#just feeling all sorts of emotions again and my mind is really on one

[sunnylucy31]

Some asks I got for these in discord, reposting my answers here:

Pierce is on the spectrum, though she does a good job of masking most of the time (until you get her talking about her special interest which is stars and astrology (fun fact she can tell your star sign just by looking at you, very useful power)).

Frieda has BPD, and she handles it by not handling it (that is, she bottles up everything related to it, The Queen must not show weakness to subordinates). Her people don’t say her name and only refer to her as “the queen” out of respect, but a large part of her believes it’s because they disapprove of her (RSD will have you making logical leaps like that, it’s a bitch).

20. Frieda is often jealous of how tight knit her peoples’ bonds with each other are; as the queen she’s often excluded from that since everyone else puts her on a pedestal (as noted previously, they refer to her by title rather than name). More specifically she’s jealous of Hunter’s ongoing thing with Siren, as she’s been yearning for his attention for years and never received it (not in the way she wants, anyway). Again, she handles this by bottling it up, as the queen cannot be distracted by such trivial emotions. Good thing glass bottles are famously sturdy, this practice will surely continue to be a sound one.

If Maya is jealous of anything, it’s her peers’ ability to be content with tedium. With a perfect memory, she’s painfully aware of how much repetition the average day has, but her fellows don’t seem to notice, or if they do, don’t seem to care. Hell, some of them appear to find comfort in the routine, the normalcy. She attempts to shake this feeling off, but like everything else in her flawless recall, she can never entirely put it away.

25. My favorite aspects of both are going to be the angsty parts because apparently I’m a sadist.

For Frieda it’s the dehumanization. The Titans made her to be a living weapon. The gods branded her as an abomination for existing. And her own people turned her into a martyr, a Messiah figure that could prop up their fragile hopes. At no point does Frieda get to be Frieda; She’s Zero, or Priority Target One, or The Queen. Max will be the first person to treat her as human in a long time, and that’s going to be a profound moment for her that I really look forward to.

For Maya it’s going to be exploring all the detriments to a flawless memory and how the human psyche wasn’t meant to handle having that sort of ability. Imagine every mistake you’ve ever made, every abuse you’ve suffered, every pain you’ve felt, as crystal clear in your mind as the moment it happened. How do you heal? How do you move on? I do so love a good “your great power is really a curse” trope.

Frieda certainly wouldn’t think she could get away with it. Tenet Two of the demititans’ code is to do no willful harm against a fellow demititan, and to her mind she isn’t above the code. Her people on the other hand would feel differently. As I said above, they’ve turned her into their Messiah; all their hopes for survival rest in her. While it would be a deeply unsettling event for many, they’d find some way to justify it if only to keep her at the forefront, to keep her trying to save them.

4. Frieda’s innate instinct when scared is to freeze, followed by flee. Years of training have embedded a fight response in her, but part of her still feels the urge to run and hide when shit gets scary.

9. “Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along.” -Terry Pratchett

19. Rage makes Frieda’s calm and collected queenly mask fall away entirely. It’s the one emotion she’s never had much practice at containing, so when it comes out, it really comes out. Violence is basically a guarantee at that point.

Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Send me a number and an OC, and I'll answer.

What memory would your OC rather just forget?

What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn?

How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?

Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal?

How does your OC behave when enraged?

Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

What is your favorite thing about your OC?

[thegreatbeyondmp3]

going out with coworkers tomorrow night. please god grace me with the ability to act like a semi-normal human being

[chalk-homunculus]

There's a few good irl friends we have that we unfortunately don't live very close to, but every time we do see them I can tell a part of our brain feels relieved in the sort of "home with my people" type of way. It's just that, on some level I also realize that's just us. We've always felt a bit like an outsider, even in groups where we're technically "allowed in" if that makes any sense. It's like... I can see the complicated, colourful strings that connect all those people to eachother, histories, inside jokes, and all- but for us, at best, we'll have one or two of those strings, connected to maybe one or two people, while theirs are fully woven, like fabric. We may be developing a few spider-silk like threads with some of them if we're lucky, but we're still obviously just a frayed edge, something to either burn off or patch over. And we're all too aware of this, and it makes us overthink. Interacting with people, even when we WANT to, is exhausting and stressful, because we think over every single thing we said, every single reaction we picked up from people around us, every single topic- and even the slightest perceived negative reaction (oh gods, did the way we worded this upset person 1? Oh no, did the way I explained that annoy person 4? What if the way I talked about this other thing was unclear, does person 2 think badly of us now because they think we were describing our own opinions?) Becomes a ghost in our head that keeps haunting us until we either know for sure it's been sorted out (which often annoys people, that we want to go over the same damn things a million times out of insecurity) or it cracks us and makes us entirely sabotage and burn that bridge ourselves, before anyone else can (because we've fooled ourselves into thinking that if it's us that burns the bridge, it won't hurt as much and it's better for them that way). It's the way we've become so flighty and quick to flee and run from people, that's in contradiction with the constant desire to make meaningful connections and have close friends. It's just another thing we're working on in therapy, but it feels like this one is one of the biggest struggles and I feel bad about it, not for our sake, but for those few actually strong bond friendships we have, where those friends have to put up with us being terrified of their larger friend group because no matter what we feel like a disconnected outsider

[balteredsworld]

wilson’s hypothesis. gregory house

🥼🩺 | according to wilson, house likes you and you like him. so, house confronts you with wilson’s hyposthesis.

masterlist: greg house n all

warnings/tags! fluff of sorts, angst if you squint, talks of self-sabotage, idiots in love, sherlocked reference!!! (just watched 8x18—house self-sabotages so bad my lord)

author's note: lowkey hate this but it's idk what're we thinking fellow ducklings???

"wilson thinks i like you," house airs.

you throw him a strange glance.

"crazy, right?"

"yeah? and you think i like cameron," you mimic, matching his dismissive detachment to comedic effect.

only, house is serious.

“no, wilson thinks i like you.” house ignores your joke, repeating wilson’s solemn hypothesis.

when you pause to look at his face, your mind goes off into complete nonsense like's just tipped you over and left you with internal bleeding in your brain, upon the realization that he does, in fact, mean those words he's telling you.

"what makes him say that?"

"i'm apparently connecting with you,” house indulges, relaxing into the cold bit of wall behind him. the moonlight hits him in a more subtle way, half hidden in the shadows. the blue of his wrinkled shirt melts into the glow it radiates.

you're not particularly sure what to say. thankfully, he elaborates.

“you share your food with me, i take your food, ergo it means something in wilson's romantic world,” house offers, before quickly dismissing the thought of his supposed feelings for you. "but you know wilson, he's always been a romantic. thinks he can diagnose emotions as easily as diseases."

you consider the argument, "well couldn't that just mean i can't finish my food and you don't wanna get your own?"

he squints at you, as if with drills for eyes. you're playing dumb, unless you really believe that. but you don't.

you clear your throat, "well, do you believe that?"

"well it's either that or i must obviously like you."

you gawk. "well, do you?"

"do i have to spell it out for you?"

"wilson had to," you snark back. "so, do you?"

"no," he says with a flat face.

something in your chest drops, just as your brows shoot up. "no?"

"no," he reaffirms.

you don't know if you manage to catch your frown. house doesn't say anything if you didn't. you're more than a little embarrassed, surely flushed. you're thankful that the two of you are under the dim veil of night.

"well good thing," you grumble.

house looks at you with a curious look, as if he was almost offended you would say that. "good thing?"

“we’re both lonely. lonely means self-sabotage,” you explain, fiddling with one of the main trinkets that line the ledge. you were sure you proving your point, coming up with an off-putting rationale to cover up your embarrassment. "two self-saboteurs, well, that's an equation with proven unresolved issues... so yeah, good thing."

you were internally cringing at the words you were spitting out, but you were trying to play it cool. it's something that's never worked in your favour though when you were near an attractive guy, and you always swore this was to make them repulse the inkling of interest. and you swore off doing this years ago, but the blunt rejection, if you could call it that, sprung the teenager out of you.

then again, house affects you like that. blue eyes and blue shirt and all.

he makes it no secret that he's a ladies' man, often hitching hookers into the hospital despite cuddy's gentle parenting to make him stop. but house does whatever he wants in the hospital, hence all the lawsuits you've had to deal with.

when you look at him again, he's somehow uncharacteristically quiet. you're unsure if his speculative eyes are because of a lightbulb moment, but one thing's for sure: he was thinking.

"you're thinking, aren't you?" you glean in a tilt.

house doesn't say anything, but turns away from you. when he does, you're unsure if you see his lip curl in disappointment—he hides it too well. some part of you hopes, but you know you're not his type. a bit too much like him in the overanalyzing and overthinking.

and maybe you're convincing yourself, but realistically speaking, your happy arrangement of sharing food in the middle of a hospital shift may work for lonely and misery, but not for anything else. two people who like self-sabotage is like a dumpster fire.

you'd rather have house like this, happy and alarmingly blue.

"aaand you've stopped listening. i shall take that as my cue to leave," you announce, hopping off the ledge in the same ginger fashion you had waltzing in.

when you land your feet, house airs his deduction, nodding along as if he was finally making sense of you and wilson’s hypothesis. 

“maybe he’s onto something.”

you turn to him with a tinge of a worrisome brow. 

“who knows? maybe i’ve been sending subtle signals that even i’m not aware of. so what do you think?” he croons his head, all ominous, arriving to a conclusion. you can practically see the cogs turn in his brain. “you like me.”

"i never said that.”

house looks at you, rising in a smooth motion, as if to showcase his towering height, forcing you to look up at him. sitting down, he's not so large, but now, all you can think is that he's tall.

"you might not, but your body does," he croons, dangerous smirk playing about his face. his eyes probe your face, confidently with a proven theory. "pupils dilated..."

house grabs your wrist, eyes practically lighting up in delight at his impending diagnosis.

"…and pulse elevated. i understand that wilson thinks that love's a mystery to me, but the chemistry's incredibly simple," he says, softening his grip on you.

house doesn't let go, lingering in this proximity, leaning closer like some ghost and spirit you'll always look for. your breath hitches, but house doesn't afford you time to quite think, capturing your lips in a kiss that you reciprocate, clutching onto his arms for balance.

you feel one of his hand snake to the nook of your back, pushing you flush against him. house keeps his other hand cupping your cheek and jaw, large enough to cover that expanse of your face. it's a little dry and rough, but you don't mind, all too preoccupied with his lips.

house makes good work on you. his lips are even better than you'd imagine, but you finally register his words and what you were doing, so you pull away. the furrow of your brows returning, apprehensive about his next words.

you whisper, “i thought you didn't like me.”

"i was lying," he shrugs. "i needed to see if i was right, and i was."

"so you figured me out?"

"you like me,” house concludes, triumphant. “i was right.”

“i thought this was wilson’s hypothesis?” you cock a brow.

“hypothesis,” he nods before flicking your head. “but i can’t give him the credit for my diagnosis.”

you let out an airy laugh, relieved that he didn't make you spell it out for him. "you're an ass, you know?"

his eyes are proudly heralding trumpets. you could practically hear the victory going off them.

"it comes with the sitting arrangement."

[angevinyaoiz]

Was compelled by these tags but I wanted to put my personal analysis here! Trying to keep it strictly based on the events of the movie and not on pure speculation or external historical stuff, bc I think they do a LOT of interesting things in this short scene and what it implies about the Richard and Philip and Henry (and Louis) relationship dynamics.

I think because this happened right after his back and forth with Henry where Philip felt like he was getting somewhere until Henry did his whole smug ass "Haha I win I squeezed all the information out of you ;D goodnight!" It made him jump out of his more calculated "facts and logic" mode and into a more deeper sense of his burning resentment and inferiority complex, hence the whole "you made my father nothing...and then you made him love you for it" speech. Love is kind of established as a sign of weakness and submission, even if in this case it's not in a romantic context. Louis is a "loving man" who (in the world of TLIW) gets taken advantage of by Pushy men like Henry and Philip is frustrated with that weakness. And so when Henry smugly reveals he was just probing Philip for info, Philip feels like he is "losing" and being demeaned again and so decides to pull out his secret weapon.....His Super Special Scandalous Information jfjdif to throw more fuel on the fire.

Course the main thing is Henry isn't even that scandalized like you said ("Richard finds his way into so many legends, let's hear yours" and in the play after the telling he's just like "I've heard better" lmfao...3 out of 5 stars. Also let's not forget he's also a boydiddler too from his speech to Alais in the opening scene. The royal corkscrew is NOT easily shocked!!). Philip is playing an interesting paradox where he's basically framing Richard as the Older Predatory type taking advantage of him, but also Richard is simultaneously Pathetic and weak at the same time for caring so much about not just sex presumably but wanting to be loved and desired. Philip also casts himself as the Victim in this scenario, as the younger, innocent and un-desiring party, but also positions himself as being the strong-willed clear-headed one where it's like "yes I succumbed ...but NOT because I was too Weak to Resist or out of Fear but because it was my Genius Long Game Plan All Along."

Why does he do this??? I would say like earlier, it was kind of his last card to play in their battle of wills, and allowed him to feel like he had a one-up on Henry after Henry had been smugly putting him down the whole day. I feel the purpose of this is similar to Eleanor's outburst about fucking Henry's father later in the film. Where it really doesn't do anything helpful for her, since he just leaves to do his thing. but in the moment is an emotional weapon that she knows will hurt him. Also there's something fun and cathartic about both Philip and Eleanor's outbursts where after a long day of conniving they really relish in talking about Being Bad in a more straightforward way. For Philip it does end up being helpful in that it sets the ball rolling to reveal all the sonbetrayals in the room and gets the feelings all heightened and sows distrust amongst the family.

Also, to get a bit more speculative, but still basing strictly off what is in the earlier scenes: in the end we don't know the truth of what happened between him and Richard in the forest during the event that he recounted, or what his true feelings are. I personally feel what is implied from his earlier interactions with Richard is that there was a sincere emotional connection, and that they did both miss each other during their time apart. There's implied also a little frustration on Philip's part over Richard not keeping contact and maintaining their friendship after the marriage. But also I sort of interpret it as he wanted to reframe the story in his mind as well, maybe to himself, in a way where he comes out of it feeling like he had control over the situation, especially if their encounters were really as dubiously consensual as he implies it as being. If he did love Richard at some point, that would mean he was the one being "weak" like his father, and so to be strong and be a man and respected ruler ("No man's boy" as he keeps Insisting Very Hard in public the whole movie), he can't afford to indulge in affection the same way. The sexual element just adds another layer that, viewing both from the medieval and 1960s homophobia POV, is already assumed to be deviant and something to distance one's self from. If having the affair with Richard was only A Genius Plan to Sabotage Henry all along, with only Disgust and No Real Feelings of Affection Ever, then he can manage to wiggle out of being implicated or having any responsibility for Sodomybehaviors while pinning all the shame onto Richard (and by extension, Henry.)

So the motivation I can see as being a mix of being mad at the history of Henry overpowering his father and belittling him, being conflicted with Richard for either 1) taking advantage of him back then or 2) having had maybe for real a pleasant affair but getting ghosted 3) most likely a mix of the two. Whatever the case, his main goal was to destabilize Henry and it fit into that goal, so he just poured some extra oil on the fire I guess XD

*in some ways, it's a very 60s homophobia more than a medieval kind, since I feel in early and medieval era there's nothing that would feel off about intense emotional, borderline romantic love between men if expressed in specific socially approved venues. but in modern times even emotional affection is an expression of weakness and timidity, or if a sign of a separate lesser identity being revealed, as how it is portrayed in this movie. The sexual element as deviant is important to the luridity but the part Philip emphasizes as particularly shameful is the vulnerability of asking for love from a man and wanting it returned.

a king like you has policy prepared on everything. well, what’s the official line on sodomy? how stands the crown on boys who do with boys?

THE LION IN WINTER 1968 | dir. anthony harvey

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! I keep rereading the overprotective poly marauders fic I love it sm 🫶 can I please request another one it can tie into casual dominance marauders if you want I don’t mind I just can’t get them off my mind. Thanks babe!!

Hi lovely!! So this went a bit off the rails, I had different intentions for it at first but then somehow it became very serious and the boys not so much overprotective as reasonably upset....all in all, I'm not super happy with it but I didn't want to throw it out, I'd be happy to write another overprotective one for you if you'd like!

cw: sexual assault

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You walk out of your office feeling odd and off-kilter. Your mind seems addled, unable to complete one thought before jumping to the next, and something prickles just underneath your skin that feels like anger and shame and also like panic. 

Your boyfriends are waiting for you, idling at the curb. You’re supposed to go straight from here to the cinema, and you tell yourself you’ll feel better afterwards. Even if not, you have until Monday before you have to deal with this, if you deal with it at all. You may not. You’re not sure. You can’t think straight. 

“Hey, angel,” James says as you get in, and it’s immediately obvious your upset has already been noticed. Probably as soon as you walked outside, your boyfriends observing you through the car windows. Remus, in the driver’s seat, and Sirius, sitting beside you in the back, are both charily silent. “How was work?” 

“It was fine,” you reply. Your voice sounds off even to your own ears, but no one comments as Remus puts the car in drive. 

“Ready for the weekend?” James imbues his voice with a light sort of commiseration. You try to smile for him. 

No one is more surprised than you when a sob chokes you instead. You hide your face in your hands, tears already leaking out from between your lashes. 

“God, sorry.” 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sirius asks, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for you.

Remus pulls into a parking spot just by the exit and shuts off the engine, turning around in his seat.

“Baby.” Sirius wraps his arm around your shaking shoulders, squeezing tight. He sounds anxious. “Did something happen?” 

The worst of your crying passes like a summer storm, over as quickly as it started. Your emotions gone haywire. You lean into Sirius, and he clicks the buckle on your seatbelt for you, pulling you the rest of the way. 

“You’re scaring me,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline. “Tell us why you’re upset, angel, please.” 

“I think,” you mumble, face and eyes burning, “my boss grabbed my butt.” 

You say it quieter than a whisper, but you know they’ve all heard. The silence that follows is so complete you could hear a pin drop. 

“What?” James asks. His throat sounds dry. 

You hear Remus sigh. “Oh, sweetheart.” The vinyl of his seat squeaks as he shifts. “When did this happen?” 

“Just now,” you answer. 

“Right.” Sirius’ arms had gone tense around you, but now they fall away completely. He moves for his door. “I’ll be back.” 

“Don’t,” you plead. You worry he will anyway, but Remus locks the doors from the front seat. 

Sirius cuts a glare his way, truly scary with the way wrath seems to gleam in his gray irises. He unlocks his door manually, and Remus locks it again. 

“We can’t be rash,” he says, his own tone sharper than you think is intended for anyone in the car. “We have to think this through.” 

“What’s there to think about?” Sirius snaps. James reaches behind his seat, taking your hand and rubbing comfortingly. “He’s just inside!” 

“You think I don’t want to go in there too?” Remus gives him a look that’s a short fall from incredulous. “But if we have to call the police, it won’t help if you’ve already had a go at him.” 

Your head spins. You hadn’t even thought of calling the police. You hadn’t really gotten past going to the cinema. 

“What do you mean, you think he grabbed you, sweetheart?” James' voice is pointedly kinder than the others. Remus takes a deep breath, calming himself. 

“I don’t know. I just—I feel like I can’t be sure—” 

“That’s alright.” Remus' voice is slower now. Soothing. “Why don’t you tell us how it happened?” 

“I, um.” You swallow. James strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “I was looking at something on his computer, because he said he wasn’t getting my emails and I thought they might be going to his spam. He was sitting behind me in his chair, and we were talking and his hand, like, squeezed—” you shudder, your brain trying to shake off the memory “—and then he just kept talking like nothing happened. It was so fast I’m not sure it even did—” 

“Baby.” 

You don’t realize you’re tripping over your words until Sirius’ voice cuts through them. You look at him, and his eyes are already on yours, fierce but solid. 

“Did you feel him touch you?” he asks. 

You rub your lips together. “Yeah,” you murmur. 

Your boyfriend’s expression pinches, but his gaze is steady. “Then he did. Trust yourself. You know what happened.” 

This provokes another wave of tears, less tempestuous than the first but somehow more painful. You wouldn't have expected any one of your boyfriends to blame you, not if you’d thought about it, but you haven’t had time to think yet and the relief that they’re so wholly on your side makes your heart feel cracked open. 

“Dove, I’m so sorry,” Remus says. He’s frowning, a well-worn line etched between his brows. You hate to put it there. “What do you want to do? Do you know if you can contact HR?” 

“I don’t know,” you admit, pliable to Sirius’ ministrations as he tucks you securely under one arm and uses the other to thumb at your salty cheeks. “I feel a bit silly. It was a small thing, I don’t think it’s worth a bunch of fuss.” 

“It’s not a small thing,” says James, uncharacteristically severe. “It’s a big thing—a really fucked up thing, that he did—and it’s worth a lot of fuss. A lot.” He leans around his seatback, pressing a firm kiss to your hand. “It’s just a matter of how much fuss you’re willing to go through with, sweetheart. It’s up to you. We can go through HR, we can go to the police. There’s still the option of just going in there and roughing him up to be sure it doesn’t happen again.” He smiles wryly. It looks like it takes effort. “I’m very game for that option. We know Sirius is ready.” 

Sirius makes an affirming humph sound against the side of your head. You try to smile back at James. 

“I think maybe…HR?” Your voice is tentative. “I have a friend, Marcella, who I think would be nice about it.” You realize as it comes out of your mouth what a low bar that is, but that’s the reality of your situation. 

“Do you know if she’s still here?” Remus asks. 

You feel your brow wrinkle. “I think so…” 

Remus unlocks the doors, and James gets out. You barely manage to squeak out a “Wait” before the door shuts behind him. 

You turn to Remus. “Where’s he going?” 

“To find Marcella,” he says. “It’s better that they know when it’s just happened, dovey, but you don’t have to deal with it right now. That’s why James is going instead.” 

You nod. It makes sense, even if the reality of it all makes tears press at your throat again. 

“My sweet girl.” Sirius holds you tight, mashing a kiss into the side of your head. “I’m so sorry this happened, baby. I’m sorry we weren’t there to protect you.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you murmur, turning in his arms to hug him properly. He seems pleased with this development, and squeezes you ferociously. “You can’t always be with me. And it’s not your responsibility.” 

“Careful what you say.” Sirius seems to muster up some humor, a teasing edge to his tone. “I’ll get us one of those big shirts so the four of us can fit in it together, and then you’ll never be rid of us.” 

“It’s our job to look after you,” says Remus, firm but kind. “It’s true we can’t be with you all of the time, but I’m glad you felt comfortable telling us this. Thank you, sweetheart.” 

You’re about to dismiss his thanks when James gets back in the car, this time in the back seat instead of the front. 

“Did you see him?” Sirius asks immediately, scooching the both of you over to make room. 

“No, he must’ve left right after her.” James looks unhappy, but his touch is gentle as always as he takes your waist in both hands, easing you off of Sirius’ lap and into the seat between them. Sirius sighs but doesn’t complain, likely knowing he’s had more than his fair share of your comfort. 

“Marcella was nice, though,” James says. “She arranged for you to have the morning off on Monday, and she’ll call you then to hear from you what happened. We can be with you, if you like.” 

“Monday.” You blow out a slow breath, though it doesn’t do much to keep your throat from contracting in panic. “Okay, that sounds good. Thank you.” 

“No worries, angel.” James rubs your thigh, watching you carefully. “You doing okay?” 

“Yeah, sorry.” Your voice squeaks, and you cover your eyes with a hand. Sirius whines and kisses your shoulder. You try to laugh, but it comes out wet. “I think this might just keep happening for a while.” 

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Remus coos, reaching out a hand to set on the top of your head. He scratches at your scalp with his fingernails the way he knows you like. “It makes sense to be upset. We’ll get you through this, alright? Let us look after you for a bit.” 

[brainwormcity]

I've seen people remark on how awkward the 1967 scene is and that is so frustrating because, for me, it is one of the most emotionally resonant flashbacks in the entire series. It is so multifaceted and ripe with implication and that assertion is baffling. As though just because this conversation appears to be hard for them, it must mean that there has to be some sense of weirdness or awkwardness between them?

This scene feeds heavily into my theory that 1941 ended in some sort of aborted romantic moment between the two, most likely initiated by Crowley. Aziraphale can barely stand to look at Crowley because the very first moment he looks him in the face, he can't stop himself from giving him this hooded eyes, barely contained look of longing.

The next thing we see is Aziraphale immediately launching into a statement about his fear for Crowley's existence that is as brutally sincere as it is heartrending. His eyes are wide, his voice is heavy with emotion, and it's clear that he is terrified beyond belief to lose Crowley. Even as he acquiesces and gives him the holy water, you can see that he wants to take it back and deny him it all over again.

Then, of course, Crowley asks if he can give him a lift, which is definitely something that they both know is a totally different question than what lies on the surface, given that they're mere feet from the bookshop and at first Crowley frowns so deeply that it's almost cartoonish but a moment after Aziraphale turns him down you get this glimpse of very real sadness:

Aziraphale sees it for what it is and in an attempt to comfort him, without being able to do what currently seems impossible to him, shares a fanciful but resigned fantasy about spending time together unbothered and unrestrained, all to the tune of these tight little, loving smiles:

When he asks again, you can just see Crowley's desperation for Aziraphale not to go. It's hard to say how long they'd been apart, but it's safe to say that for them, that previous interaction likely is very fresh in their minds.

Aziraphale has always been more fearful than Crowley when it comes to their feelings for each other. You could even potentially look at the holy water as a metaphor for their relationship. In his expressions of concern about The Arrangement, Aziraphale has always been remarking on how Crowley could be destroyed, similarly to his words here. So when he's telling him, "You go too fast for me, Crowley," what he's really saying is, "I'm terribly afraid and I'm not ready to take that step if it means that I could lose you." And it's plain to see by the wistful look on his face that it pains him greatly to say it:

The scene so quickly cuts to Crowley looking intensely at the holy water after Aziraphale has left the car (as if trying to convince you that that was the real point of the scene) that it's easy to miss this devastated expression on Crowley's face:

There's no look of perceived rejection on his face. Just a somber look of resignation. There are so many barriers in front of them, and I think that Crowley was willing to risk it but understood that Aziraphale wasn't ready to.

This is the most honest and laid bare we ever see these two be when it comes to their emotions. There's so much being said without being said and even their actual words (i.e. Crowley remembering exactly the amount of time when the 'fraternizing' conversation happened) are so full of emotion that it might even be a bit hard for some people to watch.

It's not awkward. It's just that the scene is just so incredibly earnest and heavy with coded language that it's easy to be swept up by the fact that the two aren't engaged in their typical banter and bickering. What we truly have here is an incredibly difficult and loving conversation between two people who are stuck in a seemingly impossible situation.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 3

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 2 | Series Masterlist | Part 4

Chapter Summary: The date is just beginning, but you're not sure if you can keep it together.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, stalking, coercion, threats (not against reader), creepy and unhinged behavior, possessiveness, manipulation, mental and emotional whiplash, reader is trying to stay calm, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies enjoy and thank you again for the feedback so far! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You took a deep breath and another, but it didn’t stop your heart from picking up in your chest. It was a feat that your legs didn’t give out. Your throat felt rough and raw, except you hadn’t screamed. You hadn’t made a sound. Not until Bucky moved toward you, pulling a whimper from you.

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” he said, cupping your face with a smile. You wanted to believe there was a warmth behind it or that he had a voice in his head telling him that this wasn’t right. That none of this was right. “Don’t you like them?”

“The flowers. The guy who bought them…” you swallowed, wondering exactly who he was and how he was associated with Bucky. Did Bucky know him well or was he a stranger? Did he bribe him into going into his shop?

“Oh, he’s fine,” Bucky assured you, which didn’t make you feel any better. “Loved the tulips you helped pick out for him. I know his girl will be very happy to get them, too.”

The citrus and woodsy combination of Bucky’s cologne filled your nostrils as you took another deep breath. You expected to stumble back when he suddenly crouched down, but you didn’t budge an inch. Once again, you were frozen in fear. Why couldn’t you move? You told yourself he wouldn’t hurt you. Why bother dragging you all the way to his place for that when he could’ve done so in your home?

Or, apparently, your place of work.

“Why don’t we have some of that wine after I show you around?” He asked, retrieving the clutch you dropped.

“Do you really expect me to just sit and have a drink with you?”

“Not just a drink,” he said, slowly standing and reminding you just how large he was. “Dinner. Dessert.”

“Where’s the bathroom?” You asked.

He nodded over your shoulders. “There’s one right behind you.”

You turned and went into the bathroom, careful not to lock the door behind you as much as you wanted to. He may have broken down the door if you tried. You gripped the sink as you struggled to take your next breath, blood rushing in your ears as you looked at your reflection. A voice in the back of your mind whispered to stay calm when tears threatened to spill over for the second time that evening.

Could you though? Could you play along and get through this night without having some sort of breakdown? You had to try.

Your attention was pulled away by the soft knock on the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Would you care if I wasn't?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

The door opened a heartbeat later, but you didn't dare meet his gaze in the mirror as he approached. Not even as he pressed himself against your back, your body trapped between his and the sink. It was suffocating. He brought a hand up to lift your chin, forcing your eyes to lock with his. The light above the mirror put a spotlight on the intensity of his gaze as his lips brushed your ear.

“I care more than you think,” he whispered, turning you to face him. His fingers traced the column of your neck before he let go. “In time, I know you’ll see that.”

You fought the urge to laugh as he led you back into the entryway. If he cared, he would’ve gone about this whole thing differently. You focused your attention instead on the penthouse, taking in more of the decor as he showed you around. As immaculate as the place looked, it lacked a personal touch. Where were the photos? Trinkets?

“What do you think?”

“It’s a beautiful place,” you answered. And it was beautiful, but it didn't feel like a home or lived in like your place.

“A bit spacious for just me,” he said, glancing at you. Was it his roundabout way of stating again how he expected you to move in?

“Yeah, it’s a lot for one person, but it’s still nice.”

He nodded in agreement. “The couch is comfortable if you ever want to take a nap,” he said, an almost knowing look in his eyes as you stopped at the living room. Jesus, did he know you slept on your couch last night? “Though I’d prefer you sleep in our bed.”

“Our” bed. Not subtle at all. “I know you said this would be my place one day, too, but maybe we should get well past the first date before we talk about sharing a bed,” you said, sarcastically adding, “I hog the blankets, so I hope you're prepared for that.”

He chuckled and you wished you didn't like the pleasant sound. “You can have as many blankets as you want. And I had every intention of showing you the master bedroom tonight, but I think I’ll wait.”

“Really?” You asked, hoping you didn't sound too eager to avoid seeing it. Was there a catch?

“Really,” he said, pulling you close by the hips. Through his clothes, you felt how firm he was. There was strength there you couldn't match. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. And when I take you to bed, I’m going to ruin you. That's a promise.”

A shuddering breath left your lungs as he leaned in, his lips skimming yours.

“But I’m not the monster you think I am, which is why I’m going to wait,” he whispered.

It was a relief that Bucky wasn't going to take you to bed. Not tonight, at least. At the same time, what exactly was he waiting for? He made it clear that he wanted you and wasn't going to let go. What game was he playing?

Thinking about it was enough to drive you mad.

“And you won't hurt me?” You questioned. You had to hear him say it.

“I’d never hurt you,” he promised, pulling away at the two knocks on the front door.

He wouldn't hurt you, but what about other people?

“Chef’s here, boss,” the guard’s voice rang out.

“Perfect timing,” Bucky smiled.

He kept a hand on you as he guided you to the kitchen, the guard and who you assumed to be the chef entering seconds later. “Mr. Barnes, so good to see you.”

“You as well,” Bucky replied, his demeanor professional and somewhat colder.

Your eyes went back to the guard as Bucky chatted with the chef. He seemed to avoid your gaze, keeping his eye instead on the two men speaking. Did he know the circumstances that brought you here? Would he care if he did?

“You’re sure this is what you’d like, Mr. Barnes? This is a relatively simple meal,” the chef scoffed, making a show of gesturing to the ingredients. It dawned on you as you looked at them that he was going to prepare one of your favorite meals. Your stomach dropped, but you kept quiet. Of course, Bucky knew.

And of course, it wasn't sophisticated.

Bucky’s jaw twitched as if he sensed your embarrassment. The guard didn't look impressed by the chef’s comment either. “It’s her favorite. Are you insulting my girl’s taste?” he spoke, making you shiver from the ice in his tone.

“No, Mr. Barnes. Of course not! I meant no disrespect.” The chef shook his head, meeting your gaze with a shaky smile. “To be simple is to be great.”

“That’s right. Simplicity is also to be respected,” Bucky said, pointing a gloved finger at him. “And with your reputation, it better be the best meal she has ever had. I’d hate to see what happens if she doesn’t like it.”

“It’s fine,” you whispered. It was better to focus on easing the situation instead of yet another reminder that he knew another intimate detail about you. That and you felt bad as the man behind the counter began to sweat. “I’m sure the meal will be delicious. Thank you for taking the time to come here and prepare it.”

The tension dissipated as Bucky softly smiled at you, a crisis averted for the time being. “We’re going to enjoy our wine on the balcony while he prepares our meal,” he told the guard. “Keep an eye on him.”

“Will do.”

Bucky took you away from the kitchen before the chef could speak another word to you. Fresh air might help you breathe easier. He opened the glass door, the night breeze making you shiver as you stepped outside. The view of the city stretched on and the moon and stars lit up the sky. It was breathtaking.

You jumped when Bucky put his jacket around your shoulders. The romantic gesture felt like a claim. “I hope his comment didn't upset you. If it did-”

“It’s fine. Really,” you assured him, glancing at the two-seater table as he pulled out a chair for you. Two glasses were set out as well, along with what you knew to be an expensive bottle of wine. “This is gorgeous.”

“It is,” he agreed, your cheeks flaming when you saw him looking at you instead of the view.

“Do you spend a lot of time out here?” You asked.

He popped the cork on the bottle and poured each of you a small amount. You almost thanked him for that. You had to keep your wits about you.

“Not as much as I’d like to,” he said, nodding to a small sofa in the corner as he took a seat. “But I do like to read out here.”

“You read in your free time?” You asked, biting back a moan when you sipped the wine.

His eyes lit up and just as quickly darkened when you licked your lips. “I do. Reading has always been a hobby of mine. I even have first editions of some of my favorite books.”

“That’s really nice,” you smiled. For a moment it felt like the two of you were having a normal conversation.

That good feeling went away when he took out a velvet box.

“Can’t forget about the surprise,” he smiled before he handed it over. It looked too long to be a ring box, thankfully, but it wouldn't have surprised you if there was an engagement ring inside. Which was likely why your hand shook as you opened it.

The diamond pendant was stunning enough to make you gasp. Five stones each a different shape, they sparkled under the moonlight. The kind of necklace you could only dream of having.

“Bucky, I’m sorry.” You shut the box and slid it back across the table toward him. “I can’t accept this.”

His gaze flickered to the box before he looked at you again. You wanted to believe he looked concerned, but he hadn’t exactly taken any of your feelings into consideration so far. “Why not? We can pick out another together if you’d rather have something else.”

“I can’t accept it because it’s too much,” you said. Accepting the gift would make the situation more real.

He chuckled after a moment. “No, it isn't. Nothing would ever be too much for me to give to you.”

You reached across to tap the top of the box. “Bucky, this is the kind of gift that you give to your wife or fiancé or girlfriend. Hell, maybe a mistress or a sugar baby. I’m none of those things.” Something flickered in his gaze and that should’ve been your warning to stop, but you kept going anyway. “I’m not your girl.”

He took your hand before you could pull it away, his jaw clenched. “You’re right about one thing. You’re not my mistress or a sugar baby,” he agreed. “You could never be those things because you are the only one I see.”

But why? It didn’t make any sense to you. “But-”

“Girlfriend, fiancé, wife,” he ticked off with the fingers of his free hand. “We'll get to all those phases of our relationship, so you might as well accept this gift now or you'll be accepting much more than this later.”

You swallowed, but didn’t attempt to pull away. His grip didn’t hurt and you didn’t know exactly what he was implying, but you didn’t want to find out tonight. Not when he promised he wouldn’t drag you off to his room. “Thank you for the wonderful gift.”

He smiled and took the box as he stood. You didn't protest as he moved to put the necklace around your neck nor did you flinch when his fingers moved along on your skin. When he sat back down, he sighed and lovingly looked you over. “It's beautiful. Just like I knew it would be on you."

You touched it after a moment, the feel of his fingertips still lingering. “I didn't expect something so nice for a first date.”

“This is only the beginning.” He tilted his head and let his eyes watch you trace the delicate gems. “You deserve so much more.”

“Is this some elaborate joke?” You scoffed a bit. He sounded so sure of himself, that he believed you deserved the world. But why? “You do realize that I'm just a florist. And I don't say that to belittle my career because I love what I do, but I'm nothing special.”

Sadness took over his eyes. “Why would you say that?”

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have with the stranger who broke into your home. You didn’t want to have any sort of conversation tonight. “Because I don't own the flower shop I work at. I'm not rich. Hell, I lived with a roommate until last year just to save up and afford my own place. You should know since you researched me,” you said without a trace of bitterness. “I’m not a party girl. I don't turn heads wherever I go. I just want to work with my flowers, go home, and live a simple little life.”

His eyes followed the motion of you biting your lip again before he shook his head. “You think being rich and owning a business are the things it takes to make someone special?”

“No, I don't think that.”

“Then what does?”

You looked around the balcony with a sigh before meeting his gaze again. “Who a person is makes them special.”

“Yet everything you stated has nothing to do with who you are. So I’ll ask again, why would you say you're nothing special?”

You didn't know how to respond. You thought he would’ve just dropped the conversation, so you looked into your lap with a shake of your head. If you were special, wouldn’t you have found someone by now the way Addision and your other friends had? You didn’t want to pour out your insecurities, even if he seemed to hold an invisible knife and was ready to cut them open. “I don't know. I just know I’m not.”

He hummed a little. “So, would someone who is nothing special make homemade meals for her neighbor because she recently had a baby and probably wouldn't have time to cook for herself?”

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly hurt yourself. “How-”

“And not only are you in Addison's wedding party, you offered to have her flowers done so she could have more money for her honeymoon. You're telling me that being caring and thoughtful doesn’t make a person special?”

Goosebumps raised on your skin, realizing just how thorough he was in his research of you. “How do you know all of that about me?” Tears sprang to your eyes and you blinked them back. “I didn't tell anyone about my neighbor or the flowers.”

He cracked a small smile. “That's one of the things that makes you special. You don't do those things expecting anything in return and you sure as hell don't do it to brag. You do them because you care.” He took a second to lean back in his seat, his eyes still on you. “When I see something I want, I give it my all. And I'm not afraid to use my resources. I told you, I like to be thorough.”

You giggled. A hysterical sort of giggle. One that scared you because you had never laughed like that. “I don't know if I can do this,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I shouldn't be here. I should be getting a restraining order.”

Bucky didn't look offended in the slightest. “You could try. Do you think it’ll stop me?”

What little resolve you had left snapped. “Oh, my god. Do you hear yourself? I mean, really hear yourself?!” You snapped, tempted to throw the remainder of your wine on him when he didn’t react. “You know what a first date is, right? It’s two people trying to get to know each other and to see if there’s a mutual connection. You didn’t give me a chance to form a connection with you because you decided it for me after you stalked me.”

His brows pinched like you hurt his feelings. “Doll-”

“You know ‘everything’ about me, but what do I know about you, huh?” You continued, your anxiety bubbling over. “I know that you own a club and that you break into homes and scare the shit out of people. Oh, and that you read. And you apparently have the world at your fingertips since you can send people into my place of work and find out details about me that most aren’t privy to. You could probably use those resources of yours for good or to help others, but you used them to dig into my life when I didn't ask you to!”

“Some people do research before a first date,” he pointed out, not raising his voice.

“Not a full background check! I’m not an employee of yours and I’m not a toy for you to play with!” You huffed as you sat back, suddenly exhausted. How was he unphased? “You really think you have a say in my future? Are you that much of a control freak that you think you can control me?”

The silence stretched on as Bucky considered you and your body trembled as he idly sipped his wine. You weren’t the type to snap and you suddenly felt the urge to apologize for your outburst, which wasn’t fair. He put you in this situation, so why did you want to make it better?

Because you didn’t know what he would do.

“I’m not trying to control you,” he stated, handing you a handkerchief.

“It feels like you are and that isn’t fair,” you said, dabbing at your eyes. Life wasn’t exactly fair though, was it? “And for the record, the only reason I’m not tossing this wine on you is because it’s delicious and it would be a waste.”

His nose scrunched as he laughed. “I wish you could’ve met my mom. She would’ve loved you,” he said so softly you almost missed it, the change in topic jarring to say the least. What happened to her? “I’ve tried traditional dating. It doesn’t and hasn’t worked for me so far. The last woman I dated? She tried to rob me, if you can believe that.”

You sighed, still a bit worn out from your rant. “I can,” you said. There were greedy people in the world and he seemed to have more than enough to provide others with a comfortable life. It wasn’t right that someone tried to take what he earned.

It also wasn’t right what he was doing to you.

“In my line of work, everyone wants something from me. Money, power, favors. It’s hard to trust people,” he said, his gaze surprisingly soft as he took your hand again. “But not you.”

“Because that’s not the kind of person I am,” you guessed.

You were in many ways the opposite of him. While you weren’t poor, you certainly weren’t rich or powerful and didn’t want to use people for your gain. Perhaps that was why he wanted you so badly. You were someone who didn’t want anything from him. Someone like you was easy for him to control since you didn’t run in that kind of circle, even if he said he wasn’t trying to.

Maybe you should have put up a fight instead of making yourself an easy target.

Wait, why were you blaming yourself?

“I know it isn’t,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze. “So, maybe I’m a control freak and maybe my approach is a bit extreme, but I don't want to control you. I like who you are, doll. You’re loyal and caring and real. The kind of person I want and need.”

You took a sip of wine so you didn't have to respond. He needed you, so he said, but did you need him? And why did his praise warm your insides? You didn't want it to feel nice.

“And maybe I like that you aren’t the kind of person who has a hidden agenda and that you aren’t a party girl. Even you snapping at me. I love that fire. I want more of it. Burn me with it if you want,” he continued, sweeping his gaze over you once again. “Fuck, I can’t take my eyes off you. And I can't stop thinking about you.”

The look in his eyes put you on edge. “But we-”

“You’re good for me and you may not believe I’m good for you, but I am. We’re right for each other,” he said. The fierce determination in his gaze almost had you believing it. “And aren’t you tired of being lonely? I know I am.”

Loneliness could eat away at a person. Drive them to do desperate things. It didn't excuse his actions.

“Lonely or not, you can't force us to be together,” you said.

“I’m not forcing us to be together. You chose to be here tonight.”

“You know why I came here,” you argued. He had to know you did this because of his threat. “And I’ll behave or do whatever I need to do for the rest of the night, but I can't promise anything beyond that.”

Instead of anger like you expected, he smiled. Like a wolf flashing his teeth before sinking into its prey. “That’s okay because I have a promise for you,” he began, the flame dancing in his eyes. “You’ll be out of your apartment before the end of the month.”

The balcony door opening covered up the wheeze you let out, but didn't hide the despair written all over your face. He couldn't be serious. “Dinner’s ready,” the guard stated.

Bucky didn't spare him a glance as he stood and kept your hand in his, your appetite gone as his smile widened. “C’mon, doll. Better not let it get cold.”

Ooh. Will he really have you out of your place that soon? How awkward will that meal be? And who do we think this guard is? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[mononijikayu]

right people, wrong place — nanami kento.

“And what about us? Was I something you could just walk away from?” The question hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his gaze���regret, maybe—but it vanished just as quickly. “I never wanted to hurt you, you know that.” he said quietly, almost like an admission of guilt. “But this was always going to be the cost.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!

WARNING/S: romance, fluff, angst, marriage separation, salvaging the marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, car-fuck, making out, smut, fingering, p to v sex, orgasm, hurt/comfort, alcohol, crying, drunk, emotional, pining, happy ending, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, depiction of breakdown of a marriage, depiction of alcoholic beverages, depiction of getting drunk, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of sexual tension, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, sorcerer! nanami, non-sorcerer! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7.7k words.

NOTE: finally!!! im putting out this chapter on my birthday which is crazy but i feel like putting it out on my birthday shows how much i really love nanami. i really wondered a lot how to do this because i don't think nanami's the sort of person who would end up hurting his lover/partner like this. but hm, i suppose it works out in the end!!! anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this a lot like i did!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kinktober 2024 - kayu's version

if you want to, tip! <3

══════════════════

IN YOUR YEARS LIVING, YOU’D NEVER THOUGHT THIS WOULD HAPPEN. You never thought you would find yourself in this position, but sometimes marriages just don't last. It’s been a while since your husband, Nanami Kento, and you became estranged. His constant absence, wrapped up in his work as a sorcerer, eventually took precedence over your marriage. 

At first, you understood, even tried to be patient. But over time, the long hours, missed moments, and growing distance became too much to bear. You found yourself frustrated, feeling as though you were competing with a world you couldn’t fully understand or be a part of.

Slowly, that frustration turned into resentment. Despite your efforts to keep things together, the silence between you grew louder. Eventually, the separation felt inevitable. Now, standing on the other side of it, you reflect on the painful truth: sometimes love isn't enough when life pulls you in different directions.

You sighed, staring at the empty side of the bed where Kento used to sleep. The memories of better days flickered in your mind, but they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else’s life. The silence of your apartment was deafening, broken only by the occasional sound of the outside world. 

“Did you ever regret it?” you whispered, almost as if speaking to the ghost of your past, hoping for an answer you knew wouldn’t come. “Did you ever think… maybe I was worth staying for?”

You shook your head, frustrated with yourself for even asking the question. It wasn’t fair to him. You knew how much responsibility weighed on Kento's shoulders. Being a sorcerer wasn’t just a job; it was a duty. But sometimes, you wished he would have chosen you, just once, over the weight of the world.

Your minds rushed to those memories again. That night when he left the house. You looked as he packed everything he could carry. His clothes, his books… small pieces of a life you once shared now reduced to what he could fit into a suitcase. The silence between you stretched, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air, almost suffocating.

“Is this really it, then?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a question that had hung in the back of your mind for months, but now, with him standing here, packing the last remnants of your life together, it felt real. Permanent.

Kento paused, his hand resting on one of his neatly folded shirts. He didn’t look at you when he spoke. “I don’t know.”

“That’s all you can say? After so many years?.....Kento....this is…” you replied, your voice cracking despite your best effort to keep it steady. “Not even a reason?”

His shoulders tensed at your words, but he still didn’t turn around. “If I say something, it would be a fight and then that fight would hurt you and I again. Do you really want that?”

“No, I don’t.” you shot back, the frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface. “But maybe it should. Because then I would know if it actually mattered. Because it didn’t feel like it mattered, Kento. It felt like I was always second place to your work, to the missions, to everything else.”

He finally turned to face you, his expression unreadable but the exhaustion in his eyes undeniable. “I never wanted it to be like this. But you knew what I was from the beginning. Being a sorcerer… it’s not something you can just walk away from.”

“And what about us? Was I something you could just walk away from?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his gaze—regret, maybe—but it vanished just as quickly.

“I never wanted to hurt you, you know that.” he said quietly, almost like an admission of guilt. “But this was always going to be the cost.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound harsh even to your own ears. “So that’s it? We were just collateral damage to your sense of duty?”

Kento didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed the suitcase with a soft click, the finality of it settling like a stone in your chest. “I thought I could do both. I thought I could be there for you and still do what needed to be done. But I was wrong.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You stared at him, waiting for something more—an apology, a plea, anything. But all you got was that same calm, distant resolve that had driven you apart in the first place.

He picked up the suitcase, his fingers tightening around the handle. “Goodbye.”

And just like that, he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him, and the emptiness of the apartment swallowed you whole. You stood there, staring at the spot where he had been, feeling the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. It was over.

But somehow, it still didn’t feel like closure.

══════════════════

EVERYTHING THAT CAME AFTER WAS HARD. In the days that followed, the silence in your apartment became both a comfort and a curse. It was quiet—almost too quiet—but for the first time in what felt like forever, the suffocating weight of uncertainty was gone.

Kento was gone, too. But in a way, that absence, painful as it was, felt like a step toward something else. Healing, maybe. And it didn’t help, how empty the rooms were. Half of his belongings were gone and packed up when you weren’t in the apartment.

It was slow at first. You’d wake up some mornings expecting him to be there, just a shadow of his presence lingering in the air. You’d make coffee for two out of habit, only to pour the second cup down the sink. Little reminders of him still clung to the edges of your life, and each one was like a small tug at the thread of your resolve.

But as the weeks turned into months, you started to piece yourself back together. You learned how to be alone without feeling lonely, how to fill the spaces he left behind with your own life. You started to find joy in the little things again—quiet mornings with a book, walks in the park, laughing with friends who had long been neglected while you tried to hold onto something that was already slipping away.

Still, there were moments, late at night when the world went still, that the ache of missing him crept back in. It was like a dull, persistent pain—manageable, but never quite gone. You’d find yourself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what he was doing, if he was thinking of you, too. If he ever would come back and say that he regrets walking away.

Because the truth was, you still loved him. Deeply. And that was the hardest part. No matter how much you tried to move forward, to heal, the love you had for Nanami Kento never fully disappeared. It lingered, bittersweet and aching, tucked into the corners of your heart.

Some nights, you found yourself replaying those last moments with him—the way he stood in the doorway, his back turned to you, the finality of his goodbye. You couldn’t help but wonder if things could have been different. If you had fought harder, if he had tried just a little more. But those thoughts always led to the same conclusion: no matter how much you loved him, love wasn’t enough to fix what had broken between you.

And yet, despite everything, there was still a part of you that wanted him back. It was foolish, you knew that. But the heart rarely listens to reason. You missed the way he made you feel safe, even when everything else in your world felt uncertain. You missed the way he’d brush his fingers through your hair absentmindedly while reading or the quiet moments where words weren’t needed because you both just… understood.

But loving him came with a cost, one you couldn’t ignore. You knew that being with him meant sharing him with a world that constantly demanded more of him than you could ever give. It meant always being second place, always waiting for him to come home, always wondering if this time would be the last.

You weren’t sure if you could live like that again.

It was hard, knowing that despite how much better you were feeling, the part of you that still longed for him wasn’t ready to let go. You tried to distract yourself—work, hobbies, anything to keep your mind from drifting back to him. But every now and then, you’d catch a glimpse of something that reminded you of him—a certain tie in a shop window, a scent in the air—and the pang of longing would hit you all over again.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you found yourself standing at the edge of your balcony, staring out at the sunset. The sky was painted in hues of gold and pink, the world so quiet and still that it almost felt like a dream. For a brief moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like if he were here beside you. If, somehow, you could make it work. If the love you had was enough to outweigh everything else.

But as the colors faded and dusk settled in, you realized something—wanting him, loving him, would always be part of you. But so would the pain. And maybe, just maybe, the best thing you could do was let both of those things exist without trying to fix them. To let the love you still had for him be a memory, something you carried with you but didn’t let define you anymore.

It was hard. But you were learning that sometimes, healing isn’t about forgetting the past. It’s about accepting it and finding a way to move forward anyway. Even if part of you will always wish things had been different.

You sighed, staring at the empty side of the bed where Nanami used to sleep. The memories of better days flickered in your mind, but they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else’s life. The silence of your apartment was deafening, broken only by the occasional sound of the outside world.

“Did you ever regret it?” you whispered, almost as if speaking to the ghost of your past, hoping for an answer you knew wouldn’t come. “Did you ever think… maybe I was worth staying for?”

You shook your head, frustrated with yourself for even asking the question. It wasn’t fair to him. You knew how much responsibility weighed on Nanami's shoulders. Being a sorcerer wasn’t just a job; it was a duty. But sometimes, you wished he would have chosen you, just once, over the weight of the world.

The doorbell rang, snapping you out of your thoughts. For a moment, your heart raced—an absurd part of you hoped it was him. But you quickly brushed the thought aside. That chapter was closed. Or so you tried to convince yourself.

When you opened the door, there he stood—Nanami Kento.

“I came to pick up the rest of my things.” he said, his voice low and steady, as if the weight of the words didn't matter. But they did. Every syllable felt like a punch to your chest.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in, though the sight of him in the apartment again felt like a knife twisting in an old wound. He walked past you without another word, heading to what used to be your shared bedroom. It was strange—after all the time that had passed, he still moved like he belonged here, like nothing had changed. But everything had.

You followed him, your footsteps quiet as you watched him start gathering his things. His clothes, his books… small pieces of a life you once shared now reduced to what he could fit into a suitcase. The silence between you stretched, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air, almost suffocating.

“This is it, huh?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a question that had hung in the back of your mind for months, but now, with him standing here, packing the last remnants of your life together, it felt real. Permanent. “Is….is this what’s left?”

Kento paused, his hand resting on one of his neatly folded shirts. He didn’t look at you when he spoke. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Anything, everything.” you replied, your voice cracking despite your best effort to keep it steady. “I just want to know if any of it ever mattered to you.”

His shoulders tensed at your words, but he still didn’t turn around. “You know it did. You matter to me. More than you know.”

“Did I?” you shot back, the frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface. “Because why have I never felt it? When will I feel it?”

He finally turned to face you, his expression unreadable but the exhaustion in his eyes undeniable. “I showed you everything I could. I gave you everything I could. Was that never going to be enough for you?”

“And what about us? Was I something you could just walk away from?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his gaze—regret, maybe—but it vanished just as quickly.Nanami didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed the box with a soft touch, the finality of it settling like a stone in your chest. 

“I thought I could do both. I thought I could be there for you and still do what needed to be done. But I was wrong.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You stared at him, waiting for something more—an apology, a plea, anything. But all you got was that same calm, distant resolve that had driven you apart in the first place.

He picked up the rest of his belongings, his fingers tightening around the handle. “I have to go.”

And just like that, he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him, and the emptiness of the apartment swallowed you whole. You stood there, staring at the spot where he had been, feeling the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. It was over.

But somehow, it still didn’t feel like closure.

══════════════════

YOU DIDN’T EAT MUCH IN THE PAST FEW DAYS. But that was to be expected. You couldn’t eat in the place where you had so many memories. Yet you were feeling unwell as time went on and so slowly, gently, patiently — you tried to be good to yourself. Tried to be understanding. Going through separation, this suffering, it was never going to be easy.

The silence in your apartment became both a comfort and a curse. It was quiet—almost too quiet—but for the first time in what felt like forever, the suffocating weight of uncertainty was gone.

The emptiness felt different now. It wasn't just about loss or absence; it was about space—space to breathe, to think, to feel without the constant dread lurking in every corner. Still, the quiet held an echo of everything you had left behind, and that made moving forward all the more difficult.

But as the weeks turned into months, you started to piece yourself back together. You learned how to be alone without feeling lonely, how to fill the spaces he left behind with your own life.

You started to find joy in the little things again—quiet mornings with a book, walks in the park, laughing with friends who had long been neglected while you tried to hold onto something that was already slipping away.

Still, there were moments, late at night when the world went still and you’re watching television alone by yourself — you could feel that the ache of missing him crept back in.

It was like a dull, persistent pain—manageable, but never quite gone. You’d find yourself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what he was doing, if he was thinking of you, too. If he ever regretted walking away. Or if he missed you just as much as you did.

Because the truth was, you still loved him. Deeply. And that was the hardest part. No matter how much you tried to move forward, to heal, the love you had for Nanami Kento never fully disappeared. It lingered, bittersweet and aching, tucked into the corners of your heart. And perhaps, maybe it will always be like this.

But you had to move on. Life wasn’t going to wait for you to get better, to be better. It demanded that you keep going, even when you weren’t sure how to, even when the ghost of what you had still weighed heavy on your soul.

So, you kept going, step by step. Some days were easier than others, filled with the distractions of work, the warmth of sunlight on your skin, and conversations that pulled you out of your own head. Other days were harder—when memories of him resurfaced without warning, when a familiar scent or an old song hit you with the force of a tidal wave, threatening to drown you in nostalgia.

But you had learned by now how to weather those moments. You’d remind yourself that healing wasn’t linear, that some days you would falter, and that was okay. You had to let yourself feel the sadness, the longing, without letting it consume you.

And in time, you began to see the future more clearly, not just as a continuation of what you lost but as something entirely new. You began to make plans for yourself, not the version of you that existed with him but the person you were becoming on your own. You started to imagine new possibilities—new experiences, new places, and maybe even, eventually, new love.

But for now, it was enough to simply live. To wake up each morning with the quiet acceptance that the pain would fade, slowly, until it was just another part of you, like a scar that healed over time. And though Nanami Kento would always hold a piece of your heart, you knew that piece was no longer all you had. There was more to you, more to your life, and you would find it, one day at a time.

And maybe, tonight was just one of those nights you didn’t plan. Tonight was one more night where you tried to forget. It was just a spontaneous meeting with the friends you made because of your estranged husband.

In a way, you think that Shoko and Utahime, were the only people who had really been there for you throughout this entire mess. You met up at a quiet bar tucked away in a corner of the city, a place that felt far removed from the chaos of sorcery and everything that came with it.

Shoko sat across from you, her usual laid-back demeanor a source of steady comfort, while Utahime leaned in, her voice soft and warm, coaxing you into laughter with her lighthearted banter. The night had started out innocent enough—a few drinks, some stories, and shared frustrations. But as the alcohol flowed, so did your emotions.

“Honestly.” you groaned, swirling your drink before downing it, “I don’t even know what I miss more—him, or the idea of what we could’ve been if his work didn’t always come first.”

Shoko raised her glass, giving you a sympathetic smile. “It’s never easy, is it? Being with someone like him. The duty comes first. Always.”

Utahime nodded, her eyes full of understanding. “But that doesn’t make what you feel any less valid. You loved him. That doesn’t just disappear.”

The alcohol in your system made you bolder, more honest than you’d been in a while. You leaned forward, placing your elbows on the table, and slurred slightly, “It’s not fair, you know? I tried, I really did. But how long am I supposed to wait? How many nights am I supposed to spend alone, wondering if he’s even coming back?”

Shoko reached across the table and squeezed your hand gently. “You’re not supposed to wait forever. You deserve more than that.”

But instead of finding solace in her words, you found yourself feeling more emotional, the weight of everything you’d been holding back finally cracking open under the influence of too much alcohol. A tear slipped down your cheek, and before you could stop it, you were sobbing into your hands, overwhelmed by a mix of heartache and frustration.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry!” Utahime said softly, sliding into the seat beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You’re doing great. This is just… part of the process.”

Shoko, usually so calm and collected, looked a little more concerned than usual. “Okay, I think it’s time to slow down on the drinks, girlie.” she said, gently pulling your glass away from you.

But you were too far gone to care. The mix of pain, regret, and alcohol had you in a place where you didn’t want to think anymore—you just wanted to feel something, anything other than the ache of missing him.

You let out a half-laugh, half-sob and raised your hands in the air dramatically. “I’m a mess! A total mess! And you know what? I miss him. I still miss him even after everything!”

Utahime tried to keep you grounded, but your emotions were all over the place. “We know. We get it. Just breathe.”

Shoko sighed, reaching for her phone. “I think we might need backup here.”

You were too busy giggling uncontrollably to notice her dialing a number, the alcohol buzzing in your veins, making you feel invincible, heartbroken, and foolish all at once.

“I’m calling Nanami.” Shoko said, her voice firm as she stepped away to speak quietly into the phone.

The name hit you like a punch in the chest, and suddenly, the laughter was gone, replaced by a pit of regret. “Wait… Shoko, no. Don’t… don’t call him.” you mumbled, slumping against the table.

But it was too late.

Half an hour later, as the bar started to empty out and the world around you became a blurry haze, you felt a familiar presence. Nanami Kento stood at the entrance, his expression unreadable, though his posture was tense, like he wasn’t sure what to expect. He scanned the room until his eyes landed on you—wild-eyed and completely drunk, your face flushed from crying and too many drinks.

Shoko and Utahime exchanged a glance as Nanami walked over to the table. “She… might’ve had a bit too much tonight, you know?” Utahime said sheepishly, standing up to give him space.

Nanami didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at you—really looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time in months. You could see the subtle flicker of concern in his eyes, even if his face remained calm, composed.

You, on the other hand, were a mess. “Kento….” you slurred, your voice thick with emotion. “Why did you come?”

He crouched down beside you, his voice low but steady. “Shoko called me.”

You frowned, trying to process that. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

For a moment, you both just stared at each other, the air between you heavy with everything left unsaid. You wanted to say so many things—to tell him how much you missed him, how much it hurt to love him, but your thoughts were too muddled, and the alcohol made everything feel distant and surreal.

Nanami sighed softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Let’s get you home.”

Too tired and drunk to argue, you leaned into his touch, letting him guide you out of the bar. As he helped you into the passenger seat of his car, you felt a pang of sadness wash over you. Even in this state, the warmth of his presence made you remember why you had fallen in love with him in the first place.

But as the car started and the city lights blurred by, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all you’d ever be to him now—a fleeting responsibility, a problem to fix.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you glanced over at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you still care, Kento?”

For the first time in a long while, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “Of course I care.” he said quietly, almost like it hurt to admit it. “I always have….I always will.”

But as the darkness of the night pulled you under, you couldn’t help but think that maybe caring just wasn’t enough.

The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine and the distant noise of the city filling the silence between you and Nanami. You leaned your head against the window, feeling the cool glass against your flushed skin, the alcohol still buzzing faintly in your veins. Everything felt muted, distant, as if you were floating just outside yourself, watching the scene unfold from afar.

Nanami’s presence was steady, calm as always, but there was something different about it tonight—something almost tender in the way he glanced over at you every few moments, checking to see if you were okay. He was a man of few words, but the weight of everything left unsaid between you felt heavy in the small space of the car.

You closed your eyes, letting the rhythmic motion of the car lull you into a state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Your thoughts drifted in and out, a hazy mix of memories and half-formed feelings. The pain of your separation, the love you still held for him, the impossible wish that things could’ve been different.

“Do you need anything?” His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, something restrained.

You shook your head, trying to gather your thoughts through the alcohol fog, but the room spun, and you could feel the tears welling up again, unbidden and unwelcome. The frustration, the love, the hurt—all of it crashed over you at once, too heavy to hold in any longer.

“I miss you, Kento.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But I just…..I don’t want to miss you anymore.”

He didn’t respond right away, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid of what you might see in his eyes. Afraid of the truth you already knew—that no matter how much you wanted him, how much you loved him, some things were just too broken to fix. Your face contorted in distress as you felt like you were going to hurl.

Kento stopped the car on a quiet side of the road and took a breath. He moved towards your side of the vehicle. He opened the door and brushed his hands on your back as though to soothe you. But nothing came out of you. Instead, you were just hiccupping. Tears were falling down your face by this point, as your eyes met his.

Nanami Kento sighed softly, kneeling down in front of you. He reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek with the back of his hand, his touch gentle, hesitant. “You shouldn’t have to feel like this about me, about everything.” he murmured, his voice low, filled with regret. “You shouldn’t let this hurt you. Not anymore—”

“But you did.” you cut him off, your voice cracking. “Every time you left, every time you put your work first… it felt like I didn’t matter.”

He bowed his head, the weight of your words sinking into him. “I know.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your hands trembling as you clutched the fabric of the couch beneath you. “I loved you, Kento. I still love you. But I don’t know if I can keep doing this… if I can keep feeling like I’m waiting for something that will never come.”

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, and for the first time in a long while, you saw something break in his calm façade. “I never wanted you to wait. But I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t know….I didn’t know how to stop saving people.”

The vulnerability in his voice, the raw honesty, made your heart ache even more. You could see it now—his struggle, his conflict between the duty he felt as a sorcerer and the love he had for you. But that didn’t change the fact that you had spent so long feeling alone, abandoned in a relationship that demanded more from you than you could give.

“Why did you come tonight?” you asked, your voice shaky, desperate for answers. “Why didn’t you just leave me there?”

Nanami was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Because I couldn’t. No matter how much I tell myself it’s better for you if I stay away… I can’t stop caring about you. Nor could I just….Nor could I just leave you like that. You don’t need to be alone, not like this.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. It was the truth you had always known, deep down—that he loved you, that he cared. But caring wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between the life he led and the one you needed. And that was the most painful part.

“I don’t know how to stop loving you.” you admitted, tears streaming down your face now, unrestrained. “But I also don’t know how to keep living like this. I don’t want to keep living like this.”

Nanami looked at you then, his expression conflicted, torn between his duty and the love he had for you. “I wish I could give you more. I wish I could be what you need.”

His honesty only made the hurt deeper, and you choked back a sob, turning your face away from him. “I wish that too, Kento. But wishing doesn’t make it real.”

For a long moment, neither of you said anything, the silence heavy and suffocating. Nanami stood, his movements slow, deliberate. He walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle.

“If you ever need me.” he said quietly, his back to you, “I’ll be there. Always. No matter what. I…I’m telling you the truth.”

His voice was low, a smooth, steady rumble that sent shivers down your spine. The way his fingers touched your skin, soft yet firm, made your breath catch in your throat. You hated how even now, after everything, he still had this effect on you. Your body, your heart—they responded to him instinctively, as if drawn to him by some invisible force you couldn’t control.

Your eyes met his, those deep, unwavering eyes that had always been so hard to read. Dark, focused, filled with an intensity that both excited and terrified you. He tilted his head slightly, waiting for your answer, his thumb brushing lightly against your lower lip. The heat between you was palpable, electric, pulling you closer despite the distance you had tried so hard to create between your lives.

But it wasn’t just lust. It was the ache of wanting something you knew you could never fully have.

“I—” You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper as you fought to find the words. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

It was the truth. You were caught between desire and heartbreak, between the pull of your body and the ache in your chest.

Nanami’s gaze softened slightly, though his hand remained firm against your chin. “You can always tell me. Even if you don’t know, I’m here to listen.”

His lips were inches from yours now, and your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Your breath hitched, and you felt the throbbing in your core intensify, the need rising within you. But it wasn’t just physical—it was the need to feel close to him again, to bridge the distance between you, if only for a moment.

His thumb grazed your lip again, this time slower, more deliberate. “Tell me what you need.” he whispered, his voice like silk, coaxing you to let go of everything you were holding back.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your eyes fluttered shut for just a second, your resolve slipping away. You wanted him—needed him—but the weight of everything between you still clung to the edges of your mind.

“I want…” you began, your voice trembling as you opened your eyes to meet him once more. “I want you. But I don't want you.”

There it was. The painful truth, laid bare between you.

Nanami’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the flicker of something in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or maybe understanding. He leaned in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I know.” he said softly. “And I’m sorry.”

But even as he apologized, his hand slid down from your chin to the curve of your neck, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path that sent waves of heat coursing through your body. You inhaled sharply, your resolve crumbling further with every second that passed.

He always knew how to touch you, how to make you forget the pain, the doubts, the distance. It was intoxicating, the way he could pull you in without even trying, and despite everything, you couldn’t help but lean into it. Into him.

His lips hovered over yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, but he didn’t close the gap. He never did—he always waited for you to make the choice, to cross that line. He gave you control, even when it felt like you had none.

“What do you want?” he asked again, his voice barely more than a breath as his hand settled at the base of your neck, fingers brushing the sensitive skin there.

You could feel the tension coiling in your body, the way your heart raced, the way every nerve seemed to be on fire. You wanted to push him away, to tell him that this wasn’t right, that you couldn’t keep doing this. But the pull of him was too strong, and your body betrayed you.

“I want…...” The words caught in your throat, your breath shaky, your lips barely an inch from his. “I want you to make me forget.”

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the pain, not the past, not the uncertainty of what the future held. All that mattered was the feel of his hand on your skin, the way his eyes never left yours, the way his presence grounded you and made you feel alive all at once.

Nanami’s lips finally brushed against yours, a soft, tentative kiss that sent a shock of electricity through your body. You responded instinctively, pressing into him, the taste of him familiar and yet still enough to set your senses ablaze.

His other hand slid down your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second of it. You moaned softly into his mouth, your body melting against him, your mind blissfully empty of everything except him.

For just this moment, you let yourself forget. Forget the hurt, the separation, the longing that had been eating at you for months. Right now, all that existed was the heat between you, the way his hands moved over your body, the way his lips claimed yours with a tenderness that both healed and hurt.

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself fall into the moment, into him, knowing that tomorrow would bring all the same questions and heartache. But for tonight, you let yourself be with him, no matter how fleeting it might be.

The kiss lingered, both tender and desperate, a blend of longing and unresolved emotions that seemed to pulse between you. Nanami’s hands roamed your body with a careful intensity, as if he were trying to memorize every curve, every shiver that ran through you. His touch was both familiar and achingly new, a reminder of what you once had and what you had been missing.

You clung to him, your hands tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer as if you could erase the months of separation with just this physical connection. Every touch, every caress felt like a balm to the wound that had been left open for so long.

But even as the moment enveloped you, reality kept its sharp edge. Every kiss, every touch was a reminder of the distance that had come between you, the reasons you’d tried so hard to move on. The passion that ignited between you was a bitter-sweet symphony, playing a melody of both desire and regret.

Nanami broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his forehead resting against yours. He looked into your eyes with a mixture of yearning and sadness, the weight of everything unsaid pressing heavily between you.

“I’m so sorry.” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “For everything.”

You could only nod, your throat tight, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. “I know.” you managed to say, your voice trembling. “I know.”

He cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had silently fallen. “You mean everything to me, you know?” he said softly, his gaze unwavering. “But I know I can’t just come back and expect everything to be okay.”

You nodded again, tears blurring your vision as you tried to process the complexity of the moment. The feelings between you were still raw, unhealed, and the reality of your situation pressed down hard on both of you. You wanted to hold onto him, to keep him close, but the pain of the past and the uncertainty of the future loomed large.

Kento's massivehands slowly slid from your face to your shoulders, his touch grounding and reassuring. “We can’t go back to how we were.” he said softly, a note of resignation in his voice. “I can’t promise you that everything will be perfect.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to find your voice amidst the whirlwind of emotions. “I don’t expect perfection,” you said, your voice cracking. “I just… I just want to know that you still care, that there’s still something left between us.”

He looked at you with a deep sadness in his eyes, as if he were trying to convey all the things he couldn’t put into words. “I care,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you know. But we both need to heal, to figure out what’s next. I can’t keep coming and going, leaving you with more pain.”

You swallowed hard, trying to reconcile his words with the longing you still felt. “What happens now?” you asked softly, feeling the weight of the question hanging in the air.

Nanami sighed, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “I don’t know.” he admitted.

“Me neither.” You whisper to him as your eyes echoed to him and narrowed. “But I want you to love me. Tonight. Right now.”

“But—”

You kissed him, hungry and passionate. You pull at his jaw, wanting him closer than ever before. You want him near. You want him enveloping you. As though an embrace that would lock you away in his warmth for the rest of your lives. It was as though the fire of young love reawakened after a long hibernation. And you want more than anything this spring, this warmth of spring. His love.

Kento hesitates for a moment, his gaze heavy with concern and desire, before he finally whispers, "Are you sure?"

You nod, breathless, your hands trembling as you reach for him. "I'm sure, Kento. I want you… I've always wanted you."

His resolve falters, and he leans forward, capturing your lips again with a fervor that sends a jolt of electricity through your body. His hands slide over your back, pulling you closer, and you feel the heat of his body pressing against you. He deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing your lips, coaxing you open to taste him, to feel him.

When he finally breaks the kiss, you're both panting, your breaths mingling in the confined space of the car. There's a moment where neither of you speaks, just staring at each other, the weight of your shared desire hanging in the air.

Kento's hand moves between your legs, his fingers grazing over the fabric of your clothes, and you shiver at the contact. He’s gentle at first, almost hesitant, but when he sees the way your body responds, a low growl escapes his throat. He’s lost in the moment, his mouth descending to taste you, his tongue working deftly to unravel every ounce of pleasure he can from you.

You gasp, your back arching against the seat as his tongue dances over your most sensitive parts, his spit mixing with your own arousal. His hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you like a man starved, each stroke and flick of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge.

When you finally break, a cry tearing from your throat, he doesn’t hesitate. He lifts you easily, pulling you onto his lap, his lips finding yours again in a messy, desperate kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, the tang of your desire mingling with his own.

He fumbles with his pants, freeing himself from the constraints, and you feel the heat of him, hard and ready, pressing against you. Your eyes meet, and for a moment, there’s a silent understanding — a shared want that transcends words.

With a quiet groan, he grips your hips, guiding you over him, his breath catching as he finally pushes inside. You both gasp, a moan escaping your lips as he fills you completely, your bodies moving in a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing. He clings to you, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, and you cling back just as fiercely, not wanting this moment to end.

“I won't stop anymore." he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your ear, and you know he means it — neither of you want to stop.

Kento’s words hang heavy in the air, igniting something primal within you. You shift your hips, pressing down harder, taking him deeper, and a guttural sound escapes his lips, his hands digging into your waist as if he’s afraid you might disappear.

He starts moving, thrusting up into you with a roughness that takes your breath away. You hold onto his shoulders for balance, your nails digging into his skin, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure through your body.

You couldn't help but groan over and over with every sensual movement, the windows fogging up as the air grows thick with your mingled breaths and moans.

Kento’s mouth is everywhere — on your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. His lips are hot, leaving trails of fire across your skin. He sucks and nips, marking you as his.

And it makes you gasp, makes you arch closer, needing more, craving everything he can give you. Your body moves on instinct, rolling your hips against him, each motion driving him deeper until you feel like you can’t take it anymore.

“More, more….Oh—” you whisper, a plea escaping your lips. He groans in response, tightening his grip on you, his hips slamming into yours with a desperate rhythm.

He shifts, one hand sliding down between your bodies, his fingers finding your sensitive nub. He circles it, presses down, and you cry out, your body clenching around him as the sensations intensify, as every nerve feels like it's on fire.

The sound of skin against skin fills the car, mingling with the soft creak of leather and the panting breaths escaping both of you.

Kento’s pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more urgent. “God, you feel so good.” he murmurs, his voice ragged, almost broken.

He leans in, his forehead pressing against yours, his eyes searching yours for something — maybe reassurance, maybe something deeper.

"Tell me you want this." he breathes, his thumb circling faster.

“I want it,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “I want you, Kento… don't stop, please…”

That seems to be all he needs. He growls low in his throat, his grip tightening as he thrusts into you with renewed fervor, each movement harder, deeper, pushing you both to the edge of oblivion. Your hands clutch his hair, pulling him closer as you feel the coil tightening in your belly, threatening to snap.

He shifts again, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you, and you scream, the sound raw and needy, your body trembling. You can feel the heat pooling, feel the tension building to an unbearable point.

He leans back slightly, watching you with hooded eyes, and the sight of him — pupils blown wide, lips parted, sweat slicking his skin — sends a new wave of desire crashing through you.

“Come for me, baby.” he commands, his voice a gravelly whisper. “Let me feel you.”

The words push you over the edge, your body convulsing around him as you shatter, pleasure ripping through you like a tidal wave. Kento groans, feeling you clench around him, and he thrusts a few more times before he’s there too, his own release surging through him with a low, guttural sound.

You collapse against him, both of you panting, bodies trembling and slick with sweat. For a moment, you just stay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, feeling the aftershocks of what you’ve just shared. He strokes your back gently, his breath still uneven, his heart pounding against yours.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, his voice filled with concern, his thumb brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You smile, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. "More than okay, baby." you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, tasting the salt of your shared exertion on his lips. "I don't want this to end.”

“I missed you.” He whispered lowly as he pressed a kiss on your palm. “More than you ever could know.”

You smiled at him. “Me too, my love.”

“I want to come home….and make things right.” Your husband tells you, his eyes tortured by desperation. “I want to make it up to you.”

“I know.” You nodded at him, leaning forward and kissing his chin. “Just come home. We’ll figure it out….like we always do.”

[lure-of-writing]

His little Sister: I'm sorry

Summary: The mating bond between you and Azriel has been revealed and he isn't sure if any apology will ever make up for the hurt he has cause you.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: none that I know of

Authors note: Guys I just got my nails done so if there is typos it's because I'm not used to typing with daggers on my hands. But anyways that's not what we're here for. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Azriel was screwed. Royally screwed. Even as the spymaster of the night court he had no idea how he was going to get out of this one unscathed. First and foremost there was you. You were the mosting important thing in this giant mess that your cousin just caused and making sure you were ok was his first priority. That is once you inevitably get all of the hurt and betrayal out of your system. He could feel your emotions barrelling down the bond and it damn near made him crumple under the weight of your hurt. Next on the list of casualties was Rhysand. And by the look on the high lord's face it was a mixture of pure unfiltered anger and the need to protect his little sister. Azriel can’t blame him, you look like you could either rip him to shreds and bawl your eyes out while doing so.

Rationally Azriel knew that Rhys would never really do anything to hurt him but the other part knew that Rhysand played dirty when it came to his family and it was some sort of unwritten rule that he would go to the end of the world to make sure you were ok. If Rhysand played dirty before he was about to get filthy now. This would not be the first time he stepped toe to toe against a high lord, specifically against Rhys, but this time would without a doubt be different. This time Rhysand would pocket away all of the years of their friendship and in turn he would fight Azriel like a traitor. He, without trying, had broken your heart and betrayed your trust. To Rhysand this was the ultimate act of betrayal. 

Only being one hundred years younger than your brother means all three males were also relatively young in the grand scheme of things. Rhysand held your tiny body against his. The three males had taken a break forming training in the mountains to visit you in Velaris. It wasn’t often Rhysand was allowed to leave the camps, much less often for Azriel and Cassian. But with the arrival of a new babe they had been permitted to leave. It became a tradition to visit the ever growing babe once a year. Somewhere in the chaos of training for the Blood Rite you had grown into a teenager. Cassian was sprawled out on one of the couches in the cabin and Azirel had taken his place in the chair that was unofficially deemed as his. There in a seat a little bit bigger than his own but yet still smaller than the couch Cassian claimed you were curled up against your older brother, peacefully sleeping.

Rhysand had always disliked the way things were run in the camps, oftentimes they made his blood boil but something changed in him the day you were born. Rhys knew from a young age that he would be a protector. A protector of his friends, his family, his people and his court. But he never knew that the most precious thing he would come to protect was you. He never wanted in the camps, walking amongst those who would take any opportunity to clip your wings or even kill you without a second thought. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do to stop your visit as your father deemed it necessary. 

Silence was light in the room. Occasionally there was a pop or crackle from the fire, the sound of clothes shifting against the couch from Cassian and the light noise of you breathing. With a heavy sigh Rhys rubbed his face causing both males to look at their friend in confusion. “Something on your mind brother?” Cassian's deep voice filled the once quiet room.  For a moment nothing was said as Rhysand just looked deep into the fire before once again sighing and rubbing his face before throwing his head back to rest on the couch. “What if I’m not capable of protecting her?” The two males looked at each other in confusion before turning their attention back on their friend. Everyone knew that the power Rhys possessed was quite frankly, insane, to put it simply. “Rhys, I think you're forgetting you are there, bud.” Once more Cassian's voice takes over the room. This time in a gentle laughter. “It’s not that I’m unaware of what I am capable of.” Rhys stops speaking as he looks down at your resting form laying against him. Gently he moves a piece of hair that had fallen in your face. “I know what I can do. What I am willing to do to keep her safe but I will not always be around to protect her and that is what I fear.”

“Being her brother is the greatest honor I have ever been given but what if I fail? What will it cost her? Just her being here possesses a threat to her life. Those males out there would not hesitate to clip her wings or flat out kill her. What happens when I am needed elsewhere and she is in trouble? Who will save her then? I know my mother is training her to fight but I never want her to be put in that position where she has to. Making sure she is safe, happy and loved is all I want for her. I never want her to experience the world we have endured.” 

Neither males have a sister but they do have the love of siblings for each other and they know the lengths they would go to for the other males. They may not know what it's like to have a sibling but they do know what it's like to love you. Since the day you were born they have done nothing but love and dote on you. If you tripped and fell and scraped your knees Cassian would scoop you up and cradle you until you stopped crying. Only then would he set you somewhere where he could properly clean the cuts littering your body and then take you for a treat to make you feel better. Azriel would help you with any of the boring assignments your mother would hand out. “I don’t even know what this means!” you would groan out in frustration before dramatically letting your head fall face first into the book. Luckly Az knew you very well. Without looking up from what he was doing he placed his hand palm up in the book and waited for the impact of your head against his hand. 

Finally once your head was in his hand, did he finally look up. “You may not understand it right now but eventually you will and you will be grateful your mother made you do this.” Groaning once more you left your head where it was. “Easy for you to say you're like a genius or something.” You grumble while Azriel lifts your head for you. Gently he pats the top of your head. “Maybe if you studied more you could be one too.” A mixture of a frustrated groan and sigh made its way through your lips causing Azriel to chuckle. 

It was safe to say that they understood what a light you are in the world. In their world. And each male would do anything to protect it. “You know we would protect her with our lives, right?” Cassian now sat up on the couch. This conversation was important. “We have known her since the day she was born. We have watched her grow and reach each millstone just like you have Rhys. We would never let anything happen to her. If it were my life or hers, I would happily give up mine. I’m sure Az feels the same way.” And Azriel did. “You don’t have to worry about her by yourself. We can share the worry Rhys. You know you can count on us. If anything ever happens to you, we will protect her just as fiercely as you do. You know that right?”  And Rhysand did in fact know that but there would always be some part of him that thinks only he will ever be able to do a good enough job at keeping you safe. 

Apparently Rhysand was right. Only he would protect you. Azriel had broken his promise and now he would pay. Next on his list of people to deal with was Morrigian. At the moment she was not a priority but eventually would be. First he needed to survive the night. 

If Azriel were to go back in time less than a week ago, he would have been more or less avoiding you. After his talk with Rhysand about the more interesting part of your relationship the shadowsinger thought it would be a good idea to give you some space, not wanting it to seem like he was trying to pursue something with you. Obviously that was the exact opposite of what he wanted but he was also keenly aware of your brother's disapproval of any male you chose to date. Azriel was sure he wouldn’t fare better than the others. On the other side Azriel truly had no idea how you would react to you being his mate and that terrified him. 

He hadn’t seen you much since the training incident with Cassian. As much as it bothered him to not be able to check on your healing himself he had Cassian right there basically giving me second by second updates. Which he did appreciate but since Cassian knew you were his brother's mate he was being a little over the top. Which is why Azriel was not expecting to see you on the rooftop for the daily morning training session. 

Az and his shadows watched from across the room as Cass ushered you back towards the house. That was until you saw him and course corrected to be right in front of him. “You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” The hurt in your voice made him feel like a terrible person but he also couldn’t give you the real answer why. Not right now and definitely not right here. “I haven’t been avoiding you.” He knew he was whispering but he also knew there were more listening ears then just yours, mainly Cassians. Azriel watched as Cassian scooped you up and walked back to where he was herding you, just moments before you veered off on your own. 

As the shadowsinger and spymaster of the night court there wasn’t much, if anything, that made him nervous. The piercing stare of your gaze following his every move was definitely unsettling. But his male ego wouldn’t let him slip into that unflinching state of mind that he would usually find himself in when sparring. Now he was keenly aware of each move he was making while in front of you. His need to impress didn’t go unnoticed by his brother. Thankfully Cassian decided to have mercy on his soul and let him get in a few good punches as his repayment for when Cassian did the same to him while in front of Nesta. 

The daily sparring session was over sooner and also later then he wanted it to be. One part of him wanted to continue to impress you, even if he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that you were even impressed in the first place. The other part of him just really wants to get the awaiting conversation over with. Azriel headed over the bench where his long forgotten shirt and water bottle had been previously placed. He had barely gotten in one drink of water when you appeared in front of him. “Why have you been avoiding me?” It was the same question that you had previously asked him before being dragged away by Cassian. And yet this time it made him even more nervous then the first time you had asked him. The last thing Azriel ever wanted to do was make you feel like he didn’t want to be around you. Even before the bond he wanted to be around you every chance he could get and you knew that. He needed a reason you would believe. A downfall that came with spending all of his spare time with you is that you were able to tell when he was lying better than anyone else in the inner circle. There was only one thing he could tell you that wasn’t the full truth nor a complete lie. Rhys wasn’t a fan of the relationship, or lack thereof, between the two of us and he needed to step back in respect for Rhysand. 

Thankfully the mother was on his side that morning because you believed him. 

Opening up his arms in a form of some peace offering he’s quickly wrapped in your arms. Even though hugging anyone who was sweaty was something that he knew drove you crazy you did it anyways and it warmed his heart. But watching you place your chin on top of his chest just about made his heart melt. He prayed that you wouldn’t be able to feel or hear just how fast his heart is beating, and it is not from the training. 

Oh how Azriel wished he could go back in time to just a few days ago. Hell he would even go back to when he was avoiding you. Truthfully anything would be better than what was currently unraveling in front of him. 

“How long have you known?” Azriel tore his eyes away from Morr to look at you. The look of heartbreak that painted your face was like a suckerpunch to his gut. He took a sharp breath in. You were always stunning in Azriels eyes but looking at you now was like looking like a fallen angel. As much as the poetic beauty was undeniable he also never wanted to see that look on your face again. He would do anything to make you trust him again. 

“I-” Azriel didn’t realize just how dry his throat was until he tried speaking. Actually now that he was focused on his body he was pretty sure he felt like he was going to throw up. Swallowing he takes another deep breath. A quick glance to his right reveals Rhysand with a raised eyebrow and barely contained anger. “I’ve known since the war.” Azriel always imagined this moment would be very different. Just the two of you in private. And it would finally feel like a brick being lifted off of his chest. 

But watching your reaction to his confession felt like the opposite. He watched as you blew out a heavy breath and grabbed the back of Morrigians chair for support. Looking at the look he watches a tear finally free itself and makes its way to the ground. Just as quickly as the first tear had fallen the rest had also followed suit. He watches as you shake your head and look at your brother for the answer of what you are supposed to do. The dining room had never been as quiet as it was in these waking moments and Azriel despised it. Even if he was the cause of it. “You’ve known for almost a year and you never told me?” The spymaster watched as you fought against the lump in your throat only for your voice to crack on the last word. “Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to let me continue to dream about the love I desired. Let me think I was never going to get the love Rhys and Fey have? You’ve known for months!”  Azriel sat unmoving as your betrayal turned to sadness and then anger. You had never raised your voice and yelled at him before but he knew he deserved every ounce of anger you threw at him. “You-you out of all people knew how I felt about mates and yet you held this from me. My mate! I-I-I -oh my god.” Time seemed to slow down in that moment as he watched you grab your chest in pain then collapse to the floor. He felt himself rise. Azriel wasn’t sure why, was it to move to the other side of the table and comfort you? Was it in shock? Fear for your breaking heart? He wasn’t sure. It was like slow motion as Mor swiftly twisted out of her seat and caught your limp body on the way down to the floor. Together the two females sat on the floor. Morrigian had wrapped her arms around your body and held you pressed against her chest as you sobbed. 

“Azriel!” That was the commanding voice of a high lord. The force of which Rhysand said his name and allowed his power to wash over him was the only thing capable of pulling his focus off of your crumpled body. Looking back to his right he notes that Rhysand has pushed the chair he was previously sitting in far behind him. It didn’t go unnoticed how Feyre made her way to you with urgency. The primal anger and need to protect his family also didn’t go unnoticed by the shadowsinger. He was about to get his ass beat. If not altogether killed. Rhysand may have been mad at Cassian for hurting you but he did go easy on him, even if it resulted in a few nasty bruises littering his body. Azriel knew for sure this would be nothing like that time. Rhysand had a look of death in his eyes and Azriel was sure death was waiting to greet him. 

“Uh oh. Yeah you guys may want to get out of here it's about to get ugly.” Cassian also stood from where he was once seated and began stretching. Noting Feyres' worry Cassian continued “Don’t worry I won’t let them hurt each other too much.” He paused, “Well I won’t let them kill each other.” 

Only after everyone except Mor and Cassian had winnowed away his Rhysand lunge at Azriel. 

Ever since learning that you were his mate one of his shadows followed you religiously. He never even told them to do that, it was just something they did naturally. His shadows always were ones to keep an eye on you even if you were completely safe. 

That's how he found himself in front of the river house. His shadows danced around him in warning of the two females sitting in the living room still awake at this hour. Without looking at a clock Azriel would assume it was around three in the morning. Gently he pushes the hard oak door open only closing it after allowing himself inside the quiet house.  Azriel knew he could make his way to your room without either one of the females knowing but he assumed it was better to get everything that could tear him apart over with while he was down. 

“I feel bad for her. I know what it's like when the other person knows they're your mate and you're left in the dark. But this is something else. If Mor hadn’t said anything would he?” He could hear the voice of his concerned high lady. “Do we know if she even still has a mate? Rhysand looked like he was going to kill him.” Nestas' voice that usually dripped in sarcasm was dry as bone. Stepping into the room he made his footsteps louder than he would ever step to announce his presence. A sharp gasp was the only noise that Feyre made as she brought her hands to cover her mouth. “Oh my gods” The scraping of the chair against the wooden floor pulls his gaze from the spot on the floor he found particularly interesting to see Feyre making her way over to him. Over her shoulder he could see Nesta taking inventory of the damage Rhysand caused. “Are you ok?” He shrugs off her question but allows her gentle hands to move his head from side to side.

“How is she?” Everybody knew who he was talking about. Feyre led him to the couch ushering him to sit down as Nesta answered “As well as you can expect.” Feyre had stepped out of the room to grab a pain relieving tonic “She just fell asleep a few minutes before you got here” she pushes the vial into his hands “Drink” she insists. “I never meant for it to go like this. For it to get this far without me telling her. I just was waiting for her to feel it herself but then I just kept waiting and waiting and waiting and the next thing I knew I was sitting at that table listening to Mor tell her. I promise I never meant to hurt her. You know that right? You have to believe me.” The constant throbbing throughout his body finally forced him to drink the tonic in hopes it could even touch the pain he was feeling. “I’m sure you never meant for this to happen az. But why didn’t you just tell her. Anyone with eyes could see that she already had feelings for you.’’

“I wanted it to be her choice. I would never force her to accept the bond. All I want is for her to be happy no matter what.” A heavy sigh fell from both females before the peaceful silence filled the room. Nesta was the first to leave in hopes of getting at least an hour of sleep before she needed to be awake for training. With a gentle squeeze of his arm Feyre stands above him “I Believe you Az. But you need to understand how hurt she is currently feeling.” looking up he sees not his high lady or Rhysands mate but a concerned friend. “I know I can feel it through the bond.” Feyre smiles sadly before stopping in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Go be with her Az. You both need it.”

The warmth of the fire was the first thing Azriel noticed upon entering your room. Although fae ran warmer than humans you were the rare exception. Unless absorbing heat from the sun or another person you were on average at least ten degrees colder than anyone else. A small smile found its away to his face to see the fire going. His own personal relationship with fire may be nonexistent but for you he would endure it a hundred times over. The next thing he noticed was your sniffling and quiet sobs. In three large strides he was kneeing besides your bed. “Y/n” you name was like a whisper of a prayer in a silent coven meant for worship. He watched as your eyes opened to meet his and listened as a sob racked your body. “I am so sorry baby” Quickly he raised from where he was previously knelt on the floor and climbed into bed with you. The move to place your body on top of his was easy but listening to the silent cries of your heart breaking wasn’t. “I never meant to hurt you I swear.” 

Eventually the tears raining upon his chest and was replaced with the gentle breathing of your sleeping form. Azriel knew he should sleep but he couldn’t help but admire every part of you just in case this was the last time he  got to hold you like this. That's why he wasn’t startled when Rhysand barged into your room, startling you awake. “I told you to stay away from her. I’m going to kill you.” He promised. Azriel didn’t take his eyes off of your brother as you raised to sit in between his legs. Rhysand could do whatever he wished but Azriel wouldn’t leave without making sure you were ok first. “Rhys don’t. You may be mad at him, but Azriel is my mate.” The bond had never sung in happiness like it did basking in the warmth of your acknowledgement.

Taglist

@kemillyfreitas @lana08 @willowpains @username199945 @tothestarsandwhateverend

@kylaisra @lilah-asteria @nickishadow139 @br0klynbby @blacktreacle22

@amysangel @mp-littlebit @mybestfriendmademe

@olive-main @mariahoedt @tele86 @marina468 @fangirlloza010 @kennedy-brooke

[dragonsfictavern]

Without Much Spoken

Astarion x gn!Reader

a/n: My first attempt at posting for bg3 and Astarion. But I plan to continue posting many more fics for not only this lil guy, but for a lot of the party! So stick around!

summary: During one night of your groups travels together, Astarion enters the room to find you overwhelmed and crying. Acting before thinking it through, Astarion comforts you.

word count: 1.1k

Walking up the stairs of the Inn their group was staying in for the next couple of days, Astarion opens the door as he normally would, heading to bed after the exhausting day that had finally, at last, ended. He was more than ready to plop into bed and fall into a hopefully dreamless sleep. His only true escape that lasted far few hours.

But as soon as the door creaked open, a small sliver of light shining through, your sobs broke through the silence like a fierce screech. They stopped a moment after, the silence even more heavy and the tension growing thick the longer neither of you speak.

Astarion opens the door, only a bit further. Enough for the light from the hall to catch on your features. Your frozen, having fled to isolation in order to prevent this. To stop anyone from seeing you, to not bother anyone else with the weight of your intensely hyperactive feelings. Especially him. God, you didn’t want to bother him with this.

Astarion was always good for a light joke, a quick quip. He was good at that. At making things feel lighter, even unintentionally making you feel better at times. But that’s not what you wanted right now. You didn’t want to feel better in that way, you didn’t want to attempt to push aside your emotions for another, you didn’t want to just forget about what you felt. You needed to let out what was overwhelming you. What twisted your gut with anxiety, what made it hard to breathe, what sent your body into overdrive, what clouded your mind and made you feel like a complete mess.

You needed it out, and you knew Astarion wasn’t typically the one to go to with that sort of thing. You never held it against him, you cared for him, you may even love him. But you knew he had little to no experience in the ways of comforting someone. Knew he didn’t really know how to do that. So, in an action you convinced herself was selfless, you didn’t confide in him. Didn’t give him the chance to offer whatever type of comfort he possibly could provide.

And Astarion knew it all and more. With his past, he knew how to read people easily. Learning how others think was vital in his line of work, in his everyday life, in his survival… Reading you always seemed a little bit easier for him to do than it was with others. He could see what you were trying to do. The way your body stiffened on the bed, the tears both dried and fresh on your cheeks, the way your hands clenched as if you wished the ground would swallow you whole.

Astarion didn’t feel any particular way about this revelation. He could see your reasoning, your line of thinking and what brought you to the conclusions you ended up at. So he honestly couldn’t explain why he reacted the way he did.

His hand shuts the door, encompassing you both back into darkness without thought. His feet move toward you on their own. Though the darkness surrounds you both, both of your eyes end up adjusting again. You can see the way Astarion stops at the edge of the bed, his form hovering over your curled frame on the bed.

It’s without a word that he slides into bed behind you, his back resting comfortably against the headboard. His legs spread wide, giving you enough space to sit between them. His hands softly curl around you, not trying to overwhelm you even more. One hand around your stomach, feeling the erratic breaths you take as you attempts to hide your cries. The other hand over your heart, feeling its pounding rhythm, both from the mix of emotions that sent you to this state and from him finding you here. He didn’t need to do this, his hearing being able to pick it up well enough on its own. But for some reason he needed the reassurance. That it was all real.

He pulls you into his chest and you don’t hesitate to fall against him, putting your weight on him. He isn’t doing this to prove anything to you. To prove he can comfort you, if you needed him to. No, he isn’t going to make you come to him and he’s not going to make you hide. He doesn’t know why he’s done this. He just… did. Wanted to. It’s all he can grasp onto.

The feeling of him being there was enough, you realize. It had taken so much energy to try and remain still after Astarion found you, but now that he was here and he’s staying, you can’t hold it in any longer. It physically pained you beyond explanation. Sobs broke out of you, the action moving your body with its force. You couldn’t control it.

Astarion just sits there, not saying anything and not really doing anything either. But it’s more than enough. You didn’t realize how being alone had made everything so much worse. You thought that being alone, having nothing around that could possibly add to your array of emotions was what was best for you. But as you two laid together, you noticed the way Astarion didn’t add anything. The way he could actually help in ways everyone else just couldn’t seem to.

Eventually you begin to calm down, your body shaking but your emotions releasing and leaving you. That’s when you feel Astarion’s hand on the back of your head. You jump slightly, but besides that, you don’t dare acknowledge it. His hand gently starts combing through your hair. Then when he reaches the end, he brings it back to the top of your head. You sigh heavily, falling into him further. The peace of the empty silence, the darkness that covers everything, washes over you both. Neither of you seem to want to break it.

You tilt your head ever so slightly, hoping he doesn’t stop. The gesture was doing wonders to help calm you down further. You can barely make out Astarion through the darkness, but you can see enough to tell he’s simply staring ahead. It’s then you realize that he probably hadn’t even noticed what he’s doing to you. How he’s actually comforting you. It sends waves of pleasure through you, working both to overwhelm you a bit more and yet also calming you. You fall back, fully resting on him once again as he, in a way, pets you. Your eyes seemingly closed on their own.

It’s only after an unknown amount of time that he murmurs in your ear, “I’m here.”

[leaawrites]

The Eras Tour

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: in which your boyfriend surprises you with tickets for The Eras Tour.

I kinda wrote this as like a hug of some sort because I didn’t get tickets and am now devastated. (Yes, I did cry about it) (more than once if I'm honest)

Warnings: fluff, a bit of making out, kissing, English isn't my first language

Masterlist

"I hate it here so I will go to / secret gardens in my mind / people need a key to get to / the only one is mine."

Lando heard low humming and whispered words leaving her mouth as he closed the door to her apartment. The scent of pesto and spaghetti lingering in the air, together with the flowers of her shampoo. Walking into the kitchen, he leaned against the doorframe, watching her. Towel wrapped around her hair to dry, pyjama pants covering her legs and a bra. A coffee, half empty, was still sitting beside her. She took a sip now and then.

Turning around she grinned at him, stop singing to not embarrass herself.

"Hello there," she said, quoting Obi-Wan.

Lando laughed at her low voice and miserable impression of the Jedi.

"Hi you," he said back, still staring.

A sense of happiness floated around him and she could feel it. The good mood was drowning every other emotion that once was in the room.

"What's got you so happy?" she asked, beginning to move to the new beat.

New Romantics.

She knew how much the almost of every race weightened him down. She could feel it in the way he held her, his sorrow drowning her as well. The possibility of a new win made the second place feel so much worse. He could do it now, he knew that. He just wasn't able to do it. Maybe it would take him another 5 years, he once told her as they laid in bed together. Then I'll wait 5 more years, she answered.

"Pack your bags," Lando answered simply.

"Where are you taking me, Mr Norris?" she asked, finishing up the spaghetti and walking over to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, he kissed her.

"Milan," he whispered.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with confusion. What could they possibly want in Milan at this moment?

"I know that you were sad when you didn't get Tickets to go to The Eras Tour, so I may have called a few people," he elaborated. Her eyes widen and her mouth stood open in shock.

"You did what?" She asked just to make him repeat his words. Her heart was beating and her eyes were flooded with tears all of a sudden.

"We're going to see T-swizzle, baby," he said, laughing at her reaction.

"Holy shit," she exclaimed, throwing herself on him. Hugging him tightly and kissing his neck, a thousand thank yous falling from her lips on his skin, sinking in and finding their way to his heart where they would be kept in memory.

"Are you sure about this?" Only now did the important part come to her mind. Pulling away she looked at him. She knew how much Lando tried avoiding any public outings, in fear of the fans reaction. He didn’t care about what they said, but he knew she would. And breaking her heart through a third hand coming into their relationship wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to make her happy.

"I'm sure," he said, kissing her. "I was so in fear of other people's perception that I forgot that love is the most normal thing in the world. If I want to love you fully I will. Seeing you happy is what love is to me."

"So we're really going?" She asked again.

"We're really going," he confirmed again.

The girl began jumping up and down, squealing and screaming and laughing.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," she repeated over and over again, taking his hands in hers and holding them against her chest to make him feel her heart.

"I love you too," he said, kissing her. His hands losing hers and grabbing her breasts. His lips traveling down her neck and collarbone. Squeezing her flesh and letting her know that he meant it.

[fangsandfeels]

The vagueness of Astarion sleeping mechanics drives me mad sometimes

So, the game says that elves don't sleep - to the point where it's ironically stated that the only way for them to experience sleeping is to either drink a potion of Angelic Slumber or "get hit really hard with a chair".

Instead, they enter a semi-aware meditative state (Revery) where they experience memories from their past lives (usually most positive and emotional parts). Or they just sorting through their current memories.

Now, we've seen Astarion meditating if his way of lying on a bedroll is anything to go by. He is also immune to sleeping spells. We could also see him sleeping (in a Durge run). I know that devs technically recycle the same sleeping pose for all romanced companions, but still. Also, Astarion has nightmares, which is not typical for elves.

Of course, when I was going through the lore, I scratched the surface, but from what I understood, Revery is supposed to be a controlled state, and nightmares aren't exactly controlled.

But, I've found a very interesting bit that (so far) is still considered part of the official canon:

Elves can sleep and dream just like any human, but almost all surface elves avoid doing so. Dreams, as humans know them, are strange and confusing to elves. Unlike the actual memories of one’s primal soul, present life, or past lives, dreams are uncontrolled products of the subconscious, and perhaps the subconscious minds of those past lives or primal souls as well. An elf who dreams must always wonder whose mind these thoughts first arose from, and why. Priests of Sehanine Moonbow are an exception: they sleep and dream to receive signs from their god, and elves consult such priests to interpret their own dreams."

From: Mordenkainrn's Tome Of Foes, Chapter 2: Elves

And not only does this little bit explain a lot, but it also provides some food for your fic writing purposes.

Now, I'm entering the headcanon territory, so be warned.

Astarion's access to Revery got horribly fucked up after he had been Turned. Not only does he no longer have access to his previous lives since he is technically dead and plucked from the cycle, but he also can't even have his happy or good memories before he became a spawn. Even if they are still there, somewhere in the memory palace, getting to them requires going through the catalog of traumatic and painful memories he acquired after being enslaved by Cazador. It's like running through a burning house trying to rescue your family photo - and the hall gets longer each time. So, entering a trance means confronting the worst memories of his life over and over because there is nothing else there.

Due to this Astarion may resort to sleeping, which elves don't usually do. Elves don't like dreams because dreams are subconscious, and they can't be controlled, which scares them. For Astarion, however, it means there is a chance of him subconsciously dreaming of something nice or just being blissfully empty. However, it doesn't safeguard him from nightmares which (because they are the product of his unconsciousness) get even more twisted than simple memories.

Additionally, there can be a possibility that after becoming a spawn he got cut off from meditation and trances completely, relying on sleeping only: at least, the cut spawn epilogue by Withers mentions how while Astarion needs to sleep again, he doesn't sleep alone. While we don't know what that means exactly (and whether it will ever be implemented in the game), I assume that the tadpole gave him the ability to meditate back, but it was a small improvement because his memory headspace no longer holds happy memories capable of offering solace or refuge.

So, my personal headcanon is that he switches between meditating and sleeping depending on how aware he needs to be, and whatever option feels less torturous at the moment.

For instance, in his Origin run, when he remembers the moment of Cazador carving scars into him, he is in a trance. Which is why the memory is so horribly vivid, as if he is reliving it anew.

However, when he has a nightmare where Cazador finds him, he is sleeping and experiencing a memory affected by his subconsciousness. Which is why he jolts himself awake and desperate to know the limits of his freedom.

So, yes, the man literally can't catch a break.

On a happier note (and for your hurt/comfort fanfiction purposes), once Astarion starts traveling with Tav and the group, his memory bank gets updated with memories that are actually fun and nice, so he has something to linger upon when he is meditating. Sleeping gradually becomes a bit more pleasant experience because his subconsciousness got more material to work with, so the quality of his non-controlled dreams has to gradually improve.

[feistyvirghoe]

☆⋆·˚ ༘ * pick a card disclaimers ೃ🤍⁀➷

pick a pile u feel most called to, the one u cannot look away from, the one that is pulsing, go with your gut, always trust yourself, and if u feel called to more that’s cool baby boo! there’s more for u!

these are general and for a vast amount of ppl, don’t get ur undies all twisted up bc it’s not resonating, it’s normal and it’s fine, this just wasn’t for u! <3

these are extremely general timeless readings and they’re meant for entertainment purposes, please don’t take things so seriously and also realize my readings are for people above 18!

╰┈➤ ❝ [.ೃ࿐🀥 ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇ- major changes regarding your interpersonal relationships, how you guys interact with people and letting yourself experience new friendships, romantic relationships. I feel like your message here is to let go of what has been holding you down for so long. This energy of not wanting to see the good after you’ve been betrayed. Brighter days are ahead. It’s like the universe wanting you to see your real potential. They want you to see that you are capable of living a joyous life. You’re capable of being happy without feeling guilty or ashamed of yourself. You’re not the only one struggling mentally or in any other way. I feel like your guys are nervous to experience new things again because there’s this feeling of you being like “will this even last?” “Will this eventually be taken away from me like everything else?” I feel like you guys may need to move yourselves out of this period of thinking the same things will always happen. It wont! Especially when we believe and change our mindset surrounding this topic. You guys are being led into a newer direction. Somewhere where you feel you belong. Forming new relationships that’s re healthy and authentic with likeminded people who understand you. Things don’t have to happen so quickly so it’s always good to remember not to push yourself to fit into a mold you know will never work. This major change will lead you to your true calling/purpose, where you will be seen by the right people for you, it really is all for you. But i know we can get stuck in this negative loop or tormenting emotions that confuse us about ourselves. I’d say, what I’m seeing happening for you next is you feeling more hopeful about this new opportunity or just this general change you’re making or should be making for yourself. I also feel like you may be getting into a new partnership with someone. This person seems like they may bring a lot of positive encouragement and helpful advice to broaden your perspective. I feel like you’re going to be celebrating yourself and what you know deep down you were always capable of. You just need to see this fr yourself. That you’re an amazing, strong, independent person that achieve their goals on their own. We don’t really need people, but it’s not good to isolate yourself and hide because of your fears that are hindering you from moving on. I feel like you guys are also being shown that you can put your trust into certain individuals that respect you and wont betray you for their own benefit.] ❞

Affirmation - solar crown → i am decisive and wise. When action is required, i move swiftly with courage. When wisdom is necessary i step carefully with grace. I trust my intuitive wisdom to decide correctly.

╰┈➤ ❝ [.ೃ࿐🀥 ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ-keep on going pile 2! If someone here is feeling like giving up, DO NOT, I REPEAT DO NOT! You seem to be so close to something. It seems like you guys have been working your asses off, to achieve a certain goal, or idea, it’s something that you can’t take your mind off of. The energy is so fast paced, like i just want to get into it, you all seem to be moving in the right direction. Using all the power you have within you to get to this thing of yours. I feel like it may have to do with work of some sort, it doesn’t have to be so extreme, but you’ve been putting in action or you need to put in that action. You have this spirit of persistence and not giving up on this decision. I feel like you guys know where you want to be. But it’s the moving, a lot of passionate energy here, man I don’t even think that this is something you can take your mind off. You’re just aware of what is needed, you shouldn’t hide what power you hold. There’s something about you guys being more in that masculine role, moving towards your purpose, which i feel is the theme of this entire reading, doing what you love to do without feeling ashamed of it. Yes this will take some of your time and have you very busy, but i think you moving and not staying in a stagnant place pumps up your energy. It could even be with building your strength within and outside of you. Taking better care of yourself, knowing your own limits and not falling off because of one setback. I feel like you guys are being shown that it’s okay to show off your talents and gifts. This light within you that you should never really repress, but don’t burn yourself playing with the flames. I feel like you guys really need to keep going, it’s just something about the messages coming out for you that are screaming at me to tell you to keep on moving forward. Leaving the unhinged shit in the past.

“I can heal now and always.” Another message that I’m getting is not pushing yourself to the point of burnout. That’s when it gets tricky, because you put your all into something all at once and then get weird results where you feel not good enough. But you are, you’re enough right now. No, you do not need to be where that other person is, i know working and working will tear you apart. You guys should give yourself a break from time to time to re-collect and realize that your healing journey will never look like or be anyone else’s but yours. It’s time to fight off these distractions and quiet that overthinking mind of yours. You can work and play as well. Don’t take everything so personally, know when it’s you and take yourself out of the equation. I feel like this full moon is helping you to own your full potential and understand that you are also in control of your life. Don’t leave everything up to chance and own your shush! You are an amazing powerful being and i want you to understand this deep down even if you feel different, you are fricking powerful, a goddamn badass! ] ❞

Affirmations - clairvoyant author → i am the author of my story, i am the author of my own narrative. I write the future in myself. I re-script negative self-criticism, and i narrate positive thoughts.

╰┈➤ ❝ [.ೃ࿐🀥 ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ- Right off the bat y’all, i truly feel like there is some sort of competitive, petty, jealous energy that is being projected your way. Either you already know this or you don’t to the fullest extent. But you guys seem so guarded and indifferent to this shit. I’m not sure if it’s one or multiple people projecting this towards you, but you don’t seem to be buying something or someone’s BS! Whatever this is, it’s extremely unhealthy, the energy is wonky and that’s probably how you feel. But this i feel has to do with some sort of relationship. I feel like you don’t want what this person has to offer, or there is an offer but you seem to be skeptical of it. Why do i feel like you’re being pulled in so many different directions, it’s like hard to make a choice. This confusion. I really hope you’re not with someone who’s trying to control you or even manipulate you into something you know is damaging for you. I feel like someone/something can’t let you go, there’s this energy trying to cling onto you. It feels like someone wants to block you from seeing your true potential. Because you are talented at something, you got the tools for whatever this may be, like you’re so fucking close. A chapter has ended, you have to decide if you want to walk away or keep repeating it with other people, but i feel like you already know that you should be taking things more smoothly. You can’t get up and go back playing kickball right after you sprain your ankle. It’s alright for you to rest and look after yourself. I feel like you guys need to let that wall down a little bit and remember the why, the why that made you get up and go after what you want every day even if its small steps. Small steps to creating a better social circle. Finding the right communities for you, engaging with people who get it. You don’t have to force anything or be anything to anyone but your most authentic self and i know we hear it all the time but it’s so true. It’s better to walk around knowing who you are instead of pretending to fit in. You don’t have to mold yourself. I feel like you guys should do some inner self-reflection and talk with yourself, journal, rage draw, whatever you need to do. Even crying, things are pretty intense. But I don’t want you guys to go around letting someone else try to influence you and tell you what to do, its reminding me of a Bret man rock video he was saying something along the line of “don’t tell me what to do BITCH!” lmao. But for real, don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do with your damn life. It’s like they want you confused about who you are as a person. People seriously need to contain this obsessive jealousy and just mind their damn business. I feel like you guys need to be more kinder to yourself and show more compassion towards you! You’re very abundant and have a lot headed your way, i just don’t wanna see you giving up, fuck what people say about you! What gives them the right to try and tell you about yourself, unless you really need the reality check but I don’t think so. I feel like people really want to try this group. Don’t let em, nuh uh uh uh. You’re self sufficient on your own nd you didn’t really need me to tell you that, but i see it. You can take care of your damn self. Fuck the projections and let yourself live. Even if shits not so great, LIVE! Try to put a smile on that face everyday, but also feel your emotions and acknowledge it. I feel like you guys may not feel the love but you are so so loved, pease remember that, and I’ll tell u, i love you! Mwah! ] ❞

Affirmations -

Embrace divinity → i am a loved child of divinity. Reality is a love story written for me. I sit silently and experience the loving embrace from my eternal mother. I store up the words of affirmation of my ageless father. The tender words that spoke my consciousness into existence to become me.

Observatory of the mind → i have a happy heart. Today will be full of joyful moments waiting for me to discover. My gratitude overflows from my inner self to those around me.

Empowering friendships → i select my relationships carefully and invest in them fully. I am the average of the people i spend my time with.

hiiii, hope everyone’s doing well, i know i know, im back lmao, and i didn’t forget about the other PAC, i just wanted to do this first. hope this helps w anything you’ve been going back and forth w, or any kooky energy that you’ve been wondering about, stay safe and don’t let anyone walk all over you! <333

[devoutekuna]

Saying their first words

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

He's got little interest in his child's milestones, always keeping his stoic face unless it involves something big. So when his daughter was crying in her cot, he was dreading the moment he'd have to get up and sort her out, knowing that you deserved the rest as he thought about why he had such a whiny child. Standing next to her crib, sticking his finger out for her to grab, directly bringing it towards her mouth as she tried to suck on it, he hates the feeling of her mouth on him, always biting him that's why he didn't really like her much. "Pa-" the small characters being recorded in her mind as she tried to remember what to say. "Papa" a gummy grin appearing onto her face, still messing around with his finger as she lifted her legs around, trying to get on her stomach or get atleast a reaction out of him. A small smile appearing on his face, he wasn't big on affection, especially when it came to kids, glancing back at your body, checking if you heard that, to only to be met with you sleeping.

Nanami-

You were busy shopping so he was left in charge of his daughter, putting her crib in his office as he worked, typing away at the computer as his daughter giggled behind him, messing around with the new fact that she had just discovered her feet, trying to stick them in her mouth, grabbing her leg and adjusting it so it wasn't so close to her head. Her blond hair swayed into her face, falling out of line from the ones behind the headband. "Dada!" Reaching her hand out to touch his, seeing his tired expression only made him want to reach out more, as if she could understand emotions like that. Seeing a smile appear onto his exhausted face, only making her want to say it more. "Da!" Only half the word getting out but it was still something. Leaning down to give her head a small peck before picking her up onto his lap.

Gojo-

"Say mama" rubbing her back as she stared up at you, her big blue eyes which she clearly inherited from her father, piercing your soul. Glancing back as she gripped the collar of your bra. Her father sat opposite you two, ushering for her to come over so that he could persuade her. "Say papa" patting his knee for her to rush over, it was clear who she obeyed more as she crawled her way there. Resulting in a sigh from you as you felt her grasp leave your body. "Papa!" A toothless grin coming upon her face as she saw the excitement on her father's face, directing his eyesight towards you for a quick second before back to his daughter. "Ya' hear that Y/N?" Bragging in your face as he picked up his daughter and showed the resemblance of them too, white hair matching with bright blue eyes. "She said my name, not yours" a sly smirk appearing on his face.

Geto-

Laid out on the bed as he rested his head on the pillow, his daughter beside him as she messed with his hair, always ripping it away from her every few seconds since she was always putting it in her mouth. The 3rd time she did it, it started with tears, the water pooling into her eyes, seeing what he had done he tried to correct it, grabbing her small body and trying to tickle her or atleast help her find some comfort in his hands. "Papa" crying out for him as she fell backwards, not being used to holding up her body for a long time, crashing into the plush duvet. A smile appearing on his face. Sat up fully as he readjusted his position.

"What was that baby?" Tickling her stomach gently as she tried not to laugh, still pooling out tears for no reason, refusing to say it again as she tried to crawl away, flipping onto her stomach, edging closer to the ledge with each moment.

Toji-

"Hands out" throwing his son's hand out of his food as he ate with him on his lap, he was sick and tired of this kid reaching into his food, getting his grubby hands all over it, it was his second bowl since he had already spilled the first one. He understood why you hated having a baby sat on your lap as you ate. Looking up at his father, scowling passionately as he tried eating again. "Papa" trying to baby his way into this by acting all cute, reaching up to touch his chin as he saw Toji almost choked on his food, swallowing it successfully as he looked down to him.

"What was that!?" The excitement being imminent in your tone of voice. "Ya want him?" Motioning for the baby to move onto your lap, he was holding back a smirk, wanting to give his child a good hair ruffle if he had some, knowing it would result in tears since he was pretty heavy handed.

[traumatrios]

southern manners, DODGE MASON

warnings… SMUT, dacryphilia, car sex, oral (fem!recieving), mean!dodge

josie’s notes! knee deep in the passenger seat? yeah. um whipped this up after reading @sunsburns new fic 😞 dodge agenda in action!!

“Dodge.”

It brings him out of his haze between your thighs, and though it was meant to grab his attention, you loathed the sudden absence of his tongue prodding at your entrance.

“What?” It sort of comes out in a spat, and you swear you could feel a couple prickles against your stomach from the moisture sprung from his mouth. You couldn’t tell if it was the wetness between your legs or his saliva, though.

You swallow before continuing. “Won’t someone see? Cars are made of windows, you know.”

He rolls his eyes at your protest, but then a smirk plays against his lips and assures you he isn’t really annoyed.

“Yeah, I know that. This is my car. Nobody will see you, sweetheart, jus’ trust me, okay?”

When he asks like that, how could you say no?

A couple more minutes go by with his fingers pumping in and out of your sopping cunt with the company of his tongue pressing against your clit, and you just lay there in the reclined passenger seat with your nails searching for anything to dig into. They eventually find the tufts of brunette hair that adorn Dodge’s skull.

His jeans stretch against his thighs and cause the boner tented at the apex of his thighs to strain against the denim more than usual due to the position he was in. Dodge held one knee on the floor of your side of his car with the other lunging on top of the passenger seat.

The knee laid in the middle of your thighs, building a barrier to restrict your squirming legs from pressing together. Instead, he felt the gummy walls of your pussy squeezing around his digits as they familiarized themselves with the ridges inside of you.

Your eyelids fought against the urge to squeeze shut from the pleasure he struck upon your quivering body, but the image of his shoulder blades sticking through the thin material of his t-shirt in his hunched state was too sweet to miss. They seemed to move with every nod and shake of his head against your cunt.

Soon, you felt tears begin to spring from your eyes, and the heaving of your chest was beginning to grow from the influx of emotion.

“Dodge… god— please,” you’d beg through growing sobs and it seemed to spur Dodge on even more. You assumed that from the harsh way his lips began to suck on your clit, but he was soon shooting up from your hips and looking at you.

You felt like you had shrunken under his glare. Dodge’s fingers, the same that had just been poking through your belly, gripped the sides of your chin in a piercing hold.

“Let me ask you one question,” he wet his lips before continuing, “do you want this?”

You nod, though the slick spreading against the flush of your cheeks was quite distracting.

“Then why the fuck are you crying? You that pathetic? Can’t even take my fingers without crying like a baby?”

You bite your lips, the salty tears collecting in the dip of your cupids box spreading across your tongue. You swallow again at the slight cock of his head. He wanted you to answer.

“No sir,” you blurt. Dodge knew how your manners caught up to you after all these years growing up in Texas, and god how he loved it.

But with the way red rimmed your eyes and streaks of tears were shining underneath the fluorescent lights of his car wasn’t helping with your case.

“Now you’re lying to me. Why would you lie to me, baby? Are you trying to hurt me?”

The questions were too much for your fucked-out mind, so all you could do was shake your head.

“‘S what I thought.”

Dodge wouldn’t admit it to you, or anyone, but he liked seeing you cry under his hand. The glistening tears that fell from your eyes felt like they coursed through his veins when they reached the tips of his fingers digging into your jaw. He couldn’t begin to imagine how you’d react to his dick inside of you.

Dodge just looked at you for what felt like forever, especially when your cunt was pleaing to be stuffed again. Dodge filled it with his dick, this time.

traumatrios, 2024