of his plush crib. Megumi stands off to the side, arms loosely crossed over his chest and an increasingly spreading scowl as his two friends, if he could call them that right now, poke and prod at his kid.

Nobara was the first one to point out how much his child was growing and starting to resemble his parents before noticing that his new emerging features leaned heavily to your side of the family, leading to this search to pick out their similarities.

“I’m not seeing it,” Nobara disagrees, failing to find the hint of dark blue that Itadori swears he can see in the baby’s right pupil. To her, all she can see is black all the way through both eyes, like the majority of the Zen’in clan geezers from those centuries old family books she helped Maki trash; unfortunately, this didn't include Megumi so they couldn't even count it. With a hand on her hip, she turns to Megumi. “Sheesh, he doesn’t resemble you at all. The misses really said copy and paste, huh?”  

Megumi huffs, about three seconds away from shooing them into the kitchen where you’re making dinner. That’s until Itadori pipes up, “Sure he does.” And for a second, Megumi thinks they’ll finally drop this silly discussion. “He has the same grumpy face his dad does.”

Megumi sighs. He should’ve known better.

“Now that you mention it,” Kugisaki can barely contain her laughter as she reaches into the crib and gently pinches a chubby cheek. Your son makes no expression at her playful squeeze or poke to his belly. His tiny legs kick the same way any other baby would when tickled, but the flat line on his face refuses to budge. “This is the least smiley baby I’ve ever seen,” she concludes while Itadori nods in agreement as he goes in to tickle the baby’s foot – just to make sure.

Megumi knows the two idiots don’t mean any harm by it, being the person to receive the brunt end of their jokes and observations over his life, the kind that can only be made out of innocent obliviousness and overconfidence, but he can’t help but feel more defensive when it’s his kid.

“Do you two have nothing better to do than to shame a baby?” he gripes. “It’s late, go home.”

“Oh, lighten up, we were only teasing. He’s adorable,” Nobara dismisses as she notes how much bigger her future-partner-in-crime has become over the past few months. Looking back on it, she can’t recall any time she’s heard him laugh or much of anything. Sure, she’s seen him get fussy while babysitting, but she’s rarely heard him cry. “But you have to admit he isn’t very expressive…for a baby,” she mentions with a hint of concern, concern that isn’t needed from Megumi’s point of view.

“Maybe you two just aren’t funny,” he says, watching the way Itadori attempts to get his son to laugh by making silly faces; it results in little more than a fist full of pink hair getting tugged.

“I’m being serious. I mean…” she tilts her head, trying to word it delicately. “Does he smile at all?”

Megumi nods. “He smiles.”

“Does he?” Itadori presses, craning his neck as he struggles to free his hair.

“He does,” Megumi repeats, his eyes softening at the memory of that innocent and joyful giggle he first heard like an unimaginable dream come true. “It’s just when you’re not around.”

Nobara rubs at the back of her neck apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean any offense by it. He’s a good baby,” she compliments before moving to help free Itadori’s hair from his iron-like grip. “And strong too,” she adds, looks at him, and clicks her tongue when she once again fails to find the bit of blue Itadori mentioned earlier, but it provides an opportunity to cut through the awkwardness they unwittingly created. She fakes a sigh. “Unlike your genes. I don’t think they even had a battle plan.”

“Very funny,” he puffs out between their chuckles then he hears another voice coming from the direction of the kitchen.

“That’s not true,” you say as you pad into the room with a milk bottle in hand, the grin on your face trembling as you try not to laugh with them. “They have a lot in common.” You begin to list off on your fingers. “They both like the same fruit and animals, he really likes books when you read to him, and do you think his hair maintains itself?”

Nobara breathes out an "oh" at your explanation. “So, he gets mom's good looks to balance out dad's aloof personality? Makes sense."

Your resistance breaks as you let out a giggle, ignoring the pout on your husband’s face. “Are you guys staying for dinner?”

“No, we should really get going,” Nobara states with a small yawn. “Mission reports won’t write themselves.”

You nod, handing Megumi the bottle of milk as you walk the others to the door and wave them off.

“Have a good night,” Itadori calls out while Nobara makes you promise to phone her tomorrow and to come hang out if you’re free.

Locking the door, you walk back in and head towards the crib.

“You really shouldn’t entertain them when they get like that," Megumi reminds you.

“You know they only do it to mess with you. It’s how they show they like you.”

“You mean they’re idiots.”

“Yet you open the door right up every time they come over.”

Megumi gives you a doubtful look. “Not by choice. It’d be like trying to stop a rampaging bull from barging in,” Megumi states, and you let out an amused huff. 

No matter how much he complains and comments that they haven't changed one bit after leaving school, he enjoys them. You remember how excited he seemed when Itadori called to ask if it was okay to pop in since they were nearby. Well, excited in that he immediately started to straighten out the house even though he had already cleaned earlier that morning. It's cute little quirks that often gives him away and the ones that make you like him even more.

“If it makes you feel better, I think you have a great personality and good looks,” you compliment with a brush of your hand over his hair. You look down at your son, who still seem unmoved by all the events of the evening. It makes you laugh because Nobara and Itadori were right. Your son does have Megumi’s ever-dull facial expression. 

“And both my boys have the cutest frowny faces,” you say, holding up your son to your face to nuzzle his nose. As you pull him away, your eyes brighten at the wide smile that flashes on his face followed by a warm giggle. “Hello to you too,” you coo and cuddle him again, causing another fit of giggles to fill the room, and the sound resonates in his chest and makes him forget any problems that arose on the way to getting to this point in his life.

“You forgot to tell them one thing,” Megumi says, coming forward to kiss your temple. As he told the others, his son does smile, and Megumi does too. “They both smile when they see mommy.”

[sinofwriting]

Horny Teenagers - Max Verstappen

Words: 1,189 Summary: If Max and her were only allowed to say one thing that people described them as, it would be horny teenagers. They disagree with that entirely, after all what’s wrong with having a healthy sex life? Note(s): Suggestive Themes, Slightly NSFW

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“Max, how do you feel about the most recent interview your team principal did?”

Max raises an eyebrow, not understanding the question from Olav.

“He described you and your girlfriend as horny teenagers.”

“I mean, I don’t see how we are. I think of it as us having a healthy sex life.” The words slip off his tongue before he can stop them and he can see Y/N just a few feet away cover her mouth at the Dutch words and he worries for a second but then sees her shoulders shaking with laughter.

—

“Red Bull is going to kill us.” She pants, her hand fisting the hair at the back of Max’s skull, his lips sucking a bruise into her neck.

“Like they’ve been threatening for two years?” He smirks, squeezing at her leg that’s wrapped around his waist and really he’s lucky she wore this dress, such easy access to everything he wants.

Her laugh turns into a moan as he grinds his hips into hers, eyes slipping shut.

“I just won my fourth championship. I think they can forgive this.”

Her free hand pulls at the waistband of his pants, fingers grazing over his bulge that’s pushing at his zipper. “You say that like we ever need an excuse to fuck in a club.”

“No, but it certainly helps.”

She hums, eyes opening and she can spot more than a few phones pointed at them and it’s really lucky that Max is so broad. They more than take risks, but Max would never let anyone see any part of her, always sure to press her face into his neck, hiding everything he can so he can greedily have it all for himself.

“Take me back to the hotel? I can’t congratulate you properly here.”

“Whatever you want, schat. Whatever you want.”

—

“You did amazing.” Her voice is nearly a shout and Max’s smile widens, eyes crinkling at the edges and his arms are wrapping around her waist, their lips pressing together.

Her hands immediately go to his face, feeling the flush of his cheeks, the slight sweat dripping from his brow. And she giggles against his lips as one of his hands moves to her ass, grabbing and pulling her closer. She nips at his bottom lip in revenge, breath hitching at the near growl he gives.

“You're getting it later.” He warns.

“Promise?”

He kisses her again. “As soon as I’m done with media.”

She watches him walk back over to where Charles and Oscar are, both shaking their heads at him, and she can see the resigned looks of most of the Red Bull team.

“Twenty seven and still playing grab ass.”

“Max is twenty-seven.” She corrects, smiling at GP and his amused expression.

“Oh yes, sorry, you're how old again?”

She shakes her head, nudging him slightly as they both watch Max step up to give his interview.

She sighs, continuing to watch him. “Winning looks so good on him.”

“I don’t need to hear that.”

“None of us do.” Rupert murmurs.

“Really starting to think you guys hate when I speak.”

“We do.”

GP nods, “Would really rather you didn’t. Don’t think I need to hear anymore about Max.”

“Your loss.” She sings, blowing Max a kiss as he looks over at her one last time before leaving for the cooldown room.

—

“Actually, before everyone goes, I wanted to let you all know some exciting news before we all see each other next time for preseason testing.”

Everyone in the room shares glances at Max’s words, the driver practically beaming.

“Y/N and I are expecting a baby.”

The room erupts in congratulations. People getting up and swarming and the driver and he laughs, accepting the pats on the backs and hugs.

“How is she doing?”

“She’s doing great. No morning sickness or anything, she’s thirteen weeks along, so we finally started telling people.”

“That’s amazing, really, Max. When is her due date?”

“August 17th. A bit fortunate with the new calendar, but babies have their own schedule, the doctor told us.”

“Thirteen weeks, huh?” GP asks.

Max nods and they can see his hand twitching to his wallet and they just know that he’s got an ultrasound or two in there.

“Vegas must have been a really nice celebration.”

Max laughs, a slight pink to his cheeks. “Well, the club was nice, but the hotel was much better.”

Groans escape from everyone in the room at the reminder of all the pictures and videos that had flooded social media from that night, but they all can’t help exchange looks, more than happy for the driver but also finally, finally it would mean a break from the nightmare that was Max and Y/N together and their constant horniness.

—

Rupert looks in horror at Max’s back.

“What happened?”

Max looks over his shoulder at him, bending to get a shirt before sliding it on. “What do you mean?”

“Your back is shredded.”

“You say that like it’s the first time.”

He splutters, running a hand over his face. “No, but Y/N’s pregnant.”

“And?”

“You two are still having sex.”

Max laughs, slapping him on the back. “You do know that doctors actually encourage that right? It’s good, apparently. And what you thought that just because she was pregnant we’d stop? It’d take more than that.”

Rupert watches Max leave in horror.

—

“Max,” At the sound of his name, he looks away from Charles’ phone that displayed a picture of Leo. “I just wanted to offer my congratulations on the news of you and Y/N expecting a baby and was wondering if you could stamp out a rumor of sorts.”

“Thank you and a rumor? We are talking about rumors again? So early in the season.”

A few reporters laugh.

“It is quite early. This has to do with a report that apparently last weekend your hotel room in Bahrain was vandalized. Broken mirror, torn pillows and such.”

Max coughs, trying not to laugh as he sees actual concern on the reporter's face. “No, nothing like that happened. Just, uh, a little overexcited so to speak.”

Charles lets out a laugh that he quickly turns into a cough when feeling his press officer glare at him.

“Mate.” He murmurs.

Max smiles, dropping the microphone back in his lap as Tom changes the subject, asking Jack something. “Well if I said any more I’d get fined.”

“I can imagine.” And Charles’ gaze softens. “I know I’ve said it already but congratulations. You and Y/N will make excellent parents.”

Max’s smile widens. Charles had been the first driver to text him to offer his congratulations, and his repetitiveness of offering them was nice. It was good being so close with Charles after their rocky karting years. “Thank you, Charles. I’m starting to think you want to be in the running for godfather.”

“Oh, absolutely. If not, I better be known as uncle Charles. I’m offering piano, Italian, and karting lessons.”

“Fucker.” Max mumbles at the last one with an amused look and small nod before turning his attention back to Tom.

[love-belle]

every dead end street led you straight to me !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which no one knows how they're both each other's daylight.

or

for when you find the one you were meant to find all along. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // f1 drivers x platonic!driver!fem!reader // milo manheim x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - i am SO sorry for leaving u all but i had my finals going on and now i am DONE with school i just have my college entrance exams left and then im free free FREEEEEE !!!! i love u all sm thank you <333 i hope u like this !!

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by milomanheim, lewishamilton, carmenmmundt and 2,528,519 others

yourusername me n baby boy

edit : he says it's baby MAN i disagree ☝️‼️

11,528 comments

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, alex_albon and 2,157,816 others

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10,996 comments

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*this comment was deleted*

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

yourusername added to their close friends' stories

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by milomanheim, maxverstappen1, lilymhe and 2,517,986 others

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11,962 comments

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 2,317,637 others

milomanheim something about how taylor swift said every dead end street led u straight to me 💘

tagged yourusername

11,628 comments

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by milomanheim, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux and 2,785,159 others

yourusername if the whole world was watching i'd still dance with u

tagged milomanheim

12,628 comments

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*liked by yourusername*

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charles_leclerc how is this relationship gonna work when none of you has the guts to go and say that they got your order wrong

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-> yourusername i would sacrifice max for u

-> milomanheim doesn't mean that much bc i know u would sacrifice him for a juice box

-> maxverstappen1 OH REALLLLLLLLY

milomanheim angel 🍒

-> yourusername no u

milomanheim u make me feel all golden like daylight

-> yourusername u make me feel all i like shiny things but i'd marry u with paper rings

-> username bye y'all this was fun

-> username brb i need to test if my toaster is waterproof or not

[emptywwwriting]

Brat

Paring: Joel Miller x reader

Summary: After you make a stupid call and get you and Joel into a bad situation he teaches you a lesson

or

Joel fucks some sense into you over a table.

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, Joel is mean, Joel calls you names, reader is high on pain pills lowkey but everything is consented to, it makes sense I promise just read, Joel pushes you around, age gap

WC: 2.5k

A03: Brat

Notes: This is nasty asf im so sorry, feel free to leave feed back. also send asks if u have ideas for future fics. Anyways I have had this written but unpolished for a while, and im lowkey unmotivated with my age gap Jackson fic rn so I wanted to give y'all something until then

Edit: I finally edited it! i hope it sounds a little better, and tysm for notes :)))

“What the fuck is your problem?” Joel yells slamming the door harshly behind him.

“My problem? What the fuck?” You throw your bag down in defeat. 

“We could have brought back all that fucking supplies and you just blew it all up.” You’re yelling at him now.

“Yeah,” He huffs. “real good it would have done us dead!” He's taking steps towards you.

Your throat tightens.

“That loss was on fucking you. We could have just slid by and not started nothin’, now we're down on supplies even more and you have a fuckin hole in your side.” He’s seething and growing closer.

“Yeah, I would've had a real good fix if you had listened to me!” You're shaking, and taking steps towards him, finger in his face.

It's a screaming match, but you're losing steam, the wound on your side is manageable but painful, the stitches pull at your skin and you're still a little dizzy from the blood loss, but the pain pills Joel had shoved in your mouth should kick in any moment.

You and Joel had just stumbled into the middle of a hunter's base while traveling. It was filled with supplies like ammo, guns, and food. The two of you disagreed on whether to get the supplies or not, Joel thought it was too risky but you disagreed. Your stubbornness led to a massive shootout, and shortly after the first shot was fired, the two of you were cornered. Joel had to throw a pipe bomb, which inevitably killed the hunters and blew the supplies to pieces. You barely escaped the fight after a bullet grazed your side. Now you were left with no ammo or supplies, and a pissed-off Joel.

“Listen to you?” He retorts, shocked. “You nearly got us killed!” He's gaining on you, backing you into the wall.

“I was thinking ahead! If you would have just followed me and not made a fuss, we would have been fine!” Your voice starts to falter as his tall frame devours you.

“Thinking ahead my ass, you were only thinkin’ bout yourself!” He furiously spat. 

You back up slowly, as he continues to yell. You can't think of anything else to say, and your throat feels raw. His eyes are filled with rage, brows pinched together tightly. His hand lands on your shoulder, and with a firm shove, your back instantly hits the wall. Before you can process what happened, his hand flies up, grasping your jaw harshly and pulling your head to look up at him.

“If you’re gonna act like a fuckin’ idiot again, don't drag me down with you.” He says carefully. 

His chest is rising and falling quickly fighting aginst the constaints of his flannel The breath has been ripped from your lungs as you stare up at him anticipaitingly. You can't break eye contact, and silence is starting to take over, only both of your heavy breathing fills the air. His eyes are black, staring so deep into your own you feel like you can't hide anything. His grip on your jaw loosens, only for a moment before you are yanked towards him. His lips crash into yours messily, capturing you in a violent kiss. His body is pushed into yours, knee slotting in between your legs, pressing you even further back into the wall. You feel his teeth graze your lips, biting and nipping at anything he can. You try to keep up with the frantic kiss, but can't. His hands move from your jaw to your neck, to your shoulder and back, like he doesn't know where to go. Your own are frozen at your side, balled into fists. The fast pace is bruising and your jaw begins to ache from his force. 

His lips leave yours, as he brings your head up further craning it. Just as you are finally able to take a breath, he reconnects to your neck. Sucking on every inch of skin he can, it's fast and almost narotic, anamiliostic even, but it doesn't stop you from trying to squeeze your legs together. His bites become more harsh and you can't help but let out weak groans. He pushes his knee up into you more and your legs go numb. Your mouth is wide open, eyes screwed shut.

Joel is littering kisses and merciless bites down the column of your neck, hands feeling feverishly up and down your sides.

He trails to your collarbone, biting it gently then making his way back up. He kisses his way to your jaw and over to your ear before standing up completely. His leg disappears from under you and you have to catch yourself from falling.

Looking down at you, his eyes are still dark.

“Go stand in front of the table.” His voice sounds scratchy and out of breath. 

You stare at him blinking dumbly trying to make sense of everything that just happened. Your mouth opens to say something, but the thought is lost as soon as it had come to you. His hair is disheveled, sleeves are rolled up exposing his aged yet muscular forearms. He is so tall and so brooding, it's so terrifyingly attractive. Something about his rage is just turning you on more and you know its wrong but it feels so good.

“You stupid or sumthin’?” He sounds mean, so condescending, and normally his talking down on you enrages you, but right now, everything in your head wants more of him. His kisses, his smell, the way his knee felt pushing up against your most sensitive part, you feel high.

He tilts his head at you warningly, and you slowly push yourself off the wall and walk shakily over to the table in the middle of the dusty room. You place your hands on the edge of the table standing up straight and facing away from Joel. It's quiet for a minute before you hear the thudding of his boots growing closer to you. They stop just behind you and you're shoved over the table by a rough hand. You whine at this quietly, hands braced against the surface. Once again he makes contact with your back, pushing you slowly yet firmly into the piece of furniture, forcing your arms out to the side of you.

“You’re a fuckin’ brat.” His hands trail their way to your hips squeezing long and hard, pulling them against his own. He's kneading the flesh, you feel his eyes burning holes into you.

“Just a stupid kid, thinkin’ you always know what's best.” He trails off and starts pulling your jeans down and over your ass slowly. The cold air of the room gives you chills and you attempt to push your legs together.

You turn your head to the side.

“N-not a kid.” You are barely able to get out, your lungs still feel empty.

His hand makes contact with your now bare ass. Not hard, but enough to make you close your mouth.

“Shut it.” He's serious.

He sighs and continues.

“You're cocky, and young...” He pauses for a moment, maybe second guessing himself about to fuck a twenty year old girl, the same thought crosses your mind but neither of you really care at this point.

Your head is spinning out of control, a slight nausous feelings seeps into your gut when you suddenly recall the three multi-colored pills Joel had given you earlier. Your stomach drops for only a moment before you recognize the euphoria flooding your brain. 

You barely notice the sound of Joel’s belt buckle coming undone.

“Should have listened to me ya know,” He says, grabbing your ass firmly and pulling it away from the table, and snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“I've kept you safe for how many months now?” He grunts, prodding your entrance.

You gasp.

He leans to the side and makes eye contact with you.

“Listen to me next time and maybe you won't have a fuckin’ hole in your stomach again.” He stands back up straight again.

“Mhm sorry-” Your apology is empty, you feel like you're melting into the table, and all you can think about is the feeling of his dick at your hole. You're not really sorry, your just sorry hes not already in you.

You know this, and he knows this.

“Yeah, sorry don't cut it no more. Think you can look all pretty at me and I'll forgive you? I'm done with that shit.” He thrusts into you so suddenly you yell, or at least you think you do, but you're too dizzy and the feeling of his cock deep inside is all you can feel. He's saying something but you can't hear anymore, your eyes are shut and all you know is the weight of him inside you. His touch is like a mantra in your head.

Joel Joel Joel Joel

He pulls back quickly, then slowly sinks into you again. You're moaning over each inch, unable to do anything but take it. He pushes your ass apart, and pulls out slightly, sinking back in once more. He repeats this slowly a few more times, mesmerized by the sight of you sucking him in. Your moans come out strangled, and you stumble over incoherent words.

“I always take care of you right?” His voice is low. His hands go to your hips again and continue at a slow pace. The wet sound is so disgustingly loud, that it makes you cringe, but just as with every other thought, it is quickly blurred. Your brain is foggy with lust, and probably the painkillers, but that doesn't matter right now, nothing but this amazing feeling inside of you matters.

You moan in response. He huffs out a laugh.

“You're never this compliant, this what I have t’do to make you listen?” His hands squeeze you harder.

You hum so brokenly in response he almost feels bad, but the way you're gripping around him lulls him in further, there's no going back now.

“Gon' be real good for me?” His southern drawl drips off of every word he says. 

“Let me take care of you like I always do. You be a good girl and keep layin’ here.” You go to speak but your words die in your throat when he slams into you again. 

His pace quickens so fast you can't move anymore. Your eyes are now wide open staring across the empty room, mouth open moaning non stop. He is hitting something so devastating inside of you that your knees go weak and hang loosely over the table. He's grunting, with each thrust, lost in the way you feel.

“Fuck, so good. Feels so good.” He's breathless, holding onto your bruised hips for dear life.

“Shoulda' done this months ago.” He slurs.

The thought of Joel fucking you, in the truck, in the woods, in dilapidated houses, really anywhere, is making the blood rush to your head. Your neglected clit is throbbing needily, and your stomach is beginning to tighten.

Your walls squeeze around him and his pace falters for a moment as he lets out a strangled moan, he sounds like he's in pain. You on the other hand are just yelling at this point, weak moans lace everything that comes out of your mouth. Your arms are gripping the flat surface as much as possible, bracing yourself against his violent movements. The coil tightens and you feel your orgasm approaching.

An “Oh god” leaves your mouth but it's so slurred and desperate it doesn't feel real.

“Come on baby girl.” He angles his hips down and you're blinded by the feeling. 

“Fuckin’, god... Brat. Come all over me.” He sounds breathless, yet still furious. 

You're so high on his everything, that the words only push you further and further over the cliff, and suddenly your whole body tenses so unbelievably tight you can't move. Your hips stutter back against Joel, locking him inside of you. He's sputtering your name, mixed with Fuck’s and You feel so good’s.

Your insides clamp down on him and he stops moving completely, now just grinding his hips into yours weakly. Each wave tightens your body even more than the last, it goes on for what feels like forever. Eventually, the final surge passes and you melt into the table, completely limp. Your senses are numb, and all you can feel is Joel's dick jerking in you rhythmically.

He must have come but you were so overwhelmed by your own orgasm you didn't even notice. He's breathing hard above you, your body is coated in sweat, soaking through your shirt. Slowly your feelings come back. Joel finally releases your hips and pulls out of you gradually. The feeling is deflating, and you feel even smaller than before. Your hole flutters around nothing, but you can't move off the table still. You feel Joel staring at you, and then you feel it start to trickle out of you, shame floods your mind and your face goes red. You feel him bend down to grab the jeans that were still hanging off your ankles, pulling them up and over your ass again. The dampness of his cum makes you shift slightly, and you try to push yourself up off the table. When you do your vision goes black, and you hesitate not wanting to pass out on him right after he fucked you.

Slowly now you stand, legs trembling under your weight. The euphoria of the painkillers is coursing through your body so intensely, that you had forgotten about the wound. Reaching down to feel it, it was dry still not bleeding. 

That's surprising.

You turn to see Joel gathering his things from around the room, and throwing his backpack over his shoulder. He's running his hands nervously through his hair.

How does he look so composed?

Your hair is tangled and messy, dried tears crust your face, and your jeans are still not buttoned and unzipped.

“Get your stuff.” He says quietly, timidly, and not making eye contact.

He wants to leave now?

“We’re not-, I can't even-” You stutter, shocked at how he expects you to be able to walk back to the truck in this state.

“Get  your   stuff.” He says again, giving you a warning glance. 

You blink at him, you're dizzy and weak, everything is sore in the best way possible but you genuinely don't feel like you can walk. You struggle over to your backpack and scoop it off the floor, putting it on. When you look up Joel has already opened the door and is scouting the area, making sure no one is in sight. Once clear he steps out, holding the door for you. You walk slowly, limping over to him not looking him in the eye, you're too embarrassed to. When you step outside he closes the door and begins walking in the direction of the truck. You feel frail and the idea of the half-mile walk back makes you feel even more fatigued. He seems weirdly unbothered by everything that just happened, while you on the other hand are a wreck. 

The whole way back, you stumble after Joel, underwear uncomfortably wet. 

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Ten.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Eleven. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - The two of you have some time to yourselves for what feels like the first time in forever.

Pairing - Dadsbestfriend!Bucky Barnes x female reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. mention of a panic attack. initial hospital setting. one alcohol mention.

Word Count - 4k

Authors Note - 10!! 10 whole chapters!! can you believe it!! pancake recipe taken from mr carlos sainz - thanks carlito <3. double date next chapter (with protective/jealous bucky, as requested ;)). and the much awaited conversation… coming very soon. thanks for the love and support and kindness. it means the world, always <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

“Before I came down to find you, your Mom raised a question with me.”

“… which was?”

He takes a deep breath. Exhales it shakily.

“She asked me how long you and I have been soulmates.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“We can’t sit out here forever, honey.”

You stretch out your legs from where they’ve been tucked up against your chest, chin resting on your knees. Bucky places a hand on your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle circles.

“We can.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss into the top of your head.

“I know it’s scary, but we can’t run from this any longer. We’re just going to have to face it head on.”

“I know,” you sigh, taking his hand in yours. “I’m just…”

You trail off, leaving words unspoken in the air like particles of dust in the sunlight.

“What are you so afraid of? Is it that they won’t support us? Honey girl, they aren’t gonna have much of a choice. We are literally soulmates.”

You’re trying to find a way to explain, but none of your thoughts are coherent enough to articulate into something comprehensible.

“I don’t know, Buck. At first, I think it was that. But now? Maybe I just feel guilty that we’ve kept something so huge a secret for so long. I used to tell my parents everything - by choice. That’s how we’ve always been. And suddenly, the biggest event of my life happens, and I… didn’t tell them?”

“You’re letting this guilt eat you alive, baby. Listen, I feel it too. You’re not alone in this. Do you know how many times your parents have asked me about dating in these last eighteen months? How many times we’ve talked about soulmates? And I guess I never lied… but I haven’t exactly told the truth. I’m just as guilty as you think you are.”

“I’m sorry,” you confess, resting your head against his broad shoulder. “I’ve had such tunnel vision with this whole situation. I’ve been selfish. I should have thought about you more.”

“You haven’t had to.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for, honey baby. You’ve never had to ‘think about me more’, because you’ve known how I felt this whole time. In here.”

He places a hand over your heart. You close your eyes, letting the warmth from his palm bleed into your chest. The weight of it grounds you back down to Earth, tethered to your soulmate in more ways than one.

“That’s the beauty of it,” he continues. “You don’t have to guess how I’m feeling, or when I’m feeling it - because I’m always telling you. And you’re always listening.”

“I don’t deserve you,” you whisper, squeezing his hand where it’s still linked with yours.

“The Universe disagrees,” he whispers back, leaning in to kiss the spot underneath your ear. “I disagree.”

It’s all so tender, so gentle, so real, that a lump in your throat forms instantly. You blink rapidly, fighting back tears as you press your side into his. If you could sew yourself into his ribcage and live there forever, resting your head on his beating heart, you would.

“Come on,” he coaxes carefully, pulling you to your feet and watching to see if you’re steady enough. “Let’s do this thing.”

You stare up at him, lost in those ocean blue irises. For a moment, you swear you see the waves moving in them, crashing against the shore in a motion so comforting, it reminds you of home.

“I love you.”

Bucky smiles at you, pupils dilating and heart beating that little bit faster. He’ll never get sick of hearing those words.

“I love you more than all the stars in the sky, honey girl. More than anything.”

Tangling your fingers with his, you inhale deeply before taking the first step forwards, towards the front doors of the hospital.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When you reach your Dad’s room, you drop Bucky’s hand as if by instinct. When he links your fingers once more, you panic momentarily, before realising it’s futile.

They already know. There’s no point in hiding it anymore.

You walk through the door hand in hand, pressed into each others sides as if it’ll keep you standing upright. Maybe it will.

Your Mom instantly bolts out of her chair, coming over to assess you. She looks you up and down, cradling your face in her hands as she checks you over.

“You were gone a long time, sweetheart. You okay? Have you been crying?”

Bucky lets go of you to give you some space, but doesn’t go too far. You can still feel his warmth from behind you as you watch your Mom’s eyebrows furrow with worry.

“I had… I think it was, um… like a - a panic attack, or something. I don’t know. I just got overwhelmed.”

Your voice sounds so small again, so fragile. You mentally chastise yourself for not being stronger for her.

“Oh, honey.”

She pulls you into her chest, stroking your hair just like she did when you were a child and had a nightmare. You’d run across the hall and into your parents room - your Mom would always bolt upright when she heard little feet on the wooden floors, waiting for you with open arms.

“Your Dad is gonna be fine. I promise you, the Doctors have said he’ll make a full recovery.”

“It’s true.”

The voice is croaky and rusted from misuse, but it unmistakably belongs to the man lying in the hospital bed.

You make your way over and sit down carefully, cautious and calculated. Your Dad takes your hand, stroking his thumb across your skin.

“I’m gonna be just fine, kid. I know I scared you, and I’m really sorry. But I’m okay. Promise.”

You smile at him, genuinely this time, before leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You guys should go home.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Go home, get some rest. The two of you look almost as exhausted as Lori does.”

Your Mom laughs, shaking her head. You chuckle, watching them. There’s no one funnier than your soulmate.

“I think we should stay a little longer, Jack.”

Bucky’s voice has all three of your heads whipping around to face him.

“Buck, please be on my side here. You’re tired. Go home, sleep it off. All I’m gonna do for the next twenty four hours is sleep anyway. There’s no point in you sitting here watching me like a bunch of creeps.”

You chew your bottom lip, watching your Dad’s face carefully.

“Mom, Dad - we need to talk about-”

“I know, babygirl,” your Dad interrupts. “And we will. But not here, and not now. We’ll do it when I’m home. We can all sit on the couch and drink your Mom’s cherry lemonade and talk about how you and Bucky have been soulmates this entire time.”

“Not this entire time,” you grumble at his attempt at a joke.

“Seriously, you two. I won’t ask again. Go. Home.”

You look at your Dad for a moment, before averting your gaze to your Mom. They’re both wearing the exact same facial expression - the one they used to give you when you’d refuse your bedtime as a six year old on a school night.

“Come on, honey. You heard them. We’re practically dead on our feet.”

You rise from the bed reluctantly, pressing another kiss to your Dad’s cheek before doing the same to your Mom.

“Call me if anything changes, or if you need anything. I mean anything, you guys.”

They both nod as your Dad does a mock salute, laughing at himself.

Bucky extends his hand out for you. This time, you don’t hesitate to take it. You hold it tightly all the way back to his truck, and then all the way back home.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You and Bucky get ready for bed in silence, both of you flitting around your apartment as quickly as possible. You can’t wait to finally get under your duvet and lose the stress of the last twenty four hours.

The minute your head hits the pillow, you’re wide awake.

The exhaustion has seeped into your bones, making you weary but restless. You can’t settle, physically or mentally.

Bucky, on the other hand, is out like a light.

He looks so peaceful like this. The moonlight soaks through a gap in the curtains, illuminating his face like some sort of angel. His hair is a little longer than usual, stubble growing out across his sharp jawline. He looks rugged, a little rough around the edges. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

As if he can feel your gaze on him, he cracks an eye open, blinking to adjust to the dimly lit room. He has a pillow crease across his skin, cheek flushed pink with a dusty blush.

“You okay, baby?”

His voice is hoarse and all sleep heavy, rumbling through you like gentle summer thunder.

“Can’t sleep,” you whisper, trying to fight back tears. “I’m so tired, Buck. So fucking tired.”

“But you can’t sleep?”

He pulls you into his chest, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and stroking your hair soothingly.

“It’s like my body is exhausted, but my brain is wide awake,” you mumble into his bare skin. “Doesn’t make sense.”

“Nothing makes sense,” he chuckles lowly. “Nothing in this goddamn world makes sense. Except for me and you.”

Bucky spins you in his arms so your back is to his chest, bodies pressed together without an inch of space between you. Pressing a kiss into your neck, he starts mumbling.

“You just need to turn your brain off, baby. I know it’s easier said than done… so I’m gonna help you. All you need to do is focus on my voice, on my touch. Focus your attention on my hands on you, my lips on your skin. The heat of my body against yours.”

He skims his fingers down your side, gripping at your hips to ground you. He’s still kissing your neck, nipping occasionally to vary the sensation. He slips a hand down your front, cupping you over your underwear as you close your eyes, breathing him in. He smells like salt water and sea air and gasoline and home.

You cant your hips into his touch, trying to get him where you want him. Bucky takes the hint, slipping his hand into your panties and running a finger through your wetness. You groan, throwing your head back into his solid shoulder.

“Just switch off, honey baby. Give in to me.”

Bucky glides a finger into you, crooking it towards him. His palm hits your clit and you keen, whining all high pitched and breathy. His hips buck into your backside at the sound, and he chuckles.

“Fuck, you sound so sweet. Sweetest girl in the world.”

He adds another finger, using his thumb to circle your clit in precise, firm motions. You’re writhing against the mattress like a serpent, unable to stay still as Bucky takes you apart.

“Come for me, baby. Can feel you squeezin’ my fingers. That’s it, atta girl… ride my hand, take what you need. Wanna hear how pretty you sound when you come.”

Your entire body tightens up as you reach your climax, back arching away from Bucky as he continues to curl his fingers. He pulls you close, anchors you to him as you moan and shudder.

Your head is empty, besides the thought of your soulmate. All you can think about is Bucky.

Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky Bucky.

You take a stuttered inhale as you try to catch your breath, beads of sweat dripping down your back.

“You okay?”

He’s muttering into your shoulder, mouth never leaving your skin. You nod, linking your fingers with his where they rest on your waist.

“You didn’t come,” you whisper, leaning your head back into Bucky.

He kisses your cheek, chuckling lowly.

“This wasn’t about me,” he reassures. “It’s all about you, baby. Always is.”

The two of you breathe together for a little while, allowing you to come down from your high. Eventually, Bucky taps your thigh, nudging you up.

“Come on, honey. Get up and use the bathroom, and then we’ll sleep for the next week.”

You do as he says, crawling back into bed with limbs that feel like jelly.

“How you feelin’?” he asks as he pulls you into his side, resting your head on his chest.

“Fucking fantastic.”

He laughs and you can’t help but laugh too, as if by reflex.

“Yeah? No more racing thoughts in that pretty head of yours?”

“None. All I can think about is how much I want to sleep right now.”

Pressing a kiss onto the top of your head, Bucky tightens his arms around you.

“Then sleep, baby.”

You snuggle into your soulmates side, relaxing into the mattress.

“I love you,” you mumble into his skin.

“I love you,” he murmurs back. “Sweet dreams, honey girl.”

✵  ���    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When you wake, you can’t tell if you’ve slept for five minutes or five days.

The sheets are crumpled, linen strewn across the bed as the pillows sit completely unmoved at the headboard. Sunlight filters in through the curtains, warming your skin that’s exposed to the sea soaked breeze.

You reach over to the other side of the mattress, seeking Bucky’s warmth. You’re met with empty space, and the sound of a throat clearing on the other side of the room.

The man in question is leaning against the doorframe, shirtless and sun kissed. His boxers are hugging his thighs just right, and you repress the urge to crawl over and sink your teeth into the muscle. Later.

“Morning or afternoon?” You croak out, watching as he softly smiles at your sleep addled voice.

“Morning. Eleven twenty four.”

You stretch your arms above your head, unaware of the way Bucky’s eyes are glued to your bare stomach.

“You want breakfast, or have you eaten?”

“Haven’t eaten yet. Was waiting for you.”

You slide down to the end of the bed where Bucky meets you, leaning down to press a minty kiss to your lips.

“Have you been awake long?”

He shakes his head, stealing another kiss.

“Ten minutes or so.”

“How’d you sleep?”

He moves some hair away from your face gently, the morning affection making you light up inside.

“Like a baby. Don’t think I moved once.”

You laugh, running your fingers over his bare shoulders.

“I can’t remember the last time I slept like that.”

“Me neither. I think we need to start prioritising sleep a little more.”

“It’s just… so hard,” you murmur, rising onto your knees on the bed so you’re face to face. “I don’t ever want to sleep when I have the most handsome man alive in my bed. I can think of many other things I’d rather be doing.”

He groans, chuckling lowly.

“Watch it,” he warns. “Or I’ll keep you in this bed all day. Won’t let you leave.”

“Is that a threat or a promise, Barnes?”

He football tackles you suddenly, both of you falling backwards into the plush sheets. You squeal, caught off guard as his hands squeeze your sides firmly.

“Keep running your mouth and see what happens, angel.”

You card your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly to get a reaction. When his eyes flutter closed, you breathe out a laugh.

“I’m so scared,” you tease, peppering his face with gentle kisses. “Like, quaking in my boots.”

He goes to retort, but is interrupted by the deafening sound of your stomach rumbling.

“If we weren’t about to get noise complaints from the neighbours about that hunger of yours, I would absolutely continue this. But…”

“We need to eat.”

“Yes, we do.”

You peck his cheek before jumping off the bed, stretching as you make your way to the kitchen. Bucky follows you eagerly. Of course he does.

You click the coffee maker on as you spin to face him where he’s leaning against the counter.

“I’m about to make you the best pancakes you’ll eat in your entire life, James.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Watch and learn, baby.”

When he doesn’t move, you walk him backwards, pulling out the bar stool from underneath the island.

“You just sit there and look pretty.”

He shakes his head with a smirk as you wink, turning on the stove and grabbing your bowls and utensils. He didn’t ask for a cooking lesson, but you’re about to give him one.

“The trick is to separate the egg whites from the yolks, and whip them. When they’re fluffy, you fold them into your mixture, and it makes the pancakes light and airy and gorgeous. Then you add honey, for extra sweetness.”

He watches you flit around the kitchen as if you’re the sun, bright and warm and radiant. He can’t take his eyes off you for a second. He couldn’t if he wanted to.

Bucky’s blinking back tears, suddenly, as you sway your hips while flipping the pancakes at the stove. He wants to drop to his knees, yell out to a higher power and ask what the hell he did to deserve someone like you. He’ll beg, if he has to, for someone, something, to make sure that he finds you in every universe, in every version of this crazy life.

“I love you,” you beam at him, as if you’ve read his mind. “I love you more than anything.”

Your grin is so blinding, so utterly brilliant that the entire room lights up with it. Your own form of electricity.

“I… I-”

“I know, Buck.”

It gets like this, sometimes. Too overwhelming to put into words. To love someone more than anything, anyone - a love that knows no bounds - is completely indescribable.

So he doesn’t even try. He just nods at you, watching as your eyes light up at the sight of him.

“Will you pour us some coffee while I put these on a plate?”

“Anything you need,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair as he squeezes past you to grab the mugs. “Always.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You settle down to eat on the balcony, letting the midday sun warm you both up.

“I brought syrup, but, I also brought this.”

You hold out a plastic tub that contains a dark pink mixture, popping the lid off.

“Try it.”

Bucky sticks his little finger in, putting it in his mouth and sighing in contentment at the taste that coats his tongue.

“Good?”

“So good. What is it?”

“My homemade raspberry and lemon coulis. I make it to go on top of pancakes and waffles - it beats maple syrup any day.”

“You’re a genius.”

“So it’s been said,” you laugh, pouring it over your plate. “Now eat before they go cold.”

“Yes ma’am.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You weren’t lying,” he says when he’s finished. “They were the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten.”

You laugh, sliding across to press your side into his.

“There’s a lot more where that came from. I have so many recipes I want you to try.”

“God, I’m so lucky. I have the most perfect soulmate in the world, and she’s a baker. What did I do to deserve you, hmm?”

You lean in to kiss him gently, licking across his lips. He tastes like raspberries and sugar and eight hours of sleep.

You’re sat in comfortable silence when your phone rings, startling you both.

“Hello?”

“Babe?”

“Lacie?”

“Hey!”

“Hi!”

You smile instantly, and Bucky does too, by default.

“Your Mom called me and told me about your Dad. She’s been keeping me updated over text. How are you guys holding up?”

“We’re good, honestly. It was a little touch and go at first, but now… we’re okay. All of us.”

“Good. I love you guys.”

“Love you too. So much.”

She sighs all deep and wistful, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“What’s up, Lace?”

“Well… I’m calling with a proposition. And I feel like you’re gonna say no, but your Mom already told me that I had to force you to do it, so.”

“Oh, God.”

“Come on a double date with me and Cameron tonight. Come for dinner and drinks with us.”

You take a deep breath, looking over at Bucky. He nods in agreement, encouraging you.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

Her surprise is undeniable, the octave of her voice rising ever higher.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you in too long, and it’ll be good for me to meet Cameron, finally. Plus, we’re visiting my Dad this afternoon, so we have a free evening.”

“Oh my God, I am so excited! Okay, I’ll text you the address of where we’re eating. Cam knows so much about you already, he can’t wait to meet you. And I can’t wait to meet Bucky… again? I mean I’ve met him before, but not as your soulmate.”

“Yeah,” you giggle. “It’ll be good for everyone to get… reacquainted.”

“Exactly!”

“Alright, Lace. We’ve gotta get ready to visit my Dad, but I’ll see you later?”

“See you later, babe. I am so excited. See you then!”

She puts the phone down, and you can almost picture the cloud of perfume and pressed powder that’s about to rain down on her bedroom. You wish you were there to watch it happen, like old times.

“Our first double date, huh?”

“It’ll be our last if you don’t behave,” you tease, leaning in to peck Bucky’s lips.

“Don’t tempt me.”

You laugh into his mouth, running your fingers through the ends of his hair at the back of his neck. It’s the longest you’ve seen it, and it’s starting to curl all cute and soft and wispy.

“Come on. Let’s go see my Dad, and then spend hours mentally preparing ourselves for Storm Lacie.”

“I always liked her. Seemed good for you.”

“She is. She’s the best.”

Bucky wraps a strong arm around your shoulder as you swing your legs over his lap, burying yourself in his bare chest.

“You nervous?” he asks into your temple.

“A little, weirdly. Meeting each others soulmate is the kind of thing we’d talk about when we were kids. And now we’re doing it.”

“We can handle it,” he reassures, his thumb rubbing patterns into your arm. “We can handle anything, you and I.”

“Anything?”

“Anything, honey girl. Anything.”

tag list part one

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

[everything-is-as-it-was]

Just rewatched the first (!!) pizza mukbang video and Oh God I Am So Fond of This Work of Art. (this is a long one sorry!!)

Does it ever occur to you... they owned their house at this time. They were building it. They knew they were going to own their phorever home together. god

Dan knew he was going to come out. That was his next big project. The fact that he even talks about how he's (at that time) growing and changing rapidly as a person all the time... he was doing so much.

Phil's whole vibe of gently shutting Dan's pessimistic comments is everything to me. Obv the most famous one is the 'you ever feel like you don't have a personality?' but it happens so many more times and it just makes me love phil so much he's so gentle

side note- when Dan talks about how he was thinking about saying 'eating ass' in his Living My Truth video Phil's face goes BLANK it's incredibly funny

When Phil says 'there was a moment, about a month before we did it, that I didn't think it was going to happen, in a way.' And knowing the context behind that, the fact that Dan was breaking down because he wanted to come out and felt like he couldn't, GOD. And the way Phil phrases it too, how even after Dan says 'because I was having a mental breakdown!' he goes on to say how it was a lot of things, not just that. True love or whatever idegaf

And there's so many times where Dan will jump in to clarify what Phil's saying- like when Phil talks about how he liked hearing people laugh in real time, and Dan jumps in to say how he's not saying that in a 'it's more gratifying to feel clapping' way. And again, this happens multiple times!! I feel like it just shows how in tune they are, how Dan knows what Phil means and how that might be misconstrued, and wants to make sure everyone else knows what he means too.

SO MUCH soft launch. The hand on the thigh. The "eating ass." The wide hips comment. The Zac Efron comment. Jesus.

I love the imagery of them sat on the couch trying to watch the handmaid's tale and Phil is absolutely losing it crying so Dan switches it to something happier. I mean I guess 'love' might not be the best word but it's just so sweet

D: "I panic about everything all the time." P: "Why are you worried?" D: "I don't know." -- man knowing the context of everything this hits hard

The way Phil challenges him when he says "i think I could just live in a hole" is- idek how to describe it. It's so matter-of-fact, so, "I know how you get, so I'm approaching this from a logical perspective because I know how to reason with you." ugh.

Anyhow sorry this was massive!! So so so many thoughts about this wonderful video and feel free to discuss/disagree with me :) I love any opportunity to yap loll

[dragonbabes]

Imagine Solas and Lavellan accidentally bumping into each other during those eight years between Trespasser and Veilguard.

Just so you know, I wanted this to be like two paragraphs max. Wanted to sprinkle a little angst dust on your head, but ended up pouring the whole jar (sorry, but also not sorry?) I hope you enjoy spiraling with me… <3

She sits on a fine couch tucked in a corner, behind sheer curtains that obscure her from most of the prying eyes trying to catch a glimpse of the elvish woman that wielded the very power of the fade; or the hand that had housed it. She isn’t blind to the disappointment that flitters across faces when her hand is found void of any milky glow, and only a shiny white gold prosthetic clinking against her glass of wine.

Wine. She hates it. Most the time. She’ll drink it at events, if only to make the night pass by a little smoother. The wine, however bitter it is, makes every minute packed with questions poking and prodding at her most painful scars sound a little less like stone grating against itself. Usually, Dorian sticks close to her side to fend off the especially insensitive and the racist assholes that like to hover around her as flies hang around shit.

Lavellan grew up among trees and flowers and sweet silence. The petticoats, snide remarks, and hidden meanings that stink up the air here gives her a headache. It's hot, it's crowded, and she feels like a tiger chained and locked in a cage. Despite hiding - or trying to, at least - Lavellan still catches people looking her way and then whispering behind their hand. Someone is always talking here. The one thing that she and Solas disagreed on is the 'pleasure' of court intrigue. The court makes her feel like a pretty little piece to be won by the highest bidder. When she attends, she’s surrounded by men with one drink too many in their bellies, saying things like—

“I’ve lost you to your thoughts again, Herald.” His words roll off his tongue thickly; he’s Orlesian, that much she’s gathered from his accent. He, who is a scholar and wiseman, ever searching for answers of the fade. And she — oh, joy — is an object of curiosity to him (those were his exact words). “I’ve heard such talk always clams you up. These are the things the others who have sought you have said. You are from the Free Marches, a Dalish, so I imagine you are hesitant to leave your people.” Lavellan hides her snort with her glass by taking another drink. Is he going to pretend that she hadn’t left her clan to travel across Thedas and attend the Conclave? Has this scholar yet asked himself, 'How can she fear leaving her people, yet be here, in Tevinter, at this ball?'

Her eyes, now housing unnatural specks of green that really fascinates the pompous magisters roving about, trail away from the human, along with her thoughts, to meet with the eyes of an elven servant just entering the room.

In his hands is a tray of balanced glasses of champagne — a drink much kinder to her tastebuds — that shine the same shade of gold as the servants' widening eyes. She blinks at the panic that washes through them. He spins around (not losing a drop of the champagne, she notes), shoves at the other servant entering just behind him - who bears a tray of yummy little sandwiches in their hand - back into the shroud of the hall and begins hissing at them.

Her gaze falls down to her hands, clasping her drink in her lap. Since the events of the Inquisition, she’s been held above most everyone. Revered as untouchable, someone to be worshipped. To be bowed to. Even by her own people.

She is lonely.

“Surely, I cannot be so unworthy of your company, Inquisitor.” The man concludes his rant at her side. A rant full of reasons of why she should stay at his estate and become his mistress, to put it bluntly. It's all wrapped up in passionate and poetic words he wants to use to tie her up. Like a dog, not like a lover. For she is an elf, she is a trophy to be won! The Inquisitor! Herald of Andraste, she has been touched by the Maker and sent to them. For them. But... She is an elf, and they'll do everything they can to gloss over it. Sometimes she wonders, hundreds - thousands, maybe - of years from now, will she still be remembered as the elven woman she is? Or will they remake her into what they want?

“My lord, my silence is not an insult to your character.” Lavellan watches as the elven servants fully enter the room now, the taller one behind now with a covered face and lowered eyes. Curious... They move around the room, offering refreshments with lowered heads and sagged shoulders; it makes her tongue thick in her mouth. She trails their movements. “I am flattered by your… Fascination with me.”

Glass empty, she sets it down and turns her hand over, eying the pretty designs etched into the prosthetic. Dagna designed it for her, with the help of Dorian; she wasn't surprised when they gave it to her to be blinded by the sunlight reflecting off the gold, but she was also surprised to love it so much. A simple thing, with the eye of the inquisition on her palm - where the mark was - and vines with small, intricate leaves twisting out from it... “The magic I wielded is a curious phenomenon, no?”

“Absolutely! No one has had such a close connection to the fade! Imagine what we could achieve with your ability, and my intelligence.” She grinds her teeth, jaw flexing; of course, she’s not intelligent enough to understand it on her own.

The vines, Dorian explained, wasn't just because she's Dalish or loves botany, but rather because she 'has a habit of making even the most desolate places blossom.' She closes her palm and holds it over her heart. This human next to her is ignorant to that; she shouldn't let it bother her...

“I’m sure it would’ve been extraordinary.” She lowly replies, her irritation barely covered by the smile she forces into her lips, “Unfortunately, I cannot wield it anymore.”

“Ah, yes, your adversary.” The man leans back in his chair, one arm resting on the couch behind her. Lavellan slowly inches away. “What was his name?” The lord taps his chin as he hums to himself. Lavellan doesn’t bother to offer him the answer, though it’s blanketed over her tongue, drying her mouth and casting her eyes out the window. “The Dread Wolf?” The elven servants stop in front of them.

“My lord.” He offers out the tray to them and lowers his honeyed eyes. Lavellan watches him steadily, the taught lines between her brow melting off her unnaturally sharp features. “Inquisitor.” He dares a glance at her, and she takes that second to smile at him. The lord grabs a glass and continues. As if they don’t exist.

“That is how your people refer to him, yes? The Dread Wolf. Fen’Harel.” There’s cheer flashing through the lord's eyes. He takes a taste of his drink and swishes it around his mouth with a smile barely contained. Her eyes sharpen, but she forces herself to look away before the look kills him. It would’ve, she imagines, and she’s almost ashamed to say it would bring her joy. Just a tad. But that’s not very Inquisitorial of her…

“Thank you.” She quietly says as she removes the last glass from the tray. “Yes, my lord. That’s what they call him.” He cackles, head thrown back, and drawing the rooms attention. Lavellan doesn’t share his elation.

“To think that you had one of your own gods under your nose for the better part of the year!” He puts his hand to his stomach and laughs some more. The Inquisitor rolls her eyes and takes a large gulp of her champagne. “And you never noticed, m’lady? That your feared Dread Wolf dined at the same table as you?” Lavellan’s hand tightens over her drink.

“His name…” Lavellan flinches at the break in her voice and takes a deep breath to steady herself. There’s a burning to her eye. One that tells her she may be one drink too deep herself. She downs what's left in her glass and clears her throat. “His name is Solas.” She flicks her eyes, newly hardened, back to the lord. “And he was there to help. Just like the rest of us. He is a good man… I had no reason to doubt him. Ever.”

“You sound rather affectionate in your address.” He comments.

“Yes.” Her words are quiet as a smile ghosts over her lips. “So, you will understand me when I say I cannot accept your offer.”

“Come, I can change your mind. You can merely visit for a while, things may progress naturally.”

“They will not, my lord.”

“You cannot know that.” He leans in closer to her, drawing a nervous laugh from her.

“I know myself well enough. It will not happen.”

“Surely you will not waste yourself on-“

“Would you like a treat, my lord?” The unmasked servants question is sudden and frantic at first but falling quiet toward the end. Lavellan raises her eye at the nervous shift of his feet, and glances to his friend behind him; what has them so on edge? She catches grey-blue eyes for merely a second before they’re obscured by his brunette hair as he bowed and offered the tray with steady hands. Familiarity instantly breathes down her neck at the shade of blue she saw. Then it begins to burn in her gut.

She cannot seem to escape him no matter where she is...

It’s quiet, Lavellan realizes, and she begins to blink herself back to the present. All humor leaves the lord as he finally turns to acknowledge the two standing before them. His eyes have somehow become a darker shade of black, and his lips turned down with a silent snarl. Lavellan shudders at the sudden change, goosebumps rising into her arms. She watches the look in his eye sharpen into a knife, and her heart jumps into a throat. Inhuman. He’s inhuman, she thinks.

“You can see that the Inquisitor and I are having a conversation, yet you would interrupt us?” Lavellan straightens. This will go badly, and quickly. She places her hand atop the lords, and levels him with a stare that she had been masking all night; pupils blown a little wide, hard, and a slight sense of bloodlust. It was men like this that took her clan from her. She can barely conceal the shake numbing her limbs.

She has to reel it in. For Dorian's sake.

“He has done nothing wrong, my lord. Please, there is no need to use such a tone.” His hand grasps back at her own, and he plants a slobbery kiss to the back of it. Horror parts her lips.

“You jump even to the defense of those who are below you. You are exquisite.” Her skin runs cold, as if she stepped out into a winter night with no cloak. Below her? Below her?

“You would sit next to me on this couch and say such a thing?”

“Ah, Inquisitor. You must be upset with my scolding. Forgive me for such unsightly behavior. I do not make a habit of disciplining the help in front of my guests, be sure. But sometimes you must act immediately, to teach them that some behaviors simply will not be tole-“

“Enough. You misunderstand me.” Her voice is low. Her tone is that of the Inquisitor, not Lavellan, and it makes her heart shiver and ache a little. “They are my people.” Her words are, despite being quiet, heavy, hard, and final. “They are not below me. They are my people.” Gods, she’s had too much to drink. She should hold her tongue. Dorian will have another mess to clean up if she loses her cool again. “Do not think that I have been blind to the disrespect you pay to me and my people. You think you have hidden them so cleverly them behind your little compliments. You have crossed the line. You disgust me, and you will never lay a finger on me, my lord.”

The lord is silent. So are the servants. She removes her tight grip from his hand and scoots herself to the other side of the couch. “Leave me. Before I lose the rest of my patience and become the savage you expect me to be.”

Joy, her first taste of it tonight, blankets over her chest at the wide-eyed, open-mouthed look that's taken up his paling face. Without a word, he scurries away. The Inquisitor steadies herself with a deep breath.

“I’m sorry to provoke him. I know my place.” Lavellan’s brow pinches, and her attention is back on the two before her. The other servant remains with his head bowed and tray outstretched.

“Thank you.” She gingerly removes a sandwich. “You must not apologize to me. And,” her eyes trace the lines of his pale face, and the messy curl of his blond locks… She stops herself. He knows his place, he says… But she fears he doesn’t. He is not below the nobles here, not below the human servants, but how can she convince him. In a room full of people that see him as a mouse scurrying between their boots. “Truly, you’ve nothing to apologize for.”

A sense of shame burrows in her cheeks as she looks away from them. She should help them. There won't be any consquences to her, but the lord will run and tattle, and these two will still be to blame. She should help them escape. But… How? Perhaps Dorian will know.

“You’re as kind as they say.” He bows his head to her, and she shifts in her seat. “We are in your debt.” Her eyes dart to the other elf, but his eyes remain downturned.

“Is your friend okay?” She asks. He jumps as his attention returns to the quiet form at his side.

“Oh, yes. He’s mute.”

“Oh?” She takes in the tall, masked man before her. “Why do you wear…” She catches herself, “Why the mask?”

“He has a nasty scar. Wouldn’t want to offend you, my lady.” Her brows pinch, but a laugh plays on her lips.

“People say I’m kind, yet you fear showing me your scars?” She looks to the other, wishing he’d bring his eyes to hers, but he doesn’t. She wants to see that blue again. “Well… I take no offense to yours. I’ve my own to hide as well.” She addresses him, and his eyes return to meet her own. Again, her stomach churns and her heart flutters. She wishes she could see Solas again, to know if she truly remembers his face, or how he looked at her. If the blue of his eye truly is so similar to the ones staring back at her.

Lavellan takes in the straight brow above the masked elf's eye and returns to searching the depths of them. They seem to suck her in, and she's helpless to pull herself away; they felt like wells full of an emotion she couldn’t place. She leans forward before she can think better of it. Why is her heart stirring so much? She felt she could drown in the warmth radiating out of those blue orbs.

Why is he looking at her like that? As if she were the only thing in this room? As if he knew her, as if he understood-

“Lady Inquisitor?” The servant asks quickly, another nervous shift in his stance.

“Ah, sorry.” A sheepish smile plays on her lips as she leans back against the couch. “Your eyes are quite beautiful. They remind me of a friend.” Her own gaze falls, returning to watch the city splayed out before her, and dulls to a melancholy glisten. “Thank you for the sandwich. Take care.” They bow to her, and stalk off.

She’s foolish. She wanted him back so badly she can see him in any set of pretty blue eyes, it seems. Her eyes redden, tears building until they threatened to fall, and all the drinks she’s had begins to burn in her stomach. She’d like to leave soon.

She hates the court. He loved it.

And that’s all she can think about when she comes to these things.

XXX

She hates the court.

Why is she even here?

Where is Dorian? Why would he ever leave her side in a place like this?

Those are the sort of things whirring around Solas’ head. He stares severely at the marble floor and takes deep breaths to ground the uproar within him. His body is buzzing, like every nerve within him is coming to life simply by being so near her. Years have passed, yet she is as beautiful as ever. More so.

Perched on a couch just behind the shifting curtains, the mage casts her several glances as they work their way around the room, and shudders each time she’s revealed to him. Beautiful. Ethereal. Her hair shifting with the breeze, tapping against her jaw, and plump, painted lips caressing the curve of her wine glass.

She hates wine.

He just needs information of who the idol was sold to. It’s a simple mission that any agent could carry out. Therin wasted no time trying to dissuade him. He even suggested Solas take a walk in Treviso, visit a cafe, and take a day to himself. But the mage didn't want to wander, he wanted to focus. There's a reason he insisted to come himself...

That reason is on the couch a few paces behind him. Solas hadn’t wanted to be haunted with the thought of her, torturing himself over the words she would say to him if she knew that he is one step closer to finishing the ritual… A ritual that would ruin the world she fought and bled for…

Therin insisted that he doesn’t follow him in, but she’d already seen Solas following him and she would have questions; the observant, smart, curious creature she is. So here he is, heart hammering so hard in his chest the closer he steps to her that he worries he might pass out.

When her voice finally reaches his ear, he almost let's out an audible whimper, but manages to strangle it with a quiet cough. How he missed hearing her voice. If he could, he’d give everything to spend another night pouring over books with her in the Skyhold library. What wouldn’t he do to hear her voice free of the weight of his betrayal and back to the warm, lilting cadence she used only with him.

“The Dread Wolf?” Solas stills at that name. The lord who is draped across the couch with Lavellan, leaning closer to her, as she leans farther away, hums with amusement. "Fen'Harel..." Solas can barely breathe, this close to her; yet unable to speak to her, to touch or hold her…

It’s nearly more painful to him to be unknown to her, as he is now, than to bare himself before her again.

His tongue swells after he steps past the curtain and beholds her entirely. Clad in a detailed dress clinging to her waist, pushing up her breasts, and resting happily on her wide hips. Solas burns her image into his mind, noting every little detail of her that has changed. His eyes linger on the golden hand that reaches out and plucks a drink from Therin's tray.

He could fall to his knees now and beg her forgiveness. She could tell him he is nothing and he would be grateful she even allowed him to kneel before her… His chest constricts painfully.

“Thank you.” Her voice is warm, softened. “Yes, my lord. That’s what they call him.” Her civility is forced, he can hear it in the flatness of her words. The human begins to cackle, and Solas’ eyes narrow dangerously onto him.

“To think that you had one of your own gods under your nose for the better part of the year!” The mage's hands tighten over the silver tray until they are white knuckled. He would laugh at Lavellan? The woman who saved his sorry ass from the tyranny of Corypheus? “And you never noticed, m’lady? That your feared Dread Wolf dined at the same table as you?”

And he would ignore vhenan's clear discomfort? The shade cast over her eye, the frown on her lips, and her hand tightening over her glass. The expression on her face, sure to fall unnoticed by everyone else, is one of desolation while she looks out to the city. He wanted to reach out and touch her temple, relieve her of what he knows is banging around in her chest; the exact thing that is trying to claw its own way out of his chest and to her. Solas’ mind is narrowing, his willpower dwindling; he’d damn all of his efforts soon if he didn’t leave. He needs to back away or he will blow their cover. The elf manages a weak step backwards.

“His name…” Her voice breaks, and he does the same. Her eyes are slightly irritated, a redness climbing up into her cheeks, and he can see her collecting herself with deep breaths. She’s always been in control of herself. He admires her for it. “His name is Solas.” She brings her eyes back to the lord, keeping them steadily on the shifting fool. “And he was there to help. Just like the restof us. He is a good man… I had no reason to doubt him. Ever.”

Solas’ heart falls into his stomach, where it begins to churn into a nausea that threatened to bring him to his knees. Her words are lodged in his chest.

“You sound rather affectionate in your address.”

“Yes.” It comes from her in a whisper. It comes with a smile. “So you will understand me when I say I cannot accept your offer.” Offer? His eyes flick back up to the two on the couch, trying to decipher the look shared between the two.

“Come, I can change your mind. You can merely visit for a while, things may progress naturally.” Is he asking her to, what, marry him? Be his mistress? Her unease and his insistence leads Solas to believe it’s exactly that; likely the latter, considering. There’s a pang in his chest.

Of course others will want her. Look at her. More than that, she is good. She’s kind, strong, intelligent- he could go on forever. She is everything. What creature could not crave her?

“They will not, my lord.”

“You cannot know that.” The bastard begins to lean closer to vhenan. The panic that shuddered over her expression is enough to send the elven god over the edge. She moves away with a nervous laugh. Solas stiffens, and he hears a sharp breath from Therin; the agent could tell when the Dread Wolf was getting prickly.

“I know myself well enough. It will not happen.” Solas’ eyes are smoldering.

“Surely you will not waste yourself on-“ That’s it. He can take it no more. He takes a step forward, the tray beginning to loosen in his hands.

“Would you like a treat, my lord?” Therin’s voice calls him back to himself. The mage swallows thickly. His eyes instinctively return to Lavellan. She locks him in his place with her gaze, every muscle in his body tensing, and his heart flopping from his stomach up into his throat. He could not get control over himself.

His eyes lower, and he holds out the tray. She would know his voice if he made even a noise, that he was sure of. So he’s silent in his regard to her and the piece of shit next to her. There’s an uncomfortable silence, but Solas doesn’t bother to ascertain why it’s fallen over the four of them.

“You can see that the Inquisitor and I are having a conversation, yet you would interrupt us?” Solas clenches his jaw. Would that the lord knew what beast was barely keeping himself in check a feet away… What would his words be if he knew that the Dread Wolf — the wolf that loved the woman he is so blatantly propositioning — had his fangs positioned at his throat; how Solas salivates at the thought of crushing the man’s windpipe.

“He has done nothing wrong, my lord. Please, there is no need to use such a tone.” The Dread Wolf’s blue eyes cool even further as he watches her hand fall atop the humans. Her skin has paled, her eyes darting between Therin and the lord with a disarming smile trying to stick on her lips.

“You jump even to the defense of those who are below you. You are exquisite.” She is exquis-

He will kill him. Before Solas leaves this ball tonight, he’ll see this man’s heart removed from his chest. The lord thinks he deserves to press his lips to her skin? Skin that Solas himself did not have the pleasure of tasting? This little human believes himself worthy of vhenan? His vhenan?

The lord even pays no mind to the look of terror that breaks through her mask for a second. He would ignore her rejections, belittle her, and touch her so carelessly? Death is almost too good for him.

“You would sit next to me on this couch and say such a thing?”

“Ah, Inquisitor. Forgive me for such unsightly behavior. I do not make a habit of disciplining the help in front of my guests, be sure. But sometimes you must act immediately, to teach them that some behaviors simply will not be tole-“

“Enough. You misunderstand me.” Lavellan’s voice is unnaturally hard and low. He imagines he’d die right then and there if she were to ever addresses him with such a cold voice. Solas waits impatiently for the lord to do the same. “They are my people.” She keeps her voice low so that the others in the room wouldn’t catch whiff of the commotion. “They are not below me. They are my people.” She has not changed so much, it seems. To endure the insults he wrapped up in his compliments, until they were directed at others. Often, she didn’t bother to defend herself from the sharp words of others, but the moment she heard someone mumble under their breath after him — or anyone, really — she was nearly feral. He would pull her away with a smile playing on his lips, and wrap his hand around her waist, plant a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“It’s ok, vhenan.” He’d say. “Their words do not bother me.”

“But they bother me!” She’d cry back with this same look in her eyes. A direct stare, sparkling with ire, and a promise to fulfill every warning coming off her lips. His hands threatened to tremble knowing that they could not soothe her as they did before...

“Do not think that I have been blind to the disrespect you pay to me and my people. You think you have so cleverly hidden them behind your compliments. You have crossed the line. You disgust me, and you will never lay a finger on me, my lord.”

What is it raging about in his chest? Dying jealousy clashing with his ire, now being smothered by a cool wave of pride.

“Leave me. Before I loose the rest of my patience and become the savage you expect me to be.” The lord scurries away. Lavellan’s chest rises with a deep breath, and falls with her steadying exhale.

“I’m sorry to provoke him. I know my place.”

“Thank you. You must not apologize to me. And,” She bites her lip as she catches her words. His eyes return to her as soon as he feels her gaze slip to her hands. The crease between her brow, and the worry of her lip; she has something she wants to tell them… She returns with only a warm smile and, “Truly, you’ve nothing to apologize for.”

“You’re as kind as they say.” Lavellan shuffles as Therin bows his head to her, and Solas does the same. “We are in your debt.”

“Is your friend okay?” He’s suffocating under her gaze. He’s nearly forgotten how thrilling her attention was.

“Oh, yes. He’s mute.” She hums back a response, and asks about his mask. Maybe he should’ve just turned around and let Therin handle it all. Of course she’d be suspicious of the one elven servant wearing a mask. “He has a nasty scar. Wouldn’t want to offend you, my lady.” She laughs.

Gods his knees are weak. A smile blossoms into his own lips before he can think. Then his brow pinches; he’s smiling, while feeling like he might throw up, or worse, start sobbing in her lap.

“People say I’m kind yet you fear showing me your scars? Well… I take no offense to yours. I’ve my own to hide as well.” In a moment of weakness — pure stupidity —, despite the whispers in his mind that doing it is a terrible mistake, he trails his eyes up to her own. He is all too aware of the love she has for him.

She will know him. Even if it’s just from a short meeting of their eyes. What’s worse is he almost wants her to recognize him.

If she did, what would she do? His eyes search hers for an answer. Would she allow him to apologize? Would she forgive him? Would she run into his arms? Or would she give him that same icy stare that she gave the lord? Could there be even the slightest hope that someday he could hold her again?

But hope is all he’s ever seen in her eyes. This time is no different. He sucks in an audible breath as vhenan leans forward; he sees the familiarity sparking in her beautiful eye, in the part of her lips.

“Lady Inquisitor?” Solas lowers his gaze as her attention is pulled away from him again. He lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Ah, sorry.” She gives a short smile. “Your eyes are quite beautiful. They remind me of a friend.” The world is spinning, until he catches sight of how her eyes have fallen. “Thank you for the sandwich. Take care.”

He bows again, trying to somehow say “I love you eternally, vhenan” with the gesture, but he knows it won’t reach her. He knows it by the far off look taking over the shine in her eye.

His own heart shudders as he gives her one last glance from the shadows of the hall, pulling his mask down and revealing the heavy frown over his lips. The redness of her eye a warning of the tears brimming them, is a cool reminder to the chaos that she’d stirred up in his chest.

All those smoldering emotions that had been warring in his chest, cooled by his pride, are now extinguished with his regret. Regret that he’s ever made her wear such an expression. Regret that he cannot kiss it off of her.

“Let’s continue.” Solas says with a hardened jaw and furrowed brow, turning and walking away with his hands clasped behind his back. “Oh, and try to figure out that lords name.”

“You cant be serious!” Therin exclaims. Solas merely turns to him with a raised brow. “Right… On it.”

[fetusgooseandjuice]

Trust Me

Pairing(s): Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You haven’t been able to sleep in a couple weeks, and Natasha knows just the way to get you to close your eyes.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None? (If anyone finds any feel free to message me!)

Author’s Note: Heyy guys! I know I haven’t posted a fic in like 6 months, but I got writers block and it just never really went away. I’m not sure when I’ll post again, but I’ve had the idea for this fic for a while and I finally got the motivation to write it. It might not be that good but I hope you enjoy it at least a little! Think of it as a little Christmas gift :)

Author’s Note Pt. 2: Also, this is not proofread because I just wanted to get it posted so there might be some spelling and grammar errors!

You heavily sighed once again for probably the fifth time in the past five minutes. It’s been a few hours since you and Natasha had called it a night, and yet here you were at nearly three in the morning still lying wide awake.

Although it’s not as if you were surprised or expecting anything else. You’d been having trouble falling asleep since the first night you and Natasha arrived in Norway.

Despite not having gotten many hours of sleep lately, for some reason you still weren’t tired and still could not fall asleep.

When your girlfriend came to you a week and a half ago and told you she had no other choice but to leave the states in order to evade the government after the whole incident between Tony and Steve, you instantly decided you’d be going with her without a second thought and left no room for her to disagree.

After all she should’ve known you’d follow her anywhere, but you guess it’s taken a toll on you.

You wanted to sleep, and yet you weren’t sure what was keeping you up. Maybe you were worried about something happening to Natasha?

‘What if she gets caught? Or what if we both somehow get hurt?’ you thought.

But you knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself and keeping you safe at the same time.

Even with the amount of times you told yourself not to worry, your mind wouldn’t listen.

You eventually sighed and turned your head to look at the redhead behind you. Her arms were wrapped tightly around you and no matter how much she shifted throughout the night, she never let you go.

The mere thought of that would be enough to bring a smile to your face if you weren’t so frustrated with yourself.

Deciding you’d had enough of laying there awake, you carefully unraveled your girlfriend’s arms from around you and slid out of bed.

You almost shivered at the cool temperature of the trailer as your bare feet touched the floor and you made your way into the kitchen.

The random plastic bags on the counter rustled as you rummaged through them in search of something to snack on, finally coming across a bottle of water and a pack of chips you’d never heard of.

As you went to open the cap of the bottle, a pair of arms slipping around your waist startled you. The yelp you let out made the person behind you chuckle, and you relaxed recognizing the sound.

“Sorry, malysh (baby).” Natasha said and you turned to look at her to see the apologetic look she had on her face.

You gave her a slight smile before shaking your head, “It’s okay. But what’re you doing up right now, Nat? You should be asleep, you need to rest.”

She dipped her head down to press multiple kisses to the skin of your neck, “I could ask you the same question because so do you.”

You should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to leave the warmth of your shared bed without her noticing.

“I just couldn’t sleep.” you said, making her eyebrows furrow as you opened your water bottle and took a sip. “But I know you’re still tired so you should go back to bed, I’ll be there soon.”

“No, not without you.” Natasha was quick to disagree, “What’s going on, dorogaya (darlin)? You were yawning quite a bit before we went to bed. Why can’t you sleep?” she rested her chin on your shoulder, ready to listen to what you had to say.

You sighed realizing that you were going to have to have this conversation now. Your shoulders shrugged, “I don’t know.” was all you offered.

Natasha stayed quiet, giving you the floor for when you were ready to add on. A moment later, you did.

“I haven’t really gotten any decent sleep recently, so I’m not sure why I can’t fall asleep or why I’m not tired.”

Your girlfriend pecked your shoulder blade, acknowledging that she heard you.

“How long has this been going on for?” she asked.

For a second you went quiet, not exactly wanting to answer when you remembered that now that she knew, she wasn’t going to let it go until she made it better.

“Since we left the states.” you admitted.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Once again, you shrugged your shoulders, “I didn’t want to worry you.” you said. “You already have a lot on your plate with this whole situation and I didn’t want to add more to it.”

You heard Natasha sigh and now you appreciated that fact that you weren’t standing face to face at the moment.

“I guess I’m thinking too much.” you added. “At night I finally get the time to actually think about stuff, and I worry about you and if you’re going to be okay.”

Natasha was also glad you weren’t standing face to face right now because if you were, you would’ve seen the way her lips pulled into a smile.

“Well if you’re going to worry about me then I think I have every right to worry about you.” she chuckled and you fought back a smile at it.

“I’m sorry.” you said.

She didn’t say anything for a few moments until you heard her soft voice with that hint of rasp speak up.

“Look at me, krasivyy (beautiful).”

You craned your neck to see green eyes which were filled to the brim with love and tenderness staring at you, the singular warm light above the kitchen sink allowing her to see your sad ones.

The frustration that’d been building up in you beginning to melt away ever so slightly.

“I want you to talk to me about what you’re going through.” Natasha spoke. “I don’t care about what you think I might have going on, you’re always my first priority, okay?”

You nodded as she raised a hand to caress your cheek, brushing a hair behind your ear in the process.

“I love you too much to have you worrying that pretty little head of yours all alone when I’m always right here for you.” she pressed her lips to your temple to emphasize her point. “So promise me next time you’ll tell me if somethings wrong?”

“I promise, and I love you too, Nat.”

“Good,” Natasha smiled and leaned in to connect your lips in a loving kiss, pulling away shortly after and leaning her forehead against yours. “I’m going to be okay, so there’s no need to worry. We’re both gonna be okay, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. You knew Natasha would make sure of that.

“Alright, do you think you’re ready to head back to bed?”

You weren’t sure how to answer that. Even though you were relieved Natasha knew now and you talked about it, you still weren’t even close to being able to go to sleep.

“No,” you spoke quietly. “I’m still not really tired, and I honestly don’t know if I will be until this all blows over.”

Natasha went silent for a few moments, thinking. She turned you around to face her and moved your arms to wrap around her shoulders.

“Nat, what are you—”

“Shhh,” she interrupted your sentence, “Just trust me.”

So you did.

Her arms snaked back around your waist and pulled you into her. You weren’t exactly sure what she was doing until she began swaying with you from one side to the other.

You’d danced together before, but at Tony’s many parties. Not when you were trying to make yourself fall asleep.

“Nat, I don’t think—”

“You’re supposed to be trusting me. Do you not?”

“I do, but—”

“So shhh,” she said and you couldn’t help the little giggle you let out. “You said you were thinking too much, right?”

“Yeah.” you confirmed.

“So just relax and let me do all the thinking. I don’t want you to worry about anything except trusting me.”

“Okay.” you whispered, giving in and resting your cheek on her shoulder, allowing her to move you.

A few seconds later Natasha began humming. It wasn’t a song that you knew, but you recognized it as one of the many Russian lullabies she’s hummed and sometimes sang to you before.

The way she hummed them always made you feel relaxed and peace, and this time was no different. Because soon you started to lean into her more as you became more and more weary.

Your heavy eyelids fell shut and your head found security in her neck as you cuddled closer to it, happily letting her comforting scent soothe you.

After a couple of songs, Natasha finally looked at you to find you pretty much sound asleep.

She grinned to herself and pecked your head before lifting you into her arms, making her way back to your bedroom.

“Told you to trust me.”

~ end ~

[starrysnowdrop]

Heyo! So I happened to see your recent ask response regarding Zenos randomly, and, honestly, I'm kind of curious on what people miss about his character! I'm not a personal big fan of him(ngl he kind of creeped me out with his, projecting himself on the wol it felt like? Note I say that as a WHM main who plays as truly heroic WoL(s) most of the time admittedly, so most of his stuff made me go no? alot XD I don't mind people who do like him tho! They're cool!), but I'm interested in understanding him better if possible, cause I know I miss things that others don't and I don't think I've seen anyone explain his intricacies without being somewhat rude about it, but you explained what you did without coming off as that. So I'm kind of curious on that essay you almost wrote if you'd be alright writing it XD (Sorry for being on anon, I am, very shy qwq)

In case you’re not familiar with what this anon is asking about, this is in response to my answer to this ask HERE. Feel free to go read that one and come back!

So, I first want to say thank you for being brave enough to reach out to me about this, even on anon!! I’m really glad that you didn’t find my comments to be rude, as that is the very last thing that I would want! If anyone did find me too abrasive in my previous post above, then I wholeheartedly apologize for that. I would never want anyone to be afraid to reach out to me because I came off as rude at some point, so I appreciate you letting me know that you didn’t think I was. 💖

Alright, now let’s get to the topic at hand: Zenos, and why I truly think that he is the most misunderstood character in FFXIV.

Zenos: The Most Misunderstood Character in FFXIV

((I wrote way too much, so it’s under the cut.))

Alright, so let’s start with what I have seen as the popular take on Zenos that I see as wrong: A lot of players see Zenos as a one dimensional character that has no depth, and doesn’t have a character arc in which he grows as a character. They see him as the annoying antagonist who has a battle boner for the WoL and that’s it. They only see his bloodlust and nothing else. They don’t think there is anything else to him, and that’s where I must strongly disagree.

So, how is he not a one dimensional character? Well, that’s because he really is a complex character, but you need to be paying close attention to what Zenos is actually saying and what his actions are throughout the story.

One can piece together Zenos’ complexity purely from watching the cutscenes, but just in case anyone is curious about going into more depth on his backstory, then I highly recommend that you go read his side story from the Chronicles of Light book entitled “The Hunt Begins”. It shows how Zenos was raised, and it reinforces why he thinks the way that he does.

Without going into his backstory too much, for brevity's sake, Zenos is actually a prodigy, someone who was born with not only incredible strength, but also incredible intelligence, and you know what happens when gifted kids don't get enough of a challenge? Yup, they get easily bored. So keep that in mind as we move along. Now, mix that boredom with a good dose of Anhedonia, or the inability to experience pleasure or joy. Now we aren't sure if he was born with Anhedonia, or if he acquired it through some mental health condition, such as PTSD, depression, etc. I'm no psychologist whatsoever, so I'm not here to diagnose Zenos with any particular disorder, but it is clear that he suffers from the lack of feeling joy or pleasure in his life.

This is actually what characterizes Zenos the most when we first are introduced to him in 4.0; he is suffering from Anhedonia AND Ennui, which according to Webster's Dictionary, is not just a feeling of weariness and dissatisfaction, but its a profound sense of boredom that arises from feeling jaded with one's life.

Zenos is suffering from a lack of joy and pleasure in his life, seeing the world as meaningless and dull, and he has found only one sole pleasure in all of it: The Hunt*. But what he means by The Hunt, is that he wants to fight the most challenging foes, challenging enough that he must put his all into the battle and be pushed to the brink of death. Only this kind of challenging battle will give him any sense of joy at all. For him at this point, there has been nothing else which has brought him joy, so he seeks out this sole pleasure.

And THAT is what Zenos' motivation is. He is not mindless in his pursuit of battle. His bloodlust stems from the desire to feel some kind of happiness at all, and unlike what some might think, not any foe will do. Zenos does not fight mindlessly against anyone at any time. That is not true. If an enemy is no threat to him, unless they purposely get in his way, he will not fight them.

This is true from the first time you see Zenos on the battlefield. At Rhalgr's Reach, Zenos sought out only the strongest fighters there, and two of them (Lyse and Y'shtola) got in his way first, and he defeated them easily. When he fights the WoL, the one who he has heard so much about, and definitely the strongest opponent among them, he becomes curious and hopes that we will give him what he wants. But in that first battle with him, he swats the WoL away like a fly, and they pose no challenge to him at all, to which he calls them "Pathetic", and then he immediately leaves, ultimately disappointed.

Note that Zenos had every opportunity to kill Lyse, Y’shtola, and the WoL if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He leaves them alone after he defeats them. That’s not the sign of someone who is so sadistic that he’s only out for blood. The fact of the matter here is that Zenos is trying to feel something from battle, something that he has never experienced before: pure joy.

Zenos doesn’t experience this joy until he fights the WoL again several times; first he gets just a hint of it, a tiny spark, when the WoL breaks a piece of his helmet off, and he feels it even more later on when Zenos fights the WoL in the Ala Mhigan throne room. This is when Zenos goes into his monologue before he releases and takes over Shinryu, and note that the joy and pleasure he is describing seems to have a sexual tone to it, which I promise I have a point to make about that in a bit.

After the battle with Zenos as Shinryu, he finally feels the joy that he has never felt in his entire life, and because he doesn’t think he’ll ever feel anything like it ever again, Zenos takes his own life, happy to have played a bit part in the story of his “first friend”.

But as we know, Zenos doesn’t stay dead. He finds himself alive once more, and he has a singular goal: to feel that pure bliss, that overwhelming joy that he felt when he fought the WoL in the Royal Menagerie in Ala Mhigo. From ShB through EW, Zenos’ goal doesn’t change, but he does change in his understanding of what it means to have a “friend” and how he can feel happiness.

During EW, Zenos has several scenes where his understanding of his feelings seems to grow, and though that sexual tone to his descriptions of what he’s feeling towards his battle with the WoL is still there, I would argue that over time, it seems to have more and more of a romantic tone to it as well. And with this shift in his tone when describing his feelings, he also seems to question his understanding of it all.

Zenos’ character growth is the whole point of two very important scenes: the Scions and Jullus encountering Zenos in Garlemald while fighting the blasphemies, and later when Zenos goes to the Royal Menagerie alone. The first of these scenes reinforces the themes of EW with Zenos’ philosophy of life, but it is also the first time that someone says something that makes Zenos question his beliefs.

Alisaie’s words to Zenos hit him hard, and Zenos goes back to the Royal Menagerie, to the scene of where he had his one transcendent moment, his one time in his life when he felt joy, pleasure, and happiness. He realizes in this moment that, whatever you believe Zenos’ true feelings are for the WoL, which I personally argue that it is love that he feels for them, but regardless, Zenos cannot continue to be selfish and only think about his own wants and desires. He must act selflessly, and assist in the WoL’s battle against the Endsinger and stop the Final Days, in order for the WoL to give him what he wants in return. He finally realizes that it’s this give and take, this reciprocation between people, is the key to building bonds with others… Zenos finally learns what it is to be a “friend” to someone. After this moment, Zenos goes to Sharlayan to find a way to help out the WoL in their mission to save the star, and to finally be a friend to them.

And you know what that is? That’s growth. That’s having a character arc. That’s Zenos in all of his complexity. Which I still say that it’s perfectly fine to not like his character, but I only wish that people would not like him with a clear understanding of what he really is, and not what others think he is.

Alright, I think I have blabbed on long enough, but I hope that I have answered your question anon! If you need me to clarify anything further, please don’t hesitate to ask me! Thank you so much for your ask anon, and thank you to all who have read this! 💖

[qin-qin16]

Why I think Horror shouldn't be part of the Bad Sanses

[cw: Long yapping, i’m a mediocre fan of Horror and Dust, dadmare and bad sans poly fans this one isn't for you]

@howlsofbloodhounds @what-have-i-unleashed

note: If you disagree with me, feel free to discuss the matter! Just don't be rude and respect my views on this!

I might get torn apart by my mutuals for this, but... I don't think Horror should be part of the "Bad Sanses" (or the bad guys, as some people have referred to them), especially if we're talking about Nightmare as the “leader” of the group (more like a cult leader but whatever).

I'll clear up any confusion about MTT choosing to work for Nightmare – no, they wouldn't choose that. None of them would make such a foolish, dumb decision. They're all too clever to willingly serve someone as arrogant and cruel as Nightmare.

To support my point, I’d like to say that, in my opinion, it makes sense for both Killer and Dust to be manipulated by Nightmare. Killer’s situation is pretty clear – not only does his canon show that he’s forced to work for Nightmare, but his whole history with Chara makes him the perfect victim for Nightmare to shape to his own will. That being said, I won’t go into too much detail about their troubled and extremely toxic "relationship" (I’m using the word "relationship" here because there’s no better term for this situation that I can think of for now).

And what about Dust? Okay, confession time: I’ve never seen any canon facts about him. Don’t throw stones at me – I know my charm is being a mediocre fan of these multiversal skeletons.

Unlike Killer, Dust probably didn’t even realize he was being manipulated by the devil. He already knew all the possibilities of a reset, all the choices the human could make — so why not take the one time in life chance to escape that world and boost his LOVE? A little more LOVE would definitely put an end to the endless resets. With enough LOVE, the human could finally be defeated! All he needed to do was increase his LV just a bit more and then return to his world before the human reset.

But before he knew it, he was already trapped in Nightmare’s filthy claws, unable to return to his world and stop the human from advancing through their endless genocidal routes. (Shoutout to my mutual @what-have-i-unleashed and their amazing post that I can’t seem to find, about the headcanon that Nightmare is a dream eater, and that it’s by eating Dust’s dreams that they end up meeting. [I’m not sure if that’s exactly what it was, but I trust my memory.]).

However, all he did was make it easier for Nightmare's sweet words to slip into his mind, twisting his thoughts into believing that Nightmare was a friend. My headcanon is that, after recruiting Killer, Nightmare chose to take a more ““““peaceful”””” approach to "recruit" his next servants.

Now, the point that made me want to write this post: why the hell would Nightmare choose Horror? Killer and Dust's worlds are basically universes on the verge of collapse, with no real reason to keep going. But Horror? His universe isn’t even close to ending; a new chapter just began with the fall of a new human (something extremely rare when compared to other timelines). It wouldn’t make sense for Nightmare to want to recruit someone who’s so deeply rooted in a place — and someone who would never abandon his brother to follow a cheap, terrifying version of himself.

Let’s be honest, out of the three, Horror would probably be the first to turn down any deal Nightmare might offer — both of them are way too manipulative to trust each other. And unlike Killer and Dust, Horror would definitely be unpredictable for Nightmare (he literally tortures Aliza just for fun! What wouldn’t he do to pass the time and be less bored?). Plus, he has no real use for Nightmare (ouch, sorry Horror fans).

His LOVE, no matter how high it is compared to the average Sans, still doesn’t come close to the extremely high LOVE that Killer and Dust possess. And while he might be bigger than other Sanses, he definitely has the most fragile, cracked, and scarred bones — wounds that even the strongest healing magic can’t repair. For Nightmare, Horror is probably just a bucket of negative emotions — his AU is merely a smorgasbord for Nightmare, nothing more.

[ink-stainedkiss]

Graying Skies - Megumi Fushiguro

Synopsis: A ceaseless thunderstorm broods over Jujutsu Tech and it makes you begin to loose sleep. Thankfully a just as restless Megumi is here to provide company.

Since it was raining today, I decided to incorporate it into my work. I am so happy to finally create a work about my favorite grumpy boy🫶. Feel free to request more Oneshots like this if you enjoyed it!

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, but it’s just making out

Word Count: 1.2k

Thunder clapped violently above head, shaking the entire building, and making the raging thunderstorm outside worse. Bolts of lightning came crashing down, their natural light flashing through the crack of your curtain. It had been raining all day, so you had to go to classes with the continuous pattering of droplets hitting the roof to complete it. The atmosphere made everyone at Jujutsu Tech tired. Gojo Sensei even turned on a movie because he was too sleepy to teach, which was understandable. You couldn’t train because the workspaces were slick and Principal Yaga was weary his students would catch a cold if they were outside for too long.

Classes had ended and everyone was in their assigned dorms. Some people like Yuji and Nobara had already passed out, unfazed by the weather, but you found yourself on the opposite side of the scale. You sat on your bed, knees tucked into your chest as your eyes stared at the darkened sky. Usually, you were fine about going to sleep in the rain, but something was nagging you tonight. You decided to wait it out since tomorrow would be the weekend and you could sleep in forever how long you wanted. A few candles scattered in your dorm created a soft glow and even with the occasional cracks of light and booming thunder, it was calming.

Your eyes felt heavy and you wondered if you should try to go to bed, but just as that thought appeared, there was a soft knock at your door. You turned, brow raised. Who would be knocking at this time? “Come in.” The person on the other side of the door pushed it slowly open and when they came into view, you were a bit stunned,” Megumi?” He stood in your doorway, looking away from your curious gaze, almost like he was embarrassed. He was in his sleep clothes, a black long-sleeve and simple grey sweatpants.

“Sorry if I woke you,” he mumbled. You giggled softly, motioning to the lit candles,” You’re alright, I’ve been up for a while.” He nodded,” You couldn’t sleep?” You shook your head to his question,” No and it looks like you can’t either.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly,” Yeah, I was trying to find someone else who I could stay up with…” The fact that Megumi had gone to your door first without question was something he was going to keep to himself.

You watched in amusement as he shifted on the balls of his feet, clearly struggling to sound his thoughts. You scooted to the wall side of your bed,” Well, I am in the mood for some company.” Even in the darkly lit room, you could see him exhale out of relief and he walked over. When he was sitting next to you, you noticed his tense position and tried to make it less unpleasant.

“Do you like the rain?” Your question was barely audible and if the boy wasn’t right next to you, Megumi probably would have never heard it. He thought for a second, noting how you weren’t looking for an answer right away,” Not that much,” facing him, there was no unintelligible expression on your face. Nothing that agreed or disagreed with his claim, but you were clearly telling him to continue.

Megumi shifted on your mattress, sinking further into the cushions,” It mostly annoys me. It makes everything soggy and it can drench you if you were ever caught in it.” He smiled a bit as he kept saying,” When I was a kid, I would ask my dad to stop the rain since I wanted to play outside.” Though a tiny grin was on his face, you could feel the bittersweetness of the memory.

Instinctively, you scooted closer, your shoulders touching, and continued to listen to the boy,” But I don’t despise it. I think the older I got the more I learned how relaxing it can be.” Your eyes caught onto the window again as it lit up in a blue-grayish color,” I think I like it more than some people.” Though you didn’t know, Megumi turned to you, his eyes scanning your calm face as you watched the rain pour down.

“Most call it gloomily and I can understand why they don’t like it, but rain can bring people together.” In the moment it was as if a bubble was formed around the two of you and anything outside of it didn’t matter,” If someone forgets their umbrella, one of their friends, or a stranger offers to share theirs. Kids enjoy it because of the large puddles, but even some adults can’t resist the urge to jump into the water.” Megumi wasn’t sure what was in the air, but you sounded so beautiful even if you were just talking about rain.

A warm smile spread onto your lips as you recalled classic movies,” And I would kill to share a kiss in the rain. There’s something so intimate about not caring if your clothes or hair are ruined and only focusing on the love of their life.” There was a beat of silence and you let out a tiny giggle,” Sorry, I think I’ve been watching too many romance-“

You were cut off by warm lips pressing into yours. Coincidentally, a strike of lightning came down once you realized what was happening. Megumi was kissing you. Megumi Fushiguro was kissing you. You instantly brought your hands to his face, pulling him closer. Your lips moved in synchronization as if you’ve done this a thousand times before. Little pants pushed past your lips as you backed away for only a second for air, then moved right back to each other. You tangled your hand into his raven hair and he easily lifted you to sit on his lap.

Your room was filled with breathless gasps and muffled grunts as you moved as one. The tension grew as Megumi moved to your neck, craving your skin against his lips. Allowing him more access, you craned your neck back and let out a faint moan as he suckled on your skin.

Sadly, a rather loud and disruptive Thunder echoed across the campus, making both you and Megumi jolt in surprise. You made eye contact with the boy and then began to giggle. Megumi thought I was the prettiest noise he’d ever heard and couldn’t help but chuckle. When your laughs died down, you stared down at Megumi, noting how the orange glow in your room decorated his face beautifully. He was so gorgeous like this. Messy hair, flushed cheeks, and bruised lips. So caught up in his appearance, you leaned in, planting another sweet kiss on his lips.

Pulling away, you rested your head against his own, continuing to play with the back of his hair. A thought crossed Megumi’s mind that had him smirking. His eyes examined your face,” Ya know, I don’t think I mind the rain anymore.” A hearty giggle left your lips and you nodded in glee,” Yeah? You’re not wishing it would go away?” He shook his head, sultry eyes landing on your plump lips once again.

You leaned in, interlocking your mouth with his once again. Unexpectedly, he flipped you over, making a squeal leave your lips. The shock was quick to pass as you felt Megumi wrap his arms around your body. You rested on your side and the boy held you close, his face nuzzled into your neck. You smiled at his clinginess, which he would never show in public, and placed a peck on his cheek,” Goodnight Megs.” He gave a muffled response that was filled with sleep.

Megumi had come to your room to hopefully wind up cuddling with you, but he ended up with something ten times better.

[weneeya]

comforting nanami after a long day ??

Angst to fluff ofc, he starts being dry over text and accidentally ignores u at home but then realizes and apologizes and we comfort him <3

some peaceful time w/ nanami m.list | rules

note. YES omg I love this idea as much as I love nanami himself, thank you for this!! feel free to request :)

Nanami Kento wasn’t the type to do anything that could hurt you. In fact, he was always really careful about it because he loved you so much ; doing anything bad to you was probably the worst thing for him. But today was complicated. 

He had a difficult day, a way too long one which seemed to never come to an end. You tried to text him, because you started to worry as he was usually never this late. Except that you didn’t think he would be this harsh to you. His messages were dry, more than they have ever been to you. It was almost like you were annoying him. 

You decided to wait until he came home, so you could understand what was happening. But when he finally came back, he didn’t even glance in your direction. You stood up to welcome him, but your husband simply made his way to the kitchen without caring about your presence. It hurt, you had to admit it. He never treated you this way and you thought that you did something wrong. 

You decided to leave him alone, not wanting to be more of a burden than you already seemed to be to him. You joined the living room again, sitting on the couch and taking back the book you were previously reading. Maybe it would help you think about something else. 

As Kento was drinking the coffee he just made, as it would be a good idea, a long sigh left his lips. He turned around to say something, before he noticed that you were gone. This is when he realized what he had done since he came home. He closed his eyes, another sigh leaving his lips. He massaged his temple for a moment, before he came back to the living room. 

He simply walked towards you, before kneeling in front of you. You put your book on the side, a slight frown over your face. What was he doing exactly? Nanami took the book from your hands, putting it on the table behind him. Then, he took your hand between his and left a kiss on top of it. You finally met his gaze, and you could see how tired he seemed to be. 

“I’m sorry my love, I shouldn’t have acted this way with you. Forgive me, please,” he said, and you didn’t give him the time to say anything more. You made him stand up, and guided him to sit next to you on the couch. Kento let you do it, as he didn’t have the strength to disagree anyway. 

In no time, he was now laying down on the couch, with his head on your thighs. Your fingers were slowly running through his hair, and he had his eyes closed. He could almost be falling asleep right now. Nobody was able to ease his heart and his mind as much as you could do it. 

“How about you take a few days off? You need it, Kento,” you started, and he simply hummed as an answer. You were probably right, he really needed those days to take some time. Not only for himself, but also for you. You deserved to be treated better, and he was ready to spend his days off only by taking care of you. You were the best thing that ever happened in his life.

as I always say, here's the best husband anyone could dream of <3 thank you for reading!!