#his expression when she says he made her feel worthless :(((

[zoennes]

[kihyunsflavor]

Cold shoulder

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x f!reader

Summary: You are married to Feyd-Rautha, but on his birthday Margot Fenring follows him in the hallways to lure him into her chambers.

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, angst, pet names, breeding kink, manipulation (not reader)

word count: 4.6k

Author's note: English is not my first language. Feedback is very much appreciated <3

A cold breeze grazes your skin as the door to your shared chambers opens, sending a shiver down your spine. He enters with heavy steps and your breath stops for a moment when you catch a foreign feminine scent in the air. You immediately know.

"I'm back, wife," Feyd Rautha says, slowly approaching where you stand. You don't respond. A painful lump forms in your throat as your emotions are all over the place. Big hands gently grab your waist from behind. The scent of the woman still lingers on his skin. It tightens your chest and turns your stomach. You have never felt so sick before. She had her hands on him and he allowed it.

You don't want to believe your own thoughts, wishing this reality wasn't true. She had taken him from you. Your beloved husband, the person you love more than anyone else, with whom you share everything. He is the center of your world.

You turn to face him. "You're back late..." you say, your voice steady but your lower lip quivering.

For a split second, his expression wavers, confirming your suspicions. Feyd starts to speak, but you cut him off. "Don't bother lying. I can smell her on you."

His eyes widen, a hint of guilt flickering across his face, an emotion you've never seen from him before.

"I didn't want to. The witch invaded my mind," he attempts to explain. But you can't believe him. Not after this. He humiliated you, made you feel worthless.

His hand reaches for your cheek but you push it way. „Don‘t touch me.“

Oh how could he betray you like this? How could he share such an intimate moment with another woman?

„I can't believe you did this," you sway, your voice trembling with dissapointment. Tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. He's not worth your tears. Not a single one.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. His words pierce your heart, shattering it into pieces.

It kills you.

The room falls into a heavy silence. His eyes plead with you, his hands twitching as if wanting to pull you close. The very thought makes you cringe.

"I never want to see you again," you say as you move past him. He reaches out for you, but you're too quick. Just before disappearing into the dark corridor, you look back at him. "It hurts - so much."

With that, you're gone.

Feyd doesn't follow. He knows he destroyed everything.

You move into a new section of the Harkonnen residence, consisting of a bedroom and a study, far away from your husband. All your belongings and clothes are brought in by your servants to help you settle into your new quarters. You hear whispers among the servants about Feyd's initial anger, refusing to let them move your belongings. Eventually, he seemed to give in and just let them continue, which was unusual for someone like him who rarely yielded so easily. But you pay it no mind, trying to forget about him. He did this to himself.

The first few nights are horrible. You struggle to sleep, feeling alone and haunted by nightmares of him. Each time you see a black veiled woman, luring him into her chambers. When you wake up, your clothes cling to your sweaty skin. You brush your hair back from your face and scan the dimly lit room. It is pretty similar to your old chambers but you've tried to make it feel different with some interior changes.

You hadn't yet discovered who the Bene Gesserit was that had been with your husband, but you were determined to find out.

With your family's influential name, you planned to write to your sister, hoping she could uncover the truth for you.

The days go by slowly, and to your relief you don't see Feyd at all. The pain of looking into his eyes would be too much to bear. Your heart was broken and would take a long time to heal.

You'd never known love before, never had any real crushes growing up. But then, you were sent to marry the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. You hadn't objected, obediently following your father's wishes. Meeting Feyd changed everything. He ignited a passion within you, made you feel enchanted and yearning for him.

Even if he was cold at first, Feyd proved to be a devoted husband. Drawn to your beautiful appearance and your kind but brave soul, it didn't take him long to warm up to you. You could tell he had fallen for you too.

The wedding night marked the peak of your feelings for him, deepening your love. You were nervous he might handle you roughly, especially since it was your first time, so you had asked him not to hurt you. „That‘s what concubines are for. I'd never hurt my wife,“ Feyd had assured you then, having already dismissed his concubines prior to the wedding.

But in the end, his words proved to be a lie. He had kept his promise until now, when he let the Bene Gesserit woman touch him.

It was hard to believe Feyd had done something like this. Loyalty and trust were values he held in high regard. He always looked down on those who lacked loyalty; it was a matter of honor to him.

And now here you are, sitting alone at the table to eat your dinner. You had instructed your servants to bring your meals to your chambers from now on, because there was no chance you'd dine with your husband. Even if he came to fetch you himself, you wouldn't budge an inch. But Feyd hasn't come. Days have passed since you left him, and he still hasn't shown his face, which you're really relieved about.

He knew you well, knew that you needed space, but this time it was different. He couldn't just apologize and gift you something to make amends. This time, there was nothing for you to forgive him for. And if the Bene Gesserit were to get pregnant before you, his actual wife, it would be unbearable.

The thought fills you with anger and jealousy. You wouldn't allow this to happen. You should be the only one to give him an heir.

As you return to your room after a brief stroll through your section, you're surprised to find several packages awaiting you. Despite your reservations, Feyd has still chosen to send gifts. Walking over to inspect them, a servant appears at your side, bowing slightly.

"Na-Baroness, the na-Baron has sent some gifts for you. He hopes you will accept them," the servant explains. Your gaze drifts over the variously sized boxes, and a sigh escapes your lips. "We will send them back. All of them," you declare after a moment. "But let me have a look first." Kneeling down, you carefully open each package, mindful not to damage anything.

Among them are dresses, exquisitely crafted and likely from your home planet. Another holds a perfume you adore, also from your planet. Then there are the traditional Harkonnen jewelry, reserved only for the Baron and his family. You can't help but chuckle at Feyd's selection.

Once you've examined everything, the servants gather the gifts along with your message: Don't ever insult me like this again

Even if this was just the beginning of his attempts to seek forgiveness, Feyd's gesture of sending mere gifts felt somewhat childish.

Days later, you decide to attend the fight held in the Harkonnen arena, knowing full well that Feyd would be present. However, you choose to sit in a secluded area, far removed from his presence.

Your attire consists of a dark red silk dress, a change from your usual colors as the na-Baroness, which typically align with the Harkonnen house's black with silver or red accents. Your jewelry, crafted from rare opal from your home planet, catches the light, accentuating your eyes and lending a radiant glow to your appearance.

Accompanied by two of your favorite servants, you make your way to a seating area. As you settle in, a pair of glasses are provided, allowing you a clearer view of the participants in the fighting circle below.

Slowly, you navigate through the crowd, observing the excitement of the people of Giedi Prime for the fight. Your gaze shifts upward, focusing on the Baron seated high above the arena, his imposing presence making you feel unease. He emanates a terrifying and volatile energy that unsettles you every time.

Continuing on, you reach the spot where the na-Baron and you usually sit. Feyd stands alone in his black suit, his gaze fixed on you. He had waited until you noticed him.

Feeling a twinge in your stomach, you deliberately drop your glasses with controlled movements, concealing the effect his presence has on you. Redirecting your attention to the fighters entering the arena, you're grateful for something to distract you.

Yet, his image replays in your mind. His eyes betray a hint of sadness, dark circles evident beneath his pale complexion. But he had brought this upon himself.

If he hadn't allowed the Bene Gesserit to touch him, you would have been there beside him as always, watching the fight unfold, with his hand possessively resting on your thigh.

Even after a week apart, the pain remains just the same.

The fight was not big spectacle, but it was enough for the crowd. You swiftly retreat to your chambers, after receiving the sign from a servant that the Baron had left. Casting one last glance at Feyd's area, you see his back turned to you. He's likely leaving as well, and you really have no desire to encounter him in the hallways

When you wake up two days later, you notice a basket of fresh fruits sitting on your table. Approaching the gift, you find a small card attached to the handle. Opening it slowly, you read Feyd's handwriting: Please accept these valuable fruits. Feyd.

You stare at the words for a moment, then shift your gaze to the basket. Inside, you see a variety of fruits, many of which are from your own planet and are your favorites —a fact Feyd surely knew. Yet, despite the apparent gesture, you still feel slighted by the simplicity of the gift.

With a dismissive gesture, you instruct the servants to take the basket away. "Share it among the others and send the same message to the na-Baron as before," you command, retreating to your bedroom.

An upcoming event required your presence as husband and wife, na-Baron and na-Baroness. Three days beforehand, you already felt nauseous and contemplated skipping it altogether. However, the Baron's potential anger left you with no choice but to attend.

As the special day approaches, you pace nervously around the room. The prospect of having to play the role of Feyd's wife again fills you with dread. Despite the difficulty, you resign yourself to the task, knowing you must suppress your true emotions and maintain a facade of affection, hiding behind a gentle smile.

In the morning, you receive a package from Feyd, containing a dress intended for the upcoming gathering. The garment, adorned in Harkonnen colors, is tailored to complement his own attire, ensuring a flawless appearance as a couple.

As the servants begin to prepare you for the event, they dress you, adorn you with jewelry, and style your hair elegantly. Avoiding the mirror as much as possible, you can't help but feel a bit of discomfort at the sight of the dress, which reminds you too much of him. The idea that it signifies your connection to him is unsettling, especially since his betrayal with another woman. Prior to that, you had cherished moments when he selected dresses for you or had jewelry crafted from your birthstone.

Once you're ready, you steal a quick glance at your reflection, observing how the dress accentuates your figure. Despite looking beautiful, the nausea persists. You so badly wish to just remain secluded in your chambers, away from him.

Two servants accompany you as you make your way to the grand halls where your husband awaits in front of the towering doors. You catch a glimpse of him, dressed in all black and feel the familiar pain in your chest. It's as if your lungs are pulling themselves together, stealing the air from you.

His gaze is sweeping over you and a faint grin tugs at his lips, but he stops himself quickly. "Good morning, wife," Feyd says, with his deep raspy voice and offers his arm to you. He seems content to see your face up close after two weeks. You halt before him, meeting his towering figure with a glare that could pierce steel. He recognizes the expression, but doesn't show any reaction. You hook your arm into his, taking a deep breath before walking into the grand hall together.

As the event unfolds, nobels from across the galaxy mingle, their voices a symphony of polite conversation. Among them stands the imposing figure of the Baron, his presence commanding attention.

You stand next to Feyd, occasionally engaging in some small talk with others. Despite the pain and betrayal that lingers in between you, you play the roles with practiced ease, upholding the appearance of a happy couple. Yet inside, you feel dull.

In a moment alone, Feyd wraps his arm around your waist. "Let's talk later, wife." He says and gazes into your eyes. You lower your head, staring at his chest and offering no response until he pulls you closer to his body. Slowly, you raise your head and to meet his gaze.

"No, I don't think so," You reply, placing a hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away. But he holds firm, studying your eyes in an attempt to understand your emotions.

"There's nothing to explain, na-Baron," you hiss, putting some distance between the two of you. "I don't want to hear anything. And stop sending me gifts!"

Feyd blinks at your response and takes a step forward. "Just let me finish my sentence. Things have happened that I regret deeply, but I need you to understand why," he begins to explain, but you shake your head. Tears well up in your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a whimper. "No, no…" Your lips quiver as you respond with a weak voice. "Even just thinking about it hurts me too much." With those final words, you turn on your heel and walk away. Glancing briefly at the Baron to ensure he's occupied, you slip out of the grand hall and return to your chambers.

Your heart races, nearly pounding out of your chest. Feyd's scent made you dizzy, made you longing for him, but you refuse to succumb. You were not one to give in quickly, not even to his beautiful blue eyes. His lips had twitched, after you had raised your head to look at him - his love always displayed so openly for you, unlike his usual expressionless demeanor. And despite everything, you still love him too, but the thought of going back to him, fills you with disgust and pain. He's the one who made you feel this way.

It was not a good night, and the days that followed were just as bleak. The dull ache persisted, and you drift through each day like a ghost. Emptiness pervades every moment, blurring the world around you into a haze. And despite showing not a single emotion to the world, you feel the pain, longing for the warmth of connection that is lost.

After a week had passed since the event, the reply from your older sister finally arrived. You hastily open it, eager to learn whether the Bene Gesserit woman was pregnant. You understood the ways of the Bene Gesserit and didn't object to them, except in this case, where one woman dared to interfere in your marriage. It was all about control.

Since you weren't part of the sisterhood, they needed to ensure a child was born from Feyd that they could raise according to their teachings. However, if they had approached you with a deal for your own child to become a Bene Gesserit, you might not have disagreed.

But this time, you were determined to stand in their way. She wasn't worthy enough to bear your husband's child, especially considering you weren't even pregnant yourself yet.

With trembling hands, you open the scroll and begin to read the message.

Dear sister,

I am deeply troubled by the news you've shared with me. I did not expect this from the na-Baron. But don't worry too much, as I have located the Bene Gesserit. Her name is Margot Fenring, the wife of Count Fenring, the Emperor's advisor. Unfortunately, I couldn't find out why the sisterhood chose her, and I haven't received any updates on a possible pregnancy. Rest assured, I will inform you immediately once I learn more.

With all my love,

Your sister

You stare at the message, sighing heavily. Margot Fenring was a well-known figure in the galaxy, particularly admired for her beauty. Her hair was of a golden blonde with grey-green eyes and attractive figure. However, you weren't concerned about feeling inferior to her; you knew your own beauty had captivated Feyd from the moment he had laid his eyes on you.

The burning question on your mind wasn't why the revered mother had chosen her to seduce Feyd, but rather why she had to intervene at all, and whether she was now carrying his child.

The waiting was unbearable in a situation like this.

A knock sounds on your door, as you put the roll in the drawer of your desk. Curious, you turn around, wondering who could be seeking your attention. Apart from your husband and his two family members, you didn't know anyone else.

With caution, you open the door, only to be met with the sight of Feyd-Rautha. Disappointment flashes across your face, and you sigh, almost closing the door on him again. But Feyd has other plans, his hand holding the door open and making his way into your chambers. Surprised, you walk back a few steps and stare at him. "What are you doing?" you ask, confusion evident in your tone. He doesn't respond, maintaining a cold stare that sends a shiver down your spine. He appears angry or, at the very least, annoyed by your behavior.

As the back of your knees touch your bed, he stops in front of you. "This time, you will listen, wife, or I will tie you to the bed. You can't run away from me every time," Feyd says with a deep, raspy voice. You blink up at him, uncertain of what to do. Part of you wants to escape the uncomfortable situation and to avoid listening to him. But in this moment, he holds full control over you.

A cold finger grazes your jawline softly, lifting your head up. He comes closer, his breath tingling on your skin. "You better listen carefully now. I will explain everything that has happened. Alright?" he tells you, and all you can do is nod your head obediently.

"On this day while I was on my way back to you, I noticed a woman following me. I questioned her about her presence in the area, and she began to manipulate my mind. With a mere blink, I found myself in the witch's room, unable to recall anything except for her whispers in my head," Feyd explains seriously, maintaining eye contact with you.

"She then used the voice on me and forced me to place my hand in a box while holding a sharp object coated with poison to my neck. After passing her test, she continued to use the voice on me throughout the whole time. I couldn't do anything else than listen to her. I tried to break free many times and every time a picture of you flashed in my mind, she redirected my attention back to her," he continues, his eyes darkening as he recounts the experience. You can see the distress he's in as he speaks.

Slowly, your hand raises to cup his cheek, offering comfort. He leans into your touch, visibly relaxing. "Do you know why she came to you?" you inquire, once his nerves are calmed. He nods vaguely. "I am the one who will inherit the title as Baron next, and since you are not a Bene Gesserit, they sent one of them to find out my weakness."

His answer sinks in, and you agree. "That's what I was thinking as well."

Feyd's hands gently cup your face as he leans closer. "I missed you so much, little mouse," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his touch, which you've missed dearly.

"What if she is pregnant?" concern creeps into your voice. Feyd meets your gaze, his eyes filled with determination. "Don't worry, my dear. She won't live to give birth to it, if we receive word that she's carrying a baby," he assures you. "You are the only woman who will give me an heir," he adds with a smirk.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "I should have listened earlier. I just couldn't bear it. Nothing made sense anymore," you whisper, your lips brushing against his cheek. He hums in reply, pressing his lips to yours in a long-awaited kiss.

It turns into a heavy makeout session. With tender care, he guides you onto the bed, slowly undressing you as if savoring every moment of intimacy. As he moistens his fingers with his tongue and begins to pump them inside of you, a soft moan escapes your lips, reveling in the sensation of his touch.

Your body arches with pleasure as he prepares you for him, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. "Feels so good," you murmur, lost in the sensation. Feyd's grin widens as he leans over you, his touch both tender and tantalizing.

When he decides you're ready, he withdraws his fingers, eliciting a soft whine of longing from you. "It's alright, my little mouse. I will give you what you want," he shushes. As he frees himself from his pants, your hand instinctively reaches for him, eager to feel his hardness in your grasp.

A low groan escapes him at your touch, but he gently removes your hand, his own need evident in his impatient tone. "Not now," He says, his voice thick with lust. "I can't wait any longer to be inside you." With a sense of urgency, he positions himself between your legs, ready to claim you completely.

He gazes down at you with love and care. "You won’t be able to walk tomorrow," he warns with a sly grin, teasing as he lets the tip of his arousal slide between your heated folds before thrusting inside you.

Once fully sheathed within your tight walls, he leans over you, his arms caging your head to support his weight. In this position, he is able to see your face much better. "I will make you forget everything that pained you these past weeks. You are mine," he growls possessively with his lips attached to the sensitive skin of your neck as his hips begin to move in a rhythmic thrust.

At first, his movements are slow and deliberate, punctuated by tender kisses, until you relax completely under his touch and he increases the pace. Your legs are lifted up over his shoulders, allowing him to penetrate even deeper, luring whimpers of pleasure from you as your nails dig into the porcelain skin of his back.

"So tight. Taking me so well, little mouse," he praises softly near your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Your walls contract around him, gripping him tighter, causing him to groan in pleasure. "Stop it, I'm not going to last if you keep tightening up like this," he warns you, his head falling back in pleasure.

But the sensation feels too good to stop, and you beg him to just come inside you with your voice hazy with desire. Feyd's eyes sparkle at your pleads. "Touch yourself," He orders, encouraging you.

It doens't take long for you to reach your climax, gripping his shoulders for support and screaming his name. He watches your face intently, praising you. "Yes that's it, good girl. Come on my cock."

Without letting you fully come down from your high, he starts to thrust deeper. “Going to fill you up now, you want that?” You whine at his words, nodding impatiently. “You'll look beautiful with my baby inside of you, all big and swollen.” His words drive you insane and with each thrust, he pushes you both closer.

With a final thrust, he releases himself inside you, bringing you to another climax as the room fills with both of your cries of pleasure.

"Afterwards, he takes good care of you, cleaning your sensitive skin with a wet cloth and ensuring you're comfortable in bed. His arms find their way around your body, pulling you closer.

"I haven't slept well since you left," he admits, nuzzling his face into your neck. You chuckle at the sensation because it tickles.

"I also slept horribly," you respond, your hand caressing the back of his neck. But tonight, you sleep better than you have in weeks, knowing your husband is right there beside you, and you never want to let go again.

Fortunately, it's only a week later when another message from your sister reaches you. As you read through it with full concentration, a lump forms in your throat due to the wave of emotions that washes over you.

"She's not pregnant," you inform Feyd, who stands before you. His eyes visibly brighten with relief and he moves closer to embrace you tightly. No words are needed, you can feel each other's emotions clearly.

"Don't worry, my dear. I'll deal with the punishment for the Bene Gesserit," Feyd assures you after a while of holding each other. His anger still simmers, just as intense as the night Margot Fenring used the voice on him. He won't let it slide easily.

You find comfort in knowing that Feyd will handle the situation, likely with the help of his uncle, the Baron. But for now, you push aside all thoughts of pain, focusing on the relief of the moment.

On the same day, after rearranging the last few items in your shared chamber, which you hastily moved back into, a gleaming blade catches your eye. Your husband possesses a collection of blades in various sizes and styles, but you recognize this one as his favorite - the one he always carries with him. You approach the desk and study the blade intently.

Suddenly, strong arms wrap around your body, and you gasp quietly in surprise. "This one is for you," Feyd whispers behind you. Your eyes remain fixed on the knife, his words sinking in.

This blade holds significant importance to him, having accompanied your husband since his childhood when he first learned to fight. It's a profound gesture of trust and affection that he would gift it to you now. Despite the Harkonnen's reputation for brutality and coldness, they occasionally reveal their emotions to those they love. This blade serves as a metaphor, symbolizing Feyd's gift of his heart to you forever.

[freshxsturniolo]

im sorry - chris sturniolo x femreader

summary : in which you and chris get into your worst argument yet, to the point you think its all over.

warnings : angst, arguing, fluff.

"do you think you should maybe, slow down?" your friend whispers from the side of you as you finish yet another vodka soda. you wipe at your lip as a small bit of the liquid missed your mouth and turn to her, hitting the glass on the table a little harder than intend.

"my relationship is as good as finished. no. i need another." you say. a sentence that just a few weeks ago would have had you sobbing, but now just made you angry.

you had promised yourself that you would never let any man treat you like you were worthless. you'd never simp for a man so hard that you'd be crying in your bed alone. and yet chris sturniolo had ticked every box.

he was your sweetheart. the first person to show you what true love was. but your too different personalities had finally hit heads. you arguments over the last month where harsh. unforgiving, almost. and yet you still stayed. both of you did.

but tonight had been different. you hadn't spoken in two days, despite living in the same house. he preoccupied himself with work, which was understandable, and you preoccupied yourself with everything but his presence. but when his brother and your best friend nick asked you both over dinner to talk to each other, you world had shattered.

"can you both please just talk this out? i dont know the extent of your argument but this is becoming unbearable."

you had looked at nick with a sorry expression on your face. you did feel bad, the triplets had been more than nice enough to allow you to move in and you hated the hostile feeling you were both bringing to the house, but when you looked back at chris, his eyes on his plate, and he shrugged, you felt your heart in your throat.

when he uttered the words. "i don't think theres anything left to say anymore", your world broke.

you stood up from your chair immediately, a silence around the table that was unbearable, and you kept your eyes trained on your boyfriend. but he didn't look up. you nodded, before you looked at both nick and matt, there eyes on you in a sympathetic glare, and you gave them a smile before you removed yourself, running down the stairs and out into the fresh air. you couldn't even summon tears.

so you headed to the bar. you rang your friend, who was there in a flash, but you were five drinks down by that point and you had no plans to stop.

"you're being ridiculous" your friend said now, holding your wrist and dragging you down as you went to stand up, you stumbled back into your chair and she gave you an eye. "you both need time to cool off."

you scoffed. "cool off?” you say again, looking back towards the bar.

"where is nick? or matt?" your friend says now and you shrug.

"have they not text?" she asks.

"nick followed me out" you say, remembering back to just an hour ago.

the anger that surged through you when hit the fresh air and out into the driveway was unbearable. this had been going on for too long, you yourself could admit that. argument after argument after argument. but for chris to not even look at you, and utter words so heartbreaking in the presences of his brothers without speaking to you privately? you felt embarrassed. angry.

“y/n” you heard nick shout when you were only half way down the driveway, and you turned to him immediately. you were angry but you weren’t going to take it out on him. he was your best friend. he had seen the hurt in your eyes even though you had tried to push it down over the last two days of silence between you and chris.

“please, come back in” he had said, and you give him a sympathetic smile.

“i need to walk this off, nick” you say, and he sighed when he finally reached you. you held out your arms immediately and he was bringing you in for an embrace within seconds.

“do you want me to come with you?” he had said, and you smiled.

“be there for chris”

“what he just said to you in there was uncalled for. matts with him, i want to be here for you”

you smiled. “he’s your brother. and i think he just broke up with me. he can act the tough guy all he wants, i know he’ll want you” you said.

he didn’t tell you but nick was in awe of you. he could see your anger and your upset, could see the way you didn’t know if to scream or cry, and yet your resilience in that moment he thought was admirable. you were completely unaware of the conversations that were happening in the house after that moment whilst you were now sat with your friend, but for the time being you didn’t care.

your friend let out a sigh as you finally scrambled out of her grip, declining your offer of a drink you were going to buy her as you walk across to the bar. it was busy, and you were already swaying from left to right as you used the bar to steady yourself.

“what’s a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone?”

your head whipped up at the sound of the voice. a man you did not recognise leant against the bar at the side of you, his eyes looking you up and down. you knew instantly there was nothing sleazy or untoward about him. his aura gave off nothing but positivity, so you cracked a smile.

“oh, you know. just letting my hair down”

he laughed. “no boyfriend? or girlfriend? sorry, i don’t want to assume”

you smiled. “boyfriend.” you confirm. “no, hes -“

and there it is. the hurt hits you. you look up at the man who's smiling at you, already stepped back an inch after you had told him you had a boyfriend, and the argument springs up again.

"hes not here." you utter, before a laugh escapes you. where was he? you grab your phone from your pocket, no messages having coming through. you think back to the way it was nick that chased you out the door, and not him. and suddenly you feel sick. you look at the man stood in front of him and you utter a sorry before you turn on your heel, heading towards the your friend who's sat watching you from the table you were just at.

"i need to go" you say, and she looks at you for a second before standing up.

"i'll take you" she says. you nod, unable to even thank her with the surge of emotions that run through your body. you had jumped into an uber on the way here and your friend had driven, clearly knowing she wasn't going to end up drinking with you. really, she knew you wouldn't last long before you wanted to head home, so to her this was planning out exactly as she imagined.

you reach the outside of the bar, just a small one not even 10 minutes from the triplets house and the fading sunset hits you, you can feel the lump in your throat. your friend grabs hold of your arm as she pulls you down towards the street and to her car, but when you're half way there she finally speaks to you, noticing that your energy has shifted ever so slightly since being outside and the LA sunshine hitting your skin.

"are you okay?" she asks, and you look away from the skyline to her. and you laugh.

"no. no im not."

she gives you a sympathetic smile. "you're angry, i can tell. but i feel theres more too it. please dont give up on each other."

you nod as you reach her car, climbing into the passenger seat as she unlocks it and gets into the driver side after ensuring you're settled. she gives you another smile before she pulls off into the street, and you try your best to calm down. there were so many things you wanted to say to him. you wanted to scream at him. you wanted to cry at him. you wanted to ask him where it had all gone wrong.

youre so submerged in your own thoughts that you don't even realised when you pull up outside. you jerk your head up and let out a loud sigh, before looking to your friend.

"do you need a minute?" she says. "you look like you're going to cry. dont let him see you cry."

you smile as you reach over and give her a hug. "im okay. i'll be okay. thank you, so much."

you get out of the car and shut the door, double checking your pockets for your belongings. you could tell you were drunk, it had been an hour since you stepped off the driveway and ordered an uber to the bar and you'd drank way too quick, so you gather yourself as your friend drives off. taking a deep breath, looking up at the sky as the darkness finally sets in.

when you feel okay enough, you let out a large breath before turning on your heel, making your way up the drive way. you dont know what you were going to say. you were angry. you were hurt. and you feared when you did see him, you'd finally break down.

reaching the door to the house you unlock it slowly and quietly, needing a few more minutes before you saw anyone, but when you heard the three of them upstairs, you let out a breath. you're not sure what they're talking about, but you can make out the mumble of chris' voice and you turn on your heel, heading towards your shared bedroom, quietly opening and closing the door behind you.

when the door clinks shut, you lean against it, letting out a sigh of relief. but it hurts. you're drunk. you're feeling everything at once and the tears flow. pulling your hand over your mouth to muffle any noise, you make your way to the bathroom.

but he's heard you. the door opens, and his voice fills the room.

"baby" he says. and you snap.

spinning on your heel, you move your hand from your mouth. you know you look a mess. fresh tears on your cheeks. hair in a messy bun. you feel embarrassed that you'd even gone to the bar looking the way you did but in the moment it felt right.

chris' eyes widen when he sees you.

"fuck. baby -"

"baby!?" you spit. "baby?!"

and you see his adams apple move as he takes a gulp.

"please don't-"

"don't what?!" you spit. you take a deep gulp as you compose yourself, wiping under your eyes to take away the tears. you didn't want to argue. you didn't want to cry. but there was something inside you that was raging. "don't what, chris?"

"listen to me, please" he says, and walks over to your, grabbing at your wrists, but you pull them away immediately and head towards the bathroom. he's close behind you. "im so sorry, baby. im so so sorry"

you spin around immediately, and he accidentally walks into your chest. you take a slight step back at the side time as him, and your breath is harsh. "sorry? for what, chris? for talking to me like a piece of shit in front of your brothers? for ignoring for me the last two days? can you even remember what we were arguing about?"

"no but-"

"but what?!" you say, and the tears are falling again. "but what, chris? do you want to break up? do you want this to end? because thats what it sounds like to me and i'd prefer for you to tell me privately that in front of your brothers, because-"

"stop it, y/n. stop it!" he says, and he grabs at your hands again, but you pull them away, stepping beside him to reenter his bedroom. but you come to a stop. because you don't know where to go. you need to have this conversation. you know you do. but you're drunk, you're hungry, you're all of a sudden irritated and overstimulated.

so you cry. again. and you spin around to look at him as he to reenters his bedroom. he's crying to.

"please, listen to me" he chokes.

"i dont-"

"baby, stop it." he says, and he rushes right over to your side, taking your hands in his. you pull them away again, but this time he doesn't accept it.

"fuck, you're killing me." he says, and this time he grabs your wrists, pulling them up and stepping forward, trapping your arms in his hands in-between the both of yours chest.

"get off me" you say, but you don't mean it. you're angry but the first bit of physical touch from him in 2 days feels electrifying.

"no." he says, and you sniffle a cry before looking into his eyes. they too, rimmed with tears. this close you realise that they're too raw, and his lips are too swollen to have only just started crying.

"have you been crying?" you whisper, and he laughs. only slightly, but its a laugh, a smile appears on your face to.

"i love you." he starts. "I know that much is true. i dont know what the fuck has happened to us but i fucking love you. so much it hurts sometimes actually. i think thats why I coward away when we do fight. i cant handle it, y/n. i cant handle when you look at me when you're hurt or upset, it's easier to walk away and let us both cool off. and i know thats wrong, fuck nick and matt have just had my life about it, and im sorry."

you look at him. searching his face. his hair. feeling his hands and body on yours.

"why do we even fight, chris?" you ask now.

"i dont know, baby."

"am i too much? was moving in with you too much?"

he shakes his head immediately. "no, god no please dont think that."

you sigh, and he finally removes his hands from your arms. you take a step back, sitting on his bed, and he comes to join you.

"im so sorry for what i said earlier. i was being stubborn." he says, and you laugh slightly.

"we both were, chris. two days of ignoring each other."

he laughs too, and he places his hand on your thigh. you don't flinch away, but you don't reach for it either.

"do you want to be with me, chris? tell me the truth. because i can't keep being hurt like this. im not blaming you, either. its me, too."

he turns slightly to look at you, and you can see the genuine panic in his eyes. "if you were to break up with me, i dont know how i would survive. i mean it. i dont know why i said what i said earlier. embarrassed maybe, that nick had mentioned it. embarrassed i had let it carry on for two days. i dont know. but i know im sorry. not just for that but for all the times we argue."

the tears have brimmed in your eyes again and you let out a small smile, finally bringing your hand to his.

"I think we are both incredibly stubborn." you start. "and easily hot headed. and you're a social butterfly when i sometimes like to chill."

"i know" chris admits.

"but i love you, so much. i shouldn't have ran out earlier." you admit, and chris shakes his head.

"no. i shouldn't have let nick run after you. it should have been me." he says.

"its okay." you say now.

"do you forgive me?" chris asks, and just his face alone, his beautiful yet saddened face, makes you want to cry.

"yes. and you me?"

he laughs. "yes."

you chuckle, and then you finally lean in, his lips on yours. arguments were normal, you had to remind yourself that. but deep down, you loved this man to death, and he you.

when you finally pull away from your kiss, your first kiss in days, chris grabs your face in his hands. "im going to marry you, one day."

you heart jumps. "that so?"

he nods. "i already told nick and matt."

"when?"

he smiles. "when nick came back and gave me an ear full after speaking to you outside. he told me what you said. the way you were angry but you knew i would want him to be there. and it just blurted out."

you smile, a sense of relief washing over you.

"because i love you, dumbass. even if you do get on my last nerve sometime."

he chuckles, pressing his lips against yours.

"you stink of vodka" he mumbles in your lips, and you smile.

"im celebrating."

he pulls away, giving you another eye. "celebrating what?"

you chuckle. "my man wants to marry me one day." and you crash your lips against his once more.

[hjvi]

𝙉𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙜𝙞𝙖

Pairing: Bf!Chris x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Chris breaks your heart, you revisit your most cherished memories with him in therapy, trying to understand what made you love him—and why it all fell apart.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Heartbreak. Angst.

Word Count: 8.4k

The sterile smell of the therapist’s office clung to the air, an odd mix of cleanliness and something far too clinical. It was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of a clock hanging on the pale blue wall. I sat on the couch, my knees pulled tightly to my chest, gripping a tissue in one hand and twisting it nervously with my fingers. My therapist, Dr. Callahan, sat across from me in her chair, her expression warm but slightly firm, like she was waiting for me to unravel a ball of string I’d been clutching for weeks.

I stared at the floor, avoiding her eyes. We’d been doing this for weeks now—me, showing up, talking about anything but him. The sessions felt like a game of tug-of-war with my own mind, each side pulling harder but neither winning. The mere thought of saying his name out loud made my chest tighten, my breath quicken, and tears spring to my eyes.

Dr. Callahan sighed gently. "I notice we always seem to steer away from talking about Chris. And I’m not saying we need to dive into that, but I do want to talk about how you're managing your anxiety. It seems like it’s flaring up more than usual.”

That was an understatement. My anxiety had been suffocating, like being stuck in a maze I couldn’t navigate. And the pills—the little pills that kept my head above water—were sitting on Chris’s nightstand.

“I, um...” I swallowed hard. “I haven’t been taking my meds.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“They’re... they’re at Chris’s house,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. My throat burned as tears threatened to spill over, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold them back. “I can’t go there. I can’t face him.”

She nodded slowly, leaning forward. “Okay. Let’s unpack this together. How are you feeling after the breakup?”

And there it was—the question I’d been running from. My breath hitched, and I felt a tear slide down my cheek. “Horrible,” I croaked. “I—I can’t even think about him without crying. I can’t do anything without—”

The tears came faster now, and I wiped at them with the crumpled tissue in my hand. “I haven’t been eating. I haven’t been sleeping. Everything just feels... pointless. Without him, nothing makes me happy. Nothing feels right. It’s like... my life is worthless without him.”

Dr. Callahan’s voice was calm, soothing. “Why do you feel like your life is worth nothing without Chris? What is it about him, about your relationship, that makes you feel this way?”

I hesitated, my heart pounding. “It’s... everything,” I said finally. “The way he made me feel. The way he looked at me, like I was the only person in the world. He made me laugh. He made me feel safe. Every good memory I have—it’s all with him.”

Dr. Callahan nodded again, her eyes steady on mine. “Okay. Let’s start there. Let’s talk about those memories. Let’s figure out what made them special, what brought you joy, so we can help you find that again in your life—even without Chris.”

I nodded slowly, my chest aching. “The first time I met him... that’s where it all started.”

The First Time I Met Him

The quiet hum of Nick’s desk lamp filled the space as I sat cross-legged on his carpet, flipping through my notes for our school project. His room was simple, with posters of bands tacked up on the walls and a faint smell of cologne lingering in the air. Nick sat across from me, scrolling through his laptop.

“You think this is enough to get us through the presentation?” I asked, holding up a neatly written outline.

Nick shrugged. “Probably. You’re, like, way more organized than me.”

I laughed softly and was about to reply when the sharp sound of a door slamming echoed through the house, followed by two unmistakably loud voices. My head snapped up.

“Bro, are you serious? That ref was blind!” one of the voices exclaimed, frustration dripping from his words.

“Blind? You literally tripped the guy, Chris,” the other retorted, their footsteps stomping closer with each passing second.

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at Nick. He rolled his eyes. “Ignore them. My brothers are... loud.”

Before I could ask, the bedroom door flew open, and in came two boys dressed in hockey gear, their faces slightly flushed from the cold. One of them, with dark brown hair and an easy smirk, was clearly mid-argument. The other, though, caught my attention instantly.

He was tall and lean, with tousled, medium-length brown hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times after practice. His striking blue eyes, full of energy and mischief, darted around the room before locking on mine. Time seemed to pause.

“Oh,” he said, the word barely audible as his jaw slackened slightly. His entire demeanor shifted in a split second—gone was the loud, restless energy from before. Instead, he straightened his posture, his hand awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks flushed just enough to be noticeable.

Nick groaned. “Chris, get out. We’re working.”

Chris didn’t move. His gaze was still on me, his lips parting like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

Finally, I broke the silence, offering a small smile. “Hi.”

Chris blinked, snapping out of whatever trance he was in. “Uh—hi! I mean, hey. What’s up?” His voice cracked slightly, and he winced before clearing his throat. “I’m Chris.”

Nick sighed, clearly annoyed. “She’s here for the project, Chris. Go bother Matt or something.”

But Chris ignored him, a grin creeping onto his face. “What’s your name?”

I told him, feeling my cheeks heat under his intense gaze. His smile widened, and he ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly trying to seem casual. “That’s a really pretty name,” he said, his Boston accent thick and unfiltered.

“Chris, seriously,” Nick cut in, standing up to shove his brother toward the door. “Out.”

Chris didn’t leave without a fight. He grabbed Nick’s arm, dragging him just outside the room. I could still hear their voices, though they were slightly muffled.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing a girl like her here?” Chris whisper-yelled, his tone laced with urgency.

Nick groaned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean! She’s—” Chris’s voice dropped slightly, as if trying to be quieter, but I could still make out his words. “She’s gorgeous.”

My face burned, and I stared down at my notebook, pretending not to hear.

Nick re-entered the room, looking both amused and exasperated. “Sorry about him. He thinks you’re, like, a goddess or something.”

I glanced up, meeting Nick’s teasing gaze. “What?” I asked, though the warmth in my cheeks betrayed me.

Nick laughed. “Chris has a massive crush on you already. Don’t let it go to his head.”

The sound of Chris and Matt bickering down the hall faded into the background as I tried to process everything. I didn’t know what to make of it—this boy I’d just met, with his loud laugh and dazzling blue eyes, who somehow managed to make my heart race without even trying.

First Time You Held Hands The Awkward Spark

It started out as nothing. A quick, careless movement, nothing intentional. But the second Chris’s hand brushed against mine, I felt it. A spark, sudden and completely unexpected, shot through me like static. I froze, my hand hovering in midair, unsure if I should pull away or leave it there. I hadn’t meant to linger, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him. His fingers were still close enough to mine that the space between us seemed almost too big to ignore.

Chris, as always, was oblivious to the effect he was having on me. He kept talking, gesturing wildly about something—probably sports or something equally loud and energetic—but I couldn’t focus on the words. My thoughts were tangled in the way his hand had touched mine so casually. So naturally.

I could feel the warmth of his skin where it had brushed against mine, and for a second, I wondered if he felt the same thing I did.

“Yo,” he said, his voice breaking through my thoughts. “Did you hear me?”

I blinked, trying to pull myself back into the moment. “Uh… yeah?”

He grinned, flashing that carefree smile of his, but there was something different in his eyes. Something softer. A shift that made my heart beat a little faster.

“You’re spaced out, huh?” he teased, nudging me with his elbow. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Nothing.”

His grin widened, and that was when I realized he was still really close—closer than I’d thought. He moved again, shifting his weight on the couch beside me, and this time, his fingers brushed against mine again. But this time, they lingered. Just for a second. Long enough that it didn’t feel like an accident.

I froze again, my heart thumping in my chest. I could feel the warmth of his hand, just a breath away from mine. I wasn’t sure if he was nervous too, but there was an undeniable energy between us now.

Then, as if he could sense my hesitation, Chris turned to face me fully, his expression suddenly serious, but there was a nervousness to it that I hadn’t expected. “You good?” he asked, his voice a little softer, like he was actually asking and not just making conversation.

I nodded, though I was sure he could tell something was off. “Yeah, just…” I trailed off, unsure how to put into words what I was feeling.

He leaned in a bit, his voice dropping a little. “I’m not gonna bite,” he said, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You can relax, you know?”

His hand shifted closer to mine again, and this time, before I could think about it, I gently placed my hand in his. The moment my fingers curled around his, something clicked—like everything I’d been unsure about, all the nervous energy that had been circling around us, suddenly made sense. His hand fit mine so easily, like it was meant to be there. The awkwardness melted away, replaced by something warmer, softer.

We didn’t say anything for a while. There was no need. The contact, the feeling of his hand in mine, was enough to fill the space between us. He didn’t squeeze my hand too tight, but his grip was firm enough to tell me he wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t going anywhere. And for a moment, I forgot about everything else—the confusion, the tension, the anxiety that had followed me around for weeks. It was just me and him. Just this.

I glanced up at him, and when our eyes met, I saw it—something that wasn’t there before. It was a little spark, a little light, and I could tell it wasn’t just me feeling it. He didn’t look away, just held my gaze, his thumb lightly tracing circles over my palm, sending a new kind of warmth through me.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice low, but his smile still there, softening the words.

I nodded, and I don’t think I could’ve smiled any wider. “Yeah. I’m good.”

For the first time in a long time, I really was.

I sat in Dr. Callahan’s office, tracing the edge of the couch with my finger, still unable to meet her eyes. The quiet hum of the room made my thoughts feel louder, but I kept going.

“I remember the first time he kissed me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t like how I’d imagined it—like a movie or something dramatic. It was just... us.”

She leaned in slightly, her calm, steady voice guiding me. “Tell me about it. What was it like for you?”

I closed my eyes, letting the memory come rushing back, the way it always did when I thought of him.

First Time He Kissed You The Moment the World Stopped

The air was thick with anticipation, like a storm on the verge of breaking, as you both sat there in the quiet of his room. The soft glow of the lamp cast a gentle warmth over everything, making the atmosphere feel cozy, intimate. You could hear the distant hum of the city outside, but everything inside felt suspended, as if time had slowed down just for this moment.

Chris was close, so close that you could feel his presence like a magnetic force, pulling you in without a word. His gaze was locked on you, and for the first time, you noticed how his eyes had shifted. The usual playful glint was still there, but underneath it was something else—something deeper, more vulnerable. It made your heart beat faster, a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside you.

You both sat in silence, the tension between you building with every passing second. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, and you could feel the heat of his gaze on you, making your skin flush.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice barely a whisper, but it sent a shiver down your spine. “Are you sure about this?” His words were soft, uncertain, as if he was asking for permission.

You swallowed, your throat dry, your heart pounding. There were no words, nothing more to be said. It was a question that needed no answer. Instead, you just nodded, your eyes not leaving his. In that moment, everything else faded away—the thoughts, the doubts, the worries. All that was left was him.

Chris didn’t need any more encouragement. His hand, which had been resting at his side, moved up slowly, his fingers brushing the side of your face, his touch light but purposeful. He seemed to be studying you, as if memorizing every detail before he closed the distance between you. His thumb traced your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine.

And then, without another word, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, as if you both were testing the waters. His lips were soft, and the warmth of them against yours made everything else in the room seem far away. You could taste the faint mint on his breath, feel the gentle pressure of his mouth as he leaned in a little deeper. It was everything—sweet, tender, and oh so careful.

His hand, still on your face, cupped your cheek, the warmth of his palm grounding you in the moment. You felt his fingers slide into your hair, pulling you closer. Your heart raced, your breath coming in shallow bursts, and you couldn’t help but respond, your lips moving against his with growing confidence.

He let out a soft, barely audible groan between the kisses, a sound so low, so raw, it made your entire body shiver in response. The sound of it sent a spark straight through you, igniting something deep inside. You felt the shift in his kiss, from gentle to hungry, as if he was searching for something deeper—something that only you could give him.

His hand slid down from your cheek to your neck, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your throat, sending heat radiating through your body. You felt his breath hitch as his lips parted slightly, his mouth moving with more urgency against yours.

Every kiss felt like a spark, igniting a flame inside you that you didn’t know you had. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, a silent question, a request, and you parted your lips, meeting him halfway. The kiss deepened, slower now, but with an intensity that left you breathless. The sensation of his lips on yours was intoxicating, every touch electrifying, and your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers.

His hands roamed, exploring the curve of your waist, pulling you closer, your bodies pressed together with a force that made your heart ache. You could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt, the way his body seemed to match yours in every movement. Each kiss was like a promise, each breath shared between you was another step deeper into something you couldn’t name but didn’t want to escape.

And then, just when you thought it couldn’t possibly get more intense, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. You both gasped for air, your faces inches apart, your breath mingling in the space between. His lips were swollen, slightly parted, and he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. That familiar mischievous glint was back in his eyes, but it was softer now, more intimate.

“Damn,” he whispered, voice rough from the kiss. “I’ve wanted that for so long.”

You laughed softly, still caught in the aftershocks of the kiss, your chest rising and falling quickly. “Yeah, me too,” you breathed, your fingers still resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For a moment, you just stayed there, your foreheads touching, both of you savoring the silence, the stillness of the moment. And in that silence, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something far deeper.

First Time He Wrote You Something

It wasn’t like Chris to do something so... thoughtful. He was always the one to crack a joke or do something spontaneous to make me laugh, but this? This was different.

It started out like any other day. We’d spent hours texting, trading stupid jokes and sending each other random things we found online. But then, a few hours later, I got a message from him that wasn’t like the rest.

“Check your mailbox.”

I stared at my phone, confused. What was he talking about? It was late, and we hadn’t talked about anything that would involve a physical letter. But curiosity tugged at me, and I figured I’d humor him.

I grabbed my jacket and headed outside, my mind swirling with questions I didn’t have answers to yet. The walk to the mailbox felt like an eternity, the cold air stinging my skin as I opened the metal box and found... a single, folded sheet of paper.

I pulled it out, trying to ignore how my hands were shaking slightly. Unfolding it, I saw his handwriting, neat but still unmistakably his. The words weren’t rushed, but carefully placed, like he’d taken the time to write this with purpose. I could feel something catch in my throat as I began to read.

Hey,

I’m not great at saying this stuff, but I need you to know. I’ve been thinking about you more than I probably should. When I’m with you, everything just makes sense. You don’t know it, but you’ve got this way of making everything lighter. You make me feel like I don’t have to be anyone but myself, and that’s not something I can say about a lot of people.

I don’t know what I’m doing with this, but I guess I just want you to know... I like you. A lot. And I’m not sure where this is going, but I’m in it. I just wanted you to know that.

Chris

I stood there, the paper pressed against my chest, not sure what to do with myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t know he liked me, but hearing it like this, reading it in his words, felt different. It felt real. It felt like something I wasn’t quite ready for, but something I also couldn’t ignore.

I laughed, almost nervously, at how my heart seemed to speed up, the way my chest felt tight, like there was something big happening in my life, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to admit it.

I stuffed the note into my pocket, trying to act normal, but the reality of what it meant settled in a few minutes later. This wasn’t just some fling or casual thing for Chris. He’d put himself out there, and I couldn’t ignore that.

First Time He Called Me His

It was late afternoon, and the park was full of life. A mix of families, groups of friends, and people just lounging around, enjoying the last rays of sun before it dipped below the horizon. Chris and I had been hanging out all day, tossing a frisbee back and forth with some of his friends, laughing and joking around like we always did. The energy was contagious, and everyone around us seemed to be in the same carefree, easygoing vibe.

I had just finished taking a swig from my water bottle, wiping the sweat from my brow as I stood off to the side to catch my breath. The heat of the day had been intense, but the evening breeze was starting to cool everything down. I was leaning against the tree, watching Chris and his friends make stupid jokes and just goofing off, and honestly, I couldn’t help but smile. There was something about the way he threw himself into everything—whether it was the game or just hanging out—that made it impossible not to feel alive in the moment.

I was about to head over to join them when one of his friends made a comment. It was a harmless joke, but the second it came out of his mouth, he turned to me with a mischievous grin.

“Yo, Chris, how’s it feel to have such a hot girl with you all the time? Bet she's always making you look good, huh?”

Chris laughed in his signature loud, carefree way, but then, without missing a beat, he shot back, not at all embarrassed to let everyone hear him.

“That’s my girl, yeah? Of course she makes me look good.”

The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, made my heart jump in my chest. His tone was playful, but there was an undeniable edge of pride to it. He didn’t even pause to think about it. He didn’t shy away from owning it, letting his friends know that I wasn’t just some girl in the group. I was his.

For a moment, everything around me froze. The world kept turning—the laughter, the noise, the frisbee flying through the air—but all I could hear was the confidence in his voice. I could feel a warmth rush to my face, and I couldn’t help but look at him, meeting his eyes for just a moment. He was grinning at me, that teasing smirk on his lips, but I could tell by the way his eyes softened that he was serious.

The whole exchange had lasted maybe three seconds, but in that short window, I felt a surge of warmth wash over me. Not from embarrassment or pride, but from the reassurance of knowing he was proud to call me his. There was no hesitation in his voice, no second thoughts. Just a simple, confident statement, like he was stating a fact everyone should know. I belonged to him in the most genuine, affectionate way possible.

I chuckled nervously, trying to shake off the unexpected feeling of being exposed, but my heart was still racing. It wasn’t a dramatic, over-the-top moment. It wasn’t some grand gesture or a public declaration of love. It was just him, casually stating it in front of his friends, so easily, without needing to make it a big deal. But it meant everything to me.

I could see that his friends had gone back to their own banter, but I stood there for a moment longer, looking at Chris as if he’d just given me something no one else could ever take away. The breeze lifted the strands of my hair, and I felt, for the first time in a long while, like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Chris walked over, tossing his frisbee back to his friend with one hand, and then, just as he passed by me, his arm casually slid around my shoulders.

“Yeah,” he said softly, his breath brushing against my ear, “that’s my girl.”

The words hung in the air, and I felt them settle deep inside my chest, a quiet claim of ownership that made me feel more seen, more special than I could ever have imagined. I smiled to myself as he pulled me closer, and though the sun was starting to set, I could swear the world had never felt warmer.

Dr. Callahan was quiet for a moment, letting me sit with the memory, but I could feel his gaze on me. His voice broke through the stillness. "It sounds like that was a really powerful moment for you. The confidence Chris showed, the way you felt... secure, loved. It’s understandable why that would stick with you."

I nodded, tapping my fingers against my knee. I could almost still feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, hear the laughter of his friends in the background, but those feelings were starting to blur, slipping into the recesses of my mind like water sinking into the sand.

"Yeah..." I murmured, more to myself than to him. "It was... easy, you know? It was simple. And I guess that's what makes it hurt now. Because it felt so secure. Like, I didn’t have to question it."

The room felt suddenly too quiet. I felt like I was speaking into the stillness, but it wasn’t just the room that was silent. It was the memory—one that had been so vivid a second ago—now starting to fade, like it was being replaced by something else. Something else that felt like it needed to be said, or maybe something that I wanted to remember next.

The shift was subtle at first. A slight tension in my chest, like a thread was being pulled in my brain, unraveling a different memory. One that felt like it belonged to the same day. It was almost like I could feel it coming, the next scene playing in my mind like a movie that had just begun its second act. The shift in the air, the change in the temperature of the room—like I was leaving behind the warmth of the park for something different, something that wasn’t quite as clear.

The time he took my virginity

The room was soft with dim lighting, the kind that made everything feel more intimate, more sacred. The quiet hum of the outside world faded as I lay there, my heart racing in my chest, but I wasn’t afraid. I trusted him more than anything—Chris was my anchor, the one person who made me feel safe, loved, and cherished. And now, as I looked into his eyes, I knew that this moment was something we would share, something precious.

“Are you sure, baby?” His voice was a gentle whisper, full of care, full of concern. He was looking at me like I was something so fragile, and in that moment, I knew he was never going to hurt me. “We’ll take it slow, doll. I’ll guide you, okay? You don’t have to do anything. I’ve got you.”

I nodded, my breath shaky, but I felt his warmth surrounding me, giving me the courage to be vulnerable with him. “I trust you,” I whispered, my voice so quiet, but he heard me, and I could see the tenderness in his eyes.

Chris smiled, that soft, reassuring smile that made me feel like everything was going to be okay. “Good girl,” he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead, then my nose, and finally, pressing his lips gently to mine. His kiss was slow, almost as if he was savoring every moment, every inch of me. It made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.

He pulled away just enough to look at me, his eyes filled with something so sweet and so full of love. “I’m so proud of you, baby. I’m gonna take care of you,” he promised, his voice soft but firm. “Just relax, okay? Let me do all the work.”

I felt a wave of relief wash over me at his words. His soothing tone, the way he was speaking to me like I was the most precious thing in the world, melted away any lingering doubt. He wasn’t rushing, never rushing. Everything about him, from the way his hands brushed against my skin to the way he kissed me, was so slow, so deliberate, making sure I was okay every step of the way.

His hands, warm and steady, began to move over me gently. As he started to ease my jeans down, his fingers grazed my skin, and I let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of his touch all over my body. I tried to steady myself, but the nerves still lingered. I covered my mouth to stifle the noise of discomfort, and I could feel my heart pound faster.

“100%?” He asked, eyes searching yours for an answer. You smiled, nodding as you placed your hand over his. “100%.”

That was all the confirmation he needed, quickly resuming your kiss as his hands worked on removing his jeans and boxers, hastily pulling down your underwear after. He’d had half a mind to pull you to your bedroom, he knew where it was after spending the night in your apartment a many times, but the way you whined against his lips made him hoist you up, hands on the underside of your thighs as you wrapped your legs tight around his hips. 

The wall felt cool against your skin, but all you could bring yourself to focus on was the feeling of his cock sliding against your folds, the slick sound of your arousal coating his skin making you blush. He pushed himself against you, securing you against the bedframe as he moved his hand from the underside of your thigh, guiding his cock into your waiting cunt. The accompanying stretch made you sigh, eyes fluttering as he began slowly rocking his hips, wanting to give you a few moments to grow used to the feeling of him inside of you. 

Chris’s expression faltered for a moment when he saw my hand over my mouth, but he didn’t miss a beat. He pressed a kiss to my temple, his voice low but soothing. “It’s okay, baby. The pain won’t last long, I promise,” he whispered. “Just breathe with me, alright? I’ll make sure you’re okay. I’ll take care of you.”

I nodded into his shoulder, the words comforting me as I tried to relax. My body still felt tense, and I couldn’t hold back the small noises slipping past my lips. I bit down on his shoulder, trying to distract myself from the pain, but I could feel myself biting harder as he slowly went deeper.

Chris noticed immediately, his gaze softening with concern. “Hey, baby,” he whispered, his hand gently lifting my chin from his shoulder. His touch was so tender, so caring, as he guided my face to look at him. “Don’t be shy, okay? Let your noises out. I want to hear you. You don’t need to hold back with me, doll. You’re doing so good.”

His voice was full of warmth, and the gentle praise in his words made me feel a sense of comfort, of reassurance. He kissed me again, this time, softer than before, like he was savoring the moment, reassuring me that everything was okay.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “You’re amazing. I know this is hard, but I’m so proud of you. Let go, okay? I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands were so gentle as they massaged my lower abdomen, and I felt my body slowly starting to relax into his touch. His kisses, soft and sweet, trailed down my neck, his breath warm against my skin. Every little noise that escaped my lips only made him praise me more, each word full of love and tenderness.

“See, baby? It’s so beautiful when you let go,” he murmured, his lips brushing over my collarbone, where I loved to feel his touch. “I want to hear every little sound you make. Don’t be embarrassed, okay? You’re perfect”

“This alright?” He asked, voice strained as his hands clutched your thigh and hip. You could only nod in response, hands flush against his back as he thrusted up into you. He felt like heaven, his body so close to yours that each roll of his hips caused your clit to brush against his lower stomach, providing much-needed friction along with the feeling of his cock rutting inside of you. 

You could hear his breath catch in his throat whenever you’d clench around him, fingertips grasping your flesh with enough ferocity that you were sure you’d have bruises along your skin the day after. He trailed his lips along your throat, sucking love bites into the soft skin as he fucked himself into you, smiling against your throat whenever he’d draw a moan from you. 

He pressed against me again, his movements slow, ensuring that I felt every inch of his care. His lips traced over my skin, leaving soft, feather-light kisses, and with each movement, he made sure to check in with me. “I’m right here, baby. We’re taking this slow. You’re amazing. Just relax, and let me love you.”

As he eased a little deeper, I felt the pressure of him there, and despite the discomfort, the warmth of his touch made everything feel safer. He noticed the way I bit down on his shoulder again and, gently, pulled my jaw from him.

He pulled me closer, his hand gently cupping my face and brushing away a stray tear. He wiped the sweat from my brow, pushing stray strands of hair from my face with such tenderness, his touch like a balm.

“Where does it hurt, baby?” Chris asked, his voice full of concern and love. He rubbed my lower abdomen gently, his touch slow and comforting. “Tell me where it hurts, doll. I’ll make it better, I promise.”

The pain in my stomach was dull but persistent, and his gentle touch only made me feel safer. “It’s here,” I whispered, still pressing my mouth into his shoulder, trying to keep the noise in.

Chris’s hand continued to rub my lower abdomen softly, his touch slow and comforting. “I’ve got you, baby. Just breathe with me, okay?” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re doing so good, doll. You’re my girl, and I’m so lucky to be with you.”

“Baby, don’t be shy. Let it out, okay? You don’t need to hold back,” he said softly, his voice reassuring. He placed my hand over my lower abdomen and pressed it gently down, guiding me to feel just how far we’d come. “You took almost all of it” he whispered, his voice full of tenderness. “We’ll take it slow. I promise you, the pain will stop soon. Just one more time, and we’ll be through it, alright? You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you.”

His words were like a balm to my nerves, his gentle praise soothing my every fear. The way he held me, his every touch full of love, made everything feel so much better. I felt my body start to relax again, his soft words and careful touch giving me the courage to let go and trust him completely.

“Just a little longer, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine.

Every time I let out a small noise, whether it was a shaky breath or a soft wince, his dick would twitch. “You sound so pretty.” He whispered, words followed by a soft grunt as his pace picked up a notch, your movements against the wall causing a series of barely audible thuds to echo throughout your living room. “You feel so good.”

His words came out hushed, always interrupted by a whine or a moan that he tried to hide in the crook of your neck. Every noise you heard from him went straight to your cunt, causing you to squeeze around him as you felt your orgasm budding in your lower stomach. Your thighs tightened around his hips, heels subtly digging into his skin as you rolled your hips to meet his movements. 

he murmured, kissing me softly.

He continued to move, slow and steady, his hands never leaving my body as he guided me through it. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispered again, his voice filled with pride. “So good"

His kisses continued, soft and comforting, and with every reassuring word, every gentle touch.

I smiled into the kiss, a small, shaky thing, but it was real. It felt so good to be loved like this, to be held with so much care, so much tenderness. I couldn’t speak yet, the emotions and the sensations overwhelming me, but I repeated his name, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Chris...”

“I know, I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice so soft, so soothing. He kissed my forehead, his hands still moving over me, tender and patient. He was giving me space to feel everything, to adjust to him at my own pace.

His touch was everywhere, a steady presence on my body that made me feel cherished, loved, and safe. As his hand moved to gently massage my lower abdomen, I felt my body responding, but in a way I couldn’t express with words. I reached down, guiding his hand to where I needed him most, the place where I would feel good, where my body craved his touch.

Chris’s eyes softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t need words to understand what I was asking for. “You’re perfect, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with pride. “I love that you know what you need. I’m here with you, okay? I’m right here.”

I whispered his name again, this time with a soft, breathless smile on my lips, “Chris…” I make a weak attempt to continue my previous sentence.

“Oh, fuck-“ He whispered, eyebrows furrowing together as your hips moved with his, allowing him to fuck himself deeper into you. He placed open-mouthed kisses along your throat, each kiss intercepted by a whine or whimper of your name. Your fingers dug into the muscles lining his back, head rolling back to rest against the wall. 

“I’m gonna cum-“ You murmured, words near slurred as your cunt spasmed around his cock. A strangled moan fell from his lips at the feeling of you coming undone around him, his pace faltering for mere seconds as he tried his best to keep himself upright, legs practically shaking from the feeling of your cunt wrapped so tightly around him. 

He fucked you through your orgasm, whispering words of praise as he chased his own. You threaded your fingers through his hair, subtly grasping onto the strands as he rutted into you. He seemed to like the feeling, face contorting into one of pure pleasure as he came inside of you. His hips stuttered with each wave of his orgasm, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he grunted through the feeling. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you, filling you full of his cum. 

You kissed his cheek and jaw, catching your breath all the while. You couldn’t help but smile against his damp skin, loving the way he still held you in his arms even through his orgasm. A soft laugh bubbled past your lips as you tilted your head back to look up at him. 

In the end, I was breathless, my body aching in the most beautiful way. As he held me close, his hands gently tracing over my skin, I felt completely at ease, completely safe.

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice shaky but sincere, my heart full of him.

Chris kissed me softly, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I love you, baby. So much,” he whispered, his voice warm and comforting, like a blanket I could wrap myself in forever.

And in that moment, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be. Safe in his arms, loved and cherished beyond measure, and I could feel my heart swell with love for him in return.

The night he promised forever

It was a night that felt like it belonged in a movie. Everything was perfect—the soft lighting from the street lamps, the cool breeze in the air, and the way I felt as I walked into the room, completely transformed. I’d spent hours getting ready, making sure my outfit was just right. The soft fabric of my dress hugged my curves perfectly, and my hair, usually more casual, was styled into gentle waves that made me feel a little more glamorous than usual.

And then there was Chris. The look on his face when he saw me for the first time that night—it was pure awe. His eyes widened, mouth falling open as he looked at me, barely able to speak. "Baby," he breathed, "you... you look unbelievable."

I smiled softly, trying to act calm, but inside I was a mess of butterflies. "Thanks, Chris," I said, giving a little twirl to show off the dress.

Chris didn’t even try to hide how his gaze followed me, his lips curling into a grin that was almost too proud to be real. He chuckled, shaking his head, trying to play it off. "God, you’re so beautiful. I’m actually losing it right now." He stepped closer to me, placing his hands on my waist. "I don’t think I can even look at you anymore tonight or I might just—" He stopped, shaking his head again with a mischievous grin. "Never mind."

I laughed, rolling my eyes playfully, and then we were off. The date had all the right vibes—casual and sweet, with just enough energy to keep everything exciting. After a cozy dinner, we ended up at the ice cream shop, Chris already making jokes about how he was going to spoil me with whatever flavor I wanted. I picked vanilla, my favorite, and Chris got his usual mint chocolate chip.

Sitting on the bench outside, enjoying our ice cream, Chris couldn’t help but tease me every chance he got. His eyes were practically locked on my lips, and I could tell his mind was racing. When I got a little ice cream on the tip of my nose, his face lit up. Without even thinking, he leaned over, his lips gently brushing my nose to kiss the ice cream away.

He pulled back with a smirk, looking at me like I was the most precious thing in the world. "Mmm, vanilla, huh?" he said, voice dropping lower. "Reminds me of what I want to taste from you tonight."

My heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, I pushed his face away teasingly, trying to hide the flush creeping up my neck. "Chris! Stop," I giggled, pushing him back playfully, but I couldn’t ignore the shiver that ran down my spine from his words.

Chris, unfazed, just laughed softly and leaned in to kiss me again, this time on my cheek. "I’m just sayin’, doll, you look too good tonight. It’s driving me crazy."

I smiled, but I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, especially with how his eyes were scanning me like he was trying to memorize every inch of me. Chris was always so sweet and gentle, but there was a side of him that was so much more intense when he wanted something. He kissed my cheek softly, then my jaw, and whispered in my ear, "Can’t wait for tonight, baby. I can already picture it. You in my bed with your thighs squeezing my face... God, that thought is driving me wild."

I gasped, pushing him away again, laughing but feeling my heart race. "Chris, you’re impossible!" But there was no hiding the fact that I loved his words, even if they made me feel nervous.

"Come on, don’t be shy, baby," he said softly, his hands reaching for mine, gently intertwining his fingers with mine. "You know I’m always gentle with you. I just love teasing you... You make me want you so bad." His voice was soft and warm, but there was a sincerity in it that made my stomach flutter.

I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling all the tension melt away. His hand gently brushed through my hair, and in that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Just him, me, and the promise of a night where everything between us felt just right. He was sweet, tender, and always knew just how to make me feel special—even when he was making dirty jokes or teasing me endlessly.

"I just wanna take care of you, baby," he whispered, pulling me close as we continued to laugh and smile. "You’re perfect in every way. Don’t forget that."

I looked up at him, feeling my heart full of affection. "I won’t, Chris. I promise." And that promise was sealed with another soft kiss from him, one that made me forget everything else in the world but him.

Forever without me

The room spins as you stumble into the apartment, your arm draped over Chris’s shoulder for balance. Your feet barely manage to keep up with his steady steps as he guides you inside, his hand resting protectively on your waist.

“C’mon, baby, let’s get you some water,” Chris murmurs, his voice soft and soothing. “You’re gonna feel like crap if you don’t.”

You giggle, your words slurred as you sway against him. “I don’t need water. I need... I don’t know what I need.”

Chris chuckles, shaking his head as he helps you toward the couch. “Well, I know what you need, doll, and it’s water. Trust me.”

He sets you down gently, brushing the hair out of your face as you blink up at him with a hazy smile. “You’re so... pretty, Chris,” you mumble, your hand reaching up to trace his jawline. “How’d I get so lucky?”

His lips curve into a soft smile, and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “I’m the lucky one, baby. Now sit tight, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You watch him disappear into the kitchen, your head lolling against the couch as your eyelids grow heavy. When he returns with a glass of water, he kneels in front of you, holding it out.

“Drink,” he coaxes, his tone gentle but firm. “Just a few sips, m’kay?”

You pout, pushing the glass away weakly. “I don’t want it. I can do this myself.”

Chris raises an eyebrow, his patience unwavering. “Doll, you can barely sit up. Just humor me, alright?”

You groan but take a sip, your movements clumsy. He watches you carefully, his hand resting on your knee to steady you. When you’re done, he sets the glass aside and stands, offering you his hand.

“Let’s get you changed and into bed,” he says, tugging you up gently.

You sway on your feet, your head falling against his chest as he wraps an arm around you to keep you upright. “I don’t need help,” you mumble, your tone stubborn. “I can do it myself.”

Chris lets out a soft sigh, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I know you can, baby, but let me take care of you tonight, okay?”

You huff but let him lead you to the bedroom. He sets you on the edge of the bed and crouches down, his hands carefully unlacing your shoes. His movements are so tender, so patient, it makes your chest ache.

“I can do this,” you mutter again, trying to push his hands away as he reaches for the hem of your top.

Chris’s jaw tightens, but his voice remains calm. “I know you can, but you’re drunk, and I’m just trying to help.”

You swat at his hands as he gently pulls your shirt over your head. “I’m not a kid, Chris. I don’t need you to baby me.”

He freezes for a moment, his hands stilling as his eyes flicker to yours. “I’m not babying you,” he says softly. “I’m taking care of you.”

But your words keep spilling out, unfiltered by your inebriated state. “You always do this,” you mumble, your tone accusatory. “You treat me like I can’t do anything on my own.”

Chris’s shoulders tense, and he exhales slowly, clearly trying to keep his composure. “That’s not what I’m doing, doll,” he says, his voice steady but with an edge of weariness. “You’re drunk, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You shake your head, your words growing more jumbled. “You just... you’re always... I don’t need this. I don’t need you.”

The hurt that flashes across his face is fleeting, but it’s there. He presses his lips into a thin line, his hands dropping to his sides. “Alright,” he says quietly, standing up. “If that’s how you feel.”

He takes a step back, his blue eyes searching yours as if he’s waiting for you to take it back, to say something—anything—that would undo the sting of your words. But when you don’t, he nods to himself and steps toward the door.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything,” he says, his voice tight, and with that, he leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

-

The pounding in your head is relentless, but it’s nothing compared to the aching void in your chest. You stir on the couch, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the window, and find Chris sitting beside you. He’s leaning back, his arm draped over the couch’s edge, his face unreadable.

You shift closer to him, resting your head against his stomach, desperate for some kind of connection. His body tenses under you, but he doesn’t say a word. You tilt your face up, planting soft kisses along the fabric of his hoodie, trailing them lower, hoping to draw out some kind of reaction.

“Chris,” you whisper, your voice small and pleading. When he doesn’t respond, you kiss him again, this time with more intention. “Please, talk to me.”

He exhales sharply, his hand coming to rest on your head for a brief moment before pulling away. “Baby, not now,” he says softly, but there’s an edge to his voice.

You ignore his words, your emotions high and desperate. Your fingers graze his jaw as you press another kiss to his stomach. “Why not?” you murmur, your lips trembling. “Don’t you want me?”

He lets out a shaky breath, his patience visibly fraying. “I said not now,” he repeats, still trying to keep his tone even. “You’re not in the right headspace.”

The sting of rejection hits hard, and your chest tightens with a mix of shame and hurt. “Chris,” you plead again, sitting up now, your hands reaching for his face. “Why won’t you touch me? Why don’t you want me anymore?”

His jaw clenches, and he finally looks at you, his blue eyes filled with frustration. “Don’t do this,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “I’m trying to take care of you, and you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

Your heart breaks at the coldness in his tone, and before you can stop yourself, you move to straddle his lap, your fingers fumbling with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “I need you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

Chris grabs your wrists gently but firmly, pulling them away. “Stop,” he says, his voice rising slightly. “Baby, stop this.”

But you don’t stop. You lean in, pressing your lips to his, your desperation palpable. “Why not? What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you want me?”

That’s when he snaps. Chris pushes you back slightly, his voice exploding with emotion. “Why not? Are you serious right now?” He stands up abruptly, running his hands through his hair as he paces the room.

You sit there, stunned by the intensity of his reaction. “Chris, I didn’t mean—”

“No,” he cuts you off, turning to face you, his frustration boiling over. “Do you even remember last night? Do you have any idea what you said to me?”

Your breath hitches, your mind scrambling for answers. “No, I don’t remember,” you whisper. “I just remember you helping me.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, his hands on his hips as he shakes his head. “Yeah, I helped you. I always help you. But you don’t remember telling me that I’m controlling? That I treat you like a child? That you feel smothered by me?”

Your heart sinks, and tears spring to your eyes. “Chris, I didn’t mean it. I was drunk.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he spits, his voice sharp. “You can’t just say stuff like that and expect it to disappear because you don’t remember.”

Tears stream down your face as you stand, trying to close the distance between you. “I don’t feel that way, Chris. I swear. I love you.”

Chris’s laughter is harsh, almost cruel. “You love me?” he echoes. “Then why are you acting like this? Why are you so desperate for me to touch you now when last night you couldn’t stand the way I take care of you?”

“I’m sorry,” you cry, clutching his arm. “I just wanted you. I needed you.”

He shakes his head, his voice rising again. “You needed me? You always need me, don’t you? You act like this—like a child—whenever things get tough. You love being babied in bed, and I’m always soft with you because you’re so damn sensitive.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, he pauses, his face softening slightly as guilt flickers in his eyes. He hesitates, his mouth opening as if he’s about to backtrack. But then his jaw sets, and he doubles down.

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he continues, his voice harder now. “You’re so sensitive and overdramatic that I have to walk on eggshells around you all the time. I have to take my time with you, but now you’re acting like this—like you can’t wait another second. Why?”

Your sobs grow louder as his words cut deeper, and you shake your head, trying to reach for him. “Chris, please don’t do this. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean any of it.”

But he doesn’t stop. His frustration has taken over completely, and he’s unable to hold back. “Why are you so needy and quick for me now?” he snaps, his voice breaking. “You make me feel like I can’t win no matter what I do. I’m either not enough, or I’m too much.”

Your knees buckle, and you collapse back onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. “Chris, please,” you beg, your voice barely audible.

He softens slightly, the anger in his expression replaced by sadness. “I love you,” he says, his voice cracking. “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep feeling like I’m never enough for you.”

Before you can respond, he grabs his keys from the table and heads for the door. “I hope you figure out what you really want,” he says quietly before walking out, leaving you alone with the deafening silence of his absence.

You sniffle, your voice barely above a whisper as the weight of the memory settles between you and Dr. Callahan. "That’s the last time I saw him," you say, staring down at your hands clutching a tissue.

The room feels oppressively quiet, the hum of the air conditioning barely cutting through the silence. Your chest tightens as the words hang in the air, final and raw. "I woke up the next morning, hungover and confused, and he was gone. His hoodie wasn’t on the chair anymore, his keys weren’t on the table. He didn’t even leave a note."

Your breath hitches as your eyes well up again, and you swipe at your face angrily with the tissue. "I don’t even remember all of what I said that night. I just know I was crying, begging him, practically throwing myself at him—and he snapped. He told me I was too much. That I’m always too much."

Your voice cracks, and you let out a shaky exhale. "I mean, he wasn’t wrong, was he? I am too much. I pushed him so hard that he finally broke. And then I just… let him leave. I didn’t even try to stop him."

Dr. Callahan leans forward slightly, her hands folded in her lap. Her voice is soft but grounded. "It sounds like that moment is still very raw for you. But it also sounds like there’s a lot of blame you’re placing on yourself. Have you thought about why you let him leave without stopping him?"

You blink hard, the tears blurring your vision. "Because… I thought he’d come back," you admit, the confession trembling on your lips. "He always came back before. No matter how bad the fights got, no matter what I said or did—Chris always came back."

Your voice drops to a whisper. "But this time, he didn’t."

You press the tissue to your nose, trying to breathe through the lump in your throat. "I don’t know why I even thought he would. He looked at me like I was a stranger that night. Like he didn’t even know me anymore. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe I pushed him so far that he stopped loving me, and I just didn’t want to see it."

Dr. Callahan watches you for a moment, her expression calm but empathetic. "What you’re describing—losing someone you cared so deeply for—is incredibly painful. But it’s also important to understand that relationships don’t break down because of one person. It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself."

You shake your head, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. "But I did this," you choke out. "I was the one who couldn’t stop. I was the one who made him feel like he wasn’t enough. And now he’s gone, and I can’t even tell him I’m sorry. I can’t take back any of it."

Your chest feels hollow as you lean back into the couch, the tears still falling freely. Deep down, you wonder if the ache will ever stop. If the image of him walking out the door that night will ever fade. If you’ll ever feel whole again without him.

To be continued??

A/N: This fic has been a labor of love and has definitely been time-consuming to write! Mostly due to the fact that I never slept in 2 days. A huge shoutout to the amazing anon who requested a story about a breakup with a personal spin on it—hopefully, this is exactly what you were hoping for! If you’ve made it this far, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your support means the world to me. If you liked the story, or even if you have thoughts or feedback, any sort of interaction is always beyond appreciated. Thank you again for reading ���

tags - : @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44 @mommymomm @chriss-slutt @humpster35

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[jaredpadonlyyyy]

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• 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏𝙏𝙔, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏

• 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝘿𝙉𝙄 𝙄 𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝘾𝙆 𝙔𝙊𝙐

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙐𝙉𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙏𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙎𝙀𝙓 (𝘞𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴) 𝘿𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙔 𝙏𝘼𝙇𝙆, 𝙁𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝘾𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙈𝙋𝙄𝙀, 𝘾𝙃𝙊𝘾𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝙈𝘼𝙇𝙀 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝘽𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉, 𝘿𝙊𝙂𝙂𝙔 𝙎𝙏𝙔𝙇𝙀, 𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙐𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉, 𝙎𝙌𝙐𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂.

You walked up the stairs to your boyfriend’s room as his father had let you in. You and Rafe have been together since before he graduated high school and you were a junior. Now you were a senior and he had come back from school with no plans but drugs in his future. You opened the door to his room to find him in the middle of about to sniff a line off his desk. Your jaw clenched as he looked at you. “What are you doing here?” He asked you as he stood up from his chair leaving the cocaine behind. “How could you?” You asked him as he walked over to you. “How could I what?” He asked as he narrowed his eyes at yours. You’re not gonna lie and say you didn’t do drugs as well, but you knew when it was the good time to do it and when not to do it. “Did you forget something?” You asked the Cameron man. He looked at you as he tried to think what he was forgetting and then his expression fell. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry I forgot.” He said. “Yeah, clearly.” You said as you look behind him.

“Rafe, baby, what’s going on?” You asked him as you walked closer to him. He shook his head as he looked away. You could see the turmoil that was going through his head. Something happened and it was fucking with his head. You walked over to him and placed both of your hands on both sides of his face, making him look up at you. “Babe, what’s going on?” You asked him softly as his blue eyes watered as he looked into your own eyes. “You don’t love me anymore?” He asked you and you frowned as you look at him. “What? Where is this coming from?” You asked him as a tear fell down his ocean blue eyes.

He just shrugged as he took your hands away from his face as he turned around. “Rafe, what’s going on?” You asked him as you started to worry about him. “I-I’m not good enough for you.” He said softly. You looked at your boyfriend confused as to why was he thinking the way he is. So, she walked over to him putting both of her hands on his head to making him look at her. “I love you, Rafe, you, the imperfect, I never want you to change for me, baby, I love you, the way you are.” She softly said as his watery cobalt eyes looked into yours. “I love you, Rafe don’t ever forget that.” She leaned down and kissed him softly on his lips. The Cameron boy sighs as he didn’t even hesitate to kiss her back, hugging her from her waist.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered against her stomach as she runs her fingers through his hair. “It’s okay, baby, I got you.” You whispered, glaring at the wall knowing who must’ve been the one to put things into his head in the first place. Ward always hated her and her family. They never got alone and he hated that his son was dating his enemies daughter and she actually did love him. He always try’s to mess with Rafe’s head, telling her that he’s worthless and that he’s not good enough to have such a rich girlfriend.

Her parents loved Ward’s children, but they hated him and they hated Rose. Rafe pulled you on to his lap as the kiss started to get heated, passionate but heated. And you wanted to take his mind off him trying to prove to his father he’s worthy. So you reached to the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head tossing it to the side and he did the same thing with you, except you were wearing a dress, leaving you in only a pink thong. His mouth immediately attracted onto your nipples making you moan as you threw your head back, grinding your hips to get some kind of friction, moaning as you felt him get hard.

Rafe made you lean back as he let his eyes wonder your body, his hands running down your body as your eyes closed enjoying the feeling of him praising your body. “So beautiful, so perfect.” He whispered as he got to your pink thong, moving it to the side as his finger grazed your folds, before he entered his pointer finger inside your pussy making you gasp as he looked at you. You didn’t care about Rafe used your body, as long as his mind wasn’t anywhere else.

Rafe entered his middle finger inside of you and he started to pump them in and out of you, with his other hand he unzipped his pants, pulling them down with his boxer shorts making his dick spring up as he started to pump himself as he kept on fingering your pussy. “Fuck, Rafe.” You moaned as you grips your sheets hard, as your legs lifted up shaking as you felt your orgasm come quicker than you expected, the way he was just jerking off by watching you, was a major turn on for you, you were loving every moment of it. With the curl of his fingers you gasped as he grazed your sweet spot making you let out a loudly scream as your walls fluttered, your orgasm getting on his fingers. “Rafe! Rafe! Fuck!” Your body shook.

Letting go of his dick, Rafe kept on fingering you as his other hand played with your clit, making you stop breathing as it was becoming way too much for you to handle. Your toes curled as your body violently spasms as you felt your second orgasm approach.

“You like that? Huh?” He asked, but you couldn’t answer him. So he slapped your pussy and that’s what threw your over the edge, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as you held onto his wrist rolling your hips as you finally let yourself breathe as you moaned over and over and over again, and he still kept on going. “R-Rafe! I-I can’t.” You said gasping for air as your body jerked around but his arm kept you in place. “One last time, baby.” He said.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, ooh fuuu—.” You gasped so loud as Rafe took out his fingers playing with your clit as you squirted, your vision going dark for a moment as you soaked your bed. Slumping on your bed opening your eyes. You looked up at the ceiling breathing hard as your body still kind of twitched from the feeling.

“Damn, that was seriously hot.” Rafe said making you look over at him. “That was amazing.” You giggled at him. “Yeah?” He said smiling and you nodded as you smiled back at him. “Get on all fours.” He told you and you didn’t hesitate to listen to the Cameron man.

Once you were on all fours. He pushed your head down on the bed, getting in between your legs as he slaps your ass a few times, getting a handful of it as well. With that he lines himself up at your entrance and slowly enters, getting a moan out of both of you.

Once he bottomed out he began to slowly thrust as your moans started softly along with his grunts. “Fuck, so good.” He whispered as he gripped your sides, the head of his dick hitting your spot over and over again, making you see stars. Rafe just watched as his cock disappears inside of you, his hand went over pulling you up from your hair as he started to pick up his pace. “I’m gonna fill you up.” He said into your ear as your head leans back against his shoulder

The only thing being heard inside the room was the moans of the couple, the way the skin clapped as Rafe fucked her hard. How his hand had reached for her throat chocking her, but not to the point of her passing out. She was loving every second of what was going on. The way his thrusting was becoming more intense, he was most likely taking his anger out on fucking you, but you didn’t mind one bit of it at all.

If anything you were encouraging him to be harsher and he didn’t hesitate as his nails dig into the soft skin of your hips. The way he was gripping them as he just slammed into your walls. With that Rafe pulls you up again as you orgasmed all over his dick. His hand around your neck as he lets out one final grunt his cock twitching as he filled you up with his cum.

After you were both done, both of you ended up in the shower, you on your knees as you bobbed your head, making him groan, moan, grunt and that’s how you both spent your night. Fucking and caressing each other’s bodies until the next morning came.

ENJOY! 😏🫶🏻

[etheraltides]

Fractured Devotion

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe’s addiction and mounting debts push him to the edge after a threatening encounter with Barry. As the boy you love clings to you for comfort, you must decide how far you’re willing to go to save him.

Warning(s): drug use and addiction, volatile behavior (I mean it’s season one rafe), violence.

You sat on the edge of Rafe’s bed, flipping absently through a magazine you found on his nightstand. It was some glossy publication, all luxury homes and island life aesthetics. You weren’t paying attention to the words. Instead, you listened to the faint echoes of muffled voices downstairs.

Rafe was arguing with his dad again.

It had been a year since you’d started dating him, but it felt like you’d spent half of that time comforting him after some blow-up with Ward. Lately, though, it was getting worse. The fights were louder, angrier, and left Rafe spiraling into moods you struggled to pull him out of.

You adjusted the strap of your sundress, feeling a prickle of unease. You’d noticed how his behavior had changed over the past few weeks – more erratic, more aggressive. He was drinking more, using more. And when you tried to talk to him about it, he brushed it off with a smirk and a dismissive wave of his hand.

“He’s just so…ungrateful, you know?” Rafe’s voice carried through the door as he stormed into the room, slamming it behind him. His chest rose and fell with barely-contained rage, his blue eyes sharp and angry.

You looked up, setting the magazine aside. “Rafe, what happened?”

He raked a hand through his messy blonde hair, pacing the room like a caged animal. “Sarah,” he spat, as if her name tasted bitter. “That little traitor.”

Your brows knitted in concern. “What did she do?”

“She’s siding with them. With John B and those Pogue losers. She’s supposed to be my sister, our family, but she’s out there, screwing around with him instead of standing by us.” He stopped pacing and turned to you, his expression hardening. “Do you even know what that’s like? To have your own blood turn on you?”

You didn’t know how to answer, so you stood and reached for his hand. “Rafe, calm down. She’s just a kid. Maybe she doesn’t—”

“Don’t defend her!” he snapped, pulling away from your touch. “She’s tearing this family apart, and Dad just lets her do it. Like she’s perfect and I’m…”

His voice trailed off, but the look in his eyes – the self-loathing barely hidden under the anger – made your chest ache.

“You’re not a failure, Rafe.” you said softly, stepping closer. “You’re just—”

“What?” He laughed, sharp and bitter. “Go ahead, say it. I’m just what, (Y/N)? A mess? A junkie? A disappointment?”

“No.” you insisted, but he was already spiraling.

Rafe’s hand shot out, knocking a lamp off the bedside table. It crashed to the floor, the bulb shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. You flinched, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I do everything for him,” Rafe said, his voice rising. “I do everything he asks – everything he needs – and it’s never enough. Sarah can screw off to Pogueland but all Dad sees is me. The screw-up. The kid who can’t get it right.”

“Rafe…” Your voice trembled as you watched him punch the wall, his knuckles splitting against the drywall. You’d never seen him this unhinged before.

“I’m the one holding everything together!” he shouted, ignoring the blood dripping from his hand. “I’m the one doing the dirty work, making sure this family doesn’t fall apart. And for what? So I can listen to his voice in my head, telling me I’m worthless?”

He collapsed onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. “Sometimes I think he’s right. Maybe I am just…broken.”

Your heart broke at the sight of him. You wanted to reach out, to pull him into your arms and tell him everything would be okay. But you weren’t sure if he’d let you, or if he’d push you away like he always did when he felt too vulnerable.

“You’re not broken, Rafe.” you said, sitting beside him. “You’re just hurting. And I want to help you, but you have to let me in.”

For a moment, he looked at you like he wanted to believe you. But then the mask of cocky indifference slid back into place. He stood, grabbing his jacket.

“Where are you going?” you asked, panic rising in your chest.

“Out.” he said curtly. “Don’t wait up.”

The door slammed open with a loud crash, startling you out of your thoughts. Rafe stumbled in, his silhouette outlined by the dim hallway light. He was a mess. His shirt clung to his damp skin, his hair was disheveled, and his pupils were blown wide, a wild, unhinged energy radiating off him.

“Rafe?” you called hesitantly, standing from the bed. The moment your voice broke the silence, his gaze snapped to you, sharp and glassy.

“What are you still doing here?” he muttered, slurring his words slightly. “I thought you’d leave. Everyone leaves.”

“I wasn’t going to leave” you said softly, keeping your tone steady despite the unease creeping up your spine. “What happened? Where were you?”

He ignored your question, pacing the room erratically, his hands tugging at his hair. “Barry.”he spat, the name dripping with venom. “That piece of shit thinks he can threaten me. Me!”

The name sent a chill down your spine. You’d heard the rumors about Barry, but Rafe had always brushed off your questions, assuring you it wasn’t serious. Now, though, the weight of his words pressed heavily on your chest.

“Rafe, what do you mean he threatened you?” you asked, stepping closer. “What’s going on?”

He stopped pacing and turned to you, his expression wild. “What’s going on?” he repeated mockingly. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. I owe Barry money – a lot of money – and now he’s acting like I’m his bitch or something. Like I’m just some loser who can’t handle my business.”

Your stomach dropped. “How much money, Rafe?”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“How much?” you pressed, your voice trembling.

“Does it matter?” he snapped, his anger flaring. “I’ll take care of it. I don’t need you or anyone else to swoop in and save me, alright?”

You took a step back, shocked by the venom in his tone. But then you saw it – the fear buried beneath his anger, the shame flickering in his eyes. He wasn’t just angry. He was scared.

“Rafe.” you said carefully, “how much do you owe him?”

He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Ten grand, alright?” he finally muttered, his voice barely audible.

You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you. Ten thousand dollars. That wasn’t just a debt – it was a noose tightening around his neck.

“Rafe…” you began, but he cut you off, his voice rising again.

“I’ll figure it out, okay? I always do. Barry doesn’t scare me. He’s just a lowlife who thinks he’s bigger than he is.”

“Raphael, stop.” You stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. He tensed under your touch, but you didn’t let go. “Let me help you.”

“What?” he barked, his laugh bitter and sharp. “You want to help me? With what, Y/N? You gonna go have a chat with Barry? Maybe flash your pretty tits and make him forget I owe him ten grand?”

“Don’t!” you said firmly, refusing to back down. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m trying to help you, Rafe.”

“Help me?” he repeated, pulling away from you. “You don’t get it. This isn’t something you can just fix with your stupid optimism and your little good-girl act.”

“I can pay it.” you said suddenly, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

Rafe froze, his wild eyes locking onto yours. “What did you just say?”

“I’ll pay him.” you said again, your voice steadier this time. “I have savings. I’ll pay Barry, and you can pay me back when you’re ready.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of Rafe’s ragged breathing. Then he exploded.

“Are you insane?” he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. “You think I’m going to let you do that? Let you clean up my mess like I’m some kind of charity case?”

“I’m not doing it to embarrass you, Rafe,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm. “I’m doing it because I care about you. Because I don’t want Barry coming after you – or worse.”

“Worse?” he repeated, his voice dropping dangerously low. “What do you think he’s gonna do, huh? You think he’s gonna kill me? Barry’s all talk. He’s nothing.”

“Then why are you so scared?” you shot back, your frustration bubbling over. “Why are you pacing and yelling and breaking things if it’s not a big deal?”

He stared at you, his chest heaving, his face twisted with anger and something else –something raw and vulnerable. “Because I can’t lose you.” he finally said, his voice breaking. “Because if you get involved in this, Barry’s not just coming after me. He’s coming after you, too.”

You took a shaky breath, your heart aching at the pain in his voice. “He won’t come after me because I’ll pay him, silly”

For a long moment, he just stood there, his shoulders slumped, his hands trembling. Then, slowly, he sank to the floor, his back against the wall. His head fell into his hands, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper.

“I’m gonna fix this, okay?” he ran a hand through his hair, his words muffled.

You knelt beside him, your hand gently brushing his. “Then let me help you.” you said softly. “Not just with the money – with all of it. But you have to let me in, Rafe. You have to trust me. I’m not your enemy here.”

He looked at you, his blue eyes glassy with unshed tears, his lips trembling as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t. Instead, he reached out and pulled you toward him, his hands gripping your waist tightly, almost desperately.

His lips crashed against yours in a bruising, frantic kiss. It wasn’t soft or sweet – it was raw, messy, and full of need. His fingers dug into your sides as his mouth moved against yours, the kiss a mix of desperation and hunger. He kissed you like you were the only thing anchoring him, like he was drowning and you were his lifeline.

You gasped against his lips, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair. His body pressed against yours, his movements erratic and uncoordinated, but his need for you was undeniable.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths ragged. “Shit. I don’t deserve you.” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

“No, you don’t.” you whispered, your hands gently cupping his face. “But you’ve got me anyway.”

For the first time that night, he let out a shaky laugh – a sound filled with both relief and sadness. He kissed you again, softer this time but no less intense, as if trying to convince himself that you were real.

[lsargeantsgirl]

Reserve

pairing: max verstappen x f2 driver reader

word count: 1.3k

Summary: Max meets a woman at the 2023 FIA Prize Giving ceremony, but don't exchange numbers. Months later they meet again and sparks fly more than ever.

Warning: Max’s personality is not accurate.

MANY INACCURACIES (take place in Baku, but the place is the Met) also didn't know what to title this

----

2023 FIA Prize Giving ceremony

Y/n ascends the staircase with the wind in her dress and her hair blowing in the wind. She felt better than she ever had. Even though her boyfriend, well now ex-boyfriend, broke up with her a week ago. He had said some things that had made her feel worthless. Now she felt on top of the world. She had won the Formula 2 Rookie of the Year. It had been a crazy tear for you. 

“Y/N,” was all you were surrounded by. Many reporters and fans were yelling for your attention. At the top of the stairs, you stopped and looked over your shoulder as a pose. A man near the middle of the stairs caught your eye. He was sharply dressed in a nice suit.

After enough time to get the shot, you continued through the doors. Your team principal met you halfway to the team’s table. 

“Y/N, you look great. I got an email today from the Team Principal of the Red Bull F1 team, Christian Horner. He wants to talk to you.”

“When does he want to meet?”

“He wants you to meet him after the awards.”

“Ok, you’ll know where I’ll be”

He walked away as you made your way to the bar, getting your favorite drink. A man finds his place next to you.

“Hey, how are you?” he said with an accent.

“Good, you?”

“Great, now since I met such a beautiful woman,” he flirted.

“Aww, what level are you in?”

“F1.”

“Ooh, fancy pants here,” you said while smiling. “Guess I’m too poor for you.”

“But you’re not ‘poor’ on the beauty scale.” He smiles, and you meet his crystal-blue eyes.

“Thanks, if looks could lap, you’d be a world champion,” you joke to him, hitting his arm with a dopey smile.

“Jokes on you, actually, I am,”  he says with all seriousness. 

The smile on your face dropped. “What?!”

“The champion of your heart,” he smiles detecting your stand-offness to his previous comment. “So can I have your number?”

“If you buy the next round.”

“Bartender, can you put all of her drinks on my tab tonight,” he says as the bartender nods.

“Well, thank you, but for that, I can repay you by giving you my number,” you said as you trailed your finger on his shoulder.

“What if I don’t want it?” he says ‘sarcastically’ but you don’t catch on.

The face you made you kill someone. Your face dropped farther than it ever had. You might even have to get Botox for the frown lines after that. You set your drink on the bar and back away. 

“Thank you for the drinks, have a great night,” you said before turning on your heel and walking away. 

“Wait,” you hear him slightly yell but you ignore it. Max starts to hate himself for being sarcastic. It was hard for him to make friends or talk to girls. His abusive past makes him overthink things so much so that he blocks the best of people out.

You strut to your team’s table. As the ceremony commences, your eyes meet the Caribbean blue eyes. You fight the urge to smile at him, instead you force your deepest frown and even add a roll of the eye. 

Your award was announced. You walk up the stairs with a huge smile. As you look out at the audience, you feel a sense of accomplishment. You seem calm and collected but inside you are so nervous.

“Thank you to everyone, my team, my engineers, my strategists, my family, my friends. All that you have done for me has brought me to this very moment. No words can express how thankful I am for everything. All the blood, sweat, and tears I have put into this sport have finally paid off. If I cried on your shoulder, an extra thank you to you. Thank you,” you finished.

The rest of the night went by in a blur until your team principal came to you with three men following him.

“Y/n, this is Christian Horner, team principal of the Red Bull F1 Team.”

“Mr. Horner, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Miss (your last name), likewise, congratulations on your F2 Rookie of the Year.”

“Thank you,” you politely replied.

“I would like you to meet my drivers: World Champion, Max Verstappen and his teammate, Sergio Perez.”

You looked at the man he called Max and looked him up and down and said, “Champion of your heart, my ass.”

“Y/n, a word please,” your team principal grasped the upper portion of your arm. “What the hell, they’re offering their reserve driver to you. Don’t act normal please.”

You walked back to the group of Red Bulls. “My apologies, Mr. Perez, a pleasure to meet you,” you apologized completely ignoring Max. 

“Y/n, after careful consideration, Red Bull would like to offer you the position of our reserve driver. You can take as much time as you need to decide,” Christian said.

“Thank you, sir. I will think about it.” 

Christian and his boys walked away after giving their farewells.

—-- A couple of months later—

Bahrain Grand Prix

“Here we are in Bahrain, preparing for the first race of the 2024 Formula One championship quest, the 2024 Bahrain Grand Prix. It is a sunny day of 20 degrees Celsius or 69 degrees Fahrenheit. There are no new drivers to the starting grid but there are changes to the reserve drivers mainly, the Formula 2 Rookie of the Year, (your name). She had amazing testing results here last week. One of our reporters is with her now.” the Sky Sports host said. 

“Y/N, welcome to your first grand prix as a reserve driver. Are there any feelings of accomplishment yet?” she asked.

You laughed, “Not really, I am so happy to have this opportunity. Thank you to Christian and the Red Bull team for trusting me. It really won’t settle in until I’m in one of the cars during a race but yes I am so happy and excited to be here.”

“As someone new to F1, how is having Max Verstappen as a teammate?”

“I mean, he’s different than my previous mates. We have our downs but nothing that makes me lose sleep, I don't know about him though.”

“Well, thank you for your time, I hope you enjoy this grand prix.”

Sometime later after Max won the race, he found you at the back of the garage and cornered you.

“Do you think I lost sleep over that night in Baku?” he said with a low volume.

“You were the one who came running after me so maybe.”

“You would be right, every day I think about what compelled me to say that and I still don’t know what did?”

“I know what did. You were attracted to me so your first instinct was to pull me in but when I got too close you pushed me away, that’s not your fault.”

“My dad made me work so hard, so when you came in so easily I thought it was too good to be true,” he said.

“I feel the same,” you whisper.

“You do?” he whispered back.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,”

His lips met your softly. You were hidden in the back of the garage so no one could see this intimate moment.

After you separated your lips, he asked, “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, you know where to pick me up,” you say slipping out from between him and the wall to go back to the front of the garage, anxiously waiting for the night to come.

[2-dsimp]

if it’s no trouble could we get another part to DILF/ nanny reader? Maybe like a willing reader? Bc I know of a hot dad wanted to date me who am I to say no? Lol great work!!!!

Cw: fem reader! jealousy, possessive/obsessive tendencies, Quio and Miki butting heads, the plot thickens

Synopsis no.2: 【featuring you being caught in the middle between your coworker and employer literally and figuratively. Miki obviously hates your employer and makes it well known meanwhile Quio does the same vice versa. The Dilf tried his best to put his and Peina’s plan of seducing you into action. But he’s constantly getting interrupted. And He’s honestly so close to snapping at this point.】

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

“I wish you’d stop by here more often after all you’re already part of the family."

The Dilf sighs melodramatically, electing a small giggle from your lips. Seeing how he acted so distraught due to your absence. While he led you and your coworker to the living room, gesturing for you to take a seat on the couch.

“Oh that’s kind of you to say Mr. Evinis but I can’t possibly impose on you guys. Plus I’ve still gotta work my boring office job”

You replied with a mirthful tone at his sweet comment truly feeling as if you’ve made a second home within your employers household. You’ve already grown accustomed to his friendly work staff and of course his darling daughter who was l always clinging onto you like a baby kitten. And the fact that her father was so chivalrous and kind didn’t help your own little crush from forming on the single dad.

“Oh perish the thought sugarling~ we’re lucky enough to even be blessed by your radiant grace. In this boring household.”

Quio reassures with a charming smile, as he makes sure to fluff up some fancy decor pillows for his lovely lady. After placing the plush pillows down where you’d sit, He then put a hand on your shoulder giving a comforting squeeze.

“In fact me and the little squirt have always gotten excited at seeing you pull up and we’d be more than happy to keep you hostage here if possible”

The Dilf admits in a cheesy manner, which made you feel at ease. From how sweet his insistence at you dropping by often to hang out was. Being none the wiser to how he was being 100% serious. About the part where him and his daughter briefly molled over the idea of keeping their lovely nanny hostage at their mansion. Since they honestly couldn’t get enough of how addicting your sunshine liken presence.

Lit up every dark lonesome corner of the estate and they’d be damned if they every let you get a chance to escape from their sights. brandishes a pearly grin at the thought of being able to cater personally to his future missus.

“Also if your boring office job is what’s holding you back from spending quality time with us then I can think of a couple solutions to—“

“Um, let me stop you right there man. Whatever you’re pitching would be nice and all but I need my work wife.”

Once again you missed the small micro transgression within the Dilf’s facial features as his eye twitched at the irksome interruption done by that worthless dickbag.

“Aha work wife? With someone like you? I see you’re the type to joke around huh?”

He replied in an tone of condescension giving Miki a mean spirited smile. And an idle glance over full of scorn at the self assured confidence in this boy, who was proclaiming that his darling was his work wife.

“Well I am quite the jokester—wait what the hell do you mean by someone like me??”

You nearly busted out laughing at how Miki got a miffed expression on his face from the subtle dig done by the famous actor. You didn’t necessarily claim to be Miki’s work wife as nice as his company was. He was an utter shitty coworker to have when you’re trying to get shit done. Whenever you two were paired it’d be him cracking jokes while you were working like an effective machine.

“Well If anything they’re my work wife, no my wife, since yknow she’s looking after my kid like the little darling angel she is”

Quio nearly purred with a sharp edge to his voice as he blatantly rubbed it in Miki’s face the sheer difference. Between the two of them and how he was ultimately more important in your standings.

“Anit that right sweetness?”

The single dad hummed with a sickening sweet expression that resembled a hopeful doe eyed buck. His shouldering eyes never failed to make your heart do kick flips from how they always seemed to focus on purely you. Almost as if you were his world, his missing half. You got extremely flustered that you could barely even respond to his words. Until Miki let out a sneer and fixed his apparent love rival a shrewd scowl.

“Oh please as if! She’s your Nanny, not your substitute wife. Plus I already called dibs on her first, my guy.”

The sight of that damned flea mansplaining on the couch with the slinging over his arm right behind your head. Made Quio imagine ripping that same offending arm from our his socket and bitch slapping him with it.

“Dibs? Are you insinuating that she’s an object to be possessed by the likes of a peasant like you?”

He taunts snarkily, dropping his nice guy facade as makes his way to sit right in between you and Miki. Squeezing his bulky frame in the middle of the couch he gracefully crosses his legs as he swats off the offending arm behind your head and replaces it with his own.

“Tch! Now you know that’s not what I meant. It’s always you actors spinning fabricated lies. And the fuck did you just—“

“Miki don’t you think that it’s time for you to go soon? You’re gonna be late for work”

You interjected seeing how things were getting out of hand between the two offending men. Quio merely gave a smug smile as he saw Miki begrudgingly get up with an scowl on his face. You were right he had to go soon since he couldn’t be late for his promotion into higher management. He didn’t tell you that yet because he wanted to surprise you on the day you both worked the same shift.

“Ah fuck your right, thanks for the reminder what would I do without my precious work wife?”

Miki emphasized loudly, Shooting a glare towards the A-listed actor as he then gave you an abrupt hug goodbye whilst still glowering at the Dilf. The two seemed to be exchanging a clash of mixed silent threats behind your back.

Quio “gently” nudged Miki away from his darling with a hard shove with the pointy tip of his shoe upon his midriff. Making your coworker stumble back with a sharp exhaled grunt escaping his lips. Good, he hoped that fucker gets sore down there. The single dad was always about getting his get back by being petty whenever someone blatantly tried to piss him off.

“Alright that’s enough Casanova wouldn’t wanna keep your bosses waiting yeah?”

The Dilf chirped in a sweet noncommittal manner as he briefly pulled you into a side hug. As if to cleanse you from the poor touch Miki had given you. Miki had to bite back his tongue since he really couldn’t afford to waste time with the man’s shenanigans. And rolled his eyes he could only afford to shoot you a word of warning with concern shining in his eyes before he made his way outside of the million dollar manor.

“Be careful… You know how actors are, always so full of shit. Call me when you’re done I’ll come to pick you up okay?”

“Yeah yeah, don’t let the door hit cha on ya on the way out Miki”

Quio sassed as he couldn’t wait to have that cocky fucker out of sight and out of mind. There were so many times where the actor came close to acting out. One of his many aspiring roles which consisted of him being a deranged serial killer. It would’ve gave him peace of mind to choke out that lanky shithead and watch the life leave his eyes.

But he had better things to do at the moment rather than drone in about how he’d murder Miki in cold blood. Like wooing you over for instance which was unfortunately put on pause due to a pest intent on getting in the way between you and him. So he feels a sense of relief wash over him as Miki leaves, knowing that he can finally have you all to himself.

“It seems like you two get along well enough already”

You caught the Dilf off guard with your off handed comment as he gave you a raised brow and an apprehensive smile. He shook his head slightly and gave a dark chuckle at how naive you were to perceive their little spat to be that of a friendly origin. When they clearly wanted to go at each others necks.

“It would seem so… But hey I was wondering if you’d be interested in—“

His phone decided to go off in the most headache inducing way. He could hear the annoying ringtone which indicated that his manager was calling and he bit back a snarl from being interrupted once again. Collecting himself he excused himself from the couch not being fore taking your hand in his and giving it a small chaste kiss as he gave you an apologetic gaze.

“Sorry about this sugarling I’ve gotta take this call I’ll be right back”

With his servants taking leave at his behest today was the day he planned on tying the metaphorical knot with the cute Nanny that stole both his and his little girl’s heart. So his manager had better got a pretty damn good reason for bugging him on his day of vacation leave. Or else they’ll get added to the hitlist alongside that damned coworker of yours.

。

。

。

I’m thinking of making this into a mini series, let me know if I should continue!o(≧v≦)o

[fille-de-skroa]

It really hit me while re-reading Sakura’s confession to Naruto how superficially she talks about him, even when she’s supposed to be expressing love.

She says she finally saw "Naruto’s true self", and that she’s like the rest of the villagers who idolize and respect Naruto for having saved the village. She loves Naruto because she saw him becoming a powerful ninja, and she seems to think this is who Naruto is deep inside. She’s like every Konoha citizen who considered Naruto worthless when he was a child, but loved him and admired him when she discovered that he had become a hero.

Her confession seems even more superficial when compared to Sasuke’s feelings about the "mischievous prankster loser"

Sasuke understands that Naruto pulling pranks on people was a way for him to create bonds with others. He knew this from the start, and it’s actually something about Naruto that touches him. Sasuke’s the one who saw who Naruto is deep inside, and he likes him this way.

But Sakura isn’t able to see this. She doesn’t understand Naruto. She doesn’t even understand why Naruto wants to save Sasuke, when even Shizune (who isn’t particularly close to him) could.

She talks about Naruto like he used to be a worthless brat who turned into a beautiful butterfly. Because she doesn’t understand his motivations, she treats him like a child: she takes actions "for Naruto’s sake", deciding that she has to kill Sasuke to protect gil, even when he explicitly told her he wasn’t motivated by the promise he made to her. She tries to manipulate him into not chasing after Sasuke, because she’s convinced Naruto does all of this for her, even after someone else TOLD HER that Naruto wasn’t doing it for her.

Overall, Sakura doesn’t love Naruto even as a friend. He’s more of someone she admires and can use as a support, but he’s not someone she sees as a full human being. She likes the idea of him. Kinda like how she feels about Sasuke, actually…

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

connie vs catra: falling in love with a hero

so one thing in SPOP that reminded me of SU is when Catra gets upset and angry at Adora for needing to sacrifice herself in order to save the world. something very similar to this happens in SU where Connie gets upset at Steven for turning himself in to the Diamonds, so that he can prevent everyone else from getting hurt.

and i wanted to compare these two scenarios and talk about why this kind of conflict worked with connverse, but not c//a.

1. Past Relationship And Hypocrisy

Connie and Steven had a healthy relationship prior to this incident. Connie was always supportive of Steven and quite honestly, was one of the very few people who had no expectations for him based on his mother.

the Crystal Gems constantly talked about Rose and knowingly or unknowingly put pressure on Steven to live up to her image. Greg often mentioned Rose too, and while he may not have intended to make Steven feel pressured, that was the outcome.

Connie, on the other hand, saw Steven for who he was - a 14 year old kid who had way too many expectations to live up to. she served as Steven's rock and his connection to human life, letting him goof off and relax like he should. she listened to him when he was feeling troubled, and assured him that she would always be there to support him. Connie made Steven feel loved and understood.

they also made a promise to always fight together after Pearl tries to pressure Connie into sacrificing herself for Steven. Steven is clearly uncomfortable with this and doesn't want Connie to act like his bodyguard and put herself in danger.

so it makes complete sense that Connie felt hurt and betrayed when Steven decided to do exactly that and sacrifice himself to save her and the rest of beach city. it makes sense that Connie was worried sick about Steven after he surrendered himself.

Connie feeling upset about this situation makes sense because she actually cares about Steven. she always has.

meanwhile Catra constantly used Adora's fears and insecurities against her, even when they were on the same side and especially when they were enemies. Catra made Adora feel worthless for existing, she made Adora feel like a failure.

Catra actively and knowingly contributed to Adora's self-sacrificial complex and her habit of putting everyone else's safety above her own. and then she's surprised that Adora wants to sacrifice herself to save the world. wow. who would have thunk it?

Catra has absolutely no right to act like she cares about Adora after all this. and she certainly has no right to get mad at Adora for doing something Catra herself conditioned her to do.

it makes no sense especially because the show acts like the previous seasons never happened. neither Catra nor Adora nor anyone else brings up the fact that Catra was one of the main contributors to Adora's hero complex and her insecurities. the show just glosses over that and acts like Catra being upset about all this is tragic and sympathetic.

2. Expressing Anger In A Healthy Manner

Connie is upset but she communicates her feelings to Steven in a calm manner. she tells him that what he did hurt her feelings. she is obviously angry and upset, but she's also visibly trying to keep it together and not let her anger get the best of her.

i also think that Steven kinda messed up when he replies to Connie's "i'm hurt" with "no you're not". he decided that as long as no one was physically hurt, there was no problem. he didn't stop to think about how this might have affected Connie emotionally. (i'm not hating on Steven btw, he was in a pretty tough situation himself and was just happy that everyone was safe and alive. this is a situation where both of them were in the right and it was just a complicated issue to navigate.)

basically, Connie deals with this situation more maturely than some adults might have. she felt hurt and betrayed, but she didn't use that as an excuse to hurt Steven. she said what she wanted to say and then she left to give her mind some clarity.

also she does this AFTER Steven returns home safely.

Catra, on the other hand?

she screams at Adora, accuses Adora of picking favorites and pushes her to the ground. Catra is supposedly in her 20s at this point, and she still hasn't learned to express her anger in a healthy manner. she says once that she was working on her anger issues and that's it. we never see her try, we never see any improvement.

and then Catra just abandons Adora because “she couldn't bear to watch Adora sacrifice herself”. Catra didn't just leave because she needed some time to cool off, she was basically willing to abandon Adora and let her die.

3. Clear Motives

Connie's feelings and motives are clear from the get-go. she was worried about Steven putting himself in danger, and she was angry and upset that he broke their promise and her trust.

Catra though?

first she's mad that Shadow Weaver called her a distraction. then she's concerned about Adora's choice to sacrifice herself. and finally, she's upset that Adora doesn't like her in a romantic way.

two of these were very self-centered motives. it's hard to believe that Catra was just concerned about Adora's safety when she's whining about how Adora chose Shadow Weaver over her, as if this was some kind of competition. and it just comes off as the writers shoving in as many reasons as possible for the viewers to sympathize with Catra, rather than writing an organic conflict.

in conclusion, if you want to write a relationship involving a self-sacrificial hero, do it like Steven Universe did. make it make sense instead of shoving in hypocritical conflict.

[leezlelatch]

I love your writing and style. It's been a hard week and it's made me happy after discovering it. Just wondering if you, if you had the time, could write a slightly smutty drabble. I love your take on protective doll baby Copia. He's perfect.

With the last few months I'd love to read a ficlette where he discovers the reader almost in tears after being torn down by people, told that she's worthless, and now doubting herself because of the complete lack of self esteem which is even worse after this. Copia goes into DarkCopia mode while loving her like the badass he is. He doesn't like it when people hurt his gal. And he makes sure she knows how much worth he sees in her.

Truly though, even if you don't have time...your stuff has made me happy. <3

Hello, my friend. I'm so sorry this week has been hard. I hope it has improved, and I am so happy that my writing has made a difference! Here is a little something for you from me, and Copia. <3

Copia x Reader - hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive, a little smutty, protective Copia, suggestively Dark!Copia.

The old key slipping into the lock rouses you from your light doze, and your eyes feel heavy as you turn over, watching as Copia steps into his quarters, his gaze lowered as he shifts his takeout bag from one hand to the other, depositing the key back into his pocket. He raises his head, and you make eye contact. Two things happen in that moment that makes the hair raise on your arms, and your heart warm with affection at the same time. Copia takes in the sight of you, curled up like a burrito in his blanket, your nose tucked into the fabric, eyes red. He knows it’s because you’re trying to find comfort in his scent. He knows you, in and out. His expression freezes in a ghastly stare, his eyes narrowed, lips set in a deep frown which accentuates the wrinkles around his mouth. His brows are pulled down, and he appears paler than he usually does. In short, he looks ready to hurt someone. 

But then it falls away. Cold fury melting into concern, and he drops his bag at the door, uncaring as the takeout boxes tumble and rest on their sides in his haste to reach you. Gloved hands pull you from the blankets, settling you across his lap, his arms cradling you. His face grows very close to yours, searching your eyes with a certain desperation. Copia is another person when it comes to you. The endearing, funny Papa is gone and replaced by someone who is calculating, smart, one step ahead. The real him. The one he hides, the clergy unaware that the puppet is actually the puppet master. You’re precious to him, and there is nothing this man would not do to keep you happy and safe.

“Baby,” he says very softly, his accent curling around the endearment. “Tell Papa what happened, eh?” His thumb rubs beneath your eye. “What are the tears for?”

“I had a hard day,” you respond, your voice a little hoarse. His brow furrows, and one of his hands slides its way down your body, feeling, prodding gently, as if he were checking for some external injury. “I’m okay, Copia.”

“Okay is not finding il mio amore all wrapped up and crying.” He works at removing a glove, slipping each finger out of the leather. He flexes his hand once it’s removed, and it makes you smile, even if just a little. Copia said to you before that he was used to it, but you know the constricting leather became a little much after a long day. 

“Somebody said something to me today,” you murmur, taking his hand and holding it to your face. His fingers cradle your jaw, the warmth of his skin encouraging you to speak. “And I feel like I just…can’t do right. That I’m not right. I can’t even face myself in the mirror because I’m afraid of what I’ll see.” You pause, gathering your thoughts. “I’m afraid to see that they’re right.”

Copia sucks in a shaky breath when you finish, and you can already see his mind working. “My love, I don’t want you going after anyone,” you say, reaching to grasp his chin, squeezing it gently. “I’m not telling you this to make you angry.”

He stares down at you, and then he nods slowly. Copia shifts back onto the bed so his back is against the wall and he adjusts his hold on you, looking thoughtful as his fingers pick up a soothing rhythm against your cheek. “There are a few things I need to be correcting, amore. And I need you to be good for your Papa, and listen. I will never allow a single soul in this building or elsewhere to hurt you. That goes for all our Siblings, but you are not just a Sibling, sì? You are my amore. Also,” he clicks his tongue. “The peoples are wrong. They will learn that they are wrong. And you, vita mia, also need to be corrected.”

You’re listening intently, your eyes trained on his features, adoring how expressive his features are when he speaks, but his last words make you pause. “I have to be corrected?” That was the last thing you expected to hear. 

“Yes,” Copia says, drawing out the word, his expression set. You’re bewildered when he doesn’t elaborate, letting out a sound of surprise as he firmly guides you up and out of the bed. 

“Copia, no-,” you begin to protest as he approaches the full length mirror near his dresser, your hand tightly wrapped in his grip. Copia pins you with a look that shuts your mouth, and he takes you by the shoulders, setting you directly in the reflection of the mirror. 

“We shall start here,” he says, his fingers tapping beneath your chin. “You will watch, and listen.” Copia circles you like a vulture, his hands clasped behind his back. “When you smile, I want to smile too.” His voice has lowered, tender and affectionate. “I am not so proud of my teeth, but I would smile ear to ear just to match your joy. That is healing for me, amore. You do that.”

Fingers brush your cheek. “You blush at the sight of me. At the sight of me. So beautiful and sweet, and I am sure that I have seen the depths of paradise. And the way your eyes light up when you’re excited, oh…,” he laughs softly to himself, his voice almost a coo. “Do you realize how lucky I am to know your eyes? To watch your brow furrow or rise. To see emotion pass over your face. To read the story of your life through every blemish and line.”

Your breath is stolen from your lungs, and you’re already crying. Copia’s hands shake as they grasp your hips, standing now close behind you, his voice a gentle whisper in your ear. His breath makes you shiver, and you feel his hips shift against your backside. “You’re biased,” you whisper, and he laughs.

“I am very proud of this, amore. It is a gift to be biased,” he murmurs, his eyes catching yours in the mirror. “It is a gift to have you.” His hands slip beneath your shirt, grasping and kneading at soft skin. You make a breathless noise, leaning back against him, and Copia almost purrs. “Hmm, you are liking your Papa’s touches?”

They slip higher, fingers grazing your nipples, and he pauses there. You whimper, caught between your emotions and your arousal, and Copia knows how to play you like the finest instrument. When to touch, and when to pause, letting it all wash over you, giving you the time you need to feel safe in his arms. “Your body,” he says, pressing his hips firmly into the curve of your ass. “Ignites a fire inside of me, you know? I am incomplete when I am not joined with you.” He’s almost growling now, a rough edge to his voice. 

You’re spun around in his arms and he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue thoroughly plundering your mouth and rendering you incapable of any thought. Copia has a talent at making you forget, and suddenly the cruel words from today have all but vanished from your mind. “I love you,” he hisses, nipping at your bottom lip. His hand grasps your chin, raising your eyes to his, and his tone softens. “I love you.”

He kisses you softly now, his lips curling into a smile. “You are worth everything. You don’t need to look into the mirror, amore, just look into my eyes. I see you. I see the glory in you. And you will always have a home with me. You are safe with me.”

Another tear falls down your cheek and he kisses it away. “I love you, too,” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his. Your hand slips beneath the waistband of his trousers, and he gasps, arching into your touch.

“Do not think,” he murmurs, his voice a little strained as he pushes you toward the bed. “That this does not mean they will be…removed. Papa protects what is his.”

[viperzerofsx]

why both Evangelion endings are the same and the Psychology behind them

A common long standing sentiment is that the last two episodes of Neon Genesis Evangelion and the film End of Evangelion are at odds with one another. The idea goes that the ending of the TV show is an ending where Shinji accepts instrumentality and End of Evangelion he rejects it. By going over the psychological framework in the show I would like to show that Shinji definitely rejects instrumentality in both endings.

Though well know for its references to psychology, the first half of Evangelion mostly does not contain them save episode 4 Hedgehog's dilemma (which apparently was made out of production order). This part of the series builds characters and world building. The show has a fascinating ability to flesh itself out scene after scene without truly elaborating on anything. 

The first half of the show is quite compelling but it’s not exactly what the show would become. The November 1996 Newtype interview has lots of interesting insight. Namely director Anno claims he was not familiar with psychology before reading a book on a production break (interesting as a previous work of his GunBusters has a character named Freud Jung). 

“Ueno: "They say it's about psychoanalysis and personality seminars and stuff, but I've always had a strong interest in psychology in general, "

Anno: "Not at all."

Ueno: "Did you feel like you were heading in that direction while working on Eva?"

Anno: "Yes. It was natural.

I had never read any psychoanalysis books before. I only touched on it a little in my general education classes at university. It was the most interesting of them all."

Ueno: "So, somehow, a keyword or something like an interest stuck in my mind."

Anno: "Yes. I guess I wasn't that interested in humans. But when I started talking about myself, I wanted words to convey my story.

So, the words I thought were the easiest to use were psychological terms commonly used in society. And I started looking through books.

Until then, I never thought I'd be interested in psychology."” Newtype November 1996

He continues 

“Anno: "Episode 16 was the first time. I plunged directly into my own inner world. I'd tried expressing words through line drawings before.”

Episode 16 (apparently the first episode of the second half to enter production) is called Splitting of the Breast, this is a term from Psychoanalysis Melanie Klein’s theories. Klein founded a school called object relations theory, whereas classic Freudian theory is of biological drives, object relations is a theory where people develop via interactions with others and a drive for relation with others. Internal objects are our mental representations of others, parts of others, and sometimes things (and external object would be the actual thing). We form internal representations of others based on our repeated interactions with them. Further we develop a mental representation of ourselves in relation to these objects which influence our interpersonal relationships through our our lives.

These mental representations or internal objects are called UnconsciousPhantasy. The Ph to distinguish from fantasy, ordinary everyday daydreaming and imagination, fantasy is an consciousness process while phantasy is unconscious and underlies all mental activities. Our unconscious phantasy is our relationship with the objects formed by experience to develop the emotional and intellectual character of a person, their thoughts, dreams, and defense mechanisms.

For the most part mental representations take these forms

The object as perceived by the individual 

Self perception related to the object

Individuals relationship with the object

Or

Mom is a good object because she takes care of me

Because she takes care I must be good, have value

I love my mom

Alternatively 

Mom is a bad object she ignores me when I need her

Because she ignores me I must be bad and worthless 

I hate my mom

The infants mind however is limited due to the nature of infant cognition. When the child is born it is undifferentiated from the world around it. The first other person is the child’s mother. As the child is totally dependent on the mother for survival, the mothers breasts (or a bottle) provide life giving subsistence to the helpless child. The child internalizes the breast as a “good” internal object. However when the child’s needs are not met, when it’s hungry or scared and no one is around to feed or comfort or otherwise care for it, it internalizes a “bad” breast. Infants “split” objects because they are not yet able to understand ambiguity. The good aspects of an object and bad aspects of an object are seen as separate objects.

A good object is soothing and takes care of a child. In Psychoanalytic terms good objects are associated with the Life force, Libido, Eros the will to live. A child feels omnipotents with the good object (I cry the good object takes care of me).

A bad object is an anxiety producing object, an object that does not meet a vulnerable baby's needs. a child feels persecuted by the bad object it feels a loss of omnipotents by the object  not being around when needed making the child feel powerless. Bad objects are associated with Dustrudo, Thanatos, the Death drive, a desire to return to an inorganic state before the stresses of life. A child can’t handle these feelings and projects aggression at the bad object to reassert control.

This state of coping with the world is called the paranoid schizoid position, where good objects are “protected” by being split into bad objects. If a caregiver is adequate the child will move to what’s called the Depressive position. In that stage a child realizes the good and bad objects were the same the whole time. The child feels regret for its treatment of the bad object (which along with the good object is now a whole object) and fears losing its loved ones. 

Returning to Evangelion Episode 16 

Early in the episode during a routine test Shinji’s sync ratio surpasses Auska’s for the first time. Misato praises Shinji in an effort to improve his morale, angering Auska. Though never competitive Shinji has made it clear he pilots the Evangelion for his fathers praise and he takes the news well. During a train ride Shinji is a bit overly excited and some young children laugh at him causing distress.

Later the angel Leliel attacks, with his new found confidence Shinji charges in against orders and he and Eva unit 01 are absorbed by the Angel. Later Shinji awakes on what seems to be a train and senses a presence 

Shinji : Who? 

        Who?

Shinji ' : IKARI Shinji.

Shinji : It's me.

Shinji ' : I am you.

          One has another self inside within oneself.

          The Self is always consisted of two selves.

Shinji : Two ?

Shinji ' : The self who's actually watched by others and 

         the self who wathces itself.

         IKARI Shinji in your mind.

         IKARI Shinji in KATSURAGI Misato's mind.

         IKARI Shinji in Souryuu Asuka's mind.

         IKARI Shinji in AYANAMI Rei's mind.

         IKARI Shinji in IKARI Gendou's mind.

        Any IKARI Shinji is differnt from each other,

        but each of them is true IKARI Shinji.

        You're afraid of IKARI Shinji in other's mind.

Leliel takes the form of a young Shinji, from around the time he was abandoned by his father. He tells Shinji that he has an internal Object of himself and others have an Internal Object of him. Shinji is afraid of what the others think of him because he certainly doesn’t think highly of himself.

Shinji : I'm afraid of being hated.

Shinji : You hate to be hurt.

        Who's bad ?

        Father is bad.

        Father who deserted me.

Shinji : I am bad.

-

(flashback)

Asuka : This way you always think yourself bad!

        That is "self-punishing."

-

(flashback)

Shinji : Heck, it's me who can do nothin'.

Misato :It's you that think you can do nothing?

-

(flashback)

Rei : Don't you trust your father ?

-

(flashback)

Shinji : (thought) I think I hate father. But I'm not sure.

-

(flashback)

Gendou : Well done, Shinji.

-

Shinji : Father called me by my name.

        I was praised by that my father.

Leliel tries to tell Shinji that Gendo is no good but Shinji is reluctant and points the negativity at himself. Shinji originally disliked Gendo but since he praised him Gendo is a “Good Object” who brings Shinji validation and comfort.

Shinji ' : You'll live with chewing the cub of the pleasure.

Shinji : If I trust this word, heck, I can live on from now on.

Shinji ' : ... by deceiving yourself ?

Leliel points out this is no way for anyone other then an infant to live. Holding up with your “good objects” while ignoring the bad is immaturity.

live.

Shinji ' : Unless you continue to think you may not change yourself,

         you can't live on.

Shinji : There're too many pains in this world for me to live.

Shinji ' : For example, you cannot swim ? 

Shinji : Human aren’t made to float.

Shinji : It's self-decetion.

Shinji : I don't care whatever you refer to it.

Shinji : You have been closing your eyes and turning your ears deaf 

        against anything you did not want to know.

-

(flashback from the episode 3)

Kensuke : Sorry, but his younger sister was ...

-

(flashback from the episode 4)

Misato : This is not your business to care others!

-

(flashback from the episode 1 )

Gendou : Get Out!

-

Shinji : No, I don't want to hear that!

Shinji' : Hey, you run away again.

        No one  can live on with linking things one enjoys like 

        the rosary.

        Particularly, I cannot.

Shinji : I found one thing I enjoy.

        Am I wrong if I do the thing enjoyable?

--

To summarize, Shinji hates himself because of his neglectful upbringing. For the first time in his life he’s gotten some measure of praise and he’s determined to hold on to it even at the expense of ignoring the still harsh realities of his life. This however is not resolved in this episode. Evangelion 01 goes berserk at the last minute saving Shinji and killing Leliel.

The last two episodes take place during the human instrumentality project, the goal of Seele and Shinji’s father Gendo. Gendo describes instrumentality 

Gendou:         No,

                It's not that everything returns to nothingness.

                It's nothing but returning everything to the begining.

                Nothing but returning things to the mother which

                has long since been lost.

                All the minds become one mind, obtaining peace forever.

                Nothing but that.

If mother is the first other this is before that, before polarizing good and more importantly bad objects that cause pain. Frued called the pre object faze “The Oceanic Feeling” a feeling of oneness with everything, inspired by Hindu mystics of his time. 

Shinji:         What feeling is this?

                That is what I feel like I experienced before.

                My body seems like dispearing.

                Agreeable.

                I feel like spreading, and becoming large,

                to here, there and everywhere.

Evangelion references Kabbalah but any nonduelistic mysticism would give the same point. If our bad feelings about ourselves comes from our relationship with others who we need to feel good, instrumentality seeks to merge all souls into one to avoid those negative aspects.

Shinji lost his mother at a young age and his father was neglectful and abandoned him. He has feelings of worthlessness because of this. Piloting an Eva was the first time in his life he was needed and praised, the first time he had a sense of value. He doesn’t however like doing it and is aware one day he will not be needed as an Eva pilot. The Angels will be defeated and then what need will anyone have of him? He runs away from this.

-

                        You pilot Eva for the sake of others?

-

Shinji:         Yes!

                That is a good thing.

                That is a very good thing.

                Everyone prases me, then.

Asuka:          That's a lie.

Shinji:         What?

Asuka:          You idiot?

                After all, it's for the sake of oneself.

Shinji:         Eh?

Asuka:          And you excuse yourself as usual.

Shinji:         Do I?

Asuka:          To think that you are doing your best for the sake of others

                is itself an easy way to live.

Shinji:         Is that so?

-

Asuka:          In other words, you are lonely, Shinji.

-

Shinji:         Is that so?

Asuka:          That's nothing but a dependent or symbiotic relationship.

Shinji:         That might be.

Asuka:          All you wish is that people depend on you.

Shinji:         That might be.

Asuka:          All you do is to wait for someone's giving you a happiness.

                A false happiness.

Rei:            That's the very thing you do.

Asuka:          WOW.

—

Later

Shinji:         I was praised by people!

                But, not happy.

Rei:            Which is your true mind?

Shinji:         I don't know, or, both of them are my true minds.

Misato:         So piloting Eva.

Shinji:         I have nothing but Eva.

Rei:            Otherwise you cannot keep yourself?

Misato:         It's true that Eva Unit One is part of your mind.

Ritsuko:        If you depend on Eva too much,

                Eva itself will be yourself.

Ryouji:         Eva will be all of yourself.

Misato:         The true yourself will be nowhere.

Shinji:         It's OK. I've had nothing from the begining.

                I've been learning cello, but results nothing.

Asuka:          I did not try to do from your side.

Shinji:         But, now that I can pilot Eva.

Asuka:          And, when you lost Eva, you can do nothing, like me.

                        Why pilotting Eva?

Shinji:         Because it's all of me.

Auska’s mother killed herself when she was young. Similar to Shinji Auska pilots the Eva for others not to abandon her, while at the same time wanting to be completely independent and unhurtable. She tries to validate this adultness by making romantic moves toward an adult man Kaji and to an extent Shinji who is also a prodigy Eva pilot (a cornerstone of her identity) but also seemingly meek and passive, giving an extreme love hate relationship between them.

Rei is the soul of Lilith in a cloned body of Yui, she has no past or upbringing and has very little self concept, only kept going by pacing moments of kindness from Gendo and later Shinji. She seeks death, a return to a simpler state but waivers in the attachments she’s made with others. Rei has begun to understand she has developed a self image from her time with others

Rei:            I am I.

                I've become me in the instrumentality of the links

                between me and others.

Rei:            I've been formed by the intercouse with others.

Rei:            The intercouse with people and the flow of time change

                the shape of my mind.

-

                        Those are bonds?

-

Rei:            Yes. Those've formed me so far, the thing called Ayanami Rei.

                And, those will form me from now on.

-

                        Those are bonds?

-

She no longer just wants to die but wonders if her new humanity is compatible with her true nature.

Misato seemed to have a normal relationship with her mother but had a very strained one with her father who later died saving her. Misato as a result has a much more stable personality save her odd relationships with men. She falls in love with Kaji a man she notes is very similar to her father, she breaks up with him because of this but then years later they meet again and get back together in short time. Before he comes back and again after his death Misato is also flirty and inappropriate with Shinji who is only 14 while she is 29.

Misato:         You tried to find a peace on Kaji-kun's face.

Misato:         NO!

Misato:         You tried to find a peace in Kaji-kun's kindness.

Misato:         NO!

Misato:         You tried to find your father in Kaji-kun's arms.

Misato:         NO!

-

Misato:         YES.

                I found the father within Kaji-kun back then.

                So fleed from him.

                I feared.

                He was just like my father.

                But, it was because I was happy,

                It was a joy.

                It was truly a enjoyable joy!

                So did I hate.

                So did I separate.

Ryouji:         No reason to begin a love, but a reason to end the love.

Misato:         You are kind enough,

                You are kind enough to, I hope, make me dirty.

Ryouji:         Don't hurt yourself only because you hate yourself now.

                That's only to cheat yourself by momentally punishing yourself.

                Don't do that.

Misato:         And "you must take care of yourself" say you?

-

Misato:         Guys always do so.

                And Guys work, and Guys go into their world,

                leaving me behind.

Misato:         Just like my father.

Misato:         Always trying to escape from the hardships in the reality.

                Hardship in the reality?

                It's me?

                It's me.

                Yes. It's me.

                It's inevitable.

-

Shinji:         Stop, Misato-san.

-

Misato:         I'm desparate of myself.

                I hate myself!

-

Misato:         Impure.

                Dirty!

-

Ritsuko:        Badlooking.

-

Misato:         Mean! Dirty!

                Is that the adults' intercourse? I really hate that!

-

Makoto:         Congratulations for you promotion. Major Katsuragi.

-

Misato:         The me appreciated is the me who is trying

                to play to be appreciated.

                It's not the true me.

Misato:         The true me is always crying.

We see Kaji brought out the “Good object” of Misato’s father (the one that saved her in the second impact) and this is what attracted her to him. However, being aware of the similarities brought out the “bad object” the father that neglected her during her childhood and made her mother cry.

As instrumentality continues and the internal objects converse (this is the me in your mind and the you in my mind). Shinji is taken through the early parts of the object relations individualization process. He’s taken too a pre object world, before any others.

Shinji:         What? The world with nothing. The world with nobody.

Shinji:         The world of freedom.

Shinji:         Freedom?

Shinji:         The world of freedom that would never be restrained by anybody.

Shinji:         Is this Freedom?

Shinji:         Yes. The world of freedom.

Rei:            As the result, there's nothing.

Shinji:         unless I think.

Misato:         Yes, unless you think.

Shinji:         What's the hell! I don't know what I should do.

Rei:            You are uneasy.

Asuka:          You don't have your own image.

Shinji:         Too vague.

Misato:         Everything is vague.

                        That's freedom.

This is the world of an infant at birth, simple experience. Then they introduce an other

Gendou:         I give you an unfreedom.

Asuka:          Now that you have top and bottom.

Rei:            Now that you lost one degree of freedom.

Misato:         Now that you have to stand on the bottom.

Ryouji:         But you obtain a confort.

Makoto:         You get slightly easier in your mind.

Shigeru:        And you walk.

Maya:           That is your will.

Shinji:         Is this my will?

Ritsuko:        The world with the bottom is the world surrounding you.

Touji:          Yet, you can move freely.

Kensuke:        If you wish, you can change the position of the world.

Hikari:         The position of the world does not keep the same position.

Ryouji:         That changes through the time flow.

You can also change.

Gendou:         The things that forms you are your own mind and

                the world surrounding yourself.

Ritsuko:        Since this is your own world.

Misato:         The real figure that you conceive.

                        That is the reality.

The ground allows Shinji to see himself in relation to it. He also learns his perspective, his Phantasy can be changed. But Shinji realizes something is wrong.

This is the world with nothing, the space with nothing,

                the world with nothing.

                The world with nothing but me.

                I am getting  less understand myself.

                I feel as if I am going to disappear.

                My existence is fading away.

                        Why?

Misato:         Because there's nobody but you.

Shinji:         Nobody but me?

Misato:         Because you have no existence but of yourself,

                You can't figure out your own shape.

Shinji:         My shape?

                        My image.

Misato:         Yes. You are getting to know your own shape through

                seeing others' shape.

Asuka:          Seeing others' wall, you imagin yourself.

Rei:            You cannot see yourself unless there are others.

Shinji:         Because there are others, I can exist.

                If alone, I am always alone at anywhere.

                The world is entirely by my ..

Misato:         By cognizing the difference between you and others,

                you form the image of yourself.

Rei:            The very first other person is your mother.

Asuka:          Your mother is a different person from you.

Shinji realizes it’s the social relation with others, how they treat him forms his self image, his expectations for how he’ll be treated. Rei and Auska like Klein point out Mother is the first other person, the one who starts individualization.

Shinji then sees a world where he has a more well adjusted Phantasy and lives a normal life. He realizes his limited view of himself and others can be changed. 

——

Shinji:         The real world might not always be bad.

                Yet, I hate myself. 

Makoto:         It's your mind that conceives that the reality is bad

                and hateful.

—- 

He comes to realize it’s possible for him to love himself 

Shinji:         I hate myself.

                But, I might be able to love myself.

                I might be allowed to stay here.

                Yes. I am nothing but I.

                I am I. I wish to be I.

                I wish to stay here as do I.

                I can stay here as do I!

What is important though Shinji experience pure instrumentality where others did not exist and he had no existence. He found this unacceptable and decided a better course of action was to find a healthier view of him. Loving himself as an individual or others is an inherent rejection of instrumentality which the self image cannot exist.

——

Now End of Evangelion

The movie begins, Shinji has lost almost everyone and is alone. He goes to Auska in the hospital, he sees her not because he’s worried but because he has no one else. In a comma Auska can’t respond. Shinji lashes out and does something terrible.

Though the TV ending is quite upbeat, Klein's psychology is quite dark and violent. As mentioned above the death drive plays a major role in Klein, infants who don’t have their needs met by their environment and caretakers feel anxiety and project the death drive, lash out in aggression. In Evangelion when an Eva loses control or Ritsko destroys the dummy Rei, or during the third impact the computer monitors will often read high levels of destrudo. 

—

Psychograph signal down! 

Destrado has begun to manifest! 

The pilot's ego won't be able

to take much more of this. 

No more. 

I can't take it anymore.

—

Rei who speaks of wishing to return to nothing is the living personification of the death drive, while kaworu (music is the highest achievement of Lillian culture) is Libeto or the life force.

Third impact begins with Shinji at his absolute lowest point in the series, having done something horrible to Auska and then watch her get killed. The image of Kaworu however provides him some brief comfort and he enters his internal world. He sees himself as a child with two doll looking girls that look like Rei and Auska, they build a sand castle of Nerv HQ together. Their mother (who is Misato) collects them and Shinji is left alone with no one. Alone, neglected, and his needs not met, Shinji destroys the Castle, lashing out violently, a taste of what’s to come. Shinji then seems flashes and images of Misato, Auska, and Rei. Importantly he sees sides of them unfamiliar, and more importantly not pleasure granting to him

—-

Does Misato really

do things like that?

Yes, this is also me.

The me that exists

when two hearts are joined as one.

The me that

Shinji has never known.

Reality can be painful,

but it's something that

you must learn to accept.

His internal objects of the women reject and accuse him

If I can't have you all to myself,

then I don't want anything from you. 

Then, try being nice to me. 

We are nice to you. 

Liars! 

You're just hiding

behind those smiles, 

intentionally keeping

things ambiguous! 

Because the truth causes

everyone pain... 

because the truth is very,

very traumatic. 

But ambiguity only

causes me more pain. 

That's just an excuse. 

But it scares me, 

because I don't know if everyone

will stop wanting me again. 

I feel awkward and uneasy.

Let me hear your voice! 

Don't leave me! 

Please care about me!

—

 In this sequence Shinji basically admits everything. He wants them for comfort, but he can’t handle ambiguity. The world is only black and white, good pleasure granting objects or total abandonment, no room for real people and their nuance. Shinji goes to an image of Auska on the night they kissed. He tries to be their for her but she doesn’t buy it and calls him out as someone who only wishes to avoid pain. Shinji Chokes Auska and the third impact begins.

—

No one understands me.

You never understood anything.

I thought this was supposed

to be a world without pain,

and without uncertainty.

That's because you thought that

everyone else felt the same as you do.

You betrayed me!

You betrayed my feelings!

You misunderstood

from the very beginning.

You just believed

what you wanted to believe.

Nobody wants me,

so they can all just die.

Then what is your hand for?

Nobody cares whether or not I exist.

Nothing ever changes,

so they can all just die!

Then tell me,

what is your heart for?

It would be better

if I never existed.

I should just die, too.

Then why are you here?

Is it okay for me to be here?

(Silence)

—-

The ultimate Childish lashing out of the Death Drive, Shinji forces the human race to a Preobject state, where they are all indescribable from one another. Notably in the final moments of third impact Shinji can hear the voices of the girls rejecting him. Shinji immediately rejects the world he created for much the same reason as the show

—

Ayanami. 

Where are we? 

This place is a sea of LCL. 

The primordial soup of life. 

A place with no AT Fields,

where individual forms do not exist. 

An ambiguous world... 

where you cannot tell

where you end and others begin. 

A world where

you exist everywhere... 

and yet you're nowhere,

all at once. 

Is this death? 

Not quite. This is a world

where we are all one. 

This is the world you wished for. 

But this isn't right.

This feels wrong. 

If you wish for others to exist, 

the walls of their hearts

will separate them again. 

They will all feel fear once more. 

Okay then. 

Thank you. 

I only felt pain

when I existed in that reality. 

So I thought

it was alright to run away. 

But there was nothing good

in the place I escaped to either. 

Because I didn't exist there,

and so no one existed. 

Is it alright for the AT Field

to cause you and others pain again? 

I don't mind. 

—

Having a world without others is a world with no self concept, which isn’t what Shinji real wanted either.

Reality exists in a place unknown,

and dreams exist within reality.

And truth lies in your heart.

The contents of a person's heart

shapes their appearance.

And new images will change

their hearts and their forms.

 The power of imagination is

the ability to create your own future,

and the power to create

your own flow of time.

Shinji rejects instrumentality and decides even if he doesn’t know how to be happy it’s better than losing himself. He returns to earth, the violent destructiveness of the rest of the film is replaced by a sad melancholy as he says goodbye to Yui his mother and Eva unit one.

The final scene is a microcosm of the movie. Titled “I need you” the hidden tagline of the film (and likely Gendo’s secret line) Auska returns to the beach Shinji is on. He starts strangling her like before, she puts her hand on his face, Shinji stops and cries. As mentioned before the depressive position is the next state when the Child realizes the good and bad object were the same all along. They feel regret over their treatment of the object. Shinji can finally understand ambiguity about others and ultimately himself and can move on from Black and White thinking.

To summarize, Shinji had a black and white view of himself and other people because of his neglectful upbringing. He had no sense of value for himself and saw others as either sources of validation. In both endings Instrumentality offered an ultimate retreat but Shinji found his loss of self unexceptionable and chose to reject instrumentality and mature.

[tinseltrinkets]

Part of what made Arcane Season 2 flawed is also what made it transcend as a piece of media and storytelling.

This is not to say that these shortcomings are a merit or are a necessity to keeping this aspect of the narrative, but I think while we critique what went wrong, we should understand why it did and see that part of that reason is something honestly incredible.

Arcane Season 1 was absolutely airtight in terms of storytelling. It knew the story it wanted to convey and every detail was tied together in a way that expressed that in the purest sense. It is a masterful piece of work.

Arcane Season 2 shows these characters not just in a story and not just as characters. Yes, it’s still a story and they are still characters, but the story is no longer linear and they are no longer following an archetypal character type.

The intro depicts the characters in plain white clothing, seemingly modern articles of clothing you wouldn’t see in this universe. Vi wipes off her tattoo and Jinx’s are gone.

Not only are they straying away from the expectations of their characters from their League of Legends counterparts, they’re straying away from their essence as archetypal characters.

Basically every character in the story was dedicated to trying to find meaning in the only identity they found available to them and were clinging onto ways that let them maintain that.

Vi as the protector, Jinx as the force of destruction, Caitlyn as the bringer of justice, Jayce as the face of progress, Viktor as the endlessly dedicated scientist, Ekko as the savior, and so on.

When they find themselves stray from this path, it terrifies them.

When Vi thinks there’s no one left to protect, she lives listlessly and miserably in a drunken stupor.

When Jinx thinks Isha is going to prevent her and VI’s cinematic showdown, she panics.

When Caitlyn thinks she’s failed in bringing justice when she refrained from killing Jinx, she attacks Zaun.

When Jayce thinks he’s not going to be able to contribute anything revolutionary, he tries to kill himself.

When Viktor thinks he’s not going to be able to continue his work after it kills Sky, he also tries to kill himself.

When Ekko thinks he’s going to end up reconsidering if there’s no hope for rebuilding his life when confronted with the alternate universe, he’s resistant and fearful.

The core of what makes these characters miserable, the worthless or unnuanced responsibilities they feel they have to fulfill, is also what they feel they need to live for and will do anything to continue doing so.

Despite it being painful, it’s so much easier to believe that you’re bound to be stuck in misery and bound to be the person that lives in it. At least it’s predictable.

Healing is scary, not just because of the fear that you might get your hopes up only to lose them, but also because when your sense of identity and self worth has been so intrinsically tied to this romanticized image of pain, this characterized archetype, it’s terrifying to give that up, even if you know it’ll bring you happiness. It makes it feel all for nothing.

But these identities never meant anything, and it didn’t matter if they did. They were never meant for them.

A city wracked by war and oppression was made for spiritless husks who represent this false idea of strength and who’ll do anything to achieve power. It was not made for children with dreams of being inventors and scientists and loving their families.

They’re expected to change to fit that narrative rather than changing that narrative to fit who they are.

Them becoming cynical and striving only to cause destruction isn’t in defiance to their oppressive systems, it’s in a direct response.

Their society tells them they’re useless, and rather than seeing it as a lie meant to keep them in power, they abandon their innocence and the essence of who they are to try and prove that they are. Otherwise, they’re right.

Season 2 has many flaws, especially how it approaches classist oppression and not truly resolving that and its consequences, but in terms of showing how it’s characters don’t need to succumb to the paths paved for them as characters, it shows something beautiful.

Humans are fluid, and the ideas embody don’t define all that we could be. The aspect that things can always change is terrifying but also comforting. Constantly losing something means that, somehow, it always comes back. The consistency might not be in its loss, but in its return.

[fickstueck-fs14]

This text is dedicated 

to Kristin von Stahlschmerz, my Owner who leads me with a strict hand

to Lady Eve, who stepped by the side of my Owner and supports my education and disciplination

to Sir Harry and his wife Lady J.

i was in a location i did not know. in an empty room, like in a basement. i could hear the sounds of a party from the floor above. i was naked and tied to a cross. i was waiting but i did not know what i was waiting for. i was nervous.

The air in the room was humid and hot. i was sweating and saliva was dripping out of my mouth, as my mouth was forced widely open by a tight ring gag, my saliva dripping on my body and running down my torso and legs. Feeling my own saliva run down my body made me feel soiled and filthy.

The door of the room opened, and the Sir H and his beloved wife Lady J entered the room. They were dressed in evening attire and they were wearing masks.

The contrast of me, being naked and tied on a cross, to them, wearing dress and suit, elegant and expensive evening gown, made me blush and feel even more helpless and degraded. The masks also affected me. It was intimidating to not be able to see the expression on their faces.

For a while they stood in front of me. Watching me but not saying anything. I felt embarrassed and like an animal in the zoo.

The longer the two of them were looking at me the more my embarrassment rose. 

It was a strange feeling to be displayed like this in front of two people i barely knew and especially in front of another man. Normally men compete with each other about manhood and power but there was nothing i could use for competition. No self consciousness, no strength, no dominance or masculinity. i was naked, helpless and vulnerable. Displayed on a cross like a worthless piece of meat.

What was he thinking about me right now? What was she thinking?

They did not seem to be nervous or abashed the slightest way. But then ... why should they be?

After a while my shaft started to get hard and erect. i could not prevent it as much as i tried. i felt nothing but shame. Shame and … strangely ... horniness.

i could feel the ring around my shaft now because of my growing erection and the thought that i was made to wear this ring, that literally emasculated me, as a sign of slavery, made my shame even more intense. i did not want them to see me like this, naked, exposed, erect and marked and degraded by this ring. i wanted to appear strong, dominant, eye level at least. Was this what still was remaining inside me from the times when i was the alpha? i fear for this reason my cock would start to get even harder and more erect. i could not prevent it. i felt nothing but shame. Shame and … disgrace.

Silently Sir H and Lady J stood in front of me and looked me up and down. 

Apart from my Owner, they were the first people to see my restrained shaft. I felt ashamed and I blushed. 

Their eyes scanned my entire body; everything, from my feet to my head, they took it all in. They were still quite unashamed about it. But then ... as already said... why should they be ashamed? I felt like a piece of meat, but they didn’t care.  They actually seemed  to like it. She was really quite beautiful, and I wanted her to like what she saw. She lingered a few moments on my ringed shaft and then shook her head.

“The ring looks beautiful around his nice cock. I am excited by the control that Kristin has taken of his cock with the ring. With the ring she has turned the instrument of male power that he used to dominate as an alpha, into a tool for her feminine pleasure, a human dildo, as I say. She has emasculated him and taken away his ability to orgasm and shoot his semen out into the world.“ Lady J explains to her husband. ���So the ring prevents him from having release. So it should support fickstück to become more enslaved to Kristins sexual desires, like a beast.“

When the cock is erect the ring works as support and the shaft is full, big, pulsing and hard for a very long time.  But also the ring makes an erection painful for me. That's why i take great effort to keep it limp. But now it was hard and erect.

The Sir H said after a chuckling laugh: „It‘s cock may appear strong, a veined, throbbing symbol of masculinity, pulsing with rigid power; but it is a helpless prey held in check by a strict tight ring that makes it impossible to achieve sexual satisfaction. Poor bastard.“

That is why she has enclosed, sealed me with her ring: so that my foreskin holds my glans captive and i am always horny for her and can give her pleasure at any time.

There is no release for me. For me there is only hunger. Since i had been ringed i constantly felt like i was on the verge of insanity.

My Owner had announced my ringing a long time ago, but after I still had not been ringed like this month after her first announcement I was relieved and thought this would not happen anymore.

But then my Owner had decided that my shaft should be locked so that I could no longer masturbate and no longer have the ability to have an orgasm too. I was to serve my Owner as a human dildo, like like she called it. With the ringing she had taken away my ability to ejaculate and to feel the pleasure of an orgasm.

A permanent steel cock ring, enclosing the root of my shaft and my testicles and it is very tight so that it cannot be removed without being cut open by using special tools. To remove it, it would have to be destroyed. It can be tightened or loosened with a special tool. 

Another small, tiny ring has been inserted "surgically" into my foreskin, constricting it but leaving open a small and tiny hole that allows me to pee. The glans is constantly locked. As the smaller ring is sewn into the foreskin, it leaves only a small hole to pee or to sound the urethra. It prevents that the foreskin can be pulled back over the glans and makes the procedure of hygiene a big and humiliating effort as the glans can only be cleaned by using a syringe or pipette.

“It’s glans is now held captive by it’s foreskin. The foreskin can now no longer be retracted, is permanently closed but still open wide enough to be able to meet the natural needs. This method was used in Rome in ancient times to keep slaves, who served as gladiators, chaste.” my Owner said while entering the room, accompanied by Lady Eve.

I felt the need to close my legs, to hide my shame but the cross held me inexorably in this open vulnerable position and forced me to present my most private body parts to them.

By now, my Owner and Lady Eve also stood in front of me. Both wore masks too.

"Oh my god. He's really hit bottom" I heard Lady Eve say in a disgusted voice.

She was now standing with Lady J right in front of me. Behind the two Ladies stood Sir H and my Owner. They were looking at me with a mixture of curiosity, amusement and dislike, if not disgust.

"How can a person degrade himself like that?"

Sir H laughed contemptuously.

"That's not a human being anymore. He's just a thing now, an animal at best. My God, ... I mean ... anyone who lets himself be sold the way he did ... deserves the title of slave."

"Even a prostitute" Lady J replied "can still choose her suitors, even they still refuse suitors if they are too proud to serve them. Even they have at least a last vestige of pride and dignity. But this?"

Disgusted, she shook herself and snuggled into her husband's arms.

"What do you think, does he like it? Or was he forced into it?" asked Lady J.

"I don't know." replied Sir H "Why don't you ask him?".

"You think so? Really? You want me to ask him?" she smiled at her husband, but couldn't quite hide her uncertainty.

"Yes, ask him. You can touch him too if you want." he replied patronizingly.

It was the first time I had heard another man allow someone to do something to me. I felt resistance rising in me, looked the Sir H challengingly into the eyes, but then remembered what position I was in and lowered my gaze. 

"Oh" she giggled "Thank you, my Lord." she said ironically.

While she was already taking a step towards me I also heard Lady Eve:

"I would like too" she breathed in the direction of my Owner and when she nodded with a smile she immediately followed Lady J.

Amused and interested, they looked at me from top to bottom. My breathing quickened. 

"Tell me, fickstück, do you like this?" Lady Eve asked me in a soft voice.

I didn't respond, but kept my gaze lowered so that I was forced to stare into her cleavage. I could tell she wasn't wearing a bra. Her nipples were clearly visible despite the thick fabric of her dress. The sight of them excited me. I was afraid of getting an erection, because apart from how embarrassed I would be I didn't know how she would react if she noticed that I was getting horny on her.

"slave, look at me" she purred. With that I was snapped out of my thoughts and cautiously I lifted my gaze, grateful to be able to take my mind off her body.

"Do you like this place? The way you're displayed here, what's about to happen to you, and what you are afterwards? Do you like this evening? Do you like this situation?"

She looked me in the eye, and I knew that my look betrayed my insecurity and fear. I had to answer, I was told to earlier. But how should I answer? Yes, or no? 

"Do I like this?" I asked myself. "Do I like it, the way I'm exhibited here, what's about to happen to me and what I'll be afterwards? Yes, I like it. And I must confess to myself that I am ashamed that I like it. But still, I like it, because I know it's right. I do not actively want it, no, but yes, i like it because it is right and i deserve it." 

After a few seconds I shook my head and lowered my gaze again. I couldn't bring myself to admit to her that I liked it, that this was what I needed. I still didn't know if I was ashamed of it in front of her or in front of myself. But I was too ashamed to admit it.

"Did your Owner make you do this? Did she force you to?"

Again, I shook my head.

"Then it's your own fault. And then you don't deserve any pity. And no mercy either. I hope to watch the guests torture and use you extensively today. I can't wait to hear what it sounds like when you moan in pain and despair."

Lady J whispered something in her ear. They both giggled.

Then I felt her take my shaft between her thumb and forefinger and try to pull back my foreskin. I wished I could beg her not to touch me there, because I knew that this touch would be too much for me, that I would not be able to prevent an erection. She started laughing and still laughing she said to Lady J:

"He's really locked. No kidding. The foreskin won't go back."

"And he seems to like it too" she replied, pointing at my erection with her arm outstretched and her index finger. I felt my cock twitch and heard the others laughing while I was still looking at Lady Eve, who was concentratedly wiping her fingers with which she had touched me with a white cloth handkerchief. Then she handed the cloth to Sir H, who folded it carefully and stowed it in his pants pocket. 

"The ring around his shaft is really tight. Does it hurt him when he gets hard?" Lady Eve asked.

Yes, an erection became painful because of the ring. Unpleasant but at the same time all the more arousing because that pain reminded me of what I am and what I can no longer get. 

"His hard shaft shows that he still has selfish desires. He needs continued and consistent education and humiliation." said Sir H. He stepped toward me and took my shaft in his hand, encircling it with his hand. I felt the pulse beating in my shaft, it was getting harder and harder. The ring hurt but that only excited me more. I began to move my hips. It was a desperate attempt to fuck the fist of Sir H. After a few thrusts, he opened his hand. My shaft twitched, but it was impossible for me to come to an orgasm. The result of the rings i was modified with.

"You are so greedy." said my Owner. "Like a mangy bitch." I tilted my head. "I knew I would be punished for this impetuosity, though not right now, for surely she wanted to present me to her other guests with no marks. Still, I knew what that innuendo about the bitch meant.

Suddenly from another room i heard barking of dogs and I was still panicking about my Owner's innuendo. I was so scared now that I lost control of my body functions, and my bladder gave way.

They all started laughing heartily.

"We are very eager to hear your confession and how you will present it to the guests," the Sir H said.

While the four of them strolled back into the hall, Lady Eve turned around once more and looked at me. I spread my legs as wide as the fixation on the cross would allow. My cock was getting hard again, and I was enjoying the pain the ring was causing.

When they had left the room and I was alone again, I felt again the fear I had about tonight. I hoped that Lady Eve, Lady J and Sir H would be able to enjoy it. Again I spread my legs as if they were still standing in front of me. To confirm my abject humiliation and acceptance of my fate.

@kristin-von-stahlschmerz @wonderevel @harrysharbourbazaar

[noobiestnoober]

Shadows of Destiny (Kai x Reader)

The story is set during when Kai escapes from the Prison World with the Heretics. Y/N, being a close friend of Kai, who had developed feelings for Kai in Prison World - 1994, found out he escaped and was planning to commit mass murder at Alaric and Jo's wedding, decides to confront and stop him. But she gets restrained by Kai instead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're going to regret this," Y/N snarled, jerking against the restraints with all her might. The friction of the ropes would scrape her chafed wrists, but she didn't even give a damn; the fury inside her was burning far more than any literal pain. Kai Parker stood before her, his smile infuriatingly calm, "Regret the time spent with you? Never!" His voice was smooth, almost tender, a stark contrast to the malice in his eyes.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. She had known Kai for months. She had seen his cruelty and moments of vulnerability. But this was different; she'd always been able to keep herself cool around him, but this time, the stakes were up. Too many lives depended on her getting out of there and stopping him.

Their history was a complicated one. Y/N first met Kai in the 1994 Prison World, where she was stuck with Bonnie and Damon. Then, he was the charming sociopath who thrived off chaos and destruction. But in those quiet moments, away from Bonnie and Damon, there had been something else. Kai had a way of making Y/N blush with his relentless flirting and teasing. He had a way of getting under her skin, making her feel things she didn't want to acknowledge.

"Y/N, come on," Kai would say, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "You know you like having me around. Admit it." He'd lean in close, his breath warm against her ear, and she would feel her cheeks flush, despite herself trying to stay stoic.

"You're insufferable," she would throw back, drawing herself up and shooting him a look, but inside, she was thrilled with every fiber of her being when he did that. Faced now with the reality of his actions, those memories felt like a distant dream. The boy who had made her blush was also the man who was capable of unimaginable cruelty.

"You think this is a joke, Kai? You think you can keep playing your twisted games and get away with it?" Her voice shook with her fury, but she made herself meet his eyes steadily.

Kai tilted his head, his smile widening, "Y/N, you don't understand. It's not a game; this is beyond my control. This is destiny. This is what I was put on this earth to do."

"Destiny?" Y/N spat out, eyes blazing, "To hurt people, to cause chaos? That is not destiny, Kai. That is madness."

He took a step closer, his expression darkening, "Madness? Perhaps. But it is madness with a purpose. You see, Y/N, I have spent my whole life being told I was worthless, an abomination. But now, finally, I have power. Finally, I am in control."

Her heart ached for the pain she saw flicker across his eyes. For a moment, she saw the boy who had been discarded, who had been made to feel like nothing. But she couldn't allow herself to pity him. Not now.

"Kai, listen to me," she said, her voice softer but no less urgent, "You don't have to do this. You can choose a different path. You can use your power for good."

He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound, "Good? There's no good left for me, Y/N. Just survival. And the only way I survive now is by winning this fucking game."

Y/N's mind raced for something to say to him, "Kai, if you do this, you'll be alone. Completely and utterly alone. Is that really what you want?"

His smile faltered for just a fraction of a second; then it was back, colder than ever, "Better alone and powerful than surrounded by people who will never understand me."

Y/N felt a surge of desperation. She had to break through to him, had to find a way to make him see reason, "Kai, please. I know you. I know there's still a part of you that cares, a part of you that doesn't want to be the villain."

Kai's eyes narrowed, "It's too late for that, Y/N. It's too late for anything but this." He turned away, and for the first time, Y/N saw a hint of uncertainty in his movements.

"Kai, wait!" she cried, struggling against her restraints, "You don't have to be alone. We can find another way. Together."

He paused, his back to her, and for a moment, Y/N thought she had reached him. Then he shook his head, shoulders stiffened. "I'm sorry, Y/N. But this's the only way I know how to be."

And with that, he walked out of the door, leaving Y/N bound and desperate in the cruel world. Her heart went heavy, knowing she had come so close yet so far from being able to save him. As the door closed behind him, she vowed she would not give up. She would find a way to stop him, to save him, even if it were the last thing she did.

__________________ __________________ _____________

Read Part 2 here >>> Part 2

[alliskit]

BG3 Headcanons Nobody Asked For.

Part 3: Enneagrams.

If you’ve never heard of the Enneagram, it’s a personality type system. You can learn more here.

I love the Enneagram (helped with some serious family healing) because it is in-depth, but I’m gonna to do a little “fly-over” of each type and who I feel best fits each. Feel free to give other types you think each embody!

The layout: Motivations // Core Fears

Enneagram 1: Minthara

Want to be right, to strive higher and improve everything, to be consistent with their ideals, to justify themselves, to be beyond criticism // being corrupted, defective

She is deeply upset that she broke her oath to Lloth, even if it wasn’t her fault.

Instead of seeking Lloth for forgiveness or redemption, she believes that she is too corrupted and would rather be an oath breaker than face her old goddess.

She does not like being wrong

Is often right which justifies her desire to never be seen as wrong

She is organized, orderly, and fastidious; maintains high standards — earned her place as the grey warden

She is critical and perfectionistic (cue my fave companion analysis conversation lol)

When first out of the cult she is moody and angry (and a bit irrational about her vengeance and her circumstances)

As she grows, you get ‘silly’ Minthy, the drow comedienne (“it was a beautiful webbing” lol)

Enneagram 2: Shadowheart

Want to be loved, to express their feelings for others, to be needed and appreciated, to get others to respond to them, to vindicate their claims about themselves // being unwanted, unworthy of love

“My Lady Shar must love me”

Not to mention her feelings of insecurity being reinforced by the stupid rats in shar’s temple: “unworthy!”

She is the mom/nurse companion, thinks her servitude is how she will be wanted

Acts aggressive and stand offish (leaning into 8 stress response) when feeling threatened/angry

She starts off prideful, deceptive, and self-deceptive and grows to be self-sacrificing, nurturing, and generous

As she grows she also becomes more comfortable in herself and finding ways to express herself outside of others (new hair!)

Enneagram 3: Gale

Want to be affirmed, to distinguish themselves from others, to have attention, to be admired, and to impress others // being worthless

50% of romance arch is him trying to impress you so much you pick him despite you consistently romancing other characters

Other 50% is him trying to impress you with trying to be a god so you will stay with him

Someone made him feel worthless as a kid so he summoned a fireball and a tressum and then finally got attention from a goddess so now he has to continue to prove his magic is worthwhile

After being cast out by Mystra, he doesn’t recognize it’s because he basically tried to give her the weaves version of a Trojan horse virus instead of him being “deficient” or a “failure” in some way. Sadly, the dumbest wizard in the realms solidifies this belief by saying “you know where you failed”

He was the definition of apathetic and disengaged the year in isolation (3s need people badly) when he was taken and started healing he embodied what he had always wanted to present: authentic, compassionate, and more easy going.

Ambitious is the name of the game! He would be the god of all 3s.

Enneagram 4: Astarion

Want to express themselves and their individuality, to create and surround themselves with beauty, to maintain certain moods and feelings, to withdraw to protect their self-image, to take care of emotional needs before attending to anything else, to attract a “rescuer” // have no identity or personal significance

Despite having not seen his face in 200 years and having only attention because of it you’d think he rather be ugly so he isn’t used for his body but nope he needs to be reassured that he is in-fact still gorgeous

A terrible combination is a narcissist abuser and a partner who will do anything to hold onto a sliver of themselves

“I called on all the gods but no one answered”; willing to entertain new kinds of slavery (basically prostituting himself to tav from his pov, entertaining Raphael, and the tadpole) if it meant being saved

All about the ✨aesthetic✨

At his worst he does things to manipulate to keep people close (believing they won’t stay otherwise) and is moody and violent (emotional turbulence of getting approvals and disapprovals almost at the same time sometimes lololol)

At his best is balanced, introspective, and vulnerable (vulnerable in a way that's not to garner sympathies/manipulations)

He starts off very hopeless, self-destructive, and very indulgent (has addictive tendencies for coping; Minthy's observation is excellent), taking everything personally and is paranoid

Is a creative (embroiders!)

Enneagram 5: Jaheira

Want to possess knowledge, to understand the environment, to have everything figured out as a way of defending the self from threats from the environment // Being useless, helpless, or incapable

She is epically tired and living in survivor's guilt in a leadership role, so she will seem like an 8 taking charge (this woman is a researcher and explorer with a sense of justice, just take a look around her incredible study!)

Secretive and independent are the titles of a 5 and she embodies both. Once again: her basement lair.

She stuck it out for 20+ years in the Shadowlands because she is a problem solver and won't leave until the problem (Ketheric you wrinkly ass) is solved. (Also someone explain to me how she is gone for 20 years yet 2 little human kids know her like she's their mommy? Come on larian....)

She is high strung and intense, yet an inspiration. There is a reason even Halsin is in awe. She is a force. He had to leave to survive, yet she was the one who found Isobel and created a safe haven. This woman might feel useless and isolated, but she is resourceful.

She is the ultimate defender, which makes her the best Harper. She studies her opponents before she attacks and she uses her warriors like chess pieces who rarely fail. The Harpers are known to be efficient because she is efficient. She wastes no lives. She needs them all.

Enneagram 6: Wyll

Want to have security, to feel supported by others, to have certitude and reassurance, to test the attitudes of others toward them, to fight against anxiety and insecurity // being without support and guidance

They are known for being the ultimate friend and buddy. They are the ride or dies. Wyll is the companions' favorite.

He is engaging not because he was socially trained, he is that way naturally.

He is both rebellious, but also not a risk taker. He defied his father to be warlock, yet won't hop on the tadpole train for power. There has to be a positive payout for the risk.

He can be one the of the most encouraging, but also one of the meanest.

He wants to be recognized. He likes his moniker. He will act like it was gifted to him, but he leans into it and hides behind it arrogantly. ("My friends call me Wyll", so everyone else has to know him as the Blade FIRST.) He thinks it hides his true failure, which is that he has to depend on a devil for any of the power his moniker gives him. ("A story of two men" when you find out he's basically a prince... as if that is a bad thing. Gods. Face palm.)

He is wary of authority figures and most literally chose to be his own authority by becoming the Blade and not the next Ulder.

He is a champion of the people, the bards aren't being paid by his PR team. 6s fight injustices big time. They may not defy EVERY authority, but they will stand up to them to help others (8s take a seat you're coming...)

In a safe space, he is laid back and fun. (Dancing with tav around the fire!)

6s do a really good job at saving face during stress, even if they are crumbling inside. (He totally is and I highly suggest you don't let his dad die.)

Enneagram 7: Karlach

Want to maintain their freedom and happiness, to avoid missing out on worthwhile experiences, to keep themselves excited and occupied, to avoid and discharge pain // being deprived and in pain

Karlach wants to taste, touch, see, smell, and hear everything life has to offer.

Getting trapped in Avernus was literal hell for her. It is an empty place where she was on a leash. Getting to literally touch grass is life-giving.

She can endure a lot, but if she could just turn it off, she would.

Her screaming "I'M FREE" even if Zariel is hunting her (versus Astarion's constant paranoia despite also being free)

She struggles with impatience and impulsiveness. She literally runs from her fears.

With growth she leans into true contentment, even if it means living in Avernus.

She is overtly optimistic even in the face of death (would rather die than go back to Avernus and is willing to back it up with wanting to use her time left to live to the fullest even tadpoled)

Enneagram 8: Lae’zel

Want to be self-reliant, to prove their strength and resist weakness, to be important in their world, to dominate the environment, and to stay in control of their situation // being harmed or controlled by others

Unlike Minthara who knows she has weaknesses, but has to overcome them, Lae'zel believes that she has to do everything to never be weak. She can't abide weakness.

Githyanki are conquerors and she must dominate all her foes and cirmcumstances.

They fight against oppressors (ghaik) to stay in control. She will fight Vlakkith once she realizes her queen is just another controlling oppressor.

You have to roll a wisdom or persuasion check to get her to be vulnerable or else she's not unless you're romancing her. And to romance her, you have to let her dominate you or you show your dominance. Literally.

She keeps things close to the chest until her proverbial armor begins to melt after the incident at the creche. She is terrified underneath it all. She is about to become the thing she hates most and her own people would rather kill her. She is no longer worthy of being alive. She stood her ground and made her place in pursuit of becoming one of the greatest only to be made weakest by the tadpole.

She starts off being completely self-interested and isn't willing to help others, but by the end, she is using her talents and self-confidence to save her people and the Sword Coast (she deserves a line like Shadowheart about "you know who I never cared about? Desperate people.")

Enneagram 9: Halsin

Want to create harmony in their environment, to avoid conflicts and tension, to preserve things as they are, to resist whatever would upset or disturb them // Of loss and separation

When asked if he will miss being First Druid and his answer is "Gods no!" is on brand 9. They make fantastic leaders, yet would rather not deal with the politics of it all.

He, like Karlach, is a runner. Even though he wrapped his avoidance in a "I must cure the shadowlands" bow, he saw a chance to get out of the Enclave's issues he felt he couldn't fix to go somewhere he felt he would be needed more.

A big complaint of Kagha's is that Halsin was inattentive. He was disengaged. He was clocked out internally while trying to give everyone what they wanted to "keep the peace". Only 4 other druids in the busy grove are against Kagha on this.

He defers responsibilities to have his own peace. He asks a lot of the companions for his own quest, while not joining them on theirs (I know this is a Larian issue, but there are so many lines with Halsin that are "Wait, why am I doing this for you?" and "Is he finally joining us?" indicating he was just chilling while the rest adventured)

He spends most of Act 2 trying to make up for a major loss. He clings to tav because he doesn't want to lose them too. The more he grows with the group, the more autonomous and self-assured he gets. Especially after reuniting with Thaniel.

He becomes one of the best and beloved companions as he heals: 'Optimistic, reassuring, supportive: have a healing and calming influence—harmonizing groups, bringing people together: a good mediator, synthesizer, and communicator.'

I know I left Minsc out but he’s a 7 from what I can tell! He’s a fun add on companion, but I’m going to omit him from this line up.

This was A LOT. But such food for thought. Thank you for enduring my mindFULL imaginings this time. This could have been so much more detailed but it's already so long.